#no matter which path they take. no matter if he's ascended no matter if he's not no matter if dark urge is chosen or free of bhaal

[eldrichthingy]

How do people even get rejected by Astarion because I have no idea- in each playthrough I have now he's the first to ask my Dark Urge out 😭😭 even on good alignment and even having him constantly disapprove (still having good - very good - perfect relationship though depending on save)...

[missadangel]

The Heart of Rome (Marcus Acacius x OC)

All Chapters List

XI. The Accusation (+18, Mature)

gif --- ayo-edebiri

“Ad astra per aspera”

To the stars though difficulties…

Villa…

"I need you to help me to kill Caracalla.”

You stared at Julia's face in astonishment, trying to make sense of what you just heard. Her dark brown eyes were serious, but you noticed something in her expression that you couldn't identify – it was somewhere between fear and unease.

"You came to my house to ask me to help you kill your son? Is that correct?”

“He is no longer my son. Macrinus has made him a mere plaything. He pretty much does whatever he wants. He had his relatives killed, without any hesitation. I can't let him kill Geta too. It's only a matter of time. I can't lose Geta.” She sounded upset when she mentioned him. "I lost everything to Macrinus. First he took my son, then my reputation. My own son won't listen to me, he sent me into exile, which is unacceptable." Her tearful voice suddenly turned serious. "I have no one left to go to but you which Acacius had a hand in this, of course.”

‘What are you sa-?’

"He wiped out my men in Legates. They were my last remaining stronghold. I did everything I could to keep them on my side for all those years. Did he tell you how he killed them? I'm sure he didn't, so as not to startle you."

You took a deep breath and tried to remain calm. "My husband doesn't hide anything from me. But even if he did, I'm sure he has his own reasons." You said confidently.

"Sure he has!" she said sarcastically.

She was testing the limits of your patience. "Cease talking nonsense about my husband!" You barked. "Simply say whatever you came to say then take your leave.”

"Fair enough.” She crossed her legs. “Caracalla must die before Macrinus returns to Rome. Before he appoint him as Praetorian prefect (commander of the Imperial Guard)." She took a deep breath. "I'm sure of that he will take action against my sons once he assumes command of the guards. This could potentially lead to him ascending the throne. However, if Caracalla dies, it might weaken Macrinus' position. It would be more feasible to defeat him when Geta is emperor.”

"And you needn't worry about being hidden away in the shadows, as it seems unlikely that Geta will exile you like his brother did? It sounds like you're saving yourself.” She averted her eyes which meant you were right. "But why do you need my help exactly?"

"I believe you care about Geta, don't you? He also cares for you in some way. Perhaps more than you realise.”

“There’s nothing—“

You were about to protest, but she silenced you by raising her hand. “I am his mother, so I know him well and I know you don't wish him dead too. Besides, it would be better for everyone if he rules Rome alone. So Caracalla must die as soon as possible before harms him. You're a medicus, aren't you? You could make a concoction of herbs that will kill him painlessly.”

Her words were sharp, but her gaze was unwavering, declaring that this was the path she had to take. But it was still strange that she said it so easily. It felt wrong.

"I wouldn't have come to you if I didn't have to. It's only a matter of time before he finds out, accuse me of betrayal, and send me back. This is our sole opportunity before Macrinus's return."

‘Our? There is no ‘our’, there is no we. Furthermore, it is not a decision that can be made alone. You present this as an easy solution, but I am a married woman and my husband is a Roman general. What will happen to my husband if your plan fails? Have you ever considered this?”

She rolled her eyes. “Isn't that why you should help me? Once he's dealt with my sons, Macrinus' next target is General Acacius. To get you.” You knew exactly what she meant and she realized that. "I imagine your husband feels very regretful about not taking Macrinus out that night. Because I know he won't let him get away with it.”

You swallowed hard, hating to admit that she was right. Julia smiled, seeming amused by your expression. "Oh, poor Aurelia. It must be tough to be caught between three men. Yet you are fortunate. Even if you were to become a widow one day, there'd be another man waiting for you. Since you're a Roman princess, you're worth a great deal.”

That was the last straw. You felt a rush of anger and stood up abruptly. “Get out of my house now! Leave!” You barked, pointing your finger at the courtyard door. Julia stood up, looking insolent.

“If you truly care about Geta, think about what I said.”

“I said leave!” You shouted, then pointing your finger at her. “I'm warning you, don't you ever speak ill of my husband and don't come to my house again!”

Some of the slaves rushed towards you.

“Domina!”

“Escort Lady Domna outside.” You said sharply.

Julia gave you a stern look and turned away. She raised her hand to stop the slave who was approaching her. Then she left the courtyard. You were still pretty angry and tired, which made your head spin even more. Decima put her arm around you and made you sit on the lectus (couch). She grabbed your feet and gently lifted them, helping you lie down. Norell and Tullia were keeping an eye on you from a distance, looking a bit worried. You looked them with a half smile and told them to get on with their work. You leaned your head back and closed your eyes. Decima took your hand.

"Would you like me to make you some dittany tea (cretan thyme)?" It was an herb that was usually used for relaxation. Decima was from Egypt, so she was familiar with herbal teas. Well, not as familiar as you are, of course.

You looked at her. "Not that, not if I'm..." you said quietly.

"Oh, you're right. Chamomile then?”

"Yes, that's better. Thank you my dear.”

After drinking your chamomile tea, you fell asleep in the courtyard. The slaves were mindful of your need for rest and made every effort to avoid disturbing you. Those who walked towards the courtyard did so as quietly as they could. Then Mau appeared and jumped next to you. However, you were so deeply asleep that you were unaware that she had fallen asleep on your lap. You were suddenly awakened by the sound of a sword being unsheathed and a man shouting. Mau meowed loudly, jumped out of your lap in fright and sought refuge elsewhere.

Seeing Octavius holding his sword to a man's throat who you had never seen before. Opened your eyes in surprise.

“Sir! Have mercy please!” He begged. You noticed some parchment papers and a reed pen in his hand.

You sat up on the couch. “Octavius, what is happening here?”

"My lady, this rat was attempting to draw your likeness without your permission."

You were taken aback. "Can you clarify what you mean by that?”

Decima turned to you. "This man came for the General, but we informed him that he was not present. I then assumed that he had departed. Forgive me, my lady.”

Your eyesbrows rose. “You came to draw my husband?”

The man swallowed. Octavius shook him. “Lady Aurelia asked you a question. Speak, thief!”

You warned him, “Octavius, please put that sword away and allow the man to speak.”

He obeyed. The man stood up ad bowed. “Yes, my lady. Aventine cloth dyers association are paying me to do a mural of General Acacius and the tiger he fought in the arena, my lady.”

“Explain yourself. Why would they do that?” Octavius barked.

“He’s famous, sir, the city, all the Roman citizens likes him. He’s a hero.”

You smiled, and he was indeed a hero to you. You picked up the fallen scrolls and took a moment to examine them. He had painted you so well, even the mau in your lap, which you found quite remarkable.

"But you drew me, his wife," you murmured.

"My lady, allow me to beat this insolent rat to death," Octavius hissed. The man shuddered with fear.

"Please, sir. Leave him alone," you said, a little harshly.

"My lady, forgive me. You were so beautiful when you slept that I was overcome with admiration and wanted to draw your likeness.”

You felt your cheeks flush involuntarily.

“How dare you!” Octavius roared.

“Calm yourself, sir.” You gave Octavius a warning look. You stood up and approached the man. “Please rise.”

The man stood up looking a little ashamed.

“I'll tell my husband you came by. You are well talented, I liked your drawing,” you said, showing him the parchment. “May I keep this?”

He looked at you and gave you a big, warm smile. "It's already yours, my lady. I'm really pleased you think so.

You glanced at Octavius, who seemed to be losing patience. Then you looked at the man. “You may yet leave now.”

The man bowed his head and gave you a shy look, then turned and walked out of the courtyard. Octavius accompanied him outside. You and Decima studied the painting the artist had created. She then enquired as to whether she might bring you something to eat, and with your approval, she departed. It would seem that Mau was hungry when she returned to you, as she rubbed her tail against your leg. She meowed loudly when she saw Norell approaching you a moment later with a tray in her hands.

"Where's Decima? I thought she was supposed to bring the food.

You noticed that Norell's cheeks flushed. "Well, my lady, she had some more work to do in the kitchen."

"Is she all right?"

She nodded, but her freckled cheeks were still red. You grabbed her wrist as her furtive look and tone of voice made you wonder what she was hiding. "Tell me, what's going on?"

"Um, Decima. She took food to Sir Octavius." She averted her eyes from you and smiled in a way that seemed a little evasive. You blinked in surprise and then laughed.

“Oh, well, well,” you said, amused. “When these two have become so close?"

Norell chuckled. "It has been a while now. She often speaks of him."

You giggled. "Where might they be now?"

She turned her head towards the courtyard. “Over there.”

"Perhaps we could go and take a quick look at them," you suggested, with a hint of mischief in your voice.

Norell let out a soft laugh and followed you behind. The slave at the door was about to speak to you but you silenced him by putting your index finger to your lips.

You and Norell peered out of the door, observed Octavius and Decima by the stables, talking, smiling at each other. The slave at the door looked at them from behind you and grinned too.

As you watched them from a distance you recognized a familiar feeling in the way they looked at each other, love.

"My dear Decima," you murmured, sharing her happiness.

Norell sighed deeply. "I hope that one day I will be in love too.”

You heard the other slave sigh and you both looked at him with surprise. He bowed his head shyly.

“Domina? My lady?”

All three of you were startled by Tullia's loud voice. Decima had heard it too, and when she turned her head towards you three. You blushed and hurried inside.

“Tullia! Why are you shouting?” you snapped.

“Oh, forgive me. I thought…”

You and Norell had laughed loudly running towards the other courtyard. Tullia was looking at you, a bit confused. Decima came into the courtyard and made her way towards your voices.

“My lady?” She then looked at Norell in a rather angry way.

“I didn't say anything,” she said, holding up her hands.

"Come now, why are you keeping this from me?" you smiled at her.

Decima blushed.

“You're already sooo obvious.” Norell said smugly.

“What did you say?” Decima frowned and approached her and Norell turned around to run away. They ran into the courtyard and you followed. Decima cupped water from the fountain and threw it at her. Norell also did the same. They began to soak each other, laughing together. Norell ran towards you, intending to hide, but as Decima attempted to throw water at her again, the water hit you in the face, and you flinched when you felt the cold water on your skin.

“Gods!” Tulla cried out. She ran towards you. “My lady, are you alright? Look what you've done! Cease this nonsense now!” She yelled at them.

Mau had also got her share of a soaking, licking herself like mad to dry.  Decima and Norell were looking at you with guilty looks on their faces. But you, far from being angry, approached them with a serious expression and cupped the water from the fountain and threw in their faces. And a fun game began between the three of you. Tullia's grunts mixed with your laughter and echoed throughout the courtyard.

By the time the general arrived, you were still engaged in your game. Octavius was observing you at the door, perhaps not fully aware of his surroundings.  Marcus heard the loud, cheerful laughter and dismounted, heading for the courtyard with curiosity. He looked where Octavius was looking and was struck by the difference between this view and the one he saw every time he returned home. It was unlike anything he had ever seen before. He was at a loss as to how to react. He smiled as he recognized your cheerful laughter. Then he looked at Octavius, who looked like he was stunned.

“What are you looking at?” he yelled.

Octavius startled with his loud voice. “Sir!”

“You may leave Octavius,” he grumbled. How dare he watch my wife? he thought. Well actually he was watching someone else but still.

You all froze when you noticed him. Decima and Norell bowed to him and made their way away from the situation as quickly as they could.

“I'll get you some dry clothes, my lady,” Tullia said and ran out of the courtyard.

How great. They all left you alone with Marcus. He regarded you with interest as he approached. The stone floor was quite wet, as were your dress. You bit your lip, uncertain of his reaction. Fortunately, a smile soon appeared on his face, and you breathed a sigh of relief.

"I must apologise for not realising your arrival."

"No need to apologise, my love. There is nothing quite like coming home and hearing your cheerful laugh, which is music to my ears."

You had a sudden sneeze. It wasn't the most romantic answer. Marcus chuckled. “My Lady. You’re all soaked."

Before long, Tullia appeared with a clean dress and the cotton cloth to drying yourself. "If I may, my lady-“

“Give that to me.” Marcus kindly took the cloth from her hand and wrapped it around you. Upon seeing your feet, you instinctively drew them back, as if to hide them. You hadn't realised how wet they were. He smiled and gently took you in his arms, which made your cheeks flush. After all, Tullia was following you behind, carrying your dry clothes in her hands.

Your hand was touching the golden-edged leather strips on his shoulder. Playing with them by running your fingers between each strip. He smiled in response. Once you had entered the room, Marcus set you down. Tullia then placed the dry clothes she had brought for you on the bed, leaving the two of you alone in the room.

"Allow me," you said as you reached for Marcus' armour, but he gently pushed your hands back.

"You first. I do love seeing you like this, but I'm afraid you might catch a chill." His eyes were roaming over your body.

You held his hands and placed them around your waist. “Maybe you could warm me up then?” You smiled naughtily.

He smirked and his hands were already undressing you with haste. Once he had removed your belt and your damp stola, his eyes lingered on the tunic that clung to your body. You were now very aware of the reason for the sudden change in his eyes. That his gentle hands would soon become more impetuous. Even before you reached for the holster on his waist, his lips found yours. His hands were trying to remove your long tunic and you were trying to remove his armour, but it was difficult. When your wet tunic fell to the floor and gathered around your feet, Marcus pushed it aside with his foot, never breaking the kiss. You couldn't tell him to take off his armour because your lips were completely captivated by his. Grabbing you by the hips, he picked you up and put you on the edge of bed. You pulled yourself back with all your might, kneeling on the bed. His armour touching your wet and naked body was a little strange, although seductive. Marcus thought you were playing a game, so he tightened his grip on your lips, not allowing you to break the kiss. But as he tried to come towards you, putting his knee on the bed, the sword at his holster hit the edge. He looked down at himself in surprise and laughed.

“I tried to tell you,” you laughed and helped him out of his armour.

“I must have been under your spell, princess.” He grinned.

Once he'd taken off his armour, Marcus grabbed you around the waist and laid you back on the bed. You couldn't believe how excited you became each time, as if it was the first time he'd ever laid you down and positioned himself on top of you. Moreover, how could it be that each touch of his lips to yours felt so different from the other? It really amazed you that such a simple touch could evoke such strong feelings. Perhaps it was the endless blending of pleasures that this strong bond between you bestowed upon you. What a treat, what a magnificent and wonderful feeling. His lips and tongue were exploring every inch of your body as your bodies fit together perfectly, and you enjoyed one pleasure after another. It felt like there was no end to the adventure of exploring each other's bodies and their needs. Every time you encountered a new sensation and a lot of pleasure. Even Marcus, who was an expert lover, found this to be true. Despite his extensive experience, he had never made love to anyone before you, not even once. It was more than a sexual fulfilment. It satisfies his soul too, as he inhales your scent, touches you, tastes you, he feels complete, he feels alive. To him, you were made for him. The moment you got into his heart, everything lost its meaning; you and all the other insignificant things. You were born into his life like the sun into a dark, war-torn, blood-stained, boring, lonely world. You brought him light and purpose. From now on, he would live to serve you, to make you happy, to protect you from all evil. With you by his side, he was more likely to put his duties for Rome second.

“Marcus,” you moaned. He bent his head and kissed your lips, where you said his name. He didn't want to hear his name from anyone else's lips; only you had to say it, the others not allowed. They couldn't say it like you anyway. It wasn't even a possibility.

“What do you wish me to do, my love?” He whispered in your ear. His lips were caressing your earlobe.

You kissed his cheek and pulled his head towards you with your hands in his hair, it was your turn to whisper in his ear. “You know already.”

He grinned, of course he knew. His big hands gripped your hips tightly, deepening his thrusts and quickening his pace. As you moaned in response, he kissed you. Not to silence you, but to feel your beautiful voice within his very own mouth. Soon together you reached the overwhelming end of your pleasure, moaning into his mouth for the one last time. You remained in that intimate position for a while, breathing heavily. Feeling each other's hearts beating against your chests under your palms. Savoring this glorious moment.

The bright sunshine streamed through the window, illuminating the room with a warm glow. The soft breeze from the balcony caressed your still damp hair, causing you to shiver slightly and pull the sheet over your shoulders. When you heard the swallows chirping, you decided to open your eyes. Marcus wasn't with you in the bed. You frowned and sat up.

“Morning my beautiful wife.”

You turned your head towards his voice. Marcus was at his desk, looking pretty busy with a quill pen and some papers.

“Morning.” You gave him a smile. “Did I sleep for too long again?”

“Just a little,” he replied turning his head back down to continue writing something on the paper. You got up and put on your tunic. However, you then felt nauseous again.

“Excuse me,” you said covering your mouth with hand. Hurried out of the room. Marcus put his quill pen down on the table and stood up. He walked out of the room and followed you into the latrina, waiting outside the door.

"Aurelia, my love. I'm rather concerned."

As you stepped out of the latrina, he put his arms around you.

“Maybe I should call for another medicus?’

"I don't think that is necessary," you said as you walked back to the room together.Marcus helped you to sit on the edge of the bed. He crouched down in front of you, his hands gently smoothing your dishevelled hair.

"You said that you might get better if you rested. However, I can see you're still not feeling well." His face showed concern.

"I'm actually feeling better today." You mumbled. It wasn't a complete lie. The nausea wasn't as bad as it had been the day before. You felt you had no complaints, knowing what was causing this feeling. Marcus lifted your chin up with his hand. You didn't want to tell him before you were certain, but he was so concerned. He needed to know.

"I sense you're hiding something from me.”

You looked at him, blinking your eyes and inhaling a deep breath. "Marcus, I, um. I wasn't sure if I should tell you until I was certain..."

He looked at you from under his eyebrows. "Continue."

You took his hands in yours and looked into his eyes. "I believe I'm with child.”

Marcus froze. His eyes widened in surprise, his pupils dilated. Then the most marvellous smile appeared on his face. He kissed your lips, and his heart overflowed with bliss. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling towards him. He buried his face between your breasts, then slid it to your belly, planting kisses along the way. You felt his lips on your belly.

"What have I done to deserve you?"

“It might be too early to say for sure. Perhaps we should wait a little longer-“

His lips found yours suddenly. He put his knee on the edge of the bed next to yours and laid you back down. You wrapped your arms around his neck. Without breaking the kiss, he settled right next to you on the bed. He put one hand on your belly.

“My beautiful Aurelia,” he purred. “I love you, with all my heart and all my soul.” His warm breath caressed your face, your heart blossomed.

“I love you, Marcus. I love you much more than words can ever say.” You touched his cheek with your fingers. “I hope that I am carrying your child.”

“Our child.” he corrected you.

You smiled. “Our child,” you repeated.

He kissed you again, your heart beat with bliss, which soon turns into desire. “I shall spend all my days with you." He said huskily as his hands lifted up the hem of your tunic. “I shall spend all my time making love to you, over and over until our bodies become one.” His lips found yours again and soon turned into a hungry, lustful kiss. As he slid into your shaking body, and you moaned with exultation. This was love. This was blessing. Elysium on Earth.

Over the next few days, you tried a series of tests to find out whether you were carrying a child or not.One of the tests was a common one in Rome and Egypt. All you had to do was urinate in two different bags; one filled with barley and the other with wheat. If the grain in either bag sprouted after being peed on, it meant the woman was definitely with child.As it turned out, they were right. You saw the barley sprouting within a few days, and the wheat took a little longer. Decima said that meant you were carrying a boy. That's how you felt, they said it was a maternal instinct. You never thought of yourself as a mother, at least not this early. But it was indescribable happiness. Marcus was treating you with more tenderness than ever. You were delighted to be the cause of this amazing man having such wonderful feelings. It was a pleasure to see him so cheerful, and the others in the villa were equally pleased to share in his joy.

During this time, Marcus had been closely involved in the training of the soldiers at the Campus Martius (Fields of Mars) just outside the city. Macrinus had been absent for over a week and it was to be expected that he would soon reach Libya. As the general of the army, it was his duty to be prepared for any eventuality and to train his troops accordingly. No matter how busy he was, no matter how late he came home at night, at the end of the day, you found him in bed snuggled between your breasts and legs. You never complained as you wanted him so much as ever thanks to changes of your body that had led to heightened sexual desire.

That morning, when you were helping Marcus put on his armour, you mentioned Julia. It seems she was pretty desperate, even talking to him about Caracalla too.

"Geta is keeping her hidden," Marcus said as he checked the strings on his armbands, "It's likely that Caracalla will eventually find her. She may have a point about Caracalla being prepared to assign Macrinus as Praetorian prefect. However, he will need to return to accept it. I must finish him before he arrives in Rome." He said with determination.

"I suppose he will return soon, then?”

"He must be. I'm waiting for the messenger pigeon to come back. If the legion commander in Libya confirms he's arrived, I'll make the necessary preparations."

You swallowed, feeling concerned by the fact that he was about to fight Macrinus again. Marcus took your face in his hands.

"Please, do not be concerned, my lady. I gave you my word that you won't lose me."

You nodded. "You do what you need to do, my love."

"I will. For you." He put his hand on your belly. "For our child. I will do whatever it takes to make sure he grows up in a safe Rome, and with other Roman children.”

“I am certain you will.” You embraced him and rested your head on his chest, running your fingers through the contours of the medusa.

“Speaking of children,” Marcus said. You lifted your head to look at him.

“Hmm?”

“All the kids at the Poorhouse and the people there.” He murmured.

“I haven't been to visit them in ages. What about them?”

"You don't have to go. Please don't tire yourself out. I want you to stay here and get some rest. Besides, It seems that Geta is already looking after them in your absence."

You raised your eyebrows in surprise. “Really?”

"Yes, that does astonish me too. I find it unusual that he would spend his coins on something like that."

"He said he would, but I must admit I didn't expect him to keep his promise."

"You might be right about him. Maybe he could be a better emperor.’ You sensed the sincerity of his tone. "However, I tend to agree with Julia about Caracalla." He said, his face suddenly serious. "Every moment he breathes is detrimental to Rome.”

"Julia almost begged me to poison him."

He was checking his sword carefully. "No, that's treacherous. Even for him. He is an emperor, after all. It must be done honorably."

You felt tense. Or was he planning to act soon? He never mentioned it though.

He put his sword in its holster. "Enough politics, I think." He smiled. "I must take my leave now, my lady.”

For some reason, you felt a sudden sense of unease. "Will you be on duty at the Field of Mars today too?"

"That's correct," he replied after adjusting his armour for the last time. "Please don't engage in any risky things during my absence." He said in a commanding tone.

“I'll be making herbal tea, too dangerous,” you said mockingly.

He gave a little laugh and kissed your temple before leaving the room. As you followed him outside, you realised that the uneasy feeling inside you was getting worse. Maybe it was an unnecessary consequence of your new situation: worrying too much about everything. Marcus looked back at you one last time before heading out. You gave him a smile and then he left.

You made your way downstairs to the girls. You had little chat while they were engaged in weaving the carpet. There wasn't much else to do for the rest of the day, except lie down and rest. You visited Unio to feed her and brush her pearly-white mane with your fingers. Marcus had forbidden you to ride, not until the birth. He'd also told you not to go to the poorhouse, and you'd had to obey him on that one too. In the last few days you had become a little better with your knife and Marcus had admired you for it for the first time. But your overly anxious husband didn't want you to pick it up for a while either. Why did carrying a child have to be so boring?

In the evening, you were feeding Mau. Then you heard footsteps approaching from the courtyard.

"Domina!" The slave boy came running to you. He had that look on his face again, hesitation.

"What is it now?"

"The Emperor." He mumbled.

"Sister!"

You were quite taken aback to see Geta appear out of nowhere. He approached you and embraced you while you stared at him with your mouth hanging open.

“What are you doing here?”

Geta made a face. "Is this the manner in which you choose to greet me?"

"Well, apologies. I am simply astonished."

Geta looked around. "So this is your little house.”

You walked towards courtyard together. "Please have a seat, your majesty," you said, gesturing to him.

All eyes in the villa were on your emperor half-brother, who was seated comfortably on the armchair wearing a crown on his head and an overly flamboyant toga. You requested that the slaves bring you wine and fruit. Geta examined the wine glass and took a sip. As you observed him sitting where his mother had sat days ago, you came to recognise the differences between him and her. They were nothing alike. You were surprised that you had never realised this until now.

"It's been almost weeks, I've missed you a lot." He said suddenly. "How are you feeling now?" He looked you up and down.

"I feel better now, thank you." Your hands involuntarily went to your belly. You were unsure whether you should tell him or not. He was so unpredictable that it was difficult to guess the outcome of saying something like this to him. Perhaps it would be best to wait until your belly gets bigger before sharing.

"My mother," he suddenly said in a serious tone. You looked at him. "She's been here. I know what she told you.”

“You do?”

"As she gets older, her behaviour is getting worse. Don't take her seriously."

"Do you think so? What she said to me is something that should be taken seriously."

"You're right, it's horrible. Caracalla really has gone mad, but her intention of killing him... It's simply not right.”

"Is there something new about his madness?"

"Apart from the fact that became Macrinus' plaything? Well, he won't take me to any meetings anymore. He's got a new toy.”

“How you mean?”

"Macrinus' new right-hand man. He's like his shadow, taking care of things while he's away. I've never met him before, but my brother has already assigned him to the important tasks. I hadn't even been informed about it. Can you believe it?"

You thought about what Marcus said to you about Macrinus' spy. "Could he perhaps be one of the legates?"

"No, he's just come from the north. I don't think anyone knows him, not even the general, your husband."

"If Macrinus hid him like Gaius, I don't think he meant well."

"That's what I thought. You're clever, sister. I've missed talking to you. But not politically, of course." He grinned.

You smiled back. "You're helping your mother to hide from Caracalla, aren't you?"

"Yes, I am." He snapped, playing with his glass.

"What if he finds out?"

He shrugged. "That prick sent her without asking me, anyway." Suddenly Geta put his glass on the table and leaned towards you. "Aurelia, he's really out of control. I know Caracalla, always was, but this time it's different. He's hallucinating, dreaming, and that worries me. I know he'll hurt someone else, if not himself. Last time he nearly got me killed, all because of a stupid dream he had."

"Did you say hallucinations?”

He nodded. "I'm certain it's her. Mother. She did this to him. I gave her a clear warning, but she refused to listen. I'm asking you because you're the expert. Is it possible for a herb to have such an effect?"

“Many kinds of plants can do that. But how could Lady Domna possibly poison him?"

"Not directly of course. My slave caught her talking to another slave in the street. She is not aware, but I know everything.” He exhaled deeply. “She should never have come back, she'll get herself killed."

It was something that would endanger not only herself, but everyone including his own son Geta. How could she be so irresponsible? She must be mad for sure just like her son.

"If its on his drink or food, if I can examine it maybe I can help.”

Geta smiled smugly. “That's why I came here.”

He gestured to one of his slaves who was holding a small wooden box. Geta reached the box, opened and took out a vial filled with red liquid and handed it to you.

"Here. This is a sample of the wine he drank yesterday. Will that be enough?"

You took it, uncorked it and sniffed. As you were already highly sensitive to smells, this one smelled completely wrong.

"Yes, I think this would be enough. Let me observe this first.”

"You do that. I must return now. I don't want him to realize I left the palace and came here. He's rather mad and unpredictable more than ever." He stood up and put his hands on your shoulders. "If you happen to find out what it is, send me word. I'll send one of the slaves here. It seems that I can no longer trust my own guards. He is about to place them all under the control of Macrinus' rat."

You nodded. "I will see what I can do, brother."

Suddenly he leaned in, wrapping his arms around you. You tried to pull back, but it was futile.

“Geta,” you hissed. “You should not touch me like this. Please-“

“What's wrong with embracing my sister?” he said arrogantly.

You couldn't help but feel that he was right, but it still felt a little awkward. He laughed at the look on your face and leaned his head down to kiss your cheek. "Take care of yourself, sister. Hope I'll see you soon," he said, with a wink, and left the courtyard with his slaves following him behind.

Campus Martius. (Field of Mars).

General Acacius arrived there after completing his other duties at the barracks. The layout of this place is reminiscent of an army camp, with a number of small buildings.

“Attention! The general is here!” Octavius barked at the soldiers. They immediately stood at attention.

Acacius' eyes were fixed on the recruits. Some of them were pretty clumsy. He jumped down from his horse, squinting at them.

"Chin up! Chest out! Shoulders back! Suck your stomach in!” Octavius commanded, touching their shoulders to ensure they were doing it right. Then he ran to Acacius' side as he approached them. "Sir!" he nodded to him.

"Sir Octavius, these soldiers are struggling to get in line properly! This is how you train them?” he yelled at him.

That's what being a Roman General entailed, after all. Keeping an eye on the rookies and their commanders, supervising his second-in-command, training all the soldiers to keep the army ready for anything, constantly meeting with the Legates to assess the situation. Keeping track of the legions abroad was undoubtedly the hardest task. The army pigeon was the most efficient way to communicate. A trained pigeon could deliver a message in two or three days, whereas a soldier would take months to do the same.

He looked the soldiers in the face as he passed, tapping some on the shoulder to make sure they were properly in line. The soldiers saluted him by putting their hands on their chests. Some of them looked nervous.

“At ease!” Marcus shouted and the soldiers got into a relaxed position to continue their training.

Octavius walked with him towards the building where the Genaral's room was located. Cato was there, waiting for him outside his room. He saluted him.

“Cato, why you are not with the recruits?’’

"Sir, I wanted to let you know that the pigeon has arrived. I have placed it in its cage and I am waiting here to ensure its safety." He said it in a very serious manner.

Octavius chuckled. Marcus grinned.

“Are you thinking what I'm thinking?” Marcus asked him. They were both looking at Cato.

“I believe this prick using the bird as an excuse to avoid training.”

Cato opened his eyes wide. “Never, sir!”

"Who gave you permisson to talk back?" Marcus shouted at him. "Now get out of my sight before I train you myself!"

“Yes, sir!”

Marcus and Octavius laughed after he hurriedly picked up his sword and rushed out. "This boy is really...” He murmured.

"He's been working really hard lately," Octavius said, opened the door and waited for Marcus to enter.

“Do you believe so?” He entered the room and sitting down in his chair and putting his sword on the desk.

"I think he's ready for the platoon training. If you agree.”

Marcus opened the lid of the cage and took the small sealed paper tied to the pigeon's foot. "I still don't think he's ready. He must to learn to overcome his hesitation first." The seal belonged to the Eighth Legion. It was stationed in Leptis Magna, a likely place for Macrinus to visit. Marcus lifted the seal and opened the thin paper.

“My dear friend, the esteemed General Acacius. I Caius Drusus commander of eighth legion, salute you! I have dispatched my men to the harbour of Alexandria as you ordered, however both ships that came from Rome brought only armoury and provisions. Sir Macrinus or his men were not among those who disembarked. Also, we have received word of a few men gathering in the Syrian sector, which may be in line with your suspicions. We await your orders. Rome Victrix!”

Marcus crumpled the paper in his fist and squeezed it. Octavius figured it was bad news.

“Sir? What does it say?”

Marcus slammed his hand down hard on the desk, his whole body filled with anger. “Damn you Macrinus!”

Marcus found himself somewhat perplexed. He was certain that Macrinus was on his way to Ostia and that the ship was waiting for him there. But why hadn't he been seen in the harbour? Octavius picked up the paper he had crumpled up and read it with curiosity.

“How can this be?" He put his hands on the desk and looked at him. Or maybe he never actually left? Did he play a trick on us?"

Marcus was mulling it over. Why would he do that? What was he trying to act? He was such a clever enemy that he never gave away his trail. For Marcus, fighting was simple. It was easy to move your sword according to your enemies movement and cut him down. But playing mind games was tough. It was exhausting to think like your enemy, to anticipate his next move, to always try to be one step ahead of him. Especially when the enemy was someone who had the emperor in the palm of his hand. Could he be seeking retaliation? Or had he never left Rome? Marcus exhaled nervously.

“Octavius, I want you to place two men outside the villa.” He ordered, turning to him. “Is Felix still on Palatine Hill?”

"Yes, sir. He's positioned there as you ordered." He'll let me know if anything arises.

Marcus put his hand to his face, closed his eyes and sighed again. “We're missing something, Octavius.”

“What could it be, sir?”

“I'm not certain yet. But I'll find out. Make sure all the men are gathered in our usual place tomorrow night, in incognito. We shall talk over. Now leave me alone.”

“Yes sir,” he said and left the room.

Villa…

You had been studying the wine residue that Geta had brought you for most of the day, with the help of Decima and Norell. Despite making a few mistakes and experiencing a few setbacks, you eventually managed to identify the substance as the fruit of the Red Shanglu plant (Phytolacca acinosa). Given its red colour, it was a logical that it would blend well with wine.

“Why doesn't it kill him immediately?” Decima asked. She shook the vial in her hand.

"It's not a particularly poisonous plant. Or maybe the person who made it is inexperienced with it. However, even the smallest amount could cause brain damage. That's more dangerous than death,” you muttered.”

“What kind of fruit is this? Can we find it around here?” Norell asked.

“No, unfortunately not. It's probably a fruit from China or somewhere nearby.”

“Didn't the Empress come here from Syria?” Decima asked.

“Damascus is frequented by Chinese traders, couldn't she have brought it from there?”

“That is true.” When you were in Egypt,your uncle had purchased a number of plants from traders who came from Damascus to Alexandria. This was not an auspicious sign. It would be very difficult to create an antidote without the plant itself.

“So what are you going to do?” Norell asked.

“I need to to speak with Geta. I must inform him of this."

“But the soldiers outside, won't let you.” Decima murmured.

Right. Two of Marcus's men arrived at noon for some reason. You were certain that if you went with them to Geta, there would be tension between those two again. Moreover, it was already dark, and he must be on his way back.

You opened your small leather notebook to review the notes you had taken earlier and consulted the description of this plant. From what you can gather from your notes, it seems that reversing it is not an option. However, there was another fruit that could potentially help to mitigate and cure it. Acorus gramineus (commonly known as Japanese sweet flag). Of course. How you didn’t think of that? You recalled your Uncle Vicius with respect and found that his teachings had proved useful to you in your life. You promptly rose to your feet and took a moment to survey the shelves. This plant is a common genus used in Rome and other regions. You attempted to reach for the jar at the top of the shelves, but it was out of reach. You rose on tiptoe and reached as far as you could. Before Decima had a chance to get up and come over to help, another hand suddenly appeared and grasped the jar.

"I did warn you not to do anything dangerous, didn't I?” Suddenly Marcus appeared next to you.

You looked at him in surprise. When had he arrived? The girls greeted him and left the room. "Jars are now a source of danger to you, General?" You teased, took the jar from his hand and put it on the table.

Marcus smiled and approached you, wrapping his arms around you from behind. He planted a tender kiss on your hair and breathed you in, finding your ear. “I missed you.” Then he kissed your cheeks, your nose and your forehead, making you giggle. Then he turned you to him and kissed you on the lips before you could even open your mouth to answer.

“I missed you too, my handsome husband.”

He chuckled and looked at the vials, herbs on the table. "It looks like you had as busy a day as I did.”

You took a deep breath. “I guess I did."

He put a hand under your chin and turned your head towards him. His eyes were already filled with curiosity. "Something has happened. Tell me."

You put your hands on his shoulders. "Geta was here."

He raised his eyebrows. "Your Emperor half-brother Geta?”

“I know no other Geta,” you laughed. But he didn’t.

““What did he want? Why did he come?” He asked in a rather stern tone. Just hearing his name was enough to make him angry. You place your hands on either side of his face. It had an instant calming effect on him, his expression softened immediately.

“You've just arrived, my love, you must be tired. We can talk while we eat."

You picked up a jar of jasmine from one of the shelves.

"I'll put it in our room, it smells nice and has a calming effect."

Marcus put the jar back and grasped your wrist. "There's no need, my love. Your smell is much nicer, and it's the only thing that can calm me down." He led you out of the room.

Once you had entered the courtyard, you requested that Tullia bring the food and walked to your room. Before heading for the stairs, Marcus stopped when he noticed Octavius and Decima talking.

“Why is he still here?”

You chuckled. He looked at you with questioning eyes. You grabbed his muscular arm. It was your turn to tug. “Come now, leave them be.”

“I now understand why he has been distracted lately.” He grunted as he climbed the stairs with you.

“Please don't be angry with him."

“I'm not. But I need to talk to him later.” He said after entering the room.

Your food was brought into the room while you helped Marcus take off his armor. As usual, Marcus sat you on his lap while eating.

"You know, I'm not sure if I'll be able to fit on your lap when my belly gets so big," you said as he fed you a grape.

“Nonsense. There's plenty of room for both of you on my lap," he said, opening his arms. You tilted your head to the side and snuggled into his chest. "As a matter of fact, I can hold three, four, five, or even more," he added, eating his food. You lifted your head to look at his face. "What are you going to do with so many children, General?" you asked, opening your eyes wide.

“I'm going to raise my own army,” he said, laughing.

You laughed too. “Since you are so lascivious husband, it is quite possible.”

“Is it just me? You are too, my sweet wife.”

Your cheeks flushed. “You made me,” you touched his shoulder with yours.

He bent his head and kissed your shoulder. “Pleasure is all mine, my lady.”

“Well, I didn't say I was grateful.” You teased.

As soon as you said that, he looked at you differently. You locked eyes. The atmosphere in the room suddenly shifted. You were well aware of why his eyes had changed. "Then I'll take you in such a way that you'll be eternally grateful." He bent down and kissed you passionately on the lips. His kiss became more intense as you wrapped your arms around his neck. He put his hands in your hair and drank so deeply from your mouth that you almost forgot how to breathe. But you wanted so desperately that you never wanted him to stop. Even more so now, you wanted him more than you ever had, and he seemed to be quite pleased about it.  Marcus helped you lie back against his arm. He pulled the hem of your tunic up your legs and pulled you back onto his lap. As he slid the straps of the tunic down your shoulders, you could feel him getting impatient under your hips. When his lips slid to your neck, you threw your head back to gasp for air. But then you gasped again as he started to play with your already very sensitive breasts. Just the touch of his warm tongue made you feel like it was going to send you over the edge.

“Hmm your breasts are so responsive than ever my love."

You were sure your cheeks were redder than wine. “It's simply expecting for this phase,” you said breathlessly. Your impatient fingers ran through his hair. You were eager for him to take you now.

“It only adds to your beauty. You are so beautiful to be real,” he said huskily. You kissed his neck in response. He grabbed you by the hips, lifted you up and laid you on the bed. Soon he was on top of you. You wrapped your arms around his waist and pulled him to you. Or rather, you tried. He chuckled. “You are very impatient for someone who is not grateful, princess?”

You sighed. “I apologise, I shouldn't have said that. I'm so grateful, please, Marcus.” You squirmed desperately. It was one of your lustful husband's favorite moments. “Please what, my love?” He put his knee between your legs as slowly as he could.

"I want you," you purred.

His lips were on your earlobe, and the feel of his hot breath on your neck made you shudder.

"You want me where?" He teased. His fingers caressed your nipples, his glorious length brushing against your entrance which driving you mad.

"I want you inside me, please," you whimpered.

He smiled wide, like he won a victory. “I shall fulfill my princess’ desire.” And there he was, right where you wanted him most. You felt like you were going to explode with happiness and break into little pieces. You felt proud of yourself for making progress and getting to this point. Now you both knew each other's bodies and desires well. It was a progress you didn't expect from yourself, and it wasn't difficult at all. Everything was easier with him. Desiring him, kissing him, feeling his skin under your fingers – it was like a need for life. You needed him. You needed him inside you, on your skin, in the air you breathed, everywhere. With him, everything was beautiful and complete. Without him, everything was missing and lost. With him, you felt alive.

"I'm afraid I may be a little late tonight,” Marcus said as you tied the strings on his armbands. ”You'll keep your promise, won't you?”

Oh yes, your promise to him. After a lengthy discussion, he agreed to your proposal of preparing the herbal mixture for Caracalla, but he would prefer you to remain at the villa for the time being.

“I've positioned one of my men near Palatine Hill. One of the soldiers waiting outside will deliver it to him. So there's no need for you to go there," he said in a commanding tone.

You nodded. “I shall do whatever my husband says.”

A broad smile spread across his face. He wrapped his arms around you. “Say it again.”

You giggled. “I'll do whatever my husband says.”

“My ears have been blessed.” He pulled you to him and kissed you on the lips. He then sighed breaking the kiss. “I'm afraid I must take my leave now.”

“I know you'll come back to me eventually, so it will be easier to await for your arrival.”

He took your face in his hands. "You will wait my return, then, my lady?"

Of course you will, why did he ask such a question?

“I have waited a long time for you, Aurelia,” he said in his velvet voice. His expression was severe, the brown of his eyes warm, intense. “How could I not come back to you?” He kissed you on the temple. He grabbed a few strands of your hair, burried his nose in them inhaling your scent. You rose on tiptoes and kissed him with all the warmth of a woman in love. And he returned your kiss with all the joy and happiness of a man in love. If only Cato hadn't knocked on the door at that moment, you might have stayed there till night.

Once Marcus had left, you went downstairs to your little clinic-like room to make the herbal mixture. With the help of the girls, you managed to do it in less time than you expected. You did as Marcus told you and handed a vial of the mixture to one of the soldiers who were positioned outside the villa. He mounted his horse and headed to Palatine Hill.

As you sat with the girls until the evening, you found yourself feeling that strange sense of unease you had yesterday. It was just like that dream you had a few weeks ago. No matter how hard you tried to ignore it, you couldn't. And it didn't seem to go away until Marcus came back.

It was just after midnight and you were lying in bed playing with your wedding ring. Mau was sleeping peacefully next to you. But unlike her, you were far away from feeling peaceful. You couldn't sleep without seeing him return to you. Soon, however, you heard some horses neighing and murmuring, and your body filled with excitement. You quickly got out of bed. You wrapped your shawl around yourself and left the room, heading for the stairs. But you were halfway up the stairs when you saw the face of a man you didn't know. If you hadn't been holding on to the railing, you would have stumbled. One of the slaves stepped in front of the man, but he pushed him hard. From his clothes, it was clear he was one of the imperial guards. They usually kept their galea on, but not this man. At his command, five or six more soldiers entered the courtyard and all of them stood at attention. They were all dressed like imperial guards. You were wide-eyed, trying to understand what is happening, Decima ran up to you and held your hands nervously. Everyone in the villa woke up to the sounds and rushed to your side.

“You must be Princess Aurelia,” the man said, nodding then smiling weirdly at you. His eyes lingered too long on your body. You felt uncomfortable with the way he looked at you. You pulled your shawl tighter around your body. "Who do you think you are? I will not tolerate you entering my house at this time of night like a raider. I want to know who you are! Speak!"

The man laughed arrogantly. "My name is Flavius, my lady. You do not know me, but your husband does." He took a few steps towards you. "However, even if it's a very tempting idea, I am not here because of Acacius. As for your question, I am here by the command of your brother, the Emperor Caracalla. I shall take you to him."

You were both confused and afraid. "At this time of night? What is so urgent?"

"Oh, true. I forgot to mention the charges against you, forgive me." He smirked, gesturing to one of his men.

The man unfolded the scroll paper to read it aloud. "Princess Aurelia, you are under arrest by the command of the emperor. Your charges are; attempting poisoning of the Emperor himself, conspiracy behind his back, and aiding and abetting the exiled empress."

You swallowed, your heart pounding fast. It seemed likely that the ointment you had sent to Geta must have fallen into Caracalla's hands somehow. "I don't accept these charges! There must be a misunderstanding." you said.

"It doesn't really matter, my lady, I have been instructed to take you to Palatine Hill. And I will." The man came close enough to reach for your arm, but you stepped back.

"Lady Aurelia is the wife of General Acacius and also a princess. When the general returns home, they will go together to the emperor. Perhaps it would be inadvisable to take her by force, sir Flavius?” Tullia said firmly.

They knew each other? You wondered who he was.

”I remember you now. You stood up to me like this back then too. You may have aged but you're still stupid. Get out of my way at once!” Flavius barked.

Wiht Tullia's lead, the slaves and girls moving in front of you as if shielding you. The man sighed and drew his sword.

“No!” you cried.

“The Emperor's orders are final! Get out of my way or I will slay you all with my sword!”

“Do as he says!” You warned them, your voice trembling with fear. They regarded you with an uncertain expression.You held Tullia's hands. "Please, I don't want you to get hurt. I will be fine, I promise."

Then they bowed their heads and, with visible reluctance, withdrewing involuntarily.

You looked at him. “I should dress properly, first,” you said and headed for the room.

“I'm waiting, princess!” He said arrogantly.

How dare he talks to a princess like that? As soon as you walked in the room, immediately grabbed your scabbard and tied it around your ankle. You had to be prepared for anything. You put your hands on your belly, hoping everything would be fine. You put on your stola, look around the room one last time, opened the door and went out. Walked down the stairs, looking at the slaves who looked at you with concern. They were your friends, your family. You smiled at them reassuringly. The man named Flavius held out his hand to you. "My lady.”

You stepped towards outside, choosing to ignore him. Suddenly, you noticed Marcus' soldiers, who were brought to their knees with swords held at their throats by guards. "Put your swords away!" you barked them. But they looked at their commander. Flavius nodded. The men drew back their swords and sheathed them.

"General Acacius has entrusted us with the Lady Aurelia," one of the soldiers said. "We must accompany her.”

Flavius turned to him. "So that's what your General told you, eh? What if I don't let you then?"

The soldier looked at him sharply and drew his sword halfway, the sharp sound of the blade making you tense. "Then we'll have to stop you."

"No, please," you interrupted. You stopped the soldiers by raising your hands.

"My lady, please step aside. The general's orders are certain, and if we die for him, it would be an honour to do so."

Flavius laughed cruelly. “We must give him what he wants then!” He ordered to his soldiers and they all drew their swords once more. You were worried because they were outnumbered. Despite all of your objections, they began to fight. Flavius took hold of your arm and led you towards the carriage.

“Get your hands off me!” You struggled, but he was so strong. "Don't you hear me? I am your princess! You can't touch me!" You shouted at the top of your lungs but it was in vain. He made sure you were seated in the carriage and turned round. After his men killed Marcus' soldiers they mounted their horses at his command. Soon the carriage moved to take you to Palatine Hill. You couldn't stop your tears and sobs as you looked at the soldiers lying lifeless on the ground.

Marcus, where are you? you murmured as you gazed out the window, surveying the dark and gloomy streets.

A place just outside the city…

Marcus and Octavius are waiting in one of the dark streets, which is meant to be a secret meeting place. They're both wearing black cloaks. He had stationed a few of his men at key points in the city to be ready for any move Macrinus might make, and every now and then they hold a small, secret meeting in this gathering place. Secrecy was very important. It had to be late at night because it was an important matter that was only between them. But tonight there was something odd. None of his men showed up. They should have been here by now. Octavius looked down the road but didn't see anyone. They decided to wait a bit more, soon they heard footsteps coming closer. It was one of Marcus's men.

“General! Sir!” The man was out of breath. “Guards. Macrinus.”

Marcus touched his shoulder. “Easy. Breathe.” He told him. “Speak clearly. Why are you on your own?"

"Speak, Aris, what has happened?" Octavius growled.

"The imperial guards arrested all of our men and took them to Palatine Hill."

"On what grounds? What did they say?"

"Have you seen Macrinus there?" Marcus asked.

He shook his head. Suddenly there was the sound of  number of horses approaching towards them and they all tensed up.

"You were followed, you fool!" Octavius hissed.

Guards quickly surrounded and circled around them. One of them looked at Marcus. It was Flavius. “Acacius, It's been too long. Strange night, isn't it?” He jumped down from his horse. Marcus looked at him, astonished.

“Flavius?” He looked him up and down. He recognised his rank by his attire. “So you've been appointed commander of the guards? I thought you were up north.”

So he was the Macrinus' shadow man. He knew exactly what he was doing, Marcus thought.

“I returned a while ago,” he took a step closer to him. “Since I have unfinished business here. With you.” His voice sharpened.

Marcus remained still.

“You killed my brother, remember? You took him from me. And for what? For screwing your wife when you're in the south?”

Marcus clenched his fists. His body was filled with rage. He was dangerously on the edge.

"I've been looking forward to this moment for quite some time, Acacius. I have been waiting for the right moment to take what you have from you when you feel happy.”

Marcus grasped hilt of his sword. Octavius and Aris were ready, waiting for his command.

"So Macrinus made you his commander? Is this how you plan to get revenge on me?"

"He's a very clever man, I'll give him that. And he's determined to finish you, though not as determined as I am." He grinned.

"Right, so how do we do it? One on one? You and I?" Marcus drew his sword to half-length.

Flavius laughed. "You've already lost, Acacius, why should I bother?" He gestured for his man to read the emperor's order. The man unfolded the roll of paper. "General Marcus Acacius! You are under arrest by order of Emperor Caracalla! Your charges are; placing men in front of the emperor's house to spy on him, to command the armies for your own benefit, attempting to murder a member of the senate, abusing the title of general, going behind the emperor's back.”

"Right," said Flavius, coming over to him. He held his gaze. “The Emperor wants to see you. He'll be the one to decide your fate.” He approached him. “Just as he will decide your wife's fate.” He grinned with his teeth.

Marcus grabbed his throat with both hands. “What did you just say?”

The guards half-drew their swords and took up attack positions. Octavius and Aris gripped the hilt of their swords in response.

"Speak, or I'll rip your neck off!" he roared, his fingers gripping his throat tighter. Flavius seemed amused.

"Your wife, Aurelia, is a beautiful woman. I took her from the villa to Palatine Hill. I told you it was a strange night.”

Marcus punched him in the face and kicked him in the stomach, mad him fell to the ground. He then quickly drew his sword. In a flash he leapt on him and held his sharp sword to his neck. “If you say her name again, I'll cut your tongue off!” He barked. “Why did you take her there? Speak, damn you!” He was boiling with anger.

Flavius, however seemed calm. “Don’t be a fool, Acacius, if you kill me now, you'll get nothing. I'm only doing my duty.”

Unfortunately it was true, he could kill him and all the guards one by one, but that would only result in a higher charge being brought against him. Furthermore, Marcus's primary concern was you. He had to make sure you were alright, which meant he had to go to Palatine Hill with them.

Flavius ignored sharp sword pressing against his throat, laughing cruelly at him. “Revenge is a son of a whore, isn't it?”

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[within-your-eyes-if]

Within Your Eyes Intro Post

DEMO [Last Updated June 22nd, 2024]

You are a Warden, a monster hunter who has come to the Kingdom of Auris which has become the forefront runner in it’s acceptance of magic and supernatural alike within the West Highlands. But when strange happenstances occur, you are called upon not just because of skill, but also because of your condition. A condition you’ve lied about for last 12 years.

Unearth the secrets that magic holds as a new form is discovered.

Befriend or romance those who attempt to worm through the cracks of the mask you wear. Or will you fight to keep them at arms length?

Regardless of where your journey takes you, your feathered friend will be at your side. As he always has been.

This story will be 18+ for the following reasons:

Explicit and erotic intimate scenes

Death, including of a child

Violence, blood and gore

Thoughts of suicide

Mentions of suicide

Self harm

Explicit language

Mental trauma

Horror elements

Feelings of being watched

NOTE: Your character will be pretending to have a disability (blindness), not because of a disorder but out of self preservation.

This list may be updated.

You are running away from your past. As you take a this new job, you're forced to confront it. What vices do you use to cope? Will you learn to rely on others or will your raven be your only source of comfort? Will you feel guilty for your lies? Yours will be a journey of self-forgiveness, or maybe you'll only fall deeper into despair.

Play as a man, woman, or non-binary. Gay, straight, or bi.

Plenty of customization options from physical appearance to clothes.

Φ Admos de Le Wren ─ Male | Draconian | Second-Born

Admos, the Dragon Lord of Auris, ascended to the throne following a devastating conflict with his father, bypassing his older brother's claim. This decision deepened the rift among his siblings. As he enters his fifth year as sovereign, Admos grapples with guilt and uncertainty about his role in the family's discord. Will you help him find clarity or fuel his doubts?

Φ Lyth/Lyari de Le Wren ─ Gender Selectable | Draconian | Tenth-Born

Ly took on the role of Viceroy/Vicereine in Auris and became their brother Admos's Right Hand, playing a vital part in the kingdom's recovery after a conflict with their father. However, an incident they triggered over a year and a half ago almost led to another war, casting doubt on their suitability for their position and their aid to their brother. Will you help Ly grapple with their past actions and uncertainties about their role as Viceroy/Vicereine, or will their internal conflicts remain unresolved?

Φ Leese/Lea van Laere ─ Gender Selectable | Human | Vampire

Born into nobility, Lee's life as the child of prominent figures in Lenia took an unexpected turn when they were turned into a vampire. Forced to leave their home, Lee now wrestles with their new identity, desperately seeking meaning in their existence and if it's worth maintaining.

Is Lee a monster consumed by instinct, or can you help them reclaim their humanity?

Φ Xiang Xiaowen/Xiaodan ─ Gender Selectable | Human

Xiao, an ambassador dispatched to Auris to aid the Dragon Lord in Council matters, fought hard to secure their role. Serving as an unofficial advisor, they frequently share insights to assist Admos. Yet their unwavering dedication to obtaining this position hints at a deeper motivation. Perhaps they will reveal it to you.

Φ Gabriel Duarte ─ Gender Selectable | Human

Assigned to you as an assistant of sorts, the recently knighted guard is searching for their place within the Order. Perhaps their new mission will set them on a path for glory, or sink them beneath the turmoils it takes to obtain.

Φ Hestia ─ She/They | Elf? | Witch

Even the most kind have their secrets.

Φ Elies de Le Wren — He/Him | Draconian | Exiled Prince

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Φ Harus Emery — He/Him | Half-Draconian Half-Human | Warden

Poly Routes: Lyth/Lyari and Gabriel | Leese/Lea and Gabriel | Xiaowen/Xiaodan and Hestia

Love Triangle: Admos and Elies (Note: Will not be resolved in poly. Don't overthink it.)

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FAQ

Romance Information Post

Ko-Fi

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WYE will always be free with chapters released once they are finished.

This is a planned trilogy.

Thank you for reading and for your support! ♥

[theonewiththefanfics]

A Life Worth Living (one-shot)

Synopsis: As sickness creeps closer in taking her life, Y/N has come to make her final amends. Though the Astarion she fell for no longer exists, even the cold clutch of absolute power can't match true love.

This is sort of an AU! because in truth, Ascended Astarion would not give a single shit if you've left him at this point, sorry :D I just had to get this out of my head

Pairing: Ascended Astarion x fem!Reader; Astarion x fem!Reader

Genre: angst, fluff

Warnings: talks of sickness (not specified), dying, death, swearing etc. Minimally edited :)

Word count: 5115

The day was much like any other in Baldur’s Gate – sunny without even a single wispy cloud in the sky, yet the Ancunin palace rose above all the rest like a beast in the night, drowning the houses in menacing shadows.

Matches, Y/N thought, to the person living inside.

Wrought iron gate surrounded the grounds, thorny rose vines looping through, while beautiful blooms opened towards the slowly moving star above.

This could’ve been her home, had she not said no. She shuddered to think what her life would’ve been like.

That had been almost five years ago. So much had changed during that time. It didn’t even feel like just half a decade had passed, it felt more like a century since Y/N had left Astarion. But she couldn’t stay with him. Not after he’d Ascended, completing the ritual he’d killed Cazador for, and became what he had always hated – a version of Cazador himself.

Her hand had barely touched the handle of the gates before it swung open on its own accord. Y/N shouldn’t be surprised by it, not with how much magic she’d seen and experienced during her travels, but still, such small things made their impact. Whether it was an invitation inside, or a trap only time would tell.

She didn’t have much of it, which is why she was there in the first place. Had that cursed sickness not been slowly taking over her body, eating away at it, cell by cell, Y/N would have dragged this final meeting with Astarion as far in the future as she could, but there were still friends she wanted to visit, places to see, no matter how limited her life had become.

With thinly veiled amazement, because she didn’t want to marvel at what surely was slave work, she walked down the gravel path towards the large double doors of the mansion, looking at the meticulously groomed gardens. Not even a single leaf was out of place. A bittersweet smile tugged at her lips. Where once she would’ve believed Astarion to be the one to care for these plants, now Y/N knew in her heart, he’d never stoop so low as to even get on one knee to prune a rose. Such a thing was below him nowadays. Let alone sleeping next to her on a bedroll.

When she stood face to face with the large carved oak doors, her heart picked up its rhythm. She couldn’t help it, as years of memories, of love won and lost, rushed through her mind. Slowly, she raised her hand to knock.

It took about half a minute for the doors to open, an unfamiliar face staring back at her.

A vampire spawn, eyes red and glowing, looking at her with a cocked head.

“Can I help you?” he asked, giving her an appraising glance.

 Y/N let out a breath. “I’m here to see Astarion.”

“Master Ancunin is not taking any visitors. Not without a previous notice,” he said it almost with a sneer, but she just gave him a smile.

“Tell him an old friend has stopped by. From the times before.”

The vampire looked ready to scoff and throw the door closed in her face, but stopped as he was closing it, a recollection of something flashing across his features. Whether he recognised her as a hero of Baldur’s Gate, or maybe he recognised her from a story Astarion might’ve told didn’t matter, because whatever it was, hopefully would grant her this one meeting.

With that though, Y/N was left to wait outside, pretty much twiddling her thumbs. Astarion probably wouldn’t take it too kindly if she went and took a bloom, though it used to be something he did for her. He used to do so much for her…

About five minutes later, the same spawn appeared, opening the door and motioning for her to enter.

“Master Ancunin will be with you shortly.”

And once again, she was left awing at the hallway, this time completely alone. She guessed no one saw her as a threat, despite the fact she had felled many enemies, including the Absolute. But oh well. At least she didn’t have to awkwardly stand with a guard or something, trying to figure out what small talk to fill the silence with. This gave her a chance to have a look at her surroundings.

A grand staircase, looping up to both sides, stood in front of her, while the palace spiralled away to the right and left. The entrance itself was almost like a ballroom, and she was sure, Astarion had at least one, if not more. What would those look like? What would a ball itself in the Ancunin residence look like? Would there be dancing and singing? Would people be laughing?

She couldn’t imagine it. Not with how he had degraded her after Ascending, telling her to kneel, telling her he’d turn her into a spawn, not because he wanted to spend the rest of their eternities together, but because of the control he now wished to exert over her.

A vision of herself, a blood-red gown, her eyes matching the velvet he’d no doubt dress her in, flashed across her mind. And a beautiful pearl necklace cinched tightly, two large bite marks across the slant of the skin. A collar disguised as gems to tether her to him. One large gilded cage to keep her in.

“Well, well, well… if it isn’t my darling, crawling back home.”

Astarion stood at the top of the staircase landing, bringing Y/N out of her pondering.

He was a vision, as he always had been, but now, were vulnerability and love had shone in his eyes, only wry amusement and cruelty were left in their place.

His steps echoed across the empty house as he made his way down, not taking his gaze away from her. Y/N could imagine how she looked to him – covered in dirt and dust from weeks of traveling, eyes hollowed by dark circles and hair a complete mess, skin cracked around her lips, its colour dull. Compared to his meticulously coifed locks, the intricate frock and trousers, and even his gem-covered boots, she was a disaster.

Despite the pain in her heart, Y/N managed a smile. “You look good, Astarion.”

He scoffed, coming to stand before her. “Of course, I look good. I always did. You just didn’t appreciate it. Have you come back to beg? I do like a bit of grovelling. Though after what you did, there might be more you have to do than just plead for me to take you back.”

She chuckled, shaking her head and looped her arm through his elbow, undoubtedly surprising him, as she took charge and led them to the left, no idea where the hallway was going to bring her to, otherwise she might start crying. “Tell me everything Astarion. I want to know how you’ve faired these past five years.”

Her nonchalance, her whole attitude had completely stunned him, something Y/N didn’t think she was capable of, but maybe it was good. Without having knocked him off balance a bit, he might’ve just turned her away, but she needed this conversation. This closure before the sickness took her.

Together they walked inside what turned out to be a dining room. Did he even need one? He didn’t eat human food, even though he was Ascended now, and could enjoy the tastes.

“I have to say,” he started, “I did not expect to see you again.”

Y/N sighed, looking at the paintings hung along the walls, at the gleaming chandeliers above. “Believe me, I did not expect to come either.”

“Then why are you here? If not to apologise for what you did, why bother wasting my time?”

The words stung, but she wasn’t going to tell him the real reason. It wouldn’t matter to him anyway. He told her he wished she died screaming, and though that might still be a possibility, it was more likely she would simply go to sleep one night and never wake up. “Because, although I do not believe I have anything to apologise for, I did wish to make amends. Life for us mortals, is so short… and the thought of living the rest of mine, without at least having tried, seemed… wrong.”

Astarion scoffed, but she could feel him tightening his elbow, as if he didn’t want her hand to slip from the crook it rested in. “I will not apologise for my decisions.”

“I am not asking you to,” Y/N said. “I simply wish for us to become friends once more. If only for the sake of sentimentality.”

“Sentiment,” Astarion sneered. “But what else can I expect from such a creature as a human.”

Y/N let out an amused huff, pressing down the real impact it left on her heart. He knew right where to cut, because when they’d been together during the tadpole adventure, she’d laid her soul bare to him. Told him all about her fears and hopes, how much of a hopeless romantic she was, so now, to tell her it was foolish to try and rekindle if only a friendship, was stupid… but she hadn’t expected more from this version of Astarion.

He’d already given much more time than she’d expected. Half of her had thought when the spawn would tell him who was at the door, he would take the chance and fulfil his words by killing her himself.

Absolute power corrupts absolutely. It’s what she’d told him when she’d tried to talk him out of the ritual. How he would be condemning seven thousand other lives. But he hadn’t cared. Astarion had believed he deserved the power, deserved to complete what Cazador couldn’t. Y/N couldn’t stand by and watch, nor would her conscience allow her to be by his side.

And so she’d left. Because there was nothing left of the man she’d fallen in love with. For these five years after, she’d avoided Baldur’s Gate, hearing from whispers and gossip how he’d risen in the ranks of politics and society, how brutal he could be to his servants and those who stood in his way, almost reminding her of when he’d talked about his Magistrate days, only amped to a hundred. A new, sickening Cazador at the helm.

“But how have you been, darling?” Astarion almost sounded bored as they moved into what passed for a living room in this palace, Y/N assumed. “What shenanigans have you caused?”

And so she told him. As a servant spawn brought a tea-set laying out two cups, though Astarion didn’t even pick his up, Y/N recounted how she’d gone all across the Sword Coast, had travelled over the seas and seen knew lands. How she’d done the things he’d promised they would do together.

“Sounds rather… dull,” he commented, lounging on the seat. “But I suppose to such simple minds and hearts as yours, it’s all very exciting and enthralling.”

She wanted to snap at him, remind how half of the ideas she’d completed, had been his, but instead, Y/N just took a deep breath. “Have you finally gotten everything you wanted, Astarion?” she asked instead. “Are you finally happy?”

That had been the true question plaguing her mind these past years.

He turned to look at her, eyes blazing. “I have power, status, people bow to my every whim. What more could I possibly want?”

“Then I’m happy for you,” she said, setting down her half-drunk tea. “Even if it means nothing to you anymore, I am happy you’ve finally gotten what you wished.”

An awkward silence settled between the two, and Y/N took it as her cue to wrap things up. “I best take my leave.”

“And where will you possibly go?” he sneered, but stood up alongside her, making their way back to the grand oak doors.

“Karlach and I are meeting up at a local tavern. And then we’re all going to the get together at Wyll’s. You would know that, had you come to the party Wither’s invited us all to.”

“And waste my time?” he scoffed. “No thanks. This conversation has done enough of that.”

By now they were at the doors, and Y/N turned around, taking in her final fill of the vampire. No doubt this would be the last time she ever saw him. “I hope you have a good life, Astarion. You deserve it. Despite how things went down between us, I do wish all the best for you.”

Slowly, she leaned up and pressed a kiss against his cheek. It was cold, but not as cold as she had been used to. No doubt he used every opportunity to lazy out in the sun, or feed on someone.

Just as she was about to exit, he grabbed her by the wrist, his hold tight and not something she’d be able to break out of.

Astarion’s scarlet eyes narrowed in on her, pulling her closer to him.

Y/N’s heart spiked. Was he really still that hurt, he would finally cash in on that revenge? She knew she would never be able to hurt him. No matter what, that romantic heart of hers would betray her.

He snapped her to his chest, her breath hitching in her lungs, as he leaned down by her neck and inhaled. Her frame was ramrod straight, not daring to move a muscle. When he finally moved back, anger and something else raged in his eyes. Was it… fear?

“Now, my dear, tell me the real reason you came here.”

“I -,”

“And don’t lie,” he hissed. “Because I can smell it on you. In your blood.”

“Smell what?” Her voice was barely a whisper.

“Death.” And Y/N had to be hallucinating, because she was sure she heard his voice crack. “Sickness and death runs through your veins. It’s – it’s like acid.”

“What’s it matter, Astarion? What would any of it change?”

“It would chan-,” but he stopped himself.

Y/N leaned a bit closer, her Y/E/C eyes narrowed, trying to decipher what she was seeing on that stony face, but pulled back, shaking her head. “Maybe you will finally get your wish and I will die screaming.”

By the look on his face, she understood Astarion did not appreciate the comment. “You dare enter my home, under the pretences of lies and deceit,” but his vile words didn’t match what she could see brewing underneath – despair. If only she was still naïve enough to believe he felt anything else but contempt for her. “I deserve to know the truth.”

“But you do know it.” Y/N shrugged. “So I’m going to ask you once again – what does the knowledge that I am dying, change? I would still die someday. Whether it is in a week or in half a century, I would still die. What’s it matter?”

“Had you not been stupid, and accepted my offer of becoming a spawn, you wouldn’t be in this mess,” Astarion spit, but didn’t release his grip.

“I did not come here to ask you to change me.” She placed her hand against where his heart should be beating, yet everything was still under her fingers. “I am not afraid of death. I am not happy its coming for me so quickly, but I would rather have my life end now, than live as a spawn.”

Hurt crossed his face. “Would living with me really be so repulsive to you?”

“Living as your slave would.” Y/N lifted her chin. “We would not be equals. You would never see me as the person I am, but rather as a thing to own. And I, for one, thought you would be the first person to understand why I would never choose such an option.”

This was not how she wanted them to part, but it seemed like it would once again leave them as enemies.

She pulled away from Astarion, and this time he let her.

“I hope one day you do understand my choices. Because as much as I disagree with yours, I have always accepted and understood them. Live Astarion, if only for yourself.”

Sunlight greeted her, as she opened the door, but she didn’t manage to put a single foot outside, when the vampire grabbed her by the nape of the neck, pulling her back in and slamming the door shut.

“I am sorry my dear, but that simply won’t do.”

Fear didn’t even get a chance to rush through her veins when everything went black.

It was a while before Y/N finally came to, but when she did, she was laid on a plush bed, body covered in a duvet, head resting against the softest pillow in the universe, and the sky outside was the violet of the setting day.

Horror struck her as her memories came to her – of Astarion pressing his palm against her nose and mouth, preventing her from breathing. Of how unconsciousness took over, while his red eyes glared at her fading form. But worse – the conversation they’d had right before that, about refusing to become a spawn.

Did he really hate her that much, he’d turn her against her will?

But instead of Astarion sitting in the room she found…

“Gale?” Y/N’s brow furrowed as she raised herself to her forearms on the mattress. “What are you doing here?”

“Ah, you’re awake.” The wizard stood with a smile, walking to sit beside her. “How are you feeling?” He pressed a palm against her forehead, checking the temperature, and hummed when he deemed it to be normal.

“Fine,” she mumbled. “But again – what are you doing here?”

“Astarion called.”

“Astarion?” Y/N was befuddled. She would’ve assumed Gale would be the last person ever he would contact, well, last except for her. Especially if he’d turned her into a spawn. No doubt would their friends come to battle if they heard such a thing. And yet Gale seemed perfectly content in the vampire’s castle.

“He sent such a panicked message, I portaled here as quickly as the Weave would allow and-,”

Gale was stopped mid-sentence as the door clicked open.

But the man standing in the doorway wasn’t the Astarion she’d known before, the man she had fallen head over heels in love with, or even the Ascended Astarion she’d spoken to that day. No. This Astarion had eyes as bright green as freshly grown grass, cheeks red and full of life and the blunt incisors of a human, hope and shame shining in his irises.

She whipped her head to Gale. “What in the name of all the Hells did you two do?”

“We saved your life,” the now ex-vampire entered the room, his movements slow as if Y/N was a deer he would startle if he did anything quicker than the pace of a snail. “And I paid the price for it.”

She swallowed hard. “And what exactly was the price?”

“My immortality.”

Now, Y/N assumed she’d been cured as she was inclined to believe not only because of Astarion’s transformation, but because Gale so meticulously was counting her breaths and heartbeat, but that confession almost did take her out, the shock of it all.

She threw a wary glance at the wizard. “So – so I’m not a spawn?”

“No,” Astarion shook his head. “But I don’t blame you for believing I would do such a… vile thing.”

Heavy silence settled in the room when she finally turned to look at him. “But I thought you had everything you ever wanted.”

“I did so too,” he nodded. “But when I smelled it, that – that sickness in your blood… I guess it is true what they say – love is the most powerful magic of all. Because the thought of you dying – it did something to my head… my heart. I could not let that happen.”

Y/N surveyed him, the new person standing before her. “You gave up everything for me. All the power… everything…”

“I won’t lie – I almost gave into the temptation, I almost did bite you. But these past five years were… miserable. And the thought of living the rest of eternity with the knowledge you hated me before you died… it wasn’t something I could do. Even with all the power in the world, the one weakness I have never been able to rid myself of is you.”

Neither noticed Gale clear his throat and motion towards the door, and neither noticed how it shut behind the wizard, leaving them on their own.

She watched as Astarion crossed the room, and sat himself down at the very foot of the bed, eyes locked onto the fingers in his lap. He was still as graceful as ever, but no longer was there this predatory supernatural sense to it. Now he was more a ballet dancer, than a stalking panther.

“So what happens now?”

“Now,” he sighed. “Now I don’t know. I didn’t really think further than Gale performing the ritual and hoping it would be enough.”

“Am I… immortal now?”

“No,” Astarion shook his head, and his smile was so warm, it almost knocked her back down to the bed. “You’re as human, as human can be. Only healthy now. Hopefully with many a decade before you yet to be lived.”

“And you?” she had to address the elephant in the room. “What exactly are you now?”

“I,” he sighed and looked at the wall. No, not the wall, but a large mirror, his eyes boring into the ones of his reflection. “I am what I was before Cazador. As common as a high elf can be.”

“I just don’t understand,” Y/N said. “I don’t get why you would do such a thing. Seven thousand spawn died for you to gain all that power, for you to prove you could complete what Cazador couldn’t. How could you just throw it all away?”

Astarion sighed, standing up and moving to the other side of the room where a large open door stood, leading out to a balcony. He leaned against the railing, and Y/N finally got out of the bed.

She could feel the strength having returned to her muscles. No longer did they ache, no longer did her bones scream, no longer did she feel tired and weak. A new zeal of life had filled her, and she couldn’t get why Astarion had given it all up for her to – what? Live maybe just a couple of more decades?

Together they leaned on the marble railing, overlooking the lush gardens, the flowers now a duller colour, but still as beautiful in moonlight, as they were in the sun.

“For five years I imagined what I would do if you showed up on my doorstep,” Astarion started. “There were times I imagined taking you and putting you in chains, dragging you to a dungeon and inflicting unspeakable pain, because that’s how it felt when you left. I wanted to do nothing but hurt you. And then I imagined how you would have come to your senses, how you would come and beg me to turn you into a spawn, finally realising your place was always beside me.”

He looked at her. “But then you did turn up. And all I could do was barely hold it together and not kiss you then and there. When you said you were dying, but that it would be a better life than with me, something… something cracked. Whether it was my sense coming back to me, the part of my brain that made good decisions being released from a prison of power, I don’t know.” Astarion chuckled. “But the only thing running through my head was – the one person that has always loved you selflessly, is dying. And you’re a pathetic coward that can’t do anything to stop it.”

“When Gale told me there was a way to heal you, but it would cost me, somehow I didn’t even pause to think. I just told him to do it. If the price for you being able to live a fulfilled life was having my power, my immortality stripped away, he could’ve for all I cared, spilled all my blood and let me bleed dry. As long as it meant you were here – living and breathing.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s what you would’ve done. And I couldn’t be bested by a dying woman. Would turn you into a full martyr, and I couldn’t have someone outshining me like that.”

Y/N wiped at her eyes and cleared her throat, letting out a choked back laugh. “What was the ritual?”

“Apparently Gale had been looking at certain transfers of power for a while.” Astarion shrugged. “When I contacted him, I didn’t even have anything specific in mind, I just knew he would probably be the best at figuring out what, if anything, could be done. Of course, had the answer been negative, it would not have ended well for our dear wizard, but you understand my point.”

“Well, I am glad Gale is still in one piece.” Y/N looked at him as she slowly covered his palm with hers. Astarion’s breath hitched, when she intertwined their fingers. “And I am grateful to the both of you for what you did. But I will forever be in debted to you.”

“No,” Astarion shook his head, tightening his hold, as if terrified she’d slip away like sand. “There is no debt to be repaid. Actually, I think I should be the one thanking you. For showing up. For even thinking I was worth enough to say goodbye to, but I have to ask… Were you ever going to tell? Had I not smelled it on you, would you have ever told anyone? Because when I told Gale, he was so stunned, I almost thought he would join you and pass out.”

“No,” Y/N shook her head. “By the time I decided I had to see you at least once more before I… well, you know… I’d already met all of our friends individually. I had thought of asking Shadowheart if there was a spell maybe, but ultimately, no.”

“Why would you keep something like that to yourself?”

“I didn’t feel like burdening the others.” She shrugged her shoulders. “We’ve all gone through so much darkness, have so much else to worry about, I didn’t want to add more to that.”

“Surely you know those idiots would ride blindfolded into battle for you.”

“I do. But it’s not like I would want that. Besides… if those were to be my last days, I wanted them to be filled with joy and fun things. Not with Halsin worrying if such excitement was healthy for me, or Lae’Zel scolding me for certain decisions. And let’s not even mention Karlach who’d cross the world searching for a cure that might not even exist.”

“And you left me for last…”

Y/N bit down hard on her lip. “Because it took everything in me to get over the hurt. Get over what you did and said. Because I was terrified you would slam the door in my face if I showed up.”

A tear rolled down his own cheek, as he bit the inside of it. “A fair assumption. And maybe if you’d come earlier, I would have. But… deep down I knew, I would have done everything to try and make you stay. Even through the haze of that power… my heart has always been yours. And still is. If you will have it.”

The words coming out of her mouth hurt, but they had to be said, despite how ardently she wished to say yes and return to how things were. But she knew she couldn’t neither of them could. “I don’t think it’s a good idea, Astarion.” She could see him visibly shrink down, tears now unabated as they flowed like rivers from his eye. He wanted to pull away, but she didn’t let him, holding onto his hand tighter, running a soothing thumb over his hand, so warm and alive under her touch, it made her sigh.

 “You’ve just regained yourself.” Y/N tried to give what was an endearing smile, but was probably more a grimace.  “You’ve just become an elf again… there is so much you need to grasp and realise… I don’t think a relationship is what would be good right now.”

Two green eyes met her Y/E/C ones. Gods, the colour was so gorgeous, she felt like drowning in his gaze. “The only thing I was ever sure of in my life was you. Even as an Ascended bastard. And then I blew it. Absolutely smashed my chance to pieces like an idiot, but… if you’ll allow it. I would like another try. If only at being someone worthy to stand by your side.”

Y/N felt her lips quirk up. “Would it be overtly presumptuous of me to think, that by the end of it, you would wish to be more than friends?”

“If I am only allowed to be your friends, I will fall to my knees before you and beg for the chance. But no longer will I lie and say my true intentions aren’t to hopefully, one day, get on one knee, and wish for a shared life.”

She had not seen such a version of Astarion, so candid and vulnerable, since leaving him. And for him to be so open, made some resolve in her melt a bit. “We can try. Slowly.”

It was like a boulder had rolled off Astarion’s chest, his whole body visibly shuddering in relief, before he tentatively, as if waiting for her rejection, weaved a hand around her waist.

She rested her head against his shoulder, revelling in the feeling of him pressing his cheek to the top of it. And when he tilted her chin up, a hopeful gaze in his eyes as it slipped to her lips, she didn’t stop him when he pressed his mouth to hers.

It was like surfacing for a breath after years of being pulled down in an abyss, something Y/N never thought she’d be able to do again. And that kiss – it was filled with so much love, she didn’t need oxygen to breathe.

There was still a world of hurt between then, a universe of making up to be done, but they had time. They had all the time they wanted or could need.

“To a new start, my love.” She muttered against his lips, and the smile Astarion gave her was more brilliant than the moon and stars shining in the sky combined.

“And to a life worth living.”

The next kiss they shared sure as hells was.

Tags:

Astarion tags: @spacebarbarianweird @omggiannarosa @poisonquinzell @iffazu @alisoncdariel

Everything tags: @palaiasaurus64 @supernaturalbaesduh @thatawkwardlittlefangirl @sea040561 @staryeyedgirl @deathbyarabbit @m-a-t-91 @maladaptive-ninja-returns @averyrogers83 @gallifreyansass @dewy-biitch @avxgers @unlikelygalaxygiver @magicwithaknife @ollyoxenfrees @bnhvrdy @thatkindofgurl @sj-thefan @lestersglitterglue @im-squished @strangersstrange

A/N: My tags are always open

Please don't repost onto other platforms! That is called plaigarism :)

I also had an idea of writing this from Astarion's POV, so if that is something of interest, do let me know :)

[theguyinthemathexamples]

Sunday meeting the Creation while (unknowingly) ascending to Aeonhood !!

A lil' something for y'all after my longlonglonglonggggggg disappearance :3

If the sinners couldn't be rid of by Their divine hand, then he shall do it himself. But his— her God pertains the notion of sparing the evil and giving them a chance to seek solace in THEIR thousand voices, or the ones of the Primaxus Deus.

Sunday wishes to see her vision one last time, to see with his own eyes if these sinners could truly turn back to the right path. He's done this before countless times before— but he wants to put this belief of hers to yet another run. Was it to reminisce on lost time, or run from his own sacred beliefs?

And yet still, he doesn't see nor hear the sounds of the battle, neither could he speak in this newfound space; all he can see was this shining path, a separating rift from the boundless luminescent seas it tore through.

He takes a cautious step forward and all of the nearby stars were already flocking towards his shoes with reverence, whispering things of the comprehensable mortal plane to the maddening knowledge of the divine. Some know of his current predicament, while some predict how his future would be another footnote in history, success or otherwise.

Time seems to slow here, atleast that was how Sunday saw it. His path was solid yet it made ripples with each step he took but, it never splashed water. He had half a mind to keep walking.

The stars do not have eyes— as if it would ever, yet he still feels as if he was being stalked, being followed by a presence. He wants to ask, yell out who it was, but his mouth was sealed shut. With no other choice does he continue walking. Faint cackles, and the sound of distorted heavenly choir whispers could be heard in the distance.

At last he sees something in the distance other than endless starry seas: a large, disembodied arm. Well, it looks that way anyways. The rest of the body looks to be shrouded in darkness.

Sunday got closer and closer to this arm when a sun suddenly rose up just ahead of his path. He can't help but feel familiar with this sun. The ones beside his feet tell him it's the one in his solar system of origin. But... he's seen and looked at countless stars upon the starry skies, how can he remember something that glowed hot and bright on the days when he was trying to keep survival closer with his sister?

The smaller beads of light beneath his legs gently pushed him towards the right direction, humming familiar tunes along the way.

Yet again, it was another long walk to his new destination. Sunday doesn't feel tired, if at all from walking all this way when he'd usually need a break by now. The stars provided decent entertainment along the way, luckily enough.

He carefully approaches this large hand, now as big as one of the walls in the Dewlight Pavilion. Memories of his death resurfaces in his mind. A small curse is stifled under his breath. No matter, he'll get rid of the concept of death in his promised dreamscape soon enough.

And just as he begins to tentatively sit on the beckoning heat of the hand, exactly as the stars excitedly encouraged him so, the space shook harshly and he falls. Sunday looks around in a panicked apprehension, which the beads of stars expressed as much if not more.

The large hand brushes along his figure in an almost comforting way, till it disappears after a few swipes. The stars dissipate as well in fear, leaving him in the neverending darkness.

He clutched his chest, almost in agony, a baffled look on his face when he tried to search for the warmth of the hand. Sunday hadn't asked them his question yet.

"So... Why does life slumber?..." He asks to the dark, not expecting answers. Machine parts clammer along his movements.

"Because... someday..."

"We will wake up from our dreams!"

And so does he, too wake up from his own slumber. And along with his shattered will, the stage beneath him crumbled and fell.

Sunday lets himself drop untowards the Golden Hour, reaching out to the world where he promised an impossible pledge to countless souls, unable to fly back where he wished due to his clipped wings.

The night is still... too short...

Arms cradle his figure and bringing it to a tight hug. This action brought him out of his stupor, embracing his sister in reflex.

He dipped his head low, imminent defeat having already been accepted. Yet again do memories flash his mind, but they were only about his 'dream.' What did it all mean?

"Brother..."

"The dream... is over."

[thesassypadawan]

Make Them Blue (Will x WifeReader) *Blurb*

Summary: It’s No Nut November and your hubby decided to join a ‘friendly’ office pool with his fellow suits.  Everything was going well until the heating/cooling at work breaks.  Drenched in sweat, his only thought is coming home and taking that long yearned for shower.  Which you are more than happy to give him with your tongue. 

Warnings: 18+ (minors dni), because all the lovely smut.  Sweat kink, one smexy dilf, yummy cinnamony/earthy taste, and…Will’s skilled fat dick.

Notes: Happy No Nut November all you, lovelies! 🤍💙

- You know you’re being obvious, not discreet at all.  Unable to stop staring since he came home from work this evening.  Watching intently at the way his powder blue shirt clings to his perspiring body; rides up to reveal the dewy crease of his hips; how the stains under his arms look so…scrumptious.

- “Come here…”  Will’s skin glistens, appears to shimmer in the soft flickering glow of candlelight.  “I only want a little…”  Eyes focus, tracking a drop of sweat roll from behind his ear; down his throat, his chest.  “Please…”  Splatters onto your cheek; trickles into your eagerly waiting, open mouth.  “Daddy…”

- Drunk off his essence, off his aroma.  Breathy moan escapes you when the familiar salty flavor coats your tongue yet again.  That cinnamony, earthy, distinct masculine scent fills your lungs once more.  A truly intoxicating cocktail, you’ve come to learn and love…crave and need.

- Opening wider, pressing your lips to his jugular.  Sloppily dragging across his pulse point; swirling, tracing the curve of his adam’s apple.  Collecting, enjoying each savory bead.  All the while greedily sucking, leaving pretty pink blotches in your wake.  Accepting each of his… 

- Steadily he thrusts, deep into your inviting warmth.  “Only a little, baby girl?”  Grunting, groaning; low, raspy voice rumbling through your tastebuds…the rest of your pleasure-weakened body. “Seems like a bit…extra than that.”

- “M-Mew,” you squeak happily, meekly.  Continuing to lap blissfully at his flushed flesh; gathering another small mouthful, letting it pool on the tip of your tongue.  “Sorry, didn’t me-mean to go so far…make y-you lose.”  Before hungrily swallowing it all, licking your lips.  Cooing in satisfaction…gaze locked with his.  “Y-you just taste too go-good, can’t hel-help myself.”

- “Don’t…was only a matter of time…until I cracked.”  Using his strength…his weight, Will pins you against the bed.  Driving you further into the soaked sheets; heat enveloping you, washing over.  Desperate moan escapes you, low growl from him.  The force behind those hips increasing, growing erratic; wild, almost feral.  Heavy, full balls slapping wetly against your bottom.  “Can’t keep me out of this perfect pussy…for long.”

- Crashing together, capturing your lips in a messy kiss.  Your legs weakly try to wrap tighter around, hike higher on his damp waist.  Fingers fumble, scramble for perches on his clammy back.  Only to slip, slide in a futile attempt to bring him even closer; to smother and drown yourself in his smell.  Pathetic whine bubbling up from you throat.

- Breaking apart, looming and hovering above.  “What's wrong…wifey?”  He pants, sputters; warm, labored puffs of air fan your face.  “Still want…more?”  While he prods, bruises your poor cervix.  Fat droplets raining onto your chin, neck…between your cleavage.

- Leaning forward, his tongue trails across the swell of your breast.  “Course you do…”  Ascending, sweeping up each bead along the path.  “Always want more of…”  Mixing it with his saliva, creating a tantalizing blend.  “Your hubby’s taste…”

- That he forces into your gaping maw, down your parched throat.  While drenching your trembling, shuddering walls with your third favorite delicacy.

Tag List: @espinathena-17, @myheartwillgoon2022, @laylaplease, @princessswifie, @kenobiskywalker16, @loverforoldermen, @jediavengers, @decaffeinatedunicorn, @theoriginalsinner28, @xoxo-hayden-fangurl-xoxo, @fredswrite, @anisangeldust, @catachlysmicjedi, @anakinstwinklebunny, @xhunnybeeex

@littlelamy, @khoatic-with-no-energy, @raiwpenl, @malinadbbdh, @strokingforyou26, @xspacexwitchx, @em-21, @hearts4sammonroe, @shouldbetakencareof2, @loxbbg, @supersoldatbarnesstuff, @thesilentreaderrrrr, @theoriginalsinner28, @dumb-slut-things, @indigoblues1207, @ald6518, @julxstrawberry, @wh0sl0ttie, @tojis-missing-arm, @xoxo-hayden-fangurl-xoxo, @theladykassia, @doblasftcisco, @morguexmvp, @f4iryjinsworld, @nyxiesstuff, @heymamasblog, @justsomeimbicel, @prettywhenicry-777, @femme-is-typing, @maddis0n4, @ttdrake, @melmurkun, @brattyyybbg, @zara13ts, @bigaoibhe2024, @neocitywhore, @ter-luer, @ladyanaschmidt, @sarahflores07,  @death934, @dovepevensie, @adorebambie, @pookiswookis, @icecoldhearts, @elliemariscal, @allievalll, @moonlxght-tyler, @1-racha, @tosterwwannie, @inejghafawifesblog, @carlgrimeswifeofficial, @hellemo666, @pitas-star, @sapphirefrog-blog, @carlgrimeseyepatch, @melonmochi, @coldcupcakedinosaur, @juli007, @skyguy8108, @frogtowne, @jennasco, @nothinspecial1000, @burnthispls666, @dovepevensie, @xxxxxxctu, @abobiwan-kenobi, @kpopperotp12

[quarterlifekitty]

What if 👀 fire emblem three houses!AU

In this— I imagine you and all of the guys are graduates of Garreg Mach officer’s academy. They’ve all become knights of Seiros, while you, being a bearer of the crest of Seiros, are being groomed to take up a higher position of authority within the church. (Thinking of having Laswell as the archbishop. Wouldn’t that be funny?)

Gaz is noble born but decided to become a knight, leaving the care of his house to his sister. He started as a myrmidon and eventually became a swordmaster. He was something of a heartbreaker in his academy days, though you remained immune to his charms then and now. He bears a major crest of the elite. He’s more concerned with your safety now that you have an important position.

Soap is a commoner, and began as a brawler, now a war master. In his academy days, he cared much more for training than studying, and was constantly pestering you to spar with him. He tries to show more deference now because of your position in the church, even though you’ve said there’s no need. He bears no crest.

Ghost began as a mercenary and mage, and now is a mortal savant. He bears a minor, unknown crest. His allegiance is only really to individuals, rather than the church— namely you and Price. In his academy days he was know for being unapproachable, with not much having changed. He resents that you’ve been pulled further into the fold of the church without being given much choice, but is by your side in the matter regardless.

Price is a paladin, and is of an earlier graduating class, though his years and yours did overlap somewhat. He bears the minor crest of a saint. He’s loyal to a fault to the church, perhaps, and now you’re grouped in along with it.

Nikolai is from Price’a graduating class. He is a wyvern lord and has a knack for animal handling. In your academy days, he teased you relentlessly for being smaller and having no shortage of issues when it came to learning to bond with mounts. He gives you a smug sort of smile whenever he has to bow in your presence. He bears no crest.

König is a noble, bearing a major crest of the elite. His family expects him to withdraw from knighthood when he is needed to take command of his house, and he’s dreading that day. He was a cavalier and is now a great knight, with training as a bow knight. In your academy days, he was known for his complete lack of affinity for all types of magic, and for spending more time at the stables than in the presence of others. He had hoped to propose to you upon your graduation, but your being ascended into a church position has delayed that. He’s waiting for the right moment.

Horangi is a disinherited noble, as he does not bear a crest. He’s since found his way through many walks of life, and worked as a mercenary prior to becoming a knight. He is a trickster, having both an affinity with the blade and for healing magic. He is loyal to you still— where his employment as a knight began purely in self interest, he now holds some belief that you might actually better the world through your new position, where he finds other church officials do nothing more than uphold status quo.

Nikto is a dark knight. He grew up at the monastery, though he did have a stint outside of its walls traveling, he came back and was granted admission to the officers academy, partially due to his martial prowess and partially due to his bearing of a major saint’s crest. He has the greatest affinity with dark magic, and that combined with his unwavering use of a mask has made others distrust him. Despite this, he is grateful to the church for its support in his life, and sees no better path for himself than serving it for as long as it doesn’t inconvenience him. He dislikes many of the other knights and does not see them as truly loyal. As such, he is often keeping tabs on which ones are close to you and attempting to get closer.

@machveil heehee 💖

[astheforcewillsit]

The thranto fandom's headcanon to make Eli Vanto's parents villains, homophobic or abusive when no where in canon states that, and when he's shown to have extreme concern for them and their reputation over his own is such a strange take.

Like this man loves his family. He was content to be in a career path that kept him close to them until Thrawn entered his life, and even when he left his parents, he was still concerned with how him leaving made them look.

Eli didn't care about what people said about him, only about his friends (which it's implied he probably has some in Wild Space) and his parents.

Like this monster the fandom has built out of them is weird. They aren't abusive. He doesn't hate them. He's not willingly estranged from them, and still cares about them lightyears away. He's gone from them because Thrawn sent him to the Chiss Ascendency.

And their distrust of Thrawn was the exact same distrust Eli had about Thrawn when they first met, and the entirety of the Chiss Ascendency has about Eli. None of it is right, but the Vanto's aren't the only one's guilty of it.

Yet they're made the bad guys? And their distrust came out of genuine concern for their son who's entire life had been derailed by someone who murdered a good chunk of imperial storm troopers & continued to raise through Imperial ranks when Eli himself did not.

These are not evil, homophobic people. They're concerned parents, and clearly Eli is a concerned son. He still thinks fondly of them.

I gag whenever i see that mischaracterization of them and not in a good way.

it doesn't help that Eli and his entire family are people of color.

like why make them homophobic when you can have the most exciting, awkward dinner between the Vantos and the Chiss, because their southern hospitality makes them try no matter what they're feeling.

[kudossi]

like water through weeping rock

Hollyleaf looks exactly the age at which she died. Looking at her, Jayfeather feels his age in every creaking bone, every painful joint. He wonders what image he’ll take, when he ascends to the stars: will he be young, unburdened by knowledge or secrets or death? Will he assume the shape closest to his sister, when she’d been back and they’d fallen into their old habits, their old piles of pelts and purrs? Would he be older than her in death, an age she’d never reach — the shape he had been when he had forgiven his mothers? When he had trained Alderheart fully? Or would it be a form he hadn’t yet discovered, one far away and shrouded by time?

Hollyleaf hadn’t lived to be anything other than a young cat. Jayfeather has the opportunity to grow old, to die peacefully in the elders’ den, to walk the forest paths for season upon season. But his sister looks happy here, content in a way she had never been in life. The weight of the forest has been shrugged from her shoulders, and as she approaches, he sees echoes of her spin around him, muddying the skies with turmoil and fear and anger. Each defining moment sinks into his soul as easily as one sinks into their nest, eased by the peace she’d found with herself before she had died. He edges away from the ideas of the futures she could have had that pelt him like sleet — stinging pains against his face like staring into rain-drenched winds.

“Holly,” he says instead, a relieved sigh that rips almost violently through his chest.

“Jay,” she returns warmly, pressing her starlight-cold cheek into his own. A purr rattles in her throat, warming him from nose to tail-tip.

It’s been years since she died, but it feels like moments as her loss carves through his chest once more. “It’s good to see you,” he whispers.

“You see me every moon, you goof,” she returns. He can feel her whiskers twitch against his spine in amusement.

Jayfeather closes his eyes, shutting away his star-given sight, and focuses on the scent of his sister underneath the tang of night sky. “It’s not enough,” he murmurs.

“No,” Hollyleaf agrees. “It never is. But it’s more than most cats get.”

“Most cats don’t spend their lives in service to the stars,” Jayfeather replies. It’s an old argument, the familiarity making the words easy.

“It would have been nice,” Hollyleaf says, “to live a life with you and Lion, no matter the form it took.”

Jayfeather is struck—again, again, again—by how young the ghost she inhabits is. “It would have been wonderful,” he says softly. He’s not here for this — for a too-brief conversation with his dead sister — but he thinks the stars can afford him this, a few stolen moments with the sibling they stripped away.

Cruel, unnecessary; callous and cold as starlight. There’s grief blanketed over his shoulders, bitterness spreading on his tongue. None of these are unfamiliar to him. He knows what Hollyleaf chose. He knows he’s lucky that the stars took her at all.

He knows that Cinderpelt was given a second chance, even though the life she’d lived was one that she’d loved.

Hollyleaf looks at him steadily. There’s no sympathy or pity in her gaze, and he’s thankful for this cat who knows him so well.

She seems dimmer than she was last moon, and the moon before. He wonders if he’s imagining that she’s fading, but knows he isn’t. He knows that she’ll be gone before him, taken again from those who loved her best. The living world forgets — there’s no such thing as permanency for the cats who swear their lives to the stars. And forever…? What is forever?

[abbyfmc]

Yandere Eunuch! x Empress! Reader Phrases #2:

-I will always be there for you, your highness. It doesn't matter if the emperor expels me from the palace or makes me work for someone else. You will always be present in my heart.- The yandere eunuch will always swear allegiance only to you, no matter the situation.

-If you think someone wants to hurt you or has disrespected you, just tell me and I will gladly punish them.- And of course, if the yandere eunuch swears loyalty to you, this phrase will not be missing. In an environment of this type, loyalty between servant and master is super important, since attacks can come from anywhere, whether they are "ordinary" civilians (possible disguised rebels); the imperial family itself (as brothers and cousins ​​of the emperor); your own family (due to clan pressure) and even your own imperial harem (if your emperor husband has one).

-I have been poisoned many times in order to take care of you, but I don't care. What I admire is how you care about me.- And of course, with the attacks on you, poisoning would come. The yandere eunuch would not sit still and would probably sample portions of your food or drink; inspect incense or "medicines" and as a result, he will have been poisoned on more than one occasion and perhaps almost died. What he will admire about you is that you care about his life and health.

-Your Highness, you are pregnant and your life is therefore more vulnerable, that is why I must accompany you no matter what.- We don't have to talk much about this. If you get pregnant thanks to the emperor, his paranoia as a yandere will increase by a thousand.

-If you find a needle in your clothes, tell me and I will gladly stick it in the eyes of the person responsible for such negligence towards you.- Yes, in case it wasn't enough for you to check your food, now he will thoroughly check your clothes and blankets with that excuse, although we know that he does it in order to touch EVERYTHING that has to do with you.

-How come I can't enter? It is my duty to ensure the safety of the empress at all times! I don't care if I'm a man, or if I'm not even the emperor, I WANT to see that his highness is okay!- And it was clear that if you got pregnant, the day of delivery was going to come sooner or later. The yandere eunuch knows perfectly well that you are suffering a lot (because the maids are agitated everywhere, in addition to hearing you scream and cry from outside) and that you are in a very vulnerable and delicate moment in which ANY alteration can cause terrifying scenarios such as death both yours and your baby's.

-Your Highness, I knew you in my worst moments when I endured many insults, punishments and whippings in the palace. You helped me a lot; If something happens to you or you die, I will go crazy. I don't want to live without you.- It's what the yandere eunuch would say or think if he found out that your birth was complicated, since he fears more for your life than that of your child.

-My highness, I am willing to do whatever you wish. If you want to eliminate other of those imperial women and her children, I will always support you to ascend; my highness. You can use me.- If you were a malevolent and sadistic empress (the kind in palace dramas and royal historical records) to the point of not caring about killing or harming concubines and consorts; as well as her sons and daughters; He will help you commit each of those crimes to clear your path, solely to make you happy.

-Your highness can call me or nickname me whatever you like.- I don't know how customary it was for monarchs and members of the royal/imperial family to nickname or give names to their servants or why they did it. Whatever the case, the yandere eunuch is willing to accept this treatment from you, since he thinks that at least this way you will pay more attention to him in some way.

-It doesn't matter how many wives or concubines the emperor has; No one will ever compare to you, no matter how much they want your position, my highness. You are very beautiful, but that stupid emperor doesn't know how to appreciate you like I do.- And of course there have been historical records of emperors who have completely abandoned their empresses or the occasional consort or concubine to death (like the step empress Nara), and whether they have done bad things or not, they end up condemning them. to death or house arrest until the end of his days. If your emperor does this to you, the yandere eunuch would say these words to you as some kind of weird comfort.

-I hate to see how you wear out your health so much for your duties and for a man who will never love you like I do.- And of course, being the empress, sooner or later stress would start to attack you. This would worry the yandere eunuch, especially if he starts to affect you physically. He would be able to go himself and ask the emperor to let you rest for a few days.

-Never mind succumbing to the raging fire for your highness. If I have to save you or die hugging you, I will gladly do it.- If for some reason your chambers catch fire, you are inside and you did not manage to escape, the yandere eunuch would be the first to come out to look for you and try to rescue you… or die with you.

-How dare you insult the empress and her son/daughter! On top of that, you dared to curse an imperial child!.- The yandere eunuch considers cursing you or your child to be a serious crime, to the point that he dares to slap anyone who does it several times, or cut out their tongue if you and the emperor let him do it.

-I know I have committed a crime, your highness, but it was because of my love for you. If you want to throw me out of the palace, slap me, beat me or kill me, I don't regret anything.- He doesn't care if he is catched killing someone. He does whatever he can, just for you.

-It breaks my heart to see you like this, your highness. I will do everything she can to encourage you, just as I will not let others bother you.- No matter what you're going through, the yandere eunuch will always do whatever he can to make you feel better, including FORCING others not to bother you.

-If you die, I don't want to go anywhere else. I will serve you even in the afterlife.- There were cases in which when a ruler died, his servants committed suicide to follow their masters into the afterlife and the yandere eunuch would be not the exception. He would be so devastated by your death to the point of committing suicide to never let you go.

-End.

[fuji-sen]

Journey of a Yaksha; Weeping Begonias

[ masterlist ] [ next part ] dividers by @/enchanthings

Time had been cruel to you, as a Yaksha you were cursed gifted to live a long life. Yet the power that ran through your veins could not protect you from the suffering and illness you had obtained for being alive so long. Your memories began to wilt, to turn to ashes like the numerous plants and fauna during the war.

The earliest you could remember was not when you were but a baby or fawn, but it was when you were a weapon of war. The blood in your veins hailed from that of Yakshas, a race no doubt dwindling due to the ongoing war, a war to pick from the best of the best among the gods of Teyvat, to ascend and become Archons.

Yakshas were strong, illuminated beasts. Because of their strength and appearance, they were used in the War, to fight for the God they believed to be the best choice for Liyue, the region they were born in and grew to protect.

And because of that blood, you had been taken and enslaved by a cruel God. A god who would raise his hand towards his own allies. The God used you and your powers to slay and take lives, it did not matter if the life was innocent or not, if it was a god or mortal. Your God did not care, all he focused on was ridding the path he trekked on of any obstacles.

What you remembered then on was simply a life of bloodshed. You could not die, you could not truly live, for your entire being and individuality was taken by that God. And just like your memories, you emotions and self began to erode, leaving nothing but a husk, a perfect weapon of war.

Until,,,

You watched as the blood of your God wet the coarse dirt, you stood there like a statue, eyes casted down on the divine being.

The God who you once saw as nothing but Strong and Invincible seemed pathetic as he began to choke on his own blood, you did nothing to help with his injuries nor did you listen to his orders. Not because you couldn't, you simply didn't wanted to.

He was ready to sacrifice numerous lives, young and old, weak and strong, man and God, yet as he laid there on the ground, begging for help, nothing wanting to perish, you could only say...

"You who took so many lives, killed and plundered. . you should have been ready for your life to have been taken too." You chuckled, how did you let yourself be enslaved by such a God?

you began to laugh as the light in his eyes deemed, your only regret that day was that you did not kill him yourself.

What came after the death of your God was a new found freedom. One you did not want to relinquish to any other person but yourself. You decided to then leave the region and began travelling to the other regions, despite the ongoing war to chose an Archon.

Your first stop had been the region of Mondstadt, a cold desolate region covered by layers upon layers of white soul. There were two Gods battling for the throne that Celestia offered, one was Boreas and the other Decarabian. You did your best to avoid them, which was easier than you thought as the two Gods were stations northwest of the region.

"What is it you are looking for?" you turned to a wisp of wind, "I do not know." You answered truthfully as you turned away, hand held out as you watched the snowflakes rest on the palm of your calloused hands. The blood had dried, leaving a red stain on your hands.

As you explored the region you had met an elemental being and a bard, as well as a clan whose name was Gunnhildr. "Then if you have no plans, would you please lend us your aid?" the bard asked, his fingers strumming the harm in his hands.

"Okay."

It was relatively peaceful as long as you were away from the two Gods, yet you knew you could not stay there. Your powers were that of Dendro, and living in such a cold place will do you more harm than good.

So in the end you had to part ways with the group and head to a different region. By the time you had made it to Inazuma, there was a God that was chosen to become an Archon already, as there was no other competitors left in the nation of Electro, at least that was what you thought.

You had the pleasure of meeting her, a woman of elegance and beauty, Makoto was her name. She was never alone, if its not her friends or attendants, then she was always accompanied by her sister, Ei.

Both were strong in their own ways and believed in 'Eternity' albeit in different perspectives. Makoto believed in the beauty of transience, which was something constant in the world. While Ei had believed in something she had described as 'stillness.' Such words had been beyond you at the time.

Being raised and used as a weapon you had not received education outside of knowledge needed in the battlefield. So that was where Makoto had came, offering to teach her the beauty of humanity, and the things that "were outside of war."

That period of life in your memories were beautiful, but just like Makoto's ideals, it was transient. For when the snake God Orobashi came, there began a new war which led to you having to leave.

The idea of war and more bloodshed had disgusted you, but more so it traumatized you. Not in the way that you cried or your body tremored, but in the way how you began to shut down. Retreating behind a wall of indifference and withdrawal.

It was Makoto who suggested you leave and continue to journey across Teyvat for a home.

"I hope you come back again though." she said brushing your hair one last time. "Me and Ei will miss you."

". . ." you remained silent, unable to find the right words to respond with, from the mirror's reflection you could see Makoto smile softly behind you, "Please be careful."

You bobbed your head, looking at your clenched fists. A feeling began to grow in you, but it was not bloodlust or anger, it was something else, resembling the crashing waves of the ocean or the faces the bard had made along with the others as you had left mondstadt.

"are you sad?"

"i don't know"

You set sailed on a boat provided to you by Makoto and Ei along with directions that led you to Sumeru, the nation of Dendro. Sumeru was maintained by three gods, who unfortunately you did not have a pleasure of meeting. That was where you reached your journey's end (or so you thought), deciding the forests of sumeru would be a good place for you to rest.

Living in the rain forest area of Sumeru was fun, peaceful, and perfect for a yaksha such as yourself. You were able to become in tuned with your element, there was no frost or snow that covered and hindered the growth of plants like in mondstadt, there was no electro that hurt you like in Inazuma, and there was no more war and bloodshed unlike in Liyue which greatly reduced mother nature's presence.

You built yourself a hut up one of the more giant trees in the forest, you were able to live off on the rivers and berries there that you could harvest. There were not much people in the area you had made your home in.

What served as your company however were cute little creatures, aranara as they called themselves, and called you Nara Vana. Any humans or remotely human looking individual they had addressed as Nara, however Vana was something you would come to realize meant the forest. It was rather fitting as a dendro in tuned Yaksha.

They regularly visited you, giving you some small tokens like flowers or fruit and in turn you would protect them when you saw they were in danger, spend time with them and help them with anything else. When they had trusted you a great deal, they had introduced to you their Queen, a beautiful woman with white hair, who did not at all look like how you imagined (you thought she would be an Aranara, not a human!)

However all good things would come to an end, their visits dwindled until it stopped entirely, leaving you by your lonesome in your home.

And then there were the rumors, rumors you'd hear from passing humans, travelers making their way out of the region.

There was a sickness in Sumeru, one that greatly affected life. It sapped the energy from the fauna in the forest, turning once verdant green life to withery brown death.

The withering, as people began to call it, a curse that decays life. Once blue waters turned murky, unhealthy for consumption, once strong and bouncy mushrooms you had once jumped on for fun, shriveled into nothing but an empty husk, that should you even try to touch it, would wither to dust.

As a Yaksha aligned with the dendro element, the place that once became your home turned into your own undoing. The withering began to attach itself onto people, a true disease. A disease you could not find a cure to.

So you fled, hoping your conditions would not worsen, you turned back to Liyue. Your mother nation.

But your timing was unfortunate as a cataclysmic event had started upon the continent. The chasm had caved in, destroyed and evacuated. You yourself had to scale the mountains and take a longer detour than necessary up north, it was at Lumberpick Valley did you find the answers you were hoping for.

The Archon of Liyue as well as that of the other nations had left, going to the kingdom of Khaenri'ah for war.

As you looked at the destruction that was brought to the chasm, it made you remember the pains of the Archon war. You who were inflicted with a disease that was currently untreatable, who could you ask for help? certainly not the archon of geo, Morax, for you were once a vassal of one of his enemies, and even then, what could you even offer in exchange?

You did not want to swear your loyalty to a God you do not know, because that was the same as giving them your freedom.

So despite the effects of Eleazar taking its tolls on you, you continued on with your journey. You could not join the city of Liyue, you could not go back to Sumeru as there were still no news of a cure..

Inazuma was far away to travel to, you'd fear your time on the boat would be the final nail to the coffin, and while Mondstadt was more closer, you had found out due to their archon, Barbatos, it was no longer a desolate wasteland of snow and ice, so you set to mondstadt.

Your journey north of Liyue was hard, the disease began eating away at your vitality, dark scales began to grown across your skin, your limbs were no longer strong, sometimes locking up causing you to often trip and injure yourself.

By the time you had come to Wuwang Hill, most of your body had began to shut down, you were crippled and all you could truly use were your arms to pull your body across the dirt.

it was raining harshly that night, the drops of rain lightly hitting your hardened skin, you didn't feel a thing, your body was like stone, hard, devoid of warmth and unfeeling.

you were close to Mondstadt, all you had to do was go through the stone gate.. you hoped Barbatos would be able to treat you. however a landslide had occurred due to the rainfall causing you to fall down a slope, your legs being buried by dirt.

you were tired, so tired and scared, as your eyes began to close due to the fatigue.

you did not want to die.

realizing that you would not be able to reach the nation of freedom, you decided, as a last ditch effort, to put yourself into a deep sleep. Using the last of your powers, you made a flower grow so large it could swallow you whole! and it did, before disappearing underground, only for it to open centuries later when the effects of Eleazar had decreased enough for you to walk again.

🍃 you did not know that Queen Aranyani was the Dendro Archon.

🍃 you have been inflicted with Eleazar during your time in Sumeru, when you put yourself in a coma, it serves to heal and reverse the symptoms, but you will still be inflicted with Eleazar and it will appear again.

🍃 the reason why you'd ask help from Barbatos than from Morax, was because you thought that the archon from the Nation of Freedom would not ask your freedom as compensation for his help.

🍃Reader is very intuned with nature as a dendro element user, and as an illuminated beast from dendro (im just making shit up but shushh) you were more vulnerable to the withering.

🍃 your power is also from nature/dendro, as you were already weak, going on a trip to inazuma, a boat in the middle of water, would have actually killed you since there were no plants to get energy from.

🍃 weapon is up to choice, you can leave suggestions in the comments, the most often weapon type commented will be chosen.

part 2 is a work in progress.

[jenosbliss]

Hey for your requests opening Can you do enemies to lovers female reader x Vampire Yuta, + 11,13,17,19 with ᵃ ˡⁱᵗᵗˡᵉ angst then fluff & smut =)

pairing. siren!reader x vampire!yuta | genre. angst, fluff (a dash of it) | wc. 1.8k | warnings. mentions of blood, tying up with ropes, that's all i guess

summary. there was an ongoing battle for dominance over the forests of Eldoria between the vampires and werewolves, which resulted in you being kidnapped. Yuta came to save but what truth is he hiding from you?

a/n. hii anon! i'm really sorry i couldn't add smut to it :((

“You cannot manipulate me like this,” declared the man as he bound your legs with ropes, a glint of pride in his eyes. The rope cut into your skin, drawing blood, causing you to groan in pain, though the sound was muffled by the cloth in your mouth.

The power of a siren's voice was their strongest weapon, and your current inability to speak left you feeling utterly helpless. The man, unmistakably a werewolf with his thick hair and bright amber eyes, had captured you and gagged you securely to prevent any manipulation.

The ancient struggle for dominance over the forests of Eldoria between werewolves and vampires had raged for centuries, with sirens playing a crucial role in aiding the rulers. The werewolves, eager for power, were willing to go to any lengths, even resorting to kidnapping a siren.

“Touch her, and you're dead.” a voice filled with disdain warned. Yuta, the future leader of the vampires, emerged from the shadows of the forest, his pale skin and emotionless eyes a chilling sight.

“What? You think you can stop me? A mere vampire like you?” the werewolf taunted with a devilish grin. “Don't pretend, Yuta, you desire the same thing. Your leader craves it too!” he growled, baring his sharp fangs.

Terror gripped you at his words. Yuta had never been your protector; in the past, he had often been the cause of life-threatening scenarios you found yourself in. Your attempts to influence him through your voice had always been futile, adding to your frustration.

Your grandmother had once been an ally of the vampires, supporting them, until Yuta's father ascended to the leadership and ordered the eradication of sirens, deeming them a deadly threat to Eldoria's throne.

The sight of Yuta filled you with even greater dread for your safety.

“You are mistaken, my dear lupine companion. We have no intention of harming an innocent siren,” Yuta stated casually, approaching where you were bound. “Coming from a vampire, that doesn't sound convincing,” the werewolf sneered. “Especially considering your history of siren slayings,” he added, advancing towards Yuta. “since their charms don't work on you.”

““None of the matter right now. Our reputations and resistance to their charms,” Yuta smirked, gesturing towards the sky. “What matters is that your pack probably needs you now. It seems there may be trouble, there might be a  little fire in their den.”

Sudden howls reverberated through the forest, causing the werewolf to snarl at Yuta. Through clenched teeth, he vowed, “You will pay for this.” Then, turning to you, he remarked, “He won't come to your rescue,sweetheart... but we shall cross paths again.” With that, he transformed into a wolf and vanished into the trees on all fours.

As he departed, Yuta swiftly made his way towards you, urgently releasing you from your restraints. "Are you alright?" He inquired, taking the cloth ball from your mouth. "Stay away from me!" You cried out, causing the trees nearby to sway vigorously as if caught in a storm, yet Yuta appeared unaffected by it.

"I can save you." He exhaled a small sigh as he moved closer to you. "Do not believe his words. I am here to protect you, Y/N."

You scoffed at his promise to protect you. "How could I trust you? When your father sought only to harm my people? Do you think I'm a fool?"

"No, I understand his actions were wrong and I can never erase the pain he caused you, but please, Y/N, I swear things have changed."

"Then how are things now? Huh? Are you pretending to be my savior, manipulating me into believing your facade?" You stepped back, widening the gap between you. "We need you... I- I need you," he admitted with a touch of resignation in his voice.

"What?" You halted, gazing at him with wounded eyes. "I love you. I know it may be hard to believe, but I do. You may see me as a threat, but trust me, I have always tried to save you in some way."

His words prompted you to recall those moments when you found yourself on the brink of death. Amidst the recent feud between the two factions, you always assumed he was out to end your life, but perhaps it was quite the opposite.

"I have endeavored to save you because I love you. I know I should not harbor these feelings for you, but I cannot resist! Please let me save you," he implored, drawing nearer and tenderly cupping your face in his hand.

"Do you trust me?" He murmured softly, peering into your eyes. For the first time, you detected a glimmer of something in his lifeless eyes... a glimmer of love and resolve. You desired to flee and shun him, to despise him, yet a voice within you responded, "Yes, I trust you, Yuta."

He grinned, pulling you in a warm embrace as he whispered, "I will fight anything and anyone for you... for us." He pulled back slightly and placed a gentle kiss on your forehead. “Always believe in me, never let go of that trust.”

Hesitantly, you nodded, feeling a deep sense of truth and passion in his gaze. Leaning towards you, he pressed his lips to yours softly, his gentle touch caressing your cheek as he drew you closer with his other hand.

Bathed in the gentle moonlight, both of you shared a tender kiss beneath the towering trees. Embracing Yuta meant challenging the age-old regulations set by your forefathers - a siren was never to love a vampire. Their relationship was meant to be purely political, but his proximity and protective nature made you yearn to defy your own kind.

Yet, to Yuta, it was all a charade, a mask he wore to trap you in his desires to  fulfill his father's mission - the eradication of sirens. He had no intention of harming you, only of weakening your community by turning you into a traitor, ultimately leading to their downfall.

He was not a savior, but a harbinger of destruction.

masterlist. nct dream | nct 127 | wayv

100 follower event 🌷

navigation.

[whatsthethinking]

A Father's Promise

In which Jake gets a harsh reminder that he’s raising sons, not soldiers.

▹Word count: 3.9k

▹Warning: Angst?? Neteyam’s had enough, my boy is tired and he’s acting completely out of character. Mentions of illness and injury, Neteyam says fuck once. Jake feeling guilty.

▹Note: Barely proofread, I wrote this in one go (kinda). Anything in italics is English. No y/n, this is about Sully family dynamics.

Neteyam had never pictured himself in this situation, walking through the forest with only his hunting knife as protection. If any creature was looking for a late-night snack, Neteyam was practically offering himself up but he didn’t care. His head was throbbing, he felt hot, his skin felt clammy and sweat gathering on his hairline. Neteyam let out a shaky breath as he pushed a low-hanging branch from his path. He started to think about how the day progressed which led him to walking aimlessly through the thick forest. Eclipse had come and gone, his only source of light was the glowing plants around him. He had no idea where he was going but turning back and going home wasn’t an option right now, no matter how sick he felt.

– 

Neteyam’s day started somewhat normally. He woke up with Tuk tucked under his arm, he visited his grandmother who had given him something for his slowly growing headache. His grandmother advised him to have an easy day, to not strain himself and get some rest, so that’s what he was going to do. Kind of. 

He returned to his family’s tent and tried to get some more sleep which was proving to now be successful since the smallest noise would make his eyes shoot open, so where was he going to get peace and quiet?

The sky.

So that’s where he went, he saddled his ikran and slowly ascended making sure to stay level and just above the trees. He was having a peaceful flight, taking in the sights, and seeing the different animals making their way through the forest in their families. He saw members of the clan hunting and foraging for food.

The more he flew, the more tired he felt so he decided that it was time for him to head back. Circling back, Neteyam was fighting to keep his eyes open, every blink becoming slower than the one before.

In the distance, Neteyam heard a faint scream but he ignored it, telling himself it was probably some kids playing around. Until he heard it again, much closer.

“Help me!”

Tuk?

Forcing his ikran to dive through the trees, he followed the sounds of his sister's cries for help. 

Once landing high enough in the trees, Neteyam dismounted his companion in his usual manner but his legs shook causing him to almost fall over. He quickly steadied himself, grabbed his bow and ran toward where Tuk was screaming.

He soon spotted his sister gripping onto vines as viperwolves circled below her, waiting for her to fall. Neteyam tried to steady himself as ran across a thick, winding branch. His swift movements grabbed Tuk’s attention almost immediately. 

“Neteyam!” She yelled in relief seeing him getting closer. Neteyam managed to reach his sister just as one of her hands slipped. Breathing heavily, Neteyam pulled Tuk up and onto her feet. Tuk instantly wrapped her arms around his waist in gratitude. Neteyam ran his hand over the back of her head to try and soothe her.

“I tried catching up with Lo’ak but he was going too fast. I wanted to call him but then they started chasing me.”

“Lo’ak was here?” Neteyam questioned her in disbelief. He knew the two siblings had their differences but Lo’ak wouldn’t just leave her to fend for herself.

“No…” Tuk stepped back slightly, her head down looking guilty. “He doesn’t know I followed him.”

With the added commotion, the viperwolves became more alert. Now snarling, the viperwolves started to creep up the base of a neighbouring tree slowly.

Neteyam urged Tuk to run ahead of him back to his ikran. He managed to draw his bow and shoot one of the viperwolves which managed to slow the pack down for a millisecond before they all lunged forward, snapping at the young warrior, barely missing him. The more the pair ran, Neteyam felt himself getting light-headed from all of the adrenaline rushing through his veins. Clumsily, he assisted Tuk over a fallen tree trunk before raising his hand to his throat.

“Mum! Dad! Anyone! I need help! I’m with Tuk and-”

A viperwolf swiped at his feet again, which caused Neteyam to stumble and it sent him and Tuk falling off the tree branch. Neteyam wrapped his arms around his sister to cushion her fall as they hit the ground. The impact knocked the wind out of him for a brief moment.

Tuk scrambled up, trying to pull Neteyam up with her.

“Neteyam! Come on! They’ll find us!”

Neteyam groaned, nodding his head. He slowly stood up, making sure he had his bow. He screwed his eyes shut as his vision momentarily blurred

A lone viperwolf crept forward, trying to sneak up on the pair, Tuk screamed as the viperwolf leapt forward swiping at her, Neteyam swung his bow knocking it away and fired an arrow, killing it instantly.

He spun around as he heard a sob behind him. Tuk stood there with her ears flat against her head and lips in a pout as she held onto her upper arm,  blood seeping through her fingers.

For the first time in his life, the sight of blood made him feel nauseous.

“Hey, hey. It’s okay,” he tried to reassure her, “you’ll be okay.”

Tuk nodded along to her brother's words, looking down at her arm.

“Neteyam?!” Neytiri’s voice cut through the air.

“Mama!” Tuk cried.

Soon after, Neytiri broke through the trees, a panicked look on her face. Jake a second behind.

Neteyam slumped against a tree, finally able to catch his breath.

–

As the family made their way back through the camp, Neteyam could practically see the smoke billowing out of his father’s ears. Neytiri broke away, taking Tuk to the healer’s tent.

When he entered the tent, he spotted Lo’ak standing in the corner, his eyes trained on the group. Immediately telling him that his younger brother had already gotten his scolding.

“Dismissed,” Jake said gruffly, glancing at him quickly.

Lo’ak looked at his brother, a worried look on his face. Neteyam nodded tiredly, telling Lo’ak that it was okay to leave. Lo’ak nodded back before he slowly walked past him, consistently turning back before leaving fully. Neteyam closed his eyes and took a deep breath in preparation for whatever his father was going to say. He felt himself slowly sway to the side. If Jake noticed, he didn’t point it out.

“What the hell happened out there?” Jake questioned, his voice firm.

“I don’t know,” Neteyam whispered.

“You don’t… Know?” Jake asked somewhat sceptically. Neteyam not knowing is practically unheard of.

All Neteyam could do was shake his head while wincing,

“How did this happen?”

“I don’t know,” Neteyam whispered again, his voice firmer.

“How do you not know? What are you saying? You don’t know how Tuk got out there? You were with her Neteyam.” 

“I know but I only know what Tuk told me,” Neteyam mumbled

“Which was?” 

“She was following Lo’ak without his knowledge and then lost him.”

“So how did she manage to get hurt? She said it got her and then you killed it. How did you not see it coming?”

“I don’t know.”

“Is that all you can say? ‘I don’t know’?”

Neither spoke, leaving a lingering silence between them. Jake stepped forward, with his hands on his hips.

“Neteyam. What the hell is going on with you?” Jake started, his voice slightly raising but Neteyam struggled to focus on his father’s lecture, every word felt like it was continuously striking a raw nerve.

“As the older brother, it’s your job to-”

“Why?” Neteyam questioned, cutting his father off, irritation clear in his voice.

“What?” Jake questioned, his voice quieting in confusion. Neteyam had never spoken back or interrupted during a lecture.

“Why is it my job?”

“You’re the older brother and I expect-”

“So being the firstborn means that it’s my job to watch my siblings all the time? If I’m not training that is.” Neteyam rolled his eyes which took Jake by surprise. “That’s not fair, they’re not my children. They’re yours.”

“Netey-.”

“No!” Neteyam exclaimed, “Why is it my job? I am their brother, not their babysitter. Every time they fuck up, why is it my fault? They’re their own people. Lo’ak makes his own decisions trying to match your expectations and Tuk is too damn curious. That’s not my fault! I try so hard and yet it’s my fault?!” 

By now, Neteyam's voice had gotten louder. Jake didn’t know how to react. He had never seen this side of his eldest. He noted the way Neteyam used the palm of his hand to massage his forehead before he paced back and forth a few times. This behaviour is completely foreign, all Jake could do was watch.

Neteyam stopped pacing, facing his father again, wringing his hands together.

“It is not my fault that Tuk followed Lo’ak! It is not my fault that Lo’ak didn’t see her! It is not my fault that she was hurt! I tried my best! She got herself into trouble, she knew the danger and yet she went anyway. It’s not my fault and it’s not Lo’ak’s. It’s Tuk’s! Why not give her the speech on being responsible?!”

By now, Neteyam was waving his hands around wildly. If this was any other time, Neteyam wouldn’t even imagine pushing all the blame on his youngest sister but right now he was fed up. He was tired of getting the blame any time his siblings got themselves into trouble. He just wanted a day to himself but he couldn’t even have that.

“I know, I understand.” Jake said in the softest voice he could muster, “But I need you to take a deep breath and calm down.” 

But his father’s words went over his head, he couldn’t calm down. It was like a flip had switched in his brain and all of his emotions were flooding to the surface.

“Why didn’t you notice that she was no longer in your sight? Huh?! Why can’t you take some blame? I am so sick and tired of taking the blame. I’m tired of getting blamed for every time they mess up. I’m tired of trying to be perfect. I’m tired of trying to reach your impossible standards. Why do I always have to be perfect in your eyes? Why can’t I ever make a mistake? Once. Just once, I wish you would act like an actual father and not just the clan leader. I am your son, not one of your soldiers.”

Neteyam stopped abruptly, facing his father with tears welling in his eyes, “I just want you to see me!”

An awkward atmosphere fell between them, all that could be heard was Neteyam’s heavy breaths. Jake opened his mouth before closing it quickly. Not sure how to react. As he stepped forward to try again, Neytiri marched into the tent, confusion spread across her face.

“Do you want the whole clan to hear you two? What is going on?”

Looking between his parents, Neteyam wiped his eyes angrily, slipping out of the tent. Once he was outside, he started marching towards the forest, on his way, he passed Lo’ak and Kiri but ignored their calls for him. Just as he was to step into the foliage, his father’s voice crackled through his earpiece, demanding he return. With one swift movement, Neteyam ripped off his microphone and took out his earpiece, throwing them both to the floor, not caring where they landed. 

–

The more he walked, the more guilt he felt about his outburst, he had never spoken like that to anyone and he shocked himself by speaking that way to his father, someone he looked up to. Neteyam tried to think of anything and everything to keep his mind off of his throbbing head and the sadness in his chest but nothing seemed to be working. All he felt was guilt.

Coming to an empty clearing, Neteyam looked around him with squinted eyes. Not sure where he was, which was another first for him today. As he stood there, watching the space, his body began to feel heavy.

He swayed slightly, stumbling to stable himself against a nearby tree but he misjudged it, which sent him plummeting to the floor. Closing his eyes, Neteyam felt too exhausted to try and get up.

—

Jake didn’t hesitate to follow after his son but was stopped by Neytiri demanding answers as to why her son was upset. Jake tried to rush his explanation.

“Ma Jake, you need to stop being so hard on him. He’s trying.”

“I know, I know. I’ll get him back. I promise.”

Jake kissed Neytiri’s head, rushing out of the tent in the direction Neteyam went.

Jake walked carefully, tracking Neteyam’s footsteps which wasn’t too hard since after a while, his light footprints turned into deep drag marks.

The deeper he got into the forest, the more worried Jake got. Just watching his outburst concerned him, he had never behaved that way before, none of his kids have. On top of that, from the moment he and Tuk were found in the forest, Jake noticed the way Neteyam tried to support himself on the tree and the way he walked back to the tent like he was not confident on his feet. The way he swayed, the way sweat was gathering on his brow the more upset he got. It was clear that Neyetam was sick and that worried Jake even more.

From what Jake had experienced, the Na’vi rarely got sick. Sickness is mainly seen in young children or in the elders. Jake felt the guilt piling up, he was starting to think that whatever was wrong with Neteyam was from his side. His human side. It was this human side that he knew he had to tap into to sympathise? Empathise? With his son. He had to strip back the many hardened layers that had built up while on Pandora. Strip back his title of being Olo'eyktan, Toruk Makto or being a marine. He had to be the person before that. The caring boy from Earth who felt deeply for others.

“Shit.”

Jake had lost Neteyam’s trail. Had he taken a wrong turn? He stepped into the clearing, eyebrows furrowed. Should he turn back and try again? Looking off to the side, deciding where to go next. Jake spotted a crumpled heap at the base of a tree. Neteyam?

Jake slowly walked over, gripping his tomahawk tightly in his hand, the last thing he wanted to do was sneak up on a sleeping viperwolf or young ​​thanator. 

Jake’s heart started to beat faster once his brain registered that the heap on the ground was not one of Pandora’s predators but his son. He slowly rolled Neteyam onto his back, noting that the boy felt like dead weight, his body not resisting the movement. He could feel Neteyam’s clammy skin under his hands and his breathing was shallow. Jake’s hands frantically hovered over Neteyam’s body, wondering what to do.

“Neteyam?” No response.

Raising a shaky hand to his throat, Jake waited for a crackle in his earpiece. He first got through to Neytiri, explaining Neteyam’s condition to her. At first, Neytiri refused Jake’s suggestion of getting medics at the lab, adamant that Mo’at could cure him but after Jake explained his concerns, Neytiri reluctantly agreed. 

Jake cradled the side of Neteyam’s head once the boy began to respond to his name, trying to get his attention but the boy's eyes were unfocused.

With some difficulty, Jake managed to manoeuvre Neteyam onto his back. Making sure his son’s arms were secure over his shoulders and that Jake’s arms were secure under Neteyam’s knees.

—

Jake dabbed the lukewarm cloth across Neteyam’s forehead, down to his neck. Glancing to the side and out the small window, Jake could see the sun beginning to peek out from behind the high trees. He had been with Neteyam all night, not leaving his side for a second. Jake put the cloth back into the bowl before leaning forward, resting his elbows on his knees. His knee began to bounce anxiously. Jake’s head dropped with a deep sigh thinking back to his conversation with Max. 

“These symptoms Jake, they’re quite serious.”

“Do you know what is it? What caused it?”

“From what I can see, his symptoms are showing me that it could be hypoglycaemia, but I’m not sure if Na’vi can get it. I won’t be sure until Neteyam wakes up and tells me how he’s feeling. But whatever this is, must’ve been brewing for a while for it to get to this point. Has he been acting out of character for the past few days? Off his food or hungrier than usual?”

Neytiri gripped her mate's arm anxiously as Jake combed through his memory to see if he could pinpoint anything different about Neteyam’s daily habits. 

“Last night he was tossing and turning in his sleep for a while and he skipped breakfast,” Neytiri started, “my mother told me he visited her, complaining that his head was hurting.”

Max nodded, noting down what he heard. Jake thought back to the day before. He had taken his sons out for target practice. Jake had noted almost immediately that when Neteyam was drawing his bow, his arm was shaking slightly but that wasn’t stopping him from hitting his target. But Jake did take a mental note of it. Jake told this to Max, a solemn expression on his face. “He picked at his dinner last night and barely ate anything.”

How could this happen?

—

Max and Norm had come in to check on Neteyam as the day went on. Max had set up a drip for the teen since he had noticed that he was rather dehydrated. They had brought food for Jake but he couldn’t bring himself to eat. Kiri, Lo’ak and little Tuk had joined Neytiri in the afternoon to check on Neteyam. Tuk had been blaming herself for what had happened, no matter how much everyone around her told it wasn’t. Lo’ak had heard his brother's outburst and felt very apologetic for all the times Neteyam had taken the blame for his antics. Making a note to apologise to him as soon as he was able to leave the lab. Kiri felt so sorry for her older brother. Growing up, Neteyam had taken on so much responsibility when he didn’t have to and it broke her heart to know that all the pressure may have contributed to his illness.

—

The sun was slowly setting and the lab was growing quiet as the scientists made their way to the small cafeteria to have dinner. Neteyam’s state hadn’t changed and Jake was becoming increasingly concerned.

Letting out a sigh of defeat, Jake lazily leaned towards the small table where the plate of food had sat all day. He smiled a little bit at the sandwich that Norm had crafted. Just as he was going to take a bite. He heard shuffling beside him. Dropping the sandwich back on the plate, Jake watched as Neteyam slowly eyes fluttered open, squinting at the light above him. Jake felt his breath hitch as Neteyam’s head fell to the side and they made eye contact.

Bending down to his level, Jake brushed his hand on the top of his son’s hair.

“Dad?” Neteyam questioned, his voice groggy, trying to sit up. “What happened?”

“Sh sh sh, stay still for me, okay?”

Neteyam nodded, releasing a shaky breath and closing his eyes again.

—

Jake notified the rest of his family of Neteyam waking up. They immediately rushed over, showering the boy with love which Neteyam received with tired smiles. Neytiri had gotten him to eat something small, and the drip was removed. Soon after it was clear that Neteyam was ready to sleep. 

“Dad, can you stay?”

Jake looked at Neytiri briefly before nodding, “Yeah, yeah, of course.”

Neytiri kissed her eldest son’s head before ushering the rest of her family out of the room and out of the lab. Jake sat back in the chair next to Neteyam’s bed. The pair sat in silence for a few minutes, Neteyam shuffling uncomfortably before he spoke.

“I’m sorry.” Neteyam’s voice wavers, “I shouldn’t have spoken to you that way.”

“No, no. You do not have to be sorry, okay?” Jake reassured, leaning forward

“I was rude,” Neteyam stated, looking at his father briefly before he looked down at his fists resting on his lap. 

Jake’s heart clenched, not sure what to say. Not sure where to start. I paused trying to gather his thoughts. He reached forward, taking Neteyam’s hands in his.

“Neteyam.” He sighed, “I am so, so, sorry.” 

Even though he has spent 16 years on Pandora. Learning and speaking the language. Jake was not sure he had enough vocabulary to express himself clearly.

“You never have to apologise for how you feel.” Neteyam’s ears twitched at the language change. “I don’t even know where to start. I am just so sorry, and I am a fool for not realising this sooner. It was never, ever, my intention to make you feel the way you have been and I feel like shit knowing that I have caused you pain and sadness. In terms of Tuk, that was not your fault at all. I understand that you tried your best and it was mine and your mother’s fault that we didn’t notice she wasn’t in the camp. It was a coincidence that you were flying overhead, who knows what would’ve happened if you weren't there. You were right. Yes, you’re my eldest child. Their brother. It is not your responsibility to watch out for them consistently."

Jake moved forward in his seat, getting closer to his son as he continued to say whatever came to mind, hoping it would make sense.

“You were also right in saying that I should be acting like your father, not the leader of this clan. I need to separate the two and I will. I promise you. It is wrong of me to expect you to live up to the expectations I pushed onto you due to my own fears. I have been so harsh on you without considering your feelings. I don’t know when things changed. When I started to see you guys as squad members. I have been so focused on pointing out what was ‘wrong’, that I never praised you in the way you kids deserved. I’ve never let you make your own mistakes without being lectured.”

Jake sighed, running a hand over the side of his face.

“I know that just saying this won’t change anything but I will take steps in the right direction to prove that there will be a change. That I will change. For you and your brother. I want you to know that I am so proud of you, Neteyam. I will always be proud of you. No matter what. And I do see you. I have always seen you. I see you so clearly.”

Neteyam bit his lip, nodding and looking down as the corner of his eyes began to burn with tears. Jake leaned forward, pulling his son into a tight hug. Neteyam buried his head into his father’s shoulder as the tears began to fall. Jake smiled, the corners of his mouth as tears began to well up in his eyes.

The door to Neteyam’s temporary room slid open, causing the hug to end, Lo’ak’s head peeking around the corner. Jake smiled softly, motioning him to enter the room. He cautiously walked in, pretending he wasn’t outside eavesdropping the whole time. Neteyam patted a place on the bed. Lo’ak sat down stiffly. 

Jake took a hand in his, giving it a squeeze causing Lo’ak to look down shyly. 

Things will be different. 

Note: When I started writing this, I was just throwing symptom after symptom at Neteyam, just thinking of things that may seem unusual to the Na’vi population but humans may be familiar with. My medical knowledge goes as far as my mum’s nursing books. Out of curiosity, I did Google these symptoms and I was given hypoglycaemia (low blood sugar). Obviously this isn’t an accurate representation of hypoglycaemia and it was not intentional.

[criticallyinneedofadar]

Alliance of Shadows (12)

A/N: This is it babes... the final chapter. I do have an epilouge planned that is definitely... rated R for raunchy. For now though, enjoy!

Pairing: Adar x Reader

Warnings: None

Taglist: @annatartastic @oakenshielq @perse-cora @eowyn7023 @passionofthesith @zoya-olenko

Word Count: 3.2 K

Previous- Next

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The mountain range ahead loomed vast and ancient, its peaks dusted with snow even in the warmer months. The mages had long called this place home, hidden in their solitude, away from the world that often looked at them with distrust. Now, as you and Adar led the Uruks and your people toward the imposing peaks you couldn’t help but feel the weight of the journey ahead—not just the trek through rugged terrain, but the merging of two vastly different peoples.

“Ered Sûr,” you murmur to Adar beside you, “The Mountains of Silence.” 

The Uruks, stoic as always, walk with purpose. Their dark eyes sweep the horizon, ever wary of danger. Though the threat of Sauron has been sealed away, they carry with them a wariness, as if expecting some new battle at any moment. Behind them, the mages move with quiet grace, their robes flowing in the wind. Though both groups had fought side by side, it is clear that old habits of distrust have not yet fully faded.

As the path begins to ascend, the Uruks raise their heads toward the jagged peaks of Ered Sûr. You catch the gleam in Adar’s eyes—his people have wandered for too long, and now they stand at the threshold of a potential home. The air grows colder as you climb higher, the rocky terrain testing everyone’s endurance, but there is no faltering, no doubt in the steps of either group. This is a necessary journey, and one that holds promise.

Finally, as night begins to fall, the peaks come into full view. The closest summit, which you had planned to offer to the Uruk’s, stood sentinel over the landscape. 

“This is Karn Maug, or the "Red Peak,"" you say to Adar, as you steadily climb. “With any luck, the council will agree that it is perfect for your people.” 

Adar takes in the landscape around him. He nods slowly, “I can see its appeal. Your land is beautiful.” Though you know he is only remarking on the land that will soon be his home, you cannot help the flush on your cheeks at his praise.  

As you descend toward the valley where your council waits, your thoughts churn. Would they understand? Would they accept the Uruks?

The chamber where the council convenes is carved deep into the mountain’s heart. Torches flicker on the walls, casting dancing shadows as you and Adar enter. The council members sit in a half-circle, their faces impassive. Their robes, a shimmering deep blue, mark them as the wisest of your people.

While you regale the council of your journey and your proposition, Adar stands tall beside you, his presence commanding but not hostile. His Uruks wait outside, scattered along the valley as they observe their surroundings, no doubt suspicious of this new environment. The mages, too, watch with silent curiosity, knowing that this meeting would shape the future of their kingdoms.

One of the councilors, an older mage named Erys, leans forward, his piercing gaze fixed on you. “You ask much of us, Your Majesty. These Uruks, they are not our kind. They have lived in the shadows, they have spilled blood. Why should we welcome them into our lands?”

You straighten, allowing the weight of your title to settle in the room for a moment before you speak. “I understand your concerns, Erys. And while it is within my power to make this decision alone, I value your wisdom, your guidance. I have not led us into ruin, nor will I now. Your counsel matters, and I won’t act without hearing your voices.”

Erys frowns, but he gives a nod of acknowledgment. His respect for you remains, even in disagreement. You continue, your heart heavy but your voice firm. “The Uruks have been cast aside by the world, just as we once were. For too long, we’ve shut ourselves away from the world’s struggles, and though we have known peace, it is peace born of avoidance. Now we have an opportunity to do more, to offer a home to those who have been cast out.”

You pause, the words building up inside you like a storm that you could no longer contain. “And I owe them this.”

The room stills. The councilors’ eyes flicker in confusion, waiting for you to explain. You draw in a breath, the weight of your confession pressing down on your chest.

“When we fought Sauron,” you begin, your voice softer now, “I lost control of my magic. In my rage, I sought only to stop him. I didn’t think… I didn’t think about the consequences. In my desperation, I bound him to the volcano in Mordor. I cursed that land, the very place the Uruks had fought to reclaim as their home.”

The councilors exchange uncertain glances, but you press on. “I did this. I destroyed their home with my mistake. And now they have nowhere to go. I feel responsible for giving them a place—a true home. Not just because of my error, but because I’ve seen their strength, their loyalty. They deserve more than to be cast out again.”

The weight of your words hangs in the air. You can feel the tension in the room, the discomfort of the councilors as they absorb what you have admitted.

Another councilor, Mara, speaks up next, her voice carefully measured. “And what if they turn against us, Your Majesty? What if they use that strength to conquer rather than to coexist?”

You meet her gaze, your spine straightening with resolve. “We cannot live in fear of ‘what ifs,’” you say calmly but with conviction. “I am Queen, and if I doubted them, they would not have crossed our borders. But understand this: they have no desire for conquest. I have seen their pain, their yearning for a home. They wish to live, as we do, in peace.”

The council remains silent for a beat, but you can sense their hesitancy. It is then that Adar, who has remained quiet, steps forward. His voice, calm and steady, fills the chamber.

“I will swear fealty to you and your people, if that is what is required. I will pledge my life and the lives of my children to your kingdom’s protection.”

His words take you by surprise. You turn to him, shaking your head. “You owe us nothing, Adar. You and your people have already paid enough. You do not need to bend the knee.”

Adar meets your gaze, his dark eyes unreadable. “It is not about owing, but about peace. I will do what is necessary to ensure that our people can live without fear.”

The council murmurs among themselves, weighing the offer. Erys finally raises his hand for silence, his brow furrowed in deep thought. “Fealty may not be enough to ease the minds of our people. There is a way, though, to ensure unity between us...  A marriage.”

Your heart skips a beat, and for a moment, the entire room seems to close in. You blink, flustered, your mind racing to comprehend the suggestion. “A marriage?”

Mara nods, her eyes observing your reaction carefully. “A marriage between the leaders of our people would serve to quell any doubts of rebellion or uprising. It would symbolize the merging of our kingdoms—both Uruk and mage united by blood and bond.”

You look at Adar, searching his face for some reaction. To your shock, he is smiling, albeit subtly. There is a glimmer of amusement, perhaps even approval, in his eyes. He glances at you, his voice low and filled with a private, secret satisfaction. “It seems… a practical solution.”

Heat rises to your cheeks as you stammer, “I—”

Adar speaks again, his tone now more serious. “We are willing to carve our home into the Red Peak. But if you allow us, we will not be a kingdom separate from yours. Over time, our peoples will come together. We will share the land, share the mountains, our resources. Let us build something lasting.”

Erys sits back, considering. “Very well. Should the Queen approve, the Uruks will begin carving their homes in Karn Maug. In return, their armies will be ours in times of need. And we will help them carve out the stone, with our magic and with our hands.”

Relief floods through you. “It will be done,” you say quietly.

As the meeting concluded, the future now set in motion, you linger beside Adar. His presence is reassuring, grounding you in this moment of monumental change.

“You’re… you’re not opposed to the council’s suggestion?” you ask, still flustered by the mention of marriage.

Adar’s dark eyes gleam as he regards you. “Opposed? No. I am not opposed to being bound to you, not in the least. In life or death, I would never wish to be parted from you.”

His words send a thrill through your chest, and for a moment, the weight of all that has passed seems distant, replaced only by the quiet certainty of his love.

As you and Adar make your way down from the council chamber, a familiar sight greets you—his children, gathered near the valley clearing where the Uruks have set up a temporary camp. Their rugged faces, scarred and hardened by years of battle and struggle, soften the moment they see Adar approach. A murmur runs through them, and soon, every eye is fixed on him, anticipation hanging thick in the air.

Adar pauses before them, casting a long glance over the gathering of his people, his family. He has always been a pillar of strength, but today, there is something different in his posture, something that makes the air hum with expectation.

Finally, he speaks, his deep voice carrying across the clearing. “My children,” he begins, and the murmurs quiet immediately. “We have traveled far. We have fought harder than anyone could have imagined. And today, I bring news of hope.”

The Uruks lean forward, listening intently. You stand by Adar’s side, watching as their eyes light with the faintest spark of hope—something that has been a rarity in their lives.

“The Red Peak will be our new home,” Adar continues, his voice steady and filled with quiet pride. “The mountains have welcomed us, and we shall carve out a kingdom here. No longer will we wander the shadows, cast aside by the world. This land will be ours.”

For a moment, there is silence, the weight of his words sinking in. Then, like the breaking of a dam, a cheer erupts from the Uruks. The roar of celebration is fierce, filled with the raw emotion of a people who have been denied a home for so long. The ground seems to tremble beneath the force of their joy, and you feel the warmth of it settle deep in your chest.

Adar’s children rush forward, some clapping him on the back, others raising their weapons in triumph. The sense of unity, of shared victory, is palpable. The Uruks, so often seen as brutal and cold, now stand together in a moment of pure celebration.

You step forward, raising your hand to quiet them, though your heart swells with the same sense of relief and hope. “For now, make camp in this valley,” you say, your voice carrying over the crowd. “But soon, we will begin building homes. Permanent homes. It will take time, but know this—you are safe. You are protected within these mountains. If there is anything you require, please find one of my people. We know the pain of rebuilding. We will provide what you need. Be welcome, children of Adar, and know peace.”

A second, louder cheer erupts, so fierce and full of life that it seems to echo through the peaks around you. The Uruks raise their fists in the air, their voices merging with the wind, a chorus of triumph and gratitude. Even the mages among them, initially cautious of this alliance, are swept up in the infectious energy, their faces softening as they join in the cheers.

Adar turns to you, his dark eyes filled with something akin to pride. You have both fought for this—together. And now, standing in the midst of your united peoples, you know that the road ahead, though still fraught with challenges, would be walked side by side.

As the night stretches on, the valley becomes a place of celebration. Fires are lit, food is shared, and laughter—a rare, beautiful sound—rings out among the Uruks and mages alike. It is the beginning of something new, something stronger than either people have ever known.

Adar leans in close, his voice just loud enough for you to hear amidst the celebrations. “They cheer for us now. But it is you who gave them this hope.”

You shake your head slightly, smiling. “It was you Adar, you have done well by your children.”

A single tear slides down his cheek. You gasp as he gives you a rare full smile. It changes his face, making him appear younger, lighter, and even more beautiful. You cannot help the smile that stretches across your lips in return.

—--

After the night’s celebration, you retreat to your chambers, longing for quiet, though the silence feels foreign after so many weeks spent among the chaotic, lively Uruks. The vast room, with its high ceilings and sweeping drapery, feels too large, too empty. Every footstep echoes in the stillness, and the luxury of the space suddenly feels overwhelming. You dismiss your handmaidens, assuring them that you need time for contemplation, though as soon as the door shuts, the weight of solitude presses down upon you.

You sit at your writing desk, staring at the blank page before you, but your mind refuses to settle. Without Adar’s steady presence, without the constant hum of voices around you, the quiet gnaws at your thoughts. Your heart aches with a strange, unfamiliar emptiness, one that pulls you toward the one person who has anchored you in this tumultuous time.

Finally, unable to bear it any longer, you rise and move to the door. You grasp the handle and pull the door open wide, and there stands Adar, his silhouette bathed in the soft light of the hallway.

“I was coming to see if there were any extra blankets,” he says, his voice low and familiar. “Some of the young ones—” he pauses, hesitating for just a moment before continuing, “they’re not used to the cold here.”

You blink in surprise, relief flooding through you at the sight of him. “Adar, you could have sent anyone,” you say, though there’s no edge to your words, only affection. “One of your people, or even one of my guards—they would’ve gladly provided whatever was needed.”

His lips curve into the faintest of smiles. “Perhaps,” he admits. 

The simplicity of his confession sends a warmth through you, and without another word, you turn to the guard outside your door. “Fetch more blankets for the young ones,” you instruct gently. “Distribute them to those who need them.”

The guard nods, disappearing down the corridor. As soon as the guard vanishes, you turn back to Adar, your heart thudding a little faster now that you’re alone with him.

“Come inside,” you say, stepping back to let him enter.

He moves into the room, his dark eyes quietly taking in his surroundings. You walk ahead of him, showing him the front room where your writing desk and library reside, the shelves lined with scrolls and books of ancient knowledge. You pass by the door to your bathing chamber, the lingering scent of herbs and oils filling the air. Finally, you lead him to your bedroom.

You hesitate there, both of your gazes drawn to the large bed in the center of the room, its sheets pulled tight and pristine. The tension between you, already simmering beneath the surface, spikes. It occurs to you that this is the first time since your meeting that you are truly alone, no armies outside demanding your attention, no fights on the horizon, and no duties calling your names for the rest of the night. Your heart races, and for a moment, neither of you speaks, the air thick with unspoken words and unsaid desires.

Desperate to break the tension, you turn abruptly and lead him toward the balcony doors, pushing them open to reveal the vast terrace that overlooks the mountain range. The cool night air greets you both, carrying with it the scent of pine and stone. Above you, the stars stretch out like an endless sea of glittering lights, brilliant and bright against the dark sky.

Adar steps onto the balcony beside you, his gaze drawn upward. His breath catches, and you see something in his expression that you’ve never seen before—wonder, pure and unguarded.

“The stars,” he murmurs, almost to himself.

You watch him closely, the way his eyes shine with awe, as if he’s seeing them for the first time.

“When I was very young,” he begins, his voice low and steady, “my mother used to hold me in her arms on nights like this. She would point up at the stars and tell me stories of the Valar—how they shaped the world and guided the fate of all who lived within it. She said that the stars were the light of the Valar’s love, watching over us, even in the darkest times.”

You listen intently, your heart swelling at the image of him as a small child, cradled by a mother who, despite the world’s harshness, still found a way to pass on stories of hope and wonder.

“She would say that the stars were our ancestors, shining down to remind us that we were never truly alone,” he continues, his voice softer now. “Even when everything seemed lost, there was always light to guide us—if only we had the strength to look up.”

He takes a deep breath, his expression both wistful and sorrowful. “As I grew older, those stories faded. My mother died when I was still very young. After that… the world became harsher, crueler. There was no time for stories, no time for the stars.”

His voice softens, a shadow passing over his face. “During my time with Sauron, I lost hope in them. I stopped looking up. I had no time for them while freeing my children.”

He falls silent for a long moment, his eyes still fixed on the sky. “Now,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper, “I can’t remember the last time I saw them this clearly.”

His words hit you like a weight, and a lump rises in your throat. You take a step toward him, closing the distance between you. “Adar…” you whisper, your voice thick with emotion.

Gently, you reach for him, pulling him into your arms. His body tenses for just a moment before he relaxes into the embrace, his forehead resting against yours. The silence between you is filled with the soft rustling of leaves in the wind, the distant murmur of the mountains.

“We will bask in their light together,” you promise, your voice steady. “And in the joy of your children. You are free now, Adar. We are free.”

Tears prick at your eyes as you press a soft kiss to his lips, the weight of everything you’ve both endured and survived pouring into the moment. He returns the kiss gently, his hands coming to rest on your waist, grounding you both in the here and now.

When you finally pull back, his gaze is locked on yours, filled with the same awe he had for the stars moments before. There is a quiet peace between you now, the tension gone, replaced with something deeper, something unshakable.

“Together,” he whispers, his voice a vow.

[orenji-iro-no-sora]

Thoughts on TGCF Vol 2

Vol 1 | Vol 2| Vol 3| Vol 4| Vol 5| Vol 6| Vol 7| Vol 8

*Spoilers*

Firstly, the pace of the books has been just right. I could feel the tension rising gradually. After an almost light hearted investigation in the first book, this one definitely got more and more thrilling (and serious) but it didn't feel sudden at all.

Eming and good times in the Ghost City

I'd say one of my favourite parts of the second volume were the Hualian moments in the Ghost City. It was definitely the calm before the storm though. I could feel my heart racing when Hua Cheng appeared from the curtain. How did the author add so much tension when all they were doing was shaking a dice cup, I don't know!

Eming, the scimitar that could destroy heavenly officials, is childlike and sweet. I imagined it would be fierce because Jun Wu warned against it, but MXTX used it to show how different Hua Cheng is from what people think of him.

I theorised that maybe with Hua Cheng missing an eye, it probably belonged to the scimitar and Eming possessed his child spirit and could express emotions that Hua Cheng repressed. But that's just a theory and probably wrong considering that the spiritual instruments of MDZS all had a life and personality of their own so it's not possible for Eming to somehow have a part of Hua Cheng in it. Also in Arc 2, only one of his eyes was visible, so maybe he was blind from the start. I think this will be revealed later on.

Powerless Gods

With more insight into Ling Wen and her inability to get devotees despite being one of the hardest workers in the realm, and the Wind Master having to take up a female role, even the Gods are not spared from sexism, prejudices, and gender expectations. It's obvious considering their worshippers are humans who have been conditioned by society, and like Xie Lian says: "Who cared whether you were a god or a ghost? You were whatever people believed you to be."

At the end of the day, for Gods, worshippers carry the most power. While devotees fear the Heavens, they are the source of the official's "merits". Xie Lian was right to question the power dynamics between immortals and worshippers. Officials are helpless in how people perceive them (like Feng Xin lol), and they're powerless when it comes to mortal matters. They can't interfere and they can't influence.

And this truth, I believe, is one of the biggest sources of conflict for Xie Lian. He understands better than anyone that he's powerless (and yet powerful) which is why he fears disappointing others and doing the wrong thing (as he has already gone through it all in the past) and which is also why ascending for him, in my opinion, is a curse. He believed that by walking the path of the cultivator, he could become the saviour of his people. That his determination and goodwill could and would lead to eternal peace.

But in reality, there's no point to his ascension. The world carries its own fate and he can't change destiny. He's even more restricted in what he can do as he's no longer a mortal. While insults and harsh words can't stop him, as I believe Xie Lian has always been very confident in his virtue, I think they hurt just the same because he couldn't live up to his own convictions and they're a constant reminder of his shameful past.

Both Xie Lian and Hua Cheng aren't what they are rumoured to be. The kind of people they are, and how they have been perceived by others do not align. But that's pretty much the case for all characters. In reality too, people always see what they want to see.

However what's interesting is that Xie Lian and Hua Cheng have been imagined to the opposite extremes of the spectrum. To Lang Qianqiu, Xie Lian was a saint. (I'd admit that when he asked Qianqiu to not venerate him, I realised I had done the same.) To others, he was a failure and Hua Cheng was the devil. But both of them were more than that.

Xie Lian's frustration: the injustices despite kindness

In this sense, they both were their truest versions with each other. Which is why, when Xie Lian, finally, finally expressed his frustration and anger, it was to Hua Cheng.

Throughout vol 1, I was waiting for Xie Lian to express some irritation or anger or something that wasn't gentle acceptance. If he had fought Jun Wu after his ascension, he must have been pissed. And there's so much in his life that was unjust that there's no way he wouldn't be. Maybe 800 years is enough to get over it, I said to myself, but there must be days when it hits him. Every step he took, he took to save the common people but saving the people didn't coincide with doing the right thing.

For me, the most important part of the second book was when Xie Lian talked about the injustice of the Guilded Banquet. "He simply felt deeply wronged. He’d acted with such benevolence, but he didn’t receive equivalent kindness in return... I just don’t think it’s right for someone to have been kind but still meet a bad end. I don’t think it should have ended up this way."

Truer words have not been said!! I think one of the hardest aspects of doing the right thing, the kind thing, being morally and ethically inclined is that in this world, benevolence is rarely reciprocated. And I needed Xie Lian to say it. And he did. And I was glad that he admitted to it all.

Because despite knowing that kindness will not guarantee paradise, it may even lead to chaos, to him (and to me), it's still the right thing to do. That's why he wanted Qianqiu to continue being kind, even when the consequences were nonsense. That's why he'd take the blame and bear the responsibility.

Flowers and Butterflies, the cyclical nature of Hualian's fate

Finally, I really wanted to talk about Hualian and their intertwined fate. When Xie Lian saved Hua Cheng during the procession, he appeared like a white ethereal butterfly. And later when Hua Cheng rescues him, he uses his butterflies (deadly to others but gentle to xie lian) to break into Heaven. 'Hua' means flower is what Xie Lian saves at first and what becomes a symbol of his gentleness. And then later, Hua Cheng is the one who sought flowers and protected Xie Lian.

Also Hua Cheng is said to bring misfortune to all those around him and Xie Lian is the darling of the Heavenly Emperor. But he ends up believing that he's unlucky and causes harm to everyone near him and isolates himself while Hua Cheng always says that he's the luckiest.

In a way, their fates have been reversed. But also, they directly or indirectly brought fortune/misfortune in each other's life. Maybe it can be said that Xie Lian's ascension, which I think was his misfortune, was a result of Hua Cheng's star of solitude. Maybe Hua Cheng's power is Xie Lian's blessings. Or maybe everything has been fated and destined to happen exactly as it happened. Either way, I think it's neat.

[mdzs-fics]

Tales from the Burial Mounds, part 2

Since last I wrote about the collection titled Tales from the Burial Mounds, another 19 works and 13 Bookmarks have been added.

Here is another sampling of stories in this Collection.

Every Mother's Son by Chrononautical

Post canon, Madame Lan lives 2 chapters 12k words

“I have heard of the famous Lan Clan, of course,” said Taro, wholly unaware that a woman so intimately connected with that horrid family sat within four tatami of him. “That one of them should ascend to Chief Cultivator is news indeed, though perhaps less surprising to you than me. From this distant view, my impression has always been that they are scholars, not politicians.”

“Warrior-scholars,” agreed the horse-faced merchant. “Well versed in the four arts and gentlemen all. Which makes his marriage even more scandalous, if you ask me!”

“Yes, yes,” snickered the rat. “How could a man like Hanguang-Jun wed such a fiend? That is the question asked by every cultivator.”

“Yiling Laozu! The Ghost Flute himself from the last great war. I ask you, is such a person as that worthy of marrying the unimpeachable Lan Wangji?”

In which there is an attempt to rescue yet another victim of the Lan Clan.

Darlings by nirejseki

Fix-it 1 chapter 7k word

That made even Lan Qiren started frowning. “Similar news had come to Xichen and myself,” he said. “The Jin sect said they sent several envoys seeking peace and were repulsed with violence, did they not? Wangji, are you saying you were able to go there with no difficulty?”

“That is correct, shufu. The greatest difficulty I encountered was Wei Ying forgetting to pay for lunch.”

“Good man,” Nie Huaisang said approvingly. “He always knew how to sponge a meal like the best of them. Did he manage to get you to pay for anyone else, too?”

Lan Wangji hesitated, which meant yes.

“One of the Wens?” Nie Huaisang’s brother asked, and his voice had dropped down to a forbidding register.

Lan Wangji straightened his back. “I will not apologize for associating with a child of two,” he said icily. “Regardless of his surname –”

“A child of two?!” Lan Qiren exclaimed, horrified, and even Nie Mingjue’s seeming ever-present anger broke for a moment, leaving him looking aghast. “In the Burial Mounds?!”

“Oh, woe is us,” Nie Huaisang said, delighted by this turn of events, which proved to be far more entertaining than what he thought was in store for him on a visit to the Cloud Recesses. “Clearly we’ll all have to go to see for ourselves, right? Right?”

In which Nie Huaisang is bored and, after an argument, he and his Da-ge go to visit the Lans.

the exception proves the rule by defractum

AU - Canon Divergence 1 chapter 5k words

He watches as they shelter under the lifeless trees, sit among the mounds of half buried bodies; there's nothing here but dirt and resentful energy. They stretch their legs, checking in on each other in a low murmur. Wei Ying doesn't seem surprised to see that Lan Wangji is the last person still standing, a pillar of white among the huddled bodies in muddy and stained robes. "Will you tell them where we are?"

Lan Wangji shakes his head. He doesn't know which 'they' Wei Ying means, but it doesn't matter. "I will be back."

"You shouldn't if you know what's good for you." Wei Ying reluctantly huffs a laugh.

Lan Wangji has not known what is good for him for a long time.

In which Lan Wangji makes a different choice at Qiongqi Path.

Turn away at the western gate by Mhalachai

AU - Canon Divergence 1 chapter 13k words

Liu Meihui, reluctant wife to the Gusu Lan sect leader, sits in the confined dark cage of her room, her prison silent around her. Cold hangs outside as the world holds its breath. Waiting.

Waiting.

Qingheng-Jun lays dying, and when the Gusu Lan sect leader takes his last breath (her husband, her jailor), hers shall surely not be far behind.

The Lan elders have long memories. Once Qingheng-Jun's sword no longer stands between them and her throat, Liu Meihui cannot expect to live.

In which Madame Lan escapes with some help and arrives in Yiling after weeks of travel.