#older; aralyn

[the-starry-seas]

so uhhh i was playing around with picrew and made three new OCs

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

aralyn reda is a famous singer, songwriter, cookie baker, and assassin (known by some very different groups of people). she can cry on command but 99% of the time she cries because she saw a guinea pig tiktok that was sooo cute. she has four of her own who are named daffodil, daisy, dandelion, and daylily. she loves the aesthetic of a fireplace but smoke makes her cough (undiagnosed adult-onset asthma). lizards scare her but she's been bitten by insects she picked up randomly at least seven times. her tā moko and the white streaks in her hair glow under blacklight. she always walks on berry's blind side and holds his hand when they're out and about.

berry atin can't be trusted around any bite-sized fruit because it will be totally gone before you can blink. he's got dad vibes through and through. "that's not going anywhere" when tying something down, beers at the grill, the whole planet hears when he sneezes. he's cried watcing 'ratatouille' three times. his quality of life improved drastically once he was able to start medication for an underactive thyroid and IBS. usually he's good about his ISB-safe diet but once in a while he needs to be stupid. he's two years older than the others, and they call him ori'vod as often as his name (he calls them little shits when he's truly angry with them and it makes them scatter immediately).

prey drive narser loves chasing things and has a working dog instinct to chase down people and round them up to do their assigned tasks. he and berry are the heads of aralyn's security team. prey drive manages them like it's a life and death situation at all times and genuinely has fun with it. people running away from him triggers his - you guessed it! - prey drive. he also runs recreationally, even when it's not strictly fun he finds it stimulating. he has thorn tattoos winding up from his right fingers and around his arm to a cluster of roses on his shoulder. he eats salt-and-vinegar chips by the family-sized bag and nobody's brave enough to ask him to share.

[razieltwelve]

Promethea: Chapter One

What follows is an unedited copy of the first chapter of an original story inspired by Whispers of the Gods. It was written in 2013, and it is presented here in its original form, so there will be grammatical mistakes and the like. As an aside, it is like looking into a time capsule. It is written in a style that I no longer favour, something more reminiscent of traditional high fantasy than my present style. It is the first book in what I intended to be a trilogy that I never got around to finishing.

As an aside, for some reason, I decided to write the entire story in Courier as opposed to my now favoured Times New Roman.

Let me know what you think.

Chapter One

    Aralyn did her best to keep up with her father, but he was so much bigger than her and the steps leading up to the shrine were too large for her to climb easily.

    “Wait,” she cried. “Father, wait!”

    He turned and his lips tugged up at the corners. A moment later, he let loose a merry chuckle and reached down to scoop her up into his arms.

    “You are so energetic sometimes that it is easy to forget how small your are.” He pressed his forehead against hers. “Just this once I will carry you up to the shrine. I have something very important to tell you, and I do not want you to be tired when you hear it.”

    “Thank you, father,” she said. He’d always been much nicer than the other adults. He was head of their clan, so she was always treated well, but almost no one had any time to play with her. “I promise to walk up on my own next time.”

    “That’s my girl.” He started back up the steps again, and she clung tightly to him as he raced up the steps with a speed that only the clan’s finest warriors could match. It made her want to giggle. It felt so close to flying.

    Around them, the night was still and quiet, but she was not afraid. Demons were more common at night, but she was with her father. He was the strongest man in the whole clan. There was no demon in the world that could beat him, she was sure of it.

    They reached the top of the steps moments later and there, her father paused. It was something he always did, and she could hardly blame him. Even at night, the shrine was the most beautiful building she had ever seen. It towered over the whole town from on top of the hill, all gleaming white stone and tall towers and domes. It was like something out of the legends people still told of the gods. It was old too, older than the town, as old as her clan.

    “Come on,” her father said as he put her back on the ground. “You can walk the rest of the way.”

    She hurried after him as he walked across the cobblestones to the entrance of the shrine. The guards there bowed as he passed and parted to make way for him. A few of them even nodded in her direction, and she returned the gesture with a happy wave and a smile. Her father glanced back, and she quickly put on a more serious face and gave the guards a solemn nod of her own. However, the grin on her father’s lips told her that she’d been caught, but that he didn’t mind.

    They made their way through the shrine to the great metal doors that protected the holiest place of all. There was writing on the doors, and though she could not read the words, she recognised the language. It was the language of the gods. Her father put his hands on the doors and the words shone as though they were written in fire.

    Beyond the doors there was a vast darkness lit by the light of a single candle. Slowly, she reached up to clutch at her father’s hand, but he gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze. Then he reached out with his other hand and called to the fire on the candle.

    The flame leapt and danced, and she felt something deep inside her tighten in response. Her father made a sweeping motion with his arm and the candle’s flame leapt to the far corners of the enormous room. There was a moment’s pause and then candles all along the walls lit up.

    She gasped. She had seen this room before, but even so, it was amazing. It was a great, circular room. Pews filled much of it, and the walls were lined with murals and writing that described the Old Days when gods had walked amongst men and battled demons. At the front of the room, her sword drawn and pointed forward was the life-sized statue of a woman.

    Almost with realising it, Aralyn found herself creeping forward to stand at the foot of the statue. The woman was so beautiful, even though she was made of stone. Her features were perfect with high cheeks, full lips, and a look that was at once stern yet feminine. She hoped very much that one day she could look like that.

    “You know who that is, don’t you, Aralyn?” her father asked, voice loud in the empty space of the shrine.

    “Promethea,” Aralyn whisper. This was the goddess of their clan, the protector of mankind, the wielder of the divine flame. “She’s so beautiful.”

    Her father chuckled softly. “I have no doubt at all that this statue pales in comparison to her. Still, it should be a reasonable likeness. It was made by the First Mother of our clan who learned the ways of battle from Promethea herself.” He smiled. “Tomorrow you will begin your real training in the ways of our clan, but tonight I will teach you of our history. After all, the day will come when you must take my place.”

    She turned to him in alarm. “No, father! You will be head of the clan forever!”

    He smiled again and ruffled her hair. “Do not worry, Aralyn. It will be many years before you have to take charge.” He led her to one of the murals. “These murals and writings tell the story of the our world, and this is where it begins.”

    She looked up at the mural. It was a vast slab of black with a tiny pinpoint of white in the middle.

    “In the beginning,” her father read from the writing beside the mural. “There was only darkness, a great, endless darkness. And then there was fire, a divine and heavenly fire. It burned the darkness to ashes and from the ashes arose the heavens and the earth.

    “In the heavens, the All Mother and All Father awoke, and together they took the boundless light and fire around them and created a place of beauty and glory. That place became the Divine Heavens, home of the gods.”

    The next mural showed the earth, a place of mountains, rivers and forests. The All Mother and All Father were there, shown as two glowing figures wreathed in light and fire.

    “Then the All Mother and All Father created the other gods. There were gods of wind, of fire, of water, and of countless other things. Together, the gods shaped the earth into a place that might one day hold life. Then, with their great power, the All Mother and All Father created mankind.

    “But alas, mankind was not perfect, and even the gods that the All Mother and All Father created were but a shadow of themselves. For they had not been created by the empyreal flame that birthed creation. Only the All Mother and All Father possessed some measure of that fire, and so only they could be perfect.”

    Her father led them to the next mural. “But for a time, all was good. Men lived in peace and spread across the earth, paying tribute to the gods that watched over them from the Divine Heavens. But the gods were not alone in watching mankind.”

    The next mural showed a creature hidden in darkness its eyes twin slashes of bloody red. “Demons watched mankind, and they were vile, wretched things that despised the gods and coveted the hearts and souls of mankind who had only ever turned toward the gods. So the demons decided to wage a terrible war upon mankind, a war that would strike fear and terror into our hearts and let them steal our souls away.

    “But the gods did not stand idly by. When the demons came, the gods descended from the Divine Heavens to do battle with them. But as mighty as the gods were, the demons were mighty as well. The battle went on for countless years, and the earth and sky were torn apart by the force of it. Men lived and died in an age of darkness and blood, powerless to defend themselves against the demons that even the gods could not overcome.”

    Aralyn looked up at the next mural. It showed a burning white ember held in the hands of the All Mother. Her father smiled.

    “Then one day, the All Mother found an ember. It was an ember from the Heart of Creation, the blazing fire that stands at the centre of all things, the same fire that once burned away the endless darkness to create all that we know. The All Mother took that ember and using her power, she gave it form. She would give mankind a protector, a goddess sworn to guard them above all others. This goddess would be a wielder of divine fire, a cleansing flame to annihilate the demons.”

    Her father gazed up at the goddess depicted in the following mural and bowed. “That goddess was Promethea. Born of the same empyreal flame that had birthed the All Mother and All Father, she was mightier than her brothers and sisters. Before her, even the greatest of demons trembled. Stern and unyielding, she stood as mankind’s most loyal protector.

    “Then one day, the demons launched a terrible attack and though Promethea fought with all her strength, many people were killed. On that day, Promethea vowed that she would teach mankind to fight as she did, to wield the divine fire that was hers to command. It was to the First Mother of our clan that Promethea taught not only the ways of the sword, but the secrets of fire as well. It is through Promethea that we can speak to fire, that we can wield it as both sword and shield against the demons.”

    Aralyn’s eyes were wide with awe. “What happened then, father?”

    “With our clan at her side, Promethea drove the demons back. Soon, other gods followed her example and granted some small measure of their power to the worthy. But in a moment of terrible desperation, the demons gathered all of their might and attacked not only the earth, but the Divine Heavens as well. They were pushed back, but not without great cost. Countless people fell, and countless gods as well.

    “It was then that the All Mother and All Father were forced to make terrible choice. If the gods could not destroy the demons then they would find another way to protect mankind. Using their power, the All Mother and All Father worked an awesome magic. They took the earth and tore it away from the Divine Heavens and Demonic Hells. No longer would gods or demons walk amongst men. So great was the power of their magic that all the gods were swept away and cast into slumber. Likewise, the demons too were cast out and left to wallow in their unholy domain.”

    Aralyn tugged on her father’s hand. “But, father, if the All Mother and All Father sent the demons away, why do we still have to fight them?”

    Her father sighed. “For many years there were no demons. But demons are cunning creatures, wise despite their evil. As the gods slumbered, they found ways back to our world. Luckily, there were those of us who still remembered how to fight as the gods had taught us, and now it falls to clans like ours to fight the demons.”

    Aralyn pursed her lips. “Is that why some people say that the gods have abandoned us?” No one from the clan believed that, but there were others from outside the clan who did.

    Her father nodded. “Yes, but those people are wrong.” His voice was firm and filled with utter certainty. “The gods did not abandon us. They left us with a means of fighting and one day they shall return. You see, the gods merely slumber and while they do, we must hold on. When they awaken then we shall stand shoulder to shoulder with them and drive the demons away forever.”

    “But how can you be sure?” Aralyn whispered. It frightened her to think that the gods might have forgotten mankind.

    Her father chuckled. “If the gods have abandoned us, if Promethea herself has truly forsaken us, then why can we still wield fire in her name?” He nodded firmly. “One day, Promethea will return to us and she will see that we have kept our faith all these long years. We have not forgotten the promise made by the First Mother of our clan.”

    Aralyn nodded back. The promise was something she had heard a thousand times, a vow made countless generations ago.

    He smiled. “We must honour Promethea’s ways and her duty. We must stand steadfast and unyielding with our brothers and sisters against the demons that would harm them. That was the promise the First Mother of our clan made, and that is a promise that we must always keep. Do you understand, Aralyn?”

    “Yes, father.” Aralyn knew that promises were important, and a promise to a goddess must be the most important of all.

    “Good,” her father said. “I have said enough tonight. Tomorrow, you beginning your training in earnest and for that you will need a good night’s rest.”

    As they left, her father drew the flames back to the candle at the centre of the room. Aralyn could not be sure, but in the flickering candlelight she thought she saw the statute of the goddess look right at her. Inside her, something quivered not in fear but in anticipation.

[yourdeepestfathoms]

teeth

(Read Anne as Courtney!Anne)

Aragon and Anne make the best mother duo and you Cannot Change My Mind

(you can read this as Aralyn if you want, but it’s not written in that way and the line is pretty vague tbh)

Word count: 4769

———————

There was a crash.

And then a crack.

And then a crunch.

The girl at the bottom of the stairs had her bottom jaw bent in a horrible position, her tongue lolling out of one side and bloody drool spilled all down her chin. Her eyes are upturned in her skull; she didn’t seem to be all there, though no one was surprised. Those broken bones must be excruciating.

———

Eight weeks of silence. A jaw wired shut. Almost three months of only eating liquidated foods. Black and blue floral bruising bloomed across the sides of her face. An eternity of humiliation.

———

In theory, it was difficult to miss Joan. Nineteen years of age and the workaholic music director stood at roughly 5’4, and it didn’t look like she was going to be growing again anytime soon. However, in practice, the girl was so quiet and self-enclosed that a lot of the time, she practically melted into the theater walls. That made it a slightly unpleasant surprise when Aragon was disturbed from her reading by a quiet tapping at her doorframe—it was most undignified for a queen as regal as herself to startle like that.

An irritable comment jumped to her lips, but it died as she looked up. Joan looked...worried. That wouldn’t normally strike her in any meaningful way, not if it was anyone else at her door—everyone got worried sometimes, although a fair number of people found it more difficult to talk to her than to others. But for all that had happened in her past, Joan had maintained a rarely-changing expression of passivity throughout the time she’d been reincarnated. Perhaps as a defense mechanism, perhaps simply because that was her resting face; the girl just kept her emotions to herself. However, now, it was incredibly visible that she was experiencing the worst kind of gnawing fear if you knew how to look for it. Nails digging into her arms as she crossed them over her chest, eyes darting all over, and her heel pressing against her other shin like she was trying to keep from anxious tapping. The only reason her lip wasn’t chewed raw was because of the wires and rubber bands anchoring her mouth firmly shut.

Immediately, the irritation turned to alarm bells.

The two just looked at each other for a few minutes, neither seemingly willing to break the silence first. Then, slowly, Joan took one step into the dressing room. Now her fingers were digging into her arm more. Aragon felt the strongest urge to get up from her chair and check to make sure she hadn’t broken skin, but at the same time, she feared that if she tried to move too quickly she would spook this very obviously troubled girl back into her usual repression. It would be wiser to wait for her to say whatever it was she was struggling to get out, but that didn’t make the decision any easier as a thousand and one possibilities as to what could have gone wrong raced through her head.

“May I talk to you, Aragon?”

The hesitation in the girl’s sign language only made those alarm bells ringing in her head louder. It was only her many, many years as a queen that allowed Aragon to keep her voice calm.

“Of course, Joan. Come, sit.”

Slowly, painfully so, Joan made her way to the chair opposite her, after closing the door to the dressing room behind her. But she didn’t sit down. Rather, she stood next to it. Ordinarily Aragon might have taken that as one of those little acts of rebellion Kitty liked to partake in from time to time, but not in this case. It felt more like the unwillingness of a confronted animal to lay down, for fear that they might need to flee at a moment's notice. That bad, then. Carefully, the queen put her bookmark in between the pages she was on and then set the book to the side. Whatever this was about, she doubted it would be over quickly.

“Now then, what is it you want to discuss?”

“Well… The director talked to me. He said I should take some time off to heal.” Joan signed.

“That’s good,” Aragon said. However, she noticed the frown set on Joan’s lips and realized that it was most definitely not a good thing.

“Maybe.” Joan let her hands go limp for a movement, then raised them again to continue. “But that got me thinking. Maybe, even after I heal, I should just leave the wires in. Seems like everyone would be happier without me talking.”

“Joan, you can’t seriously be thinking of doing that?”

Through great force of will Aragon managed to keep her tone mostly level, but even the very slight undertone of ice and steel buried under a dozen layers of constraint made Joan flinch.

“I-I just....”

“I don’t see why you think that’s a good idea. Do you know how damaging that could be for your mouth? It can’t remain shut forever.”

“Aragon-”

“Not to mention that you could put so many other factors at risk-”

“Aragon, please!”

Well that cut her off sharply.

For a moment Aragon just blinked at the girl, startled. This was perhaps the first time she had heard Joan raise her voice at anybody, let alone a queen. It was especially shocking because it had come out more as a strangled hiss between firmly clamped teeth, like the freezing whisper of a fanged glacier. But as she got over that element of surprise, she noticed two things about the girl standing before her. Firstly, it was that she was shaking, quite badly, actually. And secondly, that the bruises along her cheeks were ignited in shades of ivory and indigo and violet from the way she had been clenching her jaws through their bindings.

Moving oh-so-carefully, Aragon up her purse and began to rifle through it. Joan stepped back, but what she brought out wasn’t some form of weapon, but rather a small tin box. A box which Aragon opened and turned towards her.

“Have a mint, Joan.”

Joan just looked at her, baffled.

Aragon quickly realized her mistake and grimaced. It gets the smallest, weakest smile from Joan. She takes one, despite knowing she couldn’t eat it, signed a rapid apology, then left.

———

Trudging into the coffee shop during a fire-breathing rainstorm made Joan miserable enough, but it only got worse when the shrewd older woman working the counter wouldn’t take her order when she attempted to sign it to her and then write it out.

“I’m sorry, but you’re going to need to use your words.” She oozed.

Joan gestured for her bruised mouth and then bared her teeth so she could show the woman that they were firmly clamped shut with rubber bands. The worker leaned back slightly in distaste.

“Well, I don’t know what to tell you,” She said. “Mutes aren’t our top priority here. You can just wait your turn while I handle the other customers.”

Joan waved her head around to find the shop completely empty thanks to the storm outside. She turned back to the worker with an “are you kidding me?” look.

“She’s in the bathroom.” The worker said cooly.

Joan glowered, but her anger quickly dissolved and she made the closest thing to a sigh that she could manage. She stepped away from the counter and waited.

Several long moments passed. The rain outside continuously eased up and then fell harder as if Mother Nature couldn’t decide if she wanted to flood the city today or not. The worker behind the counter kept glancing at Joan, hoping that she would just give up and leave. She was now regretting telling her to wait because it meant she had some disabled kid just loitering in her store when the front door suddenly swung open.

Two haughty American tourists came in with a spray of raindrops, closing their umbrellas, but keeping up their giddy chatter as they approached the counter. One of them glanced at Joan with a questioning look. The worker waved a dismissive hand.

“Ignore her,” She said. “She’s waiting her turn until she learns how to speak up.”

Joan glared and, once again, gestured for her mouth.

“What is wrong with you?” One of the two customers said, pacing around Joan while the other placed an order. “Why don’t you speak?” He eyed Joan’s bruised jaw. “Ohhh. I see.”

“My little brother broke his jaw once,” His friend piped up. “He couldn’t talk for two months!”

“What does it feel like?” The one in front of Joan asked. “Does it hurt?”

Then, without warning, he poked her roughly in the jaw, as if he were trying to pry it open himself. Joan swatted his hands away frantically and reared back, rubbing the area that had been touched. Pain spiraled from her mouth all over again.

“Don’t be a brute.” Said a sharp, barbed voice from behind Joan.

“Oh, hey!” The customer at the counter said. “You’re Anne Boleyn, aren’t you?”

Joan turned and was shocked to see that it was, in fact, Anne Boleyn herself standing there. Her arms were crossed firmly over her chest and her eyes narrowed in a venomous glare. She looked like a coiled up snake ready to lunge.

“Yes,” Anne said, casting a dark glare down on the customers, who step away, sensing her anger. She comes up beside Joan and sets a comforting, protective hand on her shoulder. “You will not touch her again.”

The two tourists nodded and awkwardly sidled away to take their drinks and scamper out with their proverbial tails tucked between their legs.

“Now,” Anne turned her glower on the worker. “I understand that Joan had wanted something?”

“She can wait. You were here first.” The worker said.

Anne ruffled. “Serve her right now.” She snarled lowly, and even Joan was startled by her sudden tone. It was as deep and rumbling as a big cat’s growl, yet cold and scaly like a King Cobra.

The worker didn’t dare quarrel with the woman, so she plucked up the piece of paper left on the counter with Joan’s order and began to make the drink. The whole time, Joan stood still at Anne’s side, eyes wide.

After the drink was finished, Anne ordered one of her own, paid, and then guided Joan over to the front of the shop. She’s not at all bristled anymore and wore a warm smile on her lips.

“That was fun,” She chuckled lightly. “Say, kiddo, wanna come over for dinner? Sudden, I know-“ She laughed this time, a hearty, real one. “But I want to keep an eye on you. Plus, I know we’re having soup tonight. You can eat soup, can’t you?”

Joan nodded, flustered. Anne’s grin grew wider.

“Wonderful.”

—

“We have company!” Anne chimed loudly as she walked through the front door with a fidgeting Joan in tow.

Several heads popped up from an area in the downstairs area, each wearing a different expression- Cathy at the dining table with a curious look, Kitty and Jane on the couch with matching bitter frowns, Cleves from the downstairs hallway with friendly eyes, and Aragon in the kitchen with a warm grin. All Joan can do is give a tiny wave and a nervous smile.

“Hello, dear,” Aragon greeted as Anne and Joan walked over to the kitchen counter. The smell of basil and tomatoes drifted from the pot she was stirring. Anne’s memory hadn’t failed her- they were eating soup that night.

“Hello, beautiful.” Anne replied and Aragon shot her a look, although Joan could tell it was mock-annoyance. “I found this little rascal,” She set a hand on Joan’s head. “at that coffee shop with really good hot chocolate but really shitty workers.”

Aragon knew exactly what she meant, as she gave a knowing nod.

“Ah. That one.” She shook her head, looking back down at the pot. “I’m not sure what they did, but I’ll make sure to leave a one-star review on Yelp.”

Anne laughed, and even Joan gave a tiny giggle.

“Oh! I should show you my falcon before dinner!”

“It’s raining,” Jane said helpfully from the couch. Anne gave her a snake-like glower.

“Don’t be a buzzkill,” She said. “Come on, my darling!”

She grabbed Joan by the hand and led her out to the backyard, missing the blush that dusted her cheeks from the use of the pet name.

The two of them walk out to the backyard, Joan holding an umbrella over their heads, and towards a large wooden structure. It sort of looked like a house with a metal net grating over the sides. Joan could see several perches from inside it.

Anne gave her a wild smile before she slipped on a glove and opened the small door on the front. She held her arm into the pen and then pulled back after a moment, a beautiful brown and grey falcon perched on her wrist. Joan goggles at it with wide eyes.

“This is Baguette.” Anne said. “Just kidding! Her name is Freya. Isn’t she pretty?”

Joan nodded excitedly.

“Watch this.” Anne grinned. “Freya! Hup!”

Anne threw a leather lure as high as she could in the air and Freya shot off of her arm like a rocket. Her wings were primed and they slammed down with more than enough force to send her spiraling into the sky. He darted after the lure, and Anne snapped the cord attached to it, sending the mouse-sized lump off to the side, spinning like a satellite on a line around her. Freya banked, flying up and away a short way before looping around and diving at the lure. It’s clear that she is very good at this game, but Anne had learned just the right moment to change the angle of her swing, switching the direction the lure is sailing and throwing her off just enough that she has to make another pass.

Anne twirled the lure like a lasso, changing the pitch and yaw of the loops, sending it higher, lower, and in sweeping waves. Freya moves like a lightning strike in a hurricane, dive bombing one moment just as she yanks it away, rising back to circle, prepare, and dive again.

They fall into a rhythm, just different enough to keep them on their toes, but solid enough that the rest of the world faded away, until Freya broke off suddenly, catching a glimpse of something else.

“Freya!” Anne shouted as Joan giggled softly beside her. She snapped the lure in an attempt to catch her bird’s attention. “Come on! You’re making a bad first impression!”

Freya wheeled around after a moment and soared back down to the two. She lands dutifully on Anne’s outstretched arm, but is clearly a little crabby about not being able to catch her prey. She eases up when Anne gives her a treat.

“Wanna hold her?” Anne asked Joan, who nodded eagerly. She passed the girl a glove, which she quickly pulled on. “Okay. Be very careful, okay? And don’t freak out.”

Anne took the umbrella and passed Freya over to Joan. The bird stepped onto the younger girl’s arms and flexed her razor sharp talons around the glove, squeezing Joan’s wrist. Joan eyed the claws wryly.

Anne could tell Joan had a million questions, but her wired jaw kept her from verbalizing them. All she could do was stare at the falcon and the falconer with saucer-wide eyes.

“Dinner’s ready!” Aragon suddenly called from the back door.

Joan jolted a little and instinctively leaned away, but Freya remained poised on her arm. Anne laughed and put her bird back into her pen.

“Impressed?” She grinned.

Joan nodded.

“Good!” Anne said. “Now, let’s get inside before Catalina starts yelling at us about catching our death out here or something.”

The two of them walked back inside the house, being hit by the wonderful smell of the soup, which Aragon was pouring into seven different colored bowls. She smiled at them.

“Have fun?”

“Yup!” Anne said. “Joan was very impressed.”

Joan gave two thumbs up in agreement. Aragon’s heart melted.

“Why are there seven bowls?” Kitty asked obnoxiously.

“Uhh. Joan.” Aragon answered, blinking. “You should know that, Kat. She’s standing right there.”

“Yeah, but... Can she even eat?”

“Kit, don’t be stupid,” Anne said, slightly defensive. “Come on, stop acting like this. You know damn well that the doctors wouldn’t wire her jaw shut for a long period of time if she wouldn’t be able to eat or drink for that long.”

Kitty is clearly miffed by her cousin not being on her side and shoots a glare at Joan for it. Then, she raised her nose, looked away, and huffed out an annoyed breath.

“How long will the wires be there?” Cathy asked curiously.

Joan held up eight fingers.

“Weeks?”

She nodded.

There was a swell of murmurs- intrigued, pitiful, amused. Aragon was the one who grimaced.

“I couldn’t imagine that,” She said, rubbing her own jaw as if she thought it might spontaneously break. “Not being able to open my mouth for that long.”

“It’s like reverse lockjaw,” Cleves observed. “Just with less seizures.”

“Does it hurt?” Cathy asked.

Joan made a so-so gesture and then set a tentative hand on one of her heavily bruised cheeks, remembering the touch from that rude tourist. Ever since she had been prodded, her jaw had started hurting again. It felt like someone was trying to forcefully pry her mouth open with a crowbar.

She tried to just ignore it and sat down at the dinner table after getting her bowl. The soup was a lot chunkier than she had been expecting; she looked at the slices of potato in dismay, unsure how she would get them past her firm wall of teeth.

“Need a straw?” Kitty teased. She yelped loudly when Anne kicked her underneath the table.

Joan scowled at the pink queen, then brought a spoonful of soup to her lips. She had to awkwardly tip her head back slightly to make sure she didn’t spill anything on her. Sadly, her teeth were too bound together by rubber-bands to keep her jaws from moving from opening just a sliver to allow the bits of meat and potato to pass through, so only the liquids that flow through the random holes between her teeth reach her throat and stomach.

It had been much easier to drink her coffee.

“Sweetheart,” Aragon said, unable to watch the poor girl struggle any longer. “I’ll get the blender.”

Joan hunched her shoulders, embarrassed. Kitty tittered. Anne kicked her again.

“Ow!” Kitty whined. “Stop doing that!”

“Then stop being a brat.” Anne said cooly.

“I’m not a brat!”

“Well, you’re acting like one right now.”

“This is very entertaining.” Cleves commented. Anne flashed her an agreeing grin. Kitty sulked.

The loud sound of the blender stopped the argument from continuing. A few moments later, Aragon set a cup of blended soup with a straw in front of Joan. Joan gawked at it and then looked up at Aragon, one eyebrow raised. Aragon quickly swiped the straw.

“First the mint and now this?” Anne laughed.

“What mint?” Cathy asked.

“Catalina apparently offered Joan a mint earlier.” Anne told her.

Laughter erupted around the table. Aragon rolled her eyes as she sat back down.

“It was a mistake!” She tried to defend herself. “And an accident!”

Joan gave her a small smile before going back to eating. Well- drinking. Although, it wasn’t much easier. She wished she had the syringe she had been using for the past two days or the tube the doctors had used with her.

She quickly licked off the thick caking of soup on her lips, hoping that nobody had noticed it was there, then saw Kitty leering at her. She bristled and raised her eyebrows as if to say, “What?”

“What’s the name of that Warriors cat with the weird jaw?” Kitty asked the rest of the group, pleasantly pretending like Joan wasn’t sitting just a few feet away from her.

“Crookedjaw?” Cathy answered.

“Yeah!” Kitty turned to Joan with a smile as crooked as the girl’s mouth. “We can call you Crookedjaw! Seems like a fitting nickname.”

Anne gaped in horror at her younger cousin. She was so startled that she couldn’t even kick the queen. Aragon, on the other hand, wasn’t as stricken as she was.

“Katherine, what the fuck?” Aragon seethed.

“What?” Kitty said innocently. “It fits her!”

“Are you fucking nuts?” Aragon said, eyes wide and burning like hot embers. “No, actually- are you stupid?”

“She was just messing around, Catherine.” Jane tried to smooth things over.

“Don’t defend her!” Aragon snapped. “You should tighten the leash on her.”

“She’s not a dog.” Jane hissed.

“And yet she’s as annoying as a chihuahua that never shuts up,” Aragon said. She stood up, grabbed her bowl, and walked over to Joan. “Come on, Joan.”

Joan got up and followed her to the staircase. Anne went with them, but not without rounding on her cousin.

“If you’re going to call her Crookedjaw, then maybe we should start calling you Lostneck or Severedhead.” She said coldly. A mocking smile curled on her lips. “Because it fits.”

Kitty went rigid, but neither Anne or Aragon stuck around for her possible panic attack. They herd Joan upstairs and to Aragon’s room.

“I am so sorry, Joan.” Anne said once they were inside. “I don’t know what’s gotten into her.”

“She thinks everything will be handed to her on a silver platter.” Aragon stated as she began to rummage through her pajamas. “Entitled brat. Just like you said.”

Anne nodded in agreement, then looked back at Joan. She carefully cupped one of her cheeks.

“Are you okay, my darling?”

Joan closed her eyes, unconsciously leaned into the touch, and nodded.

“Alright.” Anne said. “So... Movie night?”

“Sounds good to me,” Aragon said. She tossed a pair of pajamas over to Joan. “They might be a little big, but you can wear these.”

Joan nodded and padded off to the bathroom to change. When she returns, she finds Aragon and Anne already situated on the bed in their pajamas. Aragon was clad in a pale yellow nightgown with white rims and a bow near the collar, while Anne was dressed in green cotton sleeping pants and a button-down shirt of the same color. Joan looked a lot less fancy in a grey T-shirt with something about a fishing competition embroidered in white on it, which she had no idea what the origins of it being Catherine of Aragon’s dresser were, and some black gym shorts.

“Come on,” Anne waved her over, rolling out of the bed. “Lay down!”

It takes Joan a moment to realize she was supposed to lay in between them. She swallowed down her flustered feelings and obeyed, clambering up the side of the bed and sitting beside Aragon with her knees huddled close to her chest. She could feel the golden queen’s comforting warmth wavering off of her half-reclined body.

God, she was pathetic. Ever since Anne she touched her shoulder at that coffee shop something had awoken within her and refused to go back to sleep.

That something ranged from a persistently mewing kitten to a starved, roaring lion—she’d tried for a sheep or goat metaphor, because that seemed more fitting for her, but frankly, sheep were a good bit easier to manage than whatever this was.

Joan pointed to the TV as movies were flicked through and then gave each queen a questioning look. She knew she could sign, but she didn’t feel like putting Anne and Aragon through the process of having to translate what she was saying. Plus, just being completely quiet and onto using facial features and occasional gestures like this almost felt...serene.

“We’re watching Hush.” Anne said, smirking slightly. “Which has absolutely nothing to do with you not being able to talk, I promise.”

Joan giggled softly and nodded.

“Only because you lost Rock, Paper, Scissors.” Aragon retorted. She looked at Joan with motherly concern that nearly sent Joan keeling over into her chest crying. “Are you okay to watch it?”

Joan nodded. She could take it, really! She wasn’t a baby!

And yet, when the neighbor character is suddenly slammed against the glass backdoor with a knife in her gut, she still lurched backwards and nearly climbed up the headboard in fear. Anne laughed sympathetically, while Aragon gently touched her hand.

“Are you okay, sweet girl?” She asked softly.

Joan nodded, but still ducked her head away from the screen, wincing.

Aragon watched the poor girl cringe for two more minutes before she wrapped her up in her arms and pulled her securely against her chest. Joan was clearly surprised by this, but didn’t make any move to pull away. In fact, she burrowed deep into her embrace.

“Awww,” Anne cooed, glancing at the two of them. “So cute.”

“Jealous?” Aragon smirked.

Anne stuck her tongue out at her, then resumed watching.

Joan peeked out from where she had her face smothered in Aragon’s soft chest and begrudgingly continued to watch the movie because she was interested in it, she was just a tad bit frightened by it. But, again, it was okay! SHE was okay!

And then they got to the closeup of Maddie’s hand being broken and the memory of falling down the stairs flashed through Joan’s brain- slipping and falling, tumbling down each step, smashing her jaw into the tile at the bottom, the bones in her mouth crunching and cracking and grinding, her teeth cutting into her tongue and feeling like it had been severed completely, blood gargling in her throat, everyone staring at her. It was horrific, it STILL WAS horrific.

“Anne!” Aragon barked when Joan whimpered and hid her face back into her chest.

“I didn’t know that was in it!” Anne said, raising her hands. “This is the first time I’m seeing this!”

Anne paused the movie and turned to Joan, who was shaking in Aragon’s arm. She gently began to rub her back comfortingly, seeing as Aragon was already stroking her hair.

“Joan? My darling?” Anne called. “Are you okay?”

Joan nodded weakly, sniffling. She raised her head and Aragon immediately wiped away the tears in her eyes.

“Oh, you poor thing,” Aragon murmured.

“Does anything hurt?” Anne asked. “Or did you just get scared?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Aragon nodded. “What she said! Are you hurting?”

Joan shrugged, looking away. Aragon slapped Anne’s arm frantically.

“Go get painkillers.”

“Catalina, how is she supposed to swallow a PILL?” Anne cried.

“Oh no, you’re right!” Aragon pulled Joan close to her bosom and bright red mixed awkwardly with purple and blue on the girl’s face. “My baby’s going to die!” She said woefully.

“She’s not going to—” Anne had to stop to give Aragon a confused looked. “She’s not going to die, Catalina.” She glanced momentarily at Joan smooshed against her chest. “I mean, not from not taking a pill, but your tits might suffocate her to death.”

Aragon looked down at Joan and quickly pushed her back. She cleared her throat and smoothed out her nightgown.

“Yes. Of course.” She said and Anne and Joan both laughed. She gave them a look. “I was just acting! I am an actor. And you fell for it!”

Anne rolled her eyes in a good natured way. “Yeah, okay.”

After making sure Joan was completely okay, they ended up switching the movie to The Incredibles 2. Joan was still very giddy from the way both queens fussed over her, and yet she still found her eyelids drooping shut...

—

“Catalina, look,” Anne whispered.

Aragon turned her attention away from the movie to look at Joan curled against Anne, soundly asleep. Then, she noticed one of the girl’s hands grasping three of her fingers- apparently she couldn’t find the other two in her tired daze. Her heart absolutely melted.

“Oh my,” She murmured. “What a sweet girl.”

“I know,” Anne grinned. “She’s so cute.” She leaned down to press a soft kiss to the top of Joan’s head, causing her to stir with a sleepy noise before settling down. Anne gently began to stroke her hair.

Aragon moved closer until she and Anne were practically sandwiching the girl with their bodies. Joan seemed content, though, as she would constantly nuzzle closer to the warmth and touch.

Perhaps the eight weeks wouldn’t be so bad after all...

[ranjxtul]

Personal Jesus

Okay loves, this some really heavy aralyn angst. Please be careful for trigger warnings of miscarriages, blood, and hospitals. Otherwise, enjoy the fact that every single medical personnel’s name comes from Casualty, oops. And here’s a shout out to my gay sibling @lailaliquorice for hammering out the details of the bio in this one! Love you babes!

Deciding she and Anne wanted to have a child had been an easy decision. Once their lives had settled down and they’d settled into married life, the question had come up, and the natural answer had been yes.

Both women had been mothers in their past lives, and they did miss Elizabeth and Mary, but the idea that they could have their own child and have a family in this life was an overwhelmingly appealing idea. Then came the question of adoption versus surrogacy. Both options had their merits, but ultimately Anne and Catherine picked surrogacy and Aragon would carry.

The process as a whole was nerve wracking to say the least, from preemptive appointments, picking a sperm donor, the procedure itself and then finally seeing if Catherine was actually pregnant. Both Anne and Aragon would lie if they said they hadn’t cried when they found out they were expecting. The news had surprised Catherine in a way, especially considering her past life and her luck with pregnancy, that and the fact that she was older than the rest of the queens.

Catherine had waited about a month after the procedure to check and see if she was pregnant. She didn’t want any false positives to her hopes up. It was an agonizing wait, and finally it got the better of her.

One morning before Anne awoke she slipped out of bed to take one of the pregnancy tests she’d bought a few weeks ago. The five minutes of waiting after the test, were even worse than month she waited to even try.

When she looked down, a surprised gasp left her mouth. “Anne!” She called from her spot leaning against the bathroom counter. The brunette was still asleep, but she needed to know. “Anne!!” Catherine called again, this time a bit louder.

“Hm?” Came a disgruntled groan followed by the sound of feet padding into the bathroom.

“I’m pregnant,” Catherine whispered holding the test out to Anne.

The brunette’s sleep ridden state immediately disappeared and her eyes widened, “Holy shit! Really?” She leaned over to look at the test, covering her mouth in shock.

That was all it took for Catherine’s eyes to start watering in that situation. “We’re having a baby,” she confirmed, putting the test on the counter to wrap Anne in a hug and before they knew it, both women were crying happy tears at the joyous news.

The worry that anything would go wrong dissipated as Catherine’s first trimester went about as smoothly as she could have imagined. Sure, she’d forgotten how much she despised morning sickness and how odd cravings could be, but the excitement she and Anne had for their family and their baby surpassed any petty worry.

The other queens had been thrilled to hear the news when the couple announced it. Katherine had thrown herself at the couple hugging them, the others not far behind. Jane was always happy to see sonogram pictures, Parr or Katherine might indulge some of Catherine’s odd cravings with her.  However, they ducked out at the oddest ones which so far had been almond butter on jalapeños and pineapple with peanut butter. Anna and Anne actually had a running bet about the sex of the baby. Anne believed it’d be a boy, and Anna believed it’d be a girl. Catherine had refused to let them put money on it though, so instead the loser had to buy the other dinner.

When the time came for the eighteen week sonogram, Anne and Catherine discovered that Anna was the winner of the bet. They were having a girl. At first, Catherine cried again, and Anne teared up. Then on the way out of the office, Anne huffed, “Can’t wait for Anna to be right,” which gleaned a laugh from Catherine.

Later on that night, all six of the queens sat in the living room, waiting for Anne and Aragon to announce what they were having. The couple had strayed away from any sort of party after some thought. They wanted to keep the celebration familial and intimate, so they’d agreed to a dinner out after revealing the sex of the baby.

“Please, the suspense is killing us,” Katherine groaned, watching Anne and Catherine, sit together their faces calm.

“Just for that I think we’ll wait a bit longer,” Anne teased.

Parr rolled her eyes, “Really? Come on, you’ve been dragging this out for at least an hour since you got home.” She was excited for her godmother and good friend, and just as much as anyone else wanted to know any details about the baby.

Aragon shared a glance with Anne, “I think we’ve built the suspense up enough, yeah?” She raised a brow at her wife.

Anne tilted her head, she was enjoying her little game of suspense, ever since she’d found out there’d also been an undeniable giddy excitement brewing in her being from the moment she’d found out they were going to have a little girl. “Fair enough. You want to say it or should I?” She asked.

Catherine considered for a second, “It doesn’t matter to me.”

“Then you can, you’re the one carrying h-“ she stopped herself before the word ‘her’ could escape her mouth fully.

Catherine nodded toward Anne with a short laugh before turning to face four very impatient women. “We’re having a girl.”

Not a second after the words left her mouth, with a short yip of excitement Parr launched herself toward the pair for a hug. Anna and Katherine made it next with Jane coming in last by only a millisecond. Overlapping congratulatory sentiments filled Catherine and Anne’s ears.

Finally after an exceptionally long hug, the other queens pulled back and before anyone else could speak, Catherine spoke up, “Are we ready to go eat? I’m absolutely starving.”

“Well where are we actually going to eat?” Asked Anna. “It’s your pick,” she added nodding toward the couple. “Seeing as it’s your night of celebration.”

Aragon looked to Anne for an answer who raised a brow, “Thai food?” She shrugged, looking for Catherine’s approval.

“Fine by me,” Aragon nodded.

“Great, let’s go,” Jane said from the side of the group, breaking away to get her purse and car keys.

Later that night, Aragon flopped into bed with a groan, “I wish I hadn’t eaten as much as I had. God that was so much food.”

Anne laughed lying beside her and pulling her wife closer into her. She let her hand fall to the rounding baby bump on Catherine’s abdomen, “Well, I’m sure little miss was hungry.”

“Yeah, but now I’m stuffed, my god,” Catherine complained shaking her head.

“You’re complaining now, but in the morning when you’re starving you’ll wish some of this feeling carried over,” Anne teased, leaning over to turn the bedside lamp off.

“Whatever,” Catherine huffed pulling the blankets up around the two of them. She rolled over briefly to land a quick kiss on Anne’s lips. “I love you.”

Anne smiled, “I love you too.” Catherine returned the smile before rolling back over so she was pressed up against Anne’s warm body once more, and despite the ache in her stomach, she fell nearly straight to sleep. She hadn't realized how tired she’d been apparently, but she supposed that came with pregnancy, being more exhausted than she realized.

The next time Anne opened her eyes, she expected her eyes to bombarded by aggressive sun shining through their window and not a warm liquid dampening the sheets. Immediately she just assumed she or Catherine had started their period asleep, that’d happened before.

Then it didn’t add up, she’d had hers the week before and Catherine was pregnant. That was when alarms went off in Anne’s mind. Immediately she rolled over to turn on the bedside lamp and much to her dismay, their pale grey sheets had a growing brownish crimson stain spreading around Catherine. Shit, Anne thought to herself. Her mind whirled with what could be happening and when she recognized the signs, her stomach dropped in a way she never wanted to experience again.

She shook Catherine awake vigorously, “Catherine! Babe!” It didn’t take much for the first queen’s eyes to shoot open and before her brain could catch up with reality seizing pains in her abdomen occupied the forefront of her consciousness. “Fuck!” She hissed.

“I’m calling 999,” came Anne’s voice from beside her. Catherine put two and two together. The pain, the emergency number. No. No. This couldn’t be happening again, no not to her.

Blindly, and with a futile prayer this was a nightmare she felt the bedsheets for the telltale sign of blood. She didn’t need to open her eyes for a conformation, but she did anyway.

The sight terrified her just as it had in her past life and even more now. Another wave of excruciating physical pain washed over Catherine’s whole body and she let out a groan, only noticing the hot tears running down her face right then and there.

Anne’s face came into her field of vision, this time kneeling beside the bed to take her hand, sad recognition in her eyes of what was happening apparent. She took on of Catherine’s hands, “It’s all gonna be okay,” she tried to promise her voice coming out strained.

How could it be okay? They were losing their daughter? Both of them knew it and both of them were powerless to change it. She also knew she could lose Catherine. There was already so much blood, and she had no idea how long she’d been bleeding. From the looks of it too long. With one hand, Anne reached out to wipe a few of the falling tears on Catherine’s face.

Catherine wanted to scream that it wasn’t okay, it wasn’t okay in anyway shape or form. How had their doctor not noticed something was wrong? As much her brain wanted to fixate on the tragedy of the situation, another crushing wave of pain consumed her body, and her head began to spin. “Hurts,” she finally managed out to Anne as she waited for the nausea to subside. It didn’t.

Anne bit back her own tears. She had to be strong for her wife. She could cry when she was in private. “The paramedics should be here soon and they’ll get you to the hospital.” Catherine gave only a faint nod of recognition as her vision started to go in and out of focus.

The pain in her abdomen felt just like it had the five times in her other life, but this time it hurt ten times more. She didn’t understand how or why, but it did. Maybe it was because she was completely aware of what was happening or because of how well everything had gone up until this point.

That was the rub of everything wasn’t it? Everything had been too easy, too perfect. There’d been no complications and everyone had been too happy about this baby. There was no Henry looming around making threats about what if it was a girl and she hadn’t had any trouble actually getting pregnant.

She and Anne were supposed to be happy. They were supposed to be six months away from starting a family, but Catherine’s body had failed them. She’d failed Anne. As that thought crossed her mind, her eyes started to droop shut.

“Fuck,” Anne mumbled to herself. “Catalina, Catalina, stay awake! Stay awake!” She pleaded panic seeping into her voice. The maladies of exsanguination paid no mind to Anne’s pleas as they caused Catherine to fade into unconsciousness.

“Fuck,” Anne repeated to herself, her breathing more ragged than before. Then, a knock at the door jerked her out of the haze and she bolted downstairs to let the paramedics in.

“My name’s Ian,” the lead introduced.

“Anne,” Anne nodded back shakily. “My wife, the one I called about- she’s- she’s upstairs. Can we hurry? She’s just passed out.” At the words ‘passed out’ Ian and the blonde female with him nodded.

“Lead the way, and tell us as much as you can on the way up.”

Anne nodded, taking a light jog toward the stairs, hoping the two could keep up with their equipment. “So Catherine, she was eighteen weeks pregnant. I woke up and there was too much blood in the bed… I- I know what that means for our baby,” Anne forced herself to swallow the tears that threatened to break at saying it aloud. “But I’m worried about her.”

When the trio reached Anne and Catherine’s bedroom Ian and the blonde whom Anne had learned was named Ruby, took immediate action and moved Catherine to a stretcher, assessing things as they went and calling different things out to each other. “You can ride with her in the ambulance if you want,” Ruby offered kindly.

“Yeah,” Anne nodded following them out. She only slipped on a pair of sandals and grabbed a jacket, ignoring the blood stains on her pajamas. What if Catherine wasn’t okay? What if she died? Anne couldn’t handle that. She didn’t know much about medicine, but she did know that it looked like Catherine had lost a lot of blood.

On the ambulance, in order to occupy her mind, she texted the queens about what had happened, and quickly wiped away any of the tears that fell. Each time she looked at her wife, she became more and more frightened. She was so pale and lifeless looking, and they’d lost their little girl. Anne simply requested that someone bring her a different pair of clothes to change into and that everyone hurry and get to the hospital as soon as possible.

Once the ambulance arrived, Anne unfortunately had to watch helplessly as paramedics wheeled Catherine in directly to resus, barring her from following. This left her to a dismal waiting room and her own thoughts.

With each passing moment, and no update, Anne felt more and more nauseous. People probably stared at the blood staining her pajamas, but she couldn’t bring herself to care. What was the point?

In reality much time hadn’t passed since they’d brought Catherine into resus, but it felt like an eternity. Each second that ticked by taunted Anne. She’d already lost tonight and she couldn’t lose again.

Finally, a female doctor with a severe bob exited the room and asked one of the paramedics who’d been lingering something. Then the doctor made her way over to Anne. “You’re Catherine Boleyn’s wife?” She asked.

Anne stood with a nod, for once in her life, completely speechless. “I’m Dr. Beauchamp. They’re taking her up to theatre now. She had a miscarriage and she’s losing blood quickly. They’re doing everything they can,” the woman’s tone was brittle and exhausted, but not unkind.

“Thank you,” Anne said forcing another nod, and a grim smile. God, that expression felt so out of place considering the circumstances.

“Of course,” Beauchamp excused herself moving away so Anne could have her space. Listlessly, the brunette flopped into the chair. The words ‘losing blood’ echoed in her mind. Was it too much blood? She knew bleeding happened in miscarriages but was this much common?

Soon, the remaining four queens made their way into the hospital. It didn’t take much to pick Anne out in the ED waiting room. “Love?” Jane questioned softly as they approached.

At Jane’s soft tone, Anne jerked her head up and the kindness in her eyes was enough. She stood and threw her arms around Jane, burying her head in the shorter queens’ shoulder as best she could to mask her tears.

Without a moment’s hesitation, Jane wrapped Anne in a hug. She wouldn’t tell her it’d be okay, because she knew for a long time it wouldn’t be. The couple had been so hopeful and so happy about this baby, and to have Catherine miscarry was earth-shattering. She held Anne, rubbing her back gently with one hand and muttering affirmations of her presence every once in a while.

Meanwhile, Parr and Anna had gone to speak to a nurse to find out information on Catherine. Asking Anne would be insult to injury. “Your relations to her?” Asked a brunette nurse.

“Goddaughter,” Parr nodded.

“Sister,” Anna quickly supplied. God, she didn’t know what she would do if Catherine wasn’t okay. If something happened to her best friend also tonight, she couldn’t handle it.

“She’s in surgery,” the same brunette nurse confirmed. “They’ve just taken her up. We’ll let anyone know when we have more word.”

“Thank you,” Parr nodded with a small smile, her own worries buzzing in her stomach. She was sad for Anne and Aragon of course, but she was also angry at God. Why had this happened to them? Why did fate just have to be so cruel and hurt the people she loved? She supposed there was a medical reason behind it all as to why it happened, but that didn’t answer her why.

When Cleves and Part returned, Anne had gone to change into the other clothes and Jane and Katherine sat beside each other, similar dismal looks plastered on their faces.

Katherine fidgeted with her fingers as she sat, a tell-tale sign of anxiety. She warily glanced up as Anne returned to sink into the seat beside Katherine. Immediately, the pink haired queen leaned against Anne, wrapping her arms around her in an effort to provide some semblance of comfort. “Love you, Annie,” she mumbled.

The usage of the nickname brought a brief ember of light to Anne’s now dull eyes. She only hummed in response. Crying had tired her out, and now a numbness sat in on her mind as she processed the events of the night. She’d gone to sleep thinking she’d wake up just like normal with her wife beside her and their soon to be daughter safe, but somewhere something had gone wrong.

When the surgeon had news for the queens, she led them up to the ward as she explained, “She ended up losing a lot of blood in the surgery. We tried to replenish as we went, but she’ll need transfusions still. There’s no guarantee how long she’ll be under, sometimes people come out of the anesthesia quickly or it takes a bit longer. If you need anything, or if anything changes you can push the call button for a nurse. Not all of you will be able to stay the rest of the night, only immediate family. Do you have any questions?”

Anne stayed silent for a moment as she contemplated the question that came to mind, ultimately deciding to get it over with. “Why’d she miscarry?” She cringed at the sound of her voice. It  was much too fragile for her own liking. She sounded broken.

The surgeon stopped outside of a room, presumably Catherine’s, with a sigh. “We don’t know yet. We’re waiting on a blood panel to come back and see if that gives us any answers,” she shook her head sympathetically. “I promise once we know something you’ll immediately know.”

Blankly, Anne nodded. What if there was no medical cause, and it had just been some cruel trick of fate? Seeing that Anne was going to respond, Cleves spoke up,”Thank you.”

The surgeon nodded,”Of course. If you don’t have any questions I’ll leave you to figure out the visiting situation?”

Anna nodded, “Yes. Thank you, again.” The woman gave a polite nod before walking off in a different direction.

Katherine gently shook Anne’s shoulder, “Hey, you ready to go in there? Do you want any of us to stay?” Anxious concern riddled the youngest queen’s voice as she tried to snap Anne out of her reverie.

Anne blinked a few times, “Uh, it’s up to you. I just know I need to stay.”

“Well, we know she said only immediate family, so what if you stay the rest of the night and one of us relieves you in the morning so you can shower?” Parr suggested, knowing Anne might want alone time.

“Yeah, that’s- that sounds okay,” Anne consented. After long hugs and goodbyes, Anne found herself alone outside of Catherine’s door. Holding a breath in, she pushed open the door to the dimly illuminated room. Her wife was much too pale, and too many tubes connected in her arms. A bag of blood hung as well as what she could assume was platelets along with the usual fluids and medication. An oxygen tube sat in her nose, and she didn’t look right.

It made a lump rise in Anne’s throat through the numb haze. She slowly made her way to sit in one of the plastic chairs near the bed. The brunette pulled a chair close enough to the bed where she could hold one of Catherine’s hands. The warmth of blood flowing through it reminded her that she hadn't lost her.

Anne didn’t know what compelled her, but she closed her eyes to pray. She wasn’t largely religious in this life, so praying wasn’t exactly a daily habit. Her pleas to God started out desperate. Then, as she ruminated on the matter, she got angrier in her pleas. Why? How? Why had God let this happen to them?

Anne wasn’t one to blame her problems on a metaphysical entity, but she needed someone to blame, and she couldn't blame anyone around her. She could only blame God, or maybe fate, but fate was more conceptual than God so ultimately the blame fell on him.

Of course it’d been too easy. Of course they would have lost their little girl. Something was bound to go wrong. Anne and Catherine had been naive not to think it would, especially considering their past lives.

By the time she finished praying, silent, hot tears streamed down her cheeks. She opened her eyes to wipe them away, the sight of her love’s ghastly state sending a jolt to her heart. She wiped the tears away with one hand and with the hand that held Catherine’s she gave it a squeeze as if she could feel it. “I love you, so, so much,” she whispered.

Anne stayed awake how long, she didn’t know. She watched Catherine like a hawk, her thoughts still flitting in and out of anger, grief, and numbness. She just wanted Catherine to come out of the anesthesia to see that she was at least okay.

Hours later, as the dark night sky began to fade into grey, her wish was granted and Aragon’s eyes slowly opened. At first, the fogged brain and sounds of machines around her contributed to her confusion, then she felt lines in her arms. Then, all at once it came back.

The miscarriage. All the blood, the pain. Physically, in that moment, she didn’t feel any pain. The hospital must have had her on some powerful pain meds. She could feel the soul splitting ache for what she’d lost in chest though. Six. That was her tally now.

Six of her children wouldn’t be in heaven now. Five from before, and her one with Anne. She’d pray relentlessly that God have mercy on her, and let them in. They hadn’t even had a chance, it had been she who’d let them down, she who lost them. It was her fault not theirs.

She searched, desperately in herself for comfort, and found nothing but despair and an overwhelming fog, so she turned her stiff neck, hoping to see Anne. Thankfully, she did, and her wife looked worse for wear. Tear stains decorated her pale cheeks and dark circles ringed her eyes already. However, those tired, grieving eyes widened at Aragon’s consciousness.

“Catherine!” she gasped. “You’re awake!” relief flooded Anne’s voice, and a groggy Aragon flinched at the loud tone.

“Bit loud,” she mumbled out, her voice hoarse from disuse.

“Oh, sorry,” Anne apologized, this time her voice quieter. Along with her apology, she stood stiffly from the uncomfortable plastic chair to land a kiss on Catherine’s forehead.

“We lost her,” Aragon whispered, unable to keep those words from leaving her mouth. “We lost her,” she repeated. Catherine’s emotions overrode her medicinal state as her heart started to speed up. The more she thought about it, the more she worked herself up. Not in an anxiety attack way though, in a way of wanting to sob, but the medicine kept her too under for that. Instead, tears trickled down her face, serving as a small symbol of her grief.

Anne swallowed a newly forming lump in her throat. She only nodded, and moved a hand to gently wipe away Catherine’s tears.  “How? Why?” Catherine asked, her voice shaking.

“They don’t know.” Anne did her best to sound strong, but despite her best efforts, her voice cracked.

They didn’t know. What had Catherine done wrong? She’d done everything she could have possibly done to take care of herself, but she had to have been missing something else, maybe if she’d figured that out, then this wouldn’t have happened. “It’s my fault. It’s my fault. I was carrying her, I was supposed to protect her, and now she’s… she’s gone. I know it has to be my fault,” Catherine said her phrases leaving in rapid succession, accompanied by her breathing speeding up as her agitation increased.

By the end, her breathing had sped up so much so that she was aware of her heart pounding in her ears along with thoughts of what she could have done wrong. Physical pain accompanied the heart though, and it was irregular. It hurt in a different way than panic, at least that’s what she thought. The sensation spread through her chest and around her ribs, and no matter how much air she forced herself to gasp in, it didn’t stop.

Anne’s face had gone from neutral and trying to form words to distressed as she watched Catherine breathe. “Babe?” It didn’t look like any panic attacks Catherine had had in the past. “What’s going on? Try and speak?”

Catherine shook her head. She wanted the pain to stop, and breathing could help. That’s what she told herself. Then, black spots started to cloud her vision and before she could fight it, the deafening sound of her irregular heart and the blackness over took her again.

As Catherine lapsed into unconsciousness again, Anne nearly panicked. The heart monitor’s alarm now went off as some clearly abnormal phenomena caused reason for concern. In a whirl, a team of people were in, and a nurse escorted Anne out. It was all too fast. “No! What’s happening?!” she tried to strain and look back, but the door was already shut.

“Breathe, ma’am,” the nurse beside her said calmly. It was only then, Anne noticed the gut wrenching anxiety and the way her chest fell in hollow breaths. She forced a stinging breath in, the air doing very little for the actual all consuming anxiety.

“Please tell me what happened,” Anne tried again, this time hoping she sounded calmer.

The nurse regarded her for a moment before he spoke, “She lost a lot of blood during surgery, which can cause her heartbeat to beat irregularly when it’s not been fully replenished yet, and something triggered it to get out of hand. When that happens someone can pass out like that or code. They have to slow her heart back down,” he explained.

The explanation did little to placate Anne and her worries. At least Catherine’s heart hadn’t stopped, she that, but it wasn’t enough. Something could still go wrong.

In the time of her silence, a doctor approached the nurse and Anne, “Mrs. Boleyn? The blood panel came back, and we now know what happened that caused Catherine’s miscarriage. Would you like to talk it over now or wait until she’s able to hear it all?”

Anne considered for a moment, curiosity was getting the better of her, but she didn’t know if she could hear why what had happened happened twice. “Can we wait until she’s awake?” Anne asked.

“Of course,” she nodded. “Marty,” the doctor turned to the nurse, “page me when she’s conscious again, please.”

When the crash team left, Anne made her way back in and took her seat back at Catherine’s bedside, taking her hand again. She was sleeping again, and as Anne finally let herself physically feel her body, fatigue sat heavy in her limbs. No matter how much she fought it, her eyes started to droop shut again.

When she awoke again, it was by someone squeezing her hand. She opened one eye, to see Catherine staring blearily at her. “You’re okay!” Anne’s head shot up.

At this declaration, Catherine almost looked disappointed. She didn’t think she deserved to be okay, but she just nodded as Anne continued. “I love you so much, I love you more than you know. And they know what happened, the doctor’s going to come explain it. It’s not your fault,” Anne said eagerly remembering with acute sadness Catherine blaming herself.

“I love you too,” Aragon whispered back. Then the second part of Anne’s statement. There’d been a reason. That still made her wonder what it was and if it was preventable. Even with a known etiology, there was possibility it was her own fault. She did need to hear the explanation though. “When?” She finally added, dread at facing the harsh reality evident in her tone.

“Whenever we let the nurse know you’re awake. Whenever you’re ready love,” Anne nodded. Catherine weighed her options, she could get it over with or avoid it and let her anxieties get the worse of her.

“Can we get it over with soon?” She asked weakly. At this point, she didn’t have the energy to mask her weakness or grief.

“Of course, I’m sure we can,” Anne nodded with a small smile.

Half an hour later or so, the doctor came in, sympathetic smile on her face. Catherine cringed internally, she knew it was well meant, but she already felt enough self pity.

“How’re you feeling? I’m Dr. Hudson,” she introduced.

Catherine shrugged, “Like hell,” she attempted to quip. It fell flat though, and sounded more serious than joking.

“Ah… well let us know if you need anything,” Dr. Hudson said approaching the bed.

“What happened?” Catherine asked quietly. She wanted to rip the bandage off.

“Well. Your blood test shows you have an autoimmune disorder called Antiphospholipid Syndrome. It can manifest as clots in the body, or in pregnancies and ultimately cause miscarriages. What it does it causes clots in the placenta,” she explained.

As the doctor spoke, Catherine retreated more and more into herself. She didn’t know if she felt better or worse knowing she couldn’t have done anything. By the time she finished thinking, her mind was spinning. She didn’t hear Anne asking how Aragon’s regular doctor had missed a clot during their sonogram the day before. She didn’t hear the response that it could have flared quickly and at an unknown trigger and formed quickly.

She didn’t hear. All she knew was that there was nothing she could do about it. It was her fault, even if Anne told her it wasn’t. Her body had attacked itself and killed her baby. How was that not her fault? Now because of that, she and Anne wouldn’t have a family in six months, and her tally had gone from five to six.

(tag: @bottom-of-the-bin )

[ongoingaccident-deleted]

hi i want to hear about your characters!!! Anything about anyone whatever you want to tell!!! :)

ahhhhhhh (´•̥̥̥-•̥̥̥`)  arsy have i ever said how much i love you because it’s a Lot

i’m very sorry this has taken me so long it’s been a busy few days orz

got carried away so here’s the obligatory cut

okay so the first thing that comes to mind (cause it’s part of something i’m working on rn wink wink) is Evelyne and her brothers + sister would send each other coded letters (maybe coded is the wrong word, but they were at least to some degree not spelling out everything that happened) with information that the others could use to get a leg up in their job. they’d also help get rid of people (non-lethally! …at least mostly) who were threatening the others or obstructing the Empire in any way. it very quickly became well-known that you did not fuck with the Antonius family unless you wanted to probably end up in jail or socially ruined.

this is part of the reason that she fakes her own death when she leaves the Irregulars, cause she knows that if her siblings find out, they might understand her motives but definitely wouldn’t let her join up with the dominion and would also try to keep tabs on her which she doesn’t want at that point in time. they eventually reunite and have fun wholesome family time together again! :D so yeah they’re basically the fantasy mob. i actually like to think that imperial society is pretty cutthroat wrt people trying to vie for power, and they just have the advantage of having all five of them on a team.

aeliana (the oldest and i guess technically the matriarch of the family after their parents die) is actually one of the best of them at playing imperial politics, in large part because she seems very unassuming and a lot of people are willing to open up to her. she inevitably will betray their trust in the worst way, but most of the time she’s not the one taking advantage of the information so a lot of people don’t put two and two together. (and the ones that do are already ruined, so.) since i started writing this i decided i love her and made her in the pts. so. here’s she.

:D (relatedly, the pts letting me use every single dye and outfit style in the game is ahhhhh and also the red from scalebreaker is just… i love, going to learn vet dungeons just to get it)

two of her brothers (Augustine and Gaius) are in the military, and the third one (Junius) is a priest of the eight. between the five of them, they have a pretty good idea of what’s going on all over the empire (what’s left of it anyway) and are just. Power Siblings. the more i write about them the more excited i get!!! i like them and they’re starting to develop as characters and it makes me happy :D

okay and now for something completely different

aralyn is my altmer oblivion db assassin! she’s baby, and by that i mean she’s just as likely to stab you as she is to say hello. more likely, probably. i’ve touched on the her past but i’m gonna elaborate on it some more :) SO aralyn is the youngest of two daughters to a pair of worm cult parents. her older sister’s name is Elanoviel, and they’re very close for a long time. their parents never do anything to them specifically, but they’re both definitely some degree of afraid of them. and neither one of them has any idea how to like… interact with other people because they’ve only ever been around their parents who kill people and then perform experiments with

and then Ela disappears, and Ara has a really hard time with it because she’s now alone and her parents think she has some knowledge of what happened to Ela, but she doesn’t :( she stops speaking entirely, which frustrates them to no end and only furthers their belief that she’s hiding something. this goes on for a while, and she’s just kind of… breaking. eventually this leads to her stealing one of her parents’ knives when they’re distracted with a, uh, patient and killing both of them because she can’t stand the thought of being trapped alone with them any longer. she actually does break down after that and weeps until she falls asleep because she’s just… overcome with emotion.

lucien is the first person who isn’t either her family or a corpse that she ever meets, and she greets him by attempting to bite him and then, when that fails, claw his eyes out. she is both a. untrained and b. not particularly strong, so he has no issues pinning her until she calms down. she respects him for that b/c she respects strength even if she doesn’t quite like and/or trust him. he realizes that she might not be a good killer yet, but she is good at hiding and probably could be a good assassin with the right training.

so he sends her to kill rufioh and decides to train her some if she can manage the kill without being arrested because this is my canon and i am in charge of how it goes. she manages and he brings her back to the sanctuary, where she finds (gasp!) her sister, who a. knew how to read and b. found one of their parents books that mentioned something about the dark brotherhood coming for you if you killed an innocent. so she ran away, killed the first person she saw, and used the brotherhood to escape. ara is definitely bitter for a while, but they eventually become friends again. meanwhile, she’s become very fond of lucien, who she spends a decent amount of time with as he teaches her to be like… a person, which she’s never had the chance to do. so it’s kind of wholesome in between the indiscriminate murder. :)

asdghfj i got a little lot carried away but i hope you enjoyed and thank you for the ask and

[withshimmeringeyes]

❝❞

Send in a ❝❞ and my muse will tell you one of the following after a random number generation.

❆ ——— ”Take responsibility.”

[ongoingaccident-deleted]

🖊️ gimme dat oc talk, fam

-for… for all of them??? y’know what i’m just gonna write down fun facts about whatever characters come to mind, i hope that’s okay!

also many many apologies for taking so long! speaking of long, this is, so i’m sticking it under the cut

Aellai:

-She actually has really long hair for most of her story, and it only gets short when Naryu lops most of it off to prevent Veya from holding her in place while trying to take off her head

-If she’s in a very good mood and around Emeric you might catch her making sarcastic remarks instead of just being serious all the time (gasp!!!)

-She and Ashur get along surprisingly well and were mutually pleased to see one another in Hakoshae

-Occasionally she’ll say things completely seriously but that are jokes and you have to know her really well to understand the difference

-”The light inside is broken but I still work”

-Smiling is for losers

-Should be smarter than to make deals with hostile daedra but too desperate to give a shit

Raewyn:

-Has really long hair… like really long… that braid she wraps around her head is like… down to her butt (same lmao)

-10/10 would use an army of daedra to clean her house

-Why do anything magic can do for you (that’s largely an exaggeration but she is very good at using magic to do things she doesn’t want to to)

-Usually very practical and dresses very plainly but likes having opportunities to dress up and do her hair and wear dresses and w/e

-DoneTM

Larandel:

-Dres (surprise!) and would gut the rest of her family with a fork if she ever got the chance

-Actual blood mage (I like the idea that nightblade powers are based on blood magic anyway)

-Will not deal with anyone wanting to/who does keep slaves and will in fact free those slaves and probably gut you

-For someone whose job very often involves reading people to get close to her target she is very bad at reading Naryu and doesn’t realize she’s flirting with her until she actually just says ‘fuck it’ and kisses her

Tamera:

-Disrespecting Meridia is literally the only thing that makes her angry at all, she will never get upset with you insulting anyone else including herself

-Should probably be more concerned with the occasionally militant voice in her head than she actually is

-Grows up with no talent for magic, but very strong and very good with a maul, develops a talent for healing after Meridia starts possessing her every once in a while

Lyra:

-Way too enthusiastic about fighting creatures that are way older and more powerful than she is but somehow always wins

-Were her teeth always that sharp? who knows

-For some reason, thinks “Maybe you should stop sheathing your greatsword up your ass” is a good pickup line… for some even stranger reason, it worked (???)

-Burns everything she tries to cook

-Sometime after absorbing the souls of like 50+ dragons her use of the voice got obscenely powerful and that was the only reason she was a match for alduin (that and sheer stubbornness)

-Has replaced her parents with Paarthurnax and spends a lot of time on the throat of the world

Mizuki:

-Most people are convinced that she’s actually mute, this includes about half of the guild

-Her two best friends are Brynjolf and Zanthe, and she spends a lot of time at the latter’s shop

-Altaire makes her super uncomfortable, but Altaire also doesn’t realize she’s there for like the first month that she’s in the guild

-She never buys food, she either swipes something (much more out of habit now than necessity) or when she’s on the road she hunts and eats whatever she kills raw

-Borderline feral but good at pretending not to be

Alvena:

-Prefers to just stare at people until they become uncomfortable instead of, idk, talking to them

-Still feels guilty about revering Talos because of growing up in the Dominion even though she knows she shouldn’t

-Knows the absolute most random bullshit about religions and is kind of a walking encyclopedia on the topic

-Beanpole

-Could electrocute you on the spot by just kind of thinking about it

Altaire:

-Copes with her really bad childhood by flirting with anything that has a pulse

-Her sister may or may not have tried to drown her several times as a child

-Sometimes people don’t realize that she’s blind, which she finds endlessly amusing

-Mercer has threatened to murder her repeatedly, which just means she goes even farther out of her way to annoy him. the rest of the guild tries to keep them apart forcibly

Zanthe:

-Her eventual shop /cough laundering scheme cough/ is called “The Fox’s Finds”, no she’s not subtle

-Her natural hair color is light brown, but it’s dyed red for most of the time she’s a Grey Fox

-Continually makes allusions to being a Grey Fox to Mercer but never tells him definitively because she loves fucking with him and knows he generally disapproves of her but she’s too valuable for him to get rid of

-Made her slingshot herself and does wood carvings as a hobby

Aralyn:

-Has an older sister who ran away from their pretty evil parents and she kind of resents for not taking her with her

-Almost too nervous to function

-Lucien found her sleeping next to her parents’ corpses covered in blood so that’s fun i guess

-I have a lot of characters who are really quiet and she’s one of them

-Feral and not good at hiding it

-Absolutely should not be released into civilized society

Jaede:

-???

-??????

-More seriously she puts in two new dukes of mania/dementia and then has the one from dementia replaced cause she doesn’t like him

-Way too fond of breaking skulls with a giant warhammer than she should be

-A walking collection of all of the different items collected during the shivering isles (most notably: charity of madness, regalia, nerveshatter, diadem of euphoria)

Asenath:

-Small and ANGRY

-Will fight you and will almost certainly win

-Has been having weird dreams about people she’s never met since she was young but always shrugged it off as, you know, normal dreams

-Hint: they were not normal dreams

-Initially opposed to having a ghost sharing her head but she came around and they’re best friends now

-Will just start making snarky comments to her ghost friend which is really awkward when other people can’t see him

i’m sorry again that this took so long and was so long but i hope you enjoyed and thank you for the ask! i had a lot of fun with this!!! :D

[withshimmeringeyes]

ϟ

Send me a ϟ and I will generate a number 1-35 to see what my muse will say to yours. Mix of angst, fluff, flirty, funny, etc.

❆ ------ "Kill me."