#rocky hill castle

[ghostlytales]

A Ghost in the Room: The Haunted History of Rocky Hill Castle

Multiple spirits were said to have wandered this eerie Alabama estate, including one spectral figure who may have been caught on camera.

Though sadly no longer standing, Rocky Hill Castle was once one of the strangest and grandest pieces of architecture in Alabama. It was also known as one of the state’s most haunted locations.

Built between 1858 and 1861, Rocky Hill Castle was a plantation house built for James Edmonds Saunders to replace his previous home that had stood on the grounds since the 1820s. It is said that Saunders demolished his old dwelling and oversaw the construction of Rocky Hill Castle because he wanted a “grander dwelling.” Clearly, he accomplished his goal.

Built using a combination of Greek Revival and Italianate architecture, the interior of Rocky Hill boasted some of the most elaborate wood and plaster work in the state. Perhaps the most striking feature of the entire mansion, however, was the five-story Gothic Revival tower—complete with battlements—that connected to the house through a high stone wall with a dramatic Tudor arch. The octagonal tower reportedly housed Saunders’ slaves, and it is said that he stood on its top floor to shout out orders and survey his lands.

The architect or architects of Rocky Hill are unknown, but one of the best-known ghost stories surrounding the plantation—as told in Thirteen Alabama Ghosts and Jeffrey—claims that the house was built by a Frenchman, and Saunders had refused to pay his bill. Shortly thereafter, the architect died. His ghost then returned to haunt the estate, chipping away at the foundation in the cellar. As the story goes, the sounds of this ghostly hammering echoed from the lower levels of Rocky Hill for as long as the house stood.

After James Saunders died, ownership of Rocky Hill was passed through the family before ending in the hands of Dr. Dudley Saunders, James Edmonds Saunders’ grandson. The doctor did not stay long. According to local lore, he and his family abandoned the house in the 1920s, due to the ghostly activity that took place within its walls. One account tells of a frustrated Mrs. Saunders who demanded that if any spectral entities were present they should speak up or hold their peace. A phantom voice bellowed in her ear: “Madam, I’m right here!” The family is said to have packed up and fled within hours.

Rocky Hill slipped into a state of disrepair after the departure of the doctor and his family. Its final owner demolished the structure in 1961. Before the destruction, Alex Bush photographed Rocky Hill Castle in 1935, as part of the Historic American Buildings Survey. According to some observers, Bush’s photographs captured evidence of ghostly phenomena, including a fairly clear image of a man’s face and collared shirt.

Indeed, Rocky Hill had accumulated a wealth of spectral rumors long before the eerie photographs were taken. Stories circulated of a Lady in Blue who had come searching for her lost lover and was seen on the stairwell and in the wine cellar. Others reported the clanking of chains and the ghosts of Civil War soldiers. The house did serve as a hospital during the Civil War, and several Confederate soldiers were buried in the nearby Saunders family cemetery. A man who lived in a cabin near the house claimed to hear the mansion’s piano playing by itself, while other tales spoke of illicit slave trading and a secret tunnel that ran from the cellar of Rocky Hill Castle to the Tennessee River.

Whatever the truth of Rocky Hill’s ghostly past, today nothing remains. Visitors searching for the once-striking building will find only the packed earth of an empty field just a few miles from the tiny town of Courtland.

[mothmiso]

French Normandy (2) (3) (4) (5) by Eddy Sawaya

[asoiafreadthru]

A Game of Thrones, Tyrion III

Then he was above the towers, still inching his way upward.

Castle Black lay below him, etched in moonlight. You could see how stark and empty it was from up here; windowless keeps, crumbling walls, courtyards choked with broken stone.

Farther off, he could see the lights of Mole’s Town, the little village half a league south along the kingsroad, and here and there the bright glitter of moonlight on water where icy streams descended from the mountain heights to cut across the plains.

The rest of the world was a bleak emptiness of windswept hills and rocky fields spotted with snow.

[hometoursandotherstuff]

Magician Lance Burton's 2006 castle house in Henderson, NV is for sale. (I wonder if his Vegas residency is over.) The 6bd, 7ba, 14,756 sq ft home is for sale for $10m. It's way over the top, too.

I don't know why there are all of these outbuildings down here, but the main house is on top of a hill like a typical villain's castle. It looks like a manmade hill. 10.05 acre property.

Life size horse statue is probably included. The gray house and vast paved area is depressing. I remember this house, so it hasn't sold since I last posted it.

The living room offers a view of the desert, plus doors to the patio.

Above the living room there's a mezzanine. And, there's also a bar.

Narrow hallways lead to other rooms.

It has a very ornate 2 tier library.

Looks like there's another bar in this room.

Gee, this hall looks narrow.

There's an open sitting area above the dining room. This looks awfully tight for serving.

A large 2 story gourmet kitchen.

Lots of counter seating in the kitchen.

Oh, look. There's Lance's magic hat. It has its own little cubby.

Looks like there are halls all around the perimeter of the home.

And, the theater ropes indicate that we are near the home theater.

Nice vintage looking theater. It seats 8.

Very fancy home office. I wonder if that's an Area 51 sign in the next room.

Look at this rocky waterfall.

We've all seen large chess sets before, but these pieces light up.

This looks like a lounge where people can watch the chess game.

This is fun, you can patrol the castle and insult your approaching friends like Monty Python in "The Search for the Holy Grail."

Look at the canons below.

This white part of the house looks like an addition.

Indian maiden and eagle statue pointing at giraffe statues. This is weird.

A fence surrounds the property and this is a guard office at the gate. I can't tell if that's a real person or a mannequin inside the window.

https://www.zillow.com/homedetails/1280-Scooter-St-Henderson-NV-89002/70055558_zpid/?

[yoonia]

the bedroom hymns ● chapter xxi

⟶ Chapter summary | Mysteries continue to unfold as you carry on with your solo adventures, not realising that every piece of the past that you have uncovered in your journeys traces back in time, aligning themselves with what has been written for you by the will of fate.   

⟶ Title | The Bedroom Hymns: a Bluebeard’s twist ⟶ Pairings | Min Yoongi x female reader  ⟶ Genre | Fairy Prince!Yoongi, Crown Princess!reader, Fantasy!AU, Fairy Tale retelling ⟶ Word count | 11,872 words ⟶ Ratings | PG-13, +18 / M for Mature for future chapters; include magic terms, classism, depiction of fantasy ritual act, mention of fantasy religion/beliefs, mention of war, violence, weapons, sword fighting, blood, injuries. ⟶ Story Masterlist: The Bedroom Hymns | ⤎ previous chapter | next chapter ⇢ ⟶ Main Masterlist | Mailbox | Taglist | Feedback | Music Playlist | Ko-fi

⟶ Author’s note | After a long wait, we finally have a new chapter out. I’m sorry for keeping you from this update for so long. It was a hard journey to get this one done, since some personal stuff kept getting in the way. The chapter ‘ Serendipity’ has grown significantly during the writing process, so I had to split the chapter into three separate parts, and then even smaller parts on Wattpad for better reading experience. I hope you’ll enjoy reading this chapter!

chapter xxi. serendipity-1

A temple. 

The relief you felt for not finding yourself plunging into the rough sea or crashing down onto the sharp rocks on the shoreline was quickly replaced by bafflement when you saw where you had ended up in instead. 

Once your shock subsides, unease settles in. You aren’t quite sure why. This place doesn’t even look like the disintegrating temple you saw in your dream the previous night. 

This place reminds you more of E’l Alora; the mountains where giant dragons were flying around the human town built against the cliff’s wall, with its massive ravine and the castle on the rocks. 

Realisation dawns on you once you get to look at the little details of the temple a bit closer. Not a grand structure standing atop a hill, but a structure built within a mountain. As if a part of a mountain or a hill had sunken into the earth, forming a cave hidden within, surrounded by what was left of the mountain, and the temple was carved out of the rocky materials that had once been the core of the alp. 

Looking up, your eyes are met with the streaks of sunlight penetrating through the opening above your head. The sunlight here is quite murky—dull and grey as if the sun is hiding somewhere else instead of hanging up high in the sky, causing the colours around you to seem muted and washed out—yet it is still enough to illuminate the dark temple, giving you a clear sight of everything that is present right before your eyes. 

The door that you had just emerged from lies at the back of the room, facing directly towards the temple’s center where you can have a clear view of the dais spread along the length of the temple walls. A platform at the center rises slightly higher, made up of dark grey stone slabs that seem to have emerged from the ground rather than been carved by human hands. 

Meanwhile, a part of the ground at the center of the temple sinks deeper, creating a small crater in the middle of the main praying hall which is now filled with water. The nave area for the worshippers, filled with rows of benches made out of stone, was built around the pond instead of going around the dais, making it seem like the pool itself is the main focus point of the temple. 

The humming magic coming out of the portal feels like cold breeze brushing against your back. Looking over your shoulder, you see a line of small alcoves covered in draperies in place of doors—banners filled with symbols of a chalice and crescent moon drawn on dark blue backgrounds, with two arches of ivy drawn on the top and bottom as frames. One of the draperies is flicking gently behind you as if a breeze is flowing from within, only that magic hums from it and sparks light up as it brushes against your skin. 

The door. This will be my exit. 

Suppressing a shiver running down your spine, you turn away from it and carefully walk across the vacant temple, following the ray of lights from above to find your exit while taking everything in. 

Standing right at the heart of the main hall, the old, seemingly abandoned temple feels grand and noble at the same time, yet solemn in its stillness. The way the temple itself seems to have been crafted by nature makes it even more otherworldly. 

It makes you feel small. Insignificant among the nature that has formed this place a long time ago. 

The rocky walls around you stand three stories high, each level marked by small open corridors framed with stone bannisters. Rows and rows of small alcoves were carved into the rocky surface the same way the doors behind you are made, only without any banners hanging as covers. The sight reminds you of the hundreds of doors lining up the floors of Stargrave Castle, and also of E’l Alora—how its human town was built against the rocky walls of the ravine. Only that these alcoves appear dark and lifeless, housing nothing more but shadows. 

You wonder if these alcoves had once served significant purposes for the ceremonies that were held in this place. 

If only you had a way to get higher, would you be able to see marks of chairs between the alcoves for the royals who came to join or witness the rites? Perhaps there would be small altars up there where they put the statues of the Ancients that they were praying to in this place and they were set up as private praying chambers instead? 

Turning away from the walls, you look up to the dais on the ground floor and make your way towards it. Eyes on the platform standing at the center, you try to imagine this place coming alive with a rite—you picture the leaders of ceremonies taking their places atop the platform, the nave filling up with their devotees and disciples. 

If only you know the significance of the pool of water that is glimmering under the dim sunlight in front of you. From up close, you notice that the pool is glowing in the shade of jade—as if jade stones were laid at the bottom of the pond—but the surface of the water is clear like crystals, and you can see your face reflected perfectly on it when you look down. 

Curious, wondering if you can find any clue, you take a closer look at the raised dais.

There is no such altar just like what you’ve seen at the temples you visited back in Smotia, nor there are seats or couches like what you had seen in the royal churches. But mantles are built against the walls, lined up with burnt candles. You can also see those candles lined up perfectly on the low platform in front of the dais. Some of them are burnt halfway, others are burnt completely to the bottom. You reach out, waving your palm above the burnt wicks and are caught by surprise when you still feel some warmth there. Showing you that at least a couple of them were recently burned. 

So not completely abandoned, then. 

You pull your hand away with a flinch once you look a bit closer, seeing a couple of silver goblets which have been placed between the burnt candles. At one glance, they seem to be empty. Yet as you bend down over the one closest to you, you can see a drop of liquid pooling at the bottom. 

Wine. Still partially wet, as if it had just only been used recently. 

So this place is still used. But where are the people now? 

You strain your ears, eyes, and your other senses, trying to feel out any presence of a person, any figure that might be lurking in the dark temple, and feel nothing. Turning away from the abandoned offerings and burnt candles, you look past the pool of water, across the main hall, to see another source of light. An open stone archway stands at the other side of the hall, where lights are filtering through into the main hall.

The main entrance door. 

From this distance, you cannot see too clearly what is waiting on the other side of the opening. But then a draft comes flowing through the temple, followed by a low, resonant whistling noise that almost sounds like a soft howl of an animal echoing through the open archway. At the same time, the light that you see coming from the opening begins to flicker, shifting between the dim golden light of burning torches or candles and the grey of sunlight that appears far duller than the sky above. 

A tunnel, you realise with a grim smile. There is a tunnel beyond the archway leading you towards the exit, and you can only hope that no other surprises are waiting there. 

Slowly, you make your way across the dark temple. You try to be careful with your steps, doing your best to keep away from the slippery part of the stone floor around the pool. And yet your soft footsteps cannot stop the sound of your boots from echoing through the temple. The sound keeps bouncing against the walls as you walk on, sounding far too loud against the silence, making you feel even more hyperaware of your surroundings. 

Wrapping your palm around the hilt of your short sword, you walk through the stone archway, finding yourself in a short span of a tunnel. The stream of sunlight coming through the tunnel keeps the darkness at bay, in addition to the flickering torches that are hung along the length of the cavern, causing shadows to dance around you on the cold stone walls. 

You continue walking, your grip remaining firm on the hilt of your sheathed sword and your eyes ready, and then you carefully step into the light—or, in this case, lack thereof. 

Out here, beyond the grim darkness of the temple, the world is looking just as ghastly. From the threshold of the temple lies a spread of grove half the size of the temple’s main hall. Filled with thin trees, the grove expands toward the descending plain and ends at what seems to be the edge of a city. 

Carrying the same caution, you tread through the grove, still with your hand ready on the hilt of your sword. Walking under the sparse line of trees in the grove doesn’t leave you feeling much of being under their protection. 

The trees here remind you an awful lot of the trees you saw in E’l Alora. With barks and branches that glimmer in similar shades of pale and rotten grey yet darker to almost black at the bottom half to the roots below, only thinner and longer, twisted in odd angles as if they were frozen in the middle of dancing with the cold wind or in their fight to avoid whatever terror came into this land. The leaves are also painted in similar shades of teal and dark grey, only that they appear sharper and thinner, so much so that they look like needles pointing up to the sky and do nothing to shield you from the sky. 

The ground beneath the grove appears dark, as if covered in a thick layer of soot with not a sight of grass or undergrowth. As if the earth itself has been drained dry by the withering trees. In some parts, the dark soot is blanketed by a thin layer of dust and ash, as if the grove had once caught on fire leaving trails of its destruction undisturbed even as the trees began growing once more. 

You walk a bit deeper into the grove, taking a few steps further until you reach the part where the ground begins to descend. Until you can have a better glimpse of what lies on the other side of these trees, and you finally come to a halt. 

Because what you see on the other side only puts cold shivers down your spine. 

Beyond the last line of trees, there is nothing but the ruins of an old city. 

Crumbling structures stand before you, remnants of forgotten temples and a ghost of a majestic city that had once been vibrant and full of life. A grand skeleton of stone structures stands at the far end of the city, nearly floating above the river that seems darker than the jade-coloured pool you saw in the temple. The broken-down gates spreading around it become the only indication that you are looking at what used to be a palace—one that had once stood strong above the city, overlooking the land, the forest, and the mountain behind you. Beyond the remains of the fallen palace lies a vast terrain of rocky peaks, rising high like towers made of nature. 

The vast plain of the city and the fractured roads have been overgrown with weeds, their insidious tendrils creeping over the withering foundations of the city to grasp whatever life remains. Tendrils of ivy and layers of moss cover most of the structures that are left standing, coating all the pale and bright-coloured stones with various shades of green. Any visible part of the ground not covered by weeds and broken stones has mostly formed into puddles of muddy water, leaving you to wonder if this place has truly been deserted, left behind and abandoned in its demise. 

What happened here? 

What happened to the people? 

And what about the temple, the traces left behind to show that life still exists here? 

Under the dim grey sunlight, the fallen city before you seems as if engulfed in a permanent shadow, leaving all the tone of colours to appear washed out—just as lifeless as the city itself. 

You are suddenly reminded of your dream. The eerie sight of a kingdom dissolving into ruins that has been haunting your nights seems to have been manifested right before your eyes. Had it been a sign, a premonition of a once-existing place that you needed to find? 

Captivated and enthralled by the sight of the fallen city before you, you lose focus on your own safety, on the ground you are standing on. And the next step you take ends with a misstep. Sending you straight into a puddle. 

“Oh, fates,” you murmur to yourself as you lift your soaked boots out of the puddle of muddy water. 

You whisper another curse under your breath as you shake off the mud from your booths, but having your attention drawn away from the daunting sight only draws your focus back to the dark grove around you. 

It brings back your sense of awareness, enough to help you notice that the air around you has shifted. You are no longer alone. 

A rustling sound reaches you from somewhere between the eerie-looking trees. A movement that is felt but left unseen. Spine stiffens, your hand returns to the hilt of your sword, and with a soft, indiscernible exhale of breath, you let silence fall so you can have a better listen to any changes happening all around you. 

You briefly close your eyes, just in time for the noise to return. It is subtle, but you can sense the sound coming from your right. Yet when you rise and turn towards it, a loud shrill of a hawk echoes through the trees on your left. A flurry of movement catches your eyes when you swiftly turn towards the other side, before a shiny sword glares at you as it swings down towards you in a sudden attack. 

“Fates,” you curse out as you pull out your sword to protect yourself, swiping it upwards to fend off the attack. 

The force of the swords clashing on each other takes away the breath that you barely managed to take. You can feel your arms trembling as you take the brunt of the attack, but you keep your grip firm, steadying your weapon while you regain enough strength to return the blow. Your sword clinks against the unidentified assailant’s sword as you push him back, throwing him off of you before you step away. 

With a swift, yet slightly clumsy motion—your boots nearly slipping, again, on the muddy ground—and your grip tightening on your sword, you adjust your stance to face your assailant. 

The shrill of the hawk echoes through the air once again. This time, the animal appears at the corner of your eyes instead of hiding away, diving from the sky at a rapid speed to strike the face of a second assailant that you failed to notice and was just about to land a surprise strike at you with his sword. His attack fails, and now he is busy fending himself against the beast—a black-winged hawk twice, almost three times, the size of a normal adult man’s head. 

The hawk is ferocious. The animal’s shrill continues to echo through the woods as it fights against the man in the tattered uniform and rusted armour, attacking his head, face, hands, and any part of his body that is not shielded by armour or the rapid swing of his sword. 

Distracted by the other fight, you almost miss it when your first opponent regains his composure and makes his move. He lunges, taking the opportunity that was presented to him in your distraction, his sword slicing through the air with deadly precision, aiming straight to your left shoulder—or your throat, coming from the left, you cannot be too sure. 

Yet you manage to deflect with just a small struggle, your blade clashing against his with a resounding clang. You twist your wrist as you rush forward, pressing on him and redirecting the force of the impact with a swift swipe aimed at his exposed side. He staggers back as your sword hits right beneath his armour, at the soft spot of his waist that is unprotected with nothing more but the belt holding up his sheath. 

Pointing your sword at his face, you snap at him, “Who are you?” 

A grunt escapes his lips as he finds his balance, while you use this chance to get a good look at him. His long and straggly raven hair is pulled to the back, leaving only a few loose and messy strands framing his sharp and defined face. There is a scar crossing his left eye, starting from right above the eyebrow to an inch below his bottom lashes. The shadows from the grove give him the perfect veil over his tanned skin and dark armour, yet you can still see the scars lining up his exposed arm, indicating that he isn’t one to be messed with.  

His narrowed eyes flicker towards his companion who has failed to join the fight, the black-winged hawk keeps getting in the way of him trying to get closer. “We’re the ones who are supposed to be asking,” the scarred swordsman snaps at you. “You’re trespassing on private property. This place is forbidden to enter.” 

You bite the insides of your cheeks to try and rein in your emotions and think of how to respond. You doubt that he will be so understanding if you try to tell him how you managed to arrive at this place. 

“Then you must forgive me. I suppose I must’ve missed the sign,” you choose to say, realising that any form of logic would never work to defend yourself. “That still didn’t give you the right to swing your sword at people without a warning.” 

Your opponent raises his sword back up and adjusts his stance to ready himself for another strike. “The only one who hasn’t got the right to be here is you.” 

Scowling, while stealing a glance towards the other fight that is slowly dying down—the hawk already lessening its attacks when your second assailant is growing weak and tired—you try to calm yourself down and reason with him. “Listen, I’m just passing through. I mean no harm, and I have no means to cause any trouble.” Lifting your free hand up, you show him your open palm to support your claim. “Please, just let me pass.” 

The scarred swordsman refuses to back down and sneers at you. “I find that hard to believe. Not many can find this place, much less to pass the borders, especially by mere coincidence.”

Pressing your lips together, you try to push down the shivers running through you at his words. You have no idea why you keep ending up in these places ever since you began travelling through the portals again. 

Forbidden lands. Closed-off borders. Places where your protection spell suddenly becomes null. 

A sacred land. 

You have been keeping your eyes on your opponent while you are trying to process this, only to fail to notice that the other man has somehow found his bearings. The second assailant, now freed from the ominous hawk, seizes the opportunity and advances towards you with a flurry of rapid strikes. As if he is trying to express his anger over his wounds and his defeat against the wild animal by inflicting the same harm on you. 

Yet he isn’t aware of how high your adrenaline is at the moment—both from the sparring you did with the royal guard earlier and the fight you just had with his companion. Your body may be spent, your mind is still reeling over what the first armoured man said to you about this place, yet your senses are still on high alert.

Your reflex is quick, and you weave and dodge his attack with barely seconds to spare. Your sword meets his blade in a series of sparks. In his anger, his movements are out of order and reckless, which will be dangerous for you to continue engaging as they are too unpredictable. Unable to read and to deflect easily. 

Heart pounding, you spin to evade his final attack and snap the hilt of your sword against his bruising temple before delivering a sharp kick to his chest. The attack sends him stumbling backwards just as your first opponent returns to strike you from the other side. You sidestep from his swinging sword and retaliate, striking him from his right. Your sword finds its mark, cutting through his armour and drawing blood. 

A pained cry leaves his lips as he falls back, giving a chance for his partner who has somehow recovered quickly to take over the fight. 

The continuous assaults are beginning to drain you. Your body not only trembles as your second attacker returns with a strike, but you can almost feel sure you are seeing stars the moment your swords collide with each other. Your breath is heavy and ragged, your heart is pounding so hard it becomes the only thing you can hear, and both your muscles and bones are aching. As you stagger back, you realise that these men are trying to push you deeper into the grove, away from the temple and the city altogether. 

Keeping your eyes on them as they prowl closer, you wonder if there is something hidden in the grove. But your mind is too preoccupied with focusing on how to survive this fight to even try and figure out what is hidden in the shadows. 

Your upward swipe draws blood from your second attacker as your blade scraps his unprotected hips and your side kick brings him to his knee. You duck under a high swing and thrust your sword upward once again when his companion returns, catching him off guard when his surprise attack fails. He falters, clearly just as exhausted and spent as you are while bleeding profusely from the side of his waist. So you take the chance to disarm him with one strike, sending his sword skittering across the muddy ground. 

Enraged, he makes a sound from deep inside his throat—which sounds like a growl—and pulls out a dagger from his back to retaliate. Cursing under your breath, you press down your shaking legs to the soot-covered ground beneath you and ready yourself to counter his attack when a voice sharply bellows from behind you, echoing through the grove. 

“That’s enough!” 

At the ominous voice, everything stills. The men that you have been fighting with, the wind, and even the will for you to move. Keeping your sword pointed at your opponent, you turn to look over your shoulder to see the intruder. 

Pressure clamps down in your chest as the figure slips out of the shadow, worrying that you are about to face yet another threat. One should have been enough, two were already too many. And if you are going to have to deal with three—

Turning sideways to get a better look at your intruder without losing sight of your assailants, you bring the short sword forward to prepare yourself for an attack. The sound of their footsteps grows nearer, and you prepare to swing your hand down at them, only to immediately stop once the cloaked figure steps out into the limited streaks of sunlight filtering into the grove. 

“You can put that thing away, child. I mean no harm,” the figure speaks in a gentle, yet firm tone of voice. 

Thin, veiny hands are raised, gently lowering the hood of her cloak to reveal the sight of an old woman. The ageing lines on her face are visible even without any adequate light, and they soften when she smiles. Her hazel-brown eyes glint brightly under the dim lights falling on her as she takes you in. So bright, it looks almost golden. Her silver grey hair is pulled back to a thick braid, a striking difference to her rich golden-brown skin. 

She stands there in silence after revealing herself to you, clasping her hands together over her torso as she waits until you put the weapon away, sheathing it back to the left side of your hip. But your grip remains on the hilt of your sheathed sword, holding steady, even if it’s only for the sake of finding any semblance of strength while preparing yourself in case the situation suddenly changes again. 

The woman’s gaze follows your hand, taking account of the way your grip is tightening on your weapon. She makes no remark on it, however, as she looks up with a smile to regard the three of you, including the poor man still kneeling on the dirt, who—now that everything has calmed down—you are finally getting a good look on for the first time. 

Unlike his companion, the wounded swordsman looks a bit younger, with dirty blond hair and a mesh of curls on top of a boyish round face that is now marred with streaks of blood—the work of the massive hawk earlier. His bright blue eyes are wide, which seems as if they are perpetually filled with fear. His hands have fallen to his sides, slightly trembling, seen through the sword that he is still carrying, and it pleases you to know that you weren’t the one having a tough time during the fight. 

“Now, there really is no need for all this violence, is there?” the woman says, which only draws a scowl to your face upon hearing it. 

“They attacked me first,” you point out with a scoff.

A rueful smile comes to her face. “I apologise for their rudeness, my dear. They’re not exactly used to welcoming surprise guests coming to our home,” she says, tilting her head down with more respect than an elder would normally give to a younger stranger. “But it is nice to see someone visiting our homeland again after so long. It might be too late to say this, but you are welcome here.” 

The scarred man, who is clearly unhappy with this situation, snaps out of it and shouts, “High Priestess Gaia! What are you saying? She came in here without permission.” 

He is soon joined by his wounded companion who suddenly finds his missing bravado to reason, “This place has been abandoned and forgotten for a long time. For someone to be able to come here means—” 

“It means that they might have gotten their hands on a special key, or that fate has led her way here, just in time for the Full Moon Rite,” the woman—High Priestess Gaia—cuts off their rambling calmly, almost sounding like a mother chastising her rude boys. She gives them a pointed look as she adds, “Or the poor soul could have been lost. I’ve lived much longer in this realm than you have been, child. I don’t need you to lecture me about how things work in this place.” 

Sensing no danger coming from her, you loosen your guard a little—shoulders sagging in quick relief and your hands falling away from your sheathed sword. 

“So tell me. Are you lost, child?” 

Feeling unsure, you glance back and forth between the Priestess and the swordsmen before answering. “I, uh—” You take a deep breath, suddenly finding it hard to think of the right words to say. “I was just passing by,” you finally manage to speak. Sighing, you try to shake off the tension still rolling in your body and tilt your head down, greeting the Priestess as formally as you can. “Forgive me for trespassing. I had no idea if this place was forbidden to enter.” 

“It’s not,” High Priestess Gaia says without missing a beat—before any of the swordsmen can get a word in. “Just like the boy said. This place has been lost in time with no one coming to visit for a long time. Be it out of fear, or because this place has been written off from the maps of the realm.” 

You can sense the movement from one of the swordsmen as he shifts on his feet, as if trying to dispute the high priestess’ words. Gaia, noticing the same thing, releases a deep sigh and looks over at them. 

“Go back to the Keep. It’s almost time for the rite. I’m sure you will be more useful for the priests there,” she firmly says, and then turns to the wounded man still sitting on the ground to add, “And you’ll want to look at those wounds and have them tended.” 

The scarred swordsman—the one still standing—grits his teeth, as if he is about to deny the order given to him. But then his companion lets out a deep grunt in his effort to rise to his feet, and he finally gives in. Nodding his head, the scarred swordsman swallows his displeasure and bends down to retrieve his sword. He glares at you as he sheaths his sword, before turning to help his friend to his feet. 

“I’ll take him to the healer,” he says, bowing slightly at the priestess. Facing you again, his glare returns, as sharp as the tip of his sword as he swears, “Fates be damned, but if you even think about leaving a scratch on Gaia’s skin or posing a threat to her, I will come back here and end you myself.”

You return his glare with a stubborn tilt of your chin. “And as I have repeatedly said, I never meant any harm. I can promise you that there will be no harm committed to your priestess.” 

Keeping your gaze locked on the scarred guard, you can see it when he finally backs down, the defiant look in his eyes wavering before he acknowledges you with a short nod. Wrapping the younger one’s arm around his shoulder so he can support him, he says nothing else and simply bows to the high priestess before finally walking away.

You watch them go, wobbling through the trees before they disappear in the shadows as they search for a healer. 

“Go back to the Keep.” 

So you were right, after all. There is something beyond this grove. You wonder if there are other swordsmen like them stationed in the Keep—guards who are responsible of watching over the temple and the ruined city—and were planning to hold you hostage there. Shaking your head, you choose not to dwell in the thought and turn to face the high priestess again.

She still has her eyes following the swordsmen, watching over them like a mother would to her sons. 

Glancing over her shoulder, you realise that she is standing on the path which leads you back to the temple. It makes you wonder if that was where she had come from. 

Has she been in the temple all along? 

“I wasn’t aware that there was someone in the temple when I was in there.” 

The wise, old woman turns her gaze towards you and smiles. “Strictly speaking, I was not. I was praying in my chamber. I only came down here because I felt something calling for me at the temple. Thought it was her, but I guess I was wrong,” she says with a deep, almost bitter chuckle. Her words and the look in her eyes are hollow when she mutters almost to herself, “I should’ve known better. It’s been too long since she came to visit this place.” 

‘Her’? 

The way she is speaking in riddles while looking as if she is lost in her own thoughts—memories—draws an icy, uneasy chill through your body. Her eyes appear haunted, as if lost somewhere in the past. That look lasts merely a moment longer before it fades, warmth fills her almost-golden eyes when she regards you again. But then the uneasiness returns when you are made to feel as if she is looking straight into your soul, unravelling your secrets without so much of a spell. 

“Do you know where you are?” 

“Not really,” you reluctantly admit. Unlike E’l Alora, which you were able to identify before ever stepping foot into their human town, this place doesn’t remind you at all of anything that you have ever read in your book of Ancients and Magic. “In a way, you were right, I got lost and stranded here for some reason.” 

A light sound of laughter leaves you, only that it comes out a bit shaky with nerves. 

“Forgive me if I sound rude, but,” you glance around the grove, shuddering under the shadows that have grown thicker now that the sun has lowered from the sky. “May I know what exactly is this place?” 

The old woman looks at you with a knowing smile. “Come. It would be better if we find someplace more comfortable for us to talk,” she says to you as she turns, ready to head back to the direction where she came from. She might have sensed your hesitation, because she glances down at your forearm and gently points out, “Maybe we can also do something about that wound.”

You follow her gaze and look down, surprised to see a tear on your sleeve. From the torn fabric, you can see a long slash on the skin of your forearm, fresh blood still leaking out. A wound that came from the fight without you realising it. 

“Oh, I didn’t realise,” you murmur with a flinch. You recall feeling a sting on your forearm at one point during the fight, yet you ignored it, focusing more on deflecting their swords and pushing back. Now that you finally notice the wound, your brain begins to register the pain. 

Pressing your palm against the wound, you look at the high priestess with narrowed eyes. “You could’ve sent me off with your men to have this looked at.” 

Gaia merely scoffs, as if the thought of allowing you to join the guards would have been unfathomable. “And risk them disobeying me once I’m not looking?” she asks, “I hope you’ll excuse those boys. They have taken their duty to guard this place to heart—perhaps a bit too much. Though I can’t excuse them for their rash behaviour. They should’ve reported to me first or any of the high priests before taking actions.” 

You quickly shake your head. “I should be the one apologising for causing trouble.” 

“There is no need,” she says. You can almost hear her smile when she turns away from you. “Now, come, before that wound gets worse. And you also fought quite hard, so who knows if there’s any other we’re not seeing.” 

Lowering your arms to your side, you begin to follow the high priestess. But just as you are about to leave the fighting ground, Gaia lifts her hood and looks up to the trees. 

“You might want to alert your friend and tell him that you’re doing fine with me. That might stop him from worrying too much,” she suddenly says, pointing up towards the black-winged hawk that had joined the fight earlier, now perched on one of the thin, twisted branches hanging above your head. 

At the height of the fight, you have forgotten about it. 

When you first saw it, you had simply thought that the hawk only appeared because you had intruded on its home. But Gaia’s comment only puts a confused frown on your face. 

“What? But I thought the hawk is with you,” you question her, thinking that the animal is a part of the land, therefore, related to Gaia and the temple. But your question only draws another soft chuckle coming from her.

“Oh, no, dear. That handsome hawk came in together with you,” she says as she looks over her shoulder with a knowing smile, leaving you to wonder where the beast had come from, and why it had involved itself in your fight. 

You were quite right for assuming that the high priestess had come from the mountain temple.

Well, you were partially right. 

After your quick chat at the grove, Gaia led you back towards the mountain temple. But the moment you entered the entrance tunnel leading back into the main temple, she made a sharp turn and entered through an aperture in the stone wall that you had missed on your way out. It was dark, yet the moment she walked past the wall, torches lit up with flames that burned without any heat, illuminating the corridor and the set of stone steps leading upwards. 

You followed her until she entered a simple stone room above the tunnel. The chamber was narrow and high-ceilinged, with candlelights flickering on the stone walls and the small wooden altar set on the end of the chamber. You saw no sight of a statue or drawings of any known Ancients around the altar, yet the wooden top was filled with scriptures, rolled and drawn open, with an opened book laid on the center. 

Aside from the altar, the chamber was limitedly furnished. Nothing but one dark rug made up of animal skin covering the front of the altar, a shelf in the corner of the room which was filled with herbs and mixing bowls and even more books, and a single divan covered in silk—that was where you settled down soon after you entered the chamber.  

And now the chamber is filled with the scent of herbs, a concoction that she made to help heal your wound. It feels cold on your skin, and it leaves an obvious stain which requires you to roll up your sleeve to avoid it getting soiled—even though you still worried about explaining the tear and the blood stain once you would have to hand it over to the palace maid. 

“Seeing the way you are looking at this place, it seems that you’ve been to another sacred land before,” Gaia says, stating a fact rather than questioning, as she gently wraps a bandage around your wounded forearm, sealing the medicinal herbs while stopping your bleeding. 

Nodding, you choose to explain it the best you can without giving too many details about your ‘trips,’ and without revealing that it had been merely a day before when you first encountered another sacred land. “I’ve travelled to different places, oftentimes finding myself stranded in strange places,” you share with a chuckle, “Such as this one.” 

Gaia smiles and finishes her work. “Our homeland, this city of mountains, is called Arselon,” she says as she gathers the bowl of mixed herbs and bandages and starts putting them away. “The mountain temple has always been known as the temple of Arselon, even though it used to have its own name. Many used to travel far to come to our rites, specifically the nights of the full moon. Just like what’s happening tonight.” 

You have so many questions. Much about this place, and more about the people that had once resided here. Gaia, as if she can read your mind, turns to light up fresh candles to replace the ones that have burned out while she was gone, and continues to tell you more about this place. “Back then, the Ancients—our ancestors—built these temples to worship their Gods and Goddesses, to pray for the sanctity of the realm and to pass down their wisdom. Unlike the humans in the mortal realm, the residents of the Far Far Away Land today no longer hold the same rites, and only a small few still worship the sources of their powers, while only using these temples to pray and wish for blessings from their ancestors. It has been that way since the Ancients who built this realm were long gone.”

Gaia returns to your side with a glass of wine—for healing, she had explained earlier when she first pointed out the decanter resting on the wooden shelf. “This place used to be where the Priests and Priestess would hold lectures and sermons to the people, spreading the knowledge about our Ancients and magic, and the history behind the creation of the realm.” 

Gaia’s eyes turn towards the flickering candles, and then the small altar. “We still keep most of the scriptures that recounted the story of the Ancients, the history behind the realm, and the secrets of magic. Yet we no longer have as many as we used to. All that we have left are preserved in small chambers such as this one, hidden libraries and storages in various parts of this mountain temple.” 

Your eyes follow her gaze to the scriptures on the altar, the chests lying beneath, and the shelf which is lined up with old books. You refuse to believe that this is all that was left of all the documented history that this place has to preserve, but before you can say anything, Gaia confirms it with sadness written in her gaze. 

“Once, this land was seen and regarded as a sacred place, a holy land, yet this is all that was left behind over time.” A resigned sigh escapes her lips before she smiles grimly. “Now you understand why our young guards were uncompromising when it came to protecting this place.” 

The smile that you give her feels just as grim. Your mouth feels bitter from her grievance, from the dark history shadowing this place, so you raise your glass to wash it all down. Your chest aches to think about what was lost. Recalling what you have learned after your visit to E’l Alora, you take a deep breath and question her, “Was it the war, that came to this land?” 

Gaia grimly nods. “The Great Siege.”

Once the sun has set, and nightfall comes, Gaia invites you to witness the rite. 

It is an offer that you cannot possibly refuse. 

You follow Gaia through a different corridor—one that was yet again hidden in the stone wall—on the other side of her private chamber, emerging on one of the alcoves on the upper tier which you saw earlier. From here, you have the perfect view of the rite from above, the entire part of the temple is visible for you to experience the ceremony while remaining hidden from sight. 

The temple has already fascinated you before, regardless of its vacancy and forlorn facade that you witnessed when you first entered the place. 

Seeing the temple coming alive with the rite fascinates you even more; with worshippers and believers making use of this dark place. They arrive soon after dusk in various shades of cloaks and robes, candlelights flickering to eliminate the shadows and melodic chants of prayers bouncing against the dark stone walls.

Standing at the center of the raised dais is a priest in a white robe, with a few others standing on either side of him, all carrying candles in their hands while leading the prayers. The guards, including the two that you met earlier in the grove, are wearing dark robes over their armours as they line up below the dais, watching over the rite and helping out those who have arrived with offerings to place around the dais. 

You watch with keen eyes as the rite continues. The people move like a steady current, in motion with the rhythm of the chanting prayers echoing through the temple. You watch in awe as they move in a practised gesture—the way they walk up in line to light up the candles around the dais before moving back to the nave, where they follow the motion by passing and exchanging candles between each other. 

The way the flickering flames seem to be weaving through the people becomes such a captivating sight. The lights and flames spread across the temple until the entire hall comes alight—a symbol of life surviving in the dark, of the people who survived the darkness, and the story that has been written of their past, present, and future. 

“Once, in the past, this holy land burned with life. Candles were lit up to celebrate life, to honour our blessings, and to pray for the Ancients that were watching over us from above,” Gaia speaks from beside you, her voice gentle and soft, almost as melodic as the prayers echoing down below. But then her voice turns grim as she speaks of the past, “And then they came, bringing in their deathly flames, and this city burned into ashes.” 

You turn to look at Gaia as she suddenly laughs. A pained and bitter laugh that pierces through your chest.  

“Well, most of them,” she adds with a wry smile, “This temple and the ruins you saw outside are what was left of this place. Decades, centuries worth of a civilization reduced to nothing more but skeletons of our homes, schools, temples, and everything that our elders had built for the sake of preserving the treasure of knowledge and faith left behind by the Ancients. The only thing that those flames failed to diminish was the spirit of our people.” 

As she continues to speak, Gaia’s eyes light up. Her grief is soon replaced by hope. “These people,” she says, as she watches the people below, ”They may have lost their homes, the lands that they had spent generations cultivating for the benefit of our homeland, yet they continue to thrive through the pain of our dark past, surviving the best they can with all that we have left, even if it means that we all have to remain hidden in the shadows.”

“But where do these people live?” you ask, as you have been wondering ever since the first time you stepped foot in this place, “Where do you all live, when the city is no longer safe?” 

“In places that our own homeland provides for us, just like how this temple came to be,” Gaia explains. “There are people who live within and in the heart of the mountains, in homes that were built in the stone walls, and even under the dry, rocky peaks spread across the land. It may not be much, compared to what we used to have just decades ago, yet we have found our solitude in enclosed spaces such as this temple that protects us all.” 

Down below, the rite continues. The movement of the candles has gone slower, and so are the chants recited by the priests and priestesses leading the ceremony. There are only a small amount of offerings laid on the dais, but there are so many candles to make up for what is lacking. 

“After the war, the only times that our candles were lit were to hold vigils and prayers for the Ancients to liberate us from our suffering,” Gaia continues as you watch the priests and priestesses leaving the raised dais, slowly making their way to the center of the temple where the pool of water is present. “Now, we light our candles to reflect, to pay homage to those who sacrificed their lives to protect what now remains of our home, and to remember our dark history so we can replace our pain with new hope.” 

The movements within the temple shift. This time, the guards in their dark robes are the ones to make their move, weaving through the believers with the silver chalices filled with wine in their hands. Carefully, the guards pass the chalices to the people, who then each take a drink from them before passing them over to the next in line. 

Gaia gently explains that the drinking of wine symbolises living for the future, to drink for the dead and the forgotten ancestors while celebrating the old life that they have lost. 

Your eyes move to the pool of water, realising only now that the full moon—which appears through the opening above the temple—is reflected perfectly on the surface of the water. 

The leaders of the ceremony move to stand around the pool to sing their prayers, joined in by their followers who are lining behind them in the nave. At the end of the rite, the priests and priestesses retreat to the back of the temple, while the worshippers step forward to take their place. 

One by one, the people come down to their knees to pray to the moon’s reflection in the water, before finally releasing the small candles that they have been holding into the pool, allowing them to float around the image of the bright moon. 

“To the sky, we pray for the future. To the land, we pray for the dead. To the water, we pass our wishes to the moon, hoping that it will one day pass down to us its blessings, the same way it once did to the Ancients who walked on this realm.” 

You continue to watch as this ritual continues, allowing every single worshipper to do their part of the ceremony until they dwindle into small groups of people praying beyond the dais. You have become so enthralled by the scene that you barely notice that Gaia has left your side until she returns. 

“Don’t you think it’s time for you to go home?” she asks, snapping you out of your daze. As you turn to her, Gaia hands you a folded cloth—a dark robe—something which she says may help you blend in with the remaining groups of people below so you can safely slip away from the temple. 

You are still in such a daze after witnessing the rite—something that feels so divine and sacred that it gives you a sense of peace and grief at the same time—that it doesn’t register to you the fact that the priestess seems to have knowledge of your time limit until much later. You simply listen to her instructions on how to reach the ground level—back to where your exit is located—as you put on the robe, covering your appearance as much as you can to avoid gaining unwanted attention. 

“Our home is open to travellers like yourself, should you ever decide to return and find some interest to learn more about us,” Gaia adds right before you go. “Regardless of what Gen and Edmund said earlier, this place isn’t as closed off or forbidden as it was made to be. We have closed our borders, but some of us believe that it would only be right to maintain the faith that our elders once had about opening our doors to other believers.” 

In her gaze, the same hope you saw lights up the same way the candlelights below are still burning brightly. “The longer we are hidden from the world, the more we will be forgotten. And the knowledge of the past that we have spent centuries protecting will one day be lost in time, exactly what our enemies had once aimed towards when they brought their flames to our home.”  

Just as Gaia is about to send you off down the stone steps, she reaches out to grab your hands, holding them gently in hers. “Promise me that you’ll return one day. That you’ll never forget about us,” she calmly asks while holding her pleading gaze on yours. Your body stiffens when you feel her passing something into your palm, and you instinctively wrap your palm around it firmly to keep it from falling. 

“I promise. I’ll return one day, hopefully in better circumstances than the present,” you promise her with a smile, not bothering to say something as you accept the small token that she has given you and slip it into your pocket without looking. You keep your gaze steady on hers as you whisper, “Thank you.”

As you slip through the worshippers who are still deep in their prayers, making your way to the back of the dais to find the hidden portal door, you suddenly feel the heat of a gaze following your movement. Cautiously, you turn to look over your shoulder, expecting to see the familiar glare from the guard that you fought previously tracking your escape. 

But what is looking back at you isn’t at all human. 

Perched atop the bannister on the upper floor, you see the magnificent-looking black-winged hawk that had appeared during your fight earlier. With its wings pulled back, its eyes are wide open, glaring at you attentively as if it is keeping watch at your departure. Staring back at it, the animal’s gaze feels menacing and comforting at the same time, yet something deep inside is telling you that the hawk is there without any malicious intent. It is simply there to watch you, to see you go, and it remains in its position when you turn away, slipping under the banner and into the magic portal to return home. 

As the wave of magic taking you away from the sacred land ripples through the space around you, the hawk flaps its wings and rises from its perch, making its own way back home to where it came from.

Emburn Empire has come alive tonight. 

The full moon looks bright in the night sky, casting a divine glow into the land. 

The imperial palace and its Moon Temple look radiant under the night sky, the white walls and pillars made up of Clayntine Stone reflecting the moonlight glow so perfectly that they glimmer like magic crystals. 

Within the walls of the Moon Temple of Aone, candlelights flicker and burn, casting a golden glow across the praying hall. Both inside and on the outer grounds of the moon temple, the people of Emburn have come and gathered to witness the rite. From above, the candlelights appear like an ocean of living inferno—the ocean of hope, as the Royal Priests would call it. 

Ever since he was a young boy, Yoongi has always enjoyed the Runea Luna Eve, the night of the full moon, when the rite is held to celebrate and pay homage to the Ancients who had built the land of Emburn. Tonight, however, he is too restless to enjoy the celebration, feeling too disconnected to even pay attention to the ceremony unfolding right in front of him.  

The Moon Temple of Aone is full tonight; the commoners are taking up the space below, while the nobles and royals claim the seats on the upper tiers and the mezzanine floors. Many carry their own candles in their hands as a symbol of their hope, but all have their eyes set on the front of the raised dais at the head of the temple, where the Royal High Priest is giving his sermon and leading the prayers. 

Two identical thrones sit on the center of the raised dais. The Empress of Emburn, Empress Ariane, sits on one of them, while the one beside her is left empty in the absence of the ailing Emperor. Behind her, two rows of long benches are set to accommodate the members of the Royal Priesthood on one side, while the Royal Aides who are present to show support for the Empress fill the other side. 

The Crown Prince sits on the balcony on the top left of the dais, together with the highest nobles and the royal guests who were invited to witness the ceremony. Including the royal guests that Yoongi is currently—and quite reluctantly—hosting in place of the Empress; Byron Koshar, the new Emperor of the Neo Empire of Kosha, and his second daughter, Princess Celestyna.

“You’ll have to keep the Princess company during the rite tonight. Treat her well, be polite about it, and make her feel welcome,” was the warning that Empress Ariane had given Yoongi earlier today during the preparation for the rite. “You need to build a positive relationship with the Kosha Empire to gain support for your future.” 

“Must I take up the responsibility for your guests, Mother? There are tons of nobles here that would be more suitable and willing to be their hosts.” 

At Yoongi’s complaint, the Empress turned and glared. Obviously displeased that her son is unwilling to do her bidding. “Those nobles aren’t the ones who are going to take the throne now, are they?” she scolded him then with a sharp tone of voice that made him wince. “Do this for the Empire, for the Emperor, and for your position on the throne.” 

Yoongi had chosen not to argue, realising that there was no way he could win against Empress Ariane once she made the decree. 

He isn’t even sure why it would be necessary for him to gain support from Kosha Empire. It’s not like there will be anyone to contest his position for the throne once the time comes. And it’s not like he’s eager to take the crown so prematurely, with the Emperor still living and breathing and capable enough to continue ruling, and while he is still in the process of courting his future Empress. 

Even if there are parties of nobles or royal blood who would dare to challenge his position on the throne, Yoongi cannot possibly see how being ‘good friends’ with the second Princess would give him the advantage to refute the challenge. He feels bitter to think that the Empress may have any intention of arranging some forming of an alliance by matching them together. 

Marriage arrangements made to gain favour from a strong ally are not unheard of, but it isn’t something that Yoongi would be willing to partake in. Not even at the risk of losing his position on the throne. 

And he cannot possibly agree with such an arrangement when he already has someone who was chosen for him since the day he was born. 

Yoongi holds back an exasperated groan and looks up at the exposed dome ceiling above. Through the see-through ceiling made up of Shadow Crystal, the full moon is clearly visible, illuminating the temple’s hall with its glow. 

Keeping his eyes on the moon helps him detach himself from the present. His restless mind is so quick to wander, filled with the thoughts of you. He wonders where you might be spending your evening, and if you are looking up at the moon the way he is doing now. He also wonders if you are safe, wherever you are. 

“…as we send our gratitude to the moon, tonight, we remember our great ancestor, the Fairy King Aone, the Ancient Hunter who had borrowed the magic from the moon to build Emburn from the ashes and has continued to bring prosperity to the people…” 

The Royal High Priest’s voice echoes through the grand hall, pulling Yoongi’s attention back to the ceremony that is slowly coming to an end. 

Back in the past, the sermons and praises for the Ancient Hunter would have been followed by a sacrament which lasted for the entire night, beginning from nightfall to the coming of dawn, filled with chantings of prayers for the ancestors, the Ancients, and the moon. 

In the present time, the ritual will be followed with festivities. A night of celebration where the people will pour into the streets to sing and dance and drink as much wine as their minds and bodies would allow until the dawn comes. 

Once Yoongi has his attention on the raised dais, his eyes flickering towards the altar and the statue of the Ancient Hunter standing in the center, he feels something pulling at him. A pulse. A shot of magic calling for his attention, and it seems to be coming from the ground floor of the temple.

Yoongi looks across the grand hall as a dark figure slips out from behind one of the white pillars, wearing a black robe with its hood raised over his head, hiding his face and features from prying eyes. 

Sensing Yoongi’s eyes on him, the person lifts his head, meeting Yoongi’s gaze with his own from the distance, revealing himself to be none other than Yoongi’s best friend and right-hand man.

Yijeong. 

Upon meeting Yoongi’s gaze, Yijeong nods once. A subtle gesture that the busy worshippers around him will surely miss. But the one gesture is enough for the Crown Prince. The message has been delivered and received.

She’s home safe. 

With a gesture that is just as subtle, Yoongi responds with a slight tilt of his head and then leans back into his seat. The anxiety which has been weighing on him since the moment he felt the ripple of magic—the omen signifying that a portal has been opened—is soon lifted. 

His job done, Yijeong steps back into the shadow, drifting out of the crowd of people and out of the moon temple just as the Royal High Priest ends his sermon. The air immediately shifts as the Royal Priests step away from the altar. One by one, the people begin to disperse—some making time to walk up to the altar and the dais to leave their candles and bow to the Empress, while others walk out towards the nearest stream to release their candles and let them drift along with the flowing water, hoping that they would bring their wishes back to the land that they are worshipping or wherever the stream of Marble Falls and the Armere River will take them. 

In the absence of the Royal Priests’ sermons and prayers, the sound of music begins, carrying on with the evening breeze like a draft, a sign for the festivities celebrating the full moon and the birth of the Ancient Hunter to begin. 

Yoongi looks over to the throne as Empress Ariane rises from her seat, throwing a barely-there glance towards the balcony, straight where the Crown Prince and his guest—his date for the night, if that is what the Empress has in mind—are sitting in. 

The bitterness that he felt earlier returns when he meets the Empress’ gaze. He knows that she isn’t turning to see if the Crown Prince—her son—is having a blast during the ceremony. He knows that the Empress is simply checking to see if he is doing his duty as the perfect host for the people that he wants absolutely nothing to do with. 

Yoongi keeps his eyes on his mother until she steps away, leaving the temple through the rear exit which leads towards the royal drawing room, the priests and priestesses and her royal aides trailing right behind. Yoongi nearly shoves himself out of his seat as he rises, ready—perhaps too eager—to end his night and return to the palace. 

Just as Yoongi is about to turn and bid his farewell to the Emperor of Kosha—who has been busy chatting with a noble from the city called Mosshaven, the city of merchants at the south end of Emburn—and the other nobles who have been there with him, Princess Celestyna speaks first. 

“Leaving so soon, Your Highness? Must you really leave now?” she asks. Her tone is gentle and polite, yet it demands attention, the kind that would have put young men to their knees, bending over backwards to please her. “The festivities are only beginning. Wouldn’t the people look forward to having their Crown Prince be a part of it?” 

Yoongi forces a smile. For the past few days, Yoongi has been confined in the palace under the Empress’ orders to host the royal guests. Primarily, the second princess. And for the past few days, he was forced to ignore the ripples of magic calling for him, beckoning him to see you, all due to the princess always getting in the way, always inquiring for his company at the same exact time he wished to rush to your side instead.

Always with mundane things that Yoongi would have preferred to avoid, to rather deal with important matters instead of wasting it with an afternoon stroll through the royal gardens, or have tea and biscuits by the Emerald Lake, or have him escorting her through the various estates in the Imperial Palace’s territory and help her learn about the arts and culture of Emburn.  

The fact is, he has grown tired of it. He has wasted too much precious time which he could have spent with you.  

Even looking at the Princess makes him feel exhausted and weary. At least, tonight, he can use the festivities as an excuse to find some semblance of freedom. To untangle himself from the responsibility that has been forced on him. 

“I’m sure the people will be able to have fun without me being there,” Yoongi smoothly says, “There are other members of the royal family who will be joining the festivities and would no doubt feel honoured to keep you company. I’m sure they’ll be better party companions than I would.” 

Princess Celestyna’s face pinches with displeasure—a look which reminds Yoongi too much of his mother which, undeniably, the only reminder that the Empress is indeed distantly related to the royal family of Kosha—yet she is quick to conceal it with a thin smile. The same practised smile that she has been wearing each time she was in the company of the Empress, Yoongi took notice. 

“Well, I was expecting that we could perhaps share the first dance during the celebration. This is my first time joining such a grand event, after all, and I heard a member of the royal family has always been the one to start the dancing,” she says with a deliberate tone that is meant to seduce, to allure, while she leans slightly forward to get closer to Yoongi. 

Close enough for Yoongi to smell the scent of the perfume that she had pasted around her collarbone and between her breasts. A strong, sultry scent of orchid with a hint of spiciness to it. Yoongi prefers something sweet, subtle and fresh. Something that reminds him of you. 

There is also something about the gesture and the way she speaks which seems off to him. Unconvincing and completely unfitting to be something that a person of her character would do. It feels too deliberate. Too hollow and viscous. As if she had practised this act one too many times before she was made to face Yoongi.   

A shiver runs through him. The unsettling kind which takes an effort for him to hide.

Pressing his lips, Yoongi tries to reel his annoyance from surfacing. This isn’t the first time that Princess Celestyna has brought up her request to have Yoongi stay by her side for the evening’s events and share a dance with her. The only problem with this offer would be the fact that if Yoongi ever plans on attending the festival, as per tradition, having her as his dance partner and showing her to his people would make everyone think that she is the one he is courting to be the future consort or the next Empress of Emburn.

There is no possible way that he would risk something like this. Not when he already has someone else in mind to introduce to his people. 

“Unfortunately, I do have other business to attend to, and I promise that I wouldn’t be able to act as the perfect company or host for Your Highness the Princess tonight if I am to have my focus wandering towards other matters and not be present,” Yoongi reasons with the Princess, using the same words that he used the previous times Princess Celestyna kept trying to convince Yoongi to spend the evening with her. 

Yoongi is quite sure that his refusal will no doubt reach the Empress, and there might be chances for him to receive the brunt of the Empress’ ire once he comes face to face with his mother again. Princess Celestyna should know this too, judging from the way her gaze sharpens, and how she is quick to make him another offer before Yoongi can slip away. 

“Then you must make it up by sparing your time with me in the afternoon tomorrow,” she urgently asks him with one of her dainty hands placed on Yoongi’s arm, merely inches above his elbow. “Perhaps we can have tea in the Royal Garden once you are done with your duties?” 

Yoongi bites back the words of refusal that nearly slip out the moment she speaks. It is an offer that is not quite an open invitation. More like a challenge, a subtle threat, as Yoongi can sense a finality in her words. He can almost hear the words unspoken from her gaze—give me this, or I’ll go to the Empress and make things harder for you. 

A resigned sigh slips out of him as Yoongi realises that he has no choice but to play along. At least for now. Only until he can find the chance or an excuse to escape from the second Princess. 

His nod is stiff when Yoongi reluctantly accepts her deal. “One of my attendants will come for you in the afternoon once I have tea prepared in the gardens.” 

“Thank you, Your Highness,” Princess Celestyna says with a smile on her face, mirth dancing in her eyes as she finally gets her wish. “I shall be waiting for the good news.” 

Bowing towards the Princess, and then to her silent father, the Emperor of Kosha, Yoongi bids his farewell for the night and quickly turns to walk away before any word can be thrown to trample his escape. The long tail of his black coat flares behind him as he walks out of the balcony seats in rapid footsteps. 

His hand finds its way to his upper arm as he walks down the stairs, making his exit through the vacant service hall in the back of the temple. He keeps rubbing the skin from over the thick sleeve of his coat to brush away the lingering feeling of the Princess’ hand, wishing it to be your touch instead. 

As he makes his way out of the Moon Temple of Aone, Yoongi silently makes up his mind, promising himself that at the next full moon ceremony, he will make sure that he only has you standing by his side. 

For your hand to be the only one he would ask for the first dance the next time he joins the Runea Luna Eve. 

That day will come, he tells himself. A promise. Soon. 

⟶ Author’s note | thank you for reading! If you enjoyed this one, please leave a like/kudo and help reblog the fic to share it with others to enjoy. Any form of feedback is welcome!

— © 2024 Yoonia, all rights reserved. reposting/modifying of any kind is not allowed. unsolicited translations are not allowed.

[kiirotoao]

Byler biking headcanons because we win and always have and always will win

Will always had legs a little shorter than Mike growing up, and so he biked a little slower. But Will never knew that because Mike always slowed down just a tad to be right next to him

Whenever Mike got super excited about something, he’d bike in circles around Will and go off about how excited he was. Will watched him and turned his head to track him and talk to him with joy

Mike loved being purposefully wobbly on his bike sometimes or lift his feet and hands up to make Will laugh

If ever their bikes broke, they were at Mike’s garage ASAP for a fixing (plus Lucas and Dustin came over too if it was really bad)

In the dark, Mike often reminds Will to turn his bike light on

Meanwhile Will often reminds Mike to turn his bike light off afterwards

Will tried to color their bikes with pens once but it came off almost immediately. Mike mourned Will’s doodles no longer on his bike for weeks

Will colored/decorated the bikes at Castle Byers too btw then when it rained that’s when the designs came off

Will was always pretty cautious going down hills but Mike slowly assured him that it was more fun to go fast and thus Will became the speed demon we see in s1

Both are pretty confident off-roading and Mike loves the rocky terrains but Will prefers a nice smooth path

Will fell off his bike once and Mike almost let his own bike get run over by a car because he left it in the middle of the road to tend to Will

Once Byler get together they try to kiss each other while biking. It does not work but they get a kick out of trying and almost crashing into each other anyway :)

[isnotwhatyourethinking]

The Warrior & The Healer - Chapter 3

Cassian x Winter Court Healer Reader

Summary: Y/n's healing powers are unparalleled, a gift from the Mother that she wields with precision and care. Sent to Velaris under the guise of a diplomatic mission, Y/n is secretly bound by a darker duty—spying for the Winter Court's ruthless war general, Isarn, to protect her imprisoned mother. But as she works to heal the wounds inflicted by Hybern, a chance encounter with a certain Illyrian warrior changes everything.

Word Count: 5.8K

A/N: sorry this took so long, I had to organize an auction T.T though I loved loved loved diving more into the plot and introducing new characters! hope u like this one, angst and all xx

Warnings: girl can't catch a break, angst, mentions of family abuse, blood, violence, waterboarding, language if you squint, some fluff at the end, sorry if I missed anything!

All ACOTAR rights to the genius of Sarah J Maas✨

Upon arriving at the Winter Court, I was greeted by a too-familiar frigid air that clung to my bones, making me long for the warmth of Velaris, and by a structure before me that loomed like a minatory giant, challenging me with its sheer presence. 

The Hailstone Citadel stood majestically atop a rocky hill, its towering spires piercing the frosty air. Constructed around a grand meeting hall where the leaders of the Court gathered for official events, and made from spotless white marble with delicate veins of silver, its walls shimmered like freshly fallen snow under the pale winter sun. The battlements, adorned with intricate carvings of long-forgotten runes, were fashioned from pale blue quartzite, their surfaces glistening as if perpetually coated in a thin layer of frost. 

Inside, the grand halls were lined with smooth alabaster, casting an ethereal glow that mimicked the natural luminescence of ice. Blue calcite pillars rose to support the vaulted ceilings, their icy hue deepening the castle's wintry ambiance. Even the floors, polished to perfection, reflected the cold beauty of the surroundings, with inlaid designs of glacial stone that told tales of ancient winters. 

I stared at the mythical beasts that welcomed me, standing as majestic statues at the base of the blue pillars, symbols of the Winter Court’s strength and ferocity. Great white glacial bears, their fur eternally pristine like the marble walls, were carved to perfection. Snow griffins and frostfang wolves, their watchful gazes following my every move, guarded the halls with silent vigilance. They had always made me feel so small, as if they might jump and shred me to pieces at any second.

The entire structure exuded an icy aura, both in temperature and in its hauntingly beautiful design, perfectly encapsulating the essence of my court. I was caught off guard by the subtle shudder that thought caused.

As I made my way to the tactical wing, I felt a shiver run down my spine, and not just from the cold: a large group of soldiers greeted me with their imposing presence. Isarn might be playing the role of a vigilant warlord, but the overabundance of soldiers spoke volumes about his paranoia. Still, they were a formidable sight, their uniforms a mixture of elegance and intimidation. Each soldier wore a long, icy blue tunic of thick wool embroidered with delicate silver snowflakes. Over this they wore white, fur-lined cloaks, fastened at the shoulder with silver clasps in the shape of direwolves—the well-known beast form of our High Lord. 

Trying to shake off the thought of what Kallias would do to me if he discovered what I was doing, I shifted my attention back to the formation of the soldiers, the details of their armor gleaming in the pale light, silver breastplates intricately engraved with frost patterns and beasts, polished to a mirror-like finish that reflected the icy surroundings. 

I slightly nodded at the formation, heading to Isarn’s office. I raggedly filled my lungs and held my pendant before walking into my cursed fate. No fear. One deep breath. No hesitation. Another deep breath. I knocked once announcing myself, and opened the door.

❄❄❄❄❄❄

Isarn's office bore none of the elegance of the grand halls of the Citadel. The walls were adorned with detailed maps of Prythian, some marked by battle plans. Shelves lined one wall, filled with tomes on warfare, tactics, and the history of the Winter Court. Weapons of all kinds—swords, daggers, and axes—were meticulously displayed, the room was lit by a single obsidian chandelier, its dark crystals casting sharp light across the space. 

In the corner, a fireplace donned with a shiny grease black tile crackled with blue-tinged flames, the firelight casting eerie, flickering shadows across the room. The hearth was decorated with carvings of snarling beasts, and despite the warmth it provided, the fireplace only seemed to add to the cold, merciless atmosphere. A large desk dominated the center of the room, made of dark, polished ebony that looked almost black in the dim light. Behind it sat a high-backed chair, its design as austere and commanding as the man who occupied it. 

Despite his stature, the General's presence was overwhelming, his authority radiating with sheer force. He was a short, chubby male with skin so pale it almost appeared gray, the black ponds of ink he had for eyes missing nothing—a cold, calculating gaze that seemed to see through any facade. His gray hair, balding at the crown, was meticulously combed straight and sleek in a strict military fashion that only added to his stern demeanor. Dressed in the immaculate regalia of a warlord and topped with a prominently displayed black onyx blade, he projected an aura of intimidation and behest. I loathed this visit, though I was looking forward to hearing news of my mother.

"Sit down", he commanded in his screeching voice. 

"I’d rather stand", I spat back. An evil smile crossed his features. 

"Y/N… You’re in no position to negotiate, and I’m not in the mood for insubordination. Sit. the fuck. down". 

Prick.

My back tensed as I reluctantly sat in one of the chairs located in front of his desk, hands still in my pewter cloak’s pockets. 

"I hope, for yours and your mother’s sake, you’re not wasting my time."

I nervously looked at his chubby hands, adorned with rings shaped like bears, tapping rhythmically against his desk. Every other plump finger was wrapped in a band of platinum, a showy attempt to command respect, as if a reminder of his authority had to be displayed at all times, I thought. 

"The Night Court is heavily secured since Hybern’s attack," I began, trying to keep my voice steady. "Thanks to the Ancient One’s powers and the Cursebreaker defending the city, Hybern did not stand a chance." 

Isarn’s expression remained inscrutable as he leaned back in his chair, calculating. "Go on," he pressed, his voice a dangerous murmur.

I took a deep breath, the weight of the pendant around my neck grounding me. "Amren’s powers are… unlike anything I’ve ever heard of. She can seamlessly control mind and body, the Cursebreaker herself was impressed by her skills."

"What about that winged bastard? Did the treacherous High Lord reveal anything useful about their plans against Hybern?" he said in a mocking tone, each word a poisonous blade cutting through the tension in the room. 

I hesitated, the memory of Rhysand mentioning a book to Feyre flashing through my mind. I knew, I knew this was wrong, and I hated the thought of putting the Night Court at risk. But the desperate need to gain leverage gnawed at me. No, I couldn’t reveal this information before negotiating my mother’s release. "Where is my mother?" I asked, trying to shift the conversation.

Isarn’s eyes narrowed, and he stood, moving around his desk with the grace of a predator. "Information first," he said, his voice unyielding.

A power struggle unfolded as he circled me, each step calculated. "Your dear mother is expecting you to fulfill your side of the bargain." He hesitated for a second, carefully measuring his next words to avoid giving anything away. "And the Night Court is not your concern," he added with a tone of casual malice, as if the subject was of little importance to him. 

Interesting.

In a blink, he was beside me, and before I could react, I felt the cold touch of his onyx blade at the nape of my neck. Isarn was faster than I had anticipated, his military training evident in his swift, lethal movement.

I summoned a burst of chilling force to my upper body, just in case, trying to remain grounded. 

"Tell me… what you know," Isarn demanded, slowly pressing the blade harder against my neck.

I felt a warm liquid trickle down my back—he had pierced my skin. The pain was sharp, but the realization of my vulnerability was even more cutting. My wound was healing quickly, though the gash hurt like hell. 

He kept pressing with intent and what felt like... pleasure? I fought back tears until they finally broke. 

"I heard Rhysand and Feyre talking about a book the Ancient One is working on. It could be a weapon, I don't... I don't know anything else." 

Isarn’s smile was victorious as he released the blade from my neck. "A book?" His eyes gleamed with greed. "See, that wasn’t so hard, was it?" he taunted, his voice mocking and triumphant. Then the bastard licked my blood from the tip of the blade, never breaking eye contact. Repulsive, dishonorable, evil shred of a male. 

I forced a gag down my throat and kept an impassive expression on my face to avoid giving him a reaction, but I couldn’t wait to get out of there. I was disgusted, enraged, frustrated and tired. How much longer did we have to put up with this prick? From the moment I was recalled from the Boreal Retreat to the Citadel a few weeks ago, Isarn had made it his personal mission to humiliate me every chance he got. The Commander, Gods only knew how, had managed to convince Kallias to assign me to aid the Night Court, so I hadn't even had time to delegate my duties, and I often wondered how my patients at the Retreat were doing. 

Fortunately, a knock on the door interrupted my torment.

"Sir?" A soldier peeked his head in with hesitation and fear. He had been summoned by the Commander but clearly did not want to disturb him. He knew better than that.

"Alfson. Take the lady here to the lower chambers. Make sure she sees how her mother is being well cared for." Isarn snarled with disdain. Then he pinned me down with his resolute obsidian eyes as he reclined on his desk, their fixed stare anchoring me in place. 

"We are done here. You're to remain in the Night Court until I say otherwise, and you better not try any funny business." He tapped the ebony with his fat fingers, emphasizing the last three words. "I've got eyes and ears everywhere."

"I've got eyes and ears everywhere," I scoffed in my head. Honestly, what was his interest in the Night Court? 

What is your endgame, Commander?

A surge of strength coursed through me, a defiant fire igniting in my chest. While my resilience had always been a silent force, manifesting through actions rather than words, this newfound courage startled me. 

Before I could stop myself, the words tumbled out of my mouth.

"You mean Hybern’s?"

His head suddenly snapped up, a shadow crossing his face. Without warning, his hand lashed out, striking me across the face with a force that sent me reeling. The sting of his platinum rings bit into my skin, and before I could even touch my cheek to ease the pain, his gaze shifted to the soldier. With a slight nod and a silent command in his eyes, he conveyed his next order.

A sudden, searing pain exploded at the side of my head, and my world turned black.

The barren, snow-covered ground crunched beneath our feet as we searched for anything to stave off our gnawing hunger. It had been two weeks since my father had left us to fend for ourselves, his absences a common trial we had learned to endure. The biting wind whipped through my thin clothes, but I barely felt it, my focus solely on survival. 

I ran ahead of her, a small figure stood out a few meters away in the sea of whites and grays around us.

“Mama, look!”

We had stumbled upon a rabbit, its fragile body barely clinging to life. I looked at my mother with young, inexperienced eyes, searching in hers for an answer to the rabbit's pain, though knowing this could be our dinner. 

She knelt beside the animal, examining it with gentle hands despite the harshness of our surroundings. Her eyes, a blend of resolve and sorrow, met mine with a weight that belied her calm exterior. She cupped her hand on my left cheek, a mother's heart breaking at the lesson she was about to teach her little girl. 

"You must choose," she said gently, her voice trembling yet firm as strings of mist came out of her mouth. "Help it get better, or let it go peacefully. The decision is yours, my love."

Her tone carried not just the necessity of our survival, but a plea for understanding. 

I hesitated, the weight of the decision pressing down on my small shoulders. The rabbit's labored breaths filled my ears, and I felt a pang of empathy for the creature. But the growling of my stomach and the desperate look in my mother's eyes forced my hand. With trembling fingers, I reached out, knowing that this choice meant survival.

I closed my eyes for a moment, gathering my strength, then made the call. 

I snapped the flimsy neck, ending the rabbit’s suffering to provide us with a meal. The act felt heavy, its significance settling deep within me.

My mother’s gaze hardened as she stroked my hair and looked into my eyes. 

"You did good. Sometimes we must do not what our hearts desire but what our needs demand, without fear nor hesitation” 

Her words replaced the feeling of guilt and grief, they had etched themselves into my soul, becoming a cornerstone of my resilience and determination.

I bolted upright on the cold stone floor, my mother's voice echoing in my mind. The nightmare, the memory, had faded, but the longing for her warming presence remained.

As my senses returned, I realized I wasn't in my bed but in a dark, dank dungeon. The chains binding me were a deep, otherworldly blue, shimmering faintly in the dim light. Each link felt like liquid metal solidified into an unbreakable structure, wrapped tightly around my wrists and ankles. The subtle chill from their touch seeped into my bones, sapping my strength with powerful magic. 

I groaned as I tried to reach for the back of my head where an intense headache originated, pounding behind my eyes, likely from the blow Alfson had delivered in Isarn’s office. My vision was still blurry, but as I blinked rapidly trying to clear my sight, the full extent of my situation became painfully clear: I wasn't healing.

I struggled against the chains, my movements slow and sluggish. Each effort to free myself only seemed to tighten their grip. Panic began to set in, my breaths coming in quick, shallow gasps. Then, amidst the silence of the dungeon, a familiar whimpering voice reached me over the ringing in my ears.

Across the cell, through the dim light and shadows, I saw her. She was huddled in a corner, her once-vibrant form now frail and broken. 

No. No, no, no–

Tears welled up in my eyes as I realized the horror of her imprisonment. Isarn hadn't been keeping her in some quarters as I had hoped; all this time, she had been held captive in a dungeon cell. 

"My child," she murmured. 

It pained me to hear her voice barely audible carrying the weight of all the suffering she had endured.

"Mama," the call came from the bottom of my heart, out to my lips, hoarse and desperate. The sight of her, more than the chains, more than the cold, more than the headache, shattered my core. I fought against the bonds with renewed desperation, my mind racing to find a way to free us both. A thousand questions swirled in my mind, and I could see the same confusion and urgency reflected in my mother's eyes.

I breathed, trying to keep my voice steady, "I've been out assisting the Night Court."

Her eyes widened, a spark of shock briefly flickering through her weariness. I wanted to tell her everything, about the beautiful city of Starlight, the people I had met, the mission I had undertaken, about my mate, but there was no time. The sound of boots echoed faintly in the background, so I continued.

"Mama, I’ve been well, but I can't talk for long," I said, my words hurried. "They're coming."

She nodded, understanding the urgency. Despite her frail state, she reached out to me as if she could hold my hand from a distance. "Bjorn," she said, her voice dry and raspy, "he's been aiding me."

Bjorn. The mention of his name brought a flood of emotions. My uncle, my mentor, the one who had always been there for us. While my father abandoned us, Bjorn had stepped in, teaching me everything I needed to know to survive in this frozen hell. As the Captain of the border forces with the Autumn Court, he had been a figure of fortitude and tenacity, walking alongside me every step of the way, from treating soldiers in makeshift tents to becoming indispensable to the court. He was more of a father to me than my own ever was. 

"He sneaks in when he can... Isarn still doesn’t know," my mother continued in a whisper, forcing a gulp. "He doesn’t know you’re related. It’s our only advantage."

I nodded, tears welling in my eyes. The thought of seeing Bjorn again gave me a glimmer of hope. I had kept it together up to this point but gods knew I needed a lifeline. 

"Do what Isarn says for now, my love. Find Bjorn. He’s been looking for you, too."

My mother fought a cough, struggling to talk. As her eyes met mine, I silently pleaded with her to stop, to save her strength, but she pressed on, defying my unspoken request. 

"He mentioned tensions at the border are growing, and that he’s been looking for a way to undermine Isarn's influence, to exploit his vulnerabilities."

The sound of boots grew louder, the guards getting closer. Panic surged through me, but I held on to my mother’s words. "We’ll get through this," I promised. "I'll find Bjorn." As soon as Isarn grows bored of this hissy fit and sends me back to Velaris.

The Mother must’ve heard my prayers, as two soldiers finally approached the cell’s gate, each carrying a large bucket filled with what looked like water, and two thick linen cloths. This couldn’t be good.

"Rise and shine, ladies," one of them sneered.

Fuck, how long had it been?

The soldiers walked into the cell with a menacing air. "This is a mercy from the General, a little reminder." one of them said, his words dripping with that characteristic malice of Isarn’s personal guard.

Before I could react, they grabbed us and forced us to the cold stone floor. The first splash of icy water hit my face like a thousand needles, the shock making me gasp for air. The cloth was pressed over my face, and the torture began.

I struggled to breathe as they poured more water on me, each inhalation bringing it into my lungs. Panic and pain overwhelmed me as I heard my mother's muffled cries close by. I fought against the restraints, desperately trying to break free, but the chains held me fast.

Just when I thought I would drown, they stopped. I laid there, coughing and gasping for breath, my body trembling. The soldiers laughed, their eyes savoring their making.

"If you don’t comply with the General’s orders," one of them said, leaning down to whisper in my ear, "or if you dare to question him again, he will personally stab you both with faebane, bathe you in cold water, and leave you out to freeze to death."

The other soldier removed the dark indigo bonds and spat on my face.

“Scum.”

But I ignored it all as I crawled towards my mother, every movement a struggle. "Mama, please," I begged, "stay with me."

Darkness was closing in, my strength fading. The last thing I saw before losing consciousness was my mother’s frail form, her eyes filled with love and desperation. 

I drifted in and out of awareness as rough hands grabbed me, dragging me out of the dungeons. My body felt heavy, my limbs barely responding. Through blurred vision, I saw the dimly lit corridors of the lower levels of the Hailstone Citadel pass by, the cold seeping into my bones.

"Keep moving," one of the soldiers muttered, his grip tightening on my arm.

They hauled me through a hidden exit at the back of the citadel, into the freezing night. The biting wind stung my face, jolting me closer to full consciousness. They dragged me into the bailey, the snow crunching under their boots, until they finally dropped me unceremoniously onto the ground.

I laid there, shivering, hardly breathing. I had to move. Summoning the last of my strength to heal the tightness in my muscles, I pushed myself up, staggering towards the stables I knew were nearby. Each step was a battle as I reached a horse conveniently saddled, its breath visible in the cold air. I had always prided myself on being self-reliant, I’d been taught to never depend on a male for strength or comfort. But now, as my body temperature kept dangerously dropping, I found myself wishing for Cassian’s warmth, his strong arms wrapping around me. I held onto that feeling for solace, while focusing on mounting the animal. 

I urged the horse south, towards the Autumn Court border where I knew Bjorn was positioned. The ride was a blur of icy wind and snow-covered trees. I fought hard to stay awake and to listen to the rhythm of the horse’s gallop—it was the only thing keeping me from slipping back into unconsciousness.

When I finally reached the border at dawn, the outpost where Bjorn was stationed came into view. It was a watchpoint where the soldiers of the Winter Court kept an eye on the shifting lines between territories. Tents erected around a tall brick structure dotted the landscape as far as I could see, blending into the snow-covered ground.

A soldier approached as I dismounted, recognizing me from past encounters at the recovery camps. "Y/N," he greeted, his voice filled with concern as he saw my condition. He helped me unmount, his hands steadying me as I stumbled. 

"I have urgent business with the Captain," I muttered as I could.

The soldier nodded, understanding the urgency. "This way."

He tied the horse to a post and guided me through the site as I made my way to Bjorn's tent. The sounds and faces of the outpost, once familiar and comforting, now felt distant and blurred as if they were fading away. At last, we arrived at Bjorn's tent. The soldier stepped inside first, clearing his throat before speaking, "Captain, someone’s here to see you." I followed, my legs barely holding me up.

Bjorn turned around, shock registering on his face when he saw me. "Y/N," his voice broke, his eyes reflecting a mix of relief and worry. 

I couldn't contain my tears any longer. I ran to him, collapsing into his embrace. He wrapped me around tightly in a fatherly comfort I had longed for since I left for the Night Court.

As we stood there, memories of our time together surged through my mind. I recalled the countless hours we spent in the training grounds, his voice calm and steady as he instructed me on how to hold a blade, how to keep my balance even on treacherous ice. He drilled me in the military structure of the Winter Court, ensuring I understood the hierarchy and strategies that could one day save my life. 

His patience never wavered as he guided me in harnessing my healing powers, teaching me to channel my energy and focus it precisely where it was needed. Every lesson, every word of encouragement had shaped me into who I was today. He had been there for me in my darkest moments, offering his support and wisdom when I needed it most. Our familial tie was forged in those early days of hardship, and it had only grown stronger over the years.

"I thought I'd lost you," Bjorn whispered, his voice thick with emotion.

I pulled back, wiping my tears with the back of my hand. "My mother…" I pleaded, "she needs help."

Bjorn’s face set with resolve. "We’ll take care of her."

He turned and called for the soldier who had brought me to the tent. As the soldier approached, Bjorn drifted to his work table, quickly scribbling something on a piece of paper. He handed it to the soldier. "Take this to Eirik," he instructed. "He’ll know what to do."

The soldier nodded and swiftly left the tent, leaving me sighing with a sense of relief. Bjorn finally faced me, studying me with worry. 

"I look like hell, don't I?" I managed a weak smile.

Bjorn chuckled, a soft, affectionate sound. "You always did have a flair for understatement," he teased, his teal blue eyes scanning me for injuries. He quickly urged me to sit, gently helping me as I sank onto a nearby stool. As he helped me remove my wet cloak, no longer pewter but a light charcoal due to all the dirt, and my boots, he gazed at my wrists where they were still hurt. My powers were almost depleted.

When he took off my boots, he noticed the bargain tattoo. His lips pursed. "Your mother told me about..." He pointed at the tattoo with his chin. "When you left... I couldn't, I haven't forgiven myself. I should've been there for you. I'm sorry." 

I reached out for his arms, like I always did many, many times when I was younger and none of this mattered. 

"You had no way of knowing, and I won't let you carry the guilt of Isarn's doing," I whispered in our embrace.

I took a deep breath and slowly let go, still holding his hands. "I was in the Night Court, sent to work as a healer, but I was spying for Isarn. He..." I looked down at my wrists, cuts from the chains still open, "did not hold back when I returned. The moment I mentioned the King of Hybern, he snapped. I don't get it, why is he so interested in the Night Court?"

Bjorn's face hardened. "Because he’s an ambitious prick. I have spies within Isarn’s close circle. He's working with Hybern. He’s promised him the Winter Court in exchange for his help." 

He saw the blood leaving my face as my heart sank, waves of blame and dread suffocated me. 

Dear Mother. What have I done?

"Is that even possible?"

"The fool is a loyalist. He’d gladly sell his own pathetic life to bring back the days of human enslavement."

Weariness was creeping in. I hadn’t slept all night, though the gravity of the conversation was enough to keep my mind alert. 

"It gets worse," Bjorn continued. "Isarn plans to help Hybern destabilize the Night Court by kidnapping the Cursebreaker. Apparently Hybern wants to use her powers against all humans down the Wall, though we still don’t know how."

"Feyre... But why would Isarn do this?" 

Despite his cruelty, Isarn was a military commander through and through, his loyalty to the Winter Court woven into the very fabric of his being. Betrayal felt out of character.

Bjorn's eyes locked into mine, his demeanor to the brink of desperation. "Isarn has long harbored resentment towards Lady Viviane for commanding the Winter Court armies during Under the Mountain. He felt..." 

The soldier that brought me to the tent interrupted, bringing two steaming bowls of stew, the savory aroma filling the tent. 

"This might not be a feast, but it'll keep you going," he remarked while he offered me a shy smile, approaching me with a bowl.

Ever the overprotective parent, Bjorn grabbed both from his hands, dismissing the soldier with a nod, and continued. 

"He felt small and undermined—no surprises there." He winked at me conspiratorially. I would have laughed at the joke if the guilt within me wasn't drowning me.

"Especially after discovering Lady Viviane's leadership role. His supposed captivity by Hybern was a ruse; he was collaborating with them all along."

I felt a sickening twist in my gut. I lowered my head into my hands, resting them on my legs, overwhelmed by exhaustion and frustration, and unable to process any more information. Telling Isarn about the book had been a mistake. A grave mistake. But I couldn't burden Bjorn with the weight of my call, I'd rather keep him focused on my mother's well-being. Then there's the safety of my mate… I had to fix this. I knew what I had to do. 

"I have to go back to the Night Court." I uttered with a stammer. 

Bjorn's eyes blanked with a resolve that startled me, he’d seen right through me and instantly knew my intentions. He stood up and started pacing around the tent. 

"If you plan to share any information about Isarn and his plans with the Night Court, you need to be prepared, Y/N.”

He was right. If I approached Rhysand and Feyre, laying out everything I knew about Isarn while also proposing a solution, they could not only be warned but might also offer resources and intelligence to our advantage, in a joint effort. A pang of gratitude hit my core when I realized that, in the rush of the moment, Isarn wasn’t too specific with the terms of the bargain. 

A fool, indeed. This might just work. 

I felt a hint of pride in my chest.

"Not bad for an old captain," I winked at him, and replied with a smirk when I shared my conclusion. 

"I'll need to devise a plan that ensures Isarn can't retaliate. If I can present them with a strategy to counter his, they may be able to support us."

Bjorn agreed, his expression serious. 

"Exactly. They have as much at stake as we do."

He slowly leaned towards me, placed a reassuring hand on my shoulder and looked me in the eyes, his gaze full of emotion. I knew this moment would come once more, the moment we part without knowing when we’ll see each other again, but I wasn’t ready to say goodbye. It seemed like all we had now were these fleeting moments, and there was still so much I wanted to share with him.

"You can do this, Y/N. But remember, you must keep up the facade with Isarn until the very end. Any slip, and he will come down on you hard. On both of you.”

"I understand," I said firmly, taking his calloused hands in mine. 

Then he searched my eyes for the tenacity he'd taught me to maintain in these situations, and found another emotion seeping in instead.

A longing for the male I'd been relentlessly pushing away, leaving him behind at the Night Court.

"Alright, spill it, child. What’s going on?" Bjorn pressed, his gaze unwavering.

I hesitated, my thoughts a whirlwind. I wanted to tell him about Cassian, but how could I explain this to Bjorn when Cassian himself didn't know about the mating bond? Not that I was planning to tell him either. 

The risk of exposing such a deeply personal truth made me feel incredibly vulnerable. Still, I wanted him to know. I needed his guidance and support, now more than ever.

"I..." I started, struggling to find the right words. "There’s someone at the Night Court. Someone... important to me."

Bjorn's thick eyebrows burrowed, but he waited patiently for me to continue.

"I think... I think I've found my mate. He's very well known and a person of trust in the Night Court. He doesn't know though, about the bond."

Bjorn's lips drew a line. 

Oh, Gods. 

I hadn't been this nervous since the first time I met Kallias. I forced a swallow down my throat and continued, the words coming out of my mouth in a hurried tirade like a child who had been caught being naughty.

"I cannot, will not risk this mission for a male I barely know, though," I continued, determination hardening my voice despite the pounding in my heart. "There's too much at stake, and I need to focus on what matters now."

Bjorn’s lips twitched, and for a moment, I saw the familiar glint of mischief in his eyes. 

"So, you’re just telling me now that you found your mate?" he said, a teasing lilt in his voice. "And here I thought you were keeping all your secrets from me."

Despite the tension, a small smile crept across my face as I lowered my chin and looked at my bare foot. "It's not like that."

He chuckled, shaking his head. "Oh, I know, child. I’m just teasing. But seriously, a mate? And an important one in the Night Court, no less,” his hands reaching his hips. “You sure know how to pick them."

I mentally sighed as all the light-hearted taunting eased some of the anxiety gnawing at my insides. 

"I didn’t exactly choose this, you know." 

Bjorn’s expression turned more serious, though the warmth didn’t leave his eyes. "I admire your determination, Y/N. And I’m happy for you, really. But you need to be cautious. Especially if he’s a significant figure in the Night Court."

He elbowed me with complicit eyes, "Can I know who this significant other, I mean, figure is?"

I rolled my eyes, tempted to fall into more of his tease but instead I hesitated, thinking about the answer. 

"You’ll know, Bjorn. In time. If everything goes well after Isarn is dealt with. For now, we move forward with the plan."

Bjorn nodded, understanding the boundary. "Fair enough. Just promise me you’ll be careful. And be smart. Remember your training."

"I promise," I said, knowing that I would cling to those words when the moment demanded it. I stood there for a moment, trying to hold on to this precious instant with him. His concern for me was evident, and it mirrored the worry I felt for him. 

"Good," he replied with a reassuring smile. Bjorn’s blue eyes softened as he pulled me into a tight embrace. The familiar scent of mist and pine enveloped me, grounding me in the moment. 

“Please be strong, petal,” he murmured, his tone carried a hue of anguish. I nodded against his shoulder, blinking back the tears that threatened to fall upon hearing the affectionate nickname he’d given me since I was a child. “I will.”

We pulled back slightly, our hands still clasped together. His rough palms were a comforting anchor in the storm of emotions swirling inside me. I looked into his eyes again and recognized the unspoken devoted love that had always been there. 

"This isn't goodbye," I said softly, squeezing his hands. "Please keep her safe. Who knows, the next time we meet I may bring some allies, Mother willing."

"I'll hold you to that. Now go," he held my chin up gently, with a caress. "Go back to the Night Court and show them what you're made of," his eyes shone with affection. 

With a final nod, I gathered my now somewhat-dry cloak, and some clean clothes and supplies for the journey he'd packed for me. 

Before I walked out of the tent, he called after me.

"He better be good with a sword."

I hid a grin, knowing the answer. "Something like that."

taglist:

@bravo-delta-eccho @yamisuke @randomperson1234sblog @anxious-cactus @lilah-asteria  @darkbloodsly @wirdbeimaufhebengebunden

dividers by @estrelinha-s

[thewickedspinster]

The Protector & the Prince (Aedion Ashryver x Reader)

a/n: this character and plotline has been in my head ever since i read throne of glass, so i'm lowkey thinking of making this a series? to explore the character and also her relationship with aedion? because there is a criminally low amount of aedion love out here (i'm happy to provide). lmk your thoughts in the comments!

content: aedion x fem!reader, aelin x reader platonic, rowan whitethorn ofc, spoilers for empire of storms & kingdom of ash, slight au where reader is taken by maeve instead of aelin

requested by anon

The Protector & the Prince

The dawn was chill and damp against your cheeks. Dew rose from the meadow below, kissing your hair and skin. Welcoming you home.

In the rocky hollow behind you, the Bane packed up camp. They were battle-weary, exhausted to the bone after years of fighting in the mountains. Last night at dusk, when the company had stopped, you had just been able to make out the spires of Orynth across the next hill. It had been a trial in will to halt, to take stock, to rest before making the final push across the Staghorns.

Today, you would return to the home you had been forced to abandon, to the people you called your own. To your queen. To your friends. The war had been won, they said. Word had come over the mountains in the form of a white-tailed hawk; the king himself had come to find you and call you home. He had said his queen commanded it.

Against your will and better judgement, the memories of the past decade flowed freely as you and your company hiked down into the vale, then up the other side, crossing the last line of mountains. The loss of Aelin, the fall of Orynth, the Assassin's Guild, the land of Erilea, the return of magic, and the nightmares of war. Yet by midday, Terrasen unfolded before you, green and golden as ever. Your heart strained against its cage, and the Bane's pace hastened to the city's gates.

When you had last seen this city, it had been white and glistening, a kingdom in its prime. You were but nine years old, a nameless child with no family, no wealth, who had been taken in by King Orlon, of all people, to guard his young niece and heir, Aelin Galathynius. Since, your fae lineage had been revealed, and his choice in you had become clearer; only you could have followed Aelin to the ends of the earth as you did. Only you could have kept her safe.

Now, Orynth was rebuilding. The people had begun to return, but their wariness was palpable as they turned from their work to observe the Bane walking down the main thoroughfare. Some bowed, but there was no fanfare. There was little room for celebration as the dust of war settled, and the work began.

Your mind was a muted whirlwind of thoughts. You had little idea what to expect upon seeing Aelin. You hadn't seen her since the day on the beach, when you had been taken by Maeve in her place. The war done, you no longer knew your place.

Besides all this, your heart pounded for entirely different, unwelcome reasons.

Aedion would be here.

Aedion, Aelin's cousin, the Wolf of the North, fearsome general and protector of a fallen kingdom, had always been your best friend. Your first friend in Orynth, the lifeline you held onto while training with Arobynn. Your closest confidant. The only person you needed. And gods, did you need him now, with the uncertainties rising and the past creeping in... As you approached the towering doors to the castle, you actually considered whether you could do this.

The walk up the sweeping marble steps took a millennium. Untouched, no one had been able to steal their grandeur, though the great doors were still missing. One step over the mighty threshold, two steps, and you had yet to collapse. Three steps, and you were blindsided, barreled into with such force you stumbled.

"Y/N," came Aelin's shaky breath in your ear. She clutched you close, her fingers digging into your leathers. You clung to her in turn, holding her as tightly as you could, breathing in the smell of her, free of blood and iron. "You made it."

"Hi," you laughed breathlessly. "Gods, Aelin. Hi."

And suddenly, everything was entirely right in the world. You were home. You were with your best friend. You had made it.

Reluctantly, Aelin let you go and addressed your company. The Bane, ever having been Aedion's to command, had been given to you in the wake of your return to the continent. You had earned their respect, earned your place as their general. But they were, of course, Aelin's to command. Her arm still around you, she thanked them and dismissed them.

Before you knew it, you'd been swept up to a grand chamber, Aelin with you, to wash and eat. Your head swirled with the welcome, with the shock of being back in this place you'd once called home. She spoke softly, bringing news of Rowan, Chaol, Dorian, Elide, and Manon. She skirted talk of fighting, of that day on the beach, and for that, you were grateful.

"How is Lysandra?" You asked, pulling a comb through your wet hair. The sun was setting, but you would luxuriate in this time with Aelin for as long as she'd allow. "I heard she became a sea dragon."

"She did. That, and more." Aelin laid out a tunic on the bed for you, and it all felt too much like evenings at the Guild, preparing for grand soirées (and murders). "Her and Aedion have finally made up. Thank the gods for that - the tension was borderline unbearable."

Your eyes flicked to hers in the mirror, but only just. You blamed the exhaustion for the way your heart stuttered. "I'm glad to hear it. One big happy family, right?"

She snorted. "Yeah, a right happy home we've got."

A knock came on the door, and a servant entered, summoning Aelin to her council chamber. The young queen groaned, but you saw how she straightened - how the mantle settled on her shoulders in a way that no longer looked entirely unbearable. She turned to you, saying, "You should rest, Y/N. Eat up here, and we'll talk more tomorrow."

You turned to look at her in full, smiling faintly, strained. "Tomorrow."

Your queen disappeared. In the sudden dimness of twilight, you were alone.

But, you supposed, there was a tomorrow. That alone was enough to help you breathe.

~~~

Dawn came too early. Despite your fatigue, you'd hardly slept. First, it was the dreams. Then, it was the contemplation. Would Aelin send you away? What would she have you do in service of her court? Would you even have a place? As a demi-fae of no noble birth and little standing, all you had was your training. Your violence.

You supposed that was worth something.

It was what drove you down to the training yard in the gray light before the sun, moving through the familiar dance of swordwork. Before long, sweat poured down your spine. As the sun rose over the yard, more soldiers came to train, though they hardly had a swordmaster to tutor them. Quietly, you placed your weapons back on the racks and slipped away, unnoticed.

It was down the second stone corridor you turned, then, that you first heard the soft laughter, the hushed tones.

"Isn't it too early for this?" A gasp, a giggle. "Surely there's a better place."

"No one will come down here. Besides, it's never too early for this."

You stopped dead. You knew that voice. You'd know that voice anywhere. You'd heard it in your dreams. You'd followed it in your darkest moments, guiding you home.

You turned on your heel and stalked in the opposite direction, chest aching, as the sounds of Aedion and Lysandra's tryst faded behind you.

~~~

Aelin had called a meeting for midmorning, and you were notified last moment. You were still straightening your fancy new attire - silver, threaded with dark vines - as you entered the privy chamber. It was nearly exactly as you remembered. Eerily exact, as it was. You kept thinking you'd see King Orlon leap out from behind the curtains to say it had all been a cruel jest.

Luckily, you'd had plenty of time to right yourself, as Aedion was embarrassingly late. Though you knew the likely reason why, you kept your mouth firmly shut, instead braiding your hair and reporting to Rowan Whitethorn on the state of the Bane. When that was through, and only then, did the doors open once more, and Prince Aedion swept in, not a hair out of place.

"Forgive the delay, Aelin," he said softly when his cousin gave him an arch look. "There were... urgent matters to attend to in the yard."

Rowan grunted, "Those soldiers need a proper swordmaster."

"Which is why we're all here," Aelin said, as if it were obvious. She was clearly bored with the court business, but she looked between you and Aedion as though she were expecting something... more. After an awfully long pause, she continued. "Now that we're all together again, I figured some rearranging of duties is in order. Aedion, the Bane are yours, should you want them. And Y/N, my Queensguard is yours."

Aedion looked satisfied, but you were rooted to the spot with shock. "Aelin, your Queensguard? Why not have Chaol do it, or something?"

"Because Chaol has his own wife, child, and parcel to handle."

"You're more capable," Rowan chimed. "Wouldn't have anyone else protecting my wife."

"I'd also like you to be my envoy to Rifthold, for the time being." You actually had to take a seat. The closest one was a large armchair adjacent to Orlon's massive, ancient desk. "You know the city - and the affairs of Adarlan - better than any of us. And Dorian asked for you. You're a far better diplomat than I ever was."

"You were simply never a diplomat," Aedion said flatly, but his attention was fixed on you. Had been since he entered the room.

"Thanks, I know." Aelin flipped her hair over her shoulder, perching on the edge of her uncle's desk. "Much more of a decisive type, don't you think? Anyways, Y/N, would you accept both positions?"

You truly had to think a moment. You were reeling, your breath coming shortly. You had feared that Aelin wouldn't have work for you, and now, you were to captain her Queensguard and act as envoy to Adarlan? The responsibility almost seemed too much to take on.

Without thought, you glanced over to Aedion, who was still watching you. You caught his scent as you did so, and the desire to launch yourself into his arms after so long apart, after such hardship, after thinking you'd both die, took your breath away. But he was steady as he watched you, and as he nodded once.

You returned it. Rose, squared your shoulders, and bowed to your queen. "I'd be honored to accept both charges."

Aelin and Rowan shared a glance this time, before Aelin said, "Don't answer right now, Y/N, but there was something else I wanted to ask." You quirked a brow. "If you'd join me, I'd have you as one of my bloodsworn. You've followed me through everything, given up everything for me, and there is no one I can count more loyal than you. I would have you by my side, in all things."

The blood drained from your head, but you felt uncommonly steady. You couldn't give her an answer, but you could reassure her that you weren't going anywhere.

You stepped forward and wrapped your arms around her, and she returned the embrace fiercely, burying her face in your shoulder. "My path has always been beside yours. Past and future. Not going anywhere."

Aelin lifted her head, eyes teary and brilliant. "Never again."

Flashes of the smell of iron, the taste of iron, the smothering of iron. Of a cell, of shattered realities, of a white wolf. They haunted your sleeping and waking moments. Had consumed you for so long.

The meeting was, for all intents and purposes, over. After parting, you gave barely a fleeting glance at Aedion, unable to deal with that emotional disaster at present, and strode from the room, already calling for all soldiers to report immediately to the yard.

You had work to do.

~~~

A month had passed, and your life was consumed with dust, sweat, the grunting of fighters, and the clash of steel on steel. You had selected a Queensguard from the soldiers who'd been in the city, but training them was something else entirely. They'd all seen combat in the war, of course, but that didn't mean they even knew how to swing a sword without tearing a muscle. It had been nigh on ten years since Orynth had had an organized militia of any kind. You were starting from scratch.

The men and women you'd selected were, of course, learning quickly. You wouldn't have chosen them if you didn't think them trainable. But they were reaching a plateau, and their progress was slowing. You were spending long hours training under the blistering sun, and even longer hours planning rotations and the coverage of major events in the castle. Aelin needed two guards with her at all times, and given the state of the Queensguard at present, you hardly trusted any of the new additions to protect her without you present.

Aelin's queendom was in its infancy, making it particularly fragile. Anyone could come for her - or the king - in an effort to change the political balance. It was something you couldn't chance, even if both king and queen could protect themselves admirably on their own.

All that being said, it was well into the evening, and you couldn't recall the last time you'd slept more than three hours. Or eaten a meal, actually. You sat back and threw down your quill, rubbing at your eyes. They'd grown weak and scratchy as you wrote by candlelight. The moon hardly helped, casting a silvery glow across the floor of your chambers.

A knock came at the door, and you didn't bother to sit up before calling, "Come!"

"Prince Aedion, Commander Y/L/N," the servant said. A second later, Aedion stepped in, shutting the door behind him in the servant's face.

You were still, watching him from under your brows as he approached your desk.

He stopped before you. "You look like hell."

"Thanks."

"That's a compliment."

"An absolute charmer, you are."

"I only mean to say you've been working hard. Aelin appreciates it."

"I know she does."

He suddenly looked like he was at a loss for words, something he hadn't been around you for... ever.

"Have you slept?" He finally managed.

"Do I look like it?" You gestured to your desk. "Lots to do. And I'm due in Rifthold next week."

"Are you going to take the blood oath?"

You sighed. "Don't you have something more useful to do than interrogate me?"

"I don't, actually," he snapped back, anger sparking. "Nothing more important than making sure you're alright."

"Funny, I thought you had a kingdom to defend. My mistake."

"The Bane are getting well-deserved rest. And thank to you, they're in top shape." He crossed his arms. "You led them well."

"I'd assume you'd know that, considering it was you who wanted me to lead them."

"Only because you needed something to do that would keep you safe."

Silence swallowed you whole as you stared at him. Fury turned your chest cold, your fingers numb. "Keep me safe?"

"You had no business being near the final battle for Terrasen," he snapped back. "Considering what you went through at Maeve's hands, you couldn't have been ready."

"So you sent me to babysit your troops?" You hissed, rising to your feet abruptly. "Are you serious, Aedion?"

Aedion sighed, exasperated. He held out placating hands. "This is going all wrong, Y/N. I'm not trying to upset you. I'm trying to make sure you're okay."

"What, because I was tortured? I can assure you, I'm a big girl. I can handle a few nightmares."

"Because I can hardly believe that you've healed," he nearly shouted. You leaned back. He said, quieter, "Because I know you haven't. You're throwing yourself into work to distract yourself. But it won't work forever."

He couldn't know just how right he was. It hurt, like a raw blister, the way he saw right through you. The way you wished you could bare your soul to him, let him comfort you, let him take care of you. You'd never had that, but you'd only ever wanted it from him. Your jaw was tight with hurt, and with fury.

"I gave you command of the Bane because I needed someone I could trust in the Staghorns. No one else could have earned their respect as you did." Aedion's gaze softened. "And selfishly, I wanted to keep you safe."

"I can take care of myself," you said, rather childishly.

"I know that."

"I don't need you to look after me. Not when you have other people to worry about."

The last had slipped out, unbidden, and you immediately cursed yourself for even saying it. Straight away, Aedion knew. His eyes sharpened, and you were glad to have the desk between you as his eyebrows rose.

"Lysandra," he said simply.

You stared back at him. "It's only natural."

"What? That I... frolicked with her, or that you're jealous of it?"

You scoffed. "'Frolicked?'" Seriously, Aedion? Are we twelve again?"

"We may as well be, for how well I feel I know you right now."

"You've known how I've felt about you for ages, Aedion. I know you have. You're blind, but you're not that stupid."

"Well thank you for that," he said, anger entirely abated. The snark of his remark missed its target. "Honestly, I only knew because Aelin told me."

"She told you back in Rifthold. I know. Before Arobynn was dead. Before I was free of him. Right in the midst of a shadow war." You gave a one-shouldered shrug. "But you always knew me best, Aedion. You had to have known before. But whether you did simply doesn't matter."

"How could it not?"

You straightened under his piercing stare, under the question in his eyes. "Because I have a job to do, and so do you. Aelin will always come before me, and I would never let anything, even you, come before her."

Aedion's mouth curved into a sad smile. "I know that."

Put off by the starkness of his honesty, you added, "And to be clear, I wouldn't be jealous of Lysandra. Her and I have been through enough. She's beautiful, and more than that, she's good. You deserve her."

"Lysandra has gone to Wendlyn."

"What?"

"We... I thought we'd gotten over the deception leading up to you being taken by Maeve, but we hadn't. She requested to leave, and Aelin gave her a job across the sea."

You were dumbfounded. So much so that you had to sit down. Lysandra, Aelin, and yourself had been the only ones to know of your plan to glamour yourself before arriving on the beach that day to greet Maeve's forces. As demi-fae, you had few powers, but one of the strongest was casting glamours. It was part of why you'd been so successful as an assassin at the Guild. Glamoured as Aelin, you'd been the one to be taken that day to Doranelle.

Anything for Aelin. Anything. Always.

Your voice shook as you said, "I will not be your second choice, Aedion."

"I'm not asking you to be," he murmured. "I'm asking you if you're alright."

Nearly. You nearly bent and broke, straight into him. Your mouth wobbled, but you managed to stand straight as you whispered, "I don't know who I am, now the bloodshed has stopped." When he said nothing, you drew a deep breath and continued. "Which means I'll keep fighting until I can sleep through the night."

"That's not how this works," he said evenly, and finally, he reached out, stopping himself just as his fingers grazed your sleeve. "You don't get to do this on your own, Y/N. We've always done this together - let me help you."

"You couldn't understand, Aedion."

And it was true. The things you'd gone through at Maeve's hands, at Arobynn's before her, no one could understand, least of all this prince. But as he touched you, for the first time in years, you felt your will against him falter.

You could have him, you thought. He's right there.

"Let me try," he breathed. His gold-rimmed eyes were desperate, soulful. Full of something you'd hardly dared admit to seeing before. Before Lysandra, when it was just you and him against the world. Desire. Admiration. Love? "Let me take care of you, Y/N. You've spent your whole life caring for us. Let me shoulder the burden, just for a little while."

The space stretched between you and Aedion, infinite. A breath. There was the truth, you realized. And you whispered:

"I'm scared, Aedion."

"I know, sweetheart."

He sensed it before it happened, and was around the desk in an instant, even as you fell back into your chair. Your breath came shortly, your chest crushed beneath the iron vice of memory. You'd failed to realize what it was to be rid of the constant routine of fight or flight, and now, that freedom came crashing down upon you as a wave, crushing your breath into teary gasps of air. Into sobs.

But Aedion was there, perched next to you, drawing you as close to him as he could. He pressed his mouth to your hair, your temple, your cheek, murmuring that he had you. That he was sorry. That Lysandra was only ever a distraction. That he'd loved you since you were children. That he had you. That he wouldn't let you go.

That you were safe now.

When the sobs subsided, you managed to lift your head, to look up at him through bloodshot eyes. He gazed on you fondly, his own eyes limned in silver. His hand smoothed over your hair, a gentle caress.

"You are the strongest female I have ever known," he murmured. "You may feel lost now, but we'll take this on together. Alright?"

"You have some explaining to do," you replied with half-hearted severity. "Frolicking with Lysandra isn't entirely forgiven, I'll have you know."

"Figured it wouldn't be."

"But... Together?"

"As it's always been, Y/N." He leaned in, pressing his forehead to yours. "I swear."

"I'll hold you to it."

"Wouldn't expect anything less from my most fearless warrior."

You smiled, and leaned up just enough to take him by surprise, kissing him softly. With the tenderness of ten years of longing, of ten years of sacrifice and love.

He tasted of beginnings.

[blueiscoool]

2,700-Year-Old Urartu bronze Shields and Helmet Discovered in Turkey

Three bronze shields and a bronze helmet dedicated to Haldi, the chief god of the Urartians, were discovered during excavations at the Ayanis Castle in Van province in eastern Türkiye.

The discovery was announced on the social media account of Mehmet Nuri Ersoy, Minister of Culture and Tourism.

Ayanis Castle was built on a rocky hill close to Ağartı village whose old name was “Ayanis” and situated on the east bank of Lake Van, 38 km east of the capital Tuşpa.

Ayanis Castle, where the temple of Haldi, one of the most intact Urartian temples, is located, was built by the last great King of Urartu, Rusa II, in the mid-7th century BC. Written evidence shows that the fortress was destroyed by a major earthquake and associated fires 20 to 25 years after its construction.

In the Ayanis Castle, known to be the last castle of the Urartu Kingdom, the archeological excavations are ongoing since 1989. The excavations were conducted under the presidency of Prof. Dr. Altan Çilingiroğlu within the scope of Ege University “Van Project” until 2012. The studies are rendered by Prof. Dr. Mehmet Işıklı, associate in the Archeology Department, Literature Faculty, Atatürk University since 2013.

For the last few seasons, the excavation team has been trying to uncover the structures associated with the Haldi Temple in the citadel. In the 2024 excavation season, three bronze shields and a bronze helmet dedicated to Haldi, the chief god of the Urartians, were unearthed. The artifacts found during the excavations in the monumental temple complex dedicated to the god Haldi reflect the richness of Urartian metalwork.

Prof. Dr. Mehmet Işıklı said in his statement, ‘In this year’s excavations, we unearthed 3 bronze shields and 1 helmet, which were found in very good condition. The shields and helmet are dedicated to Haldi, the chief god and god of war. As you know, Ayanis Castle suffered a great earthquake. Because of this earthquake, there is a big collapse caused by the mudbrick walls. many artifacts are deformed because of this. but the artefacts found are in very good condition because they were found on the floor of the room at a depth of about 6-7 meters. Of course, we have some minor fractures and we will complete these with restoration and conservation.’

“There is also a bronze helmet among the artifacts found. We guess that it is a decorated and ceremonial helmet. Because we can see some decorations now, of course, it will be possible to see these ornaments and decorations more clearly after a comprehensive restoration and conservation,” he added.

Professor Işıklı stated that there is strong evidence that the site was used by a royal and religious elite group. After 36 years of excavations, the Ayanis fortress has yielded a rich collection of bronze artifacts, especially bronze weapons. To date, more than 30 bronze shields have been unearthed during the excavations of the castle.

By Leman Altuntaş.

[cherr-22]

TNGDH 27

“I’m going to die…….”

Literally. My legs were so sore that I couldn’t feel them anymore. My vision blurred and all I could see was the earthy brown color of the ground everywhere.

To think riding a horse was this strenuous. It’s the horse that’s running, and yet why am I the one getting tired? Because the ground was uneven, I even felt nauseous. Please…… save me.

“Hang on a little bit more.”

Kyle comforted me when he heard me groan.

Of course, it didn’t comfort me. Thinking how many more hours I’d have to ride the horse later today, I felt anxious to cancel ‘Summon’ and go back to the hamster house to rest.

Phew. Such is my life. This strange, tiring life.

Glumly holding onto the reigns, I heard a loud caw above me. The Northern crows circled around in the sky, making it feel unpleasant.

“Why is it crying out loud? Such bad luck.”

“……Do you normally express it as ‘crying’?”

“If it can’t talk, then I’d say it would be crying.”

I answered grumpily and lowered back my head to focus on the road ahead.

Beyond the castle and plains was a forest full of coniferous trees. There were many ravines here and there, so the terrain was not easy to travel across. The path could only fit two horses side by side.

“Don’t worry too much about it.”

Kyle must’ve been worried after seeing my expression.

“Since this is only a reconnaissance with the new knights, we will only briefly check the forest before heading back. Cases where we go beyond the small mountain besides during subjugations or investigations are rare.”

“A small mountain……?”

You call this a small?

I clicked my tongue as I looked at the cliff stretched out in the distance.

“What is there beyond that cliff?”

“Are you talking about the types of demonic beasts?”

“Oh, no. Rather than demonic beasts…… are there any villages or anything.”

Upon asking, Kyle laughed as if what he heard was nonsense.

“The Blake estate is the only place in the North where people can survive. Well, I’m sure there would be villages where the demonic beasts gather instead.”

“……That doesn’t sound very amusing. Then what are there geographically?”

“Over this mountain is a vast rocky plain with chunks of ice and rocks here and there. Beyond that is a large mountain, and beyond the large mountain is the sea.”

He lifted his sleeve over my face to shield it from the strong winds. It felt so natural that I accepted it without a second thought.

I tilted my head and glanced up at him. Seeing how he didn’t even bat an eyelid at the harsh wind, he must’ve been used to the cold.

“I rarely go beyond the frozen sea. It’s difficult to go and there is nothing good there.”

Even if the sea is frozen, isn’t it just a regular sea? What was so different and difficult about it?

“Why is that? Is it a lawless zone or something?”

“Yes. It’s not a place that the Meinhardt Empire could even handle. Beyond that sea, even I would have to risk my life.”

Just what exactly is there?

I thought about various possibilities and then the system that has been quiet until now popped up.

[Beyond the Northern Sea is an area called the ‘Magician’s Domain’.]

‘The Magician’s Domain, huh. It sounds pretty tame when hearing the name alone…….’

But that didn’t look to be the case seeing Kyle’s expression. Well, I could think about it later. It’s not like I’ll go there today.

“Your Highness. Should we return to the northeast pathway?”

Hearing the voice from behind, Kyle paused for a moment and measured the distance.

The road ahead branched out into two paths. One appeared to be a road going up the hill to northeast and the other going down to the canyon in the northwest.

The knights murmured to each other in relief and anxiety by hearing the word ‘northeast’. 

Kyle said in a heavy tone.

“The area where the wyvern nest has not been resolved yet. Also, currently it is mating season so we must avoid northeast. Everyone, take a detour to the western canyon!”

……If it’s a detour, does that mean this reconnaissance would take more time?

I nervously checked the remaining time in ‘Summon’.

[‘Summon’ will be canceled in 20 minutes.]

It won’t be good if I suddenly disappear in the middle of the canyon……. Sigh. Today will be the day I use up all my Miracle Points.

I quickly bought a cookie from the Nut Store.

[Long-Lasting Acorn Cookies ｜Miracle Points 1% consumption ｜ Extend duration of ‘Summon’ by 1 hour]

[Current Miracle Value 25.0%]

Hopefully, I could keep my points above 20% by the end of this expedition. Meaning, I’d prefer to return back to the estate within six hours.

I quietly glanced at Kyle and took out the cookie from my pockets. Crunch. Kyle glanced back upon hearing the sound of me eating.

“Why are you trying to eat so secretly?”

Your ears are quite sharp. Couldn’t you have pretended not to hear anything?

“It is my life.”

That was 100% the truth.

“I sure get to hear a lot of interesting things from you.”

Of course, Kyle thought of it as a joke.

I’m telling you, it’s the truth. An acorn cookie I bought with the cost of my life. Although it’s savory, it leaves the mouth a little dry after you finish eating it…….

“Anyways, it means that I’m not going to share it with you.”

Kyle’s red eyes blankly stared at me as if he were surprised.

“It’s fine. More importantly…….”

He lightly squeezed my chin and turned it to the side. I muttered, “What is it,” as I glanced around in the direction Kyle pointed out using my face.

“Over there. Do you see those forest bushes?”

My eyes that were once wandering around aimlessly stopped on something sparkling in the bushes. Several pairs of round eyes gazed towards our direction.

They were furry animals that could be held within two hands. Smaller than a dog, but a little larger than a mouse. There was a short horn on its forehead between its round ears.

It was an animal I have never seen before, and yet it felt strangely familiar…….

“Those are the Northern field mice.”

What?

“That is what they would look like after growing a mana stone in their heart. They are a little small compared to other Northern demonic beasts though.”

That’s not right. Normally a mouse that size would be considered very large.

“They are quite tame if you don’t bother them first. It was around this area where I first met Cashew.”

Kyle’s tone of voice instantly went soft. His expression gradually softened as he thought of the cute squishy demonic beast waiting for him at the castle……

Forget about It. Can’t you see that the cute and squishy demonic beast is suffering here right now due to muscle pains.

[Currently Possessing Hearts ｜ ❤×198]

Cancel what I said earlier.

Think about me a lot. Just two hearts worth more.

“Should I try finding a mate for it…….”

……Huh. Wait, what did you just say?

Immediately, I yelled as he was mumbling.

“No!”

“…….”

“Most definitely not. To think about copulating demonic beasts!”

“Northern field mice are usually quite active.”

“Those are the Northern mice. Cashew is a domestic demonic beast. It has been developing slow and hasn’t even developed a magic stone yet. What if you pair it up and it ends up getting eaten by its pair?

I have no intention of sharing my house no matter how big it may be. Roommates are absolutely forbidden.

“Sure, you can adopt another one if you want to see Cashew dead the next day.”

If that day ever comes, I will kill you myself and run away from here. You understand?

Kyle nodded in disappointment under my intense gaze.

“……That makes sense. I understand. As soon as I get back, I shall have a meeting with the magicians to plan on injecting mana energy.”

I hope there won’t be any side effects from doing that.

Would I look like a fraud if I say that there is no need to inject mana? I looked at him with a wistful expression and then looked at the group of mice.

‘I wonder if I am not a normal, typical hamster?’

To not have a mana stone inside the heart and to not have any visible growth. I suspect I will never be able to grow as big as those mice over there……

“As expected…….”

Kyle made comparisons with the Northern field mice.

“There is none as cute as Cashew.”

Just like a hamster otaku.

[Currently Possessing Hearts ｜ ❤×200]

Still, as long as you’re happy.

Thanks to that, I could buy the Demonic Beast Encyclopedia. I pretended to stretch my arms and took out the encyclopedia.

“Now, let’s see…….”

“What is that?”

“A necessary textbook for a demonic beast specialist, the Demonic Beast Encyclopedia. This book was bought off from my diligent teacher who also had a bit of a grumpy personality.”

[┗|｀O′|┛]

What, why. It’s the truth. You ate up all my Hearts so be quiet.

Kyle slowed down the horse to let me read the book comfortably. The deeper we went into the canyon, the darker our surroundings became. The knights changed their formation and turned on their lights.

Let’s see…….

“Goblin, ogre, wyvern…… bear, unicorn? There’s quite a variety of beasts. Northern poisonous snake, forest eel? Why is there an eel in the forest?”

There are really a lot of strange things in this world. Korea was truly an ordinary place in comparison.

“Oh, here it is. Northern field mice.”

The word ‘field mice’ caught Kyle’s attention.

“The Northern field mice is one of the less threatening species, boasting mediocre physical abilities…… wow, isn’t this a bit too harsh?.”

System, can’t you do your work properly? Do you want to be sent to the sky?

This is definitely a revenge on me.

[（￣︶￣）]

“And?”

“The process of developing a mana stone is more complicated than other demonic beasts, but once it develops it, it could use simple magic. Generally of the earth magic……”

I then shut my mouth. It was because an ominous premonition passed through my mind.

You won’t be making me learn some kind of magic later, right? I’m already quite sad to have become a hamster…

[(⊙ˍ⊙)]

‘No, why do you have such a surprised expression…….’

Bang!

At that moment, a huge rock fell about ten steps in front of us, shaking the ground.

Don’t tell me…….

“Change to defensive formation!”

Kyle stretched out his arm to close the book in my hands.

“Shu. From now on, everything I say will be an order and disobedience will not be tolerated.”

I felt a shiver go down my body. Kyle spoke before I could respond back a ‘Yes’.

“No matter what happens, do not get off the horse.”

With that, he jumped off from the horse and unsheathed his sword.

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

Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

[xxlady-lunaxx]

I'm not coming home | {SaneOba}

Theme: Angst

Note: I hate adding trigger warnings simply because it basically spoils the whole thing, but I have to add them so, TW's!!: implications of wanting to die/suicide

Spoilers!! (like in the next sentence)

Will take place after the Infinity Castle thing, Obanai lived, Mitsuri did not. You can choose to think of ObaMitsu as platonic or romantic, it really doesn't matter, they were just close before. Sanemi has been helping Obanai with his mental health (and uhm failing), guess where this is going<33

×××

It had been some time since the final battle and Sanemi was tired. Yes, he had been getting a lot more sleep recently than the past few years, but he was tired. Fuck, it wasn't even because of his sleep—although he was having trouble adjusting to this new sleep schedule. But putting that aside, the reason for his tiredness was Obanai.

Obanai was... putting it nicely, not okay. Mitsuri had died in his arms after Muzan's death, and he was in some sort of daze now, as if it would undo the damage. He ate less than he ever had—which was saying something—and he barely slept, barely moved, really. Sometimes, though, he would wander around, looking lost.

Sanemi had taken to caring for Obanai—the two had started dating, as well. It was rocky, their relationship, or just... their life. It wasn't easy, obviously. How could it be?

Before, at least, they had distractions. Missions, patrol, their own life constantly in peril danger. But there was nothing now. It was a relief, for a lot of the survivors. It was a relief to Sanemi and Obanai, as well. But in a way, it was also worse. Made life just a dull of objects and colors, a blur in the background. It was empty, no action, no... nothing.

Sanemi didn't necessarily mind, however. Obanai, on the other hand, was very affected by it. Horribly. And it was obvious. So obvious to the point that Tanjiro brought up the concern once, while passing by Sanemi at the market.

Sanemi assured him that he'd help as best he could, and that he already was. But it fed his worries about Obanai and he went in search for his boyfriend later, whom he hadn't seen in a bit. He found Obanai, later, sitting absentmindedly on a hill, his katana in his hand. He was staring at it as if it held the answers of the world, his hand running over the handle to the leather sheath.

"Obanai?" Sanemi asked, confused. He quickly made his way up the hill, plopping down next to the smaller man. 

"Hm?" Obanai turned, meeting Sanemi's eyes. The turquoise and golden eyes of Obanai's appeared unfocused, and he looked as tired as ever. 

"What're you doing here?" Sanemi said, frowning. He glanced down at Obanai's lap, where his katana sat. "And why do you have that?"

"Uhm. Just thinking," Obanai mumbled, closing his hand over the katana handle tightly. "Why?"

"You look tired and I haven't seen you all day," Sanemi said, sighing. He wrapped an arm around Obanai, urging him to lean against him. (does that make sense?)

Obanai shrugged. "I wanted some fresh air."

"Ah."

They were silent for a while. Sanemi took this opportunity to look around, finding that he could see a lot of a town below them, stretching far off into the distance. If he wasn't mistaken, that was the town the Hashira would usually wander around in their free time. More specifically, Mitsuri, who would eat a lot in one of the restaurants there.

With that, Sanemi realized Obanai had probably been down there, most likely reminising about Mitsuri. He grumbled internally, wanting to smack himself for his stupidity. Obanai must be feeling miserable because of this.

"So... Why do you have your katana?" Sanemi asked. The past Hashira and Demon Slayers had all kept their katanas and/or uniforms if they were still in tact, given that there wasn't any need to rid of them. But as far as Sanemi knew, most people's katana's were probably gathering dust somewhere in the back of their house as demon slaying hadn't been the best of most people's memories. 

Obanai looked away. "No reason."

The frown on Sanemi's face deepened. There was definitely a reason. It couldn't only be for the purpose of remembering, could it? Although just to feel the weight of the katana was enough to trigger a lot of memories.

"Right." Sanemi stood carefully, making sure he didn't drop Obanai's limp—and very light, he must add—body in the process. "When will you come back home? Tomioka's visiting later, so you probably want to get a bit of rest first."

"I'm not coming home," Obanai mumbled. The words were quiet, almost unaudible. Almost.

"What?" Sanemi turned back, having been half way through heading back down.

Obanai didn't say anything and Sanemi quickly retraced his steps back up, turning Obanai's body to look at him.

"What do you..." His eyes drifted down to Obanai's katana, clutched tightly in his hand. "No."

Obanai blinked quickly, turning his face away. 

"No, Obanai, don't you dare," Sanemi hissed, grabbing the part of the handle protruding from Obanai's fist.

Obanai fought back, tugging at it. "Go away, Sanemi," he said, a sudden harshness entering his voice.

Startled, Sanemi nearly let go, but quickly regained his grip on the katana. Having been taking a lot better care of himself recently—and just generally being stronger than Obanai—he managed to take the katana from his boyfriend, gripping it tightly. 

"Do not. Obanai, you cannot leave now. You're still young enough to have life to you, don't you fucking dare," Sanemi said, a burst of desperation hitting him. "I can't... can't lose you too."

Their eyes met and, for a second, Obanai returned the glare. But then all the fight seemed to seep out of him and he slumped down, his hair slipping over his face. 

"I'm sorry," Obanai whispered. "I have to."

Sanemi shook his head. "No. No, you don't and you won't. Fucking hell, what have you been thinking this whole time?! We're going back home, Obanai. C'mon," he said with a heavy sigh, hoisting Obanai's unhealthily light body onto his back.

Obanai's arms clasped themself loosely onto Sanemi's shoulders as Sanemi made a slow descent down the hill.

"You're going to sleep now, Obanai. I will not let you die," Sanemi said. He wouldn't allow it.

×××

« Word count: 1086 »

×××

there's more floof in this cuz... i feel bad and i love writing floof as much as angst

putting the part one and two in the same post because it's easier<33

×××

Obanai was asleep and Giyuu was at the door and Sanemi was in the kitchen. Sanemi was also panicking.

He heard the knock at the door and opened it, letting Giyuu enter.

Then he promptly went back to panicking.

Giyuu watched him pace around for a couple minutes before speaking up.

"Are you alright, Shinazugawa?" he asked. He had gotten better at talking recently, having had more time to focus on his social life. He was more vocal now and it was helpful, really. 

Sanemi stopped and stared at him. He had run his hand through his hair several times earlier so it looked like a mess, he had been muttering to himself and pacing around for almost an hour now, after putting Obanai to sleep, and he was tired. No, he was not alright.

"Obanai tried killing himself earlier," Sanemi said bluntly, deciding to go straight (gay) to the point.

Giyuu blinked. He had not been expecting that. "What?"

Sanemi groaned, striding forwards and hitting his forehead against the wall several times. "He brought his katana with him. He didn't even deny it."

Giyuu moved forward, pulling Sanemi away from the wall. "When?"

"Over an hour ago. I made him sleep," Sanemi said, gesturing to the hallway that led to Obanai's room.

"Ah. We should ask Aoi for help, she might know therapist or something," Giyuu murmured.

"Why the fuck would we ask a child?!" Sanemi said incredulously.

Giyuu sighed. "Because Kocho wanted to sign us up for therapy but we didn't have time. Aoi or Kanao might be of some help in this matter since they knew Kocho better."

"Bitch, we're adults. We can find a therapist ourself. But I doubt Obanai would speak to one, in the first place. He's... got a lot of personal shit he'd most likely rather not tell anyone," Sanemi pointed out. He crossed his arms, moving away from Giyuu. 

"Right. I don't know, then," Giyuu murmured.

Sanemi frowned, looking down at the ground. "I don't know either. I've been trying to help him, but I don't think it's working."

"Mm. How have you been trying?"

"Uhh..." Sanemi paused, racking his brain. "I've been keeping a close watch on his sleeping and eating schedules—which are somehow still fucked up. I try talking to him sometimes but he doesn't really... want to. He's quieter now, too. It's difficult to deal with, and it's fucking up my head."

Giyuu nodded as he spoke, thinking for a moment. "Try to just spend time with him, maybe? Instead of so obviously focusing on his mental and physical health, just take him out on walks or dates, and so on," he suggested. "Maybe it'll clear his mind."

Sanemi raised an eyebrow. "That's... I'm surprised I'd hear that from you, Tomioka. But I'll try that, sure."

Giyuu pouted. "What does that mean?!"

"You know, you're really childish for a twenty-one year old man," Sanemi deadpanned. 

"...go cheer up Iguro, then," Giyuu said, huffing and turning to the door.

Sanemi laughed. "Will do. Thanks," he called after Giyuu who was already outside.

"No problem... And good luck!" Giyuu said, lifting a hand in a wave before promptly slamming the door shut.

Sanemi rolled his eyes and locked the door before turning as he heard a different door open.

Obanai stumbled into the hallway, rubbing his eyes and fixing his bandages. He quickly spotted Sanemi and sank into his boyfriend's arms, hugging him tightly.

"You alright?" Sanemi asked, patting Obanai. 

He got a muffled "yes" in response. 

"Are you hungry?" he asked, picking up Obanai and hoisting him onto his hip.

Obanai pulled back slightly to make himself comfortable, wrapping his legs around Sanemi's waist. "No' really..." he mumbled, resting his head on Sanemi's shoulder. He seemed tired, still, and probably had forgotten about earlier. 

"Okay. Sleepy? Want to cuddle?" Sanemi offered, kissing his cheek.

"Mmmhm," Obanai hummed, nuzzling against him.

Sanemi smiled. "Whatever you want. You're awfully clingy today, you know..."

"Is'at bad?" Obanai asked, lifting his head up to look at Sanemi.

"Not at all. It's adorable."

"I'm not adorable."

Sanemi scoffed. "Keep telling yourself that."

Obanai grumbled but went back to hugging him as Sanemi made his way back to the bedroom, closing the door and laying down with Obanai wrapped around him.

The room was silent, only the sound of their breathing, bringing a comforting feeling to them, lulling them into sleep.

Sanemi awoke, he didn't know how long later, and glanced down at Obanai who stayed asleep in his arms. The blanket previously pulled over them had at one point gotten tangled up between their limbs and Sanemi struggled for a moment to pull it back onto them.

He glanced at the window which had curtains drawn over them. A dim light filtered through the fabric, however, telling him it was around late evening or night. He moved his hand up to run through the dark, tangled locks of Obanai's hair, wrapping his other arm back around his boyfriend.

A while later—about twenty or so minutes—Obanai stirred awake, blinking wearily at Sanemi. His hair was messy, despite Sanemi having been finger-combing it for nearly half an hour before, but he looked considerably less tired then he had before.

"S'nemi...?" he mumbled, moving forward and re-attaching himself to his boyfriend.

"Yes?"

"Goo' mornin'..." Obanai said, his voice muffled by his bandages and sleep.

"It's... night," Sanemi said, laughing gently. 

"Oh." Obanai sat up slowly, glancing at the window. "Is it bad that we're used to waking up at dusk and going to sleep at dawn?"

"...Probably." Sanemi sighed. "How do you feel, though?"

"I'm fine."

"Tired, still, or not?"

"I feel better," Obanai admitted, running a hand through his hair. 

"I'm glad to hear it," Sanemi said, sitting up and kissing the smaller man's forehead. "Hungry?"

"Not really." 

Sanemi frowned. "When have you last eaten?"

Obanai pouted, crossing his arms. "That's none of your concern!"

"It is! If I want to care for you, I need to know!" Sanemi said.

"I don't need caring for! I'm twenty-one! I can care for myself!" Obanai protested.

Sanemi raised an eyebrow. "What, and this morning wasn't some sort of indication that you can't?" He immediately regretted the words afterwards when Obanai seemed to cower away, remembering. "Sorry, Obanai, I didn't mean..."

Obanai shook his head, silencing him. "It's fine." He slumped back down onto the futon, burying himself in the blankets.

Sanemi sighed. "I'll make us some food."

"Alright..."

×××

Sanemi decided to take Giyuu's advice into action and, the next day, took Obanai out on a walk after lunch.

Obanai was clueless and just walked around, one hand clasped around Sanemi's, the other clutching a pebble he'd picked up earlier. They walked in silence, enjoying the outside for once. It was a nice day and the weather was mild, not cold nor hot. It was peaceful; spring could be like that. (Fun fact: it was spring after the war!! Because the sakura tree in the Butterfly Estate had been blooming) There was a heavy scent of flowers in the air, given the trees were blooming and, with the occasional burst of wind, flower petals would float down around them.

Sanemi was watching Obanai carefully and had been caught staring at him several times, leading to more awkward silence.

Eventually, irritated, Obanai asked, "What?" upon catching Sanemi looking at him again.

Sanemi bit his lip, turning his gaze back in front of them. Obanai stopped, though, holding Sanemi back by his hand. 

"What?" he repeated, more forcefully.

Sanemi shook his head. "It's nothing, just thinking."

Obanai huffed. "If you keep thinking about yesterday, I'm going to rip your head off."

"Be my guest," Sanemi murmured. "And it's not that"—which was partially true—"so don't worry about it. I was thinking about when we were Hashira. Days like today just went by unnoticed since we were usually resting or training."

Obanai rolled his eyes. "Oh, are you reminising now? Are you going to go on about a speech to appreciate what we have now?"

Sanemi laughed. "Do you want me to?"

"Fuck no."

"Good, because I wasn't. But... you really should," Sanemi added, as an afterthought.

"What? I'm not reciting an essay for shit," Obanai said, scrunching up his nose. 

"That's not what I meant. i meant, like, to 'appreciate what you have now,' as you'd put it."

"Oh, so it is about yesterday." He sighed, letting go of Sanemi's hand to fidget with the rock. "Please stop thinking about it."

"Like I could." Sanemi crossed his arms, moving to stand in front of Obanai. "You do realize I care about you way more than anyone else right now?"

"Well you shouldn't. You should care about yourself." Obanai looked up, his eyes meeting the lavender eyes of Sanemi's, those of which he'd fallen in love with over and over again. God, he would do almost anything for him. Almost anything.

"Like you could talk! You're the one ignoring your own health," Sanemi shot back. "Obanai, seriously, just... I'll stop thinking about it when you can prove to me that you'll try to get better. If not for yourself, then... for..." He hesitated, unsure if he should continue the sentence. "For someone else."

Obanai frowned. "For you?" he asked. "Just say it. It's not selfish, if that's what you're thinking."

Sanemi shook his head again, running a hand through his hair and sighing. "It's... not that."

"Then?" Obanai asked impatiently. 

"That's not what we're talking about!" Sanemi said, trying to pull him off the course of the conversation.

"Yeah, well now it is. So, tell me." He crossed his arms for emphasis, glaring up at Sanemi.

Sanemi grumbled. "If I tell you, will you try to care for your health?"

"I walked into that, didn't I," Obanai said, sighing. 

"Yes."

"Fine. I'll try. But I won't promise any success."

"Good enough," Sanemi decided. 

"So?" Obanai asked, quirking an eyebrow when he didn't continue. "Tell me!"

"It's stupid," he insisted.

"So am I, and look who you're dating! Get on with it, idiot."

Sanemi rolled his eyes. "One, you're not stupid. And... fine. Fine," he repeated, as if telling himself more than Obanai. His gaze dropped to the ground, avoiding the prying eyes of his boyfriend. "It's about Kanroji."

Obanai tensed. "What about her?"

"I don't know. Just, you're doing this all for her, right? I know what you were looking at when I found you yesterday. I know you care about her a lot." Sanemi paused. "Basically—and fuck, I sound like a selfish brat, but—I didn't know if you cared about me enough to want to stay... for me," he concluded. "Which is why... yeah."

Obanai frowned, taking in this information. "Are you jealous or insecure?"

Sanemi winced. "Don't say it like that."

"Just answer."

"Both, really," he admitted, wishing he could crawl in a hole and die.

There was a beat of silence.

And then Obanai stepped forward, tiptoeing and wrapping his arms around Sanemi's neck, hugging him tightly. He glanced around, making sure nobody was there, then undid his bandages, kissing Sanemi gently. Sanemi embraced him, leaning against the hug. 

"God, you're like a big baby," Obanai murmured, placing another kiss on Sanemi's cheek.

"Says you," Sanemi said, although he smiled at the kiss. 

"Mm, sure." 

They stayed like this for a while, completely ignoring the fact that they stood in the middle of a road in public, their attention completely on each other.

Then Sanemi back away, embarrassed and almost guilty. "Sorry for turning this about me."

"Don't worry about it, it's nice to not be the one worried about for once," Obanai said, quickly fixing his mask and taking Sanemi's hand.

Sanemi nodded. "And it's nice to be the one worried about, honestly," he said. 

"Guess you haven't experienced it much?"

"Nah." 

They continued on their walk in silence for a while, consumed in their own thoughts. Obanai spoke up, after a few minutes, glancing up at Sanemi.

"Hey, and for the record? I do care about you. Fuck, I'm sorry for seeming so laser-focused on Mitsuri lately, but... I mean, don't take this the wrong way, but she's all the reasons why I want to die. You're all the reasons I want to stay," he said, his voice gentle. 

Sanemi stared at him. 

"What?"

"N... Nothing," Sanemi mumbled, his hand tightening around Obanai's. "Thanks."

Obanai nodded, confused. He double-stepped forward to see Sanemi's face—who had turned away—and stopped. "Oh my god, are you going to cry?!" 

Sanemi shook his head, his hand reaching up to rub his eyes. "Fuck no, what the hell are you talking about?..."

Obanai sighed, letting go of his hand to wipe the tear that slipped down Sanemi's cheek. "Crying isn't bad."

"Well, good for you. Because I'm not crying!" Sanemi insisted, a whine entering his voice.

"And you said I was the baby," Obanai grumbled, rolling his eyes. But he hugged Sanemi again, holding him tightly in his arms. 

Sanemi buried his face in the mess of Obanai's hair, practically strangling him with a hug. "'m not crying," he repeated, with less insistency.

"Whatever you say."

After Sanemi got himself back together, the two walked down the road again, more awkwardly as neither knew what to say anymore. 

"Uhm... So, back to you?" Sanemi suggested.

"Fuck no."

"Fuck yes."

"You want to fuck?" Obanai asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Maybe?" Sanemi said, mimicking Obanai.

"Idiot," Obanai said, laughing.

Sanemi smiled. "You're laughing."

Obanai immediately stopped. "Okay, no, that's stupid. Don't be stupid."

Sanemi rolled his eyes. "You're stupid."

"I know."

"God."

They exchanged a smile before Obanai decidedly broke into a run, making Sanemi do a double take before chasing after him.

"What the hell?!" he shouted, catching up quickly.

Obanai grinned at him, quickening his pace. "How much strength from being do you think we have left?"

"I bet I have more than you do," Sanemi replied, running ahead of Obanai.

"Fuck you!!" Obanai whined, attempting to get back in line with Sanemi.

They laughed as they ran, and probably wouldn't have stopped if it weren't for the fact that they nearly crashed into someone. Both of them skidded to a stop, almost toppling over themselves in an attempt to not hit the other person.

"Fuck..." Sanemi groaned, helping Obanai steady himself.

"Okay, what the hell is wrong with you two?" the person asked, his voice familiar.

They looked up.

"Great," Obanai said, crossing his arms.

"The fuck is that supposed to mean?!" Tengen whined. 

"Nothing. What're you doing here?" Sanemi asked.

"Uh, walking. Why?" Tengen said, cocking an eyebrow. "And you two?"

"Same as you," Obanai said. 

"Right. You look better," Tengen noted, looking Obanai up and down.

"What do you mean?"

"Well rested." 

Sanemi nodded. "He slept a lot yesterday and the day before."

"I was tired," Obanai said defensively. "And what do you mean, 'better'?!"

"It wasn't an insult," Tengen said, laughing. "And of course you were tired."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?!" Obanai threw the pebble at Tengen who dodged it, grinning at him.

Sanemi rolled his eyes. "He means you were being insomniac and unhealthy and that you're already making improvement, dumbass."

Obanai huffed. "You too?!"

"Hey, don't blame me! You were the only one who fell into some sort of neglection of yourself after Muzan!" Sanemi pointed out.

"Anyways, I don't want to hear you two bickering, so... bye!" Tengen said, saluting them before promptly turning and practically disappearing.

Sanemi and Obanai stared after to where Tengen had run off to, watching his figure fade into the distance.

"Why is everyone concerned about my health," Obanai asked, after a minute. 

"Because you're easy to be concerned about. You look happier though," Sanemi said, turning back to Obanai. "Right now."

"That's cuz we were running and it was exhilarating. I haven't done that in a bit."

"Yeah, I know. That's why I took you out on the walk," he said, taking Obanai's hand into his own.

"Hmm, I knew you had ulterior motives," Obanai said. "'I need fresh air' my ass." 

"That wasn't a lie."

"Yeah, yeah."

"Hey, you lied about that, too!" Sanemi said, walking again.

"Fair enough."

×××

Giyuu's tactic seemed to work. It was distracting Obanai a lot more and he looked a lot lighter now, although he occasionally lapsed into fits of depressing—if you could call it that—and Sanemi was always there for him when they happened. But he was progressing and his katana ended up in the corner of the entrance hall, dust slowly collecting on the hand guard. He was doing better, and it was all Sanemi could really ask for.

×××

« Word count: 2731 »

y'all i know I ended this randomly but I was losing ideas for this and it ended up so much different than i'd intended AND HOW THE FUCK DID I GET NEARLY 3000 WORDS?! I THOUGHT IT WOULD ONLY BE 600-1000 BUT NAH...

Also i js remembered how much I love fluff 🤩

so many scenes in this oneshot i'm in love w/ how it turned out (also a bit eh but YAYY)

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

From Away 1

Warnings: this series will include dark elements which may include noncon or dubcon and other untagged triggers. Mind the warnings.

Summary: you apply for a job with a rather eccentric boss.

Character: Harald Halfdansson

Big thanks to those who read! Feedback always helps inspire and you know I’m always happy to chat about possibilities! Please reblog and comment ❤️

Courtesy tag: @alicedopey

For a country built forged in centuries, everything feels so sparkly and new to you. A new home, a new world, at least for a while. It is all so splendid and wonderful. And expensive.

So it is that you head off with a fold in hand and your purse bouncing against your hip. You have a job interview. A very interesting one though the commute promises more than enough time to prepare. Rather, to overthink.

You can’t complain. It sounds like an interesting opportunity. A dream job you couldn’t hope for back home. There weren’t any historical sites that popular to require excessive staff.

You stand at the stop just outside your building. You need to catch a connection at the downtown center and another in an area you’ve never been before. After that, there’s a bit of a walk but you could use a reason to exercise.

The bus pulls up and you smile at the driver as you scan your pass. You find a seat though it isn’t hard. Most are empty this early in the morning. You hug your bag in your lap and watch the streets pass by as the driver chugs along, stopping and starting until your reach the core of the old city.

You nearly miss your transfer and sit breathless on the second bus, measuring your heartbeat until it’s calm again. The close you get, the worse your nerves are. The last interview you had was for this very opportunity. Just to go on exchange, you had to sit in front of a panel and answer questions about why and how and so many things. You can do it, right?

The third bus takes you into the hills, lush green against the grey blue sky, some rocky peaks in the distance. The landscape here is rich and varying. Back home, you can find a similar spectrum of backdrops but the distance in between is vast.

Last stop on the route before it circles around and you get off with a thanks to the driver. You step onto the gravel apron of the back road and check your phone. You don’t have a signal up here but you have the directions saved. Just in case. You follow the steps up towards your destination. It’s not easy to miss as the old fortress stands sentinel at the top of the jutting incline.

Kastali Castle. A bit redundant upon translation; ‘Castle Castle’. In your research, you discovered that the fort was built on a millenial foundation of an old viking village, since updated over the centuries by warlords and kings, and burnt many times over by invaders. You shuffle through the history in your head, trying to sort the timeline as you approach the low stone barrier along the lower tier of the property.

The gate is open. On the other side, sheep graze lazily across the grass. You’ve learned since your arrival that the creatures have free reign of the countryside. They may eat and wander where they might. You stop to fawn at a younger lamb. The animals can be a bit ornery but they’re cute.

You turn back, looking up at the high foundations and carry on along the steep path. As you get to the large wooden door that would let you through the tall inner walls, you hesitate. You can’t just let yourself in but you don’t know where to go. You check your phone, thinking to call the number in the email but your bars are still empty.

“Invaders, ho!” A holler breaks the earthly hue and you step back to look up at where the voice erupted from. There’s a figure above you, so high you have to crane your neck painfully. You continue to back up until you can see the man above. “Are you lost, fair maiden? Or do you come upon a quest?”

You blink, nearly giggling at his flowery way of speaking. His accent lilts his words peculiarly.

“Um, I have an interview,” you yell back up, the effort making your throat thrum. You’re not much for raising your voice. “With, er,” you look down at your phone. You hadn’t saved the email.

“Harald,” he calls back down, “yes, he is expecting you.”

The man disappears and you stare up into the sky after him. You can hear creaking and cracking then silence. You lower your head and look straight ahead, waiting. The arched door opens with a long whine and the same man appears before you, his cheeks slightly flushed as he gives a crooked grin. His weathered skin is marked with blue black ink along one side of his face. A nordic symbol you can’t decipher.

“It is I, Harald,” he offers his hand, “the keeper of Kastali.”

“Oh, uh,” you shake his hand and give your name in return.

“Lovely name, lovely,” he squeezes before he lets you go, “and a curious accent I here. American? No, no, speak for me again.”

You blink at him dumbly, “um, okay, I don’t know what to say, sir.”

“Irish,” he jabs his finger into the air. “I hear the twang.”

“No, sir,” you laugh, “Canadian.”

“Ah, the great north,” he booms, “yes, I see. Forgive my assumptions.”

“It’s okay,” you grip your bag and shift your weight nervously. “Thank you for the interview, sir, this place is really cool.”

“Interview?” He squints, “is that what I said? No, no, you’re hired.”

“What?”

“I’m afraid I don’t have time for an interview,” he shakes his head, “I need help. Forthwith.”

“Oh, right, maybe I misread--”

“Let’s forget that, unless...” his brows rise and his forehead lines, “you do not want the job?”

“No, no, I do,” you assure him, “I just wasn’t expecting to start today.”

“Yes, you are not dressed well for chasing away Gustav.”

“Gustav?” You echo.

“You will know him. He is a dark cloud on this place. If you do run into him, well, run in the other direction,” he girds, “well then,” he moves to stand with his back to the door, holding it open, “let’s begin with the tour, the we will worry about all else.”

“Oh, sure, um, right. Cool,” you pass through the door and he eases the door shut behind him. As the old brass latch clanks, you wince.

“Wow,” you look around at the interior walls, “it’s so big. It must be a lot of work. How many people work here?”

He laughs heartily and claps his hand on his chest, “just me. Well, you too, now.”

“Just you?” You gape over at him. It’s only then your notice that his hair is much longer than you thought. It hangs, bounded in golden hoops, down his back, much like an ancient warrior fashion.

“The king of my own castle,” he winks over at you, “let’s not waste any more time. We have much to do.”

[promptsforpoemproseandplay]

Holes

As the third part of my ‘places we don’t know the names of’ series (part one is Paths and part two is Bodies of Water), here are some other words you can use for (big) holes that occur in nature!

So, here's a totally not comprehensive guide to

✨Holes✨!

Holes

abyss: a deep, immeasurable space

canyon: a deep, large valley with steep sides

chasm: a narrow divide with steep, rocky walls; smaller than a canyon

cleft: a space or opening made by a split

combe: a glen or deep hollow, enclosed on all but one side

cranny: a small, narrow fissure in walls or rock

crevasse: a fissure

dale: a broad valley

dell: a wooded glen

depression: a sunken place or part; an area lower than the surrounding surface

dingle: a deep, narrow cleft between hills

ditch: any open passage or trench

fissure: a narrow opening

foxhole: a small pit, usually for one or two soldiers, dug as a shelter in a battle area

furrow: a narrow groove made in the ground, especially by a plow

glen: a small, narrow, secluded valley

gorge: a chasm, especially one through which a stream runs

gulch: a deep, narrow ravine, marking the course of a torrent

gully: a small ravine originally worn away by running water serving as a drainage way after prolonged heavy rains

moat: a deep, wide trench, usually filled with water, surrounding the rampart of a fortified place, as a town or a castle

trench: long, steep-sided, narrow depression in the floor

ravine: a narrow steep-sided valley commonly eroded by running water

valley: an elongated depression between uplands, hills, or mountains, especially one following the course of a stream

As always, these aren’t all the words our vast English language holds for us to describe deep holes naturally occurring in the ground, but I daresay these are the only ones you’ll actually need to know. Until next time.

~Nyx

[bronzefuryfic]

Bronze Fury

When the only child of Daemon Targaryen and Rhea Royce is brought to King's Landing to meet with the rest of her family, she finds herself caught in a crisis of succession. The Greens battle for her support... and her affections.

Chapter Eleven: The Funeral / Previous Chapter / Directory

The Targaryens arrive in Driftmark for the funeral of Laena Velaryon. Aegon proposes a plan to save his relationship. Rhae at last sees her father.

"You reckon this is what it's like on Dragonstone?"

Aemond shrugged, his eyes transfixed on the sky. He and Rhae stood at the edge of the deck, listening to the dockhands clamor to prepare a ramp for the ship's passengers to exit on. Waiting for them below was Aegon and Helaena, their hair whipped and wild from their flight.

Driftmark's harbor was at the base of the island, the castle looming large on the rocky hills above. Sunfyre and Dreamfyre were roosting about halfway up, their long scaly necks pointed upwards, watching wearily as more dragons circled overhead.

Rhae recognized the sleek yellow frame of Syrax , soaring lazily amongst the clouds, as she was prone to. She kept a lofty distance, her cries faint and sorrowful, almost lost to the winds. Nearby was Seasmoke , sinking lower and lower towards the ocean in a spiraling silent stupor. They seemed to keep their distance from the sky's only other inhabitant—a crimson beast that streaked the ether in agitated fury.

"Meleys," Aemond whispered.

The Dragonkeepers had told Rhae once that the bond between riders and their mounts was unbreakable, so much so that they could feel each other's emotions. She hadn't believed them then, but now...

The Red Queen roared, her call a bitter agony.

Rhae thought of Ser Harwin, and of Laena Velaryon, and wondered whether the dragons were mourning too.

"I don't see Caraxes," she shivered, watching the clouds, fearfully wondering when he might slither into view. Viserys had once told her how Daemon's dragon came to be known as the Blood Wyrm, for his scarlet scales and deformities.

"More of a winged viper than a dragon," The King had chuckled. "Though, pray, don't tell Daemon I've said so, tis' his pride and joy, Caraxes..."

"No Vhagar either," Aemond grumbled—the boy also seemed to scan the horizon in anticipation. "You don't think they've left her in Essos, do you?"

"I doubt any could coax the Queen of All Dragons overseas if she did not wish it," Rhae reasoned. Aemond's brow furrowed, but before they could discuss any further, Ser Criston's voice cut through the commotion.

"Rhae! Aemond!"

The ramp secured, the passengers filed down to the dock. The King went first, aided by his attendants so that he would not topple into the sea.

"See him to his quarters," the Queen called after them. "His Grace should rest before the funeral."

One by one, the rest followed. Rhae scanned the skies once more, wondering where Daemon might be, before hurrying down the ramp after Aemond.

"Gods Rhae," Aegon said, as he and Helaena joined them. He surveyed her closely, his brow knitting together in concern. "You look like shit."

"Aegon!" Aemond glowered.

"What?" Aegon argued. "She does!"

"You do," Helaena whispered, taking Rhae by her right arm as her brothers bickered.

"That obvious, huh?" Rhae offered a half smile despite herself. Her hand curled around Helaena's forearm, soothing her nerves as she gently rubbed the sleeve's fabric beneath her fingers. She allowed her friend to pull her along, following the crowd up the stony steps to High Tide.

As they drew nearer, Rhae's breath caught. The pale stone that made its walls reminded Rhae of those belonging to her liege lady's, Jeyne Arryn of the Eerie. The memories were old, but by Rhae's estimation, the newly constructed High Tide was even bigger, and better yet, much easier to climb. She'd heard how the Sea Snake erected his own castle, abandoning the small, salt-stained Castle Driftmark in its favor. Ser Gerold had scoffed at the news, aghast that any might abandon their ancestral seat. But as Rhae passed the threshold, she couldn't help but think the Lord of the Tides had made the right decision, marvelling at the spoils of his famed nine voyages.

She, Aegon, Aemond and Helaena huddled together as the Queen paced past them to meet with their host, the King already being escorted towards the apartments. Rhae scoured the room for faces that ought to be familiar.

Can you find yourself in family you've never met? Rhae wondered. She didn't need half as much to recognize Lord Corlys Velaryon—still proud in his grief, stern and immovable as a mast, his sea-salted white dreads striking against his dark skin and sable, lavish mourning attire. Nor his wife, Princess Rhaenys Targaryen, her features visibly taut with sorrow, even from a distance, even beneath her veil of black.

But where is my father? What has become of my sisters?

As more guests and attendants piled through the doors, their footfall echoing the vaulted ceilings, Alicent's voice became lost in the cacophony.

"Gods, she's relentless," Aegon grumbled, as his mother gestured back towards them. He looked to Rhae's worried face, before straightening his back and taking a high tone. "Sincerest apologies for the death of your daughter. May the Sevens bless her and blah blah blah... Would you like to hear about my son?"

"Aegon..." Aemond began exhaustedly.

But it was as successful as ever, Aegon already blathering on. "No, not the short one there. Behind him. Yes, yes... the handsome one... he's got a cock and all!"

Aemond rolled his eyes, nodding towards an ornate spyglass on display nearby. When he spoke, he mimicked Aegon's sickly sweet impersonation of their mother.

"If you use the telescope, you might even see it."

Rhae snapped from her daze, clapping a hand over her mouth, barely able to suppress a snicker. It didn't matter—Helaena guffawed beside her, drawing scowls from those nearby. Color rose in Aegon's cheeks, but he made no retort. His face flickered between anger and amusement, but beneath it all, Rhae could've sworn he looked proud.

The children sobered instantly as the Queen returned to them, save Helaena, who was still giggling to herself. Alicent surveyed them wearily, turning to Rhae. "Is something funny?"

Do tell me if the children are a bother... I trust you'll be honest with me, she'd once said.

"No, Your Grace."

Alicent nodded, apt to believe her.

"Upstairs." She commanded. "You're to stay in your chambers until you are called for the funeral." She gave Aegon a hard look, adding with a hiss. " And you're to stay on your best behavior!"

"Yes, Your Grace." They all chorused.

Rhae spent the rest of the morning fussing over her appearance, straightening non-existent creases in her dress, fiddling with her hair, polishing her jewelry. She hated every second, but every time she tore herself from the mirror, she'd lap the room and come right back.

She longed for her bow, so that she might calm her nerves with thoughtless, long-practiced motions. As she paced the length of the room once more, she wished next for a dagger of her own, to flip and toss as she had with Aemond on the boat.

Perhaps if I were to ask Ser Criston... She thought, turning on her heel and stalking back towards the mirror.

EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAARTCH!

The cry cut through Rhae's heart, her hand instinctively flying to her chest. She glimpsed her own horrified expression in the mirror before rushing towards the window. Her eyes and ears strained—she thought she could sense the beating of wings above, but it was hard to separate from the beating of the waves below. The sky revealed nothing.

Caraxes. It has to be.

Another shrill screech confirmed her theory, sending goose-pimples across all but her left arm.

He's here.

A knock sounded at the door, and a yelp loosed her lips.

"It's just me."

"Come in." Rhae managed weakly, pulling herself away from the window as Aegon entered the room.

"Gods Rhae," He muttered, reaching for her, placing his hand on the small of her back before the door even shut. "You really do look terrible."

"Thanks."

"Stunning," He corrected, placing a second hand on the nape of her neck. We shouldn't do this here, Rhae thought, but the worry dissipated as his thumb brushed along the corner of her jaw. "But also terrible."

Rhae hadn't realized she'd been clenching her teeth. Her mouth slackened, her bottom lip quivering. Her arms wrapped around his mid-section as Aegon pulled her head towards his chest, and for a moment, she felt safe.

"I wanted to talk to you about... us," Aegon said after a while, shifting his hands to her waist. "If you're up for it."

"What is there to discuss?" She lamented. "Nothing has changed."

"It could. We could make it change."

Rhae sighed, pulling her head back to look at him properly. He appeared nervous, as he had last they spoke, ever afraid of her rejection. His fingers gripped her tighter, his hope in his hands, desperate to keep it from slipping away.

"How?"

"If the court... discovered our secret," Aegon began, Rhae's eyes already widening in fear. He pressed onwards desperately. "It would cause a scandal. Mother would have to make new arrangements to counter. We'd be wed instead!" Rhae shook her head. "Please. Please don't do that. She'd have to, Rhae. For our reputations—"

" Your reputation!" Rhae interjected. Her hold on him loosened, but she did not let go. "You're the son of the King, and I'm merely a daughter of the Vale. It's just as likely I'm removed from my station and sent to the Silent Sisters!"

"Mother wouldn't let that happen! She couldn't. You're too important."

"For the dragon I don't have?"

"For the dragon you will have!" Aegon flared, his voice rising. "I thought you also wanted this! I thought... I thought —"

"I do," Rhae hushed. "I do."

EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAARTCH!

They stood in despondent silence, Caraxes' call echoing over the sea.

".. . I'm scared, Aegon."

"We can't stop what's coming," He said quietly. "I've feared the throne for as long as mother has sworn it to me. But I..." He gulped. "I love you. I need you. And I think if you were to be there by my side..."

He didn't finish. He didn't have to.

Things might be a little less frightening.

Time seemed to hold still. It seemed to Rhae that the only sign it passed at all was the heavy thump of her heart in her chest. Her whole head seemed to hum, savoring his words, their clarity...

Helaena was right.

"When?" she breathed, her cheeks burning. It was so foolish, so crass . Gods, what would Ser Gerold say? What will Alicent? And yet... there was a surge of exhilaration. Had they not risked this very outcome every time they snuck from the prying eyes of the Red Keep? Had they not danced around the possibility for weeks? Months?

He blinked in surprise, taking a moment to process her agreement. But as the realization hit him, his grip tightened, pulling at her hips.

"I'd have you now," Aegon muttered fervently. His head snaked to the side, pressing a kiss to the corner of her jaw, just below the ear. "Why wait?"

Rhae put her right hand firmly to his chest, pushing away his advances. Not all her senses had left her. Aegon's brow furrowed in confusion.

"What?"

Rhae let out an involuntary jolt of laughter.

"We're at a funeral!"

"All the better," he insisted. "Less opportunity for them to do anything to stop us."

"You're mad. This is mad."

"So be it."

He leaned in again, slower this time, testing her resolve.

"Aegon," Rhae's hand stayed firmly on his chest. "I want this, I do."

"But?"

"It can't be now. Not here. Not..." She grimaced. "Not with everything else that's going on."

Aegon jerked his head in a stiff nod, the creases of worry returning to his brow.

"Okay," he muttered, dropping his hands to his side. "You're right." He was already moving for the door. "We'll talk about it later. I'll see downstairs for the..." He couldn't even finish the sentence, or if he had, it was spoken so softly that Rhae could not hear it.

He doesn't believe me.

"Aegon?"

Her feet carried her a few hurried steps forward, but her mouth struggling to match their willfulness. Aegon's hand hovered over the door's handle. His head just barely turned in her direction, his distrustful eyes obscured by a sheet of silver hair. Somehow Rhae knew—if she couldn't convince him now, she'd never have the chance again.

"What?"

It was now or never. Rhae swallowed her fear.

"I love you too."

His gaze softened.

"We'll talk later," he said again, gentler this time.

And before doubt could reclaim him, he was gone.

Everything felt heavy. Rhae's feet were leaden, shuffling across the ground beneath her dress as though her shoes were full of rocks. A mounting pressure built in her head, and her heart seemed to sink through her chest and puddle into her stomach. She feared she might retch again—Aemond did too, by the nervous looks he kept casting in her direction.

Her friends formed a sort of guard around her—Helaena leading from the front, with Aegon and Aemond on her left and right side, respectively. Rhae remembered a time when she was afraid to be so surrounded , but she was grateful now... Even if they made it difficult to search the crowd herself. Mourners lined the rocky terrain nearby, not important enough to join the inner-most circle of family and royals at the bottom. Rhae wondered how many had known Laena personally, and felt guilty as she passed.

They came to a stop beside Laenor Velaryon, though he did not seem to notice. He wept silently, unable to tear his eyes from the stone coffin before them, transfixed on his sister's silent, carved face. Beside him stood Princess Rhaenyra, her arms wrapped around Jace and Luke. Only Jace glanced their way.

They were joined shortly by a man in Hightower garb, who kissed Alicent's cheek before moving to stand just behind the King. Rhae peered—the lapel pin signifying the position of Hand gleamed at her from his chest. Ser Otto, she realized. She inclined her head towards Aemond for an explaination, but he merely shrugged.

"Father called for him when we arrived," Helaena whispered. Aemond and Rhae exchanged a look of surprise.

"How'd you know that?"

"Grandfather came to visit me next," Helaena smiled, reaching into the sleeve of her dress and pulling out a dead silverfish. "He found it on the boat from Oldtown!" She nudged Aegon, adding his head to the fold. "He says Daeron is well."

They'd caused too much commotion, however quiet. Alicent was staring at them pointedly, shushing them with her eyes. The children pulled back from their huddle.

A moment later, they were joined by Lord Corlys and Princess Rhaenys . Squeezed between them were two young girls. The taller of the two had an arm wrapped protectively around the shorter—or, perhaps, she was leaning on her for support.

My sisters, Rhae realized.

"Where is father?" She could hear the shorter ask, scanning the mourners anxiously. "They'll be starting soon!"

"He'll be here, Rhaena," said the taller— Baela. She seemed sure of her answer, though Rhaena did not look convinced.

Rhaena continued to scan the crowd, her gaze coming to rest on Rhae. Her eyes narrowed, and she rose on her toes to whisper something to Baela.

Rhae's cheeks burned.

So they do know about me.

But she didn't have long with her discomfort before it deepened into distress. Daemon's presence preceded him—dozens of heads were already turning before he reached the bottom step. For all the reactions he garnered, Daemon did not indulge any bids for his attention. Not the King's outstretched hand, nor Ser Otto's smug adjustment of his lapel pin as the Rogue Prince passed. He did not so much as glance in the direction of his daughters. It wasn't until he came to a stop beside the coffin, standing by no one, that he surveyed the sea of stunned faces with a slight smirk, revelling in the unease.

"Shall we begin?"

He turned to the Velaryon man closest to him—Vaemond, Lady Laena's uncle—who in turn nodded to the guards nearby. They unfurled a length of rope, weaving it through iron rungs attached to the coffin, creating a sort of pulley.

When Vaemond Velaryon spoke, he adopted the Valyrian tongue. Rhae strained her ears against the pounding blood rush to her head—struggling to hear or to understand.

"Tubī Velario Lentro Ābrāzme Laene iēdrarta mōrqittot, māzīlarē tubirri Elēdrion ziry umīsilza luo dāriot, hannagon Embrurliot gierūlti."

Today we... we commit Lady Laena to the water.

The ropes snapped as the guards pulled, dragging the coffin a few inches backward along a long stretch of smoothed rock—a conduit with which they would deliver the body to the sea. Rhae supposed her translation must've been close, though she was certain she missed some. Another pull, and another few inches... Rhae gave an involuntary shudder.

She found herself looking to Jacaerys, and was surprised to catch his eye. Rhae offered what she hoped came across as a nod of solidarity, to seeming success. Jace nodded back, before casting a sideways glance towards Vaemond, as if to ask, are you getting any of this? Rhae smiled slightly, promising herself she'd find him later, and returned her attention to Vaemond.

"Solion tolijor zijosy pradarose, Ābrāzma Laena rāeniot hen eglio ilvot lanto taloti hembis. Pōja muña hen zȳho solio āmāzīlus daor, yn ānogrosa gierī ozletaksi humbilza."

Rhae understood very little now. She recognized "taloti", daughters, and "ānogrosa gierī ozletaksi", bound horribly? No... that can't be right... bound forever in blood...

Rhae looked to her sisters. All strength seemed to have left Baela, who was crying into her grandmother's chest. Rhaena's back was straight, her chin high, but she did nothing to clear the tears trailing down her cheeks.

Rhae couldn't remember the funeral of her own mother, having been a babe at the time. Would I have been as brave? She wondered . She longed to join them. She may not have known Laena, nor did she have memories of her own mother to mourn, and yet... watching Rhaena and Baela, Rhae felt a little less lonely.

They don't need me, Rhae reminded herself, her eyes drifting down to see their hands still clenched together. They have each other.

"Velario ānogro rȳ lopor ojāris. Īlvon qumblī iāris. Īlvon drējī iāris."

Vaemond's voice seemed to harden now. He was still speaking of blood, Velaryon blood, thick and true.

Unwittingly, Rhae found her gaze shift back to Jace. From the way Rhaenyra pulled her sons closer, her face poorly guarded, Rhae suspected she was not the only one. Laenor seemed to choke back a sob and Jacaerys' head drooped, hiding his pale face beneath his brown hair. Only Lucerys remained unperturbed. Rhae thought it unlikely he understood much of the speech at all, never mind the implications about his birth.

And there it was. The ever-unwelcome taste of conflict which made Rhae want to gag— Vaemond will not stand for Luke to ascend the Driftwood Throne. How many of the Velaryons feel the same? The boy bears their name, yet none of their blood.

Luke had a greater worry—the boy reached for his supposed father's trembling hand... an attempt at comfort.

But Vaemond did not relent, glaring at the child.

"Se dōrī vajiñagon īlvon bēvilis."

And ours must never thin.

A gale of laughter erupted from the speaker's side. Every head turned towards Daemon, who seemed unable to contain himself. Rhae gaped, bewildered. He didn't so much as have the grace to look embarrassed, snickering still as everyone stared.

Laughter? As the truth of it hit her, all other thoughts were erased from Rhae's mind. Her fists clenched, fury tearing at her stomach, her vision turned red. She was faintly aware of Aegon's hand seizing the back of her dress, and Aemond treading on her toe. Every reckless thought rattling through her head must've shown on her face, but she didn't care. She could not placate the tremor of injustice that iced her veins.

Rhae urged her feet forward, wishing nothing more than to strike her father, to knock him into the sea, to split his skull on stone... Let them mount my head and call me traitor, she thought savagely. It would be worth it.

But she remained where she stood, staring at him, burning him in her mind, hating him.

Won't he at least look at me?

It was as though he heard her. A flicker of the eye, so quick and so subtle, Rhae might've blinked and missed it. But she hadn't, and she was certain—Daemon met her gaze. He smirked.

A chill ran the length of her spine.

Dammit.

Rhae was not as brave as she had hoped—angry, hot tears leaked down her face. But what was there to do? She wiped them hurriedly, ashamed.

I could never hurt him as he hurts me.

Rhae tore her gaze from Daemon, fixating instead on the coffin of his second wife. Another woman dead. More daughters devastated. The father and the husband still unaffected. Where is justice? Ser Gerold was made the fool for asking the same, once. But he'd done it all the same.

I'm sorry, Mother.

"Talus mandus ñuhus," Vaemond continued, unfaltering. "Inkoso kostōbāpis aōhis jelmīs sagon gīso lykāpas aōhas embis se prūmȳsa lēdāpas aōhas manengīs."

Spirit. Heart. Rhae understood little else. The soldiers tugged at the ropes with each word, dragging the coffin closer and closer to the brink.

"Hen embār masti. Va embrot āmāzīli."

And with one final heave, Laena Velaryon was sent to sea. Gone forever.

Next Chapter: Driftmark

Rhae struggles through encounters with old friends, lost family, and new supposed allies at the funeral reception on Driftmark.

AO3 | Chapter Discussion

Thanks for reading!

[fanficshiddles]

Beautiful Creatures, One Shot

Thanks for the prompt! Hope you like it. I would not be surprised if I end up doing more from this!  crimson25 asked: Y/N is an Asgardian slave. She's had a rough life surviving the king. One day without warning the all father banishes her for some bullshit reason (maybe she's been set up). She's banished to Jotunheim with no hope for survival. She tries to find shelter but it's no use, she collapses in the snow and ice and excepts her fate. Just before shes gone for good, Loki the king of Jotunheim finds her. After seeing how beaten, bruised, and malnourished she is, he takes pitty on her and decides that her suffering is over and takes her to his kingdom. He heals her cleans her up and gives her a decent meal. He wonders how a girl as beautiful as her was treated so badly. He then offers her a choice. Her freedom or a life with him. What will she choose.

-

To say she was cold wouldn’t even scratch the surface of how bitterly, aching cold she was. She was certain frostbite had sunk in, she couldn’t feel her toes anymore through her boots. Her teeth wouldn’t stop chattering and the thin excuse for a cloak around her would have just as well not been there as the biting wind just whipped through.

All she could see through the blizzard was white, she wasn’t even sure how far she could see. It all seemed to blend together. She tried to keep going through the snow, but it was up past her knees and so difficult to walk through.

She tried to keep going, but suddenly the ground just vanished beneath her and she tumbled down a small rocky hill. Falling to a heap at the bottom in the snow, she looked at her hands and they were frozen stiff. She tucked herself into a ball as much she could. Closing her eyes, she decided to just welcome death. Surely it would be better than this, and what she had already endured for most of her life.

It was time. She was accepting it. She just wanted the pain to be gone.

-

Loki was heading back to his castle on his Jordit, a giant furry creature that was capable of carrying Jotuns. It was similar and as agile as a cat and had a horn coming out of its head, but it was white as snow, to blend in easy with the land. Its tail was long but usually curled up on itself, unless in fight mode then it would flick around dangerously, a weapon in itself. They were fiercely loyal and loving with their master, but you didn’t want to get on the wrong side of one. Especially with its large claws and huge ice fangs. They were very rare, only Loki had one out of all the Jotuns in Jotunheim.

Loki halted his Jordit suddenly and squinted a bit as he looked through the blizzard. There was a motionless pile not far from where he was, but it looked odd as he saw bits of red cloth through said pile.

He dismounted his Jordit and gave her a pat on her thick furry neck, then made his way over to investigate. As he grew closer, his eyes widened as he was shocked to find an Asgardian girl. Though she was almost as blue as him from the cold. Crouching down, he was even more shocked to see she was still breathing, just.

How she wasn’t already dead, he had no idea.

Unable to leave her in such a state, he took off his large furry green robe and scooped her tiny body up into his arms, wrapping the robe around her. As he carried her back to his Jordit, her eyes fluttered open, they widened upon seeing the large giant carrying her. And she looked a little scared when she saw the just as giant animal that he was taking her to.

‘It’s ok, you’re safe with me.’ Loki said softly.

She passed out again as Loki mounted his Jordit, carefully with her cradled against him.

‘Come on, let’s get her back to the castle as quickly as possible.’ He said as he gave his Jordit a pat on the neck.

The Jordit leapt into action and easily bolted through the deep snow like it was nothing. Loki kept the Asgardian girl covered from the snow and he kept her as close to his body as possible, making sure to give off heat instead of his usual coldness.

They were back at the castle within minutes. They didn’t stop at the gates to wait for them to open, the Jordit simply jumped clear over the top of them and raced inside. Guards went flying as they raced by, just seeing a blur of white.

The Jordit skidded to a halt outside of Loki’s chambers. His maid was just finished cleaning his chambers when he slid down with the Asgardian in his arms.

‘Oh my! Let me get the fire going!’ The maid ran back into his chambers.

‘Thank you, my friend.’ Loki said and gave his Jordit a gentle stroke on the nose. She made a low purring noise before going into the next room that belonged to her.

Loki took the girl into his chambers and was glad to see the maid had gotten the fire going nice and quickly. He placed the girl onto the rug on front of the fire and then gathered as much pillows and blankets as he could find.

‘I’ll go fetch some warm soup.’ The maid rushed out of the room.

Loki carefully put a pillow under her head and then draped many blankets over her. He then went to his bathroom and got some warm water in a bowl and a cloth, as he returned the girl was mumbling incoherently.

He crouched down next to her and started wiping her face with the warm water. It wasn’t too hot, as he knew too hot would do her more harm than good.

‘What hurts most, pet?’ He asked softly.

She was still wide eyed as she looked at him. But her mind was quickly starting to focus and work more, she realised that he had not harmed her. That he seemed to be wanting to help.

‘My… my… hands…’ She said shakily.

Loki moved the blanket enough so he could see her hands. She couldn’t move her fingers. He carefully dipped her hands into the water, and in time, she was slowly able to move all of her fingers again as the warmth returned to her body.

When Loki’s maid returned with soup, the girl was sitting up with blankets wrapped around her.

‘Thank you.’ Loki smiled at his maid.

‘Anything else I can do for you, My King, just let me know.’ She bowed her head to him.

Loki nodded and smiled. ‘Should be fine now. Go and enjoy your evening with your family. Thank you.’

Loki turned to the Asgardian girl and held out the bowl of soup. Though it was only when he held it out to her that he realised the bowl was far too big, made for Jotuns.

‘Ah… Let’s try something else.’ He said sheepishly and from the palm of his hand his seidr seeped up in a green haze and the bowl turned to a good size for her.

But when he handed it to her, she looked stunned. Though she did take the bowl, she was staring at him with wide eyes.

‘I know this must be scary, seeing Jotuns. But I promise, we mean you no harm. I don’t doubt that you will have heard terrifying stories of how we are ravaging beasts that kill anything and everyone in sight. But that is not the case. Odin has a deep hatred of my kind and people.’ Loki explained, keeping his voice soft.

‘You… You’re Laufeyson? The King?’ She squeaked.

Loki nodded. ‘I am… Try and eat some soup, it will help warm you up from the inside. You’re still shivering… I’ll run the bath.’

He disappeared momentarily, letting her take a moment to herself to take in everything. But then she started eating the soup, and the warmth from the inside did help immensely. Though her clothes were still damp against her, which were making her continue to shiver.

When Loki returned, he noticed her still shaking.

‘I’ve ran a bath. I have an old robe of mine from when I was a child that might fit you, it might still be a bit large but it will do until your clothing dries by the fire.’ Loki said as he approached her. ‘Can you walk or do you wish for me to carry you through?’

She said nothing and tried to stand herself, but when she got to her feet her legs were like jelly and she almost fell over. But Loki reached out and caught her with his giant hand. He helped her through to the bathroom.

‘I know you don’t know or trust me, but I will need to help you into the bath. I don’t want you to drown in the large tub. You’re also still quite ill so I can’t leave you alone.’

She didn’t particularly care at this point, after being so close to death. She just wanted to get warm again. So she began taking off her clothes.

Loki had to hold in a few gasps when he saw her body. She was covered in bruises and was as thin as a stick, her ribs were showing and there was absolutely no meat on her at all. That’s when he noticed how rather sunken her face was, though she was incredibly beautiful. His heart broke thinking how someone could harm such a beautiful creature.

When she sank into the warm water, she felt better already. Loki tried not to stare at her, even though she was covered by bubbles.

‘How did you end up here? I don’t think we’ve ever had an Asgardian here.’ Loki asked.

‘I… I’m actually half Asgardian half Midgardian. I was born on Asgard, but when my father died, me and my mother were taken into the house of Odin and treated… well, she was a Midgardian. We were treated as we should have been. I am thankful though, Odin kept a roof over my head. Even when mother died too. As long as I did my chores and kept my head down. Though it’s my fault, I made him angry as I failed to clean his horses stable to standard… He banished me here. But I deserved it. It’s my fault. I just have never done stables before, just chambers.’ She shook as she spoke, trying not to speak bad of Odin in fear of repercussion.

Loki narrowed his eyes. ‘Do not stand up for him, I know how horrid he is. How he treats his people. He caused those bruises, didn’t he?’

She nodded.

‘Did he feed you?’

She paused before shaking her head. ‘Not really. A piece of bread every other day when I deserved it.’ She whispered.

Loki bit his tongue, trying not to show his rage.

He stayed silent for the duration of her bath. Once he was happy with her temperature, she was no longer shaking, he took her out of the bath and tried to avert his eyes as he helped to dry her. Then she put on the robe that was indeed a bit big, dragging on the floor. But she made it work.

Loki hung her own tattered clothes up to dry by the fireplace. He then let her rest in his bed.

‘Please, get some sleep.’

‘Thank you…’ She was scared, still untrusting. But she felt deep down that she could relax. That she was ok for now.

Loki left her to rest, he went to speak to his guard outside.

‘I’ve heard of Odin banishing his people or slaves. Even guards and soldiers. I think your father came across a few, actually. That were banished here. Most of the time, they were dead before they were found in the snow.’ His guard said.

‘What did my father do with them?’ Loki raised an eyebrow.

‘He took them back here, let them warm up and then he took them to one of the paths off Jotunheim, to Midgard or Vanaheim.’

‘Right.’ Loki nodded, deep in thought.

‘Is there anything else she needs, My King? Or yourself?’ The guard asked.

‘No, I think that’s all. Thank you.’ Loki nodded.

He quietly went back into his chambers and noticed the girl was asleep. He went and sat by the fireplace to read a book, though he barely turned the pages because his mind was completely elsewhere.

-

When the girl woke up after a few hours, she felt warmed to the bones and much better. There was a glass of water and fruit on the bedside table. She sat up and stared at it, her mouth began watering at the delicious looking fruits.

‘Go ahead, it’s for you.’ Loki said, startling her slightly. She hadn’t noticed him sitting on a chair not far from her.

She looked at him, then back at the fruit, then at him again. He motioned his head to it. So she didn’t wait any longer and grabbed a few grapes, stuffing them into her mouth before taking some strawberries and then tucking into a peach. It was so juicy and delicious.

Loki got up and slowly walked over to her. He sat down on the edge of the bed by her, the bed dipped quite a bit and she tensed up a little. He really was gigantic in comparison to her. So was all the furniture, her legs dangled down so far from the ground.

‘Are you feeling better?’

‘Yes… Thank you…. Why… Why did you save me? You’re a King… But you’re… Kind.’ She spoke so quietly, like a mouse.

‘I saved you, firstly because I am King. It is my duty to protect people, not only my own people but others in need too. Secondly, I am no monster like you may think. I’ve also been on the receiving end of Odin’s wrath before… And thirdly, it costs nothing to be kind. Why be nasty, it takes up so much energy.’ Loki shrugged.

She frowned a little. He really wasn’t acting like a King. Well, certainly not like Odin was as King, anyway.

‘You’re kind to your maid, too.’ She whispered.

‘Of course. She does a lot for me, as do all the other maids, my guards and soldiers. They are my people, too. I want what is best for them. I want them to be happy under my rule.’

She didn’t say anything else, just kind of looked at Loki in wonder for a bit. Then ate some more fruit and drank the water.

‘I know that Jotunheim might not be the most attractive of realms. But if you’re dressed appropriately and prepared, it can be a beautiful place. I want to offer you the opportunity to stay here, with me… If you so wish to. Or I can give you your freedom, I can take you to one of the hidden paths to another realm. Vanaheim or perhaps Midgard… Wherever you wish to go.’

She was really surprised at that. Not expecting anything else from Loki, she had thought he would just send her out of his castle now she was better.

‘I… I… don’t know… Maybe, Midgard… ’

‘Take some time to think it through.’ Loki said, his heart sinking slightly at her making the decision of wanting to leave so quickly. But then he didn’t expect anything less really, Odin had no doubt drilled into her mind that all Jotuns were monsters.

‘I’ll leave you for a while. I have to tend to my Jordit.’ He said with a nod, then strolled across his chambers and out.

She finished the fruit and then climbed down from the bed. She went over to her clothes and found they were dry. Though the thought of putting on those rags made her stomach sink. But she had nothing else, so she took off Loki’s old robe and put on her old clothing. Even her boots were falling apart.

Her mind was racing with what Loki had said. Though she knew it would be best just to get away from here. She had almost died in the snow after all. She couldn’t stay here. Surrounded by… monsters? Even her parents had told her horror stories about Jotuns as a child.

But then… why were they acting the complete opposite? And the castle she was in, it was like an ordinary castle in Asgard or any other realm, it wasn’t even made of ice like she had been told stories of.

She went over to the doors and managed to push one open, it was really heavy with how large it was. As she stepped outside, there was a giant guard right there, staring down at her. She looked up at him, terrified.

But he smiled a bit, which put her at ease slightly.

‘If you’re looking for Loki, he’s just in the next room.’ He motioned to the right with his spear.

She nodded quickly and scurried away from the guard and went towards the room he’d said. The door was slightly open, so she was able to just slide inside. She stopped just inside the door, eyes wide at what she saw.

Loki was with the Jordit. Such a strange creature she had never seen before. But it was lying down and Loki was brushing its long fur.

‘There we go, that must feel better. I’m sorry I didn’t do this sooner after our ride out. I know how your fur gets so tangled from the wet.’ Loki apologised to her.

The Jordit turned her head and licked his hand, making Loki chuckle. He put the brush down once he was done and stroked behind her ear. But then she perked her head up and her ears twitched as she looked over at the door, where the girl was stood.

‘Ah. Are you ok?’ Loki asked as he walked over towards the girl. His Jordit followed behind him.

‘I… I think so.’ She nodded.

‘This is my Jordit, she might look a little scary but she won’t harm you if you are no threat.’ Loki reached back and patted her neck.

The Jordit growled a little at the girl, unsure of her.

‘She’s beautiful.’ The girl said in slight awe, fear was there of course but with respect. She could tell she was a powerful animal. But she was a magnificent creature, there was no denying that.

The Jordit made a chirping noise instead of a growl, making Loki chuckle.

‘Yes, you’re beautiful. Everyone knows it.’ He said to her, making the girl smile at how he was acting with the animal.

‘She can be a bit big headed.’ He whispered to the girl with a smirk. The Jordit growled in a playful manner and butted Loki with her head, just avoiding him with her horn.

The girl giggled a bit, and Loki thought it was the most wonderful sound he’d ever heard.

‘I guess you are wanting to head to Midgard?’ He asked with a cough to clear his throat.

‘I uhm… I was wondering maybe if I could stay here instead? Just for a little while… Till I get my strength up, perhaps? If that offer is still on.’ She asked quickly, her cheeks heating up a bit.

‘Of course. We’d love for you to stay.’ Loki grinned widely.

[fioreofthemarch]

Finding Her - final chapter

Link makes notes, takes photos and keeps time on his quest across Hyrule, in the hopes of finding Zelda and staying sane until he does. [ Previous | First | AO3 ] with artwork by @nocturnalfandomartist at the end!

A photograph of Hyrule Castle seated on a rocky mesa of petrified Gloom. Where once malice and corruption rose high into the air, there is nothing but clear skies. 

A photograph of the rolling meadows of Hyrule Field, with Lookout Landing approaching just over the next hill. Ahead of the camera walks a woman wearing traditional garb, her short golden hair still a little damp.

A photograph of a group of Sheikah, young and old, at the gates of Lookout Landing as they greet the golden-haired woman. Their arms are outstretched towards her, tears in their eyes. 

A photograph of the five Sages of Hyrule, crowded around the woman as they draw her into a group embrace. The woman has her back to the camera as a young Gerudo vai hugs her tightly. 

The same picture as above, only now the woman has turned to the photographer. She smiles, surrounded by her friends and allies. Despite the weariness on her face, she radiates warmth and contentment. She is finally home. 

Caption: Thank you Rauru and Sonia. Thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you tha

---

Welcome to the Purah Pad!— Home Screen —

 Today’s Purah Pointer: [Placeholder - Robbie can you please add something? Do NOT call me if you can’t think of anything.]

> Camera (Scanner) 

Scanner sub-function selected. Please place text to be scanned in view of the Purah Pad camera.Scanning…Processing…

Scanned text uploaded. Eight (8) documents have been added to the Purah Pad.

1. BATTLE IN THE SKIES: A SPECIAL LUCKY CLOVER GAZETTE REPORTby Penn of Rito Village (Guest Correspondent)

26th Satorember 104AC 

The citizens of Hyrule were treated to an extraordinary sight yesterday after what appeared to be an enormous, demonic dragon emerged from the ruins of Hyrule Castle.

It was approximately midday when what is being dubbed the ‘Demon Dragon’ appeared. Eyewitness accounts state that a second entity, which some have called the ‘Light Dragon’, was also spotted and appeared to confront the Demon Dragon, however this has not been verified. 

About an hour after the Demon Dragon appeared, there was a colossal explosion in the skies that caused several grassfires on Hyrule Field. These were swiftly contained by brave volunteers of the Zonai Survey Team who happened to be in the area. The Gazette can confirm there were no ground casualties.

Earlier this week, the swordsman Link and the Sages of Hyrule departed Lookout Landing to mount an assault on the Demon King Ganondorf. The outcome of that battle is not yet known, and investigations continue as to whether this mission has any links to the Demon Dragon. 

More to come. 

2. A letter, with a stamp that reads ‘Rito Courier Certified’

Link,

Forgive the chicken scratch, I don’t write a lot of letters. 

I heard the Princess is back. Good for her. Knew she wouldn’t abandon us. Good job dealing with the Demon King too -- you saved all our tailfeathers there. 

Tulin’s back with us now. Just writing to say thank you. He’s got a long way to go, but I can tell that hanging out with some responsible adults has put him on the right track. Though sometimes I wish he’d never learned about this Sage business. I’ve lost count of the number of times I’ve heard ‘Would a Sage have to do his chores, Dad?’ Ridiculous. 

If either you or the Princess need a holiday, Rito Village welcomes you. I’d sure like to hear the story of the battle against Ganondorf from someone other than a cocky teenager. Let’s just hope that’s the last of Hyrule’s troubles for now. We all enjoy a good fight, now and then, but a broken wing never really heals if you know what I mean.

Fly well, Teba, Elder of Rito Village 

3. A pamphlet advertisement printed on paper that smells of fireproof elixir

MINE-CART LAND: GRAND OPENING 

YUNOBOCO IS PROUD TO PRESENT THE PRIDE OF ELDIN CANYON, NOW OPENING TO THE PUBLIC FOR THE VERY FIRST TIME. COME FOR A FUN-FILLED DAY WITH ACTIVITIES FOR THE WHOLE FAMILY:

‘THE ROCK ROAST REBELLION’ DINNER AND SHOW 

MINE CART RIDES AND TARGET MINI-GAME

MINE TOURS 

MINING

THIS ONE-OF-A-KIND ATTRACTION IS NOT TO BE MISSED. CONTACT YOUR LOCAL YUNOBOCO SALESGORON FOR TICKETS. 

FIREPROOF ELIXIR SOLD SEPARATELY.

YunoboCo is the author of this pamphlet for the purpose of copyright. © YunoboCo 104AC

(overleaf)

Link! Zelda! 

Look at this! Isn’t it great!? We got it back from the Lucky Clover Gazette just today. Took a bit of negotiating with Traysi to let us use her printers, but we got it done. I can’t believe Mine-Cart Land is gonna open for real — it’s all thanks to you or we’d all be Demon King lunch!

The other Sages said you’d gone back to Hateno to rest. They’ve all got fire ants in their pants wanting to get back to rebuilding, but I say we’ve all deserved a break. How many people can say they saved the world twice? 

Anyway, let us know next time you’re in Eldin. Slergo and Offrak have been asking about you every day. Dinner’s on us!

Yunobo 

4. A letter written in silver ink on lily white paper, in cursive that borderlines on unreadable 

The 8th Day of Octoroktober, 104 After Calamity 

Princes Zelda Bosphoramus Hyrule 5 Wildflower Crossing, Hateno Village Necluda, Hyrule 

The Reception Celebration of the Wedding of Their MajestiesKing Sidon and Queen Yona of the Zora 

By command of the King, the Advisor Muzu is directed to invite

Princess Zelda Bosphoramus Hyrule And Sir Link, Knight-Captain of the Hyrule Royal Guard

to be present at Zora’s Domain on the 3rd day of Naydrember, 104AC

Dear Princess Zelda, 

I hope your recovery in Hateno with Sir Link has been restorative. As Winter draws closer and the days shorter, time of respite is often best spent with close companions. 

My dear Sidon has told me all of what happened to you in the ancient past, and I must extend my deepest sympathies for the hardships you have endured. I cannot even begin to imagine them. I must also express my gratitude that Sidon has returned to us. While he is so humble as to pass all credit for the victory against the Demon King to Sir Link and his fellow Sages, to those in Zora’s Domain he is a hero.  

It would give us great joy if you could join us in a month’s time for I do so wish to meet you. However, I will understand completely if you choose to remain in the quiet solace of home. 

Sincerely, Queen Yona of Zora’s Domain

5. An informal letter, written in an assured hand 

Zelda,

Did you also get an invite to Sidon and Yona’s wedding? Or second wedding? I’ve never even been to Zora’s Domain. You will have to tell me what to wear. Is it cold? Is there really water everywhere? Not that I have a problem with that. 

So your sabbatical with Link has been just ‘good’? I get the sense you’re holding back details. If you don’t want to put anything in writing, you can call me using the Purah Pad. I could tell, Zelda, that when Link brought you to Lookout Landing after our battle with the Demon King, he couldn’t wait to whisk you away again. And what’s this about leaving Hateno next week? So soon!

I suppose I understand. You and I have our kingdoms to take care of. It is nothing less than our duty to do as much as we can. Heroines, I don’t think I’ve ever had a holiday. Even going to Lanayru is ‘official business’ as Chief of the Gerudo. But I will get to see you, and we can talk and laugh and drink all evening. Until then, sister. 

(Or you can simply call me! I want to hear everything, Zelda. Even if he proposes. ESPECIALLY if he proposes). 

Yours, Riju

6. A typed letter, on paper with a watermark of a Sheikah eye 

10.20.104AC

Princess Zelda and Champion Link Lookout Landing Central Hyrule

Princess, Champion--

Thank you for your latest report from Lookout Landing on the rebuilding efforts post-Upheaval. I trust that Purah isn’t working you too hard and that Josha is proving a very dedicated assistant. I know that Impa’s instruction was for you to rest as long as you need, however I disagree. On the contrary, I believe that engagement and activity is the best way to stay invigorated. It worked for me after all.  

I’m pleased to report that the manufacture of a second Purah Pad is nearly complete. I’ll need to finish the work at my lab in Akkala, so will be returning there. You’re welcome to visit any time. I suggest doing so before Dincember. Once Winter starts in Akkala, it really settles in. 

Speaking of Akkala, Granté visited last week and wishes to relay that the house Link purchased from the Hudson Construction Company is complete. He also said something about not knowing if you wanted plants or children’s toys in the house and that he ended up purchasing both. I suggest you liaise with him directly on that matter. 

Regards, Robbie 

7. A hastily scrawled note bearing the mark of the red Yiga eye

To the scoundrel who calls himself Link,

You have slighted us for the last time! Master Kohga will have his vengeance. 

Already our forces gather weapons of ultimate death beyond your comprehension! Just last month, we debuted the HOVERDOOM MK.4!   

Your day of reckoning approaches. As soon as we find his excellency , you will know true fear! So just let us know if you have seen him… if you want to live!!

Damn it, why am I even writing this note? I’ll just leave it in our hideout in Karusa Valley. Link will never get in there… 

8. A carefully and neatly written note, on lined paper 

Zelda, Hyrule’s adored Princess 

I am dictating this note to Josha, as my construct arms cannot grasp a writing quill. I had intended to create an attachment to allow this, however it was not to be. 

It is my request that you gather the Sages to Lookout Landing, where Link and I have built a new balloon ship. Link may no longer have my brother's arm to aid him, but his strength and endurance have proven invaluable in this endeavour. With this ship I intend to bring everyone to the Temple of Time on the Great Sky Island. It will be my gift to them as Sages, and then I must depart. 

There are words I must say before then that I fear will fail me if I try to convey them to you in person. However, you mean a great deal to me, so I have written them down instead. 

Zelda, my dear friend. You had no obligation to aid my people, yet you sacrificed everything to do so. When I thought all was lost against the Demon King, your faith and hope for the future gave me the will to continue. It was your bravery in the face of annihilation and your vigilance over many millennia that turned the tides in our favour and allowed us to finally end the war. Hyrule will be forever in your debt and this act will be your legend. 

I am merely grateful to have survived to your era, to have met your friends and allies (whose wedding feast I was honoured to attend), and to have seen that Hyrule will be under the care of those who are not only wise, but courageous and kind. One such Hyrulean sits at my side now, helping me write you this letter. 

As a final note – during your absence, I saw firsthand just how deeply Link cares for you. When you described him to me, I pictured a brave Knight of course, but the Link I met was more than that. He overflowed with tenacity, even in his darkest moments, and while the past half-year has been difficult, I don’t think he ever truly gave up hope of seeing you again. You are to him as the sky to the stars and the ocean to the waves; whatever you dream of he will dedicate himself to its fruition. I will leave you content in the knowledge that together, you will guide Hyrule to new beginnings and greater futures. 

We will be ready to travel to the Great Sky Island in three days. I hope you will join us on the journey.

— Mineru 

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Log date: 14:00. 11th month, 12th day 104ACLocation: Akkala Beach, AkkalaWeather: Calm 

Well, it is done. I have read every log, viewed every photo and listened to every recording on this Purah Pad. It is quite the account; the valiant quest of Link, a Knight of Hyrule, to awaken the Sages, defeat the Demon King, and reunite with his beloved Princess Zelda. 

With me. 

I scarcely know where to begin. I can hardly believe I am here at all. Yet, I am here, thanks to Link and the Sages, and Queen Sonia and King Rauru… All of them devoted themselves to Hyrule’s salvation, for which I will always be grateful. Link tells me I was of aid in the final battle, and while it is true that my power was able to restore the Master Sword, a blade is only as strong as its wielder. 

So is this it then? Is this true peace, after all this time? I myself have been restless, falling from memory to memory. I cannot shake Rauru and Sonia from my mind. They were the ones who gave me my life back after all, or so Mineru theorised before she left us. It feels like only yesterday that I was dining with them all in their grand palace. I keep expecting to find Rauru in his hall talking with his constituents, or Sonia out in a garden tending the flowers, or Mineru lost in a book within her vast library. I wish we could be together, but I take solace that they can now rest. I will honour them by protecting the Kingdom that fate has passed to my care – it seems the least I can do. 

Since that fateful day of the defeat of the Demon King, Link and I have attempted to rest. However, I believe it is in neither of our natures. We spent some time in Hateno, the first two days of which we did little more than sleep. During that time, Link clung to me day and night, protesting the second I was out of his grasp, as though to pin me to the earthly realms lest I float up into the sky again. Then, once it became clear I was back for good, neither of us could bear lazing about. The more he told me of his quest to find me, the more I wanted to see all of our friends and allies again. The more I told him of my journey in the past, the more he wanted to show me the Zonai relics he had found. We were back on the road within a week, and have just come from Lookout Landing to visit Akkala and see our new house. 

In quiet moments I have been reading the extensive field notes that Link has kept on this Purah Pad. I cannot describe the feelings they provoke in me. I am constantly struck by the tremendous efforts of all those in Hyrule. Their headstrong Princess set another Calamity upon them, and never did they despair, only banding together to vanquish Ganondorf once and for all. And Link… he suffered so greatly when he learned what happened to me. I’ve felt compelled to apologise for it, and often. When I was lost in the past I ached to return home, but I accepted my sacrifice as necessary. I never thought what sacrifice really meant. To lose yourself is one thing; but to be lost to all those who love you? Such consequence didn't occur to me at the time. 

He does love me, doesn't he? It overwhelms me to read his words, they tremble with it. Yet somehow I never knew. I was so foolish as to never even tell him myself. All that time together, before the Calamity, before the Upheaval, and we never said such simple words. We took for granted that which felt obvious but could be so much richer if confessed. We’ve remedied that now, many times over. And I do love him, more than anything, and I want the life he dreamed of for us. Certainly, we have already begun, first with the house in Akkala, and lately with much practice at the necessary steps towards a family of our own. (I do hope no one but Link ever reads this.)

To that point, this will be my only entry into this particular Purah Pad. It is no longer mine. Through every hardship and triumph of the past half year, this little device has been Link’s constant companion. So I entrust it to him now, to continue recording our story and the story of Hyrule. I pray it will be a good one, though perhaps with a little less excitement than what has occurred thus far.

By the Goddess’ Grace,

Zelda 

A photograph of Link, resting underneath the shade of a palm tree on Akkala Beach. He wears his ancient Zonai tunic – a makeshift beach outfit – and has his hair loose. His eyes are closed and he appears to be taking in the warmth of the sun, and the cool of the ocean breeze. 

Caption: I better wake him up, the sleepyhead...

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Log date: 14:30. 11th month, 12th day 104ACLocation: Akkala Beach, AkkalaWeather: Calm

A lot has happened. Plenty to write. This Purah Pad has given me a voice I didn’t know I had. Think I’ll start with an account of how we defeated the Demon King (or Demon Dragon) for that Lucky Clover Gazette column Penn mentioned… 

But not now. Not for a long while. 

Zelda’s here. We’re both here. It’s a sunny Autumn day and we have a home to go back to, one that’s up on a hill, overlooking the sea. I’ll make her dinner; a meat and rice bowl maybe, with ginger and Hyrule herb? Then tomorrow we’re back on the road – the whole Kingdom is ours to explore. I’m up for anything – somewhere new to find, someone new to meet, a new puzzle, a new enemy, a new fight. I can face it all, face anything, with her or without. But it doesn’t matter, not right now. She's here, in my arms, watching me type this. Better not write too long. Fate gave us back the time we nearly lost. I’m going to make the most of it. 

Until next you hear from me, 

Link 

A photograph of Link and Zelda, together on the shore of Akkala Beach, the sun shining above. Link laughs and blushes as Zelda snaps the photo – still smitten, even after all this time. 

Caption: Home and heart, heart and home. 

artwork by the wonderful @nocturnalfandomartist