#no one FORCED them to go on their quests they took up the sword of their own free will

[x-i-l-verify]

#every time people do this I kind of mentally point at them and go #you either have religious trauma or don’t know how polytheistic religions work #anyway yeah people can do what they want but this is such a huge pet peeve

@ladymanor you can't say that and not drop a link or a title or something 👀

im back on my Hylia did nothing wrong soap box. if i see one more thing about hylia making heroes lives miserable imma have to,, do something dramatic. why would the links point at her for everything gone wrong in their lives when ganon is RIGHT THERE actively lowering their quality of life.

the only link i could really see having a weird relationship with hylia is sksw link and thats because of the "manipulation" hylia/zelda believes she pulled on link even tho he wouldve done it all for her anyways. she did her best. demise kinda killed hylia, she was low on options.

all she does is help in botw/totk. she helps link regain his strength when given offerings. shes not as strong as she used to be. demise kinda killed her, remember? she DID try and talk to zelda through dreams but the reception seemed kinda bad

[bimb0fy]

all for you; luke castellan

ᵖᵃⁱʳⁱⁿᵍˢ; traitor!luke x aphrodite!daughter!reader;

ʷᵃʳⁿⁱⁿᵍˢ; swearing, angst, swords.

ˢᵘᵐᵐᵃʳʸ; the quest had failed, they failed yet you alongside luke had to keep camp in control. yet, one day, he decided to take you to the middle of nowhere to tall to you about something, you thought it was a confession, but what it truly was shocked you.

ʷᵒʳᵈᶜᵒᵘⁿᵗ; 1078 words

ᵐᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡⁱˢᵗ!! | ⁿᵃᵛⁱᵍᵃᵗⁱᵒ���!!

-> Luke had been searching for you everywhere. When he found out there happened to be a fight between Ares' kids and Aphrodite's kids, well, he became too nervous.

He searched every nook and crabby for you, finding Clarisse and Maddie, one of your sisters yelling as you stood between the two.

He pushed passed the crowd, finding you whispering, looking up to speak. No one dared to speak over you, or disrespect you, you were the best archer, assumed to be Apollo's daughter when you were unclaimed, yet it wasn't a surprise when your mother claimed you.

You were gorgeous, probably the prettiest in camp. Luke knew Aphrodite favoured you as she certainly blessed you her looks.

"Are you guys insane! A war breaks out and the first thing you do is go at each other's throats! Grow up we shouldn't be killing eachother!" You exclaimed. Clarisse looked at the ground while Maddie turned around to walk away.

You stormed off to your cabin, your fellow siblings running out instantly as Luke entered. "Hey, you okay?"

"Everything is falling apart, I spent ages trying to make everyone get along and then as always our parents ruin fucking everything!" You cried as you hugged your knees. He wrapped his arms around you, you sniffled into him.

"Hey, it's okay, everyone listens to you, I mean you made Clarisse ashamed for being violent." Luke smiled as you laughed. You turned to face him, a tint of pink on your cheeks as he smiled at you. "Meet me at the willow tree, midnight."

You nodded as he left, leaving you alone in the cabin as you had duties to do. You also happened to be head Councillor of cabin 10. The place was a mess so you decided to clean up.

You watched as a few helped you in their free time. You spent the last hour cleaning. Then deciding to practice your archery.

You headed onto the Apollo Cabin, smiling as you found the head of the apollo cabin, walking to the course as you gossiped.

You two expressed your opinion on the war, she said it wasn't in our hands, that no matter what, our parents would force them into their sides.

As if we'd complain.

We all craved their attention, it was why most of us craved glory. You continued to practice, cracking jokes with the Apollo Cabin as you smiled.

Chiron had tried to explain to you that Archery was a Apollo half-blood activity, but after weeks of you disobeying, he gave up.

He knew that you wouldn't stop if you wanted to continue and he couldn't say no to you, no one could.

You waited till midnight. You were curious. Was it a confession? Was he simply just wishing to spend time with you? You had to know. When it was time, you grabbed your necklace, it was a gift from Chiron, one that would turn into a bow. A gift from Luke, your bracelet that turns into a sword.

Yet the sword was pink with flowers, one to fit your personality. Yet, the other side of the blade showed a different story. A dark color infected the side with roses dripping blood.

It showed who you were, an angel who wouldn't hesitate to spill blood if she had to.

You walked to find him sitting on the stump of a fallen tree. he was anxious clearly. Maybe having to do with Clarisse being the thief and with him having to talk to you.

"Hey." You called out as he stood up, smiling as he hugged, you.

"Hey, I uhm, you might wanna sit down for this," Luke said as he led you toward the stump. You sat down. Wait, this isn't a confession...?

He took a deep breath as he looked at you. "Clarisse didn't steal the bolt. I did." He confessed as you stood up. You looked at him as he stood up after you. Looking into your eyes, as if pleading for you to hear him out.

"Please, flowers." He held onto your arm as you shoved him off. He grabbed you once more, pulling you closer. "Flower, I, this is all for me and you."

"For me? You betrayed fucking Zeus, for me?" Your accusatory tone was not helping him, he gripped your arm harder, staring deep into your eyes.

"Flowers, listen to me, our parents, they are my enemy." He pleaded as you shoved him off, he yielded his sword, and you turned around as he kicked you down, placing the tip of his blade under your chin to lift you up. "You know it took forever to convince Kronos to spare you, and this is what you do for me in return."

"Your actions will lead to the death of millions!" You couldn't stop the tears from welling in your eyes.

"But you'd be safe my flower." He muttered as he kneeled down to hold you. "All of this is for you. I love you, Flowers."

"Luke, this isn't what you want, it isn't too late." You cried as he wrapped his fingers around your neck as he pinned you to a tree.

You were mortified, his fingers started to have some sort of force against you. He wasn't hurting you, he was trying to convince you to join him. "Flowers, cmon, just imagine how life would be without our parents fucking up everything. I'll protect you, don't worry."

"Luke, please." You begged as he shoved you harder into the tree.

"No, you listen, this is all for you, there isn't a line in both worlds I wouldn't cross for you." He laughed as he leaned in, looking down at you, lips parted as he glanced at yours. "You are everything to me."

You gasped as he leaned in to kiss you, mirroring his movements instantly as he smirked. You placed your hand onto his cheek as he slithered his hands onto your waist. You pulled back to take a breath as he stared at you.

"Please flowers, work with me and no one will get hurt." He whispered into your ears as you turned to face him.

"Do you promise me that?" You mumbled as he nodded, pushing the hair behind your ear.

"I promise flowers." He whispered as he helped you up, he grabbed his sword, making it return to its original form as he held out his hand towards you. "C'mon flowers, let's go get some rest."

[itsss4t4n]

Hello can I please request a Leo Valdez x reader where maybe they’re having to go up against a monster together and Leo or reader gets hurt and then there’s a really cute confession

I really like you - Leo Valdez x Child of Apollo

Warnings: mention of injury, slight angst, confession/ happy ending, , not set in a specific time, bad spanish (curses), this was my first time writing a fight scene so i apologize, probably butchered what ambrosia can do for plot purposes, No use of y/n, kith, characters are 16+

a/n: i made the reader a child of apollo bc it made for a cute taking care of the injury moment, all of the spanish is from google and english is not my first language, THIS BECAME WAY LONGGEER THAN PLANNED, this was a challenge to write but i also had a lot of fun

Going on a quest with Leo Valdez sounded pretty easy at first. He can literally make fire and is able to pull pretty much anything out of his magic toolbelt.

What you had not considered however, was how much that guy could talk. Not just talk, he flirtet. like his life depended on it. Constantly.

 Since you met him he took every oppertunity for it. Will had tried to tell you that Leo liked you multiple times but you were sure the flirting was just part of his personality.

Its not like it bothered you. It was flattering. But sometimes it hurt, just a little, to know that you were nothing special to him. Just another friend to flirt with. 

And now, in the middle of fighting against a Gryphon, it was more distracting to you than anything. 

You had walked next to each other through a forest, talking when, just as you reached a clearing,  the almost scrawny looking creature appeared. 

Its hind legs those of a lion, but with dark, almost black fur, while the front part of its body was that of an eagle, again almost black, with big wings on its back. Despite being half lion it looked closer to a hyena. The Gryphons Talons and beak glinting dangerously in the fading sunlight, as its red gleaming eyes were trained onto your bodys. 

For a few seconds it simply stood infront of them. Not attacking. You and Leo mirrored its stillness. Hoping against all odds that it would just leave. 

But of course its never that easy.

Within a split second it had launched into the air, just to swoop down towards you, talons streched out infront of its body. You quickly shoved Leo aside, both of you tumpling to the ground as the gryphons talons plunged into the earth where you had been seconds before.

As you scrambled to your feet, the gryphon flew upwards in preperation to dive down again. Within seconds you had pulled your bow of your shoulder and an arrow trained on the flying monster. 

Next to you Leo had pulled a sword out of its sheath on his belt. He had rebelled against it, saying he was gonna be fine with his 3 pound club hammer and fire, but you had forced the sword on him incase of emergency and he was pretty glad for that now.

You started firing arrows at the creature, the first few not hitting anything as the gryphon was really quick and managed to dodge them easily. The fourth one hit its hind leg but the gryphon showed almost no reaction to it. Another arrow hit the gryphons left wing making it tumble towards earth slightly. It was still in the air but was clearly struggling to do so. 

At this point the winged monster was close enough to the ground for leo to lunge at it with his sword, ducking under a talon before dragging his sword along the chest and belly of the creature, making it turn to dust.

"Well, that was easy, dont you thing princesa?", Leo turned to you with a grin, his swordarm losely hanging at his side. 

"Yea, it was." You looked away from him, because gods did he look good like that. "Too easy", you started looking around, "Usually Gryphons are in bigger groups." 

As you slowly turned towards leo again you quickly pulled up your bow, and shot the gryphon tht was about to attack leo, luckily hitting its heart dead center, making it fall to dust.

Leo had flinched slightly as you shot, but whipped around just barely catching the eyes of the monster before they disapeared.

"La Concha de tu Madre", he quietly cursed. You didnt speak a lot of spanish but this one was pretty easy to interpret as 'motherfucker'.

He slowly walked back towards you, while looking around in search for more monsters. "Okay you're right there are definetely more."

"Okay I'll try to take out as many as i can from the sky, you need to handle any that come to close." You instructed as you spotted one Gryphon above you, shooting it.

"Aye Aye." Leo lifted his sword. "I'll protect you dont worry, Hermosa." 

Again, you didnt know what exactly he just called you but considering it was Leo and his tone of voice was very obviously flirty, you assumed it was some sort of petname.

Hearing his voice as he said it made you distracted for just a split second. But that was enough for the arrow you were shooting to jerk slightly to the left, missing the Gryphon.

"Fuck", you cursed under you breath as you pull out the next arrow and aiming it at the gryphon that had almost reached you now, but Leo had already jumped in attacking it. After a few seconds he had killed it.

This went well for a minute or so, but when you had almost all of them killed , the last four attacked all at ones. Why they mostly attacked solo before you coudnt say.

You managed to shoot one, but Leo had to fend of three of them at once. You aimed at them but couldnt shoot without risking to hit leo. Leo managed to kill one but was immedeately hit with the talons of another against his side. 

He let out a sound similar to that of a wounded dog, before swinging around too face the gryphon and cutting of its head as you finally had a clean shot of the last winged beast.

They turned to dust at the same time. 

You and Leo stood in complete silence for a few seconds catching your breaths. But then Leo let out a little whimper, dropping his sword and bringing his hand up to hold is side.

"LEO!"

 You ran towards him, dropping your bow in favour of helping him towards a fallen tree on the edge of the clearing. 

"Sit and take of your shirt" 

You pulled of your backpack and knelt infront of him, taking out healing supplies as well as a small plastic bag filled ambrosia and a bottle of water.

"Wow, at least let me buy you dinner first, cariño", he flashed you a quick flirty but pained grin as he started to pull of his shirt, grunting in pain in the process.

Deciding to gloss over that comment you wait for him to get off his shirt. 

"I'm really sorry..." 

"For what?" ,He looked at you confused as he laid his shirt on the tree next to him.

You hand him a little square of ambrosia. "I probably could've shot that Gryphon before it attacked you. But I was to scared that I might hit you instead. If I would've just shot, you wouldnt be hurt now." You avoided lookin at his face but could see him eating the piece of ambrosia as you opened the waterbottle, pouring some water on a piece of cloth.

Leo chewed for a few seconds in thougt before swallowing. "That wasnt your fault. Not shooting was the right decision. I'm fine really." He tried to catch your eyes but you purposfully put all your focus on his wound. 

"Your not fine." You mumbled through gritted teeth as you started to clean the wound with the cloth. The Gryphon got him good. Three long gashes starting about an inch to the left of his belly button stretching to the side of his ribs, each almost 6 inches long. Luckily they werent as deep and only flesh wounds, not hitting any organs. 

Leo hissed as you carefully wiped away blood, the ambrosia having stopped the bleeding already. 

The wound now clean, you put the now bloody cloth aside and inspected the gashes further, carefully running your hands over them. You squinted a little as you concentrated.  

You see, your dad bein Apollo made you lucky enough to be blessed with healing powers. Nothing crazy. You definetely wouldnt be able to fully heal this, but it would be much more managable.

Concentrating on letting energy flow through your hands into Leo, you watched the edges of the wounds shrink. The whole thing going down to almost half its orinal size and depth. At this point he wouldnt need stitches.

"Wow, you can fuckin heal?!" You finally look up into Leos eyes, a shocked but excited expression on his face. 

"Yeah.." You say confused. You thought he knew that. Clearly he didnt. But to his credit you didnt do it often, as it was exhausting.

"Thats awesome! It feels all warm and tingly" He grins. His expression reminding you of a child on christmas. It made your insides feel all warm and tingly too.

You quickly looked away, clearing your throat, after realizing that you had just been staring at him for like 30 seconds like a lovesick idiot.

You could feel how his eyes stayed glued to your face as you looked through your stuff for a gauze pad and a roll of bandages.

As you looked up to put on the pad and bandage, you could see his smirk out of the corner of your eyes. He had noticed your staring. You bit the inside of your cheek as you continued to wrap the bandage around his torso. 

The proximity of it made your mouth dry and your stomach turn in nervousness. Your head was racing in thoughts. You had never been this close to him, and him bein shirtless certainly didnt help you either. You were sure your face had one slightly pink, it certainly felt like it.

When you were done you cleared you throat again and began to put away your stuff to avoid looking at him. 

"You should be fine now. Uhm... Might be a little sore but uhm.. yea.." Gods this was embarrassing . Really. 

"Hey Princesa?" He said softly, making you turn towards him with a hum in reply. "Thank you."

A soft smile adorned his face. Not a grin or smirk. The kind were his lips curled up in the corners, lips closed, no teeth showing. The kind that made the skin at the outer corner of his eyes crinkle ever so slightly. Eyes that looked so adoring, instead of their usual almost crazy look. It was an expression he didnt show often. 

Your own face softened at his expression, eyebrows rising just the tiniest bit in surprise.

"No problem." A soft smile matching Leos grew on your face. You forced yourself to not look away from him this time. You watched his own gaze observing your face, before moving back to your eyes. He swallowed, his adams apple bopping slighly.

Leo mumbling your name snapped you out of your daze sligthly. Your real name, not some flirty spanish nickname. Just you. 

"I really, really like you." He sounded really nervous. His eyes kept shifting from one of your eyes to the other before looking away for a second and then back to your eyes.

Hearing those worlds made your brain go into overdrive. Did he really just say that? Did you mishear? Is he making fun of you? He must be. But leo wouldnt do that. But there is no way he liked you right? Sure he flirtet with you. a lot. but he did that with everyone right? Why is he looking at you like that? 

You realize you've just been staring at him, not giving him an answer, and hes starting to look anxious at your lack of response.

"Me? You like me?"

"yea..."

"I- ...."

You couldnt think of a proper response. It shouldve just been a simple i like you too. Bu you still hadnt fully comprehendet the situation. 

"You know what... Just forget i said anyhing. I'm sorry I didnt mean to make things awkward or anything-" Leo started to ramble, interpreing your silence as rejection and shifting his eyes to his feet.

"I like you too!" You blurted out in panic, making his eyes snap back up to meet your gaze. "Like a lot. I like your stupid flirting and i hate it when you flirt with other people. I like when you use tha stupidly soft smile that you barely show. I like your dumb jokes even when they're not funny. I like how you always manage to calm me down no matter how scared i am. I like he way your hair falls into your eyes all the time." You look into his eyes, reaching up to grasp his hands in yours, as your expression softens. "I really like you Leo Valdez."

"really?"

"Yes, really" you laugh slighty never breaking eye contact, making Leo grin slightly.

You just look at each other for a few seconds before Leo quietly asks.

"princesa?"You hum in reply. "Can I kiss you?"

"Please."

Thats all it takes for his lips to crash into yours. Its soft, but intense. Your eyes are closed as his lip move against yours. His hands moving to cup your face as yours move around his neck, fingers sinking into his brown curls. 

When he pulls away you keep your eyes closed for a few seconds. Leo rests his forehed against yours, his thumbs lightly stroking your cheeks as both of you catch your breaths. 

You lean back in to kiss him again. A quick, small one this time.

You finally open your eyes to look at him. Both of you have goofy smiles stuck on your faces.

"You dont even know how long ive wanted to do that."

"Hopefully at least as long as i have, mi  sol."

(translations: Princesa: Princess, cariño: Darling, mi sol: my sun )

[aezuria]

*ੈ✎ always an angel, never a god.

—not strong enough, boygenius

note: hey guys i think you were a lil TOO happy after that last jason post 😇😇😇

content: jason grace x reader; oneshot, 1.2k

warnings: ANGST, violence, character-centered???, allusions to suicide, probably inaccurate death cause i spoiled myself by reading it but i was too sad to check again

jason was tired. so tired. he felt like he was sinking into quicksand as he walked, back aching as if he was atlas, holding up the sky. his fingers twitched, residual sparks of lightning flickering up his arms. they stung. they had never stung before.

he marched straight to his lonely cabin, not stopping at leo's bunker, or aprhodite's cabin—not even yours. he was never too tired to say hi to his friends before. he was never too tired to say to you before. what was wrong with him?

the door shut behind jason, providing him an escape from the ever-busy camp. it gave him relief to slump to the floor, his legs giving out on him as if they were just holding out until he was alone, where prying eyes couldn't reach.

he simply sat there, hugging his knees to his chest like he did whenever he wanted to hide from the loud orders he was given as a child, or so he remembered.

his perfect mask was breaking, his perfect attitude slipping. his nails dug into his arms, the bite of pain clearing his foggy mind. he wouldn't allow himself any time to wallow in his feelings. jason forced himself up and headed into the bathroom.

he wanted nothing more than to take a warm bath, to soak for a while and rest his aching muscles. maybe slide a little too far down so his head dipped below the water, and stay there until it did its work.

but he couldn't, and he wouldn't. he got into the shower, the water ice against his skin. his body screamed in protest, lungs tightening as he took a deep breath at the sudden drop in temperature. that was sure to keep him out of his own head.

and yet, like everything he felt he did recently, he failed. jason couldn't sleep, his mind racing with feelings he tried so hard to shove down. emotions impeded with his ability to work, and if he couldn't work properly, then he was useless. his brain didn't seem to care; it laughed in his face as it threw thought after thought at him. because maybe, in the back of his head, he did feel useless.

it was always percy this, percy that. percy got to be praetor while jason got whispers of "you could never be him." was there something about him that was so forgettable people couldn't wait to replace him? was that why his memories were gone? because nothing about them was so important for even him to hold? was that why, even though little by little they returned, he still had blank spaces in the days he used to recall? maybe if he worked a little harder, he'd be as good as him.

and it was quite unfair of him to feel this way, he believed. after all, percy was a good guy. it's not like they were on bad terms— they could even be called acquaintances, friends if you were looking on the bright side.

thinking of friends brought him to you, the only one he had memories of from the start. you were his best friend, his one and only. you stuck with him, explaining who he was and where he came from as best you could. he remembered how you had painted him like an angel, but he looked at the gaps of your brushstrokes and saw that he was hardened like a double-edged sword. he remembered how you glorified the structure of the romans for his sake, but he read between your praise and found a yearning to be free.

and that's why when you slipped from his waiting heart, he let you go. he did not wish to anchor you when you were meant to be among the clouds, soaring like a bird (yet, why was it that he found you with the son of the sea instead of him?)

"i'm going on another quest." jason smiled weakly, doing his best to put up a brave face. but gods, was it hard. he wanted nothing more than to feel your warmth in his arms; maybe it would soothe the way his heart clenched every time he was reminded of the way he'll never be yours.

"another?" you frowned. he hated the way his eyes were drawn to your lips like lightning to metal. "didn't you just get back from one?"

he shrugged, trying to laugh it off. "yeah, well, someone's gotta do the work around here. i'm the best man for the job." he sounded like he was trying to convince himself. once jason realized your expression wouldn't change, his shoulders sagged. he looked more like a kid than ever, bearing the weight of the world only the gods could lift. "look, i'll get back soon, okay?"

"swear it?" you held out your pinky, your eyes never leaving his face. you offered him a grin, trying to lighten the mood. "if you don't, i might have to get you back for that."

jason chuckled, linking his pinky with yours. "i swear." but it wasn't enough, he needed to hold you. just one more time. he wrapped you in his arms, an aching feeling in his chest that wouldn't go away. his heart twisted even more once he felt you hug him in return, your hands stroking his back like you always did when he was anxious.

he felt you mumble a "be safe" into his shoulder, and he willed himself not to cry in front of you. he gave you a firm nod and pulled away, taking one last second to admire you before he had to leave.

"see you soon, jason." you offered him one last smile.

"goodbye, y/n." why were the words so final on his tongue?

it was because he knew, from his sun-streaked hair to his sore heels, that he would never return. he had the foreboding feeling that something terrible was going to happen, and he'd rather have it happen to him than anyone else.

it was for the best, he thought. he'd die knowing he saved his friends than give up. isn't that what his whole life was for?

jason felt the arrow pierce his heart, three more succeeding it. it was strange. though he bled and bled until he laid in a bed of blood, it felt like a cruel but relieving escape from his emotions. it eased his limbs like a drug, made him feel high on the tang of silver in his mouth. but his heart still fought to beat, to live, to remember. memories of leo and piper, percy and annabeth, frank and hazel. reyna and camp jupiter, chiron and camp half-blood. jason remembered you. how your smile was the light of his life, how it was the last time he'd ever see it again. but he'd die happy, the image of your face branded into his eyes as they shut. when the spear pierced his chest one last time, he felt the weight of his mind disappear back into the sky from which he came from.

(but his mind was light from the holes in his story that he could never truly fill.)

[tobbotobbs]

Twinkle Little Star

Astarion Ancunin x Masc/Male presenting Tav/Reader (Reader referred to as Tav) 

TW: sad, angst, no happy ending, mcd, slight gore ig, sad astarion, he needs a hug

It was supposed to be an easy quest. Get into the brothel, find one of his siblings, take them gently or with force and then talk to them about Cazador and what he was up to. He was suppposed to get informations and then let his brother or sister go, hopefully with having convinced them into helping him with their plan to destroy the abomination of a man that was once their only hope and tortured them their entire life. After that they should have gone to the Szarr palace and easily killed him with maybe a few dead servants and a little blood over their clothes. This? No, this was not how it was supposed to go. Yes he talked to Leon, his brother, and found out that Cazador was not letting anyone into the ballroom. He also found out that he now seemed to be keeping guard dogs, Gnolls and Hobgoblins. Cazador never had much approval left for anything close to dogs. So why now? He wanted everyone to be locked out of his ritual of course, but how big the ritual was really going to be, Astarion would have never imagined. They underestimated the Vampire Lord and that was where they all failed. The second Astarion, Tav, Karlach and Gale stood at the end of the stairs in that creepy looking dungeon, Cazador had control over the situation thanks to the Spawn. Astarion was leaped from his feet by a powerful magic and taken to the top of that pyramid looking cyrcle his other siblings formed, who were also flowing in the air thanks to that blood red powerful magic that came from Cazador. He was the last piece that was missing for Cazador to fullfill his ritual, his deal with Mephistopheles and he went right into the trap, for the Vampire to finish his work to get even more powerful by killing 7000 Vampire Spawns and his 7 chosen Spawns, the ones wearing that lovely 'poem' on their back. To think he wanted to take over the ritual, once he had killed Cazador, was making him feel like he could throw up all the wine and the blood from Tav he drank today. Tav. Oh, his handsome, pretty and shy Tav. Always thinking too much, worrying- caring too much. Espacially about Astarion. He didn’t deserve any of this to happen to him and yet there he stood, a scared scream of Astarions name left his lips before he was dashing forwards to run over to him, to help him, to save his world. But he couldn’t do such thing. Karlach took a hold of his waist, holding his lover back so he wouldn’t do something stupid now. The Tiefling looked just as hurt by what just happened, but she tried to not let it get to her head just as Gale did, too. Who was now coming forward to stand next to them and faced Cazador. They all stood there, looking at the monsters face. It was ugly and disgustingly smiling at them. He laughed at them. Laughed at Tav for really falling for Astarions pathetic and weak character. Falling for the act and the seduction, just so Astarion would have protection and a save place to stay. For thinking they could stop him. For what he was about to do. 

If it weren’t for Tav’s ability to use misty step freely as he pleased, everything might have turned out differently. He teleported in the blink of an eye, right next to Cazador and his dagger already lifted to strike and cut through the Vampires throat. If he only had seen it coming. The hand that held 5 sword like sharp claws instead of soft fingertips. He tore right through Tavs chest. Thanks to the power that comes with being a Vampire Lord, it looked as if he had just punched through water, without any resistence. A weird and awful eery wet and cracking sound was flying through the silent dungeon. If Astarion and the others wouldn’t have had their eyes on Tav, it could have been also mistaken with the sound of wet fresh salary being crunched into pieces or like an apple, that was ripped apart by some Barbarian just like Karlach was. The time stood still as Cazador proudfully and with no shame held their groups leader with his bare hand and kept him from falling down to the floor. It must be hurting so much, Karlach thought as she watched Tav struggle to breath and keep the pained sounds at bay. He does not deserve this, was what Gale wanted to say out loud. Not him, anyone but him please. That is what was going through Astarions mind as he watched the love of his life slowly die at the hands of the monster he thought once saved him. What a fool he was. The Vampire Spawn was trying to move, tryied to do something just anything to get to his dear Darling. But he couldn’t. He was still restricted by the magic coming from Cazador, who was now laughing at Tav’s pathetic and stupid attempt to kill him. Tav was, even in his last minutes, looking with pure hatred and disgust at Cazador Szarr, who now lifted his body from the floor which caused him to let out a gut wrenching scream. He could feel every part in him moving and straining against the hand in his chest, could feel the sharp claws that punctured through his lungs and left him breathing in his own blood. Karlach was the first to move. She immediatly summoned Scratch and send their dog companion Astarions way to help free him from his restrictions while she herself came at Cazador with her battleaxe. Gale was fast to followe her lead and started casting spells at the guard dogs that were in their way, killing many at once with his large area and his favourite necromancy spells. Like that they came easily through to Cazador, who looked a little spooked now. The Vampire Lord already had dropped Tav a few feet away from him, no longer interested in his dying form. Now ready to have an actual fight and a little fun killing some people, the Vampire gripped his magical staff and aslo started throwing spells at Gale, to take the wizard out first. He wasn’t dumb, after all wizards are hard to kill with their ability to attack from distance and counter spell other spells thrown at them or magically protect themself and others. The barbarian, Cazador was smiling to himself, he would deal with later. He had the feeling she and his little pet had a deeper connection so it would be fun hurting her in front of Astarion right before the ritual to torture him one last time, even if their connection wasn’t as deep as the one between his chosen Spawn and that pathetic boy trying to kill him with a mere little dagger. Oh how he wished he could’ve saved that ones death for later. To terrorize his Spawn really good one last time. 

That was not the important thing going on right now though, no. It was the fight that Cazador began to loose. Gale was a talented wizard, perhaps the most talented Astarion has ever met and he was surely not backing down or getting tired from this fight. Gale stood his ground and counter spelled every curse and element the Vampire Lord sent his and Karlachs way, meanwhile he also threw various powerful magic at their opponent. His spells hit and Cazador started to get tired and get more risky with his steps and his focus on both the barbarian and the wizard. He did not notice nor did he looked when Karlach suddenly vanished from his peripheral vision and appeared just a few seconds later behind him with her battleaxe raised high above her head and her mouth leaving a loud battlecry that was full of rage, sorrow, pain and grief. Karlach brought down the heavy axe and hit the Vampire right on the head which split open into two parts so easily, it was rather eery. Her eyes were full of tears of rage and sadness. Her breathing was hard and shallow and without a single care about anything she swung her weapon again and hit the now dead Vampire Lord under her again and again and again. Until she felt soft smaller hands frap around her wrist and tugged her into a warm welcoming embrace full of empathy. Gale was crying himself, he had just lost his best friend and they hadn’t even had time to really mourn. Just head straight into a fight to not die themself. While Gale and Karlach held eachother close they heard the quiet taps of paws on the cold stone floor, getting closer to them but then stopping a few feet away. A high pitched whine was all they heard and they knew it was Scratch who has found Tav’s dead, lifeless body on the floor laying in his own still warm blood with his eyes looking empty and into the nothingness. Scratch sat next to Tav and tried to wake him up with nudging his arm with his wet nose, but Tav didn’t move at all. Another whine left Scratches mouth. Karlach and Gale looked at eachother before they took another look at Tav and then at their other friend.  

Astarion was feeling like he was drowning, even though he didn’t even need to breath as Vampire Spawn. But it still felt like he was underwater, being dragged under the surface by some invisible monster. He knew he could move and all, Scratch had helped him after all and Cazador was dead now too, so the magic was gone and he could move and wasn’t dragged underwater by any monster. His eyes felt weirdly wet and his cheeks too, he was crying. Astarion had not cried in so long. He never found himself caring, loving someone so much in the last 200 years. He never cried but now here he was, his legs carrying him to his long passed lover and breaking down next to Tav. Hid eyes never stopped the salty tears and he could care less when he started whimpering and moaning in complete misery and pain. His hands shook as he tried to hold Tav’s hand in his and give it a soft, gentle kiss like he does so often when they spent the night together in his tennt, reading books or just talking. It felt unreal to him, seeing the strongest person he knew lie there, cold and without any life in them. His other hand creeped up Tav’s face to gently cup his cheek and caress it with his fingers. He cried and mumbled how it wasn’t fair this had happened. Whispered little nothings into the silence of the dungeon about how he was going to spent his eternity with Tav somehow. It was devestating to watch, even more so to hear and listen to Astarion talk to Tav as if he was still alive and could answer him.  

And the worst part was the little star necklace he had given Tav that he now held in his trembling hands. A little star pendant was on the silvery chain. It should remind Tav of him and make him feel like a part of Astarion is always with him. It was a joke first, after Tav found out his anme meant little star and hestarted nicknaming him Star instead of Astarion. It turned into something so much more and meaningful to both of them amd here they were. The twinkle of his star was gone. 

[moltengoldveins]

*vibrating out of my skin* b-bbphhh….. beeduo. But its. It’s the Minotaur. and Theseus. Has someone done this? Please tell me someone has done this. 

Tubbo as a boy trapped in the most technologically advanced maze ever made, learning engineering from the walls meant to contain him, his selfish father (Schlatt) so shamed by his ‘mutations’ he spreads rumors that the boy is a monster, throwing sacrifices to the maze every seven years. Tubbo’s never been able to save them in time. Something savage is in the walls, hunting, and while the maze is built specifically to keep Tubbo alive, it is not so for the foreign prisoners. 

Meanwhile, Ranboo is the prince of an oppressed kingdom, forced to give blood sacrifice every seven years. His father (Phil, not the most common dynamic but roll with it it becomes relevant later) tells stories of the kingdom’s former glory, the glory lost when their most famed general fell to the war, taken and by all accounts killed by Tubbo’s father. Ranboo decides to go on a quest to slay the monster his people are being fed to, and further, to live up to the memory of that lost general and kill the enemy king, freeing his people. He promises to lift white sails if he returns alive, and that his men will lift black ones if he dies. (There’s some Lady of Death symbolism happening here, work with me) Importantly, his father gives him an old token of a ‘lost friend’ before he goes, an emerald on a chain. He says it’s for good luck, and guidance. He seems… really sad about it tho. Hm. Surely that’s not important. 

Niki is the vassal/adopted daughter/ healer?? Of Schlatt, who sneaks out now and then to give Tubbo snacks. The maze likes her, and she is the only one the old warden told its secrets to before he escaped with his son. She cannot navigate the twisted paths like Tubbo, who has spent his entire life walking those halls, but she is protected from whatever is in the walls. She could get Tubbo out, but they’d have nowhere to go, so she waits. Every year, she prays she will find a way to get them out. Every seven, she prays Tubbo will not have to watch any of the prisoners die. 

Ranboo arrives and threatens Schlatt, who only laughs at the boys boldness and throws him into the maze first. (Oddly, while he took every stitch of gold from Ranboo’s neck and hands, he left the earring. He said something about it being ‘fitting. It’ll finally die with its partner’) 

just when Ranboo is about to be thrown in, Niki, who couldn’t bear the thought of such a kind looking kid dying so horribly, sneaks him a sword and a ball of golden thread. “It will guide you when you need it. Sam made it as a last resort.” She whispers, right before the gates close. 

Tubbo, furious at his failure seven years ago to save any of the hostages (he was twelve. There was nothing he could have done.) manages to get to Ranboo just in time to keep the monster away from them both. The maze closes around them and for a moment, it looks as if they’ll fight. Then Tubbo smiles, and Ranboo lowers his sword, and the two of them are friends in seconds. Tubbo takes Ranboo back to the little room he’s set up shop in, boasting about his inventions but clearly Very unaccustomed to speaking with Actual People. Unfortunately for everyone involved, Ranboo is the physical child of two polymorphed dragons and the adopted child of an angel and a goddess. He isn’t accustomed to speaking with Actual People either. They get along smashingly. 

Tubbo and Niki have made a plan of escape, but never had chance to use it. Now that Ranboo can offer sanctuary, it’s just a matter of getting out and running, but Ranboo refuses. He can’t leave whatever monster is really in the walls for anyone to find and either die to or take advantage of, even if he does destroy Schlatt’s regime. Tubbo insists it’s impossible to even find the thing, its lair is in the fabled ‘center of the maze’, which even he has never been able to find. And even if he could find it, it wouldn’t matter. He’d be killed in an instant. Whatever the thing is, it’s a better fighter than anything else in the nation: that’s why it was locked away. Ranboo offers Tubbo his signet ring (kinda a proposal gesture, we’re Not Acknowledging That RN Tho, We’re Both Traumatized and Trying Not To Die) and tells him to flee to the Antarctic Empire after Niki’s plan to kill Schlatt succeeds. That way Phil can help them, even if Ranboo doesn’t make it. 

Unspooling the golden thread, Ranboo follows it to the center of a maze, where he finds… a study. It looks like it was torn through by a hurricane, then carefully rebuilt, and half of it is filled with untouched and unfinished mechanical structures. He other half is filled with notebooks, maps of the maze, and frantic scribbling. “Another hunt today” one says “I only knew because my claws were scraped.” “I woke with blood in my teeth” another page says. “I think it was a person. I think I was a person, before. I don’t think I am anymore.” 

He doesn’t have the time to piece things together though, because a hulking figure twice his size emerges from a side door and slams into him. He barely manages to knock the blow of a massive axe away, and squinting in the low light, he sees a long-haired, red-eyed man in a tattered uniform and a cape, face twisted and malformed with scars and massive fangs. The uniform is that of Ranboo’s home country. The cape is eerily similar to the one on Phil’s old portraits, before the war. 

‘Oh.�� Ranboo realizes, right as he gets kicked through a wall of foliage. ‘You’re the reason my dad is so sad all the time.’ 

it really seems like all is lost. The man is clearly rabid, insane and muttering to himself, eyes glowing crimson. But right as he’s about to kill Ranboo, he sees the earring, and he stops. He turns to a drawer in one of the desks and pulls out a matching earring, and the light fades from his eyes. 

‘im sorry’ he says, ‘I’m not a man anymore. They took that from me. It was some kind of curse. They made me kill my own people. They made me a creature.’ 

‘well, that’s nothing new’ Ranboo shrugs. ‘Curses can be broken, and I’m rather good friends with a few creatures at this point. What’s one more?’ 

so they escape, the earrings doing something?? To help keep the man calm. Niki burns the tree in the center of the castle and Techno (because we all knew it was Techno) triggers the self destruct system he’d found in the maze during those few moments of sanity between all the hunting. Niki also remembers a rant or an offhand comment Schlatt made at some point early in her apprenticeship about how to break some curse in the maze, something he was gloating about that she only really gets once she sees the massive fellow being led out of the maze by a very excited Ranboo. 

everyone escapes and there’s more Plot but the important bit is: Ranboo forgets about the sails. As they near the harbor, they see a cloud of ravens flying in from every direction, and Techno Loses His Mind. Turns out that only happens when Phil is Really In Danger, Dying, or, hypothetically, dead of grief from the loss of what he believes to be his last living family member. (Yes we have the option here of perms-killing Phil right in the final stretch but I Choose No, because No) There’s a very dramatic reunion where Techno is midway to War Mode while Phil is definitely post-giving-his-soul-up-to-Lady-Death-now-that-everyone-I-love-is-dead, Just-Back-From-Being-Dead-And-Not-Sure-Why-His-Wife-Didn’t-Keep-Him-This-Time??? before Ranboo Explains Everything. Tubbo and Ranboo end up platonically married like Ranboo’s father and Tubbo’s weird uncle in the walls before them and ruling the country as King and General. Niki gets a bakery and a chance to use her alchemy powers for yummy purposes instead of poison. Everyone lives and is happy. The end.

[skyloftsword]

Why Tears of the Kingdom is the Breath of the Wild I was hoping for

Alright, so before I get into my rant. I really like Breath of the Wild. It's a very fun game and the events of 100 years ago are super interesting. It just... unfortunately let me down after Skyward Sword in two aspects that I personally feel Tears of the Kingdom succeeded at for me. Story and dungeons. Also please don't tell me to watch a Youtuber on why TotK is worse than nuclear war. I make my own opinions and my take on TotK is very unlikely to change. I have done 6 playthroughs and still feel this way. Spoiler warning.

Okay, so my issue with Breath of the Wild's story is how it feels like a mess at times. The memories don't even try to tell anything coherent outside of the final few. Some of them even need journals for any payoff as well. This system also limited the Champions from getting any development or character arcs. It took until Tears for me to appreciate them because Hyrule was still grateful for them. Revali's bow being treasured by Teba, Riju prays to Lady Urbosa in her diary, Mipha got Mipha's Court and Sidon's entire character arc was about how her death still haunts him and he doesn't want that to happen ever again. Daruk... got lights added to his statue's eyes I guess. Anyways, Tears' equivalent to them is the Neo Sages. Tulin, Riju, Sidon and Yunobo. They each get their own arc and you can tell how much they have grown since Breath of the Wild. What makes them better here is that they actually are relevant for more than just the Divine Beast boarding segments. Sidon deals with fear of losing his beloved Yona just like how he lost Mipha 105ish years ago, yet Yona and Link bring him to his senses. Riju goes from being stressed out about how she's too weak to defend Gerudo Town from the Gibdos with her aim, but Link returning reassures her. Tulin goes from being arrogant and thinking he can do anything all by himself to realizing that charging ahead all on his own is a bad idea and that working as a team is the best way to do things. Yunobo goes from being a manipulated crack dealer to being cowardly again for a bit to becoming courageous and willing to fight to defend Hyrule. These arcs help me appreciate the characters a LOT more. The Old Sages intentionally aren't fully fleshed out characters and its fine because they're barely on screen (their names are Ruto, Darunia, Nabooru and possibly just Medoh for the Rito Sage). Ganondorf being an actual character really helps as well. He wants to use the godlike power of the Secret Stones to his advantage to achieve total rule of the world (in the English localization at least). Rauru and Sonia are wonderful characters that actually try to help Zelda achieve her goal of returning to her time (nice opposition of Rhoam forcing her to achieve her light powers and being harsh towards her). Unlike the events of 100 years ago, the memories/Tears in this game actually focus on telling what led to the Imprisoning War in a specific order. The events in the memories and Tears also are all relevant and side stuff was pushed to the Stone Monument side adventure. Unfortunately the game is less linear than Breath (which honestly should be the other way around and is a massive storytelling issue), however Impa at least alludes to the order of the Tears when you go to the Forgotten Temple after the first one. The Fifth Sage quest is also an incredible questline that did what BotW should have done. It showed the Imprisoning War and how Ganondorf shouldn't be taken lightly. I seriously feel let down not seeing Link and Zelda fight the Calamity and losing. Also thank god you don't have to do an absurdly tedious backtrack quest to unlock the Camera, Tears, the Champion Leathers and the Kohga fight.

Onto the dungeons. I don't get why people switched up on the Divine Beasts in a positive way. They have a great gimmick and the "fights" are cool but that's it. The puzzles are... fine I guess? The visuals are cookie cutter and so are the bosses in every aspect except gameplay (and are basically just the Calamity split into 1/4). Tears' Temples are legitimately the most enjoyable dungeons in the series for me. The atmosphere, music, puzzles having a large amount of solutions, etc. Not to mention the boss fights actually being unique and very fun this time (BotW had some bangers too like Koshia and Thunderblight) and have unique fight themes that are so, so, so good. Seized Construct might be my favorite non-final battle boss theme for me. Also the pre-dungeon segments actually feeling like dungeons for 4/5 of them really helped make me like them more. Both games also have great and bad Shrines. TotK has far less bad ones and has a much better vibe with it's Shrines.

Anyways, ramble over. Thanks for reading. The only reason I made this post was because I was pissed off due to personal reasons. I love these games and this series so please don't take this as me hating BotW.

[ironwoman359]

A Thief's Gamble - Ch. 11

Misdirection

Prev: Ch.10 ...Has a Silver Lining || Next: Ch.12 A Ghost From the Past Fic Masterpost

Fic Summary: Brynjolf is certain that the only way the Thieves Guild will return to its glory days is by bringing in new, talented members. Unfortunately, Mercer doesn't agree, and it's not like Brynjolf's latest attempts at recruiting have gone well. But when he meets a stranger in the marketplace one morning, he's willing to take the risk and bring her on board....only time will tell if his gamble pays off.

Chapter Summary: Facing the wrong end of a bandit's sword, Brynjolf must rely on his wit if he and Ariene want to make it out of this crypt alive.

Content: Brynjolf POV, Thieves Guild quest spoilers, game typical violence.

Ships: Brynjolf x Dragonborn OC (slowburn)

Word Count: 2,965

Check the reblogs for a link to read on AO3!

— — —

Brynjolf had lost track of the number of times over the years that he’d been threatened. No thief, no matter how skilled they were, could avoid being found out on a job from time to time, and Brynjolf was no exception to that. Getting caught wasn’t what ended a heist, it was how you handled getting caught.

So even as he knelt in an ancient crypt, the blade of a bandit leader’s sword pressed against his throat, Brynjolf forced himself not to panic. Gallus’s teachings echoed in his mind. 

Take stock of your surroundings, identify your assets. What are your options?

Fighting was out of the question. He couldn’t even stand, not when the slightest movement might set the woman off. She was ranting about disloyalty and laziness and greed, almost more to herself than the pair of them. Brynjolf risked a look behind him at Ariene. She stood with her hands held up in surrender, her face pinched in worry. 

The lass was quick; if Brynjolf kept the bandit distracted enough then he had no doubt she’d make a move. His mind wandered back to the letter he’d read in the last chamber. It had been signed by someone called Rigel Strong-Arm, which was very likely the woman before them. Was there something in it he could use? He took a deep breath, and turned his focus back to what she was saying. 

“...what I did to Roar obviously wasn’t harsh enough. I’ll show those good for nothing louts what happens when they mess with me! So who was it? Who hired you?” 

“Hired us?” Brynjolf repeated, and Rigel snarled. 

“No bullshitting, you hear? That armor you’re wearing’s no good for banditing, it’s for sneaking around all quiet like! They couldn’t get past my traps themselves so they thought they’d hire thieves to steal my treasure, but nothing gets past me! Now tell me who hired you, and I’ll do you the courtesy of making your death painless.” 

“Your crew didn’t hire us,” Ariene said, and Rigel laughed. 

“I said no bullshit,” she said. “Why would thieves come to a bandit camp unless you were hired? Now give me a name, or this one starts losing blood.” 

Brynjolf’s mind raced. What could he say to appease her? He focused on his memory of the letter, trying to pull out any useful information, and a line flitted into his head. 

Your 'little sabrecat' has a tidy operation out here and I'm not going to give it up just cause you're afraid of getting caught.

“I’m not bullshitting you,” Ariene was saying, her voice tight. “Your crew didn’t hire–”

“It was your father,” Brynjolf blurted out, and Ariene paused, glancing at him. He made a show of shrugging, and held out his hands. “Look lass, I know he swore us to secrecy, but he hasn’t paid us enough for me to bleed for him.” He looked up at Rigel, whose eyes had gone wide. 

“Da? No, that doesn’t make any sense–”

“It was him,” Brynjolf insisted. “He said his little sabrecat needed taming.” 

The woman reeled back, shock and anger written on her face, and Brynjolf slowly got to his feet, hands raised where she could see them. He had to keep her attention focused on him. What else had the letter said? 

Oh, and quit trying to send back the money. 

“Since you wouldn’t let him send back the money you gave, he used it to hire us,” Brynjolf said carefully. “He thought that if your stash was raided, if you were left penniless, then you’d become discouraged and give up this life. You know he doesn’t approve.”

“He’s never approved of anything I’ve done in my life,” Rigel nearly shouted. “Anyway, what does he know? I could easily make back anything you tried to take in less than a month. I wouldn’t just give up.” 

“With no payment to give your crew?” Brynjolf countered. 

He risked taking a step forward and Rigel brandished her sword, bringing him to a halt. 

“They barely trust you as a leader,” he continued. “They obviously don’t respect you. How could you guarantee their loyalty without the promise of coin?”

“I don’t need their loyalty,” she spat. “I just need them to do their jobs and stay out of my way.” 

“But can you count on men to do that when you can’t pay them?” Brynjolf asked. He heard a quiet *shink* from behind him and he took another step forward. “Face it lass, you’re barely holding this operation together.”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” Rigel said. “Even if you did manage to rob me, it’d only take one successful raid for things to go right back to the way they were.”

“Your father–”

“My father is a fool!” she interrupted with a shout. “He shouldn’t have wasted the money on your corpses.” 

Rigel lifted her sword up, preparing to bring it down in a killing blow, and in that instant, Brynjolf realized he’d made a mistake. His arms were still held out in front of him and he was standing too close to the bandit leader…he had no time to draw his weapon and no room in the tight space to dodge past the attack. The sword swung down and he lurched backward, hands flying up instinctively to shield his face, though he knew it would be no use. 

He braced himself for the pain…but it never came. Instead the cavern echoed with the clang of steel hitting steel, and Brynjolf inhaled sharply.

Ariene had appeared in front of him in the blink of an eye and blocked Rigel’s strike with her steel dagger. The force of the blow sent her staggering back, but she managed to parry the larger blade away despite her lack of footing. She righted herself just in time to dodge another swing, and lashed out with a kick to the bandit’s abdomen. 

Rigel grunted in pain but stayed upright, and as she prepared to swing her sword again Ariene shifted her stance. As Rigel attacked, Ariene moved in close and caught the hilt of the bandit’s sword between her blades, just as Brynjolf had shown her back in the Guild’s training room. 

She twisted her weapons, wrenching Rigel’s sword from her hand, but the strain of the maneuver was too much for the cheap steel dagger she was using. The blade snapped under the force of the sword and Ariene yelped, letting the dagger fall next to the sword with a clatter

Rigel looked between her sword and Ariene, who now stood armed with only one of her daggers. Brynjolf could see the moment that an idea formed in the bandit’s head, and his hand moved to his own weapons. 

“Don’t try it lass,” he warned, but Rigel ignored him. 

She darted forward, arm stretched out to retrieve her sword. Brynjolf drew his daggers, but by then, it didn’t matter. In one quick motion, Ariene slashed her blade across Rigel’s throat. Blood sprayed from the wound and the bandit’s eyes widened in shock before slowly rolling back into her head as she crumpled to the ground, dead.

The utter stillness that follows battle fell over the room, and for a moment, Brynjolf was aware only of the sound of his own heartbeat thumping in his ears. Then Ariene let out a loud sigh of relief, breaking the spell. She leaned over and rested against her knees, and Brynjolf winced, unable to help the twist of guilt he felt in his stomach. 

That had been close…too close. How had they missed checking the back of the previous chamber? Why hadn’t one of them heard Rigel sneaking up on them? He was a Guild lieutenant, he should have had better control over the situation.

“Well,” Ariene said breathlessly. “I guess I owe Cynric a new dagger.” 

She knelt and retrieved her fallen weapon, turning it in her hands and staring at the shattered blade. 

“I don’t think the lad will mind too much,” Brynjolf said absently. 

What had come over him? Unbidden, something Delvin had once said to him in the Ragged Flagon came to the front of his mind.

“Whatever’s going on with the Guild is beyond just you and me.” 

Brynjolf had never put much stock in the old man’s insistence that they were cursed…but then again, he hadn’t been out in the field much since the run of bad luck had gotten really bad. Could there be credence to the curse after all? 

“Look what we have here.” Ariene said, pulling him from his thoughts. She’d moved to examine Rigel’s body, and held up a small key ring that she found on the bandit’s belt. “How much would you bet that one of these keys is for this door?” she asked. 

Brynjolf made a noncommittal noise, and Ariene frowned. 

“Bryn?” she asked, getting to her feet. “Is everything alright?” 

He let out a hollow laugh, and shook his head. Regardless of why it had happened, the simple fact was that he had messed up severely, and it had nearly cost both of them their lives.

“I should be asking you that question, lass.” 

“Why?” Ariene asked, tilting her head. “You’re the one who almost got hacked to pieces by that maniac.” 

“And you’re the one who had to step in to stop her,” Brynjolf countered. “All because I wasn’t quick enough on my own.” He took a deep breath, and met her eyes. “I know how you feel about killing, lass. And I’m sorry that you had to on my account. For what it’s worth, I owe you a debt. You saved my life.” 

Ariene met his gaze, an unreadable expression on her face. She fiddled with the keys in her hands, the soft clink of the metal deafening in the silence that had fallen between them. She opened her mouth, then closed it again with a grimace and pushed herself to her feet. 

“It’s not…I don’t have a problem with killing, exactly,” she said finally. “The world is a dangerous place, and I’ll do what I have to do to survive it. It’s…” 

She sighed, shaking her head, and Brynjolf felt another stab of guilt.

“Lass, I–” 

“Do you have any idea what it’s like to not have any control over your life?” she asked suddenly, the words practically exploding out of her. “To have the world decide who you are and what you’ll be, just because of what you can do? I didn’t ask to be good at killing. I just am, and everywhere I go someone thinks they can use me because of it.” 

She threw the pieces of her broken dagger back down on the ground, a look of disgust on her face. 

“First my father thought he could keep me tied to him, then Legate Aetius thought he could exploit my criminal history, and then I finally get away from Cyrodiil and apparently the universe itself has its own idea of what–” 

She stopped abruptly and took a shuddering breath in, calming herself. Brynjolf stared at her, shocked by the outburst, and she shot him a wan smile. 

“I didn’t expect the Guild to be any different, at first. I made a promise to myself when I deserted: that I wouldn’t let myself live under anyone else’s thumb anymore. So after the debacle at Goldenglow, I was fully prepared to pack my bags and disappear again.”  

“Why didn’t you?” 

“Well…you,” she admitted. 

A blush spread across her face, and the sight made the knot of guilt in Brynjolf’s stomach loosen ever so slightly. 

“What you said when I got back, I mean,” Ariene continued hurriedly. “The fact that you took my side, that you were willing to go against Mercer on my behalf, even though I’d just joined…I decided to stay and give the Guild another chance.” 

“Well I’m glad you did, lass,” Brynjolf said before he could stop himself. His own cheeks warmed, but the small smile that Ariene gave him in return was worth the embarrassment that came with being earnest. 

“Me too,” she said quietly. Then she took a sharp breath, as if clearing her head. “Now, let’s finish this job and get out of here. I’ve had enough of old ruins for one day.” 

After a few attempts, they found the right key on Rigel’s ring to unlock the chamber’s  door and were able to make their way through. The bandit leader had clearly been paranoid, as the corridors that followed were riddled with booby traps, though Brynjolf and Ariene didn’t have any trouble avoiding them. They were rewarded at the end with the bandits’ cache of valuables, which included the silver mold that the Guild had been hired to retrieve.

They quickly scouted ahead, only to find that the tunnels had looped them back to the large open cavern that led back to the woodcutter’s hut. They returned to the treasure room and cleaned out the cache, taking the mold and as much of the loot as they could carry between them. By the time they emerged back into the forest, the late day sun was streaming through the branches overhead. 

Ariene looked up, raising one hand to shield her eyes against the afternoon light, and swore under her breath. 

“It’s later than I thought…I won’t be able to make Old Hroldan Inn before nightfall and I don’t have any camping supplies. I’ll have to stay one more night in Falkreath.” She sighed, shaking her head. “I was hoping to avoid any more run-ins with Legate Skulnar before this job was done.”

“Tell you what, lass,” Brynjolf said as they started down the road back to town. “Take my horse. You have further to travel anyway; it makes more sense for you to ride than it does for me to. I can make it to Riverwood on foot tonight.”

“Oh, I can’t make you do that,” Ariene began, but Brynjolf shook his head. 

“There’s no use arguing, lass, my mind’s made up. Besides, this way you can use the saddlebags to take the bulk of this treasure haul up to Markarth with you. Sell as much as you can legally and bring the earnings home. It’ll be good to bring some clean coin into the Guild’s coffers.” 

They made it back to Dead Man’s Drink, and set about packing the horse’s saddlebags with the jewelry, metal ingots, and gemstones that Ariene would sell in Markarth. Brynjolf loaded the septims into his own pack, along with a few items that he knew Tonillia would be interested in. 

“Hopefully showing up with a sack load of coin will be enough to soothe Mercer’s temper,” he said casually, and Ariene looked up at him, a frown on her face. 

“Did he give you a hard time over coming here?” she asked, and Brynjolf nodded. 

“He did, but don’t let it bother you. He gives me a hard time over just about everything these days.” 

“Maybe you should take the horse,” Ariene said. “You could get back sooner that way, and–”

“You need it more than I do, lass,” Brynjolf interrupted. “Besides, it’s not like there’s been anything for me to do back at the Guild. The city’s been on high alert since that little mishap in the market. Mercer just likes to take his problems out on me, I can handle it.” 

Ariene looked at him for a moment, hesitation written on her face, before she said quietly,

“Someone very clever recently told me that just because you can handle something on your own doesn’t mean you should have to.” 

Brynjolf raised an eyebrow, a playful grin pulling at the edge of his mouth. 

“You think I’m clever?” he asked, and Ariene rolled her eyes. 

“I was being serious, Brynjolf!” she chided, and he laughed. 

“I know lass, I know.” He softened, and took a step closer. “And I appreciate the sentiment. But it’ll be fine, I promise. I know how to deal with Mercer’s moods. And one of the quickest ways to cheer him up is with a lot of coin.” 

Ariene looked into his eyes for a long moment, as though searching for some hidden truth there. Finally, she nodded

“You sure I can’t convince you to take the horse?” she asked, and Brynjolf shook his head. 

“I’m afraid not, lass. The beast is yours, at least until you get back to Riften.” 

 “Very well,” she said with an overly dramatic sigh.

Ariene swung herself into the saddle with ease, and Brynjolf had to tilt his head back to meet her eyes. 

“Take care of yourself out there,” he said, and she nodded, gathering up the reins. 

“Hopefully I’ll only be a few days. We’ll get to have that drink of ours eventually.” 

“Is that a promise?” Brynjolf asked with a smirk, and Ariene raised an eyebrow. 

“I never make promises,” she said simply. “There are fewer disappointments that way.” 

With that, she dug her heels into the horse’s side and it broke into a brisk trot. Brynjolf watched her ride away until she turned around a bend in the road and was out of sight. 

Gods above, he thought, I really am gone on this woman, aren’t I?

He shook himself and hoisted his knapsack onto his shoulders, turning to take the northern route out of town. His usual temper aside, Brynjolf couldn’t see any real reason why Mercer would be upset with how this venture had gone. They’d fulfilled the client’s wishes, and made a tidy little profit on top of that. Maybe even enough to do something about the extra patrol problem they were having. 

Brynjolf set off down the road, and for the first time in a long time, he actually felt optimistic about the future.

— — —

Author's Notes: Optimism! Cuteness! Nothing Ominous on the horizon at all! :D :D :D (I am very excited for the next few chapters, they're what this whole fic has been leading up to in my mind)

[encrucijada]

infodump abt pathetic man adam

funniest ask i've ever gotten. no context. anonymous. a simple request.

a list of things i think i haven't talked about regarding adam, some that i have, from both the pjoverse and dreamersverse:

adam is actually pretty decent around kids. he was second in command of the apollo cabin for 5ish years before his brother lee fletcher died in the battle of the labyrinth and he was made counsellor for the battle of manhattan. adam is like that cool older brother in a 90s tv show who lets you drink beer when you shouldn't have.

in both verses he works at a bar. both as a bartender and as entertainment, depends on the day of the week. he does gigs elsewhere when he can. forewent university, didn't think he had the brain for it because of his frankly debilitating adhd. adam barely graduated high school.

weapon of choice in the pjoverse is the recurve bow because son of apollo. is capable of fighting melee (with a sword) if the situation demands it, but just barely. in the dreamersverse it's actually the opposite, he doesn't shoot with a bow at all and prefers to have something he can brute force hit things with.

speaking of debilitating adhd. adam is always fidgeting even if just a little, rarely does his leg stop bouncing and he has a clicker toy he carries in his pocket. plays around with rubix cubes not to solve them but just to spin them around. hums songs as a stim (<- he shares this one with piedad). cannot function without caffeine.

has the talent but not the creativity. can sing just about anything but not write any of his own music.

in the pjoverse he avoids singing in uncontrolled environments, because even having control over his powers he never knows if he could cause some weird side effects. only feels truly unrestrained in battle or at camp.

adam is the way he is because i was trying super hard not to make your typical "golden boy" son of apollo. also because i found the loveless cover of middle of the night. my hand accidentally slipped and now... he's this.

my best friend irl called him "cold, cutting, and prideful".

i dunno about pjoverse adam but dreamersverse adam's got a couple of tattoos. including but not limited to: a sun on his forearm, wings from his shoulder blades to the backs of his arms, a hawk eating a rabbit, three stars on his ribs, and my notes says i'm giving him a sleeve tattoo.

he never participated in a proper quest but he was there for every single bead that's on annabeth's camp necklace. was already at camp when luke first arrived.

his fatal flaw is arrogance ("however bright you shine, i shine brighter")

has a substantial collection of scars as every demigod does but of note we've got: on his cheekbone, going down from his collarbone, the stab scar on his gut. these also translate to the dreamersverse.

the only thing he got from apollo appearance-wise are the eyes. adam tends to let his hair get long until he starts considering it obnoxious, then he asks the aphrodite cabin to cut it. if you're in cabin 7 and have had hairclips gone missing, he probably took them.

if you've read pt.1 of pointed north you know candy calls adam "mi príncipe". this means "my prince."

i might be giving him brown eyes in keep staring.

his last names are flipped depending on the verse! pjoverse he's adam rubio guerra, since rubio means "fair-haired" and i thought it sounded like a child of apollo lastname. in the dreamersverse he's adam guerra rubio, guerra means "war".

has always wanted a dog.

having a weighed blanket would cure him but he doesn't know this. what he does know is he sleeps best when piedad lays on top of him.

broke his nose and it never healed quite right.

never dare him to do something while he's drunk. he will do it, no matter how dangerous it might be. the safest thing he could be doing post-break up is making out with whoever gives him attention while inebriated.

[aralezinspace]

Emboss

~AO3~ Ezio/Reader, mildly suggestive.

Kinktober prompt: Leather

Kinktober masterlist

You had never been able to restrain yourself when Ezio came home from a mission, especially if he had been gone for more than a few days. On this particular occasion, he had been gone just shy of a month, long enough for you to become frantic with concern.

You were about to hunt down any and all of his associates in Roma and demand to know if they had heard from your partner. The moment you were ready to leave, you heard the clatter and creak of the door opening, followed by the clump of boots on the floor and a deep, groaning sigh you’d know anywhere.

“Ezio!” you called, racing down the stairs. He was leaning against the closed door, his eyes half-lidded. They shot open and a delighted, ravenous grin split his face open when he heard your voice.

Ezio didn’t even bother greeting you before grabbing your arms and turning you so you were trapped between him and the closed door. He attacked your lips with a desperate growl, shoving his tongue into your mouth to taste every inch of you.

“I missed you,” he rasped, sliding his lips down to mouth at your neck. Your hands pushed his hood back, revealing dark hair neatly tied with a fading red ribbon. You dug your fingers into the muscles of his shoulders and gently pushed him back. He frowned in warning.

“Let me look at you,” you urged him gently. Your eyes traveled quickly from his head to his toes, stopping briefly where you knew vital organs were, searching for any injuries. On the second pass, you did a double take, your eyes going wide and a red flush burning your cheeks.

Over his customary white robes, Ezio was sporting a brand new set of armor- vambraces, a chest piece, greaves, and a thick belt about his waist, all in deep brown leather. It was shiny and hardly scuffed- all you could see were a few scratches from the hilt of his sword brushing over the chest piece as he moved, and a few scrapes on the vambraces from his hidden blades. The vambraces and greaves had the Assassin insignia embossed onto them, surrounded by artful swirls that would not look out of place on a coat of arms.

Heat began to coil low in your belly as your fingertips ghosted over the smooth leather. The material was warm from the sun and the heat of Ezio’s body, the buckles that held it all together somehow still cold. The smell of the leather and conditioning oil stuck in your nose with a sharp tang. You bit your lip as your touches became more insistent, questing over the armor, gently pressing in to hear the slightest creak of material.

You bit your bottom lip and tilted your gaze back up to Ezio’s face: the look he was giving you was nothing short of blazing, eyes dark and narrowed, the tendons in his neck trying to break out of his skin with the effort it took to maintain his self control.

The man before you was a force of nature wrapped in linen and leather. His choice of material was a testament to the knowledge of his own skills: he didn’t need to encumber himself with plate armor, for no opponent had even the slightest chance of landing a blow. It was built for stealth and speed, light and flexible- the armor of a man who could vanish into the night before his target even knew they were dead.

“I take it you approve?” he purred slowly, a positively feral smile spreading across his face. You nodded twice- short of breath, mouth dry, knees weak. Ezio stepped in closer.

He took your wrists in one hand and pinned them to the door above your head, while the other pressed his leather-clad forearm to your throat, forcing you to lift your chin just enough for him to see your muscles work as you swallowed hard. Arousal flared through you; being the sole focus of this man, one whom the word ‘dangerous’ didn’t even begin to cover, was a heady feeling you couldn’t get enough of.

“Well then, caro mio…” He rolled his hips into yours, a startled whimper bubbling out of you as your legs turned to jelly. His breathy growl sent a shiver down your spine.

“Why don’t you show me how much.”

[the-fiction-witch]

The Queen of Thorns P2

Media IRL X Fantasy / DND

Character Thomas Brodie Sangster

Couple Thomas X Reader

Rating Intense SMUT

I headed off to a local town to buy supplies from an apothecary, He took the list I made up and seemed perplexed. 

He stood behind the counter, tall and wide with a braided red beard. He cocked his eyebrow at me, then glanced back to the list. 

"Where are you going?" He said, 

"On a quest." 

"Yeah, where? Do you need ten sanitizing potions? You need a Gardening sword? You need a full chain mail suit?" He asked, "You fighting a freaking grass dragon or something?" 

"No, look you have the stuff or not?"

"Alright," he nodded as he headed around the shop to gather things up for me, "I don't like prying but, what are you doing?" he asked, 

"Going on a quest."

"Where?"

"The castle, in Auntallia,"

"The thorn castle?" He asked, "You're Going to the thorn castle?" he asked as he brought everything over,

"I am. I'm going to save the Queen of Thorns." 

"Well... I'm not talking myself out of a sale," He sighed, "eighteen gold kid."

"I'm thirty-three?" I complained handed him the money over, 

"Ohh? You some kinda half-elf?"

"No,"

"You must have one hell of a de-ageing potion."

"I don't."

"...Whatever," he said giving me back my change, 

"I take it you know something about The Thorn Castle?"

"Yeah, I do."

"Go on?"

"I've sold a lot of stuff to people over the years, saying they are going up to the thorn castle," He said, "How many do you think I've seen go?"

"Hundred?"

"Eight hundred and nine."

"Lot of people."

"how many do you think I've seen come back?"

"four hundred?"

"Zero."

"Ohhh dear..."

"How many do you think are dead?"

"Two hundred?"

"All of them." 

"Ah..."

"Most don't get halfway through the forest of thorns."

"Why not?"

"The thorns are alive, they grow in the moonlight, they wind and strangle anyone who comes in there, any vine you cut three more grow from the stump, the castle doors haven't been opened it god knows how long. You're gonna die in that thorn forest." 

"Thanks for the encouragement." I sighed, as I took my stuff and headed out. 

I returned to the little town and headed up to the thorn castle, and prepared all my stuff for this. 

"Hu, that uhhh that's taller than I thought it was," I muttered, I assumed this would be normal castle size but this was huge... and the thorn woods overgrown the castle. "Well... I said I was gonna do it." I sighed, as I took my sword and prepared myself, for the hellish hydra steams, the sharp thorns cutting my every inch, the intense insanity of stress and rage that I would have to work through. "Come on thomas, now's not the time to get a limp dick." 

I did a first strike at the thorns and it seemed to stay cut long enough for me to head inside, slowly but surely cutting myself a path through the thick towering rose steams, doing my best to avoid the thorns cutting me open, until I found the castle door. 

"hu... That was, deceptively simple." I said, from what everyone had hyped up I was expecting this to be considerably harder. But I'm not complaining, I forced open the heavy castle doors, and headed inside the grey stone castle.

The place was empty, covered in cobwebs, dust and where the thorns had broken through. I walked through for a little while my sword dragged across the floor the sound rang out through the castle.

"Now... where's the queen?" I muttered as I wandered the corridors but I stopped short as I saw a sign on the wall with arrows in various directions,

'kitchens downstairs'

'Throne room Left'

'Royal ballroom right' 

'Queen's Chamber, In the tower.'

"Hu... Convenient." I said, so I followed the signs up to the tower slowly walking up the spiral staircase to the wooden door open a crack. 

I held my breath a moment leaving my armour and sword by the door as I headed in, The room was huge with grand red and green fabrics lining it, a green flame still burning in the fireplace, fairy lanterns littered around the room, giving the place a sweet glow, a large arched window at the end of the room where moonlight flooded in, A canopy bed in the centre with beautiful sheer curtains. I walked over slowly to see her.

The Thorn Queen.

She laid gracefully on top of the black sheets embroidered with roses, her head on a satin pillow, she wore a beautiful green dress with a skirt long enough to be off the bed, the top of the dress had long sleeves, and a neckline that plunged... well uhhh to her stomach. them sitting there so beautiful and invitingly nipples hard to the cold, a tattoo on her sternum of an intricate rose wrapped in thorns, her hands on her stomach with a red ring on her finger, her hair in a tight braid with a silver thorn style circlet resting softly in her hair. 

Holy god! she's beautiful! 

Immediately I was breathless, I was lost in a world of admiration, and I was fucking horny! 

Who wouldn't be!

Kiss the queen! Right! yes, the one thing I came here to do! how uhh how do I do this? I've never done this before... 

I slowly moved onto the bed and couldn't help but smile at her, I moved closer to loom over her, I gently stroked her cheek running my thumb across her sweet skin unable to look away from those rose-coloured lips, my other hand settled on her waist but had a mind of its own slowly slipping up her dress and I blushed as I pushed back her dress to reveal her perky tits, her nipples hard to the cold air, I didn't waste such a chance and I softly cupped her breast "Uhh" I gasped, as I felt the elegant softness of her breast by now my face completely red, but I fixed her dress and took a deep breath before I kissed her. 

She tasted like rose water, and she felt warm, and soft. 

I pulled back but nothing seemed to have happened, I waited but still nothing. 

So I kissed her again.

And still nothing. 

Did I uhh... did I not do it right? 

I gave her another kiss as a final try but nothing, So I sighed and gave up getting off the bed and going to leave

"Huuuuu!" she gasped sitting up 

"AHhhh fuck!" I yelped in shock as she made me jump- 

She saw me and a rather wicked smile went across her lips, she chuckled in a sly tone as she spoke to me "Ummm, You must be my handsome knight." 

"Yes." my voice cracked, "Yes. Yes uhh Yes Your Highness I am." I said doing my best strong handsome voice, 

"Ohh wonderful, I've been waiting so long for someone to come and break my curse." She cooed, took my hand and tugged me into the bed with her, "My, my, I didn't imagine my saviour being quite so handsome." She smiled as she laid me on her bed much in the position she was with her now looming over me and stroking my shirt with her fingers 

"Ohh well uhh thank you, My Queen." 

"Aww sweet and handsome," She smiled, "You know, I had always told myself that, whatever handsome knight came and broke my smell would get to take my flower." 

"You're flower? Ohh like the flower the sorcerer wanted?" 

"No," she giggled as she sat on my thighs and tugged down the top of her dress to her waist to fully reveal her breasts "My flower." She cooed, 

"OOhhh... UHhhhhhhhhh.... My queen I uhh I uhh I do not need such a reward I uhh it's not necessary" I blushed, unable to stop looking at her. Even if pretty much every single part of my brain was screaming at me 'Yes it fucking is! TAKE THE REWARD DUMBASS! How many times in your life are you gonna get to fuck a queen!' 

"Oohh please, I simply must give you something for your hard work. and I know you like these." She smirked moving my hand to her breasts 

"I uhhhhh I uhhh I do..." I nodded, "Ohh my god you feel so good-" 

she giggled, "So? Will my handsome knight take his reward?"

"I uhh I would but uhh we don't want to rush anything I uihh I don't even know your name."

"Y/n, and you are?"

"Thomas."

"Well, shall we then thomas?" She smirked stroking across my erection through my trousers,

"I uhhhhh i ughhhh-" I fought back moans, 

"It's why you here isn't it? to save the queen and claim your rewards" She smirked pulling me to kiss her, I happily kissed her back our kisses intense and passionate turning into heavy makeouts almost immediately I quickly melted into her heavenly touch both my hands grabbed her breasts and I let her touch me wherever she wanted, "Humm that's better, Lets have a look see then." She giggled unlacing my trousers until she pulled out my stiff erection, She giggled which didn't fill me with confidence, as she ran her hand from my hilt to my tip causing my erection to tremble and slightly throb for her, "Oh my, very impressive." She smirked she moved my hands away from her breasts and cradled me in her arms so I could rest my head on her shoulder as she stroked my erection a few times her tiny touching caused my whole body to tremble for her which made her giggle at me, "You're cute," She smiled rubbing her nose on mine "Shall we my knight?"

"Yes My queen," I gasped,

She began to hold me firmer and began her gentle playing, stroking me carefully and skillfully you'd think she'd done this a hundred times, I couldn't help but throw my head back in pleasure gripping her waist and the sheets, 

"Uhh... UUghh... Umm, Ughh... UUuh... My Queen... ummmm!" I moaned at her impressive work, 

She pulled me into another intense kiss and I happily kissed back our kisses open and often fighting to explore one another she even bit and sucked my tongue a little as she worked, she pulled away from the kiss as her hand got faster 

"UUUghhh! UUuhhh! Uuuhh... UUummmm My Queen! Uuuhhh!" I moaned them getting louder and throatier, I was getting more desperate, craving her touch, her kiss, her everything. 

"Umm This is fun." She giggled between my moans, 

"Uhhh You enjoying me my queen?" 

"Very much, But my knight needs his reward." She cooed moving away to sit on her knees and remove her dress leaving her naked I didn't even have time to say anything before she stroked my shaft adjusting herself to sit over me with her legs wide apart "Don't worry to be gentle my knight, I want you to enjoy yourself" She cooed, as she guided me to stroke down her pussy before slipping inside, she didn't hesitate to let me slip hilt deep inside of her "Ughhhh! Ohh Thomas!"

"UUghhhh Y/n! My queen!" I groaned feeling her, she felt so good! "Ahhh! uughhhh!"

She smiled and let me move my hand to her hip and the other to her breast, I didn't argue holding her hip to guide her how I wanted her even if she didn't need my instruction she was doing just fine on her own, my other hand playing with her breast as she moved letting me slip from hilt to tip over and over each time feeling her get wetter, and tighter for me, My moans filled the whole castle as she rode me mercilessly I tried a few times to kiss her or please her but she would always return my hands and kept going until I couldn't take it anymore, I grabbed her hips hard and pulled her tight to my chest grabbing her arse and thrusting up inside of her which caused her moans "Ohh my! sweet little knight," she cooed seeing me this way,

"It's what you've done to me, my queen." I gasped pulling her into a kiss, 

"Ummm so cute," she giggled 

"UUughhhhhhhhhh! Please! Y/n! My queen, I'm close!"

So once again she took over using her royal body for the one purpose, of pleasing me. And fuck was she good at it! moving herself fast and hard without concern or a moment of rest. 

"UUUGhhhhhhhh! AHhhhhh! UUuuuuuuughhhh!" I moaned collapsing against her pillow as I filled her completely to the point it even began to spill out of her, I was bright red, gasping for breath, lost in utter sweetness, I don't think I'd ever felt sex that good in my life! 

She chuckled with an evil grin "What a sweet little thing you are," she cooed kissing my jaw, "So sweet, almost makes me forget you taking advantage of me."

I was still lost in pleasure but her words confused me, take advantage of her? when did I? Wait... She knows I- she knows I toucher her! before I kissed her! but if she knows that... she 

She wasn't asleep. 

She! she was awake the whole time she...

Oh my god. 

There is no curse... 

She's the one you cursed the castle...

SHE'S THE SORCERESS!

She knew by my face I had figured it out and tried to stop me but I pushed her away and bolted out the bed trying to fix my trousers as I went but I barely got half way across the room before the thorn-covered steams wrapped around my ankle forcing me to the floor 

"Now now, why are you running my sweet knight" She smirked, 

"No! No! Please!" I begged trying to crawl away but the vine gripped me and dragged me back to her bed "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" 

[yiga-hellhole]

TWILIGHT FOREST, TWILIGHT KING: CHAPTER 15

AND IT'S OUT! i've been going ravenous with writing. you lot aren't rid of me yet!! with he siege on Death Mountain now behind them, two co-lieutenants struggle with the consequences of their failures. trust shatters, foundations wobble, and fond memories are under threat. should the campaign move forward, petty distractions must be done away with.

or, you know, you can dance with your boy.

again thank you to @bulgariansumo for proofreading. this chapter is best enjoyed with a bit of moody piano music, but i took a liking to this playlist personally so you can listen along while you read, if you like! 8.6k-ish under the cut! iiiit's a fun one!

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10

ao3 mirror

Their gathering was grim. Sounds of celebration rang from the tents outside, but in the war room, there was nothing but silence. Two co-lieutenants stood at the center of it all, the eyes of their generals upon them. Anxiety, dread, and ultimatum. The Demon King had summoned them for a reason.

“For one so eager to win my praise, you certainly are adamant to disappoint me. It seems I must set an example for you.”

Ghirahim stood stock-still as Ganondorf stepped towards him, his massive frame towering over him like the very Mountain he’d failed him on. He flinched but did not step away as he snatched his wrist and wrenched it above his head. A groan escaped him when he was lifted off his feet, all of his weight dangling from this one arm. He hung mere inches from his face. The Demon King’s eyes were blazing with rage, his tusks bared with the snarling curl of his lip. He was frozen yet scorched by those burning yellow irises, drawn into the gold that swirled within.

“Such sickening submission. You wish to be a blade? Very well. Let me show you where the mercy of my hands will take you.”

The hand at his wrist squeezed firmly, hard enough to crack his false skin, but he didn’t have long enough to dwell on the feeling. From that very gauntlet, a searing pain burst out and soon spread throughout his entire body. Shocks of electrocution ricocheted inside him, persistent and thorough in their surging quest to tear him to pieces. Every joint he had tightened. His fingers contorted into claws and his head threw back, mouth agape in a soundless scream — though, if he had screamed, he never would have heard it. It was an untold pain, of being struck with a thousand whips that would not cease. His skin shed, or rather, burst apart before his very eyes. Soon after, his vision went white, whether from pain alone or complete system failure. Something cracked ominously in his chest. Like it was trying to jump out and abandon him, leaving nothing but a husk to be beaten. He was shattering, he knew it, not in his core but in the shell forged around it. One last zap, one crackle, and a deafening drone, and he came undone. 

At once, he folded in on himself, and the world went black.

—

When Ghirahim awoke, he was limbless. Even if he could not so much as crane his head or twitch his fingers, the feeling comforted him more than it shocked him. Indeed, he had gotten his wish, but not in the way he’d wanted it. Master Ganondorf had reverted him to his sword. Not pulled him free from his chest, as his predecessor had always done, but tore apart the scabbard around him and forced it inside. 

His gem blinked weakly, chimed inquiringly. Where was he? It was pitch dark around him, but his confinement couldn’t be all too large. He found himself in what he concluded could only be some kind of storage box, locked away in some secluded room who-knows-where. It was dead silent — wherever he lay hidden away, with his steel tucked in straw and creaky wood, not even servants lingered.

But before he could sink himself into gloom, a spark of panic lit up in him. Soon, it billowed out enough to rattle him in his hilt. Had he been retired? Discarded from his position, or worse, sold to whoever would take a cursed blade off his hands? 

Were he to leave this coffin, would he find himself buried six feet deep?

His false skin materialized back around his blade before he realized it, and began frantically kicking at the lid of this accursed box. Wood groaned, nails wrenched free, and soon, he could press his palms to the ceiling and throw it out his way.

He shot up and took in his surroundings. Circling his container were various other crates, of which none fortunately barred his exit. Perhaps his awakening and subsequent escape were accounted for and his way was left clear for that very reason. 

Only then did he notice himself panting. Knees pressed to his chest, he stared down into his casket. His hands found the center of his chest. He hadn’t been shattered, nor did he feel like anything impaired him. By all means, he could count his blessings. Despite disobeying orders, despite failing at their mission, Master Ganondorf had permitted him to continue his duty. All he’d done was set an example, as he promised.

But then, what was it that shook his hands so? What filled him with such hollow melancholy?

Tiring of this drab, dust-covered storage room, he swung one leg over the edge of the crate and clambered his way down. Now that he’d awakened, he at least had to find out where the transport had carried him. He stumbled toward the door — to find it unlocked — and promptly left that storage hole behind him.

His feet landed on a checkered floor, its tiles cracked in various locations but caulked back in place. The walls were in a similar state; opulent in their make, but damaged throughout various sieges. Various, indeed. It didn’t take much to find out where he was. He has walked these halls as both ally and foe. As he padded on through them once again, he took some time to note the differences since his last visit. Here and there, signs of scuffle were cracked into the stone, and dust-free rectangles upon the walls hinted that paintings once hung here. The dreary, yet tastefully ominous dark purple light of the place was all too iconic, as were the rogue rose branches that persisted through the windows. They had taken him to the Temple of Souls, better known as Cia’s private home and former base of operations.

Yes, he remembered dwelling here. With some luck, his old room was still in place as he’d left it. Back then, Cia had bribed him with all sorts of knick-knacks and luxuries in the hope of appeasing him, and it had worked. He wondered if the vices of his materialism would still appeal to him now. 

He continued onward, making his way through the puzzling architecture. There wasn’t a particular goal in mind as to where he was heading. Some manner of purpose, a duty to attend to, or an idea as to how long he’d been slumbering in that box at the least. A heavy wooden door opened to a porch outside, clung to a tower with a spiral staircase down. He idly pondered the oddity of the lack of servants he’d encountered as he made his way down. Had the Master sent him there in solitude? Such abandonment was an unbearable thought. No matter if he’d left him the world in silks and marbles, he wouldn’t be left alone. Wouldn’t be left without purpose. He continued down the path, trudging its petal-strewn floors. The air was pink with sundown and roses, rich and floral with scented dew, but he paid it no mind.

Out chimed a familiar, lilting voice, coming from outside the colonnade. “Ghirahim!”

Shaken from a daze, he looked to his left, eyes still hooded over. There stood Yuga, decked in corset and frills with a bonnet covering his curls, a watering can in hand. “You’ve awoken at last! Oh, how relieved I am to see you.”

Ghirahim simply stared back, mind empty of any response. What was he supposed to say? There stood a man who had witnessed him at his weakest, who had seen how easily he’d shattered to pieces. It astounded Ghirahim that after all that, he still hailed him, expecting mere smalltalk. At least he wasn’t alone. Ganondorf wouldn’t retire Yuga after a successful campaign. He took momentary solace in the possibility of a simple relocation. Yet, the fondness he once felt for that foppish sorcerer remained abstract in his mind and passed right through him like an arrow through fog.

When it dawned on Yuga that he had no intention of approaching him, a stiff, worried frown tightened his brows, sucked in his lips. 

What was that look for? 

Front of his skirt bunched in his sheer gloved hand, Yuga trotted on towards him. Up the stairs, and into the colonnade, he hooked his arm around his. Ghirahim looked down at the contact he’d pulled him in, a touch puzzled, but he didn’t find the need to shove him off. Yuga tugged on him a bit, as if trying to shake him out of a dream, and began to babble of sorts. “We’ve been worried sick, you know. We tried to look for you, but… The servants wouldn’t tell us where they’d hidden you. If it weren’t for the annoyance it would bring to our Ganondorf, we’d have turned the entire Temple upside-down. He’s already peeved enough with Zant as is. You understand.”

He didn’t. He didn’t understand the search, the risk, the worry. What he could only assume Yuga alluded to, though, he did understand. If there was any proof out there of the consequences of Ganondorf’s wrath, it was daintily being clutched by the man beside him.

At the continued lack of response, Yuga’s expression darkened further. Ghirahim came to the infuriating realization that he was being pitied. The Lorian’s eyes darted out into the sights before them. “Come on,” he quickly posited. “Let’s take a walk, shall we? Stretching your legs will do you good.”

Before he could give even an inch of a vocal response, Yuga already tugged him along. Arm in arm, they left the dark and murky sheltering of the temple and stepped out into the garden. Ghirahim gave a bit of a sigh as they waded into the overgrown labyrinth, crushing petals under their soles as they went. At this time of year, there were more roses scattered on the paths than still hung blooming on the bushes. Even so, this didn’t seem to deter Yuga from pampering the entire floral expanse as he saw fit. The beauty-obsessed sorcerer was stretching out the lives of this garden, basking in its scarlets, pinks, whites, and oranges until the wind would finally scatter all of its flowers and wither it into a maze of thorns. It was an empty husk already, robbed of its owner. All her precious statues, except where every few corners one remained, had been removed from their pedestals. Knowing what stood in their places once, he couldn’t exactly say he minded. 

In one ear, out the other, Yuga had been yammering on for some time now. Frankly, he’d have had more luck talking to the statues in passing, for they would have given him more ear than he could muster. An odd feeling, right on the thin thread between interest and irritation, emerged in him when he realized just what all this fussing was for. Yuga must have thought to try and comfort him. The last they saw each other, after all, was when he was in the hands of…

“Yuga.”

The sorcerer in question perked up immediately at the first sounds of his voice, a bright smile barely masking his concern. “Yes?”

Ghirahim saw Yuga trying to meet his eye, but he refused it, keeping his gaze out in front of him. “What brings us to Cia’s dwelling?” 

Yuga exclaimed softly at the query. “Master Ganondorf thought it impudent to seek an outpost worthy of housing both Himself and his lieutenants. One closer to Hyrule Castle, you see. You’ve… Missed, the briefings, but in due time we will prepare a siege on Hyrule Field to claim the remaining pieces of the Triforce. The Temple was closest, is all.”

Ghirahim hummed. As he’d feared, his importance was being undermined. “And how long have I been sleeping through my duties?”

“Oh, it’s not so drastic, we,” Yuga started, but was soon forced into reconsidering his words by a dark scowl burning into his peripheral vision. “… A little over a week, Milord.”

A week… Heaving a sigh, his head dropped. In all that time, no one had thought to wake him. Their army had held up just fine without him, fine enough for their commanders to play dress-up and trot about in the greenery. A bitterness he couldn’t place nestled in him, for this feeling was entirely unknown to him. He had been rejected, he had been left behind, but never before had he not been needed. 

A gust of wind coursed through the garden, knocking the petals off some of the roses behind them. In the nook of his elbow, Yuga shuddered just a bit but knew better than to tuck himself closer to the cold frame of his companion. For the first time since awakening, Ghirahim craned his head up, ever-so-gently lifting himself from the downtrodden drone-like solemnity that kept his eyes on the ground before him. The pinks and oranges of the sky were gradually turning to purple. East of them, framing the Temple like a lifted bridal veil, the first stars speckled the darkening sky. It must have been getting chilly for such a frail man. 

They continued walking. He didn’t want to drag this little get-together out longer than he had to. If Yuga was going out of his way to put himself in a state of discomfort, it was better spent on someone capable of actually appreciating such an effort. The pink-speckled path swirled on and on; though he wasn’t as familiar with its layout anymore, he knew it wouldn’t be long until they came out the other end, and he could finally retreat to a better spending of his time.

A stone-hewn shape to his left completely stopped him in his tracks. It ripped his eyelids fully open and yanked Yuga nearly out of balance with how harshly he came to a halt. 

There he stood. Serene yet with stubborn mischief hidden behind the subtlest crinkle of his eyes, marble fingers caressing the false golden strings of a harp. Ghirahim knew that face anywhere. He couldn’t believe Yuga would have been able to see into him so deeply as to copy that smile with such clarity when it had taken him months to do as much as evoke it. Before him stood not just any carnation of the Hero, it was the one he’d known.

Yuga let out a bit of an embarrassed laugh as he noticed him staring at the statue. “It’s quite dreadful, isn’t it? To have depictions of one’s arch nemesis in their dwelling. I can’t stand the boy myself, but… They’re still my work, you know?” He began to babble, a hand brought to his cheek. “No matter if it depicts such a distasteful subject, there are other aspects one can admire, I would say. It took quite a bit of begging to get Master Ganondorf to let me keep at least a few… No doubt he’ll put me to work to fill in the empty pedestals, though. If I don’t do so of my own accord, that is!”

It was a masterful depiction, one that parted his lips in a painful, smothered awe. Past the marble, he could almost see that russet-blond hair and the deep, ocean-blue eyes. As if any second its exterior could chip, and the boy within would break free. And how he’d seize that brat with his own hands, tear the blood-soaked thread that bound them in his lifetime to shreds with nothing but his teeth. Link had been one of the first smudges on his soul, one that tainted his resolve and made him so disgustingly frivolous. Every last star in the skies above would have to snuff out before he’d forgive him for it.

Yes, he’d had guilty pleasures before. He’d toyed, he’d teased, and he’d indulged in what he shouldn’t have. They had all been shaken off easily with no room for tears to shed. Each and every one of them had gotten in the way of his goal, and every time he’d drawn close to that great life’s light, petty distractions had to be done away with. See now, how clinging to such a selfish desire had strayed him so far from his purpose, far enough to be punished. It was below him to allow such foolishness to continue for this long. He’d cut those ties before, burned bridges till their ashes shaped back into objects of rivalrous disdain.

This one would be just as easy to sever.

He narrowed his eyes, clarity at once clearing the fog of his judgment. What lay behind it was frustration. Knives that didn’t belong there drove into his core with every pulse. It smothered him, tightening his chest and hitching his voice. “… You mentioned Zant. Is he also here?”

“He is, indeed,” Yuga nodded, looking instantly a little brighter. There was no point in shattering that little glimmer, at least not right then. “He’s been holed up in that library since… Well, since we arrived here, really. You ought to go see him now that you’re awake. Surely he’ll be glad to see you.”

Ghirahim fought against a bitter laugh building up in his throat but decided to let it slip. “Surely.”

—

The library was tricky to find, but easy enough for a demon. The hallways winded on and on, the nonsensical architecture of the Temple of Souls making navigation difficult for any regular man, but second nature to a being of darkness. Besides, the pitiful meeting with their second-newest recruit was a bit too fresh in his mind to forget the steps he’d traced. Corridors overlapped with each other as if clipped in at different angles, and if you’d asked him, he may have walked onto a separate plane of gravity about three times now. Within good time, though, he stood before tall, twin ornate doors. Gold filigree swirled into purple paneling, jutting out into claw-like doorknobs at shoulder height. Ghirahim seized both in his hands and pushed, stepping into the shadowy room beyond.

It was as if a horde of wild animals had ravaged it. Books lay strewn across the floor, sheets of paper tying them all together like a makeshift map. Not a single candle lit the library. Were it not for the cold beams of dusk light that entered through the tall windows above, it would have been pitch dark. Entire shelves had been emptied, either onto the floor or stacked into wobbly towers on the reading desks, sending centuries upon centuries of dust flying in the air above them like gnats in a swamp. In the center of it all, hunched over a spread of books with shoulders shaking and his back heaving with his breath, stood Zant. 

At the sound of the doors creaking open, he whipped around, a ravenous look contorted his face into a snarl. Something so desperate and territorial he’d only ever seen before in the eyes of beasts, standing over the carcass of fresh kill and daring anything that surrounded it to try and take its rightful meal. The glare that aimed at him, glowing and orange in the shadow-consumed room, zoned in on him like a grave keeper’s lantern.

Yet, when a spark of recognition lit in those burning orbs, in an instant, that crazed expression was gone. Instead, something of a solemn relief softened his face. His voice shook a little as he spoke, just barely above a whisper.

“Oh, Ghirahim…”

At once, he took to the air. Feather-light he bounded over the carpet of books that covered the floor, seemingly uncaring of how many pages turned, or how many sheets of paper he whisked away in his advance. His robes fluttered behind him, before he came to a halt before him, only the slightest sigh of wind puffing out below him in his landing. 

“You’ve returned to us.”

Were there any apprehension in Zant from the distance he’d wedged between them, not a shred of it was visible. Those lanky fingers — cold, even through the gloves — reached out for him instantly to take his hands. His head cocked, eyes wide-set and overshadowed by a worried frown, as he tried to lean into his eye contact. Ghirahim could see it in his periphery as he scowled down at the ground, that insistence to meet his eye. Yet it wasn’t the suffocating, pulse-quickening gaze he was so used to being snared into. Those eyes only looked at him with concern, with heartsickness. Even as he stood there, exuding nothing but coldness and avoidance, Zant kept making those odd little squeaks and hums as if they were sitting cheek to cheek at their bedside.

… How was he making this so difficult?

He hadn’t even shaken off those hands, that now started gently rubbing their thumbs over his knuckles. Every little stroke of his withered thumbs sent sparks beneath his skin. They snaked his way in tingles down his arms, before they swelled into his chest with apprehension. What was intended as a comforting gesture only made him anxious. One more nudge and he would be past that threshold again, tumbling into his arms and robbing him of all clarity. Such weakness was unbecoming of him; rather, it went against his entire being, to be so easily swayed into being charmed by a man he couldn’t trust. He had to chase those questions that swarmed in his mind before he could once again be distracted from them. 

Ghirahim flicked his hands off, folding his arms to prevent Zant from stealing him away again. “You owe me an explanation. Several, in fact.”

Zant withdrew his hands, hovering in their sleeves before his chest. The mournful worry that spread its gray hues across his face soon shattered. His eyes widened, lacing themselves with the resigned fear of a cornered animal. “What do you wish to know?”

He wondered where to begin. Any other time he would prefer to be subtle, to tease out what he wanted and kick his adversary while they’re down for good measure. Zant owed him his secrecy for having strung him along with such anxiety, but he didn’t feel the mood to collect his dues. He simply wanted his questions answered, and the door shut behind him. 

So he did away with all his filters, and let it all bubble forth. “Your behavior during our siege… It defied everything I’ve known of you. You are tense with some sort of burden you won’t divulge, and it’s made you erratic in ways you’ve never been before. But perhaps you have been this cryptic, and it simply took me too long to realize.”

Dourness quickly boiled over to fury. Ghirahim paced as he talked, gesturing wildly as he let himself get sucked into his venting anger. “To ask you of- of any sense, in that labyrinthine head of yours may be as impossible to you as it is to me, but Zant, as it stands, I cannot have faith in any of our cooperation if you remain so,” he paused, his hands clawing in his hair with building frustration. “So… Impossible! Perplexing and intangible!”

He whipped around at once, sweeping his arm in emphasis. “So I demand you now to explain yourself, before…”

Silence fell. He couldn’t think of a way to finish that question. Before, what, exactly? Before he’d lose trust in him? There wasn’t much more of that which he could lose. Before he’d leave him? He was already planning on cutting those amicable ties, but as tied together by their duty as they were, he could never flee from him fully. There was simply no point in making promises he couldn’t keep. So he stayed silent.

It appeared to have been enough to convey his point. Zant’s expression had fallen further.

Zant sighed through his nose, tightening his mouth to a thin line. “You are right in your assessment, Ghirahim. I was careless,” he responded, fidgeting with one of his tassels as his eyes darted wildly for some safe place to rest his gaze. Ghirahim’s furious magnetism won the battle over his avoidance, he noted in petty self-satisfaction, as soon that lanky fool couldn’t help but look at him.

Ghirahim stood firm, chin tipped as he glared up at him, even when Zant so meekly stepped forward to loom closer to him. His voice was more hushed now. Ghirahim couldn’t recall any other time he sounded so timid. “I tell you this in confidence, now, Ghirahim, for I do not wish to give the impression that I distrust our Master’s actions, much less let such a rumor spread through our forces.” 

His brow bones furrowed and his expression turned grave. “Truthfully, I had known from the start that any attack on Death Mountain could only lead to an ambush. Yet, I could not sway our Master into reconsidering our approach. I could not keep those frustrations from leaking into my performance in battle, for truly, I was convinced that day would be my last.”

“Not to mention, I,” he started, but there was regret in his eyes for having turned his mind to the page he now was to dictate. His hands fidgeted uneasily in his sleeves, reaching for him just the slightest bit before retreating into their fabric shells. “I have felt a certain… Distance — between us, ever since our latest trek to the Faron Woods. I am uncertain what has come to pass since then, but the lack of our shared company agonized me.”

A gradual blush crept on his cheeks, ever-more prominent over the thin, whitened scars of his face. “Yet, in my desperation when waiting for the sounding of my death knell, wishing for you so, my actions only endangered you. Never did I wish to cast you in Ganondorf’s ire, and I can only feel responsible for the punishment he chose to give you.”

Zant huffed weakly. All his strength then seemed to gather in his eyes, peering at him in pleading and guilt. Though Ghirahim had shaken him off and tucked his hands beyond his reach, somehow Zant had slipped them free and insistently clasped them in his own. “I do not expect you to forgive me, but my remorse is true.”

Ghirahim looked up at him, for a moment at a loss for words. Once again, Zant had struck an incomprehensible chord, leaving him tongue-tied. If he didn’t so stubbornly cling to it, the anger he’d entered this room with almost would have faded. And even if it had, a new source of annoyance quickly took its place. Such frivolous sentimentality! At least the previous times, Zant had the decency to keep it concealed.

He couldn’t believe that such simple fears had been what cracked Zant’s composure. In fact, he didn’t believe it. The man he’d shared nights with, cradling his shivering body in his arms as night terrors consumed him, dreaded far more than such simple matters. No matter how erratically he behaved on the battlefield, he was far beyond the lowly realm of beasts. Mortal he may have been, but Ghirahim knew all too well that his Master wouldn’t waste energy on someone so dispensable.

Perhaps they had been the actions of a man with nothing to lose, after all. Nothing he’d said, however, shed even a single light on that secretive, elusive string he’d always keep him on.

But he didn’t want to upset him any further, not when he’d gotten him a semblance of loose-lipped. Were he to shut him down now, he might never get the opportunity again. 

Zant was still holding his hands. Ghirahim sucked in a breath when he realized he’d stopped noticing it, how used he’d grown to being touched by him. He gave the man one last look, before casting his eyes down with a sigh. Slipping his hands out of his grip got him a little whimper in response, and Zant’s eyes trailed him wetly and sadly as he walked past him. 

He scanned the room again. Books. Always with the books. The Twili was completely addicted to gathering knowledge of this realm, to the point he may as well derive sustenance from it. It was this ceaseless digging into this alternate world’s past that had sparked his first bout of madness, of conspiracy. Maybe the answers to his questions were hidden there.

And so, he looked over his shoulder, addressing him in their usual banter. “This place was not so ravaged last I saw it.”

Zant perked up, hesitantly so. He seemed to be taking the extension of their conversation as a sign of forgiveness. He would be wrong, but Ghirahim was planning on tolerating his company, for the time being. Zant trailed after him, looming in a shadow at his back. “Indeed. I have let my enthusiasm get the better of me, it seems.”

“It seems, he says…” Ghirahim clicked his tongue, browsing the sea of paper before him. “Even you wouldn’t be this chaotic without good reason. What are you obsessing over this time?”

A far less uncertain smile split Zant’s lips, his pointed teeth glittering in the dim light. “I think it better to show you. Come.”

Zant extended his hand, palm raised. He was testing his luck, certainly, but Ghirahim would let him, if only for the sake of his curiosity. So, he shot the man a warning glance and accepted. Instead of their usual warp, Zant instead grabbed on tightly and tugged the both of them backward. He jumped, pulling Ghirahim — suddenly a hundred pounds lighter and kicking his feet with a yelp — into the air with him. They floated past the trail of books that scattered across the library floor, only to land right at an empty space at its very center. The second they landed, Ghirahim yanked his hand free and sourly dusted himself off. Oh, yes. He really was testing his patience.

Face still soft and pink, Zant’s anxiety took a turn for his more zealous side. He quickly turned his attention to the fruits of his labor. “I have taken the liberty of combing through the Sorceress’ magical tomes in search for something we ourselves could master, and found something truly promising.”

Sleeves spread out, he continued his sermon. “The grimoire she carries is outside of my reach, but a grimoire, too, is nothing more than a summary of knowledge. I believe I have found the pathway to unlocking her arcane secrets, Ghirahim,” he began to giggle, at once hunching down to arrange his spread of paper and leather. “Does this look familiar?”

Ghirahim squinted. In this dark, finding familiarity in anything at all was a chore, but one he would have to commit to. With great determination, Zant continued to arrange the books and papers. It was all just scribbles to him. Before he could comment on the irony of the bookish girl’s scrawly handwriting, his disdain for the texts revealed something new. Rather than the texts themselves, something was hidden behind them — a circular print, in light, grey dye, joining one page to the next. And within those prints, one symbol was scrawled on each opened book. 

Ghirahim frowned, now turning his gaze to the creature squatted on the floor. “That is… Those are the runes to..?”

Zant rose, more papers tightly clutched to his chest, and nodded with scheming satisfaction. “Indeed. These very pages hold the secrets to her time gates. With some study… I may yet figure them out for our own use.”

Finally, the pieces clicked. Ghirahim had come to him seeking sense and he’d found it, wrapped in layers upon layers of pipe dreams. Their field trips, his toiling studies, his obsession with finding context clues in the landscape… It had to all have been building to this. As true to his character as it could ever be, the Twilight King came here searching for a way to claim the power of Gods for himself and had now found it. If he couldn’t have it in one world, he would have it in the next. The prospect of what Zant would use such power for, continued to worry him… But just this knowledge would suffice, for now. At last, he felt like he had an idea of just what went on in that enigmatic chaos that called itself a ‘mind’. He could follow that wavelength.

For the first time since arriving at the library, he smiled. He laughed, even, his hand brought to his face. “You truly are a madman.”

The sight of Ghirahim’s smile visibly delighted Zant. Then it emboldened him, bursting into a cackle. “I would not be the first to admit that the boundary between madmen and scholars is, and shall forever remain, very thin.”

And so, Ghirahim found himself once again at the Twilight King’s side, perusing the various notes and books he’d ripped through. Perhaps he’d curse himself give or take a few days, but being on Zant’s trail for a change invigorated him. He’d managed to somewhat level the playing field. Whether he would win this duel remained to be seen, but now at least he had an idea of where the man hid his spare daggers. Standing across the field of honor, his hands itched to lunge for him and pluck them out himself. 

Zant, too, appeared contented. His fingers glided past the papers he’d accumulated, rambling on and on about his discoveries, and the potentials of summoning more and more obscure beasts from beyond time. 

At last, their company appeared to return to old fondness, until Zant’s words faded. His tone turned grave as he turned to him. “… Ghirahim.”

Ghirahim sighed, combing his hair to the left side of his face with his fingers. “What is it this time?”

Zant blinked, mulling over his words blank-faced. “Are you afraid of me?”

The words shot into him like a burning arrow, igniting his temper in an instant. “Afraid..?” he scoffed. “What a ridiculous notion. You would do better to watch your tongue.”

Zant’s eyes narrowed. Ghirahim couldn’t place the intent of his question. It could only have been a taunt, an insult, but he spied none of the playful sadism that should accompany such bullying. “I have given you my answers without riddles. I wish for you to extend me that same grace,” Zant demanded.

And so, Ghirahim considered it, even if every instinct blared with annoyance and a desire to throw the notion straight in his mental garbage bin. Did he fear Zant? One would think he didn’t, for the man was impulsive, childish, and frightfully easy to wrap around his finger. Yet, that very same fool had coaxed him into vulnerability and, at the end of the day, could very well mangle him to shards if he so desired. The thought frightened, embarrassed, and disgusted him all the same. He stood, arms folded, avoiding his gaze but knowing it wouldn’t avoid him until he answered. His annoyance won over his ego. 

He cleared his throat and chose the practical path. “… It’s only expected to hold some fear for those more powerful than you, no? Do you not fear our Master?”

That same look Zant had worn on his face when he first met his eyes today, returned. The initial shock of his answer faded, soon turning glum. It wasn’t piteous like the way Yuga looked at him. In those glossy amber eyes, he saw nothing but grief and recognition. Slowly, Zant began to shake his head and soon drew him into a wordless embrace. 

Ghirahim froze. Had he answered wrong? There was no such thing. Strength meant to control those lacking that power. How else did one demand respect, but through the competing of abilities? To outmatch, to terrorize? To break down every lesser being at the knee, so all they could do was to look upon you in awe and worship? That was how he’d functioned, on either side of the spectrum. It was the simple order of life, and he’d relished in it. Demise had forged him for it, after all, and he would sooner shatter than deny himself this privileged terror.

Then, Ghirahim came to the baffling conclusion that Zant did not want him to fear him. He couldn’t begin to fathom why. Neither did he understand why his body grew slack, and why his arms shakily found their way loosely around Zant’s waist.

The Twili let out more of those little hums, nuzzling his face into his hair. Lanky arms pulled him in closer as the first subtle drops of tears trickled onto the crown of his head. “Truly, you have kept me from you for too long…”

It was all entirely alien. Both Zant’s reactions and the pounding they stirred inside his core. But, by Demise, he didn’t want to let go.

“You vex me, vile and dark thing,” Ghirahim murmured finally, burying his face in the pillowing of deep black robes. “Fork-tongued, baleful, infuriating wretch,” he hissed, though the venom in his voice thinned, till at long last it dripped with philter. A hand with uneven digits found his cheek and before he knew he leaned into it. Whatever protests, pleas for self-control, and shunning his mind cried out, his body ignored completely. His head tipped back to a sigh, baring his face to the mercy of his kisses. “You must have cursed me, to draw me to you like this. I find no other reason to time and time again return to your arms.”

With those lips so close to his ear, Zant laughed, its smoky tones sending an involuntary shiver down his neck. “Forgive me, for such magic could only ever be a blessing in my eyes.”

They embraced there for what seemed like ages. Stubborn cries in his mind called him a coward, spineless for his inability to push him away. Those, too, faded with the deafening buzz of this affectionate comfort. Cotton filled his head until it may as well have been coming out of his ears. Whatever thoughts would come to haunt him could dig their claws back into him some other time. He was too mystified by this odd creature that cooed and whispered and kissed, to make space for anything else. 

Soon, Zant broke that precious silence with more of his perplexing words. “… I cannot help but notice, Ghirahim. Even after your slumber, you remain ill.” He leaned back, once again fiddling with his hair with those spindly fingers. “If you will let me, I can be of assistance to you again.”

A chill ran down his back the instant he realized just where his curiosity had led him. Instantly, Ghirahim jerked back, a hand protectively over his chest. He had given the Twili an inch, and already, he was seeking to pry him open and-

Zant picked up on his shock and quickly attempted to calm him. “Ah- No, I will not force you into such an intimate act, especially not given our earlier talk. But I may have an idea.”

Still apprehensive, but no longer as tightly wound, Ghirahim frowned at him. “… Go on.”

Once again Zant grew a touch shy. He chewed on his lip as he sought for words. “Your magic is channeled through dance, is it not? As with your counterpart, you cast your spells most effectively through somatic channeling. I could assist you and combine our energies, so you could dispel the curse on your own.”

Ghirahim stood perplexed. At first, his frustratingly verbose wording confused him, until he realized what he meant. His smile returned to him against his will, but he took the liberty of adding a snarky spin. “… Twilight King… Once again, your attempts at courtship are laughable. Are you asking me for a dance?”

A grin spread across Zant’s face, finally casting that bothersome gloom aside. “Only if you will have me, Demon Lord.”

Deciding he’d already agreed to enough unbecoming nonsense for the night, Ghirahim didn’t see the harm in one more. He accepted and watched curiously as Zant gleefully trotted off someplace else.

“Just a moment,” he echoed into some cabinet, “I’ve found quite the intriguing little implement earlier. If only I could- Ah!”

Ghirahim tilted his head to look over his shoulder. He sneered a laugh when he saw just what Zant had fetched and held up so proudly. “A music box? You think me some sniveling babe, in need of a lullaby?”

But the Twili refused even a shred of embarrassment, standing firm in his choice. “Perhaps it is a touch juvenile, but I found it carries a fine tune. Besides, would you rather our privacy be interrupted by an orchestra?”

Ghirahim shrugged, admitting defeat. “No, I suppose not.”

Finally, Zant reached for his hand. Upon taking it, he was dragged into his magic by surprise, and the pair promptly appeared on the upper floor of the library. The doors to the balcony stood open, the evening breeze brushing through the heavy drapes. They swayed and beckoned, inviting the pair outside like ghostly chaperones. Bronze slippers clacked on stone as Zant led them out, setting their musical implements on the balcony balusters. 

Ghirahim shook his head in amusement, watching with his hands at his sides as Zant giddily began winding up the little box until the spring simply wouldn’t give any more. The sword spirit chewed his lip with a smile. He wondered if this inelegant being even knew how to dance, despite his invitation. Much less how it would look. 

A pleasant surprise reared its head but did not quite escape its hiding when Zant approached him in a straight posture. He confidently took his hand in his and placed the other at his hip. “Might I request to lead? It’s how I’ve been trained, after all.”

The mere suggestion made Ghirahim laugh. “Oh, so you were trained? Such interesting things you try to sell me on.”

Zant’s lips pursed into a smug, defiant smile, his hand not moving from his waist. “Will I get an answer before that box runs out of spins, I wonder.”

Ghirahim rolled his eyes with a laugh, finally conceding, and reaching up to place his hand on his shoulder. “Sweep me away, Twilight King. See if you keep my toes intact.”

Pleasant surprise turned to astonishment when it turned out Zant was, indeed, a halfway-decent dancer. It took the both of them a few clumsy bumps, affronted toes, and curses but mostly laughs, to get used to each others’ rhythms and lengths of strides. Before long, though, Zant took up on his challenge and swept the both of them through the balcony in a waltz. 

Yet, one thing still irked him. Doubtlessly, Zant’s mop of hair was no glorious sight to behold, but Ghirahim certainly preferred it over that hideous leather coif. So, he clicked his tongue, breaking their hold to reach for his face. “Must you be wearing that old thing as we dance?”

“Ah,” Zant exclaimed, flinching away from the fingers that slipped beneath his coif. “I would prefer to, if you wouldn’t mind.”

Ghirahim frowned a little but decided to let it slide. The fading scars on Zant’s cheeks reminded him enough about his tendency to hide himself. For the time being, he supposed he could shrug it off. Whatever he kept concealed there could only be a minor secret compared to the ones he’d wrenched from him just earlier. He’d let these fade with the sun, which sank ever further away with each step of their feet. Pink turned to blue, turned to pitch black, finally shedding them in the chandelier light of the starry veil above. Ghirahim’s blooming magic, leaving glowing white footprints behind them, poured from him as easily as he could sigh a breath. Once again, that nosy Twilight busy-body had found a way to intertwine the two of them. All he had to do was dance.

—

The plucky chiming of the music box had long ceased, but neither of them paid it any mind. Their feet rhythmically continued gliding past the stone floors. Zant’s metal clogs left their characteristic clink-clink-clink, and Ghirahim’s soles trailed with glittering diamonds, leaving a sound like wind passing through a grand chandelier. Those specks of magic rang and jingled, themselves producing a tune, casting the pair in fracturing light as if they’d been dancing miles below the sea. 

Fog of exhaustion began to drain from him, sapped from his fingertips — he clutched Zant just a little tighter, — his feet — his dance stepped just a little lighter, — and the back of his mind — the stars in his eyes shone just a little brighter, — until he could hardly feel its influence anymore. It gathered at his core, before being shed from it in yet more gentle puffs of diamond magic. Those very gems were infused, or rather, tainted with something else, something living and dark. Yet, now, as the little cloud of them swirled into the sky like a snake wading through the desert sands, it could harm him no longer.

The point of his ear glowed softly red when amidst the gentle sounds of their dance, Zant’s persistent giggling had turned into a hum. Soon, Ghirahim found himself laughing along. There the pair swayed singing across the balcony, dancing into the night in mutual serenade. Rewinding that old toy would have been too much of a bother, either way. With every step, he felt lighter, more whole, and with the arms that led him through their steps, he couldn’t help but feel like Zant had his hand in reforming him. Even when simply being by his side while he reforged himself, their intimacy alone molded him into such a whimsical being. 

He did not have enough lead in his steel to be this weak and malleable. But oh, damn it all. Those eyes adored him so.

But how could they? Ghirahim could treat him coldly, he could avoid him, he could waltz into this very room with the intent to berate and abandon him, and still he welcomed him with open arms. So tragically he beheld him and so desperately he’d pleaded for him to consider forgiveness. They were tearing each other to the ground, he knew it, and he was certain now that Zant knew it, too. Yet, somehow, when it kept his sleepless mind buzzing with a hive’s worth of conflict, that strange man chased after it like his life knew no greater purpose. 

He couldn’t hope to sway him from that obsession, nor from attempting to drag him down with him. But he could try. 

“You’re certain you wish to spend your time with such frivolous things, Twilight King?” he said, coaxing glowing amber into his own vast black. “Even if I continue to doubt you so?”

Zant chuckled, some puzzling silence in his face. “Even now, you question me? For months now, we have laid together in both passion and slumber. I’ve allowed you to hold me, to comfort me when my mind would reject me, until we have spent more nights together than apart.” He spoke, keeping the pair moving and shrouded in glitter. “Were those hours we’ve spent together in leisure, in discourse and intrigue, not meaningful to you? Had you not the slightest inkling of the way I look at you, how the world pales in importance when we occupy the same space?”

There was the first true crack, picking at a wall he didn’t know he had. He expected, no, demanded to be admired. Desirability was as true to his nature as his cruelty and by all means, he had to be used to it. He couldn’t fathom why this would feel different, and why against all logic, it did.

Zant spun him, holding him closer as he pulled him back in. “Ghirahim, truly, could I have made myself any clearer? Flippant feelings alone can not keep me from you, for they are what make us alive. With all that we’ve shared, how could I come to feel anything for you, but my deepest, truest affections?”

Another hair fracture, zig-zagging and weaving together like a web. With every turn of their waltz, the stars spun around them. Bright specks swirled around till all blended together in a glowing spiral. It was like the little pixies had seen their swaying below, and promptly broke into their own dance, having unanimously decided it looked fun. His core pulsed, thrummed, widening his eyes and sending roaring fire to his chest. Below him, his magic spoke for him, and welcomed the starry sky above to join their not-so-private ball. Scattering into the sky in sparks, or really, more like bubbles in a boiling kettle, diamonds rose from the pool of pure white magic that gathered at his feet.

Something in him pounded at the wall, and the fracture cleaved ever deeper. The hand holding his’ slipped out from their loose joining, trailing its way down his arm and toward his cheek. “Surely, some of it must have registered, for even after our time apart, you continue to bear my gift to you,” Zant said, his eyes now glued to his earring.

Zant sucked in a gasp, for just a moment tripping over his words. Their eyes met again, and the Twili fell silent. He stared at him as if he had committed to counting every star that reflected in the black of his pupils, and would still be there to count them when new ones were born. He brought the two of them to a halt, looking as infatuated as he was troubled. Ghirahim grew cold with anticipation, all while Zant kept him trapped and entranced. “The truth is, Ghirahim, I…”

Rushing forth from some corner of himself, this geode he once thought hollow, a battering ram whacked at his crumbling line of defenses. Desperately it slammed against the wall to meet whatever had called it, to see what nighttide lover was knocking at its balcony window and sweep it off its feet. So desperate it was, starving for a feeling it had never dared to dream be reciprocated, that it tore a gaping hole in him at first strike. 

That little hidden shard of his now flew free, gazing out into the world he’d hidden it from with awe and splendor. For just one second, the stars around them seemed to glow, the hand on his cheek felt warmer, and his core felt infinitely lighter. Little dagger, so eagerly it flung around the shoulders of the one waiting for it outside its imprisonment, that it hadn’t even noticed that every other inch of Ghirahim had kept its thousands of hands firmly at its hilt. They ripped it back inside. It went back with them cheering and giggling, a little tatter of the object of its affection clutched firmly in its hands. 

He could not sever this. Not if he let it continue.

And so, he ran. He broke himself away from the golden eyes that looked at him so longingly by clenching his own shut. By the time he opened them again, his hands were empty and cold, and his back was pressed against one of the columns that left this very library standing. The room was dark.

He was hoping that tearing himself from him would bring him a measure of relief, of closure. To avoid the words about to be spoken was to avoid opening a door he had only dared to peep through and hold it ajar, lured in by the tranquilizing sweetness of his curiosity. It was a world not meant for him, not with this man. He’d slam the stop-gap keeping it open to splinters if he had to.

Yet, as he stood there, drowning in the deathly silence of the library, he couldn’t bring himself to. There was not a shred of relief to be found in the ache that buckled his knees. That door to what-could-be remained open. After he’d shattered it, it could never close again. In the paralysis that kept him clinging to that pillar like a lifeline, he heard a shred from that great unknown. Above him, from the balcony, a wet, ragged breath ripped itself through the Twili’s throat in a heaving sob.

A crash, a shatter, the sound of little gears and mechanisms scattering across the stone floor assaulted his ears. Though he fled from them, the ringing and clattering haunted Ghirahim in echoes as he made his solemn stride to his chambers.

[kookaburra1701]

WIP Wednesday - Aristeia

tagged by @skyrim-forever, ty friend!

I am tagging @mareenavee @gilgamish @greyborn2 @dirty-bosmer @thana-topsy @nientedenada @totally-not-deacon @sylvienerevarine

Fandom: The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim Rating: T (blood and violence) Category: gen Genre(s): Adventure, Homer retelling Main characters: Borgakh the Steel Heart, the orcs of Mor Khazgur

Summary: Borgakh is a dutiful daughter of Mor Khazgur, an orc stronghold in a remote corner of the Reach that has existed since the Merethic era. Expected to someday become the shield-wife of a distant chieftain, Borgakh tries to uphold the Code of Malacath as best she can. But when her father, the chief of their stronghold, goes missing while on a quest for vengeance, the suitors that show up to vie for his place cause no end of trouble and threaten the strength of Mor Khazgur. Borgakh soon finds herself traveling far from home across the Druadach Mountains to find her father and save the stronghold.

The first chapter is here on AO3.

This continues directly from a snippet I previously posted here.

At once there was the sound of steel being drawn, and she answered it with a growl and whirled, holding her staff up to block the sword she was certain was coming.

There was no blow— instead the other two men were backing up, swords held in front of them. Borgakh used their hesitation to side-step, placing herself in a better position to intercept them if they went for the goats again, while not allowing herself to be trapped in between them and the cliff face.

“You’ve assaulted one of the Emperor’s Legionnaires, stand down or we will be forced—”

“You stand down, and leave our territory!” Borgakh snarled. “They belong to Mor Khazgur, we do not suffer thieves lightly!”

“Stand down, citi—”

Borgakh roared again, and charged. The man swore, parrying the thrust of the staff with the flat of his blade. Out of the corner of her eye Borgakh saw the third man coming at her flank, and spun the leg-hook of the staff to catch him in the side of the head.

Before Borgakh could finish the swing something large, flat, and unyielding struck her from the side, knocking the breath out of her lungs as she hit the ground. She knew someone was lying on top of her: she could feel their legs tangling with hers, trying to get a purchase in the mud. But when she grabbed for limbs using the grappling techniques her mother had taught her all she found was flat boards and iron ferrules.

She was under a shield.

As foot-steps approached she smiled to herself as they were forced to jump back with a swipe from her staff. Eventually someone managed to get a boot on the staff and that put an end to that.

“Are you hurt, Julius?”

“I just took that damn stick to the skull, of course I’m hurt,” said a peevish voice.

“Can you walk?”

“Aye.”

“Go get the Captain.”

Footsteps approached, and someone made a grab for her outstretched arm, but jumped back with a curse when Borgakh kicked out. The weight on top of her shifted, and a large hand encircled her wrist, pushing it back down into the mud.

“Stop—stop fighting,” the man on top of the shield grunted. His voice was strained and Borgakh redoubled her efforts. “You’re making it worse for yourself!”

“Malacath curse you,” Borgakh hissed.

“Filly’s got spirit, I’ll give her that,” said the man who was standing nearby.

“Hold your tongue, Cario. The captain will deal with this.” The weight on the shield shifted again, and the metal-rimmed edge bit into her arm as she twisted it in the man’s grip. “And you, Orc, if you stop fighting I’ll let you up out of the mud.”

Borgakh cursed again, echoing some of the more colorful words she’d heard Ghamorz use when working in the mines.

“I don’t think she likes you.”

“I said, hold your tongue.”

Try as she might, with her arm pinned by the edge of the shield Borgakh was unable to free her arm from the man on top of her. If she could only bend her elbow just a fraction of a degree more, she would be able to gain enough leverage to push him and his accursed shield off of her, but his weight seemed to be positioned to prevent exactly that.

Should I yell for Olur and Gul? Borgakh did not know if she would be able to fill her lungs enough for a scream to carry down the mountain. And it would likely just alert the men to Olur and Gul’s presence. How long will it take for Olur to notice I haven’t come back? Borgakh smiled to herself, imagining the surprise on the mens’ faces when Olur’s arrows pierced them where they stood, like the Reachwoman who thought she could steal their deer.

Multiple pairs of heavy footsteps approached; Borgakh could feel their vibrations through the ground as they approached.

The weight was lifted off of the shield but before Borgakh was able to take advantage of the opportunity more hands grabbed her arms and she found herself hauled to her knees, arms held firmly behind her by more men. Some of them wore the same uniforms as the three who had been stealing the goats (Borgakh noted with satisfaction that one of them was bleeding profusely from a knot on his temple) but two were wearing leather gambesons and mail covered by a deep green surcoat. They carried round wooden shields blazoned with stylized ram’s horns.

[ask-healthy-light]

As the legion of Guards continued to march through the Mirror into the grassy fields of the Empire, when Nox noticed Inferno kneeling down in front of Shining and Cadance, she quietly told Light that she would be back in a moment; and after Light let go of Nox, they sweetly smiled and nodded as she flew over the Guards, and softly landed next to Inferno, where she solemnly greeted the two Royals.

But while Cadance and Shining were glad to see Nox, she swiftly realised that the appearance of her Captain had unnerved them, so she politely asked Inferno to stand up again, and to lower her blade; for although she understood what the gesture meant, and that she meant it well, neither Cadance nor Shining yet knew who she was, nor what they had agreed upon before they stepped through the Mirror.

With a slow nod to Nox, Inferno placed her sword back in its sheath, evidently not realising it was greater in height than the Royals, and got up to introduce herself as Inferno, the Captain of Nox's Guard on the Island Realm she called her home; and she let them know that she had been the one with whom Nox had spoken through scrolls, and who had gathered the army that now stood in front of them.

Both Cadance and Shining let out great sighs of relief, and thanked the two for coming to their aid with so little warning, as their force was stretched thin, and had not known a moment of peace in a long time; but while they had faith in their friends that their quest would be successful, and that the Marauders would not be a threat for much longer, they were unsure whether they would retaliate.

A proud smile grew upon Inferno's face as she stepped aside, revealing the legion of Guards the two Princesses and she had led here, who had only just finished their march through the Mirror from the island; and she was confident that any attempt of the Marauders to strike back would be repelled by their strengthened force, especially when they were commanded by the Captain of the Crystal Empire.

After a brief pause, Shining looked at Inferno with a questioning gaze, but before he could ask her what she meant, the Dragoness Captain turned to Nox to ask her for permission, to which she nodded, whereafter she took her sword and knelt down again; and though she was still taller than the Royals from where she sat, she bowed her head, and solemnly said that the Guards would follow his command.

As soon as she uttered these words, the entire formation of Guards looked at them, causing the very ground to quake as they marched in place to turn to face the two incredulous Crystal Royals, before they simultaneously saluted them; and the area grew silent as the Guards remained where they stood, allowing Luna and Light to move around the entirety of the legion to meet up with the others again.

It was clear that Shining and Cadance both were stunned into silence, so Light took the opportunity to introduce themselves to Captain Inferno, who told them that she was honoured in turn, as she had never expected to meet a Kirin, let alone one so far North; and Light chuckled softly, and admitted they never knew their journey would lead them all around and beyond Equestria in such a short time.

But when Inferno asked them how they had made it all the way here, Light slightly tilted their head in confusion, before they told her they had joined the Princesses here from Ponyville by train just a little while ago; but Inferno apologised to Light for not being clear, and said that it must have been a massive challenge to make it to Equestria in the first place, so far across the Eastern Sea.

Now Light apologised to Inferno in turn, and said that she must be mistaken, as they had lived here for their entire long life, and their upcoming quest to the East would be their first time thither; but it was clear neither of the two understood the other, so Light and Inferno turned to Nox at the same time for advice, but she merely smiled, and kindly told them to focus on their business first.

In turn, the two nodded, and repeated that despite their confusion, it was a pleasure to meet them.

(Thanks for reading! And if you enjoyed, please reblog! Thanks in advance!)

Send an ask or request! | Start at the beginning! | Next part!

Featuring: Nox Lunarwing from @nox-lunarwing

[strangerwheelerthings]

Nancy playing dungeons and dragons as kids

This was so fun to write! Thank you!

----

Mike threw open her door and barged into her room. “Nancy! Look at this cool game Lucas found! It’s called Dungeons and Dragons, and you get to go on fantasy quests. It’s better with more than three people though, would you be willing to play with us? Will’s asking Jonathan too.”

Nancy looked up from her novel. “What’s involved?”

He jumped onto her bed beside her, tugging the book from her hands and plopping a new one into them. The cover depicted a mythical dragon fighting a knight.  

“There’s a whole manual with information about the monsters and fantasy races you can play as and fight. There’s this person called the dungeon master who leads the other players through a story and plays as the side characters, like the villains and allies. I bet you would be really good at that. You do the best character voices!”

Nancy snatched her fantasy novel back from the dangerous hands of her eight year old brother. After setting the book safely aside, she flipped through pages of the manual. It was filled with art and pictures of various creatures and spells. It looked really awesome actually. “Sure, why not, I’ll be your story teller, or whatever it was called. It’d be better than having one of you dorkasauruses do it. ”

Her brother didn’t even acknowledge the jibe. “Yes! I have to tell Lucas and Will! They were fighting over who would have to do that.” He jumped off her bed with a fist pump. “Let’s go!”

“Hold your horses for two seconds! If I’m supposed to be leading some kind of story, I’m going to need some time to figure this whole thing out. Give me a few days. Aren’t you three having another play date on Saturday?”

He pouted. “Yeah, ok.” His mood flipped again. “This is going to be so cool! My character’s going to be a dragon killing knight! Heiya!” He mimed waving a sword around as he ran out of the room. She giggled at his enthusiasm before noticing that he forgot to shut the door behind him. “Mike! Close the dang door!”

She started studying the manual immediately. She wanted to know the rules inside and out. Mike had presented a challenge, and she was going to master it. Over the next few days, the manual was juggled between the many hands trying to learn everything about the game. They were preparing character sheets while she learned the details of the world and made a few of her own. Jonathan required some cajoling from Will, but eventually he agreed to join in a game. 

On Saturday morning, they all crowded into the Wheeler’s basement and set up. Nancy was nervous, but mostly excited. She thought the boys would probably like what she had planned. Thankfully, they had managed to get a few sets of dice, though Will and Jonathan would have to share theirs. The younger boys took out the papers and grinned at her with eager faces. Jonathan did not look nearly as excited. 

She took a breath, giving them a moment to calm down before she started the introduction. “Our tale begins on the outskirts of a dwarven town. There have been rumors of children across the whole valley going missing. A tall figure sits in the corner of a tavern, called there in search of a mystery.” She gestured to Mike. “Mike, describe your character.”

He dove into an extremely detailed account of his human paladin’s armor and wickedly cool sword. 

“Three men in worn traveling cloaks approach you. They have been many days on the road. They hail from different places, but found camaraderie and protection in joining forces against dangerous bandit attacks. Will, Lucas, Jonathan, describe your characters.”

Will jumped to describe a powerful, yet spindly human wizard. Lucas went next, painting the image of a colorful and charming tiefling ranger. Jonathan’s turn was brief and to the point as he said he was a dark and mysterious rogue elf. They were ready to start the actual roleplay.

“Boys, you reach the table that Malavin sits at. What do you say to him?”

The dialogue was slow and awkward in the beginning, as they struggled to get their improve legs under them. Eventually the story started going smoother and the awkwardness faded. They seemed to get very invested in the mystery she had spent hours agonizing over. Finally they reached the moment of reveal. 

She shifted in her seat, eagerly awaiting their reactions as she revealed the betrayal of the helpful town deputy. She was not disappointed. The table erupted in uproar. The boys jumped from their seats. 

“What!?!?”

Nancy couldn’t hold back the laugh bubbling in her throat. She choked it down after a moment, and started speaking in a low and dark voice. “Kanjigar’s evil smirk starts to widen and shift. Something is happening. The human facade is falling, his form starts bulging and growing. His skin stretches, changing into a sickly blue. An Oni stands before you. Everyone, roll initiative.”

After another freak out, they got serious and prepared to fight such a dangerous creature. They managed to survive by the skin of their teeth and a few miraculous saving throws. Even Nancy jumped to her feet in excitement when Will rolled a natural twenty at the most critical moment, taking the monster down with one final blow. 

They were all hopped up on adrenaline and energy as they closed the quest and finished the story. That had been so fun. Her little brother and his friends had loved it! The four of them easily decided that this would have to happen again, with a longer campaign the next time. Jonathan respectfully opted out but thankfully a party of three would be enough for a fun game still. She wanted to create something even better next time, something that the boys would love. Her favorite part of the part was how happy it made them, but also the challenge of setting up interesting plot points and watching them react. 

--- --- ---

Over the next couple years, Nancy DMed for them many times. The boys grew older and more confident in the game, and started running their own campaigns. When Dustin joined the party, he brought a fun new energy to the group. His arrival also meant that she wasn’t needed to play anymore.

Nancy was growing older herself, and she didn’t find being a part of the party as fun as being the DM. When she made her own best friend, Barb, she stopped playing with them altogether. Barb wouldn’t like D&D anyway. She’d think Nancy was a crazy geek, especially for enjoying the game as much as her little brother. Little boys were obnoxious anyway, Nancy didn’t know why she had liked the stupid game in the first place. Yes she did.

[maeofthenoldor]

Lotr character hc's, GO!

You have given me too much power....

*pulls out my 50 page google doc*

warning: These are my less serious list, and are completely random but I think these are the most entertaining :D

-before the quest, sam would leave flowers at Frodo's door and he never knew who it was so he would press them in a book. He only found out after the quest and he used a few pages of the flower book into the red book of the westmarch

-Aragorn likes to collect rocks when he was a kid to show eleond and he was always like "Thats nice awww" and all that. He is 87 and he still does this.

-Arwen is a split image of her ancestor luthien, but Elrond says that she looks a lot like maglor with her hair.

- The children of the shire would play pretend with Bilbo's adventure, often led by Frodo and the tooks. Sam was old enough to start playing with them before they grew too old, and Frodo let him play Thorin one time, and him as course as Bilbo. This memory sticks with Sam too this day.

-Boromir is Aromantic

-Pippin convinced boromir to wear a skirt with him (It was Legolas's skirt) and he did not admit that he actually liked it.

-Pippin wears more fem clothing which really confused Denethor

-Legolas and Gimli eloped on the quest (Aragorn was their officiator)

-Eowyn starts a program in Rohan where she teaches young girl to sword fight & protect themselves.

-Frodo is a good artist and used to draw portraits of Sam, Pippin and Merry. After the quest, he stopped drawing people and focused on sketching out the landscapes that they passed by on the journey. Yet they were always creepy, and slightly distorted in an uncanny way. Elanor finds his old sketchbook one time and gets nightmares of weeks after.

-Arwen taught Eowyn how to embroider tapestries

-Frodo would love to climb the oak tree that bilbo grew in his garden. he never knew where it came from...

-Boromir and Aragorn would argue on who would give the hobbits piggy back rides

-Legolas is rebellious by mirkwood elven standards because he refuses to drink. It causes quite a scandal that thrandruil, the king and biggest drinker, has a child that does not even want to get even a little typsy.

-Bilbo would tell merry and pippin how to do pranks because it reminded him of fili and kili-

-Legolas is nonbinary and uses (they/he) pronouns

-Merry had a big crush on Eowyn, and never knew that the feeling were mutual

-Aragorn talks to trees because he is a gremelin, while legolas actually speaks the languages of the trees. This is how they become best friends

-gandalf big naturals

-Gandalf spent those 15 years between bilbos 111th birhtday and the quest going to village to village tran-sing peoples gender

-Faramir is trans and gandalf was able to give him the right treatment and binders when he was kid before denethor found out. Boromir was happy to have a brother.

-Merry learns how to knit so he can make baby Elanor hats.

-Gimli is the hottest dwarf of Erebor by dwarven standards

-Sam makes Frodo fried mushrooms because he knows its his favorite.

-Lobelia and bilbo have wlw and mlm rivalry

-Merry and Pippin love really weird food combos. Mushrooms and honey? delish. Cherries and salt? yummy. Vinegar cake? even better.

They force every one of the fellowship to try one of these combinations. Aragorn doesn't notice anything bad, Sam eats it because he is polite, Frodo doesn't mind the mushrooms and honey, Boromir throws up, Gimli tells him he should add more meat and Legolas never felt more betrayed in his life.

-Rosie cotton met Goldberry once and they had a sort of relationship where they kissed. She never saw her again, and she thinks it was a dream.

-Tom Bombadil and Goldberry are qpr

-Elladan and Elorhir wanted to adopt merry and pippin until they realized they were ADULTS.

Thats all I have for now! Theres so much more but these are the only ones I can think of without getting into a whole essay on what means what and all that. Thank you smm for the ask anon!!