#senne trip

[sennetrip]

Yosemite  🏞

[zerogate]

Advances in modern medicine have regularly allowed people to “come back from the dead,” as it were, and many who do report extraordinary visions and experiences from their trip to the other side. A Dutch study of 344 people who survived cardiac arrest found that between 12 and 18 percent had deep and affecting experiences on the threshold of life: meeting dead loved ones, being ushered through a tunnel of light, existing outside of their bodies, and being filled with love and bliss. The life review is one of the most powerful and comforting of these visions. It is characterized by the conviction that you have sweeping knowledge of all things and can simultaneously reexperience your entire life. “When my expansion was over, I was everywhere, I was everything at the same time,” one woman recalled. “I was the sky, I was the ground, I was the trees, and I felt the wind blowing in my leaves, I was the sea and I was also my parents, my friends, people I had not met before but who, at that point, I knew because they were part of me.”

A former wildland firefighter named Ken Senn told me that he suffered an abdominal hemorrhage while hunting with his son in the Bitterroot Mountains of Montana. His son, Caleb, had already dislocated his shoulder trying to help his father over rough ground, so the two men were forced to spend the night by a fire in subfreezing temperatures hoping rescuers would find them before they died. Ken was semi-functional from blood loss and Caleb was deep in shock from an unreduced shoulder. At dawn, Caleb set out to try to make it to a road. “After Caleb left, I was at peace because I knew he was going to be okay,” Senn said. “But I knew I was dying. And that was when the mountains started to move, started to ripple. And I realized that the entire world was alive, everything was alive. And I saw all these animals below me and they were all dying, and I knew I was going to die too, one day, but we were all linked. And I felt at peace because I knew my body belonged to the earth. The Angel of Death was whispering in my ear.”

The similarity with many religious experiences is striking. Renowned yogi Paramahansa Yogananda describes the moment of his enlightenment as a young student in India: “Soul and mind instantly lost their physical bondage and streamed out like a fluid… the flesh was as though dead; yet in my intense awareness I knew that never before had I been fully alive. My sense of identity was no longer narrowly confined to a body but embraced the circumambient atoms. People on distant streets seemed to be moving gently over my own remote periphery. The roots of plants and trees appeared through a dim transparency of the soil; I could discern the inward flow of their sap… A swelling glory within me began to envelop towns, continents, the earth, solar and stellar systems, tenuous nebulae, and floating universes.”

-- Sebastian Junger, In My Time of Dying

[sentavoarts]

hey, ur oc is super cool! got any hcs w/ them in adwd? i’d love to know!!

HI THANK U FOR THAT but yeah i have some:

His name is Sen btw! (where i basically got my name from)

Post will include these things: -Basic info about him (fav color, food, music taste, etc) -More detailed things (previous jobs he worked, body details like scars and tats, etc) -Hcs with them and grim (uses his actual name)

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Basic stuff:

-He/they pronouns

-Sennes is his actual first name with Sen being a nickname

-Fav color is this specific shade of blue ( 8BECFF)

I can't even explain why he likes it he just does and thinks that's awesome of him.

-Fav foods would be those local filipino noodles (pancit canton if u wanna look it up) and that samanco ice cream

-His overall genre of music would be a mix of indie , jazz and, somewhat pop

-Fav artist is arctic monkeys or laufey!! (projecting here)

-He doesn't really have a style he just wears whatever he thinks looks good on him but it may range from vintage to things those skateboard boys wear!

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More detailed things about him:

-He's quite scared actually not sure if it was seen that much in that art but he has a scar across his face from accident (technically an attempt of casp trying to take his soul) from when a wine bottle fell on his face.

-On the note of wine he actually had a bartending job while he was in college to help pay for his rent. He's had some other previous jobs before this one and here they are in order: flower shop cashier > cafe barista > bartender.

-Honestly the job i was gonna give him wasn't in the list of jobs (psychiatrist) but if i were to pick in the list it would be mortician i just think he would probably kinda enjoy it??? because if you think about it being a mortician is like those asmr tiktok games where you give a make over to a zombie or smth...

-Tattoos! All over his arms! And on his nape:

the one on his nape is inspired by a song called "crying lightning" by arctic monkeys!!!!

-He has a mole on top of his eyelid and freckles everywhere.

-Actually pretty buff as he can bench press around 291 lb (strong baby boy)

-He's actually had some self defense training from his parents when he was younger and picked up boxing and fencing as a hobby.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ

Hcs with Casper!

-Like one of the options in the game, Sen would absolutely ENJOY putting little ribbons all over Casper's hair. He might even play around a bit and make him have goofy hairstyles (that Casper would KILL him for but we ignore that).

-He calls Casper "Casp" because he just thinks its really cute. Along with "Cas" "Buwan"(filipino for moon) and "Vinegar" (Teasing)

-Inspired by that convo in their official discord server, They would have a BLAST doing each other's skincare/ make up while listening to 2015 white girl songs!

-Following the one before this they would ROCK karaoke night.

-Sen is a avid music listener and would probably try and get Casp into so many other artists.

-(based on the game) Sen's teased Casp about his plush Azrael but really Sen has a whole ARMY of plushies and Casp REALLY gets back at him for that. Basically would go like:

"Your not really all BIG and SCARY with that plushie thats so PINK and CUTE!"

"Says the shithead with a army of plushies on his bed... seriously why do you need that many"

"SHUT UP DON'T SAY THAT ABOUT THE CHILDREN"

"THE CHILDREN??????????????????"

-Idk why but i feel like he would let Casp use markers to color in his tats!

-Sen would 100% bring him on a whole road trip to a more country/rural place to just enjoy the peace and quiet (Like one of those aesthetic vanlife tiktoks

-Sen is pretty decent at drawing and i feel like Casp would be too if he tried hard enough but i just imagined them giving each other lil drawings they made (could even be on little notes left on the fridge or little letters scattered everywhere)

-On those days Casp is in the soul sickness time will be spent snuggled in bed and having nice warm meals!

-Sen would probably always ask Casper for a sparring session because that seems like it would actually be fun! Plus we don't really know much about how Casp fights so... that would be interesting (he would be butt hurt if he loses).

-Their def a >:| and :3 duo

-I feel like deep in my bones Casper would probably like playing guitar/bass. So basically what im saying is they could sing and play TOGETHER! YIPPPEEEEEEEE!

nyways i think i better stop here because this list is getting LONG. And currently thats all the hcs i can think of.

THANK U FOR ASKING THIS AND READING THIS WHOLE INFO DUMP!!! YIPPEE!

[vriskarlmarx]

Get to know 9 people ask game

Tagged by: @vagoasdf

Last Song Listened to: (Don't Fear) The Reaper by Blue Öyster Cult

Currently Reading: "Zapatismo para el sur del mundo. Antología de textos zapatistas" compiled by Irma Senn and Moro Maxwell, featuring texts by different members of the EZLN

Sweet/Spicy/Savory: sweet sweet sweet sweet

Obsession: i watched death note recently and it's been rotating in my mind a lot. satosugu also, permanently. and unfortunately for all of us, star wars. also a permanent affliction :/

Relationship Status: relationship anarchist in several fulfilling personal relationships idk what else to call this

Last thing I googled: "lazarus"

Currently working on: im actually traveling so not actively working on much besides things related to the trip for the next week. but ostensibly im working on a fic for star wars rarepair exchange and a non-fiction text for a different thing irl.

Tagging @belladonnaboudreaux @fishmech @felinewasteland @catgirltaint @cat-pics-from-zero @quantecosealmondopuoifare and uuuuhhh whoever wants to do it :^)

[ao3feed-sobbe]

We Can Make No Anthem

by Prevalent_Masters

The old Sander Driesen could not imagine war. He could not imagine death. He could not imagine this fight lasting longer than a few months, even as the Germans overwhelmed them, even as he loaded a gun with inexperienced, fumbling hands, even as he shot it over and over again, even as he watched men die around him and his city go up in flames. He could not imagine what would come as he walked through rain and mud with the remains of his division west to the IJzer. He could not imagine what would come even after that first true battle, sunk down in trenches for two weeks straight, peppered by machine gun fire and shrapnel, awake for days at a time and walking over, sitting on, tripping over, shitting on corpses–even then. Even then. The mind cannot wrap itself around such horrors. Sometimes, instead, it simply breaks apart.

Words: 9633, Chapters: 3/16, Language: English

Fandoms: WTFock | SKAM (Belgium)

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death

Categories: F/M, M/M

Characters: Sander Driesen, Robbe IJzermans, Yasmina Ait Omar, Jens Stoffels, Moyo Makadi, Zoë Loockx, Senne De Smet, Milan Hendrickx, Jana Ackermans, Aaron Jacobs (WTFock), literally every named character in wtfock and several from other skamversus show up in this, Guest Starring:, half of the skam nl and skam france casts, allusions to druck characters, and a single italian

Relationships: Sander Driesen/Robbe IJzermans

Additional Tags: World War I, Alternate Universe - World War I, major character death is not the main pairing, Graphic Violence, Blood and Injury, War, Illness, Period-Typical Homophobia, Period-Typical Racism, Mental Health Issues, Bipolar Disorder, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Suicidal Thoughts, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Falling In Love, Spies & Secret Agents

from AO3 works tagged 'Sander Driesen/Robbe IJzermans' https://ift.tt/rwFVciv via IFTTT

[springvaletales]

((Welp. This mantra didn't work.))

Thoughts about a long-dead NPC who wasn't plot relevant until he got stuck in my head, GO!:

His egg was the last of his clutch to hatch and was the smallest of his siblings when he did, and his parents were worried he wouldn't survive the flight back to a mainland continent; they left him in the care of a friend of theirs (Velenna) for a few more decades while they led their other offspring over the ocean.

They were not seen again, and whenever Vekrom asked Velenna if she knew where they were, she would only give him a sad look.

Vekrom had a dream since his wyrmlinghood of a place where all races could live together and coexist.

He got these ideas from growing up on the Dragon's Eye archipelago; an isolated series of islands in the middle of the ocean where dragons of all colors came to lay their eggs in relative safety and lived under a (very fragile) truce to not cause each other harm.

Vekrom had a very intense interest in learning about other cultures and always badgered other dragons returning to the islands from hunting trips for any information he could get about the other peoples who lived there (he rarely got much).

Though he never called her 'mother', and relied on her more as a good friend and mentor, Vekrom was fascinated by the way the sunrise would flare and filter light through the crystalline structures of Velenna's true form, and would later use this inspiration in the design of the iconography for his future kingdom.

When Vekrom finally decided that he was going to stop waiting for his parents and fly across the ocean to pursue his coexistence dream, he asked Velenna to come with him.

He had ADHD but no-one on Skaadan had met a Brass dragon before and just assumed they were all Like That.

He was a vegetarian until he fell to corruption because he found it too easy to imagine the conversations he could hold with the sheep/cow/hare/etc., and would lose his appetite every time.

He once befriended a Dragonborn mercenary who was sent by a rival to kill him by talking about butterflies for six hours.

Following this, he and Senn-Dugaal would often have intense debates on which of their preferred butterfly species was superior (Senn-Dugaal's beloved Aadi's Eye or Vekrom's favorite Dawnbringer).

He had a ravenous taste for fusion cuisine, and anonymously funded nearly every eatery in his budding kingdom that served such (he'd have done it openly, but Velenna always convinced him to keep it low-key and not make a scene).

((I don't need to develop Vekrom's personality because he's dead. I don't need to develop Vekrom's personality because he's dead. I don't need to develop Vekrom's personality because he's dead. I don't-))

[katesharmasheart]

Okay but lowkey i found funny that all the things that could have caused conflict are cancelled

[sanderxxrobbe]

😋 The fun continues..Our HANDSOME boys..YAY it's been a while Senne..LOOKING GORGEOUS 🔥 Can't look away 🥺🧡 Aww Keep smiling Robbe..Such a CUTIE..Gee I just love him..🥰 Moyo your the man..Always with something to say..😁😘 Pretty boy Jens..Keep the boys in line..Loving this trip and we aren't even there yet..Keep the posts coming please 💯💯❤❤

[sennetrip]

The Grand Canyon, part of a series of illustration of National Parks I visited during my road trip through the southwest of the USA

[ashen-crest]

Cal, looking at the blank walls in Emry’s new Vornik townhouse and mentally decorating them:

“Then a little mirror there, and a painting there…a painting of Senne, I think.” Emry tilted his head. “Senne?” “Of course,” Cal said brightly. “You don’t have any reminders of home in here yet, and the city had so many lovely little art galleries Marley was showing me. Perhaps we could take a trip up there and...” She cleared her throat and smoothed her skirts. “I’m sorry. You can decide what to put on the walls, of course. It’s your home, after all.” But Cal, who was rarely wrong on any count, was wrong on this one. It wasn’t his home—not until it was hers as well.

emcal my beloved

[xeoooooooooo]

Y éste #TBT solo es pa decirle a los hombres que no usen shortsitos de jean... Eso solo le luce a Carlos Vives 😅🙈 . #FelizJuernes Ma Pipol 👊 . . . #throwbackthursday #throwback #trip #travel #europe #eurotrip #backpacker #wanderlust #paris #senna #senne #menstyle #streetstyle #river #sky #jeanshort #landscape #menshorts

[godsvvept]

º   .   ♔   ⸻   the  capital  of  king’s  landing  welcomes  GWYNESSE  of  HOUSE ( s )  LANNISTER  (  by  marriage  ) &  GOODBROTHER (  by  birth ),  the  LADY  of  LANNISPORT.  the  THIRTY  year  old  CISWOMAN  is  reputed  to  be  ENTERPRISING  and  MELLIFLUOUS,  but  with  the  eyes  of  court  watching  their  every  move,  they  might  turn  out  to  be  IMPERIOUS  and  DESENSITIZED.  when  songs  are  sung,  their  verses  speak  of  THE  TIDE  VICIOUSLY  BREAKING  AGAINST  THE  SAND  AND  SPLASHING  AGAINST  THE  WALL,  A  NEVER  ENDING,  ALL  TOO  FAMILIAR  CALLING  ;    “WHAT  IF  I  TOLD  YOU  I’M  SPLIT  IN  HALF?  WHAT  IF  I  TOLD  YOU:  I’M  THE  KNIFE?”  ;  PENELOPE,  THE  QUEEN  OF  ITHACA,  PATIENTLY  TENDING  TO  THE  WEAVING  OF  A  SHROUD  AND  OF  A  FUTURE  OF  HER  OWN  DESIGN.  whispers  throughout  the  seven  kingdoms  claim  that  their  allegiance  lies  with  HOUSE  LANNISTER  OF  LANNISPORT  /  HERSELF,  where  they  conspire  to  GET  RID  OF  THE  SQUABBLES  ON  HER  SHIPYARD  AND  INSTAL  HER  HUSBAND  AS  RULING  LORD.  but  in  the  end  fealty  means  little  when  you  play  the  game  of  thrones.

full  name  :  gwynnesse  lannister,  née  goodbrother. alias  /  nickname  :  gwyn,  ness,  senne, the  gilded  siren. age  :  thirty. gender  and  pronouns  :  ciswoman  and  she / her. orientation  :  demisexual  demiromantic. occupation : lady  consort  of  lannisport  ( as  wife  of  the  lord  heir ),  secretly  acting  regent  of  lannisport. faceclaim :  naomi  battrick.

date  of  birth  :  first  month  of  the  year  of  270. parents  :  gorold  goodbrother  &  eydis  farwynd. siblings  :  eleven  sisters  (  two  older,  nine  younger ) and  three  brothers ( all  older ). significant  other :  tba  lannister,  lord  heir  of  lannisport. offspring  :  at  least  five  children.  she  does  not  always  remember  their  names. religious affiliation : the  faith  of  the  seven ( public;  converted  by  marriage ),  the  drowned  god ( by  birth ). 

inspirations : eleanor  guthrie ( black  sails ), jocelyn  castell (  jamestown ), penelope  of  ithaca ( odyssey ), cersei  lannister ( asoiaf ), ariel ( the  little  mermaid ), georgia ( ginny  &  georgia ), isabella  the  she  wolf  of  france (  history + knightfall ), livia  drusilla ( domina ), emma  of  normandy ( history + vikings  valhalla ), nurbanu  sultan (  magnificent  century +  history ), caroline  collingwood  and  marcia  roy ( succession ).

                    application  ; full  statistics ; tdlr  and  connections  below  the  cut.

trigger  warning  for : toxicity ( both  for  her  #girlboss  gaslight  gatekeep  ways  and  for  her  actually  poisoning  her  father  in  law  oop. )

as  the  third  born  daughter,  it  seems  all  that  she  could  be  has  already  been  taken  by  either  gael  (  begrudgingly,  the  childrearing  )  or  gyda  (  their  mother’s  old  chainmaille  )  —  straining  for  individuality  or  selfishness  (  one  and  the  same,  at  times,  but  who  cares  ),  young  gwyn  would  attempt  to  reach  out  for  father  instead,  an  endeavor  that  while  others  (  most  of  the  other  goodbrother  girls  )  would  fail,  she  would  succeed.  before  the  rebellion  made  him  harder,  and  even  afterwards,  she  took  prize  in  being  one  of  the  few  to  pry  a  smile  out  of  him,  and,  most  of  all,  she  enjoyed  accompanying  him  to  the  family  mines,  learning  of  the  ores  and  the  business  and  economy,  while  taking  home  whatever  shiny  little  rock  she  could.

although  she  trained  with  the  sword,  as  well  as  the  needle  (  her  mother  had,  after  all,  been  a  notorious  shieldmaiden  and  now  she  was  a  loyal  wife  who  had  given  her  lord  fifteen  children  ),  gwynesse  preferred  the  former,  if  only  because  being  a  lady  paired  up  well  with  what  she  was  truly  good  at  :  cunning.

still,  once  she  was  sixteen,  she  asked  to  take  a  part  of  a  crew  that  would  travel  to  essos.  although  she  cared  nothing  for  physical  exertion  activities,  she  greatly  enjoyed  the  trip  —  it  made  her  realize  that  the  iron  islands  were  nothing  compared  to  the  world  and,  perhaps,  she  would  rather  be  elsewhere.  somewhere  better,  greater.

the  realization  of  her  wish  was  a  double  edged  sword:  while  she  did  manage  to  go  somewhere  greater,  she  almost  died  (  or  actually  died,  and  was  brought  back  to  life  by  the  drowned  god  who  wished  to  set  her  to  greatness,  in  her  own  mind  )  when  the  ship  wrecked,  and  she  washed  around  westerland  waters.  she  was  rescued  by  the  heir  to  lannisport,  who  took  a  liking  to  her  and  took  her  to  his  home  to  be  cared  for.  there,  fearing  she  would  be  killed  or  worse  for  being  an  ironborn,  she  pretended  to  be  amnesiac  and  was  allowed  to  remain  at  the  castle  out  of  courtesy.  

during  that  time,  she  effectively  managed  to  make  the  lord  heir  fall  for  her  (  and  if  she  fell  for  him  too,  it  was,  then,  a  sweet  consequence  ).  once  she  fell  with  child,  she  arranged  so  her  brothers  would  come  retrieve  her  —  the  shot  gun  of  sorts  wedding  was  a  good  enough  deal,  for  she  did  bring  a  big  dowry,  even  if  her  father  -  in  -  law  (  and  possibly  her  husband,  though  he  was  easier  to  bend  )  was  not  very  pleased  with  having  an  ironborn  for  a  daughter.

within  two  years  after  that,  her  husband  was  called  to  lead  a  part  of  the  lannister  fleet,  and  gwynesse  remained  at  lannisport,  bregundigly  bearing  babies  and  facing  scrutiny  from  the  westerlanders  who  thought  of  her  as  too  foreign  to  be  trusted  —  a  sentiment  her  father  -  in  -  law  shared,  refusing  to  allow  her  in  and  aid  him  with  anything  of  importance,  much  to  her  distaste.  at  some  point,  she  begins  poisoning  him  with  lead  (  something  that  has  no  taste,  no  smell  and  that  slowly  can  drive  one  to  madness  and  several  other  unpleasant  physical  ailments  ),  which  leads  him  to  become  more  dependent  on  her  and,  of  course,  she  takes  advantage  of  that  to  help  him  rule  lannisport.

currently,  it’s  been  over  ten  years  since  the  poisoning  started,  and  if  anyone  points  at  her,  gwynesse  is  offended  and  can  easily  begin  tearing  up  if  necessary,  even  offering  to  take  on  his  food  and  drink  if  they  are  so  suspicious.  her  husband  defends  her,  likely  unbeknownst,  something  she  is  glad  for.  gwynesse  has  no  qualms  in  engaging  in  falsity,  and  even  takes  enjoyment  of  that,  of  this  power.

her  father  -  in  -  law  is  greatly  debilitated,  of  course,  and  she  is,  for  all  purposes,  mistress  and  ruler  of  lannisport,  a  duty  she  does  not  take  lightly  and  tries  her  best  to  always  stay  on  top,  either  that  be  to  know  who  comes  into  town,  what  goods  arrive  and  of  the  deals  happening  in  it — it  is  an  understatement  to  say  she  is  controlling,  and  likes  things  her  way.  while  some  may  frown  at  such  power  being  granted  to  an  ironborn,  most  have  come  to  terms  that  she  is  as  westerlander  as  one  can  be,  proved  by  her  loyalty  to  lannisport  and  to  the  many  children  she  has  birthed  and  raises  under  the  light  of  the  seven.  

truthfully,  she  does  not  feel  westerlander  —  but  also  she  no  longer  feels  ironborn.  this  is  not  a  sentiment  that  disturbs  her  much,  however,  for  she  is  content  with  her  position  and  very  busy  occupation,  but  she  is  growing  more  bothered  by  the  day  by  the  ironborn  growing  bolder  around  the  westerlands  coast  and  how  that  may  disturb  her  security  in  her  role.  besides  mother,  wife,  ruler,  daughter,  sister,  she  is  now  being  pushed  to  be  a  diplomat,  a  position  that  may  be  all  too  suited  to  her  silver  tongued  ways,  but  that  she  is  less  pleased  to  juggle,  as  it  may  jeopardize  all  that  she  prizes  and  worked  so  hard  to  build.

i’d  love  more  goodbrothers,  particularly  geirdis,  her  twin  sister  (  annie  has  put  the  wc  on  the  main  with  all  the  information  but  i’m  glad  to  help  out  with  more  ideas  if  needed  ).  the  goodbrothers  are  often  around  lannisport,  either  for  business  or  for  familial  affection.

the  friendship  is  not  entirely  stretched  to  the  other  ironborn,  but  it  wouldn’t  be  unlikely  some  do  come  in  lannisport  and  i  think  interactions  between  gwyn,  who  has  definitely  been  ‘corrupted’  by  the  way  of  the  westerosi  and  enjoys  dealing  with  the  gold  price  rather  than  the  iron  price,  and  her  old  countrymen.

anyone  from  the  westerlands  or  who  stops  by  lannisport  really.  this  also  includes  people  who  have  not  come  to  lannisport,  but  do  deals  within  the  city  or  with  the  lannisters  of  lannisport,  as  she  often  speaks  for  them  all

due  to  the  children  and  to  her  duties  at  the  realm  of  lannisport,  she  is  not  often  away  from  it,  but  it’s  possible  her  husband  could  have  taken  her  to  some  nearby  places,  or  even  acquaintances  from  that  travel  over  a  decade  ago,  when  she  was  just  one  out  of  many  goodbrothers

the  lannisters  of  lannisport!  please!!!  at  the  moment  i  only  have  her  husband  and  his  sister,  but  they’re  both  pretty  interesting  —  there’s  all  sort  of  things  to  explore  with  her  husband,  his  position  at  sea,  the  shift  to  proper  lordship  and  how  he  deals  with  her  ambitions  and  everything  else  in  their  relationship;  his  sister  is  rosamund  lannister,  who  is  acting  as  lady  /  doppleganger  for  myrcella  on  kings  landing.  i’ve  sent  wcs  for  the  both  of  them  but  i’m  very  game  to  discuss  or  change  anything  if  necessary!

[bitching-barista]

How about Yasmina, Robbe, Sander, Younes, Milan, Senne, and Noor ditch everyone else, form their own best friend squad, and plan their own trip

[peaceoutofthepieces]

you were my crown

chapter 5

Ao3

~^~ For the entire week, Lucas seemed to adjust well.

He knocked on Jens’s door and waited impatiently for Jens to drag himself out of bed before entering. (This might’ve had something to do with the guards, or it could be that Lucas actually was listening to him. Jens could know it was the first and still tell himself the latter.) He’d hesitantly started riding lessons with Sander, and seemed more upset about Jens always accompanying than his less-than-stellar capabilities. He’d taken to the duties of a servant without a hint of hesitation; his hands already knew their way around a stable, a wash basin, a bedroom. Jens could admit Lucas certainly had talented hands.

Jens also noticed that Lucas seemed to get along fine with most of the others. He and Sander seemed to get closer by the day, and he seemed to hold an easy respect for Robbe, softening every time in the face of the youngest’s kindness. He even shared an odd camaraderie with Lies that irritated Jens most.

Because of course, with Jens, he still insisted on being entirely insufferable.

It was made worse by the moments in between. They were rare, but Jens caught each and every one of them and clung on. Times he couldn’t help but laugh at one of Lucas’s smart remarks, even when they were always at his expense, and Lucas clammed up in surprise, staring at Jens with twitching lips. Lucas’s own laughter was even rarer, but even more appreciated. He would give a huff or snort at Jens’s expense on occasion; and then there were the blessed times when Lucas seemed to be feeling kind, and his lips curled in amusement along with Jens.

Jens thought they might have just settled into the jabs and barbs so quickly that it now seemed wrong to abandon them, and maybe they were actually forming their own deformed brand of friendship.

He couldn’t say he disliked it entirely. Some part of him had grown a little fond of Lucas’s teasing, when he realised there wasn’t much true malice behind it. Not often, anyway.

But it could be better, so this something wasn’t enough.

Jens rarely had the opportunity to get to know someone the way he could with Lucas. The only time he’d ever really made friends was with Moyo and Aaron, and even they were still based on circumstance. They were the only Lords’ sons his age around. Robbe, Senne, and Sander had all become close to him through necessary proximity. That didn’t mean he didn’t really love them, or thought they didn’t really love him, but it was different. It was another thing Jens thought had been handed to him. He knew if he was unlikable they still didn’t have to like him, but it was different.

Lucas was the first person Jens had chosen for himself.

He didn’t feel that the circumstances mattered in this instance. Jens had been the one to look at him and listen to him and choose not only to stand up for him, but to have him stand by his side. He didn’t know what it was, but something had drawn him to someone for the first time in his life.

And that someone was insistent on pushing him away.

But he wouldn’t let it hurt. Lucas was doing good—he was getting better by the day. That meant he was keeping himself safe. That was what mattered.

The morning Jens woke up on his own with the sun high behind the curtains was when he knew Lucas had finally messed up.

It was a fuzzy realisation in his half-asleep state, but he woke up quickly. He sprung into a sitting position and flitted his eyes around the room. Him, asleep; curtains closed; table devoid of breakfast. He didn’t know exactly what time it was, but he knew it wasn’t as early as usual.

Which meant Lucas was late.

Jens could do nothing more than sit in his confusion for the few minutes it took to hear a loud knock on the door. He stumbled out of bed, preparing himself to scold Lucas for being late. He was tripping over with his foot caught in the bedding when the door swung open, and now he was readying to scold Lucas for never waiting for permission.

But Lucas always waited, now, so that wasn’t right, either.

It wasn’t Lucas. It was Sander.

Jens stumbled free and managed to get out, “What—“

“The carriage never got here,” Sander interrupted without preamble. “It’s almost an hour late.”

“An hour?” Jens kicked his fallen bedding out of the way with a string of quiet profanities before walking closer to Sander. His heart picked up speed as his throat filled with questions. He asked, “Does she know?”

Sander nodded grimly.

Jens swore again and rushed to his wardrobe, flicking through in search of a worn tunic. “What do you know? Did you hear anything?”

“No. Like I said, the carriage hasn’t come. That could be the problem. It may never have even gotten there. It could have been raided, something could have happened the horses…anything.”

Jens considered. “It might not be Lucas.”

Sander shook his head, shrugging. “He could be trudging his way here, cursing you for messing up.”

“Let’s hope so,” Jens sighed, settling into his clothes before sitting down to shove on his boots. “Go look for him. Ride out; take Senne.”

Sander bowed slightly, then raised a brow. “What are you going to do?”

“I’m going to try to convince my mother not to kill him when he does get here.”

“She can’t do anything if it’s a simple mistake, surely.”

Jens looked up at him, stood, and raised his brows back.

Sander pursed his lips and gave a curt nod. “Okay, I’m going.” He strode away, threw open the door, and almost rammed straight into Robbe.

Robbe clasped onto Sander’s shoulders and squeaked an apology, then said, “Jens. You need to come to the drawing room, right now.”

Jens didn’t waste any time arguing. He ushered Robbe to lead the way and followed after him, feeling Sander at his back. He knew what would be waiting for them, but he also didn’t have a clue. It was Lucas, one way or another. Something had happened to Lucas, or something was about to happen to Lucas.

Jens hoped that, either way, it wasn’t his fault. He didn’t need to give Lucas any more reasons to hate him.

“She’s not in the middle of killing him, is she?” Sander asked, optimistic as ever.

Robbe grimaced. “I don’t think that’s going to be a problem, actually. It’s not like that.”

“What?” Jens almost clipped Robbe’s heels, and slowed down only to have Sander step on the back of his boot. “What do you mean?”

Instead of answering, Robbe pushed him into the drawing room, where his mother, Lies, and Lucas already stood, surrounding a woman who sat in one of the plush armchairs. It took Jens a second to realise it was Lucas’s own mother, Tess. She lit up when she saw him.

“Jens,” she greeted, all excited warmth, before catching herself. “Your Highness. It’s so lovely to see you again.”

Jens met Lucas’s eyes briefly, and they gave no indication of what was going on. Robbe and Sander lingered at the door, and Robbe gestured towards the hallway, silently telling Jens they would be nearby. Jens wanted him to stay, but he nodded in acknowledgment. As they left, he moved closer to the others and smiled as kindly as he could. “Tess,” he returned, wincing at the clear confusion in his voice. “Is everything alright? Can we do something for you?”

Her eyes widened and she quickly flapped a dismissive hand. “No, no, I’m not here to ask anything of you. It’s just about Lucas. You understand, I can’t let him walk around alone, don’t you? It’s not safe.”

“Not safe,” Jens repeated, tilting his head, flickering his eyes to Lucas again. “I assured you, Lucas is well taken care of here. Have we done something wrong?”

“No,” Lucas said quickly, looking at the Queen.

“Not you,” Tess agreed. “Them. The ones painting my son as a criminal. He’s no criminal! I was there!”

Before Jens could reassure her or Ellis could make a cutting remark, Lies stepped in. She neatly stepped up to Tess and took the woman’s hand, squeezing in comfort. “Of course,” she said softly. “We won’t argue with what you know. But what makes you think anyone intends to do harm? It is more likely a mistake has been made, no?” When Tess hesitated, Lies frowned. “Has anyone made you feel threatened, Tess?”

“Someone is lying about him,” Tess insisted. “He shouldn’t be left out alone.”

Jens wanted to respond. He should point out that Lucas wasn’t alone, that the carriage had been sent for him every morning and obviously must have brought them both here. He shouldn’t say that it was unlikely Tess would be able to do much in the way of protecting Lucas, anyway, and the boy would likely be less afraid heading into whatever possible danger there was alone. Before he could say anything, Lucas grabbed onto his arm.

The touch was so unexpected that Jens froze up, feeling the contact zap through him and root him in place. It was only the thin layer of Jens’s sleeve separating their skin.

“Jens, I need to talk to you.” His voice was tighter than his grip. It was clear that, whatever he had to say, he would rather have kept to himself. But there was a request there now that Jens wouldn’t deny.

He nodded and drew his arm towards himself, bringing Lucas closer. Before he could guide the boy away, however, his mother clasped his shoulder with a warning look.

Lies tugged gently on Tess’s hand. “While you’re here, can I show you around? You can see where Lucas is spending all his time, and I can get you something to drink.”

“Lucas,” Tess began.

“I need Lucas for a moment, if you don’t mind, Tess,” Jens butt in. “He won’t be far, and you’re in good hands with Lies, I promise.”

She waited for Lucas’s nod before carefully accepting the offer, letting Lies guide her out of the room. Lucas and Jens remained, with Ellis staring at them expectantly.

“Why does she think you’re in danger?” Jens asked, cutting right to what bothered him most. He didn’t want to let the conversation be derailed into an argument right off the bat.

Lucas winced. “She’s sick,” he said, quiet and anxious. Jens had never seen him portray such emotion, and even now he was concealing it as much as he could. Desperation was the only reason it slipped through the cracks. “I know that’s not the best way to describe it, but I don’t know how else to explain. She gets this way, with all of these ideas, and she can’t be talked out of it, but afterwards…” He turned to Jens now, and he wore a fierce expression, but his eyes were pleading. “I can’t leave her alone.”

Jens wanted to reach out and comfort. He clasped his hands together and squeezed tightly, then changed his mind. He set a careful hand on Lucas’s arm. Lucas didn’t shake him off.

“Mother,” Jens started.

The Queen was looking at the door, after Lies and Tess. She turned to the two of them and said, “She will stay here.”

Lucas’s parted lips were the only show of surprise. Jens was sure even he looked more dumbfounded. “What? Really?”

“I understand what he means,” Ellis said, addressing Jens only, it seemed. “I will not ignore an unwell woman, not when I have the facilities to help. Just as I have let Robbe and his mother stay here for years.”

Jens did not know what to say. He wanted to point out how very different it was. Robbe was family, and Ellis had always adored him and his mother. His mother, who had been a Lady, and already a friend of the Queen’s. To him, at least, the difference was glaringly obvious; Lucas was essentially a prisoner.

Was Ellis making Tess one, too?

Was Jens horrible for even thinking she would?

Robbe hadn’t been family before getting here, he reminded himself. Ellis did not seem ill-intentioned or conniving in her offer; as sure of herself as ever, but with no hints of a hidden agenda, no signs of cunning. Maybe Jens should trust the process. Maybe this was their chance.

“But,” Lucas started, and then quickly snapped his mouth shut. Jens understood they were feeling the same. Lucas did not want to trust the offer, or even believe it, but he couldn’t bring himself to risk arguing, either. He hadn’t quite swallowed his suspicions down, however, before saying, “That is a kindness I don’t know how to accept, Your Majesty.”

Ellis lifted her chin. “Good thing the offer is not for you, then. I will discuss it with her myself. You can be grateful that it makes your job easier, now.” She looked from Lucas to Jens and back, then walked out before any of them could put in another word.

They were locked in silence for a moment, and then Lucas stepped back abruptly, pulling his arm from Jens’s touch as if it had burnt him. Jens had forgotten his hand was still on him. It felt more natural to have contact with Lucas than it probably should have, considering Jens had touched him less than a dozen times so far.

“What was that?” Lucas asked, voice wobbly as he stared down at his wobbly hands. He looked up at Jens. “Why would she do that?”

Jens pursed his lips. “She’s not a bad person, Lucas. I believe she meant it.” For now.

“But she doesn’t understand. You don’t understand,” Lucas corrected. “She’s sick, but it isn’t—I can’t—“

Jens took a hesitant step closer to him, but was careful not to encroach. “We do. Robbe’s mother, she has similar problems. Yasmina calls them episodes, when the delusions come, or other times when she…she gets kind of sad? Almost goes mute. But she’s gotten better,” he added, comfortingly. “Since staying here, she’s been given a lot of help, not just by Yasmina. There are ways it can be improved, so that it isn’t so intense.”

“She isn’t crazy,” Lucas said savagely.

“Of course she isn’t. Did I say something that implied—“

“She doesn’t need your help. I’m the one who takes care of her.”

That, he had a much easier answer for. “That’s why my mother said it will make your job easier. Now you can stay here. In the adjoining chambers, like you’re supposed to.” Jens smiled, feeling hopeful, unusually nervous, something in his heart jumping and kicking.

Lucas didn’t look as pleased with the offer as he had hoped, hands curling into fists at his sides before unfurling again, fingers stretching towards the floor. Jens’s gaze clung to them because it was easier than watching Lucas’s frustrated scowl. “Why are you so determined to make my life miserable?” he demanded.

“What?” Jens deflated. “I’m not. I’m trying to do you a favour.”

“That’s what you always say.”

“That’s what I always mean,” Jens insisted.

Lucas’s lips twitched and a muscle in his jaw jumped, holding something back.

Jens felt tired, all of a sudden. “Why do you always make it harder? Why won’t you just accept my help when it’s offered?”

“You aren’t doing any of this to help me,” Lucas exclaimed, taking a step closer. “This is for you. Everything’s always for you. I would have been better off with your mother’s death sentence.”

“And how well off would your mother be then, huh?” Jens snapped.

Lucas recoiled as if he’d punched him. His gaze darkened even further, but Jens only softened his own.

“This is for her. She will be taken care of, Lucas. I swore that I wouldn’t let harm come to you, and I know nothing would hurt you more than any harm coming to her.” Jens knew he was on the right track when Lucas’s harsh expression, and then his head, dropped, leaving him staring at the floor. “You won’t be cut off from her. You will be nearby at any time now should she need you.”

Lucas still clearly didn’t want to give in. Jens needed to give another little push. He took another step closer, and Lucas’s gaze shot up to him. “I could tell from that first moment watching you that you weren’t a bad person. I chose right then to put my trust in you, hoping it was the right decision, and hoped that you would prove it to me eventually. Now I’m asking you to sleep with only a meager wall and single door between us, still hoping you’ll prove me right. But you haven’t had any tests to see if you could trust me, and I know that. So let me to prove it to you through this.”

The speech, unsurprisingly, earned him a look of pure disbelief. “Your test of trust is with my mother’s life?” Lucas asked, with a high-pitched laugh of derision.

“I am trusting you with mine,” Jens said.

“You could kill me at any moment easier than I could lay a finger on you. You made a point of showing it, the first day.”

“And I haven’t. So, really, that should be enough to earn your trust already.”

Lucas stared at him, then grit his teeth. “I’m already late. I should be working, or these arguments will all be pointless when your mother simply has me hung.” He spun on his heel before Jens could argue, and disappeared in a second.

Jens blew out a breath and ran a hand through his hair, trying to catch his bearings.

Then Lucas’s head popped back through the door.

“Have you had breakfast?” he asked, reluctantly.

Jens wordlessly shook his head.

“It’ll be in your chambers in five minutes.” Lucas didn’t move, but looked away, then back at him. “I’ll have mine in my new room.”

He left before his words could sink in and he could catch Jens grinning dopily after him.

|*~^~*|

Jens instantly realised that it was strange, having Lucas so close. His comment about breakfast was clearly his way of giving in without hurting his pride, but Jens refused to actually let him use the damp and dusty room adjacent to his own that hadn’t been used in…honestly, he couldn’t recall if it had ever been used. So they had breakfast together in Jens’s room, which was not the wholly unusual part, but which felt different already, anyway.

It wasn’t until the day had passed as normal, and Lucas was there to snuff out his fire and blow out the last lingering candles before stepping through the door on the far wall of Jens’s room, closing himself away to sleep and stay so close, that the strangeness of the situation sunk in.

Lucas was right there. Behind the door that Jens couldn’t stop staring at. Jens wouldn’t have to go through anybody else to get to him. He was right there, probably not freaking out half as much as Jens, despite how obviously stranger it must have been for him. He could be sleeping already, curled up on the single cot, snoring softly. Did Lucas snore? If he did, should Jens be able to hear it?

He listened, heard his own breath, held it, and listened some more. He could still hear nothing but his own pulse in his ears.

He rolled away from the door and forced his eyes shut.

What did it matter that Lucas was just there? He was just…there. It didn’t make all that much difference. They weren’t suddenly exchanging goodnights; Lucas had not even looked at him during this new task of leaving him in the dark. Lucas hadn’t treated him any differently all day. If anything, he’d only been more anxious to sneak away, checking on his mother in every moment he could find.

Jens should probably be thinking more about Tess, too. She had balked at the Queen’s suggestion at first, and adamantly refused. Jens had been the one to gently persuade her, and Lucas had given him the stink-eye during the whole interaction. But he had reluctantly softened, Jens noticed, when Tess did, looking at Jens and responding kindly and taking his hand as if she already held a fondness for him. Maybe he should be thinking more about Tess. He wasn’t even sure which room she was staying in, and she might have been the key to his whole problem.

He rolled onto his back, frustrated. Lucas would only hate him more, hearing him think that. It didn’t matter that Jens didn’t mean it in any manipulative sense. It sounded bad, even to himself.

Having weirdly panicked non-thoughts about Lucas had probably been better than this. He rolled onto his other side and returned to staring at the door.

Lucas was just behind it. Jens could get up and open the door and be able to look at him. But why the hell would he do that? It didn’t matter. It was unusual. Jens didn’t think anyone had ever stayed in that room. They were just a door away from him.

He wondered what Lucas thought of it, because of course, he had given no reaction when Jens had proudly presented it to him other than a mumbled ‘thanks’. It was much smaller than Jens’s room, with not even half as much furniture or decor, but it was a considerable upsizing from Lucas’s home. Lucas probably hated that, too, on the basis of some principle Jens would not understand and that Lucas would cling tighter to precisely because Jens would not understand.

Jens was getting to know him very well, he realised, with only half sarcasm.

But he couldn’t figure out what Lucas thought of the room, or if Lucas was sleeping as he ought to, or staring at the door like Jens. He didn’t know if Lucas snored, if he was sleeping, or if he seemed more peaceful or happy in his sleep, without that furrow in his brow, or if he was sleeping well or what position he slept in or if he slept without a shirt like Jens or if he had dreams or nightmares often or if he was thinking about this half as much as Jens was. He concluded that the last question was one he could probably answer on his own, and Lucas probably wasn’t thinking about hi—the same questions at all.

But he kept trying to figure it out, anyway, and avoided wondering why he felt any of it was important, and dreaded the thought that every night from now on would have the same questions, the same crisis.

It was enough to eventually fall asleep because he couldn’t keep his eyes open any longer. But he kept his eyes directed at the door until then, and afterwards Lucas was there, curled up in the darkness behind Jens’s lids without that furrow between his brows, sleeping peacefully where Jens could see him.

|*~^~*|

Two days after Lucas moved in, Jens found him cornered by Lotte in the hallway.

This would not be surprising or alarming if they had already met. Instead, Lucas had managed to go through all of his time here without ever being introduced or running into the little Princess. It was hardly all luck; Jens was willing to bet his mother had something to do with it. It would be easy, considering Lotte still stayed closest to the Queen’s own rooms and had classes with her tutor and maids for too many skills for Jens to keep track of. Ellis seemed to be purposefully short on details when Lotte asked about Lucas, and Lotte was smart enough to know she wasn’t going to get anywhere. She had been bugging Jens to let her meet him instead, on the simple basis it was unfair that she was the only one who didn’t even know what he looked like. Jens had always had to say no because he’d never been able to find Lucas at the time.

Now, it seemed like she’d managed it herself.

“Who are you?” Lotte demanded, with all the air of authority she’d learned from her siblings. Then, not even leaving a second to respond, “You’re him, aren’t you?”

Lucas blinked, looking shocked speechless. “Who?”

“Lucas.” They both snapped to attention as Jens joined them, Lotte with a small, sheepish smile and Lucas with a straighter spine. Jens nodded at him and gestured at the Princess. “This is my little sister, Lotte, who usually remembers more manners than that.”

Lotte made a small sound of protest, but Jens was wholly enraptured with Lucas’s softening features, his lips curving in the barest of smiles. “Oh,” he said. “I’m sorry, I should have known that.” He did a gracious dip; not quite as polished as Sander’s usual bow for the girl. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Princess. I’m Lucas van der Heijden.”

Jens would not be upset that Lucas showed the youngest member of the family more courtesy than he’d shown him. He was good with children. That was sweet. Like his smile.

Lotte flushed, but then shook her head. “You can call me Lotte, like Robbe and Sander do. And Senne and Jens’s other friends.”

“And Yasmina, and Luca, and anyone else who treats you like the favourite, right?” Jens raised a brow.

Lotte scowled and elbowed him pointedly.

Jens bent slightly as a burst of breath escaped him, but wasn’t derailed from looking at Lucas. “Don’t let her fool you. She’ll treat you like the favourite, too, but she’s not as sweet as she looks.”

Lucas only watched him in amusement. Then he looked to Lotte and very subtly rolled his eyes. (It could not have been more obvious.) Lotte giggled back, and Lucas’s smile widened a fraction, and Jens should’ve been annoyed that Lucas was getting along with absolutely everyone else on the basis of teaming up on him.

But, well. Sweet. He supposed.

Still, he couldn’t show that he was swayed that easily. He tapped Lotte’s shoulder. “Aren’t you supposed to have a dozen or so classes now? What are you doing harassing my servant?”

“I’m not harassing anyone,” she said, indignant. “I wouldn’t have had to if you let me meet him before.”

Jens held his hands up. “Don’t blame me. And don’t avoid the question.”

She pouted and gave a slight shrug.

“What are you doing?” Lucas asked him, in what should have seemed like a retaliation but wasn’t. His expectant expression made it clear he thought the answer might be ‘looking for you’.

Jens could have said that, and he wouldn’t have been lying. But he did have a more prominent reason. “I was going to ask some more questions about the Ackermans’ stay.”

Lucas pursed his lips, and now his expression just said, Ah.

Jens had been mostly avoiding thinking about it, if he was entirely honest. Every time he remembered, a tangled ball of unwanted emotions lodged itself in his chest and made him flighty with anger and anxiety. His mother had no right to make this decision for him; he was sticking by that. He wasn’t sure if it quite explained why the whole ordeal made him feel sick. Why what it might lead to made him feel sick.

He really had liked Jana, once upon a time, did have that boyhood crush on the beautiful Princess, which seemed unavoidable. And it wasn’t that Jens hadn’t thought about her in the years since; but in the way of missing a friend, not a lover.

Lucas, stuck with Jens as he was, hadn’t heard this spiel. Robbe was the only one Jens spoke to about it in any detail. The others, however, had all become victims of his sour mood and been given a gruff explanation in the first couple of days. It was enough for the one mention to make Lucas wary.

Between all of that, and the recent living developments, Jens was running pretty low on sleep.

“We’ll leave you to it, then,” Lotte said lightly. It would have come across better if she hadn’t winced.

Jens sighed, stroked her head briefly, and said, “Don’t miss anything. Go on, get Lucas to escort you if you want, then let him get back to work, okay?”

It dragged both of their smiles back as Lotte shyly glanced at Lucas and turned to lead the way. This was what made Jens a good prince—he was born to please. “Okay,” Lotte agreed, hugging him quickly around the waist before scampering off.

Lucas followed, but paused and glanced back at Jens. Whatever he wanted to say didn’t come, but he raised his brows at Jens instead. Jens nodded his assurance, feeling oddly touched, and Lucas nodded back once before disappearing, too.

Jens continued on his original trek to his mother’s chambers, and stopped when he found the door ajar. Brow furrowed, he nudged it another inch to poke his head through, but stopped again instead when he caught the shimmering glint of chain mail.

“It’s not wise,” De Smet’s deep voice slunk towards him. “He should not have been allowed to stay in your son’s chambers. You know the threat he poses.”

Jens’s heart knocked against his ribs, but he stayed stock-still as he heard his mother sigh. “I do not have to explain my decisions to you, Mathias, and certainly not this many times. I did it for the woman, not the boy. And I will not keep shooting down my son’s orders.”

“You should. He needs to be warned. The boy shouldn’t have been let live, never mind allowed so close.”

“Jens will not be warned,” Ellis said, half-exasperated and half-dismissive. “I don’t believe that telling him anything would cause the reaction you’re looking for. Jens is soft. If anything, curse Lucas too much, and it will fall on deaf ears.”

De Smet shifted, moving his back out of Jens’s sight and, presumably, closer to the Queen. “It is a dangerous game, Ellis. His kind only rot and let it spread.”

“Then let us hope,” Ellis bit back, “that Jens will dig himself out first. The boy will slip up on his own. You need not spread this urgency and push him further under Jens’s protection. Have some trust and some patience.”

De Smet sighed, now, and the clunk of his boot brought him back to where Jens could see before Jens quickly made himself scarce.

|*~^~*|

His anger had only soared to new heights after the encounter, and it pushed him to seek out Sander. He found him in the lower halls this time, heading towards the kitchen for an early lunch with Lucas at his side. They both came to a stop before Jens quite reached them, Lucas with his usual disinterest and Sander with his usual smirk.

“Don’t,” Jens said, before the knight could get a smart word in. “I am not in the mood.”

Sander’s brow twitched. “Clearly.”

“Did it not go well?” Lucas asked. “Your questions.”

Jens looked at him and felt something fierce thrum through him. He pursed his lips, giving a slight shake of his head. “She wasn’t there,” he lied. Which probably wasn’t the best way to earn Lucas’s trust, but better than the truth. Which was that he’d eavesdropped on more plans for Lucas’s eventual demise and ran away before he could get caught.

At least his mother could sit in the comfort of being right. Jens only felt more anger towards them and more protective of Lucas after hearing their words.

Why did they still think he was such a threat? Jens thought that if Lucas really wanted to do away with him, he would’ve found a way by now.

So unless he had Jens under a spell and this was what left his thoughts running every night, leaving him to eventually die a slow death by exhaustion, he was harmless.

“Do you have enough energy left for a training session first?” Jens asked Sander before any of them could question him further, or outright call out his lie.

Sander rolled his head and blew out a breath, considering. “For you, I suppose.” He nodded towards his companion. “But I already promised Lucas I wouldn’t abandon him, and he gets his lunch along with yours.”

Jens huffed, then shrugged it off. “Actually, that works out fine. He can train with us.”

Lucas gaped at him. “Your mother wants to kill me because she thinks I stole a sword, and now you want to teach me how to use one?”

Jens flushed, even while pausing to think about it. “Well, honestly, I probably would, but I meant for hand-to-hand combat. It might stop the guards from thinking they can manhandle you if you know how to break their wrists.”

This got Lucas’s attention.

Meanwhile, Sander clutched at his chest and tipped his head back with a dramatically pleased sigh. “Gosh, I enjoy it when you lose all that princely propriety.”

He spoke with an odd amount of genuity for words that were obviously sarcastic. Jens was hardly proper. Lucas’s lips twitched in amusement, as if he was thinking the same thing.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Jens said. He nudged at Sander’s shoulder until Sander changed direction, turning back the way he and Lucas had come. Jens fell into step behind and Lucas hesitantly followed alongside.

“Where do you do…this?” he asked after a moment.

Jens glanced over, then nodded towards the windows. “The knights train outside in different groups, depending on their title. I sometimes lead sessions and train with them, but Sander and I got into the habit of one-on-one when he came to us and I helped catch him up. There are plenty of unused rooms down here by the weapons hall.”

“Catch up?”

Sander looked around at them. “I told you, I haven’t been here long. My training followed the usual process, but it was much more accelerated. But it meant I got special treatment and supposedly learned from the best, and now I can leave them in the dust.”

He threw Jens a wink, and Jens rolled his eyes. “We’ll see about that.”

Lucas was biting down another smile.

Jens waited in the middle of the room for Sander as the knight shuck off his coat and left himself in a light grey tunic. Lucas hovered by the doorway and examined the empty room, the blank stone walls only brightened by the odd lantern and a lone tapestry. Lucas moved to examine it, and Jens wished him luck. It was too worn and faded to depict anything with much clarity. Jens wasn’t sure how old it was or how long it had been here, or if anyone else even knew it existed. Sander had examined it with care at first too, however, so perhaps Jens just wasn’t enough of an artist to understand. To him it was only another battle on another field, this one blurrier than the rest.

“Alright, Lucas, you wanna see how it’s done?” Sander called to him, meeting Jens in the center of the floor.

Lucas turned to face them and crossed his arms, giving a slight shrug. The curiosity was clear in his face.

“We’ll explain as we go.” Sander winked at Jens and spread his feet into a fighting stance, then gave a beckoning flick of his fingers.

Jens narrowed his eyes and mimicked the other’s position, then held. Sander grinned and lunged first. He was quick, being almost a head smaller than Jens, and knew his strength, but Jens had the advantage of experience. He tracked the blow and could have easily caught it, but instead he spun out, not letting his stance falter. Sander followed and narrowed his eyes.

Jens allowed a glance at Lucas. It would have been easy for Jens to land Sander on his back, but somehow, he thought that would have annoyed Lucas more than it would have impressed him. He needed to let Sander show just how good he was, and then Jens could prove that he was better. He met Sander’s eyes, and knew they had come to the mutual decision to put on a show.

Sander snorted quietly, but simply rolled his shoulders before going again.

They traded blows and parries, dancing their way around the room without getting too close to where Lucas hung at the sidelines. Sander started calling out tips as he moved, turning them into jokes more than helpful drops of wisdom. Still, Lucas seemed to be listening, from the few glimpses Jens got.

It was marvelous at replacing the tension in Jens’s muscles, and that was the important thing. It was energy instead of anger thrumming through him now, and Lucas was nearby, and there wasn’t anything immediate to worry about. This, Jens could manage.

Eventually he feinted a blow and caught Sander off guard, making him wobble and stumble back. Jens grinned, letting the anticipation of the win fill him as he checked to make sure Lucas was watching, before he found his back to the wall with the wind knocked out of him.

“Most important lesson,” Sander called, to where Lucas was hiding a smirk behind his hand. “Never take your eyes off your opponent or immediate threat. Don’t assume you’ve won before the fight’s over.” He braced his arm over Jens’s chest like he was leaning against a particularly sturdy post, rather than holding him back, and looked over his shoulder to offer Lucas another one of those winks, and Jens swept his feet out from under him.

Sander sprawled on his back with a grunt and let his arms flop to the sides. Before Jens could even speak, he let out a loud sigh.

Jens knocked Sander’s boot with his own and gazed down at him. “You were saying?” Sander flipped him off and he huffed, then addressed Lucas without looking up. “Most important lesson. Never let your guard down. Don’t assume the fight’s over before you’ve won.”

He looked up, and the most marvelous thing happened—Lucas grinned at him.

Then he was staring at the ceiling.

He wheezed as he hit the floor, and wondered if the burst of laughter he heard was actually Lucas or a result of the daze he was in. Sander kicked his leg from his own position on the floor, where he’d obviously found it appropriate to take Jens down with him. “You were saying?” Sander drawled.

Jens probably deserved that.

He watched Sander get to his feet and pushed himself onto his elbows, and then Lucas was there, offering a hand. Jens stared at him for a moment, then clasped it carefully, letting Lucas haul him up with surprising strength. Lucas released him instantly, but the feeling lingered in his fingertips much more than it had with that first brief touch outside the carriage.

Lucas brushed dirt off the back of Sander’s shoulder and was rewarded with a smile, and Jens tried not to feel bitter as he dusted himself off. Lucas was his servant, for Heaven’s sake.

“Your turn?” Sander asked him. He nodded at Jens, and Jens froze with his hands on the bottom of his tunic.

Lucas considered him, then shrugged. “I learn better by doing.”

Jens shouldn’t have felt any hesitance. It wasn’t as if Lucas would provide tough competition. He swallowed. “If you’re alright to wait for lunch for a bit longer, then sure.”

“I can’t promise I’ll be as much fun,” Lucas said.

Jens eyed him as he traipsed back to the middle of the floor, pointing at where Lucas should stand in front of him. Lucas rolled the sleeves of his tunic up to his elbows as Jens and Sander had and positioned his feet with Sander’s guidance. Jens watched him before saying, “I think you’ll surprise us.”

Jens came to the realisation quite quickly that he was unprepared for Lucas’s hands on him, and the earlier touch did nothing to lessen the effect. Lucas had kept Jens at a distance as much as he could. He’d had no reason so far to help Jens dress, and while he prepared every bath, he’d made sure not to be in the room any time Jens had one. Normal servants wouldn’t blink, but Lucas hadn’t been raised with that teaching. Jens didn’t really think it was all about modesty, but it came back to trust. It didn’t matter that Jens should be the vulnerable one in those instances; it was too close either way for someone untrustworthy. Jens understood that Lucas pretty much came with the rule ‘do not touch’, and only made the most minor of exceptions.

The rule had been forgotten now. Lucas didn’t seem to think twice about the close contact. Jens pushed aside the thought that it was out of excitement to get a punch at him. Lucas must have actually paid attention, because he managed a hit to Jens’s shoulder within a few minutes and stayed light on his feet. He managed to block Jens’s attempt, but he put him back a few steps, so Jens reached after him.

“Wait, here, it’s like this.” He waited for Lucas to set his wrist in Jens’s grip on his own, and then Jens drew his arm into position. “Use this part of your arm, keep it turned out.” The hairs on Lucas’s forearm rose as Jens trailed his fingers across it. Then he inched back, letting go as Lucas kept the position on his own, and pushed his arm against Lucas’s. They formed an x as Lucas understood and pressed back, leaning their weight into each other. “There,” Jens praised. “Now you have strength behind him.”

Lucas’s lips quirked and he nodded. He managed to apply said strength and shove Jens backward, and the dance began again.

They stopped when Jens had Lucas locked back against his chest with an arm around his throat. Both of them were breathing hard, and Jens could feel Lucas’s heart pounding against his own. He had leaned back into Jens, the energy drained out of him even though his shoulders remained tense.

“You’ve just killed yourself,” Jens told him.

Lucas made a noise of confusion, and Jens briefly tightened his arm, hearing Lucas’s breath hitch as he went entirely still.

“Don’t lean into someone who has you in a headlock,” Jens explained. “You’re defenseless. I’m going to show you how to get out, okay?”

Even though Jens had eased up again, Lucas hadn’t calmed. Jens realised, with a burst of regret, that he’d scared him. He let his grip slacken.

“Sorry, you’re probably starving now. We can leave it for another time.”

Lucas’s fingers curled around his arm. “No,” he argued, clearing his throat. “No, sorry. Show me now, while we’re here. It’s useful.”

Jens waited to see if he would change his mind, then locked his grip again. “Okay. So you’re gonna turn into my arm, and it’ll be easier to breathe. See? And move your hand down, so your fingers are between you and my elbow, then tuck your chin down into the space. Raise your shoulders to get yourself the room.”

Lucas listened and followed the instructions perfectly. His breath puffed into the crook of Jens’s elbow, where his hand already gripped the more sensitive skin.

Jens took a steadying breath. “Good. Now bend your knees, and your grip will bring me with you. This’ll make it harder for me to tighten my grip again before you can flip me.”

“I’m going to flip you?” Lucas asked, startled.

“Well,” Jens smiled slightly. “If you can.”

Lucas huffed.

“Now step back, on the right where I’m holding you. Careful you keep your weight forward, don’t lean back towards me again. No, not to the side, back. Your foot needs to go behind mine, so we’re calf-to-calf. That’s it. Feel steady?”

A moment to consider, then Lucas nodded.

“Alright, now you’re going to get out. Listen to me and then try, okay? You’re going to bend your knees, and step around with your left foot now, so you’re turning out to face the opposite direction. Keep turning your shoulders and hips into my hold to get more leverage if it’s harder than you expect. You’ll still have the grip on my arm, so pull diagonally across your chest, and I’ll trip on the foot behind me. Make sure you plant your left foot strong. Wanna try?”

Instead of answering, Lucas was already moving. Jens felt himself being drawn forward as Lucas leaned his weight, and then he was spinning. He had himself free in a second, and held onto the momentum as he pulled. Jens’s gravity shifted, and the incremental amount he’d leaned forward made no difference as he fell back onto his ass.

He was flat on the floor again, but now he could see Lucas’s smiling face above him instead of the ceiling. Jens smiled breathlessly back. “Good,” he gasped. “That was—you did really good.”

Lucas’s smile brightened, and he glanced away. “Thank you,” he said.

A sharp clap reminded them of Sander’s presence, and they both looked to find him leaning against the wall, eyes shining. He applauded Lucas with seemingly genuine enthusiasm, and pushed off the wall to walk towards them. “You two make an interesting show. That might be the best thing I’ve seen yet. And I’m impressed.”

Sander held his hand up to Lucas, and Lucas slapped it half-heartedly. He cleared his throat and went about shaking down his sleeves, and this time Sander held out a hand to help Jens up. “I think this deserves a nice lunch, His Highness’ treat.” Sander raised a brow at Lucas. “What do you think?”

Jens scowled at him, but Lucas’s expression was turning hopeful. He turned to Jens just as expectantly, and Jens was reminded of why he was here, of the conversation he’d overheard earlier. He couldn’t imagine how Lucas would slip up.

He wouldn’t let him.

“Fine,” he relented. “But Sander is just as capable of this himself. The cook has a soft spot for him more than me.”

“So our combined qualities make us irresistible,” Sander smirked, before pulling Lucas under his arm. “Even more so when you add this one to the mix.”

Lucas made as if to wrestle his way out of the hold, and Sander quickly let go.

Now Jens smirked. “This one does just alright on his own, I’m sure.”

Lucas’s lips quirked again, and Jens took the win.

[darkhopping]

au where nothing happens to senn n ria except they leave sendaria and have a fucking road trip 

[genuineformality]

Febuwhump Day 11: Chronic Pain

Six of Crows, Kaz Brekker, some OCs that aren’t long for this world

Every morning, Kaz Brekker wakes up and spends a few minutes in his bed deciding what kind of day it’s going to be. 

On good days, the pain is background noise, like the sounds of the city; never pleasant, but reassuring in its consistency. The ache in his ankle is the rumbling of carts on cobblestones; the grind of bone against bone in his knee is whistling shrieks of starlings nesting under the eaves; the radiating cramp through his hip is the call of fishmongers, selling their dubious wares. 

He has another dozen smaller, assorted aches and pains. He injured his wrist when he first started using the cane and it never quite healed right, since walking (limping) from place to place was more important than that tiny inconvenience. His knuckles are consistently bruised, because a reputation like his needs the occasional reinforcement in case anyone thinks for even a moment that a crippled boy is too soft. And on any given day, he’s slipped, tripped, or banged his good leg on something while accommodating the bad. He does his level best to redirect attention, to brandish his cane like the weapon it is, but the fact of the matter is that his life is a series of tiny indignities that he must endure, even on the good days. 

Today is not a good day. 

On bad days, the ones after he’s exerted himself far too much and he knows it; on mornings after he’s drunk too much or felt too much or let someone too close, he feels the ache of his leg, every injury he never let heal quite right; and instead of living politely in the background where (if he’s exceptionally diligent) he can ignore it, the pain flares to the forefront and he’s left gasping in his bed. 

His mind offers up a vivid memory of the last time he had an exceptionally bad morning, a few weeks prior when Jesper installed Inej on a pallet on the floor here. 

At least this time there’s no one to witness the humiliating process of hauling his sorry ass out of bed and through his morning ablutions.

(A traitorous part of his brain asks if he wouldn’t mind Inej’s company. He tells it to get fucked.)

-=-=-=-=-=- 

“Did no one set that leg properly?” Kaz’s prisoner asks. The blood from yesterday’s ministrations has dried to a sickly brown, and it cracks on his cheeks when he speaks. 

Kaz has learned precious little of his prisoners so far, but he has names for them both (elder: Senn, younger: Xavi). The elder is Kerch by way of Ravka and the Second Army; the younger is still a mystery. If he had any sense, he’d murder them both and send them off to the Reaper’s Barge, but Kaz’s curiosity about how they came to be together when it’s clear they’re not related has overtaken sense. 

Senn asks it as Kaz ascends the loft ladder and climbs over the side. He’s not in the habit of hiding; if anything, he flaunts his disability, his uneven gait, the crow headed cane he’s made his emblem. It’s armor and a weapon and he has no compunctions against using them to further his own ends. 

“Not from the Barrel, then?” Kaz raises an eyebrow as he pushes himself standing from the ladder. Kaz knew that, knew that Senn had come from Belendt the second he laid eyes on him. But it also confirmed that Senn hadn’t been in Ketterdam very long, either, and certainly not in the Barrel, where Kaz’s carefully crafted reputation bordered on legend.

Senn glances down at Kaz’s leg, and swallows. “I could help with that.” 

Kaz laughs without mirth at the new tactic. “Going to buy your way out of this with a new leg?” 

Senn swallows. “Not for me. For Xavi.” 

Xavi has been silent since they brought the pair of Grisha here. But this gets their attention. “No-”

Kaz thinks about kneeling down Xavi’s eye level and immediately disregards the idea when he thinks about how he’s planning to get up again. 

“Don’t worry, Xavi,” he says in as bright a tone as he can muster. “Senn just said that to test me, didn’t you, Senn? To see where the chinks in my armor are. I’m not going to let him throw his life away for you.” Kaz grins and knows that on his face, it looks like a shark baring its teeth. “By the time I’m done, you’re both going to be begging me for the sweet release of death.”

[A/N: I don’t love using chronic pain as whump, but because so much of Kaz’s lived experience is informed by his disability... well, here we are.]