#pardon the dust this container used to have paint in it

[cicidraws]

what was inside of those two shipping boxes was in fact hersheys syrup and i was laughing for a bit about it

[kurishiri]

04 . . . main story

— the first three chapters are translated already by @.celiciaa; you can view them here.

— this translation may not be 100% accurate or may contain creative liberties. if you enjoy, please consider reblogging, but don’t repost or claim these as your own!

— cw: mentioned character death.

Alfons: Though using my ability to temporarily deceive an innocent young girl does have its charm...

A: Perhaps you may find some blue poppies in Elbie’s room?

Kate: Eh?

Alfons: Though I may be mistaken, I seem to recall there being a pressed flower in a frame before.

A: It may do you well to search around that junk of a room tomorrow sometime?

At Alfons’ suggestion, Lord Elbert raised a hand to his chin as if deep in thought.

Elbert: ...If Al says so, there may be one in my room.

Kate: Really...!?

Elbert: Shall we look for it there?

Kate: Yes, please...!

(If we can give her an actual blue poppy, I’m sure Daisy will be delighted.)

If there was a chance it could be found, there was no reason not to try.

Alfons: To think the day would come when you pay attention to the things you toss and leave into your room... I truly don’t understand you, Lord Elbert.

(Lord Elbert’s room...)

—— Flashback ——

Alfons: Things that don’t suit Elbert’s taste end up being left there to collect dust, making something of a mess in his room.

A: So I end up selling them on my own accord.

Kate: I-is it really okay to do it on your own accord?

Elbert: ...I don’t mind.

E: Because, I don’t have any interest in something that... is not beautiful.

—— End flashback ——

(So it’s a room full of things that are ‘not beautiful’?)

(...Just what kind of room is that?)

Alfons: Hehe, by all means, please search around very thoroughly together.

Elbert: You’re not helping, Al?

Alfons: Why, of course not! You knew from the start, no?

A: That I detest doing physical labor like that.

The next day.

Elbert: Here... come in.

Kate: Yes, pardon... me...

Upon stepping foot into Lord Elbert’s room, my mind went blank for a while.

(So the ‘having no interest’ part was true...)

Pretty butterfly specimens, beautiful stuffed birds, oil paintings and ceramics, jewelries...

There were luxury goods that seemed dazzling to me as well; it wouldn’t be strange if they were displayed in art museums.

It was a strange scene indeed, seeing the clutter.

(There are so many things in his room... but, it seems a little lonely.)

In this room cluttered with things left around and about, a sense of emptiness hung in the air.

Elbert: Well then... shall we search?

Kate: Do you have some idea where it could be, possibly?

Elbert: ...Actually.

Kate: Actually...?

Elbert: I have never searched around this room before, so... I don’t know where anything is here.

Kate: This is your own room though...?

Elbert: It seems searching for it... will take quite a bit of time.

(...Even putting that aside, I have a lot of questions.)

(But right now, we should focus on finding the blue poppy.)

Kate: It’s alright. I’m sure if we work together to find it, we’ll find it much faster than if one of us were doing the job.

Elbert: ... [surprised]

Kate: Let’s do our best!

Elbert: Yes... let’s.

The things around the room were placed such that it was hard for people to move around, so I stayed cautious so as to not bump into anything as I began searching.

Kate: Ah, could this be it?

When I peeked through the gap of the hood which covered a picture frame on the floor, I saw something vibrant blue.

Elbert: What... was that again...?

Kate: I’ll look inside.

When I lifted the slightly heavy frame and removed the hood, beneath it was a beautiful oil painting.

Kate: It’s not a poppy or a pressed flower... but it’s a very pretty scenic painting.

Elbert: If I remember... it was from some exhibition. Everyone was praising it, so I wanted it.

E: They said they weren’t selling it, but I ended up getting it, with some coaxing.

Kate: It seems if they were going to give you an item that wasn’t for sale, they would ask for a hefty price in return...

Elbert: It was around the price of one townhouse, I think.

Kate: Huh!?

At that moment, my hands went stiff, causing the item in my hands to almost fall, so I supported them in a panic.

Elbert: ...Are you alright?

Kate: Sorry about that! I didn’t drop this, so I think it’s alright.

Elbert: Not what you’re holding... I’m talking about you.

(Eh...)

Lord Elbert took the painting from my hands, and set it down somewhere around him with little care for it.

Elbert: Are you hurt...?

Kate: ...No, I’m, I’m fine.

(I’m happy that he’s worried about me...)

But I couldn’t help but look at that oil painting, which was put on the floor.

(He went through so much and paid a high price to obtain this painting, but he already has no interest in it.)

(Because it ‘wasn’t beautiful’...)

Kate: Lord Elbert, is there anything in this room you hold dear...?

Elbert: ...Something I hold dear?

Kate: It’s just, I was thinking if there was anything you don’t want me to touch here, I would like to know.

Elbert: Well...

Elbert’s eyes wandered around the room in a daze.

When his deep, ocean blue eyes turned to me at last, Lord Elbert’s lips formed a smile.

Elbert: I... don’t really have such things, I think.

(None...)

I feel like I understand why I felt that sense of emptiness.

(This is a room where there is nothing its own master holds dear.)

It was Lord Elbert’s room, but there was nothing here for him.

(Then, these beautiful things overflowing in this room—)

(Who are they for... and what purpose do they serve?)

Elbert: Kate?

Kate: ! ...Sorry, I spaced out a little.

Elbert: ...I don’t mind if anything gets broken, but please take care not to get hurt.

With those words, Lord Elbert started to search another area of the room.

(Right now, I just need to focus on finding the blue poppy!)

Redirecting my focus, I placed both hands on my knees and crawled through a crevice.

(...!?)

All of a sudden, my eyes met with hollow black ones, causing my heart to skip a beat.

(Ah, it’s a stuffed bird. It’s pretty, but also a little scary.)

There was not a single moving thing in Lord Elbert’s room.

The needle on a watch didn’t move, maintaining a beautiful form, and all living things were either stuffed or made into specimens.

(Come to think of it... where did the cat that he picked up while we were shopping together go...?)

Because I was leaning back while thinking about this—

Kate: Waaah...!?

Elbert: Hm...?

My butt ended up bumping into Lord Elbert, who had also been crouching down right next to me.

Kate: S-sorry... ow—!

The moment I pulled away from him, this time my elbow bumped into the shelf.

(Aahh... just how foolish can I get...)

Elbert: ...Are you alright?

Kate: Yes, I’m alright. Sorry about that, I’ve been doing nothing but causing worry for you.

Elbert: The room is a mess, so don’t worry about... it...?

At that moment, something came falling from the top of the shelf and landed on top of Lord Elbert’s head.

Elbert: What was that just now?

Kate: I wonder what...

When we looked down at our feet, there was a white bunny stuffed animal.

(It’s cute...)

Kate: I didn’t know you had something so cute here.

Elbert: Ah... I believe I bought it because the store owner said it was the most beautiful.

(This stuffed animal’s ribbon is tied in a granny knot.)

In a room so full of beautiful things, my eyes felt strangely drawn to the way the ribbon was tied a bit crookedly.

Kate: I should put it back. Where did it drop from...

I stood up, looking toward the general direction from which the stuffed animal fell. Just then—

(Ah!!)

Kate: Lord Elbert, could that be...!?

As if hiding in a work of art on top of the shelf, inside the frame on the wall was a blue petal of a poppy, pressed in a beautiful shape, having fully blossomed.

Elbert: ...There really is a blue poppy here...

E: Al might know my own room better than myself...

Kate: It is the real thing, right...?

Shoulder to shoulder, we stared at the flower in the frame before turning to each other at around the same time.

Kate: Can we bring this to Daisy?

Elbert: Of course... we still have time after this, so let’s go together.

Kate: Alright...!

(I wonder if Daisy will be happy.)

(Even when we’re not visiting her, she can look at this...)

(and, even if it’s just a little bit, I hope there will be more times she can smile.)

When I thought of Daisy’s smile, still holding its innocence, my chest blooms with anticipation.

Elbert: ...That’s the first time I’ve seen you smiling so happily.

Kate: Eh...?

When I lifted my head in response to his sudden words, I saw his deep ocean-like eyes fixed on me.

(Lord Elbert...?)

Elbert: ...Show me more of it.

With fingers as pretty as that of a sculpture’s, he gently touched my cheeks.

Kate: ...Hn.

He has a good looking face, so when he approached me, my breath caught in my throat.

There was a dark, hazy look in his gaze — similar to the one he had the night we first met Daisy and what I felt in the garden, and it unsettled me.

Elbert: ...

(What... should I do?)

(I... can’t look away.)

At that moment, a soft knock could be heard.

Kate: Y-yes!?

I blurted out without thinking.

Following a brief pause, Alfons poked his head through the door.

Alfons: ...Oh my, I do apologize. Have I interrupted something?

A: Please feel free to think of me as a slightly big door stopper and continue what you were doing, by all means.

Kate: I-it’s not what you think! I’ll get ready to go out.

As if running from Lord Elbert’s gaze, I left the room.

Elbert: ...

Alfons: You don’t have to glare at me like that. I assure you it was not on purpose.

(What was that just now?)

(Saying things like ‘show me your smiling face more’...)

It was almost like Lord Elbert was trying to make advances on me, but it didn’t look like that was his intention.

(It was more like he was trying to confirm something...)

When I remembered the way he looked at me, I felt that unsettling feeling in my chest once more, and I shook my head.

Kate: Right now, I have to hurry so we can go and give this to Daisy.

Setting aside that unsettling feeling, I ran down the hallway to my own room.

And then when the sun passed its highest point, Lord Elbert and I walked down the hallway of the infirmary.

Elbert: I wonder if she’s up. ...Lately, her condition hasn’t been looking good.

Kate: True... if she’s sleeping, we can wait a little bit.

While we conversed in low voices, I walked toward the room, feeling very excited, but—

Daisy’s voice: Hu... hic...

(Hm? That’s Daisy’s voice...)

(Is she crying?)

Elbert: ...

Perhaps she was speaking with someone, but Daisy’s tear-strained voice could be heard from the other side of the door.

(I know I shouldn’t eavesdrop.)

My reflexes tell me so, yet I end up pushing my ear against the door to listen.

Daisy’s voice: I... ended up doing something bad. I said... I wanted something... that is impossible to get.

D: Because... those people, were so kind...

D: They want me to keep living...

D: And it’s painful.

Kate: ...

My chest ached as though my heart were being squeezed.

Daisy’s voice: That’s why, I wanted to make them suffer, a little bit.

D: After all, you can’t forget the sad things. That’s why, if they don’t find the blue poppies...

D: Those two will... remember me forever, right...?

The shock hit me like being punched in the face.

We had wanted to cheer her up. That’s why we continued visiting her.

(By staying with her, maybe a little bit of that sadness and loneliness would lighten up.)

(But Daisy might have been struggling this entire time.)

Yet, we never realized that we had been hurting her.

Elbert: ...

Beside me, Elbert stared quietly at the door, not uttering a word.

(If we see her now, will Daisy end up suffering?)

(But... if we just stop visiting her without saying anything, that would surely make her more sad.)

(...Then, what about the blue poppy?)

We went through a lot to find it, but if we give this to her, she might end up feeling more sad.

Kate: ...I’m sorry, Lord Elbert.

K: Let’s... pretend we didn’t find it.

Elbert: ...Alright.

E: ...I agree.

When Daisy’s crying had calmed—

The one who had been listening to Daisy, who appeared to be one of the nurses, left, and we waited a while after that before we visited her.

We hid the frame with the blue poppy outside.

Kate: We’re so sorry! We couldn’t find the blue poppy.

Daisy: ...Aah, what a disappointment.

So that our lie wouldn’t be exposed, I apologized in an exaggerated manner, and as if to hide her red eyes, she scrunched up her face.

Kate: We promise we’ll find it tomorrow, for sure.

Daisy: Hehe. Are you sure you’ll be able to, before I die?

Seeing Daisy smile, I returned her gesture.

Elbert: ...

Lord Elbert simply stayed silent, looking after us.

The next day, we learned that there had been a sudden change in Daisy’s condition, and that she had drew her final breath.

The evening rays that signaled the end of today dyed the castle’s hallways red.

Feeling like there was a hole in my chest, I looked outside the window.

That was when I heard the sound of a single, relaxed footstep.

Elbert: There you are...

Kate: ...Lord Elbert.

Elbert: ...

As if sharing each other’s pain, a gentle silence fell.

That was how I knew Lord Elbert, too, had heard the news of Daisy’s passing.

Elbert: ...Kate.

E: Could you... lend me some of your time tonight?

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[circusgoth-dotcom]

Rough Beginnings

Ship: Bill Fang x Sweeney Todd

Word Count: 1254

Summary: The day Bill and Sweeney met each other. A remastered fic, no clue where the original is on my old blog but either way this rewrite is probably leagues better. Ask to add CWs, I don't think anything is too bad in this fic but let me know. (Genuine)

Tag List: @canongf @futurewife @rexscanonwife @dudefrommywesterns

It was an early, grey, and foggy morning when Sweeney returned to his home city of London. It was just as he left it; disgusting and derelict, yet certainly far more lonely without the company of his dear wife Lucy and daughter Johanna. How he longed to return to them and make everything right once more. It was that longing that drove him forth down Fleet Street once he had left the piers, and his young saviour, behind. He stopped and stared outside of the building he once called home.

The top floor contained what used to be his apartment and the space in which he did business as a barber, well-liked by his regular customers. Below lived his neighbour and her pie shop. Dust and grime were caked onto the windows, even though there appeared to be some sort of effort to clean, and the building generally looked unpopular compared to other businesses on the street. He would’ve ignored this and pressed on if it weren’t for the fact an unfamiliar face was sitting on a bench outside of the pie shop, adding paint to a wind-weathered sign.

Cautiously, Sweeney approached. “Pardon me, sir, but you wouldn’t happen to know who owns this building, do you?”

The man looked up, showing a young but tired face, marked with porous scars. “Ah, yes sir, that would be my boss, Mrs. Lovett.” He frowned. “You’re not thinking of buying us out, are you?”

“What…? Oh, no, no,” he waved his hand dismissively, “that is far from the reason I’m here, don’t you worry about anything of that sort. Has anyone else resided here in your time?”

The man thought for a moment. “No, sir, just myself and Nellie… who are you?”

Sweeney cleared his throat. “I’m… no one, no one you need to worry about, anyhow. You?”

The man adjusted his newsboy cap. “Bill Fang. I’m Mrs. Lovett’s assistant.” He returned his attention to painting the sign. “Well, Mr. No-One, it would at least be appreciated if you stepped inside for a pie. We’re barely staying afloat. Nobody wants to come in because we use such cheap ingredients, but we can’t afford anything better because nobody’s coming in. That and people keep saying the shop upstairs is haunted. Tch, sir, I’ll tell you, I’ve slept up there myself and there isn’t a thing wrong with it, not a thing!”

“Have you, now?” Sweeney barred the defensive feelings rising in his chest. This stranger before him had slept in his own bed and neither Lucy nor Johanna seemed to be remembered, let alone still around. “I suppose that makes you a brave man. Lucky for both you and your employer, I haven’t had a proper meal yet.”

He nodded at the man and let himself in, the tingling of the bell overhead immediately giving away his presence. Once the door closed behind him, Bill set aside the sign on his lap and hopped up from the bench, peering through the dirty windows to catch a glimpse of how the stranger interacted with his boss. He watched him half-heartedly try one of the pies, shortly being instructed to spit it out. He watched as a lengthy, animated conversation took place. He watched as a thunderous rage came upon the stranger and he slammed his fist onto the counter, prompting Bill to rush inside.

“What’s going on??” He asked quickly, recklessly wanting to defend his employer with nothing on him but his bare hands.

“Don’t fret, William, it’s just…” Mrs. Lovett began before the both of them looked over at Sweeney as he released a great gasping sob, torn between being completely livid and utterly despaired. “Mr. Todd’s been dealt a great hand of bad luck. Wait here.”

Bewildered, Bill remained where he stood as Sweeney shakily sat at one of the dusty tables, burying his head in his hands. He looked far more miserable than when he had walked in. Before Bill could say anything more, Mrs. Lovett had returned with a handsome black case.

“Look, it doesn’t have to be the sewers or the plague hospital-- you can be a barber again!” She insisted, opening the case and setting it in front of the distraught man. The inner lining was rich, red velvet, cushioning a set of silver razors with intricate, chased handles, looking almost completely untouched. Even Bill had to gasp a little at the reveal.

“You had these all this time??” He asked, a bit outraged. “These would sell for good money, why would you…?”

“I’ll tell you later,” Mrs. Lovett insisted through clenched teeth, lightly swatting at him with a rag before waiting for Sweeney’s reaction as he examined the beautiful tools set out for him.

“My friends…” He muttered softly, holding one of the razors up to the light of the gas lamp on the table. He swallowed as he contemplated the familiarity of the tool in his hand, the sharpness of its blade. Where one door closes, another must open. He stood and set the razor back with the others, turning to Mrs. Lovett and Bill. “Yes. I’ll resume my work upstairs, however, this means I will need my room back.”

“William can bunk with me, I’m sure.” Mrs. Lovett flashed him a particular look- no arguments -before fishing a set of keys from her apron pocket and handing them to Sweeney. “Well, go on. We keep it locked up during the day to discourage vagrants.”

Without hesitation, Sweeney left the pieshop to get a proper look at the current state of his parlour and apartment, leaving Bill to stare at his employer.

“Nellie, do you know that man???” He asked, exasperated.

“Yes! Sit down, I’ll pour you some ale and tell you the whole story…”

When she finished, Bill was suddenly struck with the same nauseating outrage he knew Sweeney was feeling at that very moment.

“How do you suppose he’ll get his revenge?” He asked lowly. Mrs. Lovett regarded him silently for a moment.

“I suppose we’ll just have to see.”

It did not possibly cross Bill’s mind that Sweeney was prepared to kill due to the injustice thrust upon him as he tread upstairs. Sweeney startled as his own greeting bell rang, only to be relieved when it was just Bill.

“Something I can help you with?”

“Well, I thought you might appreciate it if I removed my belongings from your apartment.”

“Right…” Sweeney nodded, turning back toward the single window, slotted in the roof and showing a view of the terribly drab sky. Bill walked across the room and slipped into the tiny apartment, which consisted of nothing more than a bed, a dresser, and a kitchen. He pulled what little belongings he had out of the dresser, folded them neatly in his arms, and exited back into the parlour.

“Do you think it’s going to rain?”

Sweeney looked over his shoulder at him. “It tends to, in this city, if my memory serves me correctly. You know, you don’t need to make small talk with me, Fang.” He paused. “Though I do have to ask why Mrs. Lovett calls you…?”

“William? Yes, well, I made the mistake of giving her my full name and now she won’t drop it.” Bill shrugged. “As for the small talk, I’m only trying to be friendly. And just because I’m Mrs. Lovett’s assistant, don’t think I’m off limits. If you need help with anything once you get settled, just find me, alright?”

“Right.”

“Good day, Mr. Todd.”

“Good day, Fang.”

[athys-obelia]

character/s: claude de alger obelia, diana of siodonna, felix robane

synopsis: it's...uhm....an empress!diana x concubine!claude crackfic 😭😭

warning/s: uhh a sprinkle of politics, the robane duchy is now siodonnan and not obelian screw canon, diana is lowkey mean to rogrog

a/n: i'm so sorry this is so bad

part one

felix's foot taps against the tiles of the empress' room impatiently. "you stayed up finalising the agreement all night, your majesty, perhaps some rest is due?"

diana spares him glance, turning sideways from her position on her bed. "what was his name again?"

  "pardon?"

  "the painter," she elaborates, pointing towards the painting on the ceiling above the bed. "i keep...i don't know, i keep finding new things the more i look at it."

  "is that so?"

the painting itself, a coronation gift from felix, depicts the goddess diana reaching out to the children of the world and vice versa. "if you look at the sky closely - remember our old siodonann classes?- 'for the people' is hidden in the stars. isn't that cool?"

the knight squints at the painting. "oh, i see it! i wonder why it's in old siodonann, though?"

  "i would guess it's because the imperial family wasn't worshipped in the old days," diana explains, "for example - right now, in some parts of the empire, my late father - bless him - and i may actually have shrines because people believe the imperial family's descent is from the gods. when the kingdom was just formed, though, kings and queens weren't allowed to ride alone in carriages as they greeted their subjects- they needed to have a slave with them at all times, who kept on repeating 'you are human' to them. 'you are human', 'we are all the same in the eyes of the true gods."

the sound of the army of maids behind the door is enough to pull felix out of his trance. "er...horatius calvus, your majesty."

  "hm?"

  "the artist, that's his name."

  "ah." diana turns to the painting once more, eyes staring at the goddess' hair that melted into the night sky. "would you be able to get in contact with him? i'd like to commission a piece."

felix bows gracefully. "as your majesty commands. oh, and - for the obelian delegates' farewell celebration tonight...has your majesty decided on an escort?"

she groans, falling back on the bed. "i've had so much free time lately, the harem is all i think about!"

  "very funny, ma'am. then...shall i prepare the usual?"

diana shakes her head. "i'll visit viscaria palace later and see for myself. the obelians brought some concubines with them as presents, it's be nice to weed through the bunch."

felix's eyes nearly pop out. "you're visiting the harem?! your majesty! did you find someone you like??"

she chucks a pillow at him before he can continue. "you weren't loud enough just now, fe, i don't think all of siodonna heard you."

  "...apologies, ma'am."

three years ago, when she had only just come into power, diana remembers being afraid of the large, gold doors between her and the council room. she remembers pausing before entering, regaining her breath, preparing her mind. projecting an image.

if there is one thing she has learnt, though, it's that only fools can be afraid of their own property. their assets. the larger-than-life doors swing at her command, allow or deny entrance with solely her permission. confidence comes easy when you act like you own the place - nevermind the fact that she did own most places.

but i have no reason to be afraid.

the obelian delegates stand at her arrival and bow like good little lords should before an empress. one of the more prominent ones stands to address her as soon as the meeting commences.

  "blessings and glory upon the sun of the great siodonnan empire," he says.

diana raises an amused eyebrow. this game, hm? "is that an obelian greeting, duke? how interesting. here, one would usually wish 'a long life to the protector of the siodonnan people'. that's all i am, after all - how could i be the sun?"

duke alpheus sputters. "er...i failed to acquaint myself with siodonnan culture appropriately, my apologies, your majesty. i shall do better next time."

how arrogant. still, she smiles, "i must confess, duke alpheus - i am slightly susceptible to praise, so i'll let you off this time."

  "thank you, ma'am."

  "although making the assumption that there will be a next time at all was quite courageous of you." diana signals the guards, who open the door to let the final participant of the meeting inside. "however -courage and bravery are traits best suited for kings and queens, duke. not lords."

the obelian delegates pale as they watch their - former - emperor, wrists bound, enter the hall with an entourage of knights.

diana glances at the newcomer. "although i suppose even for an emperor, too much of a bravado may cost a war."

anastacius de alger obelia glowers at her.

she frowns at the knights. "how come such a precious friend of mine is tied up like this? is this how we siodonnans treat our guests?"

felix bows deeply. "i apologise, ma'am - he was resisting far too much."

  "whatever the case. get a seat set up right here, beside me - after all," diana smiles at the fuming obelian, "we were dining together just a few months ago, weren't we?"

  "three months ago, to be precise," anastacius spits out, "after which you decided to switch tides and invade us like a coward."

she watches one of the knights set down a fancy chair to the left of hers, reaching out to untie the bindings on anastacius' wrist. diana frowns suddenly, waving over felix, "ah, is this the leash my brother used when he tamed his dragon?"

the former emperor flinches, staring down at it. "someone here tamed a dragon?" a light pink dusts his cheeks - did he really touch the actual leash of a dragon?

felix shakes his head with a small smirk. "this is the leash her majesty the late dowager empress used, ma'am. for her dog."

  "-ah, right, i remember now! all the ones marked with this little purple line are used for tying down senseless animals, aren't they?"

  "yes, your majesty." felix returns to his spot behind her, clear amusement swimming in his grey eyes as he watches the obelians try and maintain their composure.

diana gently lets the leash loose, a hand on the stunned anastacius' shoulder to lightly push him into the seat. "you aren't wrong - i did betray your hospitality, didn't i?"

roger alpheus winces at the sudden authority in her tone as the knights pass out a document to each of the obelian lords.

  "obelia's greeting and offer for peace was kind to me, so i must return this generosity. your country is now part of the siodonnan empire, so we should be parting on a good note. will a little present suffice?"

a brunette diana remembers to be a count speaks up, "...a gift, your majesty?"

felix moves closer to the table, watching the detailed map of siodonna carved into its centre. as he raises his hand, almost as if it were a chess piece, a small island moves to the left. its color flickers between a siodonnan purple and the obelian teal.

diana sighs. "i was planning on the island of delphine, since it not only contains a relatively large gold mine, but also much tourist attraction."

oh, she can see the stars in alpheus' eyes already. "thank you, your ma-"

  "but." he shrivels under her piercing gaze, "but, obelia doesn't need gold, does it? what you need is better foreign relations. and what better way to form an alliance..."

she eyes the map, and with a flick of felix's wrist, a small stretch of land connecting two continents switches from its original purple to a hue of blue.

diana looks up now, meeting even anastacius' shocked eyes. he eyes her suspiciously, "do you really-?"

she nods. "...consider it a gift from your sovereign. it is enough, yes?"

  "i- uh," duke alpheus blinks twice, "the isthmus of erven is...an adequate present, yes, your majesty. the people of obelia shall thrive due to your generosity."

  "it is not generosity, duke. your people are my subjects now. however, i hope you realise the isthmus isn't obelian property for obvious reasons. there is no trust between us. despite this, what i will allow is some access." diana stands, watching the foreign nobles mirror the action. "the terms and conditions of our relationship from this point onwards are in the papers before you and are, obviously, subject to change. feel free to approach me with concerns, should you have any."

  "you were firmer than i'd expected with the obelians, your majesty," felix comments.

diana recoils as his eyes light up at the sight of viscaria palace. "remember when i visited obelia for anastacius' coronation? i was only seventeen, but two years into my studies as heir - and they were all over duke renauld's son! poor cousin ronnie couldn't stop apologising."

felix snorts. "the renaulds wouldn't have dared challenge your majesty's claim, not while the late empress dowager was behind you."

  "ha! that's right, everyone was scared of mama." she grins fondly, "papa most of all."

the knight nods, murmuring a prayer.

  "i want them gone as soon as possible," diana admits, "but there's much to settle before that. i need to fix up anastacius before we can let him back, the second prince is still...what was his name, again?"

  "claude de alger obelia, ma'am."

she winces. "yes, he's an impo-"

a commotion sounds from within viscaria. felix raises an eyebrow at the shouts echoing from the beautiful building, a hand already atop his sheathed sword. "ma'am, stay back, i'll have a look- your majesty! where are you going-?!"

navigating through the decorated halls, diana halts before the entrance of the garden. the argument is between two men she doesn't recognise, as the older concubines gather to the side, amusing twinkling in their eyes.

  "attention!" felix roars, "her imperial majesty, empress diana celeste!"

the two freeze in fear.

  "disrupting my peace. how dare you?" diana demands.

one of them, dressed too finely for someone she hadn't even seen yet, steps forward. "your majesty, my name is xerre, i was only-"

she raises a hand, effectively shutting him up. tone softening, diana turns to the group crowding around the desert table. "lex?"

the group shuffles to let a young, silver haired young man forward. lex bows gracefully, laugh lines around his eyes crinkling. "yes, my lady?"

  "do you know what happened here?"

lex nods. "the monthly salary was being distributed, your majesty, and xerre - being a present from the kingdom of masur - had some trouble believing his amount was the same as a former obelian slave's. verhan stepped in to argue that your majesty was the one to decide this, and they began fighting."

  "shall i prepare for his voyage back to masur, majesty?" felix asks, as the rest of the concubines roll their eyes at his antics.

diana studies the masurian concubine, beckoning him closer. "it is common knowledge i do not generally accept gifted concubines from territories out of my own."

she watches his adam's apple rise and fall, tracing a nail over the well defined jawline. xerre shivers.

  "however, your king is new to his throne, and his queen one of my dearest friends. do you realise how our alliance will look were i to send you back?"

he nods cautiously.

  "i do not wish to withdraw support from someone i consider a brother, xerre. especially when he is engaged in armed conflict on two fronts."

  "i- i am prepared for any punishment your majesty deems appropriate."

diana sighs softly. "i would send you to work for me in the capitol, but the rules state every concubine entering must reside here for a certain amount of time. until then, bear with it. this palace, and a life of luxury, is only meant for my favorites. clear?"

  "yes, your majesty."

  "my apologies, ma'am," felix says once the crowd disperses, his head hanging. "i should've prepared for your arrival with more care."

she waves off the apology, heading to the guest hall to take a look at the new obelian  concubines.

  "vera leaves for her son's wedding for a week and we've already had an incident. honestly, felix."

  "...who's vera?"

diana pauses at the unfamiliar voice. her gaze falls on the figure sitting on the window seat, entirely immersed in the book in his hands. she blinks, stunned, watching the colourful window's filtered light paint the brilliant blonde of his hair.

felix is the first to address him, scoffing, "i believe your majesty's beauty has enchanted one of the gods - who else would dare address the empress of our nation so casually?"

diana chuckles, watching as the man stands, intrigued. she stays silent, breath hitched, as he towers over her, studying her with a curiosity that rivals hers from a moment ago. and only when he finally lowers himself to a knee does his hair part, and diana flushes at the red tinting his ears.

  "greetings to her imperial majesty, may the gods grant the protector of the siodonnan people a life long and blessed."

she offers him her hand. "rise. and tell me your name."

a beat of silence passes as he stares at her outstretched hand before hesitantly accepting. "claude, your majesty."

  "claude," diana tries, finding it rolls of her tongue deliciously.

he raises an eyebrow as she regards him. "your majesty...?"

diana smiles, her hand moving to touch the various jewellery adorning his fingers. gently, she slides off the gold ring off of his ring finger. "you must have a good reason to be donning an unauthorized magical item in my palace."

he doesn't answer, head lowered.

her hand lets go of his, raising to grip the blonde's jaw. diana tilts up his face, meeting his gaze. the dull grey eyes from before have vanished, replaced by glittering blues.

she inhales sharply. "you're...the obelian pr...the second prince of obelia."

he nods.

diana turns, more puzzled than angry. "why is he in my harem?"

  "... didn't your majesty wish for it?" felix tilts his head in confusion.

  "what? no?"

the knight frowns. "but i was so sure...your majesty said you didn't have an heir because you wanted a concubine as beautiful as me...when we took over the imperial palace, as the army swore their allegiance...your majesty said the prince was the prettiest you’ve ever seen?"

  "i- felix, i was kidding!"

  "...oh."

she turns to the prince then, "and you! you're a prince! how come you just went along with this??"

  "well...it was the most peaceful part of the palace..."

diana gapes at the two men, before finally sighing in defeat. "you're telling me i was scouring the lands for you, while you were right...?" she raises a hand to massage her temple, "...gods grant me patience."

felix cautiously steps forward, "your majesty...i understand this is shocking, but... tonight's escort..."

she glances up at the obelian prince. "allow them all to retire. i've found the perfect escort."

a/n: hmmm this was a bit empty claudiana wise, wasn't it? their development is coming though, i had to give empress!diana an intro :) also !! the situation may seem a bit confusing rn, but next chapter will clear things up! or you can just ask me for clarification <3

💕 felix is dying to find a concubine diana likes bc he really really really wants to be an uncle

💕 in siodonna, emperors/empresses are referred to by their first(diana) + middle name(celeste) and not a last name bc they technically can't belong to a house, they belong to the empire. but the middle name is important bc you have to ask for it (from someone you love and respect usually), you're never just born with one (so you could ask a parent / friend / mentor yada yada and they give you a name they believe fits best)

[rwbyvein]

Firen Lhain: Chapter 905: Atlas:  Part I / III

Large, metal doors opened up and the airship flew inside.

"Yo?" Yang asked.

"Summer Princess?" Taj replied.

"I thought you said we would get a good look at Atlas?"

"I asked you if you wanted to." Taj replied. "You guys couldn't decide. We get priority birthing, and lower fees, if we use the military bays."

"We get what?" Yang asked.

Taj slowly landed the airship. Once it was settled he stood up and looked around the bulkhead into the back, "Apparently the General has faith in you." He then pulled back into the cockpick. "I've got plenty to do here. You guys go and enjoy yourself."

Yang stood up and stretched. "So, what are we doing here, anyways? Wedding shit?" Jaune stood up, rocked his head backwards and then glared at her. "No wedding shit?" Yang asked.

"I'm getting food." Jaune voiced, and then gestured to Aurora. "She's getting... uh? Everything?"

"That is a brief summary." Aurora stated.

Jaune then gestured to Ciel and Penthesilea, "They are retrieving their effects from Atlas Academy."

"Pardon?" Ciel stated, and Jaune looked at her.

"Huh?" Jaune asked, "You weren't expecting to move to the castle permanently. Did you... didn't you leave anything at the Academy you'd want to pick up?"

"I did not." Ciel stated.

Jaune lightly recoiled. "Uh, okay. What about clothing and stuff?"

"I have sufficient vestiments." Ciel stated.

"You're not in the academy anymore." Jaune stated, "You can, you know?.."

"Coming from Jaune?" Blake asked.

"Friend-Jaune does wear armour." Penthesilea stated, instantly standing up.

"Pardon?" Ciel asked, "What can I do?"

"You know?" Yang asked, "Branch out. Do your own thing?"

"Is my attired inappropriate?" Ciel asked, and Taj stepped out of the cockpit.

"Is any clothing inapprorpiate for a Huntsman?" he asked, and Jaune looked at him and shrugged.

"Jaune could use an arming doublet." Aurora stated.

"I guess, yeah..." Jaune stated. "I do kind of have to get the food." He looked into Aurora's eyes, and something was hidden there. "What did you do?"

"I may or may not have already reserved necessary provisions and provided them with a delivery location."

Jaune just stared into her eyes.

"How did you know where we'd dock?" Yang asked. "We didn't even know where we'd dock. I kind of thought we'd get a flyby."

"Oh?" Aurora asked, "I did it as we were moving into the bay."

"Alright?" Yang asked, "Ciel's got nothing to pick up, what about Penthesilea?"

"I would like to say hello to my father." Penthesilea stated.

"Alright, so team PC is going to see Pen's dad." Yang stated. "Aurora's got her stuff to do. Big Guy was going to pick up food, but apparently Little Bit beat him to it, so, what's Jaune going to do?"

"We could get him an arming doublet." Aurora stated, "Though, given his previous statement about his shopping, I doubt he would wish to do so. I do have his measurements, and so could do so with him. Perhaps something woven with ice dust to keep him cool in combat."

"Keep him what?" Yang asked, and Aurora stepped up to her. "As someone who gets hot in combat, how do you think you would do with several layers of protection?"

"Are we talking clothing, or armour?" Yang asked.

"Implying armour does not contain heat?" Aurora asked.

"I thought, with the metal, up north, he might, you know, freeze?"

"That is also a risk, at least when not in the heat of combat." Aurora stated. Modern clothing for Huntsmen are far better at gaining or losing heat, though it is difficult to radiate heat when strapped into armour."

"Alright?" Yang asked, "So, what happens when he gets too cool?"

"That is an intriguing question?" Aurora asked.

"Do I get a say in this?" Jaune asked.

"Of course." Aurora asked him, "What are your preferences for your doublet?"

"I don't know?" Jaune asked, "I honestly agree with most of what you said."

"Oh, yes, thank you." Aurora replied.

"Wait just a minute." Yang said to him, "You buy like the perfect thing for me and Ruby, and you give Blake her magic body paint." She gestured to Blake who showed off the swirling patterns on her arms. Yang then looked back to Jaune, "But for yourself, you what, don't give a rat's ass?"

"That is a decent summary, yes." Jaune replied.

"Come on, man, you can't expect us to follow you if you can't, you know?.."

Blake stood up and pulled up close to Yang. She leaned in to whisper into her ear, "He supports us. We support him."

Yang looked lost for a moment. "I guess I can't expect to be the only one that needs to get put back together." She paused for a moment, "Alright, so we're not here to plan the wedding? What Jaune was doing has already been done by Aurora?"

"You think I would get used to this?" Jaune asked.

"And Tick-Tock are going to see her dad?" Yang asked.

"Pardon, ma'am?" Ciel asked.

"I believe she means us." Penthesilea stated.

"Oh?" Ciel asked, and paused momentarily, "Acceptable."

"And Little Bit is going to be awsome, like she always is." Yang stated.

"Thank you." Aurora said to her.

"So?" Yang asked, and paused to breathe in deeply, "What are we going to do?" Jaune just blinked in reply before shrugging. "We could go for a flyby?" Yang asked.

"Don't worry about." Taj said, and everyone looked at him. "I booked us to do a fly-by on the way out. It's much better in the moonlight. More shimmering; less backstabbing."

"Swank." Yang said, and then paused as it dawned on her, "So, what do we do?"

"Friend-Yang?!" Penthesilea asked, "You, Friend-Blake and Friend-Jaune can accompany me! I would be happy to introduce you to my father."

"And Ilia?" Blake asked.

"I doubt Jaune will be able to enjoy himself if he doesn't know that Aurora is safe." Ilia stated.

Jaune looked about nervously. Yang stepped forward to kiss him on the lips. "She'll take good care of the Little Bit." Yang stated, and turned towards Ilia, "And call us if anything happens."

"Understood." Ilia stated.

Jaune then turned towards Ilia, "And take care of yourself."

"Is that an order?" Ilia asked, and Jaune sighed. He breathed in deep. Ilia blushed and looked down, "I'm sorry."

"If it has to be." Jaune said to her, and she just looked at him. "I don't want to see anyone... get hurt..."

"What about Hothead?" Yang asked.

"Except maybe her." Jaune stated. "I'm kind of like 50/50 on that. But family. Including minions. Especially minions. I don't want to see anything happen."

"Alright, you heard Daddy." Yang stated, "He doesn't want to see any of us dying."

"Daddy?" Penthesilea asked, "Mr. Xiao Long, Friend-Yang?"

"By her inflection?" Ciel asked, "It seems unlikely. I am curious who this 'Daddy'" she said to Yang.

Yang grabbed Jaune by his arm, "I haven't called my dad that for as long as I can remember. No. No. Dad is Dad, and hubby here is Daddy."

"Affirmative." Ciel stated.

"Wait, what?" Yang asked.

"You got what you wanted." Blake said to her.

"Okay, but I was expecting, I don't know?" Yang asked.

"Your pet name for your husband is Daddy." Ciel stated.

"Don't you, kind of wonder why?" Yang asked.

"I am curious." Ciel affirmed as she nodded, "But it does seem to be a personal matter."

* * *

Weiss put down her pen and stood up in the tower's library.

"What's up?" Ruby asked her.

"While I certainly appreciate your zeal, I feel now might be a good chance for us to take a break."

"Tea?" Ruby eagerly asked, wagging her tail. Weiss looked about nervously. "What's the matter?" she asked.

"Pardon?" Weiss asked, "Nothing."

"You're afraid you can't make good tea?" Ruby asked her.

"Certainly not as good as Aurora's." Weiss stated, "Nevermind approching Ilia's skill."

"Oh, come on, you will do fine." Ruby admonished her.

"Well, it will be your funeral." Weiss stated, "Our funeral."

"We should invite Neo!" Ruby exclaimed.

"If she is so inclined." Weiss stated. "Why don't you ask her while I prepare us our tea."

Ruby Petal Burst away. Weiss turned towards the stairs when Ruby Petal Burst in front of her to give her a kiss on the cheek before disappearing once again.

* * *

Ruby loudly knocked on Neo's door a few times, and simply waited. "Is she even there?" she asked, but heard no knock in reply. Ruby Petal Burst up the stairs.

* * *

Ruby Petal Burst out onto the tower's roof, before pausing and looking around. "Well!" she loudly said, causing it to echo about, "I guess someone doesn't want any tea!" she exclaimed. She then Petal Burst away. Neo's hallucination shattered as she looked where Ruby had stood.

* * *

Neo kneeled down on the stairway and craned her head around the floor to the library. This is where the pair of them liked to have their tea or coffee or whatever it was. Ruby's eyes met with hers and she quickly pulled away.

"If our lone wolf perchance stalking us?" Weiss asked.

"I won the fight." Ruby proudly stated, "I'm the lone wolf."

"You did win the fight." Weiss replied, "But you also have a husband and 3 co-wives. Nevermind Ren and Nora, Ilia, Aurora, and, um, Mr. T-Rex." Ruby glared at Weiss. "Glare all you want, but while you are certainly a wolf, you are just not a lone one."

"Okay, fine!" Ruby let out an exascerbated sigh, "The lone wolf is watching us."

"Did she care to join us for tea?!" Weiss loudly asked, and a moment later the look in Ruby's eyes proved she was moving down. Weiss tried to ignore her approach until she appeared on the table beside her. Weiss then turned her head towards her, "I apologize if my tea is not up to the standards of Ilia or Aurora." She paused as Neo gave her a neutral look. "Do you take sugar or cream in your tea?" Neo again gave her a neutral expression. Weiss paused a moment as it dawned on her, "Have you not tried cream and sugar with your tea?" Neo sadly looked down. "Then you will have to try it now." Weiss stated.

[nestasgalpal]

To take without permission

Fixing ACOTAR part 6

Masterlist | AO3

Summary: Nesta climbs down the stairs once again, and when she comes back to the top, Starfall is waiting for her. Amren is there too, and they are finally forced to face one another.

Tagging:  @gwynriel @zoyaslai @clolikescloquetas @amelievrstr @t8astr8ng @wanderlustlastsforever @saltydreamcollector @lordlorcan @esrahiba @queenestarcheron @ko0mbayamylord-deactivated20210  @jemstan300 @nessiantrashh @mothergwyn @poisonus-bloom  @loveadora @frosted-crackers  @mireillemystique @pataytayo @968sunflower968 @caram267 @jainadurron @darkshadowqueensrule @amphiptree @finae-bookshelf @niytavia @brainlessfruit @dontgetsalmonella @messyhairday-me @sunsummoner  @chosenfamily-valkyriequeens @wannawriteyouabook @psychoticminx @misswonderflower​

A/N: I’m writting a whole Starfall scene following this chapter

Open air and music flowed around her, glasses clinking and clothing rustling, and she opened her eyes again as Cassian set her down after taking her to the terrace in his arms.

Stars flowed overhead. Thousands and thousands of stars. She barely remembered last year’s Starfall. Had been too drunk to care.

But this, so high up …

Nesta didn’t care that she was covered in sweat, wearing her leathers amongst a bejeweled crowd. Not as she staggered onto the veranda at the top of the House and gaped at the stars raining across the bowl of the sky. They zoomed by, so close some sparked against the stones, leaving glowing dust in their wake.

She had a vague sense of Cassian and Mor and Azriel nearby, of Feyre and Rhys and Lucien, of Elain and Varian and Helion. Of Kallias and Viviane, also swollen with child and glowing with joy and strength. Nesta smiled in greeting and left them blinking, but she forgot them within a moment because the stars, the stars, the stars…

She hadn’t realized that such beauty existed in the world. That she might feel so full from wonder it could hurt, like her body couldn’t contain all of it. And she didn’t know why she cried then, but the tears began rolling down her face.

She thought about Emerie, who was in Illyria, and wondered if she was glaring at the sky and marveling at the sight of the same explosion of light and color she saw when she looked upwards.

Then, her thoughts went to Gwyn, and Nesta asked herself if the priestess could see the stardust falling from the night sky from the window in her bedroom. Nesta pictured Gwyn’s radiant smile, her auburn hair, all covered in sparkly blue dust.

The world was beautiful, and she was so grateful to be in it. To be alive, to be here, to see this. She stuck out a hand over the railing, grazing a star as it shot past, and her fingers came away glowing with lilac and green dust. She laughed, a sound of pure joy, and she cried more, because that joy was a miracle.

“That’s a sound I never thought to hear from you, girl” Amren said beside her.

The delicate female was regal in a gown of light gray, diamonds at her throat and wrists, her usual black bob silvered with the starlight.

Nesta wiped away her tears, smearing the stardust upon her cheeks and not caring. For a long moment, her throat worked, trying to sort through all that sought to rise from her chest. Amren just held her stare, waiting.

Nesta didn’t really know what to say. The only thing in her head was their last encounter, when she stormed into her apartment and exploded. Nesta had to master herself -her breathing, so the bitter tint of the memory didn’t ruin the happiness that had been filling her soul mere seconds ago. She wouldn't give Amren the power to make such a wonderful moment bad for her. She was better than that. Than her.

Knowing Amren, and knowing how Amren thought of her, a calculating and spoiled girl, Nesta gave herself the privilege of not answering to her greeting.

Nesta braced herself and waited for the insult, but instead, Amren fell to one knee and bowed her head. The movement was so sudden, Nesta didn't have time to understand what she was doing before Amren said, “I am sorry.”

Nesta made a sound of surprise, knowing that the others were watching. Normally she would hate the attention, the stares —she had always found comfort in privacy. But watching the silver and green dust coat Amren’s black hair as the female bend the knee to her, Nesta didn’t care for the others. She eyed the figure before her and waited, wary and way more tense than a simple bow should make herr. But it was not just anyone bending the knee, it was Amren, the Second in Command of the Night Court. The female who had made up a law to imprison her.

And she was apologizing to her. “I was jealous of the power you were given while mine was taken. I was mad you didn't show respect for the blessing you received. And scared of what you might do with it. And too proud to admit it.”

You are a pathetic waste of life, Amren had told her. The insult had hit her so deep that Nesta thought for a long, long time that she was right —That she was a waste of life. But she was not. Nesta hesitated, doubting if an apology, public or not, could really make up for the damage her words, her voluntary absence in Nesta's life, had provoked. To Amren, who had never bowed to anyone but Rhysand, and only a couple of times in her lifetime, doing it in front of everyone so they could watch her bare herself to someone else was humiliating. Nesta knew that. But to her, it meant nothing. She didn't want Amren to embarrass herself. She didn't want her to suffer half of what she had been through. She wanted an explanation. She wanted to know why her only friend in Prythian had decided to turn her back to her without a second thought.

Because Amren hadn't just pretended Nesta was a stranger as she went on with her life, like other had. No, she had made an enemy of her, and she had conspired with Rhysand to take everything from her, make her vulnerable, a puppet. She had picked on her at every occasion, knowing Nesta was at her lowest.

So bowing would do nothing. An excuse would do nothing. Nesta's forgiveness demanded a reason she could understand of why Amren had made of Nesta a monster in everyone's mind on purpose and with such ease.

You are a pathetic waste of life. The words had been like a poisoned knife straight though her guts. Though her heart, because Nesta had trusted Amren, and had thought she had a true friend in her. Someone to have her back no matter what.

“Scared of what, Amren?” She demanded “Did I ever give you reasons to see me as a threat? Did I ever do anything to any of you to make you fear me?”

Through her lashes, Amren looked up at Nesta. The diamonds in her neck reflecting the shimmer of the stars above.

“You gave me reasons to see you as an unreliable vessel for the power you were given. For all I knew, you could have killed yourself by accident in a bar fight. And you refused to go back into training your abilities.”

“Even though Feyre requested I did, yes. I remember.”

That had been the breaking point. With that order, Feyre had drawn the line in the sand where her concern as a sister stopped, and her authority as a High Lady began. She would try convincing Nesta her way was the best way, and when she didn't cooperate, Feyre would resort to using force. Power. Influence. Authority. Feyre had given an order to Amren so they went back to training Nesta's abilities. And Nesta was the one who refused, yes, but Amren was the one who listened to Feyre —the High Lady, not her friend— and put her job before their friendship in the first place. Feyre gave an order, and Amren didn't hesitate. And maybe with Feyre, Amren had two different relationships that she balanced: one where they were simply friends, and other where she had to obey; Nesta didn't know nor did she care at this point. But the saddest part for Nesta was that, for her, Amren had only been a friend. Her only friend.

And if Amren had bothered to explain to her that it hadn't been the command what made her change her mind but the realization that she wasn't being helpful, like Feyre did in her painting studio, maybe she would have understood, in the end. But she had turned her back on her fully. And Nesta had been the only one paying for that.

Nesta had once seen everything as either Feyre's or hers. And she had trusted the ancient one to the point of telling her that. That sometimes she still struggled to manage their new dynamic. Sister, but also High Lady. Nesta wasn't sure if Feyre was her High Lady even, if she belonged to the Night Court the same way her sister did. And Amren had played that on her, knowing Nesta wouldn't understand her reasons nor her sister's as she called her calling childish and walked away.

No matter how many times she bowed to her, Nesta was unsure if she would ever trust the female as she once had.

So the only thing left for Nesta to do as everyone watched and Amren waited was to become the Queen of Darkness they all feared. Her eyes became the hardest steel, her gaze unwavering. Her back was straight, shoulders back and chin up. If she wanted to apologize now when her face was covered in glittery dust, her hair out of place after climbing up ten thousand steps and her eyes were red from crying, she would let her. But Amren wouldn't find in her a tired child. She would have to talk to the female she had tried to push down in the first place. Amren had wanted the version of Nesta who made High Lords go rigid to vanish, so if she really wanted Nesta's pardon, she would have to earn it facing her.

“What you fail to realize even now" Nesta started, her voice breaking the silence that reigned in the balcony "is that my power was not given to me. It wasn’t a blessing grant it to me because I was worthy. I took it because I wanted to. And the Cauldron was not strong enough to stop me. Do you think that the silly words you use to distract from the fact that you are powerless will be a good enough barrier to keep me from what I wish to do or take?" The words rambled out of her mouth like thunder "You think you can stop me, if taking my life and yours with it is what I want?”

Amren’s silver eyes shone with something like pride. It was not a challenge, Nesta realized. It was recognition, acknowledgement —of her. Of the Nesta who had befriended and then tried to destroy unsuccessfully. The Nesta that would never yield under anyone's command.

Amren saw her. She saw the girl she had been when asking why everyone was so afraid of her -because Nesta truly wasn’t even a bit thrown off by Amren’s now lost power. Amren saw in the Nesta who stand in front of her the woman who stole from the Cauldron itself, who wore the Mask from the Trove and didn’t die because she commanded Death.

So Nesta let that silver flame meet her own irises and match Amren’s fire.

In the corner of her eye, Nesta could tell how Feyre shuddered, Rhysand by her side in a protective stance.

He wouldn’t be able to stop her either, neither would that unbreakable shield of his. Nesta hated the wary look in everyone’s eyes, as if she was a wild animal and her next move was equal parts unpredictable and dangerous. As if nothing had changed and all those months in the House of Wind had been for nothing.

She hadn’t moved, hadn’t raised her voice. She had only been the version of herself that had saved her life countless times when enemies stronger than here attacked.

Nesta only wanted to look at the stars and enjoy the night, go back to her room in a few hours with her stomach full and covered in bright stardust. Why was everyone so scared of what she might do to them, when the only person her power had ever hurt was herself?

Among the tight faces, she saw Cassian, his hazel eyes warm like a summer sunset. Looking straight at her. His hair was no longer black, it was blue, and purple, golden and all the colors of the rainbow. And he didn’t look scared or even a bit worried, he was just… looking. Casual. Almost relaxed.

So Nesta relaxed too. It’s a beautiful night, a charming party and a wonderful time to be alive and among friends, his eyes told her.

And he was right.

Only recently Nesta had found back the joy for life —if she had even experienced it before. Sometimes she still doubted. But she wanted to live now, no matter how hard things were. She had finally found the alleviation of being forgiven during her short trip back to the Mortal Lands. First, she would seek forgiveness from the people she loved and had hurt. Then, from herself.

She was not healed, but definitely on the right path.

She had Cassian, who was a friend.

She also had her sister, who she trusted.

She had friends of her own who were probably in their bedrooms, fighting their own battles as they did every night and as eager to meet the next day and train together as she was.

Nesta no longer wanted people on her side, only by her side. It was not a race or a competition. She had been fighting only against herself.

Having Amren in front of her, kneeling with her head bowed and everyone looking, waiting for her to do something —spectators in a trial waiting for the judge to pass the sentence, Nesta thought that maybe she was entitled to forgive others, too. Maybe she was willing, even.

She was ready to let go of all the resentment that ate her alive.

She had to let go.

Nesta tend her a hand. Amren said nothing else, she only lifted her head to find Nesta’s eyes on her, something like wonder on her face. Amren’s eyes became lined with silver, a hint of how they had once been. And her old friend took the hand that Nesta was offering her. She helped her rise.

Even as a high fae, Amren had a way of getting under Nesta’s skin, of provoking in her an urge to get everything out of her chest. A long time ago, Nesta had found herself in her apartment, crawled in her fancy velvet couch and not feeling judged while she cried. After last summer’s incident, the closest thing to an emotion Amren ignited in her had been anger. Lastly, her words no longer got to her, indifference a soft echo in her head whenever Amren called her a whore. Boredom at the unoriginality.

No matter how many people were still looking, watching Amren get up from the floor, the fabric of her dress whirling around her like waves from a silver sea, Nesta felt back the urge to talk to Amren. To tell her how badly she had needed her for months, and how lost she had found herself when she didn’t have a friend reaching their hand anymore.

But she didn't. Now it was Amren who had to prove herself worthy of a second chance.

Amren looked back at the silent crowd, and suddenly all of them found the stars raining from above them fascinating. They were.

When everyone occupied themselves back, Kallias and Viviane dancing, Feyre eating a pastry from a nearby table, Amren spoke again. “I went poking about the House when we arrived an hour ago. I saw what you did to this place.”

Nesta’s brow furrowed. She hadn’t changed anything.

“The House sings. I can hear it in the stone. And when I spoke to it, it answered. Granted, it gave me a pile of romance novels by the end of it, but … you caused this House to come alive, girl.”

“I didn’t do anything.”

“You made the House,” Amren said, smiling again, a slash of red and white in the glowing dark. “When you arrived here, what did you wish for most?”

Nesta considered, watching a few stars whiz past. “A friend. Deep down, I wanted a friend.”

Amren’s face tensed a little. She was also making an effort, Nesta realized. She was swallowing her pride as much as Nesta had been by letting everyone witness such a private moment. It was a start.

That’s what she had wanted. That’s the only thing Nesta had always wanted throughout her entire life.

“So you made one. Your power brought the House to life with a silent wish born from loneliness and desperate need.”

“But my power only creates terrible things. The House is good” Nesta breathed.

��Is it?”

Nesta considered. “The darkness in the pit of the library —it’s the heart of the House.”

Amren nodded. “And where is it now?”

“It hasn’t made an appearance in weeks. But it’s still there. I think it’s just … being managed. Maybe the House’s knowledge that I’m aware of it, and didn’t judge it, makes it easier to keep in check.”

Amren put a hand above Nesta’s heart. “That’s the key, isn’t it? To know the darkness will always remain, but how you choose to face it, handle it … that’s the important part. To not let it consume. To focus upon the good, the things that fill you with wonder.” She gestured to the stars zooming past. “The struggle with that darkness is worth it, just to see such things.”

But Nesta’s gaze had slid from the stars —finding a familiar face in the forgotten crowd, dancing with Mor. Laughing, his head thrown back. So beautiful she had no words for it.

Amren chuckled gently. “And worth it for that, too.”

Nesta looked back at her. Amren smiled, and her face became as lovely as Cassian’s, as the stars arching past. “Welcome back to the Night Court, Nesta Archeron.”

Nesta tend her a hand again for Amren to shake it. To seal the truce. Amren took it and shook it, her grip tight.

“I’m sorry too” Nesta added. Not sorry for anything in particular, but because she felt like she had handled everything in her life the wrong way since the beginning. She was sorry, she wanted to voice it, and Amren was, once again, the one next to her, willing to listen and not judge.

“Then I’ll send you the bill of rehanging the door of my apartment.”

Nesta laid back against the veranda. “And I’ll send it back to Feyre” she laughed. Amren burst a laughter too, loud and honest.

Starfall was almost too beautiful to witness.

After a short while, Nesta went back inside, not having talked to anyone after Amren went back to dance with Varian. The one person Nesta would have liked to dance with was busy, his hands on someone else’s waist.

The stars still buzzed over the House. She bathed quickly and changed into a clean and simple dress. Nothing fancy, but better than the sweaty leathers.

When she came out of her room, Feyre was slowly coming down the stairs from the floor above, her pregnancy making it a little harder to climb down the bunch of stairs that it would have been for her months ago.

“I was looking for you” She was radiant. She wore one of those see-through dresses she liked so much and a crown made of golden stars.

“I wanted a moment with you too.” Nesta stopped by her side. “I actually need a favor.” Feyre nodded, inviting Nesta to go on and ask without conditions. “I’m heading to the library… I’m sure Gwyn —my friend, is awake, and I think she would love to see the Starfall from outside her room.”

Feyre didn’t even think about it before she responded, her smile huge “Sure, Cass has told me abut her. She is more than welcomed into our party”

Nesta felt a tug in her stomach. That was not what she was about to ask Feyre to do. She felt a little guilty, but hoped Feyre would understand her decision, even if she didn’t share it.

Nesta’s mind was sure. She only had to ask Feyre. Voice what she clearly wanted so her sister knew. It was easy.

“I was wondering if any of you could be absent for a short while and go find Emerie. She is our friend too, but she lives in Illyria” Feyre���s lips twitched, the pinch of disappointment so obvious in her eyes that it didn’t really matter that her smile didn’t fade. “I can’t winnow” she added.

“I’ll ask Az” Nesta nodded. Feyre considered a thought for a moment and put a hand on Nesta’s shoulder, squeezing it. “And I’ll teach you how to winnow too, in the future” Feyre laughed, her teeth white. “I’m sure you have the magic to fuel it, you just need practice and in a week you’ll be able to move around just fine”

A grin formed in her lips at the idea. She would like that… the freedom to come and go. She could mess with Gwyn and Emerie during the training sessions too. She laughed.

When Feyre’s eyes watered, her hand still resting on her shoulder, Nesta realized her sister hadn't seen her laugh before. Nesta hadn’t done it for years, to be fair. But she felt good doing it. And she felt glad her sister finally got to be a part of it.

“Are you sure you don’t want to join us up there? It’s the best spot in the city” One last try, just in case Nesta changed her mind. But once she rejected the offer, Feyre wouldn’t insist beyond.

Even if they were still welcome to join them.

“I don’t really care abut the place.”

And Feyre understood what she meant.

Because they would always be sisters, but it was undeniable that each of them had found a family and friends of their own. And they would always be together —they would always be there for each other, but Nesta wanted to spend the most beautiful night of the year among her friends, just as Feyre did.

And it was okay, because they would have thousands more in the future to share.

[fortuitous-juxtapositions]

Art of Deception Part 1 (Count Orlo x Female Reader)

Summary: An Orlo x Reader slow burn. You and your uncle have just arrived in Peter III's court from the Colonies. You uncle has warned you of the debauchery of the court and devises a plan to keep you safe, but the Emperor has other ideas. You find yourself thrown to the wolves and you must keep your secret while while fighting the growing feelings you have for the one person in court you who you would tell the secrets of the universe to if he would only ask.

Note: This is my first fanfic on Tumblr though I have written others. I fell in love with this adorable man and had to write this down. Please let me know what you think!

Anything in Italics indicates the characters are speaking English as opposed to Russian

Thank you to @always-a-fairycat for proofreading!

Work can also be found on Ao3 https://archiveofourown.org/works/25566277

…...

“It is a dangerous place, my dear,” your uncle warned as the carriage jostled you from side to side. After traveling so long you hardly noticed the movements any longer.

“If it is so dangerous, then why not leave me back in the Colonies?” you replied in disinterest as you watched the trees float by through the window.

“Because that is no place for a woman to be left on her own,” he sighed and mopped at his head with a silk kerchief. “It is… dangerous.”

“More dangerous than the Russian Court?” you asked with a smirk.

“Insolent child,” your uncle lamented in frustration. “At least with you here, I can watch over you for the short time we are in court.”

“So you teaching me to fight was just for, what? Killing the Emperor?” you joked.

“Shh!” he hissed, “do not say such things… In fact, do not say anything unless you have to!”

You tossed your head back with a frustrated whine.

“Shall I just pretend I do not speak Russian at all then?” you joked, shooting a look over to the elder man.

He groaned, but then a contemplative look fell over his features. His wrinkled hand came up and rubbed the salt and pepper stubble that adorned his chin.

“That’s not a bad idea…”

“You can’t be serious!” you snapped.

“My dear, a woman from the colonies is going to cause quite a stir at court. I expect the Emperor himself will find interest in you, and that you most certainly do not want. But, if he were unable to regale you with his innumerable and glorious attributes, he may lose interest.”

“But-”

“No buts!” He cut you off and you leveled a glare at him. “I have made my decision. We will speak no more on it.” He sat back, a satisfied smile adorning his features.

“Now listen-”

“Ah, ah, ah.” His hand came up to silence you.

“That’s not-”

“Ah, ah!”

You sat back and huffed, crossing your arms over your chest.

“You’re lucky that I love you, old man.” you harrumphed. He grinned knowingly at you and tapped the side of his nose, his bright blue eyes sparkling in the low light.

“English or French only, my dearest.”

“But my French is horrible.”

“Oui, all the better for us!”

……

When you finally arrived at the palace you had yet to sway your uncle’s decision but all arguments to the contrary had died in your throat once you had lain eyes upon the grandiose building that towered high above you and seemed to stretch on endlessly. You looked on, dumbfounded as your uncle chuckled at your awestruck expression.

“I could never have dreamed up such a place!” Your voice was breathy and low.

“Yes, it is a pretty cage.” You turned and were met with a stoic expression, one you had never seen adorn the elder’s face. “But inside it is filthy, covered in a layer of grime set there by the greed and corruption of those who are housed within its walls.”

The near hiss in his voice chilled you and you began to wonder if his overprotection of you was in fact, warranted. He glanced over at your concerned face and forced a smile to his own.

“But never mind that. We will only be here for a short while after all. It is just a formality that we meet with the Emperor and discuss our business in the Colonies. After that we will travel to the estate and spend the rest of our time in the godless country at the only little piece of Heaven that exists in this shit hole.”

“Very… uh… descriptive, Uncle.” You raised an eyebrow and he smirked, The carriage came to a halt and your uncle turned serious once more.

“I know you disagree with me, but please just don’t say anything in Russian. You will understand once you get in there, just please trust me.”

You took a deep breath and nodded to him.

“Of course, I trust you. I promise I will not say a word in Russian... for the time being” you relented and his shoulders relaxed slightly.

With a nod the door of the carriage was pulled open by a gloved servant who bowed in greeting to you uncle as he exited the cab. You swallowed thickly and took your uncle’s hand as he assisted you. Your feet hit the gray stone driveway and you stopped a beat to take in just how large the palace truly was.

“We finished preparing your apartments this morning, Count (Y/L/N),” the man said as he led you into the massive, ornate double doors. “The Emperor wishes to convey his disappointment that he was unable to greet you personally but would like you to attend him in the throne room once you have had a chance to settle in.”

Your uncle was unable to keep his derisive snort at bay as he quickly covered it up with a coughing fit.

“Excuse me, I’m not used to the dust,” he explained. “Please convey my gratitude to the Emperor.”

Your uncle continued to chat with the servant, but all lost on you as you stepped inside the palace. You had never seen such beauty and opulence before. The walls were trimmed in gold filigree, statues and vases lined every nook,  fragrant flowers were placed strategically throughout the halls perfuming the air, serfs and servants clambered through the halls disappearing nearly as quickly as they had appeared. Each hall was a different assault to the senses. It felt as if the very walls were alive, buzzing with the stories of those who lived and worked in this gargantuan edifice.The beauty of it took your  breathe away and you wanted to just stand aside and watch the life of the palace drive on.

The atmosphere changed, however, as you drew closer and closer to the apartments. Men and women lined the hall in various states of dress. Those who were clothed wore the finest silks in rich colors and patterns while those who weren’t still maintained their status by wearing ridiculously complex powdered wigs and ostentatious jewels. An overwhelming smell of alcohol and vomit assaulted your senses so violently that not even the prettiest and most fragrant of flowers could disguise it vile scent. Shouting accompanied by the sound of shattering glass nearly camouflaged the arguments, crying and moans of pleasure that reverberated from nearly every corner and nook. It was overwhelming to someone who had spent the majority of their life away from the crowds, knowing of only their family and those who worked for them as you had. Again your breath was taken from you, but for entirely different reasons. The stench stung your nostrils causing you to flinch as your eyes watered.

You scurried closer to your uncle and he wrapped a protective arm around you, pulling you to his side. He had no need to worry about you speaking Russian. He had no need to worry about you speaking at all. You were struck dumb by blatant and open debauchery that was transpiring around you.

After too long walking through the filthy halls the servant finally reached a set of doors and stopped in front of them. He pushed both doors open with a flourish and stood to one side, allowing you and your uncle to finally escape the madness that was contained withing the palace walls. With a snap, the doors were closed and all you could hear was a faint rumble of voices from beyond. You released a breath and turned, wide-eyed to your uncle.

“I know, my dear.” He spoke in English and patted your arm in reassurance.

“Your luggage arrived yesterday, Count (L/N).” The servant bowed and gestured to the doors that flanked both sides of the receiving room. “Komtesse (L/N)’s things have been unpacked and placed in the room to your right and yours have been unpacked and placed in the room to your left. A serf will be in shortly to assist you with anything else you may need. May I suggest that you and the Komtesse freshen up and make your way to the throne room?”

“Yes, yes. Thank you, Igor,” your uncle dismissed the man who left with a nod.

You removed your muddy travel cloak and took in the room before you. Unlike the rest of the palace that was covered in rich, dark wood that nearly choked out all light, the receiving room was coated in bright white paint that reflected the sunlight pouring from the open windows. The furniture was done in light blues and silvers which added to the open illusory feel of the space. You halted in your assessment as you noticed the familiar paintings of landscapes and flowers that lined the walls adding to the ethereal décor.

“I had a few of my favorites shipped over to help this space feel more alive.” He grinned at your astonished face. “And your paints are in your room. Perhaps you can find enough beauty in this iniquitous hell hole to inspire a new favorite.”

You smiled in gratitude and opened your mouth to speak when the door flew open and a petite maid who looked to be only slightly older than yourself slipped into the room.

“Beg your pardon, Count (L/N).” She slammed the door closed quickly before the world outside could come spilling forth and disturb the sanctuary within. She curtsied deeply to your uncle. “I was sent to help Komtesse (L/N) prepare for meeting the Emperor. Your valet will be in soon to assist you.”

“Yes, of course.” Your uncle nodded in greeting. “This is my niece, (Y/N).”

“Pleasure to meet you, Komtesse,” she curtsied to you “I am Vera, I will be your servant during your stay here.”

You looked at her silently, your face a mask of neutrality with only the barest hint of a confused smile.

“Oh, my niece does not speak Russian, I am afraid” Your uncle cut in. “She only speaks English and a slight bit of French.” He turned to face you. “Well played my dear. Now, keep that up and we may just get out of here unscathed. Act as if I just relayed to you what Vera had said.”

You smiled brightly and turned to Vera nodding your understanding. Vera hesitated before forcing a smile to her kind face and stepping towards you.

“Well, we’ll make do.” She took your hand. “Come. With. Me. Komtesse.”

Her words were spoken louder than necessary and much slower than required. You turned and gave your uncle a look, but he just motioned you to follow, a shit-eating grin plastered to his face.

……

After a quick wash with a cloth and bowl of clean water scented with lilac, Vera dressed you in a simple blue gown (“That. Is. Not. Nice. Enough. To. Wear. To. Meet. The. Emperor.”) and styled your own natural hair as best as she could (“You. Should. Wear. The. Powdered. Wig. It. Is. What. The. Other. Ladies. Will. Be. Wearing.”). She added the final touch, a silver ornate comb with blood red jewels that your father had presented to your mother when he had asked for her hand in marriage (Well, that’s a pretty trinket.”). You nodded in approval and smiled up at Vera.

“It’ll have to do,” she sighed in frustration but smiled back at you nonetheless.

You stood from the vanity and made your way out of the room, Vera following along behind. Your uncle stood freshened up and dressed in a fine suit of deep maroon with golden embellishments embroidered throughout. Vera stepped from behind you as your uncle looked you over.

“I’m sorry, Count (L/N). She wouldn’t let me put her in anything nicer!” she huffed,

“That sounds about right,” your uncle chuckled and nodded to the frazzled maid. “She looks beautiful either way, thank you Vera.”

“Shall we?” he held his arm up to you. “Be sure to pay attention to our path out of these apartments, you will need to know how to safely find your way back.” You nodded as you took the offered arm. With one last tight smile, your uncle led you through the door and out into the madness.

……

“Are all Emperors this rude?” you huffed. You had been standing in the throne room for nearly an hour, waiting for the Emperor to arrive.

“Regardless of if they are or not, it is well within their right to be.” He shrugged. “He answers to no one but God, so who is to tell him otherwise?”

You rolled your eyes before sweeping them over the portraits that hung in the room for what felt like the hundredth time. Their scowling faces silently passing judgment of you with dead oil paint eyes making you wonder if the artists were unable to capture emotion in their paintings or if the subjects were just unable to fake any to capture. Unease crept over you as they continued their soundless assessment of you and surely found you wanting, a wild thing like you dirtying their halls with your very presence. You tore your gaze from a particularly judgy portrait of a man with hair that stood up in all directions and instead stepped behind your uncle too looked to the serfs who stood on either side of a large ornate trunk. Your uncle had brought it over from New York stuffed near to bursting with goods from the Colonies. Neither serf acknowledged your existence but instead stood tall and quiet, their eyes dull and sightless and not unlike the eyes that gazed back at you from the portraits.

You wondered at the life they must lead here, forced to clean the mess the court left for them in the halls with no pay and not a word of thanks. Back in the Colonies, your uncle made sure his own staffers were always well paid for what work they did, but he had warned you that there were very few actual paid workers in the palace and that all duties were carried out almost entirely by serfs. Your uncle was a progressive and ardent admirer of Voltaire, he long ago abandoned the idea of serfdom, instead freeing those in his debt and offering them pay for their work, even going so far as to offering to teach them how to read and write. Being treated as actual humans rather than possessions had inspired happiness, love and loyalty to your uncle over the years, a sentiment that spilled over to you when you came to live with your uncle at a young age.

The sound of doors being thrown open without regard startled you from your musings and you glanced around your uncle to see a young man with brilliant blue eyes that were complimented with the brown of the ornate leather coat that covered his green shirt and black cloth breeches. His gait suggested an air of pompousness and importance as he swaggered into the throne room, followed closely by a crowd of men who seemed to be agreeing as one with something the young man had said prior to stepping into the room. Satisfied, he turned and caught sight of your uncle who bowed deeply.

“My Emperor.” His low voice rumbled.

“Emperor, Count (L/N) is here to-”

“Dimitri, you old fuck! When did you get back from the colonies?” The Emperor cut off the man, who attempted to announce your uncle, as if he had never spoken at all.

“Arrived just this morning, Emperor.” your uncle replied.

“Did you bring me anything?”

“Yes, Emperor,” your uncle motioned for the serfs to bring the trunk forward. They did so without hesitation and dropped it in front of the Emperor.

“The finest furs and tobacco from the new world,” he revealed as the trunk lid was tossed open. The Emperor raised his brow and motioned for the serfs to bring the first item to him. It was a coat made of the softest beaver fur and lined with golden silk. “That will repel any water so you may wear it even in the rain, your highness.”

“Fucking brilliant!” The Emperor exclaimed, tossing the priceless material over his shoulder. It caught on the edge of a stack of papers that a man beside the Emperor held and sent them scattering to the ground.  The Emperor sighed in annoyance. “Orlo, you useless cunt.”

The man stuttered an apology and bent down to pick up the papers. Without warning the Emperor used his boot to shove the man over, his face met the floor and knocked his eyeglasses askew. The Emperor roared with laughter and the group followed suit as the man painfully pushed himself up to his knees.

Shock and horror filled your heart and without a thought your body began to move of its own accord. You stepped around your uncle where you had been mostly hidden from the crowd and, in only a few hurried steps, you knelt down in front of the man to start gathering the scattered papers from the floor as he regained his composure. His head lifted and you were able to get a good look at his face for the first time. His dark eyes met yours and you saw a profound sadness behind them before it was coated over in shock. His dark skinned drew tight around his jaw, his full lips sputtered and his thick black eyebrows pulled together, rising up towards his coiffed hair.

You silently held the papers out to the man, but it was as if he were blind to your actions. His mouth hung slightly opened and he gazed at you with an unreadable expression. You returned his expression with a gentle smile and gestured to the papers in your hand. He started and blinked a few times as if he was finally able to shake off his bewilderment at anyone coming to his aide.

“Oh... yes.” He gently took the papers from your hand, his fingertips brushing lightly against your own, leaving a ghostly feeling in their wake. “Th-thank you.”

“Christ, Orlo! Did you just cum in your pants?” the Emperor exclaimed before turning to the group men behind him. “Did you hear? I asked if he just came in his pants!”

The men laughed and Orlo’s face turned red in embarrassment as he stood up and clutched the papers to his chest protectively. You stood too, ignoring the laughter that surrounded you as Orlo’s head dropped in shame.

“You, didn’t you hear me?” the Emperor demanded as you turned to him, your face screwed up in a look of confusion. The Emperor looked you over, eyes stopping briefly over your chest before giving you an approving nod. “I don’t think we have met.”

Your uncle’s hand grabbed your arm and tugged you back to his side.

“My niece, (Y/N), Emperor,” he introduced, jaw clenched.

The Emperor hummed in appreciation as you curtsied to him, the act giving him a birds-eye view of your cleavage. You fought to contain the shiver of disgust his unwanted gaze generated in you. He smiled haughtily and moved to step closer you as your body clenched.

“Emperor,” a voice called and all eyes turned towards the dark-haired man, Orlo. “Forgive the interruption but the Empress is expecting you for…”

“Fuck! Yes, yes. Shut up you lobcock,” He turned back towards your uncle. “We will speak more at dinner.”

With one final glance your way he swept out of the room, once again trailed by the group of men. The dark haired man was the last to leave, he opened his mouth like he wanted to say something, but thought better of it and quickly stepped through the door. The hush that fell over the room after the departure of Peter and his men was near deafening. Neither you nor your uncle moved for several moments as you each ran the events over in your mind.

You were the first to break the silence.

“Well... fuck.”

[onefineday20]

Ally [ Tanya X Mubaek ]

(A/N) : this is also available on my wattpad under the same u/n.

************

Anxious thoughts came crowding into my mind, no one is on my side here. I needed an ally who can keep taps on tagon, preferably someone already on his side. I tapped my feet under the table, raking my brain for answers. Who would be willing to betray tagon and join my side? The first name that flashed in my mind was none other than “saya". I sighed, saya is no better than tagon, they're tarred with the same brush, after all he's “the devil's spawn". I can't trust saya, he never takes sides unless there's something in it for him, he's always running after his own benefits. He didn’t hesitate to kidnap my people as hostages before, and he'd do it again if given the chance. I can't look at him without attributing his cruelty and apathy to eunseom. Oh eunseom, I wish you were here. I choked back a sob, now is not the time to drown in a stream of my own sorrows, I need to pull myself together and think rationally.

I walked into the balcony, getting some fresh air might help me gather my thoughts. I tightened my hands around the icy railing, allowing the coldness to chill my bones. The cool of the morning numbed my face to the point where I lost sense in it. I flitted my gaze skywards, in hope to get an answer from our great mother “the great white wolf".

“Who could be my ally?” as expected the sky didn’t open up and eject out a messenger carrying an answer. Disappointed, I squeezed my eyes shut. I knew that joining hands with taealha wasn’t an option either. Tagon might be oblivious to this, but taealha’s abilities makes me regard her as an even bigger threat than him. She's crafty and sharp, and not someone you can mess with.

Shivery and demoralised, I peeled my numb hands off the railing , in order to withdraw to my chamber. My gaze strayed downward, and fell on the figure of a man heading towards the temple entrance. I rejoiced seeing the face of the man who'd make an ideal ally, just the person I have been looking for. He's almost the only person who could possibly challenge tagon's authority. With the daekan's under his command, he is a fearless, and a highly respected warrior by the people. How come he never crossed my mind?

“YANGCHA!!!” not a second was wasted towards putting my plan into motion. Yangcha bulldozed in at my call “inform mubaek that I want to see him immediately” with a slight bow of his head, “tagon's spy" was gone. I grubbed for a brush, and a small pouch containing some lip paint in a small jar, and daubed it on my lips, to add a touch of life to my pale complexion. I had made up my mind, and the gentle knock on the door made me even more resolute “COME IN"

The barrel-chested, tangle-haired warrior raised a hand in greeting and bowed, always from a safe distance away “tanya niruha, you asked for me?” I can’t believe I’m about to do this, I plucked up my courage and pointed to the chair right across from me “you might want to sit down for this, I’m about to ask you to make a very tough decision”

He just stood by the door fixing me with an unblinking stare, did I overdo it with the lip paint? He finally broke the silence “I’ll be well niruha, but you have something on your teeth" oh great!!! I picked up my ornate mirror, and turned my back to him, wiping the pink smudge from my teeth. He politely waited until I was done. I presumed my authoritative aura again “what I wanted to tell you is, I’m going to strike tagon, but I’m going to an ally"

“And you want me to be that ally?” he finished off my sentence “yes, I have a plan, but I can't do it without your help, I need you"

“I need to hear your plan first, what do you have in mind?” I filled him in on my plan, and he listened intently to my every word. “We need to be chary if we don’t want tagon to find out about our plan, if we meet up too often, that'll raise his suspicions”

He stroked his beard “and what do you propose? I'm listening” I forced the words out of my mouth in a half-whisper “marry me!?”

“pardon???” “we should get married to join our powers, and dismiss any doubts in tagon" he smiled like he’d just heard a really funny joke, I knew he wouldn’t take my words seriously. I continued “isn't that what you people do here, marry for power or wealth. Asa mot and tagon did it, so why can't we?”

“Isn't it more suspicious if I marry you out of the blue?” he remarked. “Listen, I’m not asking you to love me, I’m just proposing it for the sake of our cause. I know you don't tagon to be a king either, if he seizes all power, he's going to wreak havoc in the union. As you may already know, he doesn’t trust me either. He has planted yangcha to spy on me, he'll get rid of me when I’m no longer valuable to him"

I took his hands in mine “I need to protect my people, so please think about it until tomorrow, and if you agree, meet me in front of tagon's residence"

Next afternoon right after I had my lunch and the maid cleared the table, a knock sounded on my door. I opened it and found myself face-to-face with mubaek “what are you doing here?”

“I came to escort you” I couldn’t help but smile when he held the door for me, then joined me by walking side by side all the way to tagon's residence. Our high status granted us access to the residence without raising any suspicious, and we paced the corridors awaiting tagon's arrival. I glared at yangcha who was still on our tail, and complained loud enough for him to hear “does he have nothing better to do, why is he still following us? I swear it he'd follow me to the bathroom if he could” Mubaek shook his head in laughter “he's just doing what tagon ordered him to, don't give him a hard time"

Quirking an eyebrow in yangcha's direction,I lowered my voice to a whisper “see, that's precisely why I proposed marriage as a solution, or else yangcha won't leave us alone"

With downcast eyes, he asked again “are you positive you’re making the right choice? You're still young I don't want you to regret making a rash decision later on"

I rubbed my hands together muttering “I won't"

“They're coming, think quick, how are you going to cause a scene?” he urgently demanded, I remembered what I told him yesterday about “causing a scene” To make our story more believable.

“By doing this, they'll believe we're in love" I inched closer to him, cupping his face in my hands, and despite his shell-shocked expression, I planted a kiss on his lips. His undesirous body language soon turned submissive as he played along with my ruse. Our efforts paid off when taealha’s titter rang loud enough to startle me and break our kiss. I feigned innocence like I had just been caught by my parents, doing something that I shouldn’t be doing “the high priestess and the brutish old warrior, who would’ve thought?!” She observed still giggling.

“so you two want to get married?” Tagon sought an answer from his position at the head of the long table in his work room.

I nodded “that's true" upon hearing my confirmation, saya dropped a book with a thud. I completely ignored him when he dusted it off, and gave a half-hearted apology.

Tagon did a steeple with his hand, seemingly noticing saya's reaction to the news “you know tanya, if you wanted to get married, the best candidate for you would be my son, after all you’re friends and of the same age" he gestured to saya in the far corner of the room. I gave saya a sideways glance, his expression was unreadable, marry the devil's spawn? No thanks.

“I'm into older men" I blurted out “and we're in love with each other” mubaek entwinedour hands and squeezed them, he tried his best to sound convincing, but I could tell he was cringing from embarrassment.

“I'm so envious of you two" taealha said under her breath, downing a glass, and pouring another. Tagon clapped his hands on the table, and stood up “will then it's settled, you have my blessing. Saya, you're in charge of the wedding preparations. A high priestess must have a grand wedding. I'll trust you with it son"

Saya merely nodded unwillingly. Tagon walked over to mubaek and hugged him with a broad smile “congratulations my old friend, you're finally getting married, it's right about time"

Saya wasn't pleased about any of this, I should watch him closely, in case he tries to sabotage the wedding.

I spent the following days preparing for the wedding, amid a flurry of activity, and a shower of congratulations, and wishes for a happy life from the people, the wahans, and the daekans. I saw my father when we went to the fortress of fire to ask for his blessing. He seemed particularly pleased with my match and welcomed him by heaping praises, and speaking highly of him. But when he mentioned my mother, I broke. I wish she was here with me at this time, it's a tough thing for a girl to get married without having her mother around, fussing about with the dress and the preparations.

Just a day before the wedding, I realized I was right about saya's intention in sabotaging my marriage. I was in my chamber getting my gown measurements for the last time, just in case something needs to be fixed before tomorrow. Saya loitered about not helping with anything in particular, all he did was make my blood boil. I was done with my gown, and sat before two large boxes of jewellery at my disposal, to choose from. I took a pair of dangly earrings, with a green precious stone in the centre. I was about to try it on, when saya handed me another pair of silver and sapphire blue earrings “this would go better with your gown" I tried it on and it looked perfect, he really has an eye for these stuff.

I admired the glistering jewels in the mirror, when saya's hands slid over my shoulders, kneading them “why do you want to marry that world-weary old man all of a sudden? Do you really love him?” he sneered close to my ears, giving me the shivers. I stood up and moved towards the balcony, taking my time to regain my composure, I answered with my back turned to him “yes, I love him. He has shown me nothing but kindness since I arrived here"

He tightened his arms around my waist “and what about me?” his voice cracked, is he jealous??

“I'm sorry, I don’t feel that way about you" I uttered flatly. When I turned to look him in the face, he was flushed, his lips trembled with the ghost of unspoken words, my words must’ve stung him deeply. He leaned forward, invading all body space, a dark look passed his face “does he feel the same way about you? Knowing you have cursed his brother, his only family, to death?” my hand instinctively flew to slap him across the cheek. His mad laugh echoed through the empty chamber. A moment later the dark look in his eyes softened, and he seemed to be on the verge of tears, when he clutched my hand and rubbed against the red mark on his cheek. When he spoke this time, his speech was frenzied, I realized how desperate he was to stop this marriage “it's not too late to change your mind, marry me instead , we'll take down taealha and tagon, and rule this land as king and queen. I have a better change of succeeding the throne as tagon’s son. What can that lowly warrior of a minority tribe give you that I can't?”

I couldn’t take it anymore, I pushed him away “saya, plea..se please leave, I need to rest, I have a long day ahead of me tomorrow”

I cried myself to sleep that night, part of me felt sorry for saya, and another part longed to be reunited with eunseom again.

My royal blue wedding gown greeted me first thing in the morning, I put it on with the help of four obliging priestesses. It's long sleeves satin sleeves, were veiled with a layer of delicate, thin lace. The lace covered the upper part of the gown, ending around my waist, where the velvety satire flowed all the way to the bottom.

Saya handpicked the fabrics and had it tailored for me. Speaking of saya, he waltzed in while I was busy wearing my jewellery, appearing to be oddly cheerful. He didn’t seem to have a chip in the shoulder about what happened last night. Not to mention the color of his attire matched mine, in fact our entire attires seemed to be designed for a couple. His royal blue attire was matched with a golden brocade giving him a regal look, he was always fashionable, but I couldn’t help but feel he was overdressed for a wedding that wasn’t his.

“you look beautiful” he chirped “and you'll be mine soon" his weren’t moving but I heard the last part loud and clear, because they were his thoughts. My heart lurched, has he done something to the wahans or mubaek?

The abruptness of my movement, knocked my chair over as I stood up “what are you up to?” I spat out.

“Why do you mean?” his fake friendly smile unsettled me. “niruha?” mubaek’s head peeked through the door, I heaved a sigh of relief “yes?” I tried to force a smile.

“It's time" he announced, crossing the room in a couple of strides. Saya looked between us both smirked, and took his leave.

“What's wrong?” he asked once saya was out of our way. “I think saya is up to something, ‘you'll be mine soon’ those were his thoughts. He wants me, I’m worried he'll either try to harm you or my people to get to what he wants. So before we go, I want to cast a protection spell on you”

“a protection spell?” “yes, it's just something my mother used to do when I was a child, I’m not sure if it's effective, but do you mind if I try it?”

“No I don't mind, if it puts your mind at ease" I took both his hands in mine “our great mother asa sin, the great white wolf. I tanya of wahan your direct descendant implore you with a heart rendered heavy with worry to protect this man from all evil that may befall him.

May all swords trained at his neck turn to ash

May all arrows aiming his way lose their path

May all eyes spying on him be cursed blind

May fear be instilled into the hearts of his enemies at his sight

And may all schemes of betrayal against him turn on their schemer

When I call this man my husband I tie his fate to mine" I released his hands, and slipped on my cashmere cloak, the ceremony was about to begin.

We ascended the podium hand in hand, determination burned in our eyes. I raised our interlocked hands above our heads, the crowd roared with shouts of respect and admiration. The people loved me, and now I had mubaek by my side, tagon your reign of chaos is coming to an end, on my hands.

[viktor-noctis]

Harvest Moon

Anakin Skywalker wanted to kill everyone in the room. And then himself.

Even if they didn’t know who he was, because the chance they might find out was too terrifying to consider.

But they hadn’t. He knew they hadn’t. Because if they had, they would all have died of laughter before he could slice them into little pieces with his lightsaber. Which he didn’t have.

This night just keeps getting better and better.

He had completed well over two-hundred missions since he joined the Jedi Order, from escorting diplomats, brokering peace between nations, and fighting on battlefields the galaxy over. He had traversed forests full of dangerous, man-eating flora, ice cloaked mountains with beasts that could rip one apart in seconds, and even desserts. Full of sand. Which he believed was far eviler than the worms waiting beneath the surface of the dunes, ready to swallow one whole, or any of the previous threats combined. He would take any of them, all of them, even a dustbowl, over his current assignment.

On paper, it looked standard: use secured invitation to get inside of a party of ambassadors, senators, and potential members of the Separatists. Easy. Sneak past heavily armored centurion guards wielding plasma canons and ion missiles that may or may not have heat seeker technology embedded in them. Interesting, without a weapon, but not impossible. Find information regarding the movements of enemy shipments, containing stolen kyber crystals, and potential hostages of their side. Somewhat difficult… If one didn’t possess an encrypted pass code, capable of rapid copying the necessary data in record time. All-in-all, the usual kind of Jedi mission that included a bit of espionage on the side.

Except the teeny, tiny, minute detail of the invitation being formatted for a Lady Skylar Erie.

A woman from a small, noble house on Naboo. She was twenty-two years old, six feet tall exactly, and didn’t speak due to a childhood incident. Her hair was a light brown with touches of golden blond, possessing eyes the color of dark turquoise gems, and skin bronzed by the sun. Lady Skyler had full, dark lips, now shaded to a deep crimson, and high cheekbones. Her shoulders were broad, her legs long, and –

“Luckily,” the stylist had smiled at him in the mirror, “handsome young men make beautiful women.” Obi-Wan didn’t look like he agreed with that statement. His arms were crossed, eyes wide beneath his furrowed brow, and lips pursed within his beard… which he was stroking. Which meant he was looking for something comforting to say. Anakin was almost curious what sort of backwards, reorganized Yoda-phrase he would use, no doubt intended to distract him from that fact that he made a passable woman in a pinch. His former master opened and closed his mouth several times, forming nothing, and eventually just let a burst of air out behind his sealed lips. Which was probably the wisest thing he could have done.

The dress was another monstrous affair. The fact that Padma had been the one to gift the pattern to the tailor made him want to jump off the nearest bridge. Because that meant it was from Naboo, which was notorious for having so many hard to navigate layers, it was like trying to solve a puzzle maze. He’d overheat and die. Either that, or it would be a flowing slip of silk that would immediately give away the fact he was a man, and he could already see the billboard tagline all over the tabloid side of the holonet.

A form fitted, off the shoulder, obsidian gown arrived. There was a deep cerulean, satin sash that wrapped around the top, no doubt to hide his lack of cleavage, and draped down to curl over the low arches of his hips, falling down his buttocks like a tail. The entire thing was accented with ivory stones across the top, coiling in abstract patterns down his ribs, growing smaller till they faded at his thighs. Made from the finest silks, the whole thing had been custom fitted for him a week before.

“It’s a shame you want to destroy it.” Obi-Wan’s voice held six feet worth of lamentation that Anakin was ready to bury him in. “It’s rather beautiful.” One look from Anakin had shut him up for the entire evening. He had his word that when they made it back to the Temple, he was allowed to slice it to pieces with his saber until it was nothing but a smoldering, crumpled ruin of unidentifiable cloth and cracked stones. He was also not to take a single holo of him in it, no matter how much Senator Amidala plead or bargained.

However, he had quickly realized that the most dangerous part of his mission didn’t entail trying not to fall flat on his face while wearing three inch heels (how Padme managed the ‘dagger stilettoes’ that were over five he would never know, but he was going to bow down on his knees the next time he saw her), nor glaring at the men who gave his backside leering glances (he just about managed not to Force push that last one’s face straight into the buffet table), or even punching the last piece of kriffing, snorg-birthed, moose-goose snot brained –

I hate this, I hate this, I hatethis, IhatethisIhatethisIhatethis –

He almost tore his dress. Again.

No, the most dangerous part of his mission was none of the above. It was navigating the toxic snake pit filled with people he knew almost nothing about. Oh, some of them he had seen, certainly: thieves, murderers, drug dealers, and slave traders. They were up to their ears in nothing but filth and injustice, the lowest of the low, scum that he had to smile and play nice with like a mute, pretty girl with only three brain cells to her name would.

Anakin’s face hadn’t stopped burning the whole evening. He only prayed his embarrassment couldn’t melt away the layers of foundation and contour applied to his features. She’d even combed and fixed his hair, plating the strands into a short braid with ribbon that matched his dress, and flowers that curled into the elaborate cuffs around his ears. He hated the jewelry almost as much as the gown… the dainty chains in his lobes had snow drops on the ends, bearing sapphires so deep they appeared onyx. The choker around his neck was emblazoned with them as well, with diamonds that offset the ones on the dress.

He had to wear gloves. To cover up his mechanical arm, as if it were something to be ashamed of. Anakin managed to contain a growl, keeping his fan close to the lower portion of his face. He didn’t dare lower it, least someone find his jaw too strong, his neck too thick.

How can anyone believe this? Maybe everyone around him thought it was just as ludicrous, just as impossible that Anakin Skywalker liked to spend his Tuesday evenings dressed as a woman, strutting around some of the worst moss-pit vipers in the galaxy. He swallowed what remained of his pride.

Get the information. Get out. You’ve done this a thousand times before. Never like this he hadn’t.

He had the advantage of his height at least, his gaze straying over the facades in attendance, knowing his mark would favor a more private location. The mask they had given him was just insult to injury… It covered everything above his cheekbones, wrapping over the bridge of his nose. Carved from delicate ivory, with swirls and coils painted on in black at the top, fading to midnight blue around his eyes, and then a rich silver at the edges. The top of the brow split in a mane of feathers, mimicking the shades already present. According to Obi-Wan, it was meant to represent a delicate, blue bird found on a planet covered mostly in water in the furthermost reaches.

Anakin almost felt relieved when he saw his target in the throng of dignitaries. His mask wasn’t strapped on like his own was, dangling from his right hand, while his left arm remained occupied by a Togruta girl with red skin and yellow horns. He really did not need to be thinking of Ahsoka right now. What would she say if she could see him? She’d never stop talking about it. She’d probably sneak a holo or two just to save for future blackmailing purposes, because what sane Padawan would pass up the opportunity to have a picture of their Master all dressed up for the ball?

The man in question, with more gold than white or black in his mouth, was one Fren Pollock. After obtaining a hard-won pardon from the Republic – something that made Anakin’s teeth grind – he had somehow acquired a governorship on a small lunar colony. Drugs, munitions, and people, nothing was beneath him. Anakin found himself reveling in the notion of bringing him down, of dismantling his little empire into the dust, and taking all of his accomplices with him.

“Woah there, blondie.” A bodyguard. One of four. No armor, no weapons, as was the standard, per the request of the hosts.

[ I’m really terrible at writing scum bags, but Fren allows Anakin closer, only to drug him. Someone intervenes, of course, but after unmasking Anakin things go from bad to worse. Also, Dooku wears a Loth-wolf mask. - ]

“I believe the young Lady has had enough.” Anakin’s stomach dropped. He couldn’t breathe. His next whimper was stifled against a hard chest. Hands, warm and solid, one on his wrist, and the other on his back. Protective, almost tender, they held him steady against the taller man.

 The chuckle that emanated from the Count tightened around his chest. The air left him, slipping free in a low, hoarse whimper. Dooku just laughed harder. Anakin didn’t dare raise his head to see the slice of his grin through his cheeks.

“My, my, this evening is just full of surprises.” Dooku’s sneer rippled through his already weak knees. They shuddered beneath him, leaving him to sway dangerously. “I didn’t expect to find you here, Skywalker, but considering this turn of events, I’m rather glad I did.” Red and blue. Anakin’s teeth clenched, jaw ringing with the pain, straight into his temples. He should jerk forward, smash his head into Dooku’s nose. Crimson and azure. Their sabers should clash, they always had, easy and familiar. Darkness and light, trading breath and edge, till one consumed the other. Mars and Venus. Planetoids too far to know, yet the tales of them were wreathed in the fantastical. The coin flipped, came down in a shower of sparks that were the shades of stars.

Dooku tasted like something bitter and yet sweet. It reminded Anakin of the grapes Padme had given him while they were visiting Alderaan, off a vine five years old. She said they were native to the planet, that they would keep the same fruits without dropping them for hundreds of years, but when they were plucked clean… they died. Those same plants were the reason the planet was known for its wine. She had challenged him to taste as many as he could, all the way up to the first century. They made his nose wrinkle, his vision darkening as his eyes squinted, then misted with tears he blinked away. He didn’t even get to twenty.

He still had the gift… the one Bail Organa had given him. He had winked at him, saying something about how even Jedi needed to have fun every once in a while. The crystal, ruby embossed bottle was hidden somewhere under his bunk, protected by his worn, old Padawan robes. He still didn’t know how a beverage made from fruit as old as Yoda was supposed to be a good.

“What are you doing?!” His head throbbed. His parted lips trembled, prickling with something he couldn’t name. Anakin’s cheeks were still burning, but a new heat had been added from the friction of the Count’s beard. Dooku’s hand gripped his bicep, the muscle throbbing beneath his hard palm. Anakin could feel the bruises forming, the pulse of blood beneath the surface. He’d torn away, smashing him into the wall, and he had… he had kissed Count Dooku, a known Sith Lord, and leader of the Separatist Systems Alliance. A tremble lanced through him, clinging to his muscles, till he felt as if he were going to shake straight out of his skin.

Anakin’s head twisted, turning away from Dooku, but his body wouldn’t follow as easily. His tongue clung to the roof of his mouth, thick with the ichor of whatever had been in his drink. He swallowed it back, trying to free himself of the Count’s hand with a sluggish, surly throw of his shoulder. He stumbled instead, pivoting dangerously close to the wall, but durasteel bands took hold of his waist. His body jerked, a whimper exiting his lungs as they compressed. The darkness crept into his vision, stifling him in the heat and musk of whoever held him.

“What have you done?” Far away, harsh and whispered. The syllables grated against his scorching ears. His throat ached with the sound that left him, high-pitched and terrible. His mouth contacted something solid and warm and smooth. He couldn’t help but rub his face into the warmth of that broad shoulder. Whoever held him smelled like heat and spice.

Padme and Obi-Wan sat across from him, laughing as his face twisted. He had grown up a poor boy on Tatooine, you didn’t just waste food, no matter how much you didn’t like it. Which meant swallowing down whatever you were given, which meant he was willing to try anything once. Even the boiled bark of a strange planet. It was not the taste, but the brittle texture on his tongue. Citrus and tang, almost metallic in its bite, sliding down his throat with the same viscosity of honey, and the viciousness of alcohol.

That was the smell that surrounded him now, sharp and distinct. There was something overtop, layered on to smooth the undercurrent of that wild, intoxicating aroma. Anakin almost thought it was… roses. Yes, roses. Extravagant and sweet, enough to hide the Loth-wolf’s true scent.

[ Dooku makes a strategic retreat, taking Anakin with him back to his room… Mistake. The drug is in him now, and inhibition is taking a nosedive straight into hell. He puts Anakin in his room, where he struggles out of the dress, tearing off the jewelry, and rubs at his face. The Count returns after a thunderous crash, effectively shattering every bottle in his private bar. Not good… He returns to the room, submerged in darkness, standing at the end of the bed… ]

Anakin trembled beneath his own pride.

The moonlight splayed over his shoulders, weaving through his white hair, curving over the hard edges of the right side of his face. His eyes, cheeks, lips, chin, his entire face lost to the shadows. Anakin could see nothing of him, but he could imagine the furrow of his brow, the pull of his mouth into that familiar sneer. Or would his cheeks ripple with a snarl? He almost wished he could see him, the revulsion of his features, the cruel amusement preferable to the void that stared back at him.

He could feel something though, intangible as the Force, but as palpable as its presence. Dooku’s gaze. Those hard, dark orbs, piercing his bunched shoulders, his heaving chest, the tremble of his stomach.

He lost.

“Please…”

[ And this is as far as I got because I’m terrible. I’m not tagging this much either, because its a WIP. ]

[sunriserose1023]

Deep Blue, Painted Golden {2}

WORD COUNT: 2304 WARNINGS: Modern AU, angsty, getting drunk, flirting CHAPTER SUMMARY: Peggy convinces you to get out of the house, not knowing a chance meeting will change your life. 

Masterlist

“You’ve got to get out of this house.”

Your eyes were wide when you turned to face your cousin. Peggy shook her head, arms crossed over her chest. You blinked and Peggy sighed. 

“There’s a little pub down the road that we can—“ “No.”

Peggy raised an eyebrow. 

“Go get dressed.” “Peg—“ “This is a new stipulation of mine. If you stay with me, we must go visit the pub.”

You narrowed your eyes before you sighed. 

“Peggy.” “Don’t ‘Peggy’ me. What will it hurt? Go get dressed. Throw a cap on or something. I don’t care. You’ve got to get out of this house and have some human interaction.” “I can’t interact with other humans. They all think they know me and they all want something from me.” “Not here.”

You let your head fall back, shifting on the couch. 

“I have fans in London, Peggy.” “Yes, I know. But the people around here … they don’t get starstruck. Did you know that Brad and Angelina used to stay here when they were still together?” “That’s not true.” “It is! I saw them at the pub once or twice.”

You sighed, chewing on your bottom lip. Peggy sighed, walking over and sitting beside you, laying a hand on your knee. 

“What will it hurt?” “No one knows I’m here and I’d really like to keep it that way.” “Absolutely no one knows that you’re here?”

You nodded. 

“Not the press, not even Sharon.”

Peggy raised her eyebrows. 

“Your sister doesn’t even know that you’re here?”

You shook your head. 

“I had to get away. I … I felt like I was drowning. I called you and hopped on the plane.”

Peggy nodded, moving her hand to hold yours. 

“You know you can always come to me. But I really need to get out of this house. As much as I love your cooking, I need greasy fried chips and a glass of wine.”

You smiled, then sighed. 

“Okay. Let me find a hat or something.”

Peggy gave an excited squeal and you laughed, crawling off her couch and heading for your room. 

Steve ducked his head as he followed Bucky and Wanda into the pub. They were huddled together, Wanda’s arm linked with Bucky’s, and he kept leaning in closer to hear what she was whispering to him. Steve felt like a major third wheel, and he slipped his hands in his pockets as he looked around. 

The pub was crowded, but not overrun with people. No one was paying him much attention, something that he was savoring. He enjoyed his fame, but there was something freeing about no one knowing—or at least not caring—who he was.

He nodded his thanks to Bucky when a pint of beer was pressed into his hand, and Steve smiled as he took a sip, then leaned his back against the bar. 

“Pardon me, can I step by you?”

Steve moved to let a dark-haired woman lean over the bar, lifting his head and doing a slow double-take when he saw a woman trying to blend into the background. She was gorgeous, hiding behind a beret-like hat on her head and a chunky scarf around her neck. She seemed familiar for some reason, and Steve took another sip of his beer, smiling when her eyes met his and widened. 

“If I can offer a piece of advice?”

Steve looked back to the dark-haired woman with her attention on the bartender. She looked to him, a demure smile on her painted red lips. 

“Don’t bother.”

Steve raised an eyebrow and she kept that smile. 

“She’s not looking for any sort of male companionship tonight.” “My apologies.” “Don’t worry about it. Just trying to save everyone the heartache.”

Steve had an amused smile on his face when he took another drink. 

“Maybe next time.”

The woman laughed, taking two martini glasses with neon green liquid in her hands. 

“I doubt it, but keep that optimistic streak. You’ll go far with it.”

Steve laughed, nodding to her as she walked back to her friend. Steve took a long drink from his beer, unable to keep his eyes off the woman with the sad eyes, claiming a booth in the far corner with her dark-haired companion. 

You shook your head, laughing out loud at … whatever it was Peggy had just said. You couldn’t remember what it was, but you knew it was something funny. You leaned back in the booth, smiling at her, laughing again when she snorted before she laughed. 

When you’d calmed down and took a sip from the beer she’d gotten you, Peggy leaned forward. 

“Did you know that tall man by the bar has been watching you all night?”

You nodded, swallowing the drink you’d taken. 

“I’m not going to lie. He’s pretty.”

Peggy snorted again, sending the two of you into fits of giggles. She tapped her nails on the table, then pointed at you. 

“You should go talk to him while you get us another round.”

You glanced towards the bar, then shook your head. 

“I’m not looking for anyone right now. God knows I need to be single for a while.” “Or maybe God is sending you a nice little present all wrapped up in a bow.”

Peggy glanced over her shoulder, then shook her head. 

“He’s American.” “Oh, really?” “Mm-hmm. The few words we said to each other, I could tell he was a filthy Yank.”

You laughed, leaning over and patting her arm. She pushed her empty bottle towards you and you groaned as you climbed out of the booth. You made your way to the bar, nodding and smiling at people before you let your arms rest on the bar. 

“I was wondering if you’d ignore me all night.”

You slid your eyes to the left, where the man who’d been watching you was leaning against the bar. You leaned over, speaking in a stage whisper. 

“Contrary to popular belief, I wasn’t paying you that much attention.”

He gave a soft laugh, and you let yourself look at him fully. He was … beautiful. Tall, with dark stubble dusting his cheeks and chin, thick muscles barely contained in his almost ridiculously tight shirt. But it was his eyes that had your attention. The bluest blue was staring back at you, smile lines beside his eyes only making him more attractive. 

“Like what you see, doll?”

You couldn’t stop the snort. 

“‘Doll?’ Are you kidding me right now?”

He started to open his mouth and you laughed, shaking your head.

“Next thing I know, you’ll be calling me a dame or something.”

He winced as he shook his head, taking a sip of his beer. You rolled your eyes. 

“You’re lucky you’re cute, because you’re not the greatest at talking to women.” “You think I’m cute?”

You felt your cheeks warm and you shook your head. He gave a soft laugh, leaning closer to you. 

“I’m Steve.”

You met his eyes, blinking in surprise when it seemed like he honestly didn’t know what your name was. You swallowed, speaking as low as he had. 

“Y/N.” “Nice to meet you.” “You, too.” “Can I buy you a drink?”

You blinked, feeling your head swim. You gave him a smile, leaning closer. 

“I really don’t need another. Don’t tell my cousin, but when she sent me to get us another round, it was always my plan to get us some water.”

Steve gave a quiet laugh. 

“Your secret’s safe with me, doll.”

You shook your head. 

“‘Doll.’ Like I’m a toy. Some little plaything for you.” “Or something pretty and fragile.”

You turned to meet his blue eyes again. 

“Something to be put on display, where everyone can see.”

Steve shook his head, leaning closer to you. 

“Rogers!”

He blew out his breath, glancing over his shoulder. He nodded, turning back to you. 

“Sorry, my friend—“ “It’s okay. It was nice to meet you, Steve.”

You held out a hand and he took your hand in his, bringing it to his lips and kissing your knuckles. You sucked in a breath as he winked at you, letting your hand go as he stepped away, into the crowd. You felt your chest heave with every breath you took, your hand tingling where his lips had touched. You turned around and went back to the bar, shaking your head and gathering your things. Peggy shook her head, reaching out for you. 

“Darling, what is it? Are you alright?” “I want to go. Can we go?”

Peggy nodded, gathering her things and ushering you out into the cool night air. 

Steve kept his hands in his pockets, absently kicking a rock down the sidewalk, ignoring Bucky and Wanda making out beside him. He couldn’t get your face out of his mind, still couldn’t shake the desire to take you in his arms and hold you until that haunted look left your pretty eyes. 

“You do know who you were talking to at the bar, right?”

Steve lifted his head, looking over to Wanda. She had her arms around Bucky, her chin resting on his chest as he held her, his head dipping to nip at her neck. Steve shrugged his shoulders, shaking his head. 

“She said her name was Y/N.”

Wanda smiled. 

“Yeah, Y/N Carter. Only the biggest pop star in the entire universe.”

Bucky lifted his head, shaking it to get Wanda’s hair out of his face. 

“Wait, seriously?”

Steve blinked and Bucky gave a laugh. 

“Damn, son. Nice.”

Steve shook his head and Bucky squeezed Wanda’s sides. 

“Let’s take a bet. How long’s it going to be before we hear the song she writes about him?” “I don’t know, from what I heard, she’s still hung up on that guy from that band. You remember the one?”

Bucky nodded. 

“The Guardians of the Galaxy. Despite the lame-ass name, they’re not as awful as they could be.”

Steve shook his head and Bucky rolled his eyes. 

“Stevie’s stuck in the past when it comes to music. Anything after 1975, he’s iffy on.”

Wanda laughed, taking hold of Bucky’s jacket and pulling him in to kiss him again. Steve lifted his head and gave a breath of relief. 

“Here’s our cab. Thank God.”

Peggy shook her head, taking another sip from her glass of water before pointing at you. 

“Drink it down.” “I’m working on it.” “You don’t have to eat anything, but drink the water. You’ll thank me tomorrow.” “I’m working on it.”

Peggy rolled her eyes, taking another drink. She set her glass in the sink and walked to you, taking hold of your chin and kissing your cheek. 

“Don’t wake me before nine tomorrow or I’ll have to kill you.” “I’m not planning on being awake myself before noon.” “See, this is why I love you.”

You giggled, swatting Peggy’s ass as she made her way down the hall to her bedroom. As soon as she was gone, you pulled your phone from your pocket, pulling up the internet app. You wiggled your head for a moment, then rolled your eyes, typing “Steve Rogers” into the Google search bar. 

Your eyes widened as you saw the many images that popped up, articles galore. You clicked on one article, reading about how he was a Heisman trophy winner, first round draft pick, quarterback for the New York Avengers football team, where he’d led them to the championship game seven different times, winning five of those times. He was just a few years older than you, a mainstay on People magazine’s Sexiest Man Alive list, and as all of the articles you clicked on made a point to announce, he was single. 

You tapped your phone against your hand, lifting it again to flip through the Google images, eyes widening when you saw a shot of him in just his football pants, laughing out loud and feeling your cheeks flush when you ran across a photo of a younger version of him apparently modeling Calvin Klein underwear. You bit your lip, unable to keep the smile from your face. 

The smile faded when you thought of how easy it would be to make a call and have all of his information laid at your feet. You could be texting him right now. All you’d have to do is call your sister. 

You set your phone on the kitchen counter, glancing out the window of Peggy’s little breakfast nook. The moon was high in the sky and you glanced up at it, slowly exhaling as you crossed your arms over your chest. 

You weren’t looking for anything. You had a long line of disastrous relationships you were trying to move past, men you thought you’d be able to build a life with, but in the end, all they wanted was either the notoriety of being with you or for you to cower behind them and build them up. How did you know Steve wasn’t just like all the rest of them?

You couldn’t say for sure, but there was something about him, something that sparked in your heart the first time you looked in his eyes, something that told you he was different than the rest. And knowing that, you also knew you had a choice here. You could pursue him the way you always had, by literally having your people contact his people, or you could let it happen organically, where if you ran into him again, you could talk, and if not, oh well. 

You looked back up at the moon and closed your eyes, giving in to the little girl inside and making a wish. You blinked your eyes open and smiled, nodding your head as you walked towards your bedroom, humming a melody you’d just thought of.

TAGS: @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan​, @bluemindblacksoul​, @maraudingmarauder​, @ivoryhazlewood​, @capsiclesdoll​, @aspiring-fangirls-world​, @stonyiscanon​, @shhhs3cret​, @beardburnsupersoldiers​, @thefanficfaerie​, @patzammit​, @free2bmee​, @buckybarneshairpullingkink​, @isaxhorror​, @paige-sais-rawr​, @theunofficialduke​, @mizzzpink​​, @sea040561​​, @nerdy-bookworm-1998​​, @unapologeticallymimi​​, @queenoftrash97​​, @xxashy999xx​​, @ishirogersworld​​, @whimsicalatbest​, @aletteredaffair​, @melodiclovesong​, @chrisevansgirl​

[marril96]

The Distance Between Us

Chapter 26: The Queen of Hearts Can’t Have Mine

Pairing: Rowena x reader

Summary: You and Rowena talk things through.

Editor: @miss-moon-guardian

*****

Despite the initial difficulties, the first day back in school had gone surprisingly well.

Your friends had no issues with Rowena, talking and having fun as if they weren't hanging out with a former mean girl. Crowley was his usual dramatic self, more annoying than malicious, and Dean behaved. It was clear he didn't like being around her, but he was civil.

You'd asked for nothing more.

He didn't have to be her friend. He didn't have to like her. But he didn't have to be mean, either.

Sam, Meg, and Castiel had acted as if she were always part of the group.

At one point, Castiel had attempted to apologize for his brother being an asshole, only for Rowena to hold up her hand and stop him mid sentence. He owed her nothing, she'd said. She'd wanted no pity. He'd responded with a mod.

Fair was fair.

Though, you could tell she appreciated the effort. Not many people cared about her, about what she'd gone through. It was odd to see some that did. Unnatural even. She wasn't used to it.

She'd better get used to it, you'd thought. Because she wasn't alone now — would never be alone again, just as you'd promised — and she would, sooner or later, learn what true friendship was. You and your friends — her friends now — would teach her.

Ms. Hanscum had brought back the midterms, all diligently graded. While Rowena was doing hers in the corner, no doubt acing it because she was Rowena MacLeod and that was what she did, the teacher had handed out the graded exams and rambled on about everyone's scores.

You'd gotten a C+.

Rowena had outdone herself.

Were it not for her, you had no doubt you would have failed it.

So, as the bell rang to end the class, the two of you had waited for everyone to leave the classroom before asking Ms. Hanscum if your tutoring arrangement could extend to this semester.

She happily agreed.

Anything to help her students.

The woman loved her job way too much.

On your way out, she'd offered you a donut, which, as usual, you'd taken and Rowena had declined. Which hadn't stopped her from poking fun at you, but what else was new?

"Wonderland, after school," she'd said as you'd nibbled on your treat.

You'd looked at her, lips stained with chocolate, powdered sugar framing your mouth. You must have looked like a clown.

Her expression had told you that you had.

"What?"

"Wonderland. It's a wee tea bar. We can go there to talk."

"Tea bar?" You knew those words separately, but together they'd made no sense.

"It's a bar. Where they only serve tea," Rowena had explained as if you were stupid.

Which, to be fair, you'd kind of felt.

"Okay," you'd allowed, despite it not being okay. Nothing about this had been okay.

You weren't ready to talk to her. Weren't ready to bare your soul, to expose the truth that had taken you yourself a while to accept. But, at the same time, you'd owed her an explanation.

So here you were.

At the Wonderland tea bar.

The place was small and looked ridiculously cute. There were lots of pastel colors on the walls; paintings, furniture, decorations. Doilies that looked homemade covered every free surface. The chairs were comfortable, doily-covered tables clean and neat, carved out of fine food.

It was as if you'd stepped inside a dollhouse.

There was one waitress slash bartender, an older lady whom you'd suspected of being the owner. Out of seven available tables, only one was occupied.

It was a lone place. Hidden in an alley people rarely went to, between two brick houses you were pretty sure were either abandoned or being — hopelessly — put up for sale.

You could tell why Rowena liked it.

There were no people to pry. No peers to butt in like in Biggerson's. No wandering eyes and foul tongues. No Lucifer and Olivette sitting a few tables away and laughing their nasty asses off.

Just peace and quiet. Solemn. Welcome.

"You come here a lot?" you asked as you took your seats in the far back corner, just to be safe. A conversation like this, you needed utmost privacy.

"When I need alone time," Rowena said. "Quite cosy, isn't it?"

"Yeah. It's really nice."

Too nice for the conversation you were about to have.

Somehow it felt wrong to bring up taking advantage of your friend — your drunk, hurting friend — while surrounded by pink and mint walls and cute little doilies.

What if you started to argue?

What if tears flew like a downpour?

What if everything went wrong and, instead of discussing what had happened in a calm, civil matter, you erupted into a shouting match and were not-quite-politely asked to leave?

That sort of thing would have, at the very least, been expected at Biggerson's. A place full of hormonal teenagers was bound to have a fight at one point — had, in fact, had a few.

You and Rowena were unpredictable. You worked well together, but sometimes emotions ran too high and you both exploded, unable to contain them. It was just the way you were.

You hoped that wouldn't be the case this time.

"I'll have my usual, please," Rowena said when the waitress came to take your orders.

Not sure what to order, you said, "I'll have what she's having."

After all, it was just tea.

How bad could it be?

"They have the best Scottish tea in America," she said once the waitress was gone.

Guess you would see.

If Rowena loved it, it couldn't possibly be terrible. The girl had an exquisite taste. Only the best for her little ass.

You waited for the tea in silence, and as soon as it arrived, Rowena spoke up, "So. Talk."

You stiffened. Your heart pummeled, slammed against your chest almost to the point of pain. You took a sip of your tea, the bittersweet taste melting your insides, clearing your constricted throat. "I-I'm sorry."

She raised an eyebrow. "You're starting with an apology?"

What else should you have started with?

After what you'd done, how you'd behaved, there was nothing you could do but apologize.

Shrugging, you said. "I owe you that, don't I?"

"Fair," she conceded.

"I'm sorry for ignoring you. It was a shitty thing to do."

"I'd say so." You flinched as if struck (which surely would have hurt less), and her expression softened. "Why did you do it? Surely, as friends—" the word came out in a purr, the look in her eyes devilish, teasing "—we could have sorted it out."

Why was she acting so nonchalant about it?

Wasn't she bothered by being taken advantage of?

"I know. I just… I couldn't face you after what I did."

That made her pause. "What is it you think you did?"

She didn't know?

Really?

Was she messing with you? Baiting you to see if you would take responsibility?

"I took advantage of you." The words were bitter on your tongue. Foul. Filthy. You wanted to wash your mouth out with soap.

Rowena blinked. One time. Two. Three. She stared as if you'd suddenly grown a second head with pointed horns and snake eyes.

"Are you joking?" she asked, a nervous smile playing on her mouth. Her face was a mask of confusion, of bafflement, eyes narrowed into suspicious slits.

You swallowed a lump that had formed in your throat. Gulped down some more tea. Looked sideways, up, down — anywhere but at her.

She paled. "You're serious."

You gave a nod. A small one, barely noticeable. Your fingers tightened around the tea mug as if it were an anchor, as if letting go would make you lose your balance and your body would crumple into a pile of dust.

Of course you were serious.

You'd never been more serious about anything in your life.

Why was she looking at you as if she didn't believe you?

Did she think you would forget about it and act as if nothing had ever happened?

That wasn't you. Would never be you.

You loved her — respected her, cherished her — too much to do that to her.

To anyone, but especially her.

You would never do anything to harm her. Not in your sane, conscious mind. Not on purpose.

You'd allowed alcohol to get the better of you and you needed to own up to it like a woman.

"Y/N, dear," Rowena said, choosing her words carefully, "when, exactly, did this taking advantage of me occur?"

It was your time to blink in confusion.

Was she serious?

"New Year."

Something unreadable crossed her face. "I see."

"I'm really, really sorry." Tears pricked at your eyes like needles, staining them red as her hair. "I was drunk. Which is no excuse! I just — I didn't mean to do it."

A short silence, then, "Huh."

Just that.

Huh.

Surprised. Uncertain. Disbelieving.

Of you?

Of your apology?

You couldn't tell.

All you knew was, she didn't believe you.

A nice way of saying she most likely thought you a filthy liar unworthy of her time.

If that were the case, you didn't blame her.

There were times you wished you could get out of your skin and get away from yourself, too.

Rowena cleared her throat. Sucked in a breath. Gulped. "So you took advantage of me while drunk? Am I getting this right?"

Shit.

Shit, shit, shit.

She was mad.

She had to be mad.

"Yeah," you said meekly, avoiding her eyes.

"What—" a cough, a feigned one, "—what makes you think that?"

What was she playing at?

"What do you mean?"

"You're telling me you took advantage of me," she said as if she were speaking to a child, a slow, careful string of words. "I want to know why you think that's what you did."

Was she pulling your leg?

"Because I did."

She was in pain.

She was drunk.

She'd flirted with you, and you'd kissed her despite knowing it was wrong. All because you wanted her. Because the scotch you'd filled your blood with had to told you it was okay, that it was a victimless crime.

It wasn't.

Rowena was vulnerable, and, instead of being her friend, you'd taken advantage of her.

"Did you? You are one hundred percent sure that is what happened?"

"I already told you—"

"Aye," she cut you off. "You did. Pardon me. I am just… confused by your version of events."

You said nothing. Offered no commentary, no further elaborations. Just sat, frozen in place, holding onto your mug as of your life depended on it.

"I don't understand why you think you took advantage of me."

What?

What did she mean, she didn't understand?

Had she actually blocked the memory out?

"I-I kissed you," you stammered.

"You did," she confirmed, amused.

"You were drunk."

"I was."

"It was wrong."

"It wasn't."

You forced yourself to look at her. To lock your eyes with hers, those fierce, intense greens staring right back as if in a challenge.

"Rowena…"

What did she mean, it wasn't wrong?

Was this one of her little games, a remnant of her mean girl days?

Was she testing you?

Or — this was something you hadn't yet considered, something that hadn't occurred to you for you were busy hating yourself — was she genuinely clueless?

Rowena was a tease by nature. A spicy little firecracker. What if she'd flirted, not because she was drunk out of her mind and hurting, but because she was interested?

What if she wanted you as much as you wanted her?

No. No way!

A girl like Rowena, classy, high end, could never be interested in a nobody like you.

It wasn't possible.

Things like that didn't happen.

"I…"

"I wanted you to kiss me," Rowena said. "If you hadn't gone for it, I would have."

Your cheeks were on fire. A storm raged in your stomach, twisted and turned, a tornado that rummaged you from the inside out. You were suddenly queasy, lightheaded. You tried to take a sip of tea, but your hands were shaking and you kept them on the table, gripping the mug, terrified you would drop it.

"B-but…"

The words you wanted to say — the few of them you could remember for your mind was a jumbled mess — froze in your constricting throat. You struggled to breathe, struggled to think, struggled to sit here and act as if everything was normal.

As if Rowena hadn't said she wanted you to kiss her.

It was easier in your daydreams. So much less complicated. She would say you were the woman of her dreams, you would gasp and start crying, and then you would start making out as if there was no tomorrow. Sometimes she would confess her undying love for you in dramatic fashion worthy of a Broadway play. Sometimes she would fall on her knees, or ask you to run away with her, or take you to her car so you could be the Bonnie to her Clyde and you would ride into the sunset, guns blazing, police sirens blaring.

Neither scenario ended with you choking to death on your own words or spontaneously combusting from your nerves firing into overdrive.

And yet, here you were.

Rowena watched you, amused by your reaction because of course she was. "But?"

You gulped. Swallowed a thick lump that had formed at the back of your throat. "Y-you were hurting. I didn't… I…" Breathe, you reminded yourself. Just breathe. In and out. "You'd just broken up with Lucifer. A-and all that other stuff happened. I thought you…"

"What? That I was on a rebound?"

Spoken like that, the words stung.

You nodded.

"I can assure you, I was not."

Your heart jumped. Slammed against your chest, over and over, like a hammer.

"What happened was still fresh," Rowena admitted, "but that's not why I flirted with you." A smile, small, beautiful, blossomed on her mouth. "I like you, Y/N. Not as a replacement for Lucifer." She spat his name as if it were filth on her tongue. "I like you for you."

She liked you.

Jesus Christ in heaven and hell and everything in-between, she liked you!

She fucking liked you!

All this time you'd been hating yourself, wishing you'd never kissed her, only to find out she'd wanted you to.

She truly, genuinely wanted you to.

Not to get over Lucifer.

Not to forget the drama that had unfolded in the school hall.

Not to make the pain of her bruises wane.

Not because she was drunk, or because you were drunk and couldn't control yourself.

Rowena MacLeod had flirted with you and had wanted you to kiss her because she liked you.

This wasn't a dream you would wake up from anytime now.

It wasn't a fantasy that would break with the snap of her perfectly manicured fingers.

It was real; as real as your feelings, as the frantic beats of your heart. As the tea you were nursing, and the table you were sitting at, and the waitress that was staring at her phone, bored out of her mind.

All of it was real.

Good god, all of it was real!

And, of course, in true you fashion, you had to make a fool of yourself by asking, "Why?"

Rowena raised a perfectly groomed eyebrow. "Beg pardon?"

"Why me?"

"Why not?"

Because you were a mess.

Because there wasn't much you could offer her other than yourself.

You cleared your throat. "You're into girls?"

"I'm bisexual," she said. "I've a preference for boys, but I am very much into girls as well."

Oh.

Okay.

That made sense.

Gathering up the remnants of your courage, you said, "I like you, too. I guess."

She narrowed her eyes, confused. Having — painfully obviously — expected a different response. "You guess?"

"I…"

I love you.

More than anything.

More than life itself.

But…

What if something happened?

What if one of you said or did the wrong thing and everything fell apart?

What if admitting you loved her led to you losing her?

What if—

"I can't do this!" It slipped out before you could try to stop it. An instinct, a flight-or-fight response you couldn't control.

It was too much.

All of this was too much!

"Y/N?" Rowena said, voice soft, concerned from the depth of her soul.

"I can't-I can't lose you."

There.

It was out now.

Why were you still struggling to breathe?

Why did your throat still feel as if it were being crushed, as if a hand, strong, meaty, were holding it in an iron grip?

Why did your heart jump around as it it were about to explode?

Why was your body betraying you?

"You aren't going to lose me," Rowena assured you. Looked you straight in the eyes as she uttered the words to make it clear she meant every single one. "Why in hell would you think that?"

Because you knew how things like this went.

Friends became lovers, then something happened — one of them said something stupid or did something bad, irreparable — and it broke them apart, and they were gone from each other's lives for good.

You didn't want the same fate to befall you and Rowena.

Losing her would crush you. Would break you more than being so close yet so far away did.

"It happens," you said. "Friends become more than friends, and everything goes to hell." You snapped your fingers. "Just like that."

Rowena wasn't fazed by your explanation. "It doesn't have to."

"It does."

"Not all the time."

"Enough to count."

She sighed. "Goodness, lass!"

You were being ridiculous — you knew you were. But you couldn't help it. Couldn't fight it for it was stronger than you, almost like an instinct taking hold of you, of your body, of every nerve and cell that contained you.

You loved her.

You wanted her.

Yet, despite all that, you didn't dare touch her.

She'd all but offered herself up on the silver platter, and you were too afraid, too damn terrified to even look at her.

You were a coward!

A pathetic, disgusting coward.

If it meant keeping her, you told yourself, so be it. You could live with that.

It didn't make it hurt — didn't make you hate yourself — any less.

"Nothing has to happen," Rowena added, "if you don't want it to. We can still be friends."

It pained her to say it — you could see it on her face — but she still flashed a smile for you, one of those beautiful ones that made butterflies roil in your stomach. Her hand gently fell over yours. You released the mug, allowed her fingers to wrap around yours, to lock them in a gentle knot.

The touch sent a jolt of electricity through you. Your hand was numb under it, skin burning under the warmth she radiated, the softness, the protection.

Home.

She felt like home.

You wanted it to happen.

You wanted everything to happen.

You wanted to kiss her again. Wanted to wrap your arms around her and never let her go. Wanted to shout from the rooftops that she was yours, that you loved her from the bottom of your soul for the whole damn world to hear.

At the same time, you were scared. Various scenarios flashed through your head, each ending with you and Rowena in tears. Hearts broken. Friendship — what remained of it — shattered, never to be repaired. Lives forced to part.

There were so many ways in which this — whatever it was for you didn't dare put a label in it — could end badly.

And, you admitted, however horrible the hold the fear had on you, just as many ways in which it could end well.

Thinking of it rationally, you had no reason to be scared. The attraction was mutual, the feelings strong enough to be more than simply friendly. Rowena was a good friend, a loyal one. Patient. Kind. She'd shown you sides of her no one — not even her brother — knew. She trusted you with her vulnerabilities, with her weaknesses as much as she did with her strengths. She'd allowed you to know her — to truly know her, bare soul and all.

She wouldn't have told you how she felt if it wasn't real.

And you — god, you loved her! You loved her more than you'd ever loved anyone. More than you loved your friends. It was a different kind of love; a deeper one, more profound. The kind forged in the depths of the heart, in the core of the soul.

It was the kind of love that made you fear the mere thought of losing it.

You knew you were overreacting. There was no reason you and Rowena wouldn't work as a couple. You were both stubborn as mules and strived to get your way, but that was one of the ways you worked so well together. You completed each other. Uplifted each other. Had each other's back. You chose each other when the world tried to keep you apart and rose from the ashes stronger, closer.

You would work.

Just as you'd worked as friends.

Maybe even better.

"I…" Once again the words refused to come out, as if someone had stuffed your throat with cardboard. "I want…"

You.

I want you.

You could say it, you told yourself. It was just three words. Three small, simple words.

I want you.

It wasn't difficult.

Just three words.

I want you.

I love you.

"I…"

Tears spilled from your eyes, a bitter river that bit at your cheeks. Your heart thrummed, wild, out of control. Breaths quickened. Head spun as if you were drunk again.

This was too much.

You couldn't do it.

Couldn't take it.

It was too damn much!

"I'm sorry." You forced the words out, willed the remnants of your strength into pushing then out.

And then you were out the door.

*****

Tags: @werewolfbarbie @oswinthestrange @songofthecagedmoose @apurdyfulmind @getthesalt-sam @metallihca @salembitchtrials @jay-eris @hellsmother @elizabeth-effie @victoriasagittariablack @rowenaswife @wonderifshelikesroses @xfireandsin @liddell-alien @hotdiggitydammit @lae-lae @darkhumorsblog @gaysnakess @angel7376 @cherrypierowena @ruthieconnells @evil-regal-vampiress @collectorofsecretsandsouls @angel-e-v-a @tasyahilker @a-queen-and-her-throne @carryon-doctor-lock

[tanirath]

Remember to Hate You

A story written by its3am

Original on Ao3

Notes:

Slight AsraxJulian, Slight ValdemarxOC, LucioxMC, the third chapter contains explicit content

italics are flashbacks

You can read the first chapter here

Chapter Two

It was as it was when she was among the tribes. They would have to be aware of their surroundings of course, there could be danger, or an opportunity for food, and they had to be alert at all times for either. It was the eerie feeling that she was being stalked, watched, as if she were prey. She tried not to show her fear, focused on walking faster to get to her room. Click. Click. Click. Footsteps to her left. She didn’t dare look, she wasn’t even properly clothed! She took off, sprinting toward her room when- “I beg your pardon” An unsettling voice cut through the air as her body collided with someone directly in front of her. Stifling a scream, she looked up to see- Red eyes staring widely down at her, a mask now covering their mouth, hiding the unsettling set of sharp teeth. “Sorry-“ Athenia gasped, backing away and fixing her eyes on her door up ahead. She walked around them and scurried to her door, looking back once more to see glowing red eyes staring right through her. She shut the door firmly, then locked it. She dropped her clothes onto a nearby chest, hung her towels on the doorknob and climbed into bed, heart still racing. She was hoping to be relaxed after her bath, but it’s only seemed to put her on edge. She closed her eyes and focused on her breathing. In, out, in out. In. Out.

The sun was shining brightly through the gauzy curtains, its golden light filling the room with warmth. A knock sounded on the door. “It’s me!” Portia called out in a singsong voice, “I have your breakfast!” Athenia scrambled out of bed, wrapping herself in a sheet before unlocking the door and opening it just a little bit. Portia’s smiling face greeted her on the other side. She couldn’t help but smile as she opened the door, allowing her to bring the tray of pastries inside. “Perfect day for a par-tay!” She said enthusiastically, wiggling her hips a bit. “Are you excited?” Athenia couldn’t help but be a little excited, Portia’s positive energy was certainly contagious. “Yeah, I need to get home first though-“ she began. “Nah, I have the perfect outfit for you, don’t you worry. Just relax! It’ll take all day to get you home and back again.” Portia reasoned. She was right. Athenia sighed in defeat before plucking a scone from the tray. Portia waved goodbye and slipped out into the hallway, closing the door behind her.

It was almost time for the party. Portia had brought her a stunning dress, the color matched her skin tone perfectly, the gold accents and tulle made her feel like a princess. She couldn’t help but smile when she peered at herself in the mirror after slipping it on. She pulled her hair up into a loose, elegant bun. Curls fell from the sides, framing her delicate features. She rubbed her lips together, rubbed her fingers over her cheeks as to even out the rouge that Portia had let her use while they started to get ready together – before Portia was whisked off to the kitchens to assist with bringing out the food. She took a deep breath before turning away from the mirror, opening the door ever so slightly to peek out into the hallway. The sound of the music could be heard from the ballroom, a faint whisper as if a dream. She stepped out into the empty hall and followed the delicate rhythm to the party that awaited her.

Satchel at her side, she breathed the warm air that she was starting to grow accustom to. She’d been in town for a week and it was already starting to feel like home. She made her way among the crowd to the coliseum, not quite sure that she would be prepared for the show that awaited her. She’d planned to leave after scoping out the Count that she was hearing so much about. The dust seemed to kick up under the hundreds of feet that moved excitedly in the same direction, the vibrant colors of their clothing, both the rich and the poor, like a rainbow river streaming into the coliseum. She could make out whispering in languages she didn’t know along with the common tongue, the city’s inhabitants’ anticipation was palpable in the thick summer air. Once arrived, she carefully found a place to sit, she didn’t know any of the faces that surrounded her. She looked around the stands for someone familiar, picking out the baker’s plump face, the same face that she went to for her sweet bread. Only this time he wasn’t beaming like he usually was, his expression stoic, as if he didn’t want to be there. Scanning, she spotted Dr. Julian Devorak chatting with someone with white fluffy hair, tanned skin, clothed in ethereal colors and a mystical glow to match. Dr. Devorak seemed mesmerized by his company, and wasn’t paying attention to anything else around him. His partner, however, was scanning the scene with a furrowed brow before settling on the speakers box that waited vacantly for it’s announcer to arrive. The minutes seemed to drag on forever, as the moments passed the crowd became more and more rowdy, voices shouting across to each other in various tones, a chorus of chaos. After it couldn’t possibly become any louder, the crowd went silent, the air stilled eerily as everyone turned their heads to the announcement box. Her gaze followed the rest, eyes settling on flashy red velvets, glittering accents of gold, pale skin that reflected like the moon itself, and an unmistakable blonde head of hair. The coward himself, Montag Morgasson.

Ball gowns swirled as the music played, the dancers skillfully stepping and turning in unison as if they were toy ballerinas in a jewelry box. She scanned the room, taking in the glamour of the party, everything was just a touch over the top from the clothing, the gold décor, the red carpets that lined the floor with their shimmering tassels. The buffet table shining under the glittering decorations that she and Julian had meticulously placed earlier. There was a certain magic in the air, a shimmer above her amongst the decorations that wasn’t there before… the magician, perhaps. It was like a fairytale. She looked down at her own dress, tracing her fingertips over the elegant patterns that adorned the silk, the netting of the tulle that lay underneath. “Athenia!” A voice called, she looked up to see Julian approaching her, dressed in finery as the other gentlemen in attendance. She smiled. “Hey, when did you get here?” She asked him, wondering if she had missed anything important. “Well I got dressed then came back out to finish setting up.” He said softly, cheeks turning pink. She happened to glance behind him, her eyes settling on a breathtaking watercolor swoosh of silk, fluffy white hair and gleaming shoes sparkling even more than the floor itself. Julian hurriedly glanced behind him to look at what she was seeing just as the magician caught her gaze and waved. Julian turned back to her, face scarlet. “I’m going to go check out the garden!” He said anxiously, his voice an octave higher than usual. “I hear it’s all lit up-“ And with that he scurried off in the opposite direction of the rest of the party.

The masquerade began without a hitch, guests had arrived and were enjoying the rooms, dressed up and fragrant with the scent of the most delicious food and drink imaginable. White roses in crystal vases the centerpiece of each pristine table, set to look as if it were straight from a painting. The night continued as she sipped her bubbly and observed the crowd. Everyone seemed to be having a good time, even as the hour grew later and later. She had greeted acquaintances, explored the bubble room as well as the winter room that had reminded her far too much of her roots, and was now wandering around the garden with some of the party goers that were trying to catch their breath before heading back in for more dancing. The fountain glimmered at the edge of the hedge maze, she made her way over and seated herself at the fountain’s edge, taking a sip of her champagne and gazing into the swirling depths of water, lit by an array of colored lights. She could hear happy voices around her, glasses tinkling together as the guests made cheers to this and that. Breathing in the early autumn night air, she closed her eyes. Everything felt right. Breaking through the quiet chatter of the crowd was a whining, familiar voice. Her eyes snapped open as she willed herself to disappear. Not tonight, she thought. This was supposed to be a good time. She came out to see the masquerade, sure, she had been planning all week for her outfit, the matching mask. But she was also celebrating, as Dr. Devorak had finally noticed her talents and asked her to come on to the clinic staff full time. She was thrilled, and knew it would be a stepping stone to greater things to come. This was her night.

She found herself wandering out to the garden, sparkling red wine in hand. She strolled leisurely out into the cool air, the chill of winter barely registering in her mind after spending years in the cold southern region. The night was refreshing, perfect for a celebration. Glittering lights like stars seemed to shimmer mere feet over her head wherever she wandered, she was sure it was the magician’s magic that was responsible for the finishing touches, making the whole party’s atmosphere seem almost ethereal. She wandered around the bouquets of white roses, noting the flowing fountain of red wine that the Countess had mentioned earlier, placed on a beautiful table alight with faerie lights delicately glowing on the table, artfully circling the fountain and cascading down the table’s legs in angelic swirls. Conversation seemed to pick up at the entrance as a small crowd spilled out into the garden, the lit area suddenly becoming alive with the buzz of excited party goers. A woman giggled, a man seemed to be recalling a most impressive story – surely fabricated for the enjoyment of the onlookers, another woman cooed. Men laughed and clinked their glasses in celebration. Athenia filled her glass with more wine from the fountain and glanced behind her to see what all the hubbub was about, her relaxed features tensing as soon as her eyes landed on a single figure, smiling arrogantly as his eyes flitted over the women fawning over him, desperate for his attention.

She peered over her left shoulder as blonde hair flashed into view, contrasted by the usual bright red of the fine silks and satins, a velvet cape to match. She rolled her eyes as she saw his perfect face, it disgusted her. She still couldn’t understand how such a man had become the Count of Vesuvia. What were the odds that he would magically be in the same place that she ended up, the same place she decided to start a new life, away from her past? But of course he would. He was an awful man and awful men tend to ruin things. She was glaring in his direction, noting the pout of his lips, the bratty expression on his face, when his light eyes darted in her direction. Breath escaped her lungs as he held eye contact for a long, miserable moment, a flash of some unrecognizable emotion flittering through his expression. Surprise? Disgust? He didn’t even know who she was. He never paid her any mind. She averted her eyes as soon as her senses came to her, standing to walk in the other direction, the long way around the hedge maze to make her way back to the safety of the crowded party.

As if he could sense her presence, his smile dropped as his gaze darted upwards in her direction. She was already full of such rage, such loathing that she had to make an effort to change the unpleasant scowl that was etched into her pretty features. Try as she may, she couldn’t bring herself to be pleasant toward this man. Instead she turned her back to him as if she never saw him, downed the glass of wine and fixed her eyes on the doorway, walking defiantly past the crowd that surrounded him. The music hardly reached her ears as she stormed back into the Palace, trying to hide her displeasure. What an arrogant ass. Cowardly little brat of a man child. She hated his stupid pretty face. He didn’t deserve it, if only he was as ugly on the outside as he was on the inside then people would treat him how he deserved. He was disgusting, a monster. Her daze was broken by Julian waving excitedly at her, cheeks pink and eyes glazed. No doubt the result of too much wine. “Atheniaaaaa daaance with meeee-“ He sang, before twirling off. She laughed, following him into the crowd of dancers. She needed something to take her mind off things. The song ended and the next one began, a more upbeat tempo, a cheerful melody that would certainly refocus her attention on trying to keep her footing. One hand in Julian’s and another on his shoulder, he twirled her around the dance floor like he’d had years to practice for this day, he never lost footing as he guided her in elegant circles around and around the room. She smiled broadly as she realized that they were attracting attention from the other dancers, some of them began whistling and cheering as Julian skillfully spun her like a little ballerina. She looked up at him, his eyes closed in concentration, an easy smile on his lips. He was certainly a skilled dancer. The song ended and Julian dipped her low, her head mere inches from the shining floor before effortlessly pulling her back upright again, eliciting applause from a few people nearby. “You’re amazing!” Athenia said, laughing at Julian’s proud expression. “No, youuuu-!” He slurred, swaying and sashaying over to the buffet table. Athenia shook her head and laughed, taking a look at the couples who have once again congregated on the dance floor for a significantly slower dance that had just begun. The lights went low as the music played, shining specks of glitter hovered overhead in the air as if the stars were just within reach. She swayed with the tune, a hauntingly beautiful yet melancholy number, as the couples before her grasped each other and swayed like bright flowers in a summertime breeze. A cool breeze swept through the room, gentle and refreshing. She hummed along to the tune as she munched on a brownie with colorful swirled frosting. She swallowed the treat and spun around, feeling eyes on her. She saw nothing out of the ordinary as she looked around the room, of course there would be people looking at her. This was a party after all, and she was dressed in a ball gown fit for a princess. She smiled and plucked another brownie from the picturesque display, popping the bite sized treat into her mouth.

She cursed him as she walked through the dancers, brow furrowed in frustration. He didn’t deserve to be Count. He didn’t deserve to be loved, didn’t even deserve to be hated. He deserved to be no one, forgotten, alone. But he wasn’t. He was loved as well as hated here, his stupid perfect skin, stupid perfect hair, his pretty features clouded her mind as her footsteps became heavier as she made her way across the floor toward the buffet table. She needed another drink to scrub his face from her mind. She was finishing her second glass of champagne since returning to the party as the air changed behind her. She turned cautiously to see the dancers moving, as if they were the red sea parting for someone of utmost importance. A dramatic swish of red and blonde could be seen through the crowd as the Count made his way through the party and toward the stairs to his hall. The music continued, but softer as his whining voice could be heard throughout the ballroom, complaining about his complexion and the late hour, prior to making his way up the carpeted stairway to retire to his bedchamber. She sighed in disgust, secretly hoping that he woke up with wrinkles, black circles, and maybe an extra 50 pounds to round out that disgustingly perfect waistline of his. Athenia downed another champagne and headed out to the carriage to make her way back home, unable to enjoy herself after suffering through having to see his face and hear his voice. She shuddered, remembering the way his gaze landed on her in the garden. He certainly couldn’t recognize her. There was no way.

A hand on the small of her back startled her out of her trance as strong hands circled around her waist, grasping her hand, pulling her onto the floor. Dizzied, she followed lead, wondering when Julian was going to head to bed. Her head buzzed pleasantly, the taste of the sweet wine on her tongue. “How long are you going to hide from me, pet?” A smooth voice whispered in her ear, rocking her back and forth to the music. A shiver ran down her spine, cold as ice as she looked up into the frustratingly pretty face of none other than Montag himself. Her jaw dropped and she stiffened, unable to move away or think or run. He smiled charismatically down at her, still gripping her hand in a delicate yet firm grasp, his hand on her waist sending shockwaves through her distressed body. “You-“ she began, a low growl.

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You can read the third chapter here

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Athenia belongs to me

[blackcatkita]

Love and Honor

Liam x MC (Jennifer)

Set in Italy during Liam and Madeleine’s engagement tour, this one shot covers a few requests. “Who unintentionally rips the other’s heart apart?” from an OTP asks list, some lines (in bold) from an angst prompt list, requested by @endlessly-searching-for-you  and also serves as my (very late) submission for @choices-september-challenge day 16- Heartbreak. Word Count- 3678. My masterlist can be found in my bio.

Obligatory Disclaimer- I do not own these characters, that honor belongs to Pixelberry Studios, I’m just playing with them. 

Warning: Story contains unwanted advances of a sexual nature and sexual assault. It doesn’t go further than lewd comments and groping, but it may be difficult for some readers.

My perma tag list is at the end, if you would like to be added (or removed) all you have to do is let me know! I hope you enjoy this look into Jennifer and Liam’s past and if you do, like, comment or reblog! I appreciate every single note!

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Love and Honor

 Inside the Italian hotel’s ballroom, Jennifer sat with her friends at their designated table with her hands in her lap, gently rolling the pearl Liam gave her the night before between her fingers, her gaze trained on the front of the room where Madeleine was leaning in to kiss Liam on the cheek. Unable to stomach seeing that again, Jennifer quickly averted her eyes to the untouched bowl of vanilla gelato in front of her as her hands balled into fists under the table, her nails pressing half moon indentations into her palms. It should be me… she thought as morbid curiosity made her look at them again, just in time to see the shadow of a grimace dust Liam’s features before he forced himself to grin. At least she hoped it was forced, sometimes it was hard to tell.

Stolen time and dreams of a happy life together were the only things getting them through this damn engagement. Every moment they spent together made them fall deeper in love, made them that much more determined to fight for each other and she believed Liam when he said he loved her and only her, when he promised they would root out their enemies and live happily ever after. But that didn’t make it any easier to watch him with her. It was never going to get easier, she had been delusional to think otherwise.

His engagement to Madeleine was all pretend, she knew that, just a show to buy them time, but every time she saw that bitch with her paws on Liam it was like a slap in the face. Jennifer wanted to scream, or cry, or run up to the front of the room and grab Madeleine by her stupid blond hair while she shouted to the room that they were in love. But she couldn’t, she was the court whore after all. The one who broke the beloved King’s heart by having an illicit affair. It didn’t matter that Liam and their friends knew the truth, as far as the rest of the country was concerned she was Hester Prynne. Might as well paint a big red “A" on her chest and call it a day.

“Lady Jennifer, compose yourself.” Bertrand scolded sharply from across the table while Jennifer glowered at Madeleine feeding Liam a spoonful of her gelato at the front of the room. He didn’t even like strawberry. “Lady Jennifer!” Bertrand repeated a little more loudly.

“What?” She asked, whipping her head around to face him.

“If you continue to glare at the King and Countess Madeleine, people will begin to notice. You need to control your emotions.” Bertrand instructed. “And for the love of God, if someone asks you to dance you would do well to accept this time. We need to keep up appearances.”

“Are you gonna eat that?” Maxwell asked, gesturing at Jennifer’s gelato. “Cause it’s melting and if you’re not...”

“Take it.” Jennifer rolled her eyes and pushed the bowl toward Maxwell, who immediately began shoveling it into his mouth. “I’ve lost my appetite anyway. And my emotions are perfectly controlled, thank you very much.”

“Uh…” Drake hummed, glancing between Jennifer and Bertrand. “I’m gonna have to go with Bertrand on this one. You were practically shaking, and you didn’t hear a word any of us said.”

“You guys were talking?” Jennifer’s widened eyes moved around the table and each of them nodded in response. “Sorry… I guess I wasn’t paying attention.”

“It’s alright Jennifer.” Hana smiled sweetly. At the front of the room, Liam stood up, bowing to Madeleine before he led her to the dance floor as the orchestra began playing a waltz. “We understand how upsetting this is for you. For all of us.”

“Yes, yes, quite upsetting.” Bertrand scowled. “But that doesn’t give you leave to act like a…”

“I’m getting a drink.” Jennifer stood from the table abruptly, cutting off Bertrand’s words. Whatever insult he was going to say, she didn’t want to hear it, not today. Turning away, she navigated through the crowd, reaching the far edge of the dance floor when she found herself face to face with Neville, Rashad, and an older man who, aside from his salt and pepper hair, looked almost exactly like Neville.

“Ah! Lady Jennifer!” Neville exclaimed a bit too loudly, his arms open in welcome. “I had hoped I would run into you. May I present my father, Lord Richard Van Couer, Earl of Cormery Isle.”

Placing her hand into Lord Richard’s outstretched one, Jennifer dropped into a short curtsey. “Your Excellency, I am pleased to make your acquaintance.”

Lord Richard bowed, his eyes never leaving hers and brought her hand to his lips to press a lingering kiss to her knuckles. “I assure you my lady, the pleasure is all mine. It is not everyday that I am introduced to such an alluring creature.” Still holding tightly to Jennifer’s hand, he winked, licking his lips as he stood up straight. “Would you honor me with a dance?” He smirked arrogantly and led her onto the dance floor, not bothering to wait for an answer. “That is, if you know how to waltz…”

“I do.” She replied harshly as he looped his arm around her waist and pulled her tight against him. “Though I don’t recall saying I would Lord Richard.”

“Ah but your reputation precedes you kitten.” Licking his lips again, he grasped her hand and clutched it to his chest. “Any woman willing to spread her legs for that Tariq fellow would jump at the chance of a more favorable arrangement.”

“I beg your pardon?” Her heart raced, cheeks flushed hot with anger and embarrassment and she stepped back as his hold on her waist tightened, pulling her back to him.

“No need to be coy Jennifer, I applaud the use of your… assets.” Leaning back slightly with his hips pressed to hers, his eyes travelled down her body and up again. “And what assets they are. You would make a dead man’s dick rise.”

“How dare you?!” She gasped, pressing her palms against his shoulders to no avail. “I am in no way interested in any ‘arrangement’ with you, sexual or otherwise!”

“Come now Lady Jennifer, you and I both know a woman of your character should hardly be refusing the favor of her betters. But I understand you wanting something in return…” He sneered and bit his lip, trailing his finger across her collarbone before leaning down to whisper in her ear. “What can I do to make you sleep with me?” His hand slid slowly down her back and over her ass before stopping to cup her cheek, making her yelp in shock when he squeezed it roughly. “I promise I can make you scream.”

Panicked, Jennifer’s gaze fell to Liam, staring at her and the Earl from less than ten feet away while Madeleine spoke to staff member beside him. He stood at the edge of the dance floor quivering in anger with his hands balled tightly into fists and his face contorted in barely contained rage. Jennifer stared back, her pleading eyes begging him to do something, anything, but he just stood there, watching. She shot him a venomous look before turning away and she reached back, gripping Richard’s wrist as tightly as she could to pull his hand off her backside. “Touch me again and I’ll cut your bloody balls off.” She seethed, stepping back.

“Playing hard to get, are we?” Lord Richard winked, reaching for her again as Rashad approached from the crowd.

“May I cut in?” Rashad asked with a warm smile.

“By all means, everyone should get a turn.” Lord Richard laughed, releasing his hold on Jennifer before taking her hand. “Think about what I said, I can make it worth your while.”

“Never.” She seethed through clenched teeth as she tore her hand from his grasp.

“I do like them feisty.” Richard chuckled, winking at Rashad before walking away.

Rashad watched the Earl abscond through the crowd before turning to Jennifer, his shoulders rising and falling in a heavy sigh. “We don’t have to dance, you just looked like you needed an assist.”

“I did.” Jennifer nodded. “I can’t thank you enough Lord Rashad, he was… quite aggressive.”

“Please, just Rashad is fine.” He smiled softly. “Lady Jennifer, I apologize for the Earl’s behavior, no woman should have to endure such things. Unfortunately, he has quite the reputation in regard to his treatment of women.” Reputation… there was that word again. Wrapping her arms around herself, her lip quivered, and she quickly tucked it between her teeth as her eyes began to water. She read the papers, she knew what people were whispering behind her back and it was only a matter of time before some asshole took liberties with her again. It was surprising this was the first time, and even if they found Tariq, would that change people’s minds?  “Will you be alright?” Rashad asked, placing his hand on her forearm. “You’re trembling.”

“Yes, I think so…” She nodded, sniffling as she turned to look at Liam again. His eyes softened as they locked with hers, both sets of blue glistening with unshed tears and he took a deep shaky breath, his shoulders sagging as he let it out slowly, “He didn’t do anything about it…” Jennifer whispered, her vision becoming more blurry as she watched Liam. She could see the conflict waring on his face and she knew he wanted to run to her, wanted to wrap her in his arms and carry her out of there, but he wouldn’t… she knew that too. “If you would excuse me Rashad, I need some air.” Not waiting for a response from her unexpected rescuer, Jennifer tore her gaze from Liam as tears spilled over and rolled down her cheeks.

She kept her head down as she moved through the crowd, as quickly as she could without drawing attention, desperate to escape before anyone saw she was crying. As she passed the table where her friends still sat, she saw Drake, concern written all over his face as he jumped up from his seat, calling her name and telling her to stop.

Not wanting them to see her cry, she ran the last few feet out of the ballroom and through the winding halls of the hotel with no idea where she was going. She needed to get out of there, away from the judging stares, away from Liam and his apologetic looks, away from all of it. She slowed her pace as she turned the corner, then quickened it again as her eyes fell on a set of glass double doors with the words ‘Giardino Privato’ displayed above. Night had fallen, but she could see the garden through the glass, softly lit by lanterns and she stepped out onto the stone promenade, inhaling the sweet, woodsy scent of the cypress and evergreen topiaries that lined the path.

The large fountain in front of her with horses spitting water around the base and the customary naked man on the top pedestal did little to calm her thundering heart and she continued past it further into the garden. Rounding a corner, she found a narrower path and followed it to a pergola, draped in vines and fairy lights. Wicker benches, complete with pillows sat beneath, each one flanked by lemon trees in stone pots. Hana had told her ‘secret areas’ were common in Italian gardens, this must be what she was talking about.

Parts of the incident flashed in her mind as she paced, her heels clicking loudly against the stone floor… the Earl’s sneering face, the way he bit his lip as he grabbed her ass, Liam’s jaw clenched so tight the muscle in his cheek was twitching but still not standing up for her… it made her blood boil. It wasn’t the first time in her life some douchebag groped her, but it was the first time she was made to feel like less than a person, like an object only good enough to spread her legs. Fury bubbled up inside her as heat flushed through her body and with her eyes shut tight, she drew in a huge breath, looked up at the sky and screamed in frustration to the heavens. It didn’t help in the slightest.

“Jennifer!” Drake shouted, running up out of breath, his eyes darting across the area frantically. His shoulders relaxed as he realized she was alone, and he crooked an eyebrow at her. “What the fuck Reilly? Why are you out here screaming like a banshee?”

“Not a good time Drake!” Jennifer shouted as her brows shot up and she raised her arms in indignation. “Just… leave me alone.” She added, turning away. Of course, Drake was the one to follow her when the only person she wanted to chase after her was Liam. Drake was probably at her heels the whole time, but she had been too pissed off to notice.

“You know I can’t do that… You’re obviously upset about something. One minute you were going for a drink and the next you were running out of the ballroom in tears… What happened?”

“Nothing.” She spat as she continued to pace. She couldn’t tell Drake what happened. If she did he would run back in there and kick Lord Richard Van Couer’s ass and she couldn’t let that happen. Despite being best friends with the King, Drake was already looked down on as the rough around the edges commoner and Earl Asshole was definitely the type who would ruin Drake’s life if he assaulted him. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Reilly…”

“It doesn’t concern you Drake!” She whirled around to face him, immediately regretting yelling at him when she saw the hurt in his eyes. “Look… I just wanted a moment where someone wasn’t breathing down my neck. None of this is your fault and I’m sorry I snapped at you, but I really do want to be alone… just for a little while okay?”

“Hey, I get it. But you know you can talk to me… I’ll always be here for you.” Jennifer nodded in response, swallowing hard against the lump in her throat as Drake looked away. “So, uh… yeah” He frowned, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’ll see you inside.” He added before walking away.

Jennifer watched him go, waiting until he was out of sight before slumping into one of the wicker benches. She knew how Drake felt about her, he loved her, or so it seemed. He was one of her best friends and she cared about him deeply, but she didn’t love him, she never would, not like she loved Liam. Her life would be so much easier if she did.

Leaning forward, she groaned as she hung her head in her hands, her long brown hair becoming curtains hiding her face. The last thing she wanted to do was go back in that ballroom and she didn’t want to go back to the train where she was sure to be cornered by someone, but she couldn’t stay here all night. Maybe she should get a room in the hotel and lock herself away until the court moved on to Paris. No, she couldn’t do that either, she had to go to Madeleine’s bachelorette party tomorrow. Talk about the world’s shittiest way to spend a Saturday night.

Moments later, she heard the click of dress shoes approaching tentatively, “When I said I wanted to be alone I meant for longer than five minutes Drake.”

“It’s… It’s not Drake.”

A quiet gasp escaped her lips and her head snapped up at the sound of his voice. Longing whispered through her as she gazed up at him, so handsome in his suit, his blond hair shining under the fairy lights. No matter how angry she was, she ached for him… to have his arms around her, to feel his lips on hers. Liam stepped closer, making her cheeks flush and her pulse quicken before she remembered she was angry, hurt, humiliated, and he abandoned her when she looked to him for help. Stopping in front of her, he reached out his hand to pull her to her feet and she narrowed her eyes at him, “What are you doing out here Liam? Shouldn’t you be with your fiancé?”

“I…” He gulped, dropping his hand as he took a step back. “I wanted to make sure you were alright.” Jennifer raised her eyebrow, her expression asking a question she didn’t speak. “You’re right… it was a foolish question. May I sit?” He asked, gesturing at the bench.

“Go ahead. I was just leaving.” She snapped as she stood and began to move past him. Liam quickly side-stepped, blocking her path. “Move.” She ordered, glaring up at him.

He drew himself up to his full height, straightening his spine and squaring his shoulders to become an immovable force. Jaw set, his eyes locked with hers in an intense stare down. “No.”

“So… this is it huh? You’re the King and I’m the subject who must do what the King wants?”

“You have never been my subject Jennifer and I have never treated you as such.”

“Then get out of my way.” Jennifer stepped to the side and Liam followed suit, continuing to block her path. “Dammit Liam! Let me go!”

“Not until we talk about this.”

“What is there to talk about? You made it quite clear that you are not willing to stand up for me. First at the coronation…” Liam’s nostrils flared as his brows drew together, forming a deep crease between them and she knew she hit a nerve, but she continued, unrelenting, unable to stop the words flowing from her mouth. “…and again tonight. You just stood there and watched while that wretched man had his hands all over me. While he said vile things to me about spreading my legs and making his dick rise. But, where were you? Standing only a few feet away with your fiancé, pretending to be the happy fucking couple while Rashad, a guy I barely know stepped in.”

“You act as though this is enjoyable for me!” Liam roared, raising his arms in frustration. “I assure you Jennifer, it is not. When I saw that… that worthless son of a bitch touch you, I felt nothing but rage. I wanted to beat him within an inch of his life, so badly even his mother wouldn’t recognize him. But I couldn’t, and it makes me sick!” Startled by his outburst, Jennifer gasped softly, and Liam took a deep breath, closing his eyes as he pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. He stayed that way, breathing steadily to compose himself before opening his eyes again, much calmer than he had been moments ago. “We have enemies Jennifer, powerful enemies and if they had seen me act on that rage it would have put you in danger. Everything I do, everything I say, is with your safety in mind. I will do whatever I must to keep you safe.” With a dejected sigh, Jennifer broke her gaze from his and looked down at the stone floor, chewing on her lower lip as tears filled her eyes. Liam reached up, his fingers trembling slightly as he tucked them beneath her chin, gently raising her face back to his. “Please my love… please try to understand.”

She looked into his bright blue eyes, soft and pleading, glittering with unshed tears as her own spilled down her cheeks. “I do understand Liam. I’m in love with an honorable man, who can’t defend my honor.” Liam drew in a slow breath as she stepped back, wiping the tears from her cheeks. Averting her gaze, her eyes fell on a rose bush just outside the pergola, reminding her of the one he gave her in the conservatory during the social season. They had been so naïve back then. Already in love, talking about the adorable children they would have and thinking they could have a future together, not knowing the plot against them was already in motion. “Do you ever think of me?” She asked, turning back to him. “At Applewood you told me you pictured me when you were with Madeleine, but do you ever think of me? Do you ever wonder what I’m doing or how it feels to see you with her?”

“There hasn’t been a day I didn’t think about you… about us.” Pausing to gather his thoughts, Liam took her hands in his, smiling softly when she didn’t pull away. “I know how difficult it is for you to see her and I together. But she means nothing to me, you know that. You are the woman I love. It’s always been you. It will always be you. I want to give you everything you desire, I want to place the world at your feet. I would give my very life for you Jennifer.”

“Just not your ring.” A snort sounded in the back of her throat as she shook her head.

Liam placed her arms around his neck before wrapping his around her waist, pulling her tight to his chest. “Don’t say that Love… we’re going to find Tariq and get our happily ever after.”

All of her worries and fears melted away as she snuggled into his embrace. Liam was her home, and nothing would change that… they belonged together, two separate souls that became one the moment they met. “I’ve heard the speech Liam you don’t need to repeat it.” She chuckled softly, looking into his eyes. He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to her lips before resting his forehead against hers.

“Please don’t give up on us Jennifer, even if I have to leave everything behind, we will be together. I promise you.”

“I’m just tired of everything working against us, but I won’t stop fighting for you. I promise.”

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[maartje-writes]

YOUR BEAUTY SAVED ME PT.8

The two men stood up proudly. "Yes, ma'am," they said in chorus. When they realised that for themselves, they looked at each other grumpily. "May I ask what your names are?" I asked. That would make it a bit more pleasant for me, instead of talking to everyone all the time, sir, madam and pardon. "But of course!" said the slender man. "Christoph, at your service, madam," said the slim man with a bow. I noticed he had a slight French accent. The little man stepped forward. "You can call me Philippe," he said, also with a slight bow. A bit old-fashioned names they were. But so were their clothes. So it could be that these statues were already very old. But I didn't dare ask right away. Getting straight to the point would perhaps a bit rude of me. "And madam, what may we call you," Philippe asked curiously. The other two servants also looked at me full of expectation. It was noticeable that they were clearly very interested in my coming to the castle. I am Y/N," I said with a friendly smile. I sincerely hoped that I would get along well with these 'people'. They might be my only friends here, since the master of the castle was literally a monster. The three statues also looked at me with a smile when I heard my name. "Well Mrs. Y/N," Christoph said. "We welcome you here and I hope we can be of service to you and to make your stay here as pleasant as possible". I nodded. "Thank you. If I may ask for something,' I started. "I'm actually very much in need of a shower and clean clothes," I said. That last part a little softer. It was a little embarrassed. I hadn't showered for a long time after this whole adventure had started. Miriam came straight to me. "But of course, child," she said happily. "This way". She grabbed me by the hand and took me with her. The two men looked at us and waved. That made me laugh a bit. While Miriam took me with her, I said 'Very sweet of you all, to welcome me with open arms. “Oh dear, that's not a problem at all. We do it with love. There haven't been many guests in years. Ow and next to that, the three of us are far from 'all of us'”, she chuckled. "Not?", I asked. Actually, that's what I meant by both of those things she said. Haven't had any more guests in years? How many years? And if she wasn't all of them, who else were there? The way she told it, there were a lot of them. We walked through a room that was meant to be a bedroom. At the end of it was another hallway. Jeez, it was all really big here. In the next room we entered was  lovely. There was also a big fireplace burning here. The room was a bit smaller than my bedroom. In the middle of it was a big tub. The hot water steamed off. I walked there and carefully let my fingertips slide into the warm water. The warm feeling gave me a shiver. "Isn't it warm enough?" Miriam asked worried when she saw me shivering. "Oh no, it's great. Thank you very much," I said. Over my shoulder I looked at her and gave her a smile to show that it was fine. She nodded. "Your clean clothes are in the closet. She pointed to the left wall of the room. There was almost exactly the same closet as the one in my room. Miriam left the room for some privacy. "If you need me, just shout," she said, and she closed the door behind her. I didn't know how to reach her in this big castle from here. She would never hear me anyway. I was about to take off my clothes when I heard a voice behind me. "Enjoy your bath” it said. With a jolt, I turned around. Where did that voice come from? I was sure I didn't see another person in the room when I walked in. "Who's there?" I asked, still looking around me. "Here," said the voice. And then I saw where the sound was coming from. In the back corner of the room was a big chair. A chair with a big face in the back. This was really crazy. But yes, on the other side. I kept seeing the craziest things for almost three days. So this could go with it. I walked up to the chair. "Hello," I said. "The chair looked kindly at me. "Sure you've never seen a talking chair before?" it said a little sarcastic. I shook my head. "Well, then, don't let me distract you too much from your bath," it said. "I'll turn around. He gave me a wink and with his little legs it wobbled half a turn, so his back was facing me now. "Um, thank you," I said, and I walked back to my bath, a bit perplexed. While I took a quick look at the chair and looked to see if there wasn't some other furniture secretly living in the room, I took off my clothes and stepped into the lovely warm water. Next to the bath was a small stool with a washcloth, a towel and on top of it a piece of soap. In peace and quiet I started to wash myself. It felt wonderful. It reminded me of home. I could sit in it for hours, until I started shivering, because the water was cooling down. I looked at my feet. Up and down I was wiggling my toes. Behind me the chair was gently singing a tune. Relaxed I sank backwards, deeper into the bath until it came to my lips. After what I think seemed like almost an hour, I climbed out of the bath. I was still warm, even though the water had cooled down a bit by now. I wrapped the towel around me and started to dry off in peace. With the towel wrapped around my body I walked to the closet, of which Miriam said I could find clean clothes. I opened the doors. In the closet there were small piles of clothes and on the hanger there were beautiful dresses. That seemed a bit inappropriate to me. Why should I get dressed up? I picked out a pile of clothes from the closet. It contained a white and pink blouse, a long grey skirt and underneath long black knee socks. I put on the stuff, made sure I left everything neat and said my goodbye to the chair. I walked into the hallway. Looking around a bit and wondered what I was going to do next. It was still quite early in the day. That meant that the beast was probably nowhere to be seen. I decided to investigate for myself here. To give myself a personal tour of my new stay. If this was it, I would have to know a bit of what I could do around here. The castle was huge, so I wouldn't have finished looking around for the time being. Being bored here was not an option. When I was wandering through the corridors, something wasn't right, but I couldn't put my finger on it. I looked around me thoroughly. And then I saw it. It was clean. The whole castle was clean and tidy. There was nowhere left to be seen dust or broken curtains hanging from the large windows, or pieces of glass lying on the ground. Was this the doing of the servants? Had they managed to clean everything in a couple of hours? That was crazy work and actually almost impossible. Why would they do that? Maybe because I was there guest now? That was actually quite possible. If I thought about it that way, I'd clean my room when guests came. And that's what my parents did when there were visitors. So maybe that's what they would have done. It made me much more comfortable. Just a short while ago I was walking through these hallways feeling like I had ended up in a horror scene. Now it was light and everything was nicely dressed up again. It was still very old, but it had regained its parental style. So I walked through a few corridors, peeked into some rooms and looked at paintings here and there. It had all remained so beautiful. The decor was old, classic, make it so nice and stylish. The gold had been brought back in many decorations. I walked up the stairs. Curious to see what else I would find. I had more and more fun in this. Maybe this place wouldn't be too bad. I got a curious of what that floor above me looked like. It was the last floor, but also the darkest. The cheerful feeling that was in my stomach suddenly disappeared very quickly. I was now at the top of the stairs with a sudden very lonely and scary feeling. I almost looked at a dead scene. Beautiful images had been smashed to the ground. Dark curtains hung in front of the windows to let no light through. Slowly I walked through the hall. Broken tables and broken stonework largely blocked my path. To my left hung a broken mirror. Probably the beast hated his reflection so much that... I sighed deeply. There was so much hatred and anger in the beast. Where did that come from? Sadness or maybe pain? I didn't know. And that's why I became more and more determined to find out. I stopped in front of a big door. It was a wooden door. The doorknob had a big animal head.  A little hesitantly I looked at it. Not that it would bite me if I touched it, but the sight of it made me very uncomfortable. I looked back again. No one was following me. Who knows, of course, someone from the housekeeping might come after me, to see if I was behaving or what I was doing. Perhaps the beast had ordered them to do so. And who knows, there might even be hidden enchanted furniture somewhere. They were hard to recognise. I put my hands around the doorknob. Its ironwork was cold. The big doors were very heavy, so I had to put a lot of force on them. Slowly the door opened.  As soon as it was ajar, I peeked inside. I also had to be sure that the beast wasn't in here. Then I would be in serious trouble. Who knows what he would do to me. It wouldn't be so rosy for me anymore. The first thing I noticed was that it was a lot lighter inside. I didn't see a figure moving or anything alive in the room as far as I could see from the position I was standing in. Furthermore I pulled open the door and entered the room. There I found an enormous chaos. Everything was torn to pieces or broken. Chairs, a table, sculptures and paintings. I could just tell by the broken wood in the right corner of the room, that there had been a bed. Now it was broken and collapsed. The mattress was still in there with some torn blankets. Red coloured blankets hung across the ceiling. They hung from the lamps and came down in torn strips. With one hand I pushed the cloth aside to look further. The room ended up like mine with large doors and windows leading to the balcony.  Only here the windows were broken and the doors were ripped out.  My eye fell on something that stood on a small stone table. It stood exactly in the middle of the doorway. Carefully I walked over.