#she's supposed to have a sword but you can't expect me to draw that

[scarletttries]

When The Straw Hats Fall In Love... (One Piece Request)

Pairings: Luffy x Reader, Zoro x Reader, Sanji x Reader, Nami x Reader, Usopp x Reader

Monkey D. Luffy

- When Monkey falls in love he's not even sure he can put his finger quite on what's happening to him. All he knows is that he likes it. A lot.

- Luffy gets excited when any new pirate joins his crew, his constant ability to see the best in people never ceasing to amaze the rest, but when you first set foot aboard the Merry it's better than he could have ever imagined.

- When you're around he feels a new level of confidence, like he's two steps closer to achieving his dream and everything is working out for him just how it's supposed to be. He wakes up every morning and practically bounces out of bed at the thought of seeing your smile and sharing his thoughts from the night before with you.

- He loves all his friends, but with you he feels a thousand feet tall, stomach bubbling up in excitement, no matter how much he's eaten. He's always bothering Nami at her desk trying to find cute islands to stop off at along the way, just in case that would make you smile and his life would feel complete once again.

- It would be Nami too that first helped Monkey realise just what he's feeling. The first time he skipped a meal to keep you company on your watch she'd realise this is more than just the usual Luffy charms. She'd be surprisingly thoughtful as she sat him down and talked him through what his feelings might mean, and if he thought it was at all possible he might like you more than a friend. What she wasn't expecting was for him to cheer at the top of his lungs, drawing the attention of the whole crew as he climbs aboard the table and screams for all to hear 'I'M IN LOVE!"

- Naturally the first thing he has to do is find you. He doesn't worry about if you don't feel the same way, because honestly that wouldn't make this feeling any less sweet, and if someone loved him this way, he'd definitely want to know. You'd be pulled from whatever you were concentrating on with a quick rap of knuckles against the door frame before Luffy charged in anyway, limbs flying everywhere as his feet skid to a halt just in front of you.

"Hey (y/n)! Nami just helped me realise I'm in love with you! Isn't that great?!" It's hard not to be taken aback by this, but with his big smile beaming at you, the young man practically vibrating with excitement at just the presence of his love, your heart quickly follows suit. Before you've even finished telling him that you feel the same his arms around wrapped tightly around you, pulling you into a hug of fierce adoration that he plans to repeat at least 100 times a day.

- Prepare yourself for; Surprise hugs and kisses when you least expect them, Luffy clinging to you every night without fail, afternoons spent on the ship's figurehead while he shouts echoing compliments to the oceans, midnight feasts, island adventures passed hand in hand, being told you are one of his new dreams, and unwavering support and loyalty.

Zoro

- Zoro knows exactly what that uncomfortable aching deep in his chest is, he just wasn't expecting to find it so distracting.

- Your voice calling his name echoes through his mind as he tries to practice his sword training, stirring enough that he finds himself glancing over his shoulder periodically just to ensure you haven't snuck up behind him, probably to check on him in that soft, selfless way you often do.

- Your face is the last thing that flashes before his eyes whenever he's in the throes of a sword fight, an extra consideration in how hard he has to fight to survive, to make sure he always makes it home safe to you. He'll never admit it but after a particularly dangerous day he'll often be found sleeping against the wall beside your cabin door. He finds he can't sleep sometimes unless he knows you're safe, and he'd never be so bold as to invite himself in.

- Your laughter always manages to bring a smile to his face, so much so that he envies Sanji's ability to make witless retorts that always manage to draw that sweet sound out of you. He asks Usopp to teach him a few jokes, but quickly leaves that lesson when he realises all these 'jokes' are just long stories of his so-called bravery.

- Zoro finds when he lays down to sleep, you are all he can dream of. The times you spoke that day, the way you looked as you shared a meal with the others, the efforts you put in to keep the crew safe and well. It floods his chest with warmth as you dance through his thoughts, spurring him to try and find even more excuses to be close to you the following day. To have a few extra moments by your side to help him drift off again.

- Zoro may think he's a stoic man of mystery, but after the first time he falls asleep leaning against your doorframe you start to get an idea of the depth of his feelings. You watch him warm to you and you alone, chasing your company every chance he can take it, and keeping a watchful eye over you whenever the situation turns dangerous. So after one of your more dangerous adventures, you listen out for the tell tale clanging of his swords as he sets up his camp outside your door, and finally you pull it open just a touch, enough for your words to escape without the swordsman having to face you.

"I always feel safer with you near Zoro, but why don't you come in so you can rest a bit more comfortably too?" You listen to the heavy pause your invitation leaves in the air until finally the door pushes slightly more open, and Zoro steps into your cabin, more bashful than you've ever seen him. As you take him gently by the hand and lead him to the untucked edge of your bed, you can feel your own heart swell with anticipation, the threshold of your door crossed and an invisible boundary broken down along with it.

- Prepare yourself for; furtive smiles thrown your way when no-one else is looking, a firm hand on yours whenever you two have to leave the ship, nights passed in peaceful quiet with Zoro's head resting on your lap, Zoro never far away when you're going about your day, grumpy grunts whenever Sanji flirts with you, and quiet confessions of the depths of his love when all is dark and still.

Nami

- Nami is furious. She's spent so much time and work putting up walls and barriers to keep her heart safe. To keep herself undistracted. To make sure she's a lone wolf that can look after number one when she needs to. And you hopped over every wall of her fortress with a simple hello and a trusting smile.

- Nami's the type to be in denial at first. She can't get lost in your beauty if she barely makes eye contact with you. She can't hang on your every word if you two hardly talk. She can't be in love with you if she convinces herself that she can't stand you, and keeps herself busy and out of your way.

- Unfortunately for her, absence only makes the heart grow fonder, and all of her efforts to change her mind only leave her craving your company even more. When she relents and sits next to you for the next cabin meal she feels a surge of guilt at her avoidance when you offer her the widest smile and say you're so happy to see her after she's been so busy. You were worried she wasn't looking after herself so you make sure Sanji gives her the biggest bowl before Luffy can come and claim it. At that point Nami knows there's no use fighting her feelings for the one person she can trust to look after her and her heart, even if she's spent most of her life convincing herself she doesn't need that. Her hand slides slowly across the bench until her little finger brushes against yours, the brief contact enough to light a spark in you both.

"I'll be around a lot more now."

- Prepare yourself for; Late night confessions under the stars, sitting with your legs intertwined as she works on maps, Nami always taking the seat next to yours and giving a death glare if one of the boys gets there first, evenings passed in small town bars learning card games and scooting your seats ever closer to each other, arms wrapping around your waist whenever you're working on something that requires your full attention, and being the safest place for one another in a chaotic pirate life.

Sanji

- Sanji has felt the aching touch of affection before, the ever flirty chef finding himself distracted by the beauty of many passing women, but from the minute he lays eyes on you, he knows he's never felt like this.

- He wants to flirt with you the way he's been practicing for years, but he finds whenever you smile up at him he gets short on breath and can only stare helplessly at you while you fill in the awkward silence. It takes him weeks of desperate longing before he can even hold a conversation with you, the sly smile plastered on his face more sincere than he would ever let on.

- He makes all your favourite foods, as often as he can get away with, putting in extra care and attention to the plate he plans to give to you. Every time you hum happily and praise his work, he feels weightless and euphoric, grateful for the hours spent honing his craft for the opportunity to impress you.

- It becomes a running joke amongst the crew that you're the only person Sanji won't flirt with, the behaviour all the more obvious by how red he turns whenever Zoro points it out to him, taking the chance to do an awful impression of Sanji flirting with you and coming out with lines Sanji views as completely unworthy of your ears. The truth is there's nothing he could say to make you love him with the unwavering depth that he loves you, no words that could capture the sheer wonder of your essence, the light that shines on him with every moment spent in your presence.

- You decide to take mercy on the chef one morning, waking before the rest of the crew and joining Sanji in the kitchen while he prepares to make everyone breakfast. He thinks about making a heartfelt comment about 'to what does he owe the pleasure of your company' or 'how it's unfair to visit him so early as it means his day will have already peaked' but he can't find the combination of words you deserve to hear so instead he just beams and says good morning, eyes devoted following your movements as you settle onto the kitchen counter beside where he's working.

"Sanji, why don't you flirt with me?" The question has hung in the air unspoken a dozen nights before, but today it's fired directly at him, sending his pulse racing as his mouth seems to seal shut of its own accord. He puts down the bowl he was intently stirring and approaches you instead, carefully tiptoeing the so obvious line between you.

"Well when I flirt with everyone else it's just harmless fun. It doesn't mean anything."

"And what would it mean with me?" He should have seen your follow up coming, the knowing look in your eyes spurring him to finally voice the affections that have plagued him for weeks.

"Everything." He watches open mouthed as your fingers run down the length of his tie before capturing the end, pulling him slowly towards your grinning lips and finally letting him find his confidence again.

- Prepare yourself for; breakfast in bed that quickly descends into heated kisses, being lifted onto the kitchen counter so Sanji can periodically stop by to kiss you while he cooks, cakes with soppy sentiment iced on top left outside your door throughout the day, unwavering physical affection regardless of whose around, a litany of sweet nicknames muttering directly into your ear as he nuzzles into your neck, and your lips being the sweetest thing the chef has ever tasted.

Usopp

- Usopp is no stranger to the feelings of love, having already stilled his heart once for a love that couldn't be, he finds himself once again falling head over heels when you enter his life.

- A man of outlandish tales and dramatic exploits, the first hint that you might be someone special to him is the fact that when he's alone with you he only wants to tell the truth. No dramatics, no exageration, when he's with you Usopp just wants to tell you everything that he's ever experienced exactly as it happened. He needs you to know the truth about his life, he needs you to see the real him, he needs you to look at him for exactly who he is, so you can decide if that's an Usopp you can love.

- He often offers to make you a warm tea before bed, when the ship is quiet and he can steal a moment of privacy, so the two of you can stare out the small rounded windows in your cabins and just let your thoughts and feelings spill out like water bubbling too close to the surface. He finds himself enthralled with your reactions to his tales, the kindness you offer him when he speaks of his mother, the genuine praise to even his minor accomplishments, and the shared joy when you two recount you time with Luffy.

- When he ends your talks, when you're both struggling to keep your eyes open and threatening to drift off in each other's arms and he finally gets up the resolve to excuse himself so you can rest, he always ends them by telling you that you're the only person who knows that story. You think he's just making you feel special, that he's known for sharing these glimpses into his past, but the truth is that you ARE special and only you have ever heard this side of Usopp before.

- Usopp speaks so honestly and so freely around you that he finds himself having to hold back describing his feelings for you most nights. He hates that that's the one thing he's yet to be honest about, but he knows that with every passing night, his confession only becomes more inevitable. What he doesn't expect is you leaning across the small bench you two are curled up on and placing a soft kiss on his cheek at the end of one night, and telling him you hope he will always share his stories with you. The beaming smile on his face as he promises he'll keep telling you stories forever, leaning back in for a kiss of his own, reveals as much as his words do.

- Prepare yourself for; Usopp dancing with you at inopportune moments, you being the greatest source of his strength and bravery, hunting through markets for little matching accessories, lying on the beach together whenever an island's weather allows, never keeping any secrets, and the arms of the bravest pirate boyfriend constantly wrapping around your waist.

[major-knighton]

RATING PIRATE FLAGS

By your friendly neighborhood pirate enthusiast. Remember the sources for most of these are often shoddy at best, we do with what we have.

1. EDWARD LOW

Spooky. Red. Makes your intent clear. Fitting for a man reputed for violence, sadism and a penchant for torture so strong he was compared to the Spanish Inquisition. 9/10 very Halloweeny.

2. EDWARD "BLACKBEARD" TEACH

Dramatic as fuck. Who hurt you, Ed? Also why is the devil so skinny. This design is a good idea but maybe a bit messy. 6/10 solid flag but makes me think of 2000s emo album covers.

3. STEDE BONNET

Meh. It tries to be symmetrical but fails because the dagger and heart aren't the same size. Trying too hard to be original but with no real creativity. 4/10 you bougie bitch.

4. BARTHOLOMEW ROBERTS

Very cool design. Always dubious of putting your own image on the flag, but overall the execution is good. You have the captain pointing at the hourglass to signify your time is up with Death by his side. 8/10 supervillain flag.

5. BARTHOLOMEW ROBERTS AGAIN

NOOO NO NO. This looks goofy as hell, Barty. The letters are supposed to stand for "A Bahamian's head" and "a Martinican's head" but putting letters on a flag is gauche. The flaming sword looks like a cactus. 2/10 You can't just draw yourself standing on the skulls of your enemies holding a flaming sword and expect people to take you seriously Bartholomew

6. SAMUEL BELLAMY

The classic. Can't go wrong with it. Points deducted bc a bunch of people used it and it's impossible to tell who started it. 5/10, neutral

7. OLIVIER "LA BUSE" LEVASSEUR

WHAT in the reverse slenderman is this shit? Get that out of my sight you French bastard. 100000/10 it lives in my nightmares.

8. HENRY EVERY

BLACK. IT'S CALLED THE BLACK FLAG ASSHOLE. Otherwise, it's a solid design, unique and simple. 6/10 unusual but not bad.

9. JEAN THOMAS DULEAIN

Just no. Too much stuff. Three skulls is nice but then you add all the other things and it becomes a confusing mess. Pick one thing and stick to it. 3/10 what the hell

10. JAQUOTTE DELAHAYE

We don't even know if she was real but what I do know is that this design fucks. Dancing with Death over a bleeding heart? Showing your prey that they're going to be bested by a lady? I stan. 11/10

[ambiguouspuzuma]

The Healer

The rapier hung unsteadily in her face. It was a one handed grip, but poor Gubkin hadn't expected her defiance, and holding it up for so long was beginning to sap the strength from his arms. That was something she could have helped with, if she'd been minded to.

Curious, Tiesca leant forward and pressed her tongue to the cool metal. The edge had been well sharpened - Gubkin was clearly no slouch in that regard - and the slightest pressure drew blood: a taste of iron on iron, a blend of warm and cold. She pushed further, letting the soft flesh cleave into a serpent's fork around the metal.

"Stop that," he said, suitably unsettled. The blade was shaking even more between her lips.

"Pfine," she replied in a glob of blood and spittle, withdrawing and letting her tongue knit itself back together. "But my answer is the same."

"I'm supposed to take you to Lord Duant," he repeated. "You have to come with me."

"No, you're supposed to ask nicely, although our beloved Lord was never one for pleasantries," she told him. "But he can't have me, as I've already said. You can't compel me to come."

It was an insult to even suggest that he could. Tiesca had always come willingly until now, and they clearly hadn't expected resistance, but where was the back-up plan? One guard! Gubkin, whose best attribute was obsequity. Healers had never been taken seriously as a threat. Necromancers got all the notoriety, as if she didn't hold just as much power over life and death. Perhaps that was a lesson they would have to learn.

"Sure I can." He kept his voice steady, but that sword trembled with more than fatigue. "I'm authorised to use whatever force necessary. Lord Duant said to bring you in a box, if need be. He said that you can always put yourself back together again."

"I'm not talking about legality," Tiesca said, although that was good to know. If she'd had any doubts about her choice, the promise of dismemberment had put them to rest. "Our Lord isn't here. This is my home, and I won't let you do it."

Lord Duant had always treated her as disposable. Because her scars healed, he was happy to send her to the front to treat his wounded, wading through a hail of arrows to remove the shaft from a prize soldier with half her capabilities. She always survived, but that didn't mean they didn't hurt. Most people only had to die in battle once, but Tiesca got to go through that pleasure every time.

Now he was suggesting they could torture her twice as well. Pull off a tail, a tentacle, and watch it grow back. Hurt her to the point of breaking her will, and pack her off to the edge of the world to be stabbed at some more. But she could put herself together again, so no harm done! They always treated her as invulnerable, but never really followed that thought to the end of the track. What if she behaved as if she was?

"What are you going to do about it?" Gubkin mocked, still not taking her seriously. "Heal me to death? Lower my cholesterol? Clean out my arteries?"

That taunt laid the last of Tiesca's conscience to rest. She backed away, and grabbed the hilt of the cheese knife on the countertop. It was true that she could only use her magic to heal, not harm; to save lives, not take them. But who needed magic for that? Human bodies were such fragile things, as she knew as much as anyone.

Healing herself gave Tiesca scope to cause all the pain she could muster through other means, without paying the cost that held most people back. She could walk through a battlefield unscathed, at least physically, dishing out damage and taking none in return. She could set fire to a room and decide who walked out.

He laughed at that. "You draw a kitchen knife against a sword?"

"To win a duel? No." She circled carefully, holding out her blade to mirror his. "Nor to avoid a killing blow. I can't parry, and have no range to bypass your guard. But I don't need to. As you well know, all I need is for both of us to bleed. I can put myself together again. You'd better take my head clean off in one attempt, or yes, I will clean out your arteries in exchange. So tell me, Gubkin: are you feeling strong?"

[ladygoofball]

Paladins and Oaths in BG3

SO I've been writing a fic about a Paladin who is the chosen of an unnamed god and WEEPING at how the god I did choose for them fits so beautifully with Gale's whole character arc of rebirth and coming back to life after isolation by falling in love (either platonically or romantically he always allows himself to be completely changed by the player character).

More babble about some headcannons for the inner workings of how Oaths work and Paladins within Gale's romance arc in BG3 under the cut

SO the God that I have chosen for my Paladin to worship is OSIRIS who exists in the broader DnD pantheon (specifically eastern Faerun). He is the God of Death, God of Nature, and God of Life and ALL of those happen to fall under the Oath of the Ancients route in BG3. To a scary degree, even though he is not mentioned anywhere in the game as far as I have seen (my sources are not that wide, I've only played through the story 100% one time on my PS5 and I'm playing through again with a Paladin to see how the fighting mechanics work as metaphors for being inspired divinely and trying to understand what the Oathbreaker is supposed to do in canon and not having purchased the art book so I have not seen if that was something they chose to focus on). It's sent me on a whole spiral into his lore and how he would absolutely canonically choose a Sun Elf to act as his sword in the world while he rests up and tries to take over the role as God of Death after the Dead Three are defeated. I've been on fire drawing all of the fun visual themes and secrets alluding to a godly presence in a comic about this.

My personal headcannon for Oaths in BG3 are that they act as intermediaries to place Initiate paladins into a Church. There is a period of intense isolation and study once you have sworn one of the available oaths, (Order of the Ancients, Order of Vengance, etc.) and after you have submitted an essay to an elder counsel you are allowed to act as an Initiate to the Order. No paladin is expected to stay in service to the Order forever, they're only supposed to be there while they find a Church that is right for them in theory.

Order of the Ancients, however, just has a thing for keeping some of their Paladins in service to the order. One could argue that the Oathbreaker needs to be stricter to Initates to make sure they don't embarrass the Order while they are interviewing different Churches, and that is why the cost of reconnecting someone to their healing magic goes up every time the Oath is broken, regardless of the offense until you reach a Church, then the punishment's cost is determined by the Church the Paladin serves. One could also argue that it would be against an Order's best interest to keep a certain number of initiates in their service so they don't lose out on a very steady stream of income.

How this ties in to the Tav of this world:

Luana Tanar'ri is a 186 year old sun elf, and she has been in service to the order for her entire waking memory as an adult (Elves rename themselves when they turn 100, and she does not remember renaming herself but she does remember entering Isolation and telling people how old she is). She mirrors the story Astarion tells us about the Gods in Baldur's Gate refusing to come to the aide of mortals. She tries so hard to keep herself in line when she is tadpoled so she doesn't make the entire camp pay the Oathbreaker to keep her useful as a healer. She goes out of her way to help other people to keep the Gods favor, even though she is pretty sure she must have done something really horrible to deserve to be in this whole mess in the first place.

As a healer, she has always been put as close to the battlefield as possible. She can't see someone hurt without offering them a healing hand. Her healing takes on a vision of what anchors the recipient to their lives, a way for Osiris to judge if this soul is worthy of being in his service when he regains power but the Order of the Ancients do not know that when Luana has been abducted and thrust into the Tav role in this story. They just need to use her for the pretty face she brings to their Order, a PR stunt doll and an income stream. After all this time, she has exhausted every possible option for a newer more senior position Luana could take in the Order to try to move out of the Initiate role. Her story starts the day she quits her job, which happens to be 48 hours before the nautiloid will come cruising through Baldur's Gate. She is almost 100% positive that if she stops doing good deeds for a single moment the Oathbreaker will catch up to her. She needs to make herself loved and adored by her companions, so they don't kick her to the curb once they get the bill for her latest crimes against the Order.

Of all the companions that she finds in camp, Gale offers the nicest distraction for her: a constant stream of information about the world they are exploring around them. She was always the one asked to clear out a temple and compile the loot to ship off to academics to study and categorized and she had never had the opportunity to be able to hear one of them work. It was too dangerous for their minds to be used for something as silly as battle strategy, but since he's clearly not fought anyone or anything before this adventure she tries to help him out as best as she can. She relies on her paladin tank combat training to try to clear paths for him, but she is confused when he is not relieved that someone else took care of it for him but seems to be incredibly distraught over the idea of her throwing herself into the fray and getting hurt. Even more confused when she finds herself spending extra time making sure the things she brings back to camp are up to Gale's standards as the de-facto Chef in camp and she is disappointed when he is not the one running the kitchen that night.

[a-vctlan]

— blood, blood, gallons of the stuff ! | @kuhato / @aicidos

sender tries to wipe blood off receiver but the blood on their hands just makes it worse / tifa & cloud 😊

They all knew it.

The migraines, the hallucinations. He sleepwalked, talked to himself.

Cloud was unwell.

But… they were hurting for members. That's what Tifa kept repeating, time and time again, and after a while even Barret started to wonder if she was trying to convince him or herself that bringing Cloud along was a good idea.

He got the job done when he was lucid, that wasn't a question… but what if he gets one of his spells during a fight? How are they supposed to trust him when they know how he gets? So far it wasn't a problem, but Barret's job was to make sure the team was one cohesive unit, that they wouldn't hit any snags.

You don't think they got rid of him for a reason, Tifa? SOLDIERs don't just up and retire, you know that as well as I do.

But what they feared was him faltering mid battle, going down when they were relying on him… they hadn't considered the opposite. Something about the location, the feeling of being chased — Midgar Wastelands as far as they could see, hot sun blaring down at them, surrounded by an infantry convoy that seemed to have been expecting them.

The longer they fought, the more chances they had to call in for back up, to close them in further, to shoot them down. The gunfire, the yelling, people calling out his name… something snapped. Cloud stumbled for half a step as he took a shot in the shoulder, and Tifa called out for him… but there was no response, not a single glance back towards her. Instead, his gaze snapped back up towards the person who shot him, his grip on the Buster Sword tightening…

And all the times they'd doubted his story, doubted his validity as a First Class, are brought to question — how can he not be? The viciousness, the speed and strength with which he cuts through the masses, one after the other, completely berserk.

SOLDIERs are monsters. They fight, and they love it.

At least, so they say in the slums - but there is no thrill in his eyes when Cloud cuts down the last man standing, he is as wide eyed as a prey animal, his whole frame shaking with tremors. He's afraid, he's afraid and at times it feels like she'll never be able to understand - like no one will be able to understand.

Blood and carnage, more souls for the lifestream, more lives to carry on their conscience, to burden themselves with — it had to be done, they had to live to fight another day.

Cloud swallows thickly, and for a moment, he feels like he's going to be sick - he's sweating, heat flushing through his system as his mind catches up with what he'd just done. (I did that? You did.) His thoughts swarm as he seemingly blinks himself aware, stumbling a half step back, wiping at the sweat on his face with his bloodied gauntlet, smearing it across his cheek as he holsters the sword on his back.

She approaches him like a wild animal, and he wilts, bristles up but grows complacent, he trusts her — he trusts her more than he trusts himself at times.

Her knuckles are bloodied, the rusting iron scent seeping into the cracks of her gloves, but Cloud doesn't care, long since desensitized to the nauseating stench (it used to make me sick) and all he can focus is on her eyes, the worry, the distress on her expression as she tries to reach out, tries to draw him out of whatever daze he'd fallen into.

Her hand is on his cheek, her thumb attempting to wipe away the blood he'd splattered on himself, but all it does is smear it across his face, and he can see her talking but he can't understand her words, drowned in the thundering of the blood pumping in his head, and so she tries again, both hands now on his face as he begins to feel faint - he'd over exerted himself, he's aware somewhere in his mind.

His knees buckle as he collapses, and Barret rushes over, cursing over his own inability to do anything to help either of them - but before he can get picked up off the floor, one of his bloodied hands reaches up to clasp the hand on his cheek, grip shaking, but careful... desperate for contact as although his mind does not remember, his body kept score of the fear he'd once felt.

He didn't want to be alone.

[lady-corrine]

How is hot they got divorced? I really hate how George wrote that last part of Daemon’s story,like it was like he didn’t give a shit about Rhaenyra or his kids,almost as if he despised her,George wrote all the topics on that part.

I mean, obviously I was not talking about a divorce per se, just a way of saying in a satiric way.

It doesn't seem that Daemon despised Rhaenyra and honestly this take exhausts me at this point. If he did not give a shit about Rhaenyra he could have taken his dragon and fly into the sunset with Nettles. They had two dragons, no one would have stopped them from living happily ever after. He didn't.

Daemon's death is supposed to be heroic - and that is achieved only by fighting and dying for Rhaenyra, her cause and their children. Him taking out Aemond by specifically plunging his sword through his blind eye is clear enough - an eye for an eye, a son for a son. He died taking with him Luke's murderer. For me is clear enough, and I honestly don't understand why for so many it's so confusing.

As for my divorce metaphor - neither Rhaenyra nor Daemon were themselves by that point. She was grieving and hardened by loss, he was basically suicidal. Does this sound like the same two people who spent their time dragon racing or sailing together twenty years before? No.

It's "hot" in the sense that it's complex. Of course rumours blow everything out of proportion, and Green propaganda plays a huge part as well. But you can't expect for a couple that lost children and is in the middle of a war to be the same as before - it's raw, sad and tragic.

Would I have loved for everything to end up happy? Absolutely, but that's not how asoiaf works. And even more important: for Rhaenyra and Daemon to die the way they did, it was absolutely necessary for something to intervene and draw them apart. That's the entire point - as long as they are together, it's impossible for George to kill one or the other. The conflict it's necessary for their finality.

But the point is: they still love each other. Look at Daemon's reaction when he sees her letter, look at how it's said that betrayal was now so common for Rhaenyra, "that she had come to expect it even from the ones she loved the most". War is raging and they lost children and they had their political disagreements, they grew apart, yes, but the love it's still there. You can't simply make it disappear overnight.

And of course the maesters spin everything in the most mysoginistic way possible, but for some reason readers take absolutely everything at face value.

[iviarellereads]

The Great Hunt, Chapter 27 - The Shadow in the Night

(THIS PROJECT IS SPOILER FREE! No spoilers past the chapter you click on. Curious what I'm doing here? Read this post! For the link index and a primer on The Wheel of Time, read this one! Like what you see? Send me a Ko-Fi.)

(Trolloc icon) In which Chekov's puppets go off.

PERSPECTIVE: Rand is talking to Loial, as they head back to the city gate, about how the Ogier had been winning the dice game, and then Dena came and won all his winnings back from him. You don't suppose she cheated?(1)

One of the Trolloc puppets makes its way toward them. Rand is caught up in his thoughts, he shouldn't have expected Thom to drop everything to go with him, he has to take the Horn and go, Fain will get here sooner than later. Loial is just saying he doesn't think that's a puppet, and Rand's instincts get the better of him, he's in a sword position before he can think. The men carrying the "puppet" poles drop them, and the Trolloc staggers back from Rand’s attack with a bubbling snarl. The men turn and run.

They have to get back to the inn, Hurin's alone, and-- Rand's cut off as another Trolloc lifts him up by the neck. Loial can't wrestle the thing off him, and Rand can't stab it without hitting Loial. He reaches for the Power, but finds nothing. Finally, Loial wrenches the thing off Rand and throws it into a wall, killing it instantly. He shudders as he says he's never killed anything before. Rand says he'd have killed it if Loial hadn't. Loial understands, but he doesn't have to like it. He points to another Trolloc masquerading as a puppet in the street.

Rand realizes that Fain knows he's here, and is trying to draw him out. They try to escape down roads and alleys but end up near the edge of a wide field. Trollocs won't hold back if they notice them out there. Fortunately, Selene appears at just this moment.

Rand stared: Selene stepped around the corner they had just rounded, her white dress bright in the dimness. “How did you get here? What are you doing here? You have to leave immediately. Run! There are Trollocs after us.” “So I saw.” Her voice was dry, yet cool and composed. “I came to find you, and I find you allowing Trollocs to herd you like sheep. Can the man who possesses the Horn of Valere let himself be treated so?” “I don’t have it with me,” he snapped, “and I don’t know how it could help if I did. The dead heroes are not supposed to come back to save me from Trollocs.(2) Selene, you have to get away. Now!” He peered around the corner.

Rand wraps her in his cloak, since her white dress stands out in the moonlight, and says they're going to have to sneak into a building in the field, the Illuminators' chapter house. The Trollocs are definitely following them, but Loial uses his night vision and leads Rand and Selene up to the outer wall of the building. Selene points to a door that neither of the men noticed a moment before, and they enter, despite Loial's protests that Illuminators kill intruders to keep their secrets.

They overhead two Illuminators, Tammus and Aludra, confirming that a display is ready to go.(3) They move on to another area, and Rand gestures to his companions. He wants to get as far from the unbarred door as possible.

At one point, Loial brushes against a rack containing ten sticks, smoldering gently. One of the sticks touches one of the fuses of a firework nearby, which bursts into flame and races toward a tube. Rand whispershouts to get behind the wall. The firework goes off, and as they hear feet approach, Selene says, unworried, that sometimes if you're quiet and still enough, no-one will see you at all.(4) Aludra and Tammuz investigate, Aludra blaming Tammuz for leaving the sticks to fall over, and they both leave again, Aludra trying to figure out how to smooth this over with Galldrian. Rand whispers that they've surely used up all their luck for the night.

“Rand?” Loial was peering around the end of the wall away from the lighted building. “I think we need some more luck, Rand.” Rand shifted to look over the Ogier’s shoulder. Beyond open space, in the alleyway that led to the barless door, three Trollocs were peering cautiously out of the shadows toward the lighted windows. One woman was standing at a window; she did not seem to see the Trollocs. “So,” Selene said quietly. “It becomes a trap. These people may kill you if they take you. The Trollocs surely will. But perhaps you can slay the Trollocs too quickly for them to make any outcry. Perhaps you can stop the people from killing you to preserve their little secrets. You may not want greatness, but it will take a great man to do these things.” “You don’t have to sound happy about it,” Rand said.

Selene says that his greatness will make her happy, but perhaps she should leave him to find his own way. If he won't take greatness, maybe he deserves to die. Rand ignores her and tells Loial to take Selene and go to an alley nearby and look for a door out of here. He'll handle the Trollocs. He accidentally sets off more fireworks instead,(5) and runs toward the alley. Loial stands alone next to the door he found, Selene having slipped out of his hands to go back inside.

Rand is clearly torn, but Loial says they can't help her by getting caught themselves, and he tried to stop her. They leave, and go back to the Dragonwall inn, where Cuale has another parchment for him, this one sealed with Selene's mark.

In his room, Hurin asks if everything was alright with the gleeman, which Rand has all but forgotten about by now. He opens the parchment.

When I think I know what you are going to do, you do something else. You are a dangerous man. Perhaps it will not be long before we are together again. Think of the Horn. Think of the glory. And think of me, for you are always mine.

Once again, no signature. Rand asks if all women are crazy,(6) and wishes Ingtar would get here.

=====

(1) What do you think? (2) Rand, I hate to break it to you, but given that you have to fight the Last Battle, against the forces of Actual Evil, that's almost exactly what the Horn is for. (3) So we've firmly established illuminators/fireworks artists in the world now which is super fun and really is one of the highlighting characteristics making this not a European medieval period analog world. (Yes, this is something that sticks in my craw hard about the series.) At least in Europe, fireworks feel firmly in a renaissance sort of period, and the technology and culture level here is certainly getting there. So exciting, seeing a world change in real time. (4) It's pretty clear that Lanfear channeled something like the weave we saw Moiraine and Siuan use earlier to protect against being overheard, possibly with a dollop of light-refraction to avoid being seen, too. That's why she's so calm. (5) Accidentally, or did she provide a distraction? (6) No, just your past-reincarnation's ex-girlfriend.

[justmilah]

Delicate for Milah & Killian, perhaps....?

Song and Ship Drabbles for @kazoosandfannypacks

So um. Ewps. Drabble, you say?

Delicate

Words: 1300

Rating: T

Summary: "The other day, as I was doing laundry, I was thinking about you–"

"You think about me when I'm not here?"

"Of course I do, you silly boy."

Ao3

His crew had left an hour ago and Milah was desperate to stay there, to keep this feeling in her chest for as long as possible. It was new and bubbly and bright, and despite the expectation that it would wear off soon or that he would do something to end this feeling in her, it was always there when he was around. Fortunately, or unfortunately for her hangover tomorrow, he did not appear in any rush to leave.

She knew he could hear the whispers around them. She could tell by the way his jaw ticked and his fingers thrum on the hilt of his sword. Milah distracted him the best she could, a hand on his, with a question about something he had said earlier or for details of a place he would describe so vividly she wondered if she could draw it. He knew enough about her from the whispers, she knew, yet he still had a spot for her at his table. That had to mean something, right?

"What about you? Anything new and exciting in your life?" He sipped his ale, eyes on her.

"You, I suppose." Milah knew she had perhaps had too much to drink for conversations like this, but at the moment she didn't care. 

He choked on his drink. " Me?" Killian set his tankard down and leaned against the table. He wore that vest she liked today, the one he had when they first met, all red and black and hundreds of lacings she just wanted to pluck her fingers through after tracing the embroidery and tapping along those buttons. "Surely there's something more exciting."

She thought for a moment, eyes losing focus as she tilted her head in thought. Surely there were all of Baelfire's firsts. Those were always exciting. But he had said something new. "No," She shook her head as her eyes focused back on him. "I've never had a crush on someone before." The words passed her lips before she could stop them.

She likely would have laughed at that had she been in Killian's boots. A woman her age, several years his senior, confessing to something as silly as a crush as though she were some sort of schoolgirl. He didn't, though. His cheeks were a little pink and he had the sort of smile one could only get with that sort of blush, but he did not laugh. "I'm glad." She tilted her head a bit. "That the feeling is mutual."

Oh. Oh dear. She took that and tucked it away, close to her heart, to be looked at later when it was just her and the babbling brook. Instead of responding to that, she shifted on the bench, turning the best she could to look at him better. "May I ask you something?"

He leaned forward a little, that smile turning into a sly grin. "You may."

There were still a lot of questions she had for him. So she settled on all of them. "How? "

His brows furrowed together. "How what?"

"Just…" She trailed off before settling on one. "Just how are you so pretty? "

This time he did laugh, startled and clearly not expecting that. "I don't believe anyone's asked me that before."

"Really?" She raised her eyebrows. "So they just tell you you're pretty?"

He pressed his lips together as he looked up in thought. "No, can't say that they have."

This surprised her. And now that she'd opened her mouth, words tumbled stupidly out. "But you are! " She scooted a bit closer to him, much as he'd done that first day they'd met. "The other day, as I was doing laundry, I was thinking about you–"

"You think about me when I'm not here?"

"Of course I do, you silly boy." She scoffed as though it were the most obvious thing. Then she leaned forward and stared at him. "I was thinking whoever made you only had enough of that blue in all the world for your eyes."

His grin slowly fell as he looked at her, taking a ragged breath that sounded suspiciously like a "Huh."

Oh no. "I wasn't supposed to say all that, was I." Drat. This was all too much. "I'm sorry, I've become stupid with drink, I should–" She stood up. "I should go."

The cool air of the night sobered her a little as she hurried down the path. The best thing for them both would be to not come back at all when he was in port. The best thing to do would be to forget him, or let him forget her, or both .

"Milah, wait." She stopped walking. She never had been good at doing what was for the best. He caught up with her quickly after that, taking her hand in his. "I'm sorry, love, I didn't mean for that to–" They both looked behind her when they heard the sound of other people. "Come with me?"

It took her only a second to make another horrible decision. She nodded and he led her through the alleys and footpaths. How he'd learned his way around already she doubted she would ever get to know. They stopped just to the side of the docks, far enough away that there was no one else around, but close enough to the lamplight to not be so scandalous if they were caught.

" I'm sorry," she said before he could continue his earlier apology. "I shouldn't have said that, this," she waved a hand between them. "Is all too delicate. I don't want to say something that will ruin it." 

"You're not. I wasn't expecting it, that's all." He tucked a bit of her hair behind her ear and she leaned toward his hand without thinking. "It's alright to think of me. I think of you."

Her cheeks warmed nicely and she felt herself relax. When did he? When he was alone at night? "No one tells you you're pretty? Not even all the ladies you have in all the other ports?" Did he think of her then?

He scratched the back of his neck and she knew there was some truth to what she implied. How many were there? How many could do with him what she couldn't? A wistful sort of envy lanced through her. As unfair as it was, a part of her did not want to share him with anyone, even as she couldn't share any of herself with him. "Not as such, no."

"A pity. Foolish girls probably don't see how clever you are, too." She gave a haughty sniff and folded her free arm across her stomach, more to give it something to do than anything else.

"Milah." He regarded her for a long moment and, try as she might, she couldn't look away. "I promise you–"

She clamped her hand over his mouth. "Don't you dare." She swallowed and her fingers moved to curl along his jaw. "I can't give you any of my promises, so don't waste any of yours on me."

He leaned in before she could think. His lips were warm and soft, pressing against her forehead as his fingers carded through her hair. It was such a sweet moment that it nearly broke her heart. "Even if this is all we'll ever have, nothing has been wasted on you. Not my time, not a promise, not–" He cut himself off, not wanting to cross that delicate threshold. " Nothing. "

She almost gave in, then. Nearly told him to ask her again to take her away and show her everything. Instead, she allowed herself to lean against him, to bury her face in his shoulder. She could feel the warmth of his hands through her dress, pressing against her shoulder blades and waist, and if she closed her eyes tightly enough, she could pretend for a moment that he was hers.

[cadcnce-archived]

sword fight!!! :: closed

send ‘ Swordplay ’ for my muse to pin yours to the ground while fighting/sparring. send ‘ Swordplay + reverse ’ for your muse to pin mine.

@starryskied sent: Swordplay ( Zeph from ms. blue bird herself )

It's not a matter of if Zephyr deserved comeuppance, but when. Something or someone will surely, finally, catch up with the cheeky bird. Debauchery was only scraping the surface. There was an entire history even before arriving tired and haggard with his half dead sister on the front door of Rhodes Island building up a karmic debt. And apparently, he continued to be good at evading his debtors. Isn't there only so much one can get away with? And no, HR reports don't count. It may take something else for him to get the point. In this case Astesia's blade.

"I really really don't want to fight you, you know?" Troubled words spared while evading another strike of that flourishing rapier. It's unfortunate, that even at his most earnest Zephyr carries an air of someone who can't be taken seriously. Dubious to a complete fault. And cunning to a degree that everything might be a game. Either to save his own life or mess with someone else's. Talk was cheap, and even with a wealth of vocabulary the bounty accrued on him by the astrologist would take more than a speech to assuage.

So what else did he have then?

Well, his dexterity and agility for one. Swiping from tables and slipping around chairs for a chunk of your life making change and trading gossip around the clubs and casinos that made up the underbelly of Ursus is worth something. Not to mention surviving the fights when you got caught or had turf to defend in the alleys. He's been doing this since he was little. Surviving. To the great dismay of those who wished death upon him he was slippery even before the arts came into play.

They weren't, not for now. In such close quarters and with his attention on that sword it's not that he couldn't, but running away invites a certain level of cowardice on his resume and against a refine lady like Astesia that just wouldn't do. It'd be one thing if one of the elite operators or city clearers like Blaze were around where he didn't stand a chance at a parry. Oh, absolutely he would be halfway across the landship by now to save his skin.

That beautiful blade draws close to his neck and a flash of steel preludes the knife that catches it at the hilt. Zephyr knocks the attack away as footwork evades him a breath to the side from the attempted riposte that follows from the woman. She moves quick, and so does he. One might think this a tie as far as capabilities went, and they'd be wrong. The longer the battle draws on the less an advantage Zephyr has. He's a get in and get out kind of assailant. Quick attacks to take an opponent by surprise, it's why his arts made him such an effective combatant.

"Shit, you're not actually trying to kill me are you?!" This is the question that should have been asked earlier, alas, perhaps the optimism had run a little high after the supposed prank went poorly. Astesia had every right to be offended and wish retaliation for her honor. Zephyr just wanted to take his fidget spinner and leave. That wasn't going to work. And he's realizing it by the moment that in her current state an apology wasn't going to work.

Clang! Swish!

It's not the cleanest way to fight, but getting in and kicking away her lead foot and then breaking her guard with the pommel of the knife in his hand was about the only chance he had. A gust of wind to put him behind her and she's on the ground, just as angry as one might expect. But at least she doesn't have her sword, and Zephyr is no longer on the table to become swiss cheese.

"Are we good now?" There's the optimism again! As if it ever went away, and only blipped. It seemed that comeuppance wouldn't come so easily, but it was only stemmed. Much like the other Liberi's merited rage. "I'm sorry. Okay? I'm... sorry I spun a fidget spinner on your boob while you were asleep. Now if you promise not to gut me I'll get up. No hard feelings! We'll let this go..."

[kanafinwe-makalaure]

I'm not super great and proficient at digital art yet so this is more of a doodle but here's a badass warrior queen and her little Greenleaf :)

[reilliane]

I am unsure whether or not If I missed this somewhere in the story, but If the Queen and Alatus were to fight, who'd win?

I am taking this opportunity to answer this in a voiceline setting! More under the cut because I could not resist expanding on this- with a bonus sketch because I also cannot resist drawing him-

(oh dear, he's quite annoyed)

Concept: Someone asks if he'll lose against the Queen in a sparring

✤ — Ahah- I'm not trying to sound discourteous, but should you really raise questions that you already know the answer to?

.. What? Arguable? You cannot be serious.

It isn't that I am undervaluing her Majesty and her prowess, but you should know that-! Hm? So you are truly torn about this matter.

How perplexing. But very well, good luck entertaining the Queen with this question of yours.

Wait, what? You already visited her Majesty before— and she agreed!?

[ Winning ]

✤ — Is this enough evidence for you? Need my might be doubted, still? Good.

Heh, well, in all honesty, I expected it to last shorter but it didn't. I've heard from Kaedehara that the Queen does train, but I've never seen her lift a sword until now.

To think that it will be against me.

Either way, it was indeed a complex battle. I knew not to underestimate someone of her Majesty's caliber, but I stand hereafter, realizing that I lack control over... subjectivity.

Hm, I should work on that.

Wait—what do you mean to tell the Queen of her admirable feats?

I would do no such thing.

[ Losing ]

✤ — ... Tsk, dare I say I did not see that coming.

Ah? Yes—I'm aware. I caused my own defeat. Over such a childish thing, as well. I can't comprehend the post clarity knowing that I lost because I was simply... provoked.

The Queen's known to be wily and sly, but I did not expect her to be able to aggravate me to this extent.

... I do suppose I've always been uptight around her Majesty, but such things cannot be helped, no? My dislike is a steady growing flame.

Now if you'll excuse me, I'll go and train.

Explaining further down here!

Now, if they were to fight, it'd be chaos lmao- Alatus would definitely win.

The Queen has acknowledged the fact that she can die by his hand if he so wished, many, many times. And! We're talking about a weapon master here.

Alatus' manner of combat is... destructive, so to say. With wide arching slices and groundbreaking slams (he's dangerous with a claymore/longsword). We don't speak about his deadly accuracy with a bow.

He's also swift with the polearms/lances but if you pair him with a sword? He's swifter because of the lighter weight.

Wielding it with one hand is easy, and you bet he'll smile in the middle of a battle. What can I say? He shines on the battlefield.

The Queen, on the other hand, has the sword and bow at her disposal. Taught by yours truly, Albedo, Ajax.. and.. mother

（￣︶￣）

She can fight really well with it, actually, because the contract between them states that MC must be a dignified noble worthy of the throne.

MC is flashy and quick with her swordplay, always adding a pretty, elegant flourish that belies the fact that she won't hesitate to cut a head off lmao

Pretty quick on her feet, too.

But her background still is taken into account. If you dears remember the first part of Tyranny, it has been mentioned there that MC always has been the sickly one amongst the siblings.

Her body is weak in nature, she has simply trained long and hard enough for her to adapt to combat. Her stamina is above average but in terms of power/force, she's so-so.

Hence why her method of winning is through incredibly swift attacks and subterfuge/diversion.

She's also the kind to think over tactics before ever deciding to lift any weapon, and analyze the opponent if need be, as seen in the third chapter when it's revealed that confronting the assassin has been premeditated.

She'll think over the risks first and plan a way around those.

With this in mind, MC will have the upper hand against Alatus in the first moments of their sparring. She likes watching him and the Knights in training, so she knows a handful of his move set.

The catch is managing to catch him off guard or stagger him because she knows she's at a time limit. She can last long, yes, we have to thank Childe's incessant desire to spar for that, but Alatus is simply perfectly honed for combat.

That mentioned, Alatus isn't entirely off the hook either—the Queen is hella unexpected. She likes riling him up- and when one is riled up, emotions take over and the mind loses grip.

Alatus has incredible difficulty trying to keep his sentiments at bay when it comes to MC—so if he were to lose, it'd be because he got way too heated and predictable.

MC will rub it in his face lol.

If the Queen loses, however, Alatus would huff- then smile. Because hey, he won ;>

[countrymusiclover]

10 - Memory Red Line

(I made this gif)

Part 11

The Charming Sister

The sky is clear blue but clouds are in the distance as I sit on the ground my back pressed against a tree trunk. Leaves softly falling in my hair twirling mother's pin in between my fingers until twigs snapped behind. Drawing my sword I hide behind the tree until the figure gets closer and I jump out pressing the tip against my brother's chest, his hands thrown up in surrender. "Easy, it's just me." Rolling my eyes I put the weapon up leaning back against the side of the tree. "How'd you find me?" He rests his hands in his Jean pockets. "Just a lucky guess. I will say this is not where I wanted to have our talk." Bending down I sit how I was before he came hugging my knees to my chest. "I'm not out here to chat. I'm hiding from someone. I'm honestly surprised he hasn't done a locater spell by now."

"I won't say I was right...because I'm trying to be a nice older brother..." He sits down beside me and the tree seeing me glare at him. "What exactly was the deal you made with him?" He questioned staring into my eyes it was at that point that I never told him about our deal. At the time I didn't want him to worry that he'd crush my heart. "He took my heart, but gave it back when he woke me from the sleeping Curse." My brother draped his arm over my shoulder having me lay my head on his chest. He takes the clip feeling tears welling in his eyes remembering the last day we had our mother. "I wonder what mother would say about me now....falling in love with the Dark One." He turned his head down to me kissing my forehead as I wiped away tears. "I think she'd consider it love a lot easier than I am."

Snow and I rode on horse until we reached the lake that could save my mother. She had been injured when King George's guards showed up and wanted our heads. Dismounting my horse I watched my brother and a knight search for water. "Y/n, my girl. Come I have something for you." The wind blows my hair brushing my hands over my leather outfit similar to my brother's. "Yes mother." She reached into her hair revealing a golden clip as Snow comes over to us. "You're father gave me this before I was pregnant with you. I've already given Snow a necklace that tells what child she'll have. So I thought you deserve something special."

"My girl, I'm giving this to you as a sign of faith. Faith that you will find love." Shacking my head at her she places it in my hands knowing that I was so similar to my brother. That I wanted a one of a kind love, true love. "You have always been like your brother. So sure of what you want. This clip led me to have you, so I have faith that it will lead you to your own true love." Squeezing my hand in hers I wiped away happy tears hoping to find someone that she spoke of. Someone who would change my whole world into something I never expected to have.

David wiped away tears really missing her now that we had our memories back. He glanced up to the sky watching the sky cover with clouds. "I can see why you come out here. It's the closest we can get back to our land. Looks like it's gonna ran though we should go." He started to get up but I grabbed his hand making him stop. "How am I supposed to face him. After what he did, I just..I don’t want to be around him. But it's like something inside me is screaming to run back to him and I don't understand why the hell I feel this way." Throwing my hands in my lap I shouted feeling tears of frustration run down my face.

He bends down on a knee tilting my chin up so I'm staring into his instead of burying my head in my knees like I was before. "Lisen to me little sis. There's not a lot I'm certain of but the two things I am are family and true love." Throwing my hands up I scoff through a croaked voice knowing I'm crying. "Don't say it's love because it can't be. My brain just is tricking me into that. There's no way that I'm in love with the - the Dark One!" He takes my hands in his getting me to actually listen. "I was slightly wrong about him Y/n...He's not who he was when I met him. You know how I know, because he didn't want you going under a sleeping Curse again and he held you back when he thought that Cora was going to come through the portal...look what I'm trying to say is that true love isn't easy but it must be fought for. Because once you find it can never be replaced."

"So you're not mad at me anymore?" I sniffed through tears watching him nod yes allowing me to throw my arms around his neck. He chuckled into my blonde hair squeezing me gently. "I might not be fully okay with it. But if he makes you happy then go find him." He pulls me to my feet and we walked through the woods until we came up to his truck. Getting into his truck I dial Rumple's phone wanting to know where he was. "Rumple, it's me. I need to see you, to apologize." At first I think it's his voice mail until he actually responds. "I'm at the town line, lass." Looking to my brother he turned down the road taking me to him. Closing the truck door I saw his car with him standing outside with a smile holding a shaw in his other arm.

David stared at Rumple for a few minutes before driving off and leaving us alone. He glanced to his feet starting the conversation. "It seems you two are on good terms now. Otherwise I don't think he would have brought you here." I nod leaning my back against his car staring up at the stars in the sky. "I'm sorry I overreacted about the other day I just...I didn't agree with what you did-" He holds up his cutting me off. "You don't have to apologize for anything Y/n. I'm the one who did wrong. There's just one thing I don't understand lass...why did you come here if you were unsure about, well us?" Turning to fully face him I twisted the fabric of my brown jacket looking into those brown eyes, pulling out the golden clip from my pocket showing it in the palm of my right hand. "It has something to do with this."

Rumple raises a brow confused until I explain about my mother. "The day my mother died she gave this to me. Said it led her to have me and she had already given my brother her ring. So she gave me this and said that she believed it would lead me to my true love. Like her ring did for my brother." Brushing my fingers through my hair I clipped it back in resting my freehand on his. "I don't know what we'll face. But I know my heart is leading me straight to you and it's where I'll stay." He leans in softly kissing me with a smile as we walked to the red line that the dwarfs drew. Lifting the shaw over his head he whispered shackyness in his tone. "Here we go." He stepped over the line and blue mist goes over him and he turns around pointing his index finger at me voicing. "Y/n, my Charming princess." I giggled stepping to the edge of the line hands over my mouth with happy tears.

He leans forward about to kiss me but I heard a gunshot go that hits me in my side. My feet stumbled forward into Rumple's arms and something blue goes over my body. When I stared up into brown eyes I recognize Mr. Gold. He struggled to hold me up lowering me down onto the pavement calling out a name I don't know. "Y/n?" Glancing towards his car I saw a weird looking guy with a hook for a hand holding a gun aimed at us. "Gold - who is he?" I stuttered trying to scoot away but winced pressing my fingers seeing blood on my fingers. Gold stared at me tears in his eyes mumbling. "Y/n..." Shacking my head slowly at him I choked out. "Who is she Gold?"

Comments really appreciated ❤️

[askthefivefallen]

Shamira has done something wrong. The Joy Bringer turns from her, clearly upset, and then runs at her, grapples her-

It's a hug, you piece of shit, and you will let her have her this.

She stands still, waiting for the embrace to end as the itching becomes less. Is the voice gone?

Not... quite... but that took a lot outta me...

When she draws back... there is sadness in the Joy Bringer. She hides it well behind a smile... but Shamira can see it. And it... doesn't feel... good... because now that she's seen it, she sees it even when Emily tries to hide it. She's sad.

Shamira serves the Will of Heaven and will protect its Joyous Light.

When Emily grabs her hand, Shamira allows it, closes her hand around the one in hers- it feels impossibly small and frail, mostly due to her heavy gloves making her own hand look so much bigger. The Joy Bringer does not need hands made for war; her hands never need do some work.

Oh, trust me, those hands can do some work, alright.

She doesn't understand the implication but she's starting to think the voice might be right.

Shamira looks at Emily and nods... then shakes her head. She knows what love is as a concept, an abstract theory, but she does know how what it is in practice. The High Seraphim said that Heaven abounds with love... yet, Shamira has not seen it. She's seen many things but not love- except for the part of love that stems from joy, because one must feel love to congratulate a child... not, that's something different- compassion, perhaps.

She... doesn't really know what love is, then. Just what it's supposed to be.

I know what love is... it's the best and worst thing that can happen to you, because it makes all the agony so worth it just to see her smile... you'll see. In time, you'll see.

Then, the movie is starting and, suddenly, she knows the whole plot. Every scene, every story beat- it's fresh in her mind. She remembers watching it, the opening scene where the beast curls in on himself-

Sulfur stings her throat as she flies and falls upon another Sinner too slow to escape her ax. Everything hurts, she's exhausted, but it doesn't matter; she must keep pushing, she can't let herself be last in the kill list, bringing up the rear. Centuries of this gone and centuries left to go but here and now she just needs to keep trying- it doesn't matter how many she slaughters. But then, she blinks, and there's a sharp, bloody smile set in red black shadows looming over her, and she welcomes what should be the final strike.

She does not fall in battle. She wakes up, sees her reflection- the beast in the mirror adorned in the black and silver of an Exorcist, horns that curve forward like a bull's set into a helmet, and then the helmet is gone and it's just her, gnashing her teeth with fire in her eyes, the monster they created now without its collar as a black halo is wrenched from over her head and tossed aside.

Still a beast but one of her own making this time.

Shamira blinks, suddenly catching movement out of the corner of her eye- her own wings moving make her look at her reflection and, for one very brief second, she sees The Beast sitting there, gold eyes filled with disgust, lips curled into a snarl, a monster without a leash beside the Joy Bringer.

Shamira serves the Will of Heaven and will protect its Joyous Light.

She shoots to her feet and calls her sword to her hand. The holy power of the blade invigorates her as she scours every inch of her mind for the itchy voice. If that's what the voice was, she must destroy it.

Fallen, Traitor, Monster, Beast!

She feels the sword Cleansing her, purging her of the filth.

She expects resistance, bravado, a vain attempt at boasting. Instead, the voice is soft.

I'm already losing the fight. Don't focus on me. Focus on her. Please.

Blinking her vision back into focus, she sees a black hat beside the tank holding the snake. There's dirt on it and what looks to be a small piece missing on the back of the brim- in her mind, she sees a flash of a glowing dagger she barely ducks beneath- and she knows it would fit her head, were it not for her halo and hood.

Emily smiles, clinging to Thunderstorm's neck as the herd follows after, an angel surrounded by so many colors, bright and Joyous.

Shamira looks at Emily and lowers her gaze. She doesn't know how to ask the question she has. Not for the lack of a voice; she has never had one, and neither has she ever had a question of her own to ask.

She deliberately looks around the room, at the hat, at the snake, and her gaze lands on Emily.

Why are we here?

*Emily made rounds through the throngs of winners, giving hugs, high fives, warm hand shakes. She even got her arm painted, a pretty little red and orange lily along her elbow that made her gasp. The little flame in her mind was dancing in delight. It wasn’t long until she saw her next move. Sera was talking with a small group of winners about the history of heaven, (one of her favorite topics) and Ass was standing by, guarding her*

*She marched right up, careful to avoid being seen by Sera. A painful grin was plastered on her face* “Hello! My name is Emily but you can call me Em, Emmy, my sweet seraph, E- whatever makes you feel most fits… well whatever you want really! I’m flexible!” *The laugh that bubbled from her throat almost sounded more like a sob*

(( @ask-emily-em-emmy @ask-sera ))

Shamira scans the crowd. People move. Most remain a respectable distance.

One approaches.

Shamira immediately shifts her sword- the only warning she gives. None may approach without authorization.

This one doesn't have a bible, though, so there is no precedent. She has not seen this sweet seraph before. She hasn't...

Shamira serves the Will of Heaven and will protect its magnificent Light.

Her wings spread as her eyes narrow at the seraph.

Shamira serves the Will of Heaven and will protect its magnificent Light.

[beautifulterriblequeen]

Proof of Life, part 2

part 1

So, to further examine the idea that Moonshadow elves can sense heartbeats, how do they use these heartbeats other than for tracking targets? Well. I think they use this sense to track each other. I think that's how Ethari's lotuses work.

Rayla tells Callum that the assassins' flowers float as long as they live and breathe. But what specifically counts as "living" as far as Moonshadow magic is concerned? A heartbeat.

Rayla's lotus pings regularly on top of the water. Are those pings literally her heartbeats? Could Ethari sit by the pool and watch her heart speed up when she fights, or when she's smooching her favorite step-prince? Uhhh Ethari, a little privacy please! 🤣

But Runaan's lotus has sunk halfway. I don't think it can sense his heartbeat anymore, and that's why it assumes he's dead. He's beyond the reach of its senses because he's left the realm of the living. What else is a poor tracking lotus supposed to assume? Usually, when you leave the land of the living, it's because you're dead dead.

I'm really not sure what's holding it up off the pool floor, actually. Is it his breathing, because there are bubbles around the lotus? Or is it just Plot Armor?

Either way, I think I finally know what the ting noise was when Runaan was shown inside his coin.

The ting seems to represent the Moonshadow heartbeat sense. Rayla uses it on the castle roof to sense Runaan's presence.

And Runaan uses it from inside the coin.

It looks like an instinctive call for help when he does it--his mouth moves at the same time, but he doesn't seem to be saying any specific words. It looks more like a wordless cry of panic, but if we could give it words, it might sound like I'm here, I'm alive, can anyone hear me? Except the ting can't travel past the coin's edges, and so no Moonshadow elves can sense it. Runaan's magic got put on mute.

I'd say here that Lain's and Tiadrin's magic also got muted by their coins, but maybe Runaan ghosting them took care of that part already. Ethari's reactions to Rayla seem to indicate that he genuinely couldn't sense her heartbeat behind him in his workshop. Gosh, ghosting really is Moonshadow for "You're dead to me," isn't it? 👀 Erasing the familiar beat of someone's heart from your magical perception is very angsty indeed.

Back to the coins: How horrible to possess this deeply instinctual ability to reach out and find connection with others, and then have it suddenly be useless. How alone, how isolated, how non-existent, must Runaan, Tiadrin, and Lain feel, when they can neither feel others' hearts nor make their own be felt. Holy cats. Moonshadow elves' whole gig is sensing and appreciating life. They must not feel like Moonshadows at all in their coins. The depersonalization is real. They really are hellcoins, huh. Goddamn. Angstyyyyy!

But, uh. Can I make it even angstier? Yes I can!

Remember Rayla's oath during the binding ceremony? "My heart for Xadia"?

You know what Rayla is really swearing here now. She's dedicating her actual life, the beats of her physical heart, to being an assassin. She's vowing to die in service to Xadia, however long that takes. Runaan seems to have done exactly the same thing, always expecting to die in service, accepting his fate when it came for him on Harrow's balcony. The novelization of S1 makes Runaan's mindset here really clear.

But he stops her from re-swearing this line after he kicks her off of his mission.

He knows better than she does what she's sworn, and what it will cost her. (and just to yeet in a sudden idea: why is Rayla drawing her swords to re-swear her oath? Is she about to make a blood promise that not even Runaan can save her from? Is that why he gets all bossy and physically stops her--because if she sheds even a drop of her own blood with that oath, he can't save her life? woah) When Runaan finds himself on King Harrow's balcony a few hours later, he' s long since come to terms with his own fate. But he's not ready to come to terms with Rayla's fate. No parent wants to outlive their child. Even Runaan isn't hard enough for that.

Okay, here, let me end on a softer note.

"Lunabloom" has a moment where Runaan waxes nostalgic for the night that he and Ethari "promised their hearts to each other".

If a heart means life to a Moonshadow elf, then the night Runaan was remembering was the night that he and Ethari promised each other their lives.

And when Ethari told Runaan, "My heart goes out with this one," he was saying his life would hang in the balance until Runaan returned, that he couldn't live properly without him. And Runaan immediately comforted him by telling him he'd come home safe and sound so Ethari wouldn't have to worry for long.

I'm not crying, you're crying.

No no that's me too, my bad

[yostresswritinggirl]

Tales of The Ghost Writer

“You met Xingqiu at Wanwen Bookhouse when delivering a batch of your newly-published book. But as a ghost writer, no one knew it was you that authored such books. Safe to say it was cute watching the noble bookworm fanboy about you in front of you.”

Pairings -> Xingqiu x Author!Reader

Word Count -> 3518

Theme -> Long Fic, Fluff

Series -> #Bonafide specials (100 followers event)

Warnings -> Xingqiu's name might be mispelled at times, also he rambles a lot

Entry Log # 645:

I’ve once again delivered the new batch of books to Wanwen Bookhouse today at 4PM, 30 new books in collection to be sold. That would add up to a total of 420 published books for Legend of the Lone Sword. Despite its old circulation, collectors and avid bookworms still seek out the volumes. In a spur of the moment thought, the 4th volume was finally rereleased for more readers to get a chance to read them. While on my rounds, I’ve met a particularly peculiar fan.

“4th volume?” You nod as you set down the stack of books on the counter where Jifang stood behind with a welcoming smile. “Thank you, everyone has been asking about it for a while now. I don’t understand how people keep missing out on the last volume like so.” There was an exchange of giggles between you continued your idle chatter, busying yourself with recounting the stack to make sure the order placed was exact. Yep, 30.

You picked one up from the top pile as Jifang enters the bookhouse to gather the payment. It wasn't that much of a feat to carry a pile of 30 books when it's only this thick, you thought as you opened the book in the middle and... buried your nose in it, literally. Archons, the scent of freshly printed books had always been such a stress reliever of a kind. The imprints were still fresh as you run your thumb over the pristine white page of page 75, the gravings of the letter bumping it in such an intricate and endearing manner. You suppose it should be prime time you get a copy of your own-

"Ah, the glorious scent fresh books offer are quite irresistible to everyone," your head whipped to the side in a hurry at the embarrassing display. Yet your new company only offered a light-hearted laugh, floaty and flowing swiftly past his lips. You find it enjoyable to listen to. "Fret not, I don't judge such honest guilty pleasure."

His smile was soft and respectful as you return it, watching his hand (wrists largely ruffled) pick up the next book on the pile, his interest shining the more he recognizes the the piece of literature. Such expensive clothing and poise, you thought as you continued to inspect. "I knew Wanwen had a schedule of new releases today, but I was not informed it would be the 4th volume of the Legend of the Lone Sword!"

"A fan?" You mused as you placed back the copy you took, leaning against the counter as you watched him quickly scan the lines of the book. He was intensely staring at every word with such a calculating gaze, that sometimes break when he reads how the character would sometimes reach an impasse, or when a new discovery reaches its peak. His ardent gaze was enough of an answer. When he took a break from reading to pass you his attention, you hadn't realize how red your cheeks had been out of embarrassment. "I've always wanted to get my hands on my own copy of the 4th, yet everytime all bookhouses in Liyue keep running out of stock. Is delivery normally this scarce?" He'd gestured at the not so looming pile.

You nod in response with a forgoing giggle. "Publishing could be running into some... shortness of funds?" Subtle, yet he hums in disappointment at the thought. His little pout, adorable, as he buries his face in the book again. I would gladly fund such glorious writing, you thought you heard past the leather back before the ornate doors past the counter finally opened again.

"Ah sorry it took so long, I couldn't find the exact pouch for the- hey! You again, you've read and been scolded dozens of times already," the woman angrily gestures to the notice board by the table, "Pay first, read later!"

You snorted, thankfully masked by the sudden cry of the caught culprit as he was smacked (hopefully gently) on the head by the owner, forcing him to put back the book to the pile. "Hnghh, but Lady Jifang! You didn't scold her, she was indulging herself with the book just the same," you breathed a fake gasp of astounded betrayal, before you three had laughed in chorus.

The oldest of your trio scoffed in amusement as she placed the bag of Mora unto your waiting hand. "What, her? Why would I scold her, she probably knows every word like the back of her ha-" her rambling was then cut off by a loud smack on her bottom, a book expertly finding its way back to your hand with a perfectly cut smile. Her yelp was not unnoticed by the male as he laughs at the display.

"Let him be, he's really been patiently waiting for the release!" Jifang scoffs at the word patiently as you came to the defense of blunette. You were never really aware of the norm in Wanwen, as you usually come by at a time where you would have been alone. This was a first.

"Quite so! Just the start of the volume had me hooked, setting for the peak of the story climax! The synopsis itself already hinted of another inclusion of a new element into the story I had not expected from this style of a book, surely such a writer would not tread such parallel territory without being an expert teller-" Jifang watched in amusement as her gaze lands on you at the start of the bookworm's rambling, watching the redness touch the tip of your ear with an abashed smile shyly gracing your lips. Behind it she can see the mirth and amusement, something she outwardly shows with her own expression.

"Wow," was the Liyuean woman's only response once the speaker has finished his lengthy speech. His dorkiness stands with pride at his examination.

You cleared your throat before you could mutter your initial words, finally realizing the time. "That was... quite marvelous of an analysis. A-Anywaysss, thank you for your partnership, I hope the books are all sold by tomorrow!"

And with that you swiftly made your exit, wanting to find a place to scream the embarrassment out. Or maybe squeal, just to be subtle.

Entry Log # 15:

As a distant relative to the Guhua clan, the (L/N) clan was not exactly known to be tied closely to the prestigious clan known for their expert martial. However, despite the impure connection, they carry with them still the honor of learning the arts to a meticulous detail.

Your family was one of the living practitioners of the Guhua Arts, twice removed, yet your spotlight was not that obvious as the name would carry. Your father wish to carry a new kind of prestige without relying on the powerful namesake and he had been adamant since birth to grind every teaching and form of the art into his immediate family.

"Misogyny nor feminism will not save you from battle, only your own strength." Something along those lines, was what he said.

Your eldest brother was his main point of reference when scolding you on not taking your lessons properly. A slacker he is, now he lacks not only a means of security but also financial stability, that's what you end up to if you don't treasure the arts of our family. You have no idea how martial arts brings you monetary security, but you can't really state to your own father that his logic was a bit skewed.

Daily during morning and the first touch of evening, you had resigned yourself into training under your father's supervision. As the eldest daughter of the house, you carry with you still a responsibility to be strong. No fraility was accepted, and your mother always argues about your father's ever so masculine lifestyle being imposed on you, a lady that should be taught other customs for means of living.

Yet after every session, at the end of the day under the caress of the lamp by your study table, your hands move with precision and calmness he would have scoffed at in the dojo. The beauty of words and their power to create new worlds effortlessly had drawn you in too easily, ever since you were young you had a knack for the books your mother reads to herself or to you.

Entry Log # 651:

The next time you'd met the Wanwen Bookworm (nickname you gave) was a rare moment when he'd finally looked at you more than the book in his hand. It seemed your little interaction from the bookhouse was attention-grabbing enough to make him seek out your person with a bunch of questions and wonder.

You gulped, patting down your blue skirt before accompanying him. The way he rambles was too dangerous, it was drawing something within you to also do the same, and you feared you may let out something you shouldn't. But a fellow 'reader' is good company, and with the little interactions you had with the same age group with the same interest makes this moment something you can't pass.

"Carrier to the Yae Publishing House?" You nodded calculatedly, after confirming you've said just the right information. "Quite intriguing, especially with such young age to be working in line with the greatest press house in Teyvat." Ohhh, he's surely smart despite the first impression of goofiness.

You giggled as politely as you can remember you should upon the scarce teachings of your mother. "I've always liked literature so I couldn't uhm let the opportunity pass, even if it's insignificant like that." Good, good, piling up the lies. You're grateful you haven't made some contract of friendship and happen upon the wrath of your nation's God. Or Qixing.

"Surely, you must have been in the presence of some of the wordsmiths during your rendezvous! So tell me," there was a dangerous glint in his eyes and you knew exactly what he's gonna ask, "Have you met the legendary Bob Ong?"

Oh goodness, you felt him caress and pat your back as you tried your best to breathe after the sudden choking on nothing, he was so spot on that you were horrified even if you had an inkling of what he was gonna inquire. "I uhm I don't really know what I'm allowed to say." In the inside you were goddamn screaming.

"You don't have to tell me anything about him, really! It's his mystery that makes his character just the most intriguing." You gulped down hard, this time without choking out of nothing. "I don't really know much about who he is since he's, you know, unknown? No clues whatsoever, he could be anywhere right now, maybe you've talked to him already or no. Yeah?"

He held a convincing hum before taking in the cryptic answer, content, for now you assume. "Not many avid readers of the book can place a name to the unnamed author, but how blind they were to see the cryptic signature at the back of the cover. Truly a wonderous act." Xingqiu, you finally learned his name, had took you out to lunch for the trouble and enjoyment. It wasn't really necessary, but you figured it was probably to keep you with him longer to converse about the books more.

A lot of his... analysis actually coincide with the messages that you lodged between the lines. He understands your way of narration more than you do at times, and you were left wondering just how much he had read of the fourth volume despite only having it for a few days then. When evening once again struck, you had bid each other farewell in the promise of another time to hang.

"It's a literature of love and freedom- disguised as a martial arts novel." Was his parting analysis, and you were left to wonder, was that really what you had projected into your works?

Entry Log # 32:

In your young and hopeful mind, you'd sent your first ever manuscript to Yae Publishing House. It wasn't your first work but it was the one you worked hard on the most, with weeks of furbishing and reworks. Your mother, although not directly informed of your whole plan, had provided you with great feedback and generous suggestions. And soon you created the first manuscript of 'String of Pearls'.

With a generous note and what you hoped is enough mora to at least publish a book, your package was sent to Inazuma.

You waited for days, of which turned to weeks, and then to months. You thought by the end of it all, you had been swindled but as young as you still hoped for the best of its outcome.

And then one day, as you were sweeping the outside of your gates in preparation for your father's return from some business in the harbor, a lone man of Inazuman style found its way to your humble abode. He calls himself Mr. Nine, and in his arms cradled two similar looking books, with a familiar envelope.

That was when you had been given the opportunity to write for the greatest Publishing House under the guise of a pseudonym. The great Nine was astounded by your ripeness paired with your prowess in writing. You hid behind Bob Ong, a protection from being belittled as a young child and a woman, to prevent being traced by your father if ever.

Yet you remained as subtle still. Even if your name was not written on the covers themselves, within your heart you were still the writers of those books. You've placed anagrams and mysterious puzzles revealing your name but it was part of the intrigue of the story that they had not thought much about it.

One day, you lost your book when you had gone out to eat. It was the second copy, as you carried the first one in your room, yet it still held a special place in your heart.

Xingqiu was a master novelist too, as you'd expect from someone so enthusiastic on the art of literature too. You'd long since become friends and found out soon enough his true identity. The heir to the Feiyun Commerce Guild, master practitioner of the Guhua Clan Arts, soon to be novelist. He was in every aspect the better half between you two.

One day in his daily reading breaks where he would happen upon you, he had found his eyes wafting over your notebook that you always carry. It was designed to look like a hard bound book specially tailored to your tastes, but it was nothing but mere keepers of your notes and musings.

Your newest page had in it a brand new draft for a brand new story you wanted to flesh out before the success of Legend of the Lone Sword diminishes. Mr. Nine still praised you for the success of your first major publishing and had assured you that there's no need to immediately compensate with another work so early, but your mind was already so eager to work. Your friend had never seen you so- flamed and passionate as the paper caves to the intense pressure your pencil places on it.

So he leans on your shoulder slightly (glad you were still distracted) as he quietly reads the words that articulates on the paper. The more Xingqiu reads, the more he craves, just the same vigor he felt everytime he had read his favorite works when each chapter invigorates him to continue to the end.

"Such a great outline," the blunette breathes out as he leans his cheek at the crown of your head. You let out a cute squeak when you'd finally come to, and turned your head to face him- "I didn't know you were into romance, my liege. Tell me, just where do you get such inspirations?" Your nose softly collided against the smoothness of his cheek, your lips ghosting over the line that is his jaw.

You scrambled backwards to direction opposite of his, yet with his body weight leaning on you, his center of balance quickly shifted on your weight like a net being pulled against the sides of a boat. You both toppled over.

"My, my, I didn't expect such abrupt resistance from you," Xingqiu's arms caged you as it holds him up against the grassland on either side of you. There was a certain mischievous glint in the ocean that is his eyes, which only meant one thing. "No need to be shy," you closed your eyes shut as his face leans in closer to yours, fanning over the frame of your face as he lets out a warm yet teasing exhale, "I'm sure we've gone past our personal bubbles in this relationship." You felt his chest against yours and braced for the inevitable-

as he finally licked your nose(?).

What.

"X-XINGQIUUUUU!" And then a cry of pain after a particularly harmful blow.

Entry Log # 659:

Xingqiu had always been a man of great words despite his chicken scratch of a penmanship. Vivid tales of his manuscript that I'm sure the Publishing House would take great value for, his years of memorizing numerous works in his arsenal. He told me that if I were to one day publish the manuscript, he wants to get the first copy and the first to get it signed. However Xingqiu has one glaring weakness when it comes to the art of words. When I asked him what would be a good title for the manuscript I made, he simply said, "Tales of the Writer!" And he sent a goofy smile. I thought he was joking, and I asked again, this time of what his work would be named. He replied:

"Why, Legend of Sword, of course!" He really sucks at titles.

Entry Log # 660:

Upon returning home with my new work ready to be shipped off for mass publishing, I've finally confronted my father. I had with me the final volume of my first work and offered it to him as first a gift of reconciliation, and my father took it with a mirthful glint in his eyes. He said he has been looking for the last volume of the series he'd been wanting to complete. I... I didn't know father was a fan.

The climax of my entire double-life ended so peacefully and tragically meh. I was expecting a martial arts fight of honor that will go down in history, but instead I ended up signing my own book as my father gushed about how nicely I illustrated the martial arts teaching we had during our sessions. I did not sleep well that night.

October 9th was a day celebrated by others more than the young master Xingqiu. The pavilion was mixed in with people from different walks of life and of faces he doesn't necessarily recognize. He lingers by the open window that shows the grandeur balcony, beckoning him outside. Today was a scheduled new release for Wanwen Bookhouse, and he had heard several chatters from the citizens that a new series would be published hailing from Yae Publishing House once again.

And the virtuoso of literature cannot attend such important matter himself because of his own birthday. How irking, you weren't even there to help appease his grumbling, you should have been here by now upon his invitation.

Suddenly the master of invitations bellowed out a familiar name, as his job to announce the entrance of the invited guests to the banquet. When he looks up, you were already walking down the grand staircase in your creme and blue Hanfu garb, accompanied by a tall man of a different wear—

"(Y/N), M-Mr. Nine-!" He bowed politely to the man as you curtsied at his presence. You looked absolutely dashing yet the man towered your form easily. "It's my honor to finally meet you, sire."

"Happy birthday, Xingqiu, I've heard many great things about you," the blunette opened his hands to receive the book gifted by the man. It had a familiar cover and title to it, Legend of Sword, "Great things, in fact, that there would too be great things to discuss later on." The Inazuman graced him a smile and he almost teared up at the implications, if not for when the author suddenly nudged you forward from your demure state.

Tales of the Ghost Writer

"X-Xingqiu, happy birthday! This is uhm, I've always wanted to- I wanted to give you this myself, I know you'd miss the first batch of releases," an unfamiliar book sits on his palm now. A plume and sword adorning its cover but no title, he shifts his hand to open it to the first page, "You said you wanted its first copy be signed, and I thought it appropriate to be given now at such a special occasion."

There in fresh print and ink he'd finally been revealed the mysteries he had long been searching for.

Against the translucent paper it was written and signed,

Tales of The Ghost Writer

Bob Ong, (Y/N)

@creation-magician @your-local-venti-simp @boxofteenageideas @indigodreamtime47

[peaceisadirtyword]

Heathen V (Ivar/Edlynn)

A/N: Hello! I might have gotten a bit carried away with this(?) Sorry😅 I hope it’s not too boring though🥺 I was just going to rewrite the ending and suddenly... I had 1000 more words💀 anyway, I hope you like it!♥️ In this chapter I talk about norse mythology and christianity, and even if I’ve read about it (norse mythology, at least) I’m by no means an expert, so I had to consult some friends and people I know that are professionals. In any case, I’m sorry if I wrote anything wrong, please tell and forgive me.

Btw, thank you so much for your messages! I’m feeling better now🥰 I watched some videos of Alex and Marco and I calmed down a bit! I suppose I just need to relax a bit, it’s okay, but seriously thank you for your messages and for always being so understanding with me💞🙏🏻

Warnings: talk about religion, mentions of violence, war and all that sh1t... Ivar is too perfect I’d like to marry him but, unfortunately, I can't 

Words: don’t hate me but there’s 5492 words under this... I hope it’s worth it (?)

Heathen Masterlist

gif belongs to @therealcalicali​

For Edlynn, it was both scary and hypnotizing to see Ivar learning how to read. He seemed to understand things quickly and even if they didn't really have any materials for him to practice writing, Edlynn saw him carving letters on wood more than once, like he did with the runes. In a few days, Ivar could understand some parts of the books, even if he still needed help, and Edlynn remembered bitterly how much time it took for her to learn basic words and how many times the priest that taught her and her siblings scolded her.

In return, Ivar agreed to tell her a bit more about his culture. He talked about the Gods, even showed some runes to her, she asked him to show her their longships, and was amazed by the carvings and the designs. Sometimes, she'd ask him to translate some words from English to Norse, and soon became obsessed with his language, trying to memorize everything she could for when she went back home. Mildrith would love it. 

"Can we go back to reading?" Ivar sighed, raising an eyebrow when Edlynn asked him to translate a few words more. He had spent the entire day with Hvitserk and was on a good mood, but he was also tired. 

"Yes, sorry" she blushed a bit, realizing her eagerness was probably improper "Just one more, please" 

Ivar nodded slowly. He found her excitement adorable, and he had to hold back a smile more than once when she tried to repeat some words with a soft voice. 

"How do you say sun and moon?" she tilted her head, curiously "It's true that they are Gods for you?" 

Mildrith had told her once that the northman she had been with had told her that they worshipped the sun and the moon, as if they were Saints or Gods. And, for some reason, Edlynn became obsessed with it. 

"Those are two words" Ivar smirked "But they are Sól and Máni, and they are Gods, yes, but slightly different from the Aesir and the Vanir" he shrugged "It's a long story"

Edlynn waited a few more seconds, maybe expecting for him to keep telling the story. 

"So the moon is a Goddess?"

Ivar hummed, nodding. 

"She's a woman, sister to Sól, the sun" he shrugged.

"That makes sense" Edlynn bit her lip, interested "But, how can you say they are a man and a woman? They're not humans" she smiled softly, amused "They can't be man and woman" 

"But they are" Ivar frowned "It's like that story of yours about the Virgin, I've heard that one before, how can you tell she was a virgin?" he shrugged. 

"Because God chose her to carry his son, the one who would bring His word to us"

"You christians are too obsessed with virginity" Ivar rolled his eyes. Edlynn felt her cheeks burn, and cleared her throat. 

"It's a sin not to be a virgin when you get married"

"Yes, I've heard a lot about those sins" Ivar nodded "And I still think it's ridiculous, why would your God demand that you deny the pleasure of having sex to yourselves?"

"It's an act of purity, of faith" Edlynn narrowed her eyes. She knew the northmen were much less... Traditional, with these things, and sometimes she felt somehow curious. It wasn't a topic that was very discussed at the court, and much less at home with her father... Once, Edlynn and Mildrith saw a couple on the stables and asked Hilda about it. The nun was so angry at them that she made them pray for hours, and then made them promise they wouldn't go around talking about it.

"It's stupid" Ivar shrugged "You would be much happier if you forgot about that"

The girl pressed her lips together, a bit bothered. Ivar's smirk showed he was trying to get a reaction from her, but Edlynn wouldn't start arguing. 

"I didn't expect a heathen to understand it" she shrugged.

Ivar chuckled, shaking his head. 

"I've spent maybe too much time around christians to understand many things, but I still believe your God is weak" he licked his lips "Compared to Odin and Thor, he's weak and demanding"

She ignored him, looking back at the books and parchments they were studying. Finally, Ivar stood up, making Edlynn raise her head as he walked over to the bed, and sat down to take his braces off. She watched as his fingers worked quickly on them, freeing his legs. When Ivar started taking his clothes, she stiffened, blushing again, and stood up to tidy the books and avoid looking at him. If she had looked, she would have seen Ivar's amused smile. 

"The day and the night are also man and a woman" he continued, startling Edlynn. She turned to look at him, curious, but turned around when she realized he was shirtless "What? Are you also not allowed to look at me?"

"It's not proper" she muttered, looking down. During the nights she had been sharing his tent, she always slept with her back turned to him, and usually she would already be asleep when he went to bed. 

"Do you want to hear the rest of the story or not?" 

Edlynn hesitated, but finally turned around. He was doing it to bother her, and wouldn't give him the satisfaction of knowing it was working. The sight left her breathless. Ivar was one of the most handsome men she had ever seen, but not only his face was beautiful; he was strong, she had already noticed it when he grabbed her for the first time. Edlynn tried her best to avoid staring at his beautiful hair, collected in braids and tied that fell down his back and shoulder. 

"Dagr is the day, and he's the son of Nótt, the night, Odin gave each of them a chariot that they can ride on the sky... And two horses, Skinfaxi and Hrímfaxi" his own finger pointed at his chest, which was crossed by dark lines. Those strange drawings on his skin were normal among the northmen; she had seen those on their arms, necks, faces... It was weird but she had to bite her tongue more than once to avoid asking about them. 

Ivar had also another one on his back. Edlynn couldn't see much, but from the few glimpses she had caught, it looked like a snake. The ones he showed now had an intricate pattern, and she frowned softly while looking at them. 

"They don't look like horses" 

That made Ivar chuckle, but he didn't say anything else as she approached him, her eyes still fixed on his chest. When she was close enough, she raised her hand slowly. 

"Can I?" 

Ivar tensed, but finally nodded softly. Edlynn didn't know what to expect when her fingers touched the dark ink, but was somewhat surprised by the feeling of his skin. It was warm and his muscles tensed under her touch when her finger roamed around his chest following the lines. It was hypnotizing, and she couldn't feel anything else that wasn't Ivar. 

She found his necklace. It was always hidden under his clothes, so it caught her attention. The question was written all over her face when she looked at his eyes again. 

"Mjölnir" he answered quietly "Thor's hammer" 

Edlynn nodded. She had heard about that, and thought it would be something like the cross that hang from her own neck. 

Finally, she moved her hand backwards, almost like she just realized what she was doing and was suddenly too shy to keep touching him. Ivar's eyes were still fixed on Edlynn as she turned around, getting away from him faster than he would have liked, and soon she was laying on her side of the bed, with her back turned to him and her body tense and stiff, not bothering to cover herself. 

______________________________

Edlynn was amazed by the shieldmaidens. She had heard about them more than once, since she was a kid, and sometimes imagined herself with a sword when she watched her brother, Edward, train with their father. But when she said it once, during dinner, everyone turned to look at her with widened eyes. Both her father and her sister reprimanded her; the battlefield is no place for women, you're needed at home, praying and taking care of the children. 

Since then, the thought hadn't crossed her mind again. 

She also saw the two viking women training when they were staying with King Alfred. They moved gracefully, and easily defeated male warriors, it was entertaining and interesting to see, and Mildrith and her would always sit and watch her, but always under the stern gaze of their fathers. Once, the blonde woman she had often seen with Bishop Heahmund offered them to try. Edlynn remembered the soft smile and how she approached them. She was sure her face lightened up, but as soon as she opened her mouth, Lord Eldred was behind her, he gripped her shoulder with maybe too much force. His daughter wouldn't go near a sword, he had said sternly. And the viking woman sighed, shooting her a sad smile before leaving. 

But in that camp, even with her wrists tied and three northmen around her, she was free to watch as much as she wanted. 

There was a group of many women, training with her swords, axes and shields. They fought fiercely, but laughing and hugging each other, and Edlynn was amazed. She barely blinked and didn't know how much time she had been there watching them. The women didn't seem to care, and she felt more at ease around them than around the men. 

But when she turned her head, startled by some other sounds coming from her right, something else caught her attention. The first thing she saw was Hvitserk dodging a dagger as he trained with another viking. She knew that dagger, and soon her eyes fixed on Ivar, who was leant on a tree and smirked softly. He had a horn on his hand, and his eyes shone as they only did when he was around his brother. Next to him, Edlynn saw some arrows and a wooden bow, an axe and another sword.

He hadn't seen her, and she stayed silent and still, watching. He was relaxed, laughing and had a playful smirk on his lips. In some way, he was even more handsome. Soon, he got tired of just watching and grabbed the bow and arrows, tensing it slowly. His gaze was fixed on the tree in front of him, and Edlynn couldn't help but stare at him as his whole body tensed. She remembered when her brother learnt archery, when his arms were always shaking. Ivar didn't move a single muscle until he shoot the arrow. 

"Don't miss, brother, you have an audience" Hvitserk's voice startled both Ivar and Edlynn, and when his eyes finally landed on her, his expression changed. She wasn't able to point exactly what changed, but Ivar barely looked at her. 

"See something you like, princess?" 

Edlynn felt her cheeks burn, and pressed her lips together when she heard the guards and some other men chuckling behind her, refusing to let them see her. Ivar also smirked, leaning to grab another arrow. 

"I was just watching" she muttered. Ivar looked amused when he turned his head to look at her. 

"Want to try?" he pointed at the tree. Edlynn hesitated, knowing that grabbing a bow and shooting arrows wasn't proper. But then again... There was no one there to scold her, right? And probably, if King Alfred reached an agreement with them, she wouldn't have to see any of them again. 

She nodded softly, feeling a strange rush of excitement like the ones she used to feel when she was little and did something that was strictly forbidden. Ivar nodded at the guards and they let her go after untying her wrists. 

"I don't think you have done this before, am I right?"

Edlynn narrowed her eyes at him and snatched the bow from his hands, making him laugh. It was heavier than she ever thought, and nearly let it fall to the ground. But she could already imagine how much the men would laugh if she dropped the bow. 

"Turn around" Ivar ordered, and Edlynn obeyed slowly, still hesitating and nervous because of all those pairs of eyes fixed on her, studying her every move. She wasn't a warrior, but a noble lady that lived  in a castle, so her movements were clumsy and not graceful at all. 

She startled and nearly jumped when Ivar's hands touched her waist. 

"What are you doing?" she whispered, widening her eyes. 

"Don't you want to learn?" Ivar shrugged, an innocent tone on his voice that Edlynn didn't believe. 

His strong hands moved her effortlessly, and she tried not to blush even more when she felt Ivar's body closer to hers. She could even feel his breathing behind her neck. 

Ivar worked in silence, making sure she was on the right position before taking a new arrow. Edlynn frowned when she tensed the bow and her arms started shaking, even if Ivar was the one that practically held it behind her. 

"Stop shaking" he scolded her, and Edlynn could hear some chuckles around her. Some of the shieldmaidens had stopped training and came to watch. The saxon girl making a fool of herself, how amusing. 

Ivar's closeness, his scent and his body practically wrapped around her weren't helping. Edlynn felt her heart beating faster and faster as his fingers touched hers to position them around the arrow. 

"Now" he muttered into her ear when he was finally satisfied "Loose"

Edlynn tried her best to point at the tree, but the arrow flew next to it and got lost into one of the bushes. 

Everyone laughed. She could even hear Ivar chuckling next to her ear, and her cheeks reddened again. She glared at them and scoffed. 

"It's fine, you'll get better if you practice" Ivar had a smile on his lips, but Edlynn couldn't say if he was mocking her or actually being nice. 

One of the northmen said something loudly in their language, making everyone laugh even harder. Ivar sighed and shook his head, but had that small smirk on his face. 

Narrowing her eyes, Edlynn reached for another arrow, making everyone stop laughing and look at her with an eyebrow raised. Ivar had an even bigger smile on his face when she turned to look at him. 

"I want to try again"

_______________________________

Mildrith was furious. She couldn't understand why they kept discussing God knows what in that tent when Edlynn was held as a prisoner in the enemies' camp. It was true that she was more calmed now that the scout came back and assured she was well and unharmed. Mildrith always knew her friend would survive; Edlynn was strong and smart, but she also knew they could have hurt her in many ways. Especially Ivar the Boneless. 

She almost shivered when she thought about him. Mildrith had always wanted to see Ivar at least once, to see if what they said was true, but to be captured by him? Her mind had replayed every single story she had heard about that heathen from the women of York. 

Even that young viking she had had a quick affair with had talked about him; he was the most letal of the sons of Ragnar, a monster. 

And King Alfred knew it! He had met him more than once, he had been fighting in York after the Great Heathen Army killed both his grandfathers. How he had allowed them to keep Edlynn for so long was a mystery to her. 

Hilda kept praying, kneeled at the feet of what one day was Edlynn's bed with a cross between her hands. Mildrith didn't understand what praying would do, God didn't help her before and it seemed he wouldn't help her now. She was also angry at Him. 

More than once, she had wished she could use a sword so she could enter the northmen's camp and free her. 

"Mildrith" the nun sighed. She had dark circles under her eyes and her voice sounded weak. Hilda had barely slept or ate since Edlynn, the little girl she had raised almost as if she was her own, had been taken. She prayed day and night, hoping she would be well and no one would hurt her in any way "Please, stop pacing around the tent, sit here with me and let's pray"

"I don't want to pray" the young, raven-haired girl, clenched her fists, glaring at her "I want them to get out of that tent and go find Edlynn"

"They can't do that" Hilda sighed, her trembling hands rubbing her own face "The king is doing everything he can, Mildrith, and you know it, he appreciates Edlynn a lot, but they're asking for a high price, and he must think about the rest of the country too"

Mildrith scoffed. She hated it, she hated politics, war and negotiations. She couldn't understand it. They were in their own country! They were stronger! Why couldn't they just raise a bigger army to go and free her?

"We have do something" 

"We can't" the nun shook her head "You know we can't, we can only have faith and hope she will be returned to us soon"

The young girl sighed, sitting down on the bed. She didn't want to have faith nor pray, she wanted her friend back. Her only comfort was to know that Edlynn would have many stories to tell, when she came back. 

___________________________________

"They're asking for all of that, for a young woman?" 

Alfred raised his head, narrowing his eyes at the man who just spoke. 

"They're not asking anything, my lord, they demand all of this" he explained, slowly "And Edlynn isn't just a young woman, she is a dear friend, the daughter of one of my most trusted advisors and the sister to one of the men that I trust with my life every day"

"They want gold" Lord Eldred sighed. He was pale and had lost weight, Alfred hadn't seen him sleep nor eat for days "A lot of gold... And land, more land?" he sounded desperate. 

"Yes, but separated from the land I gave to Björn and Ubbe Ragnarsson" the king rubbed his face "They also want a truce, some time to settle on our lands" 

"That's the part that worries me" Lord Eldred shook his head "Why do they want time to settle? Do I have to choose between my daughter's death and a possible invasion?"

"We don't know if they plan an invasion, my lord" Alfred shrugged "For now, I am trying to save your daughter's life before anything else" 

"She must be so scared" her father rubbed his eyes "All alone, surrounded by barbarians, God knows what they are doing to her"

"Our scout assured she was unharmed, Lord Eldred, I believe him" the king softened his tone "Ivar won't hurt her for as long as we don't anger him" 

"I will pay as much as I can" Lord Edmund spoke for the first time since the reunion started "To ensure my lady's safe return"

Her father looked at her with a sad smile. 

"Thank you, my lord" Alfred nodded "The messenger is out there, ready to leave for their camp to give them our reply"

"What do you say, my king?" Queen Elsewith put a hand on his shoulder. Alfred took her hand softly and sighed, looking down at the table. For days, he had been thinking about his decision, trying to find the best solution for all of them. If he agreed, there would be consequences, Ivar would know he had an advantage, many of his lords wouldn't agree with him. If he refused, Edlynn would suffer things worse than death before her head was sent to them, he was nearly sure of that. 

Edlynn was a good girl. Responsible, obedient and polite. They had played together when they were children, and he couldn't stop thinking that it was Elsewith whom they wanted. Would they have so many doubts about saving her or not if it had been his queen?

He sighed. 

"I say we agree" he nodded "And that we will meet them in the forest to give them what they want in exchange for Lady Edlynn"

____________________________________

Ivar's arms hurt. It had been a while since he practiced so much archery, and the muscles of his back and arms were already sore when he retired to the tent. His face also hurt from laughing so much, and he didn't remember when was the last time he had laughed so much, probably it was when he was still with Igor. He couldn't help but smile softly remembering the kid he had learnt to love as if he was his own son. 

Before entering the tent, he could hear Edlynn whispering some words in English. He supposed she'd be reading, as she used to do since he let her read the books freely. He had to wait outside to force himself to stop smiling like an idiot before entering. 

Edlynn raised her head and smiled softly when he entered the tent. In part, it was because of her he had had so much fun that day, he never guessed that teaching archery to a saxon girl could be that entertaining.

She was also tired. Her arms hurt and she only wanted to get into bed and sleep, but at the same time every time she closed her eyes, with her head leant on the soft pillows and inhaled Ivar's scent her mind went back to his hands around her waist, his breath on her neck and the soft whispers with which he had guided her. She even remembered the small smile she had seen on his face when she had finally managed to struck the tree and her cheeks would redden. Now, seeing him entering the tent leant onto his crutch with clouded eyes from drinking so much mead, laughing with his brother and even letting himself take a nap next to the fire, made her heart beat faster again. 

"How are you, princess?" the playful tone made her nearly sigh in relief. He was still in a good mood.

"Tired" she muttered "But fine, it was... Interesting, to use a bow" 

Ivar hummed softly, sitting down on the bed as Edlynn closed the huge book she had on the bed, leaning to leave it on the floor, next to the bed, she kneeled behind him and watching him as he fiddled with the braces. She bit her lip, not knowing what to say but wanting to keep talking to him. 

"The men were quite impressed with you" he said, not looking at her "A shame we don't have time, I'm sure we could turn you into a fine shieldmaiden" 

Edlynn tried to hide her excited smile. 

"Really?" 

This time Ivar turned around a bit. His amazing eyes fixed on her curving lips before landing on her eyes. 

"Yes, I think you have potential, it would be though, we'd have to work a lot with those little arms and small hands, but we could do something" he shrugged "But we can't, you're too eager to go back to your castle, your husband and your dresses"

Her smiled faded slowly as he turned away once again. It was true she really wanted to see and hug Mildrith, Hilda, Edward and her father, but at the same time, she didn't want to say goodbye to Ivar. 

At first, she had been scared, even tried to run thinking those heathens would torture and kill her, remembering all those stories she had heard about the ruthless Ivar the Boneless. But that playful, blue-eyed northman that she had seen giggling with his brother, telling stories about his Gods and who had guided her until she had finally succeeded with the bow didn't look like the monster they described on their stories. It was almost human; a human with his own beliefs and ambitions that wasn't so different from all those men she had met in England. 

"Lord Edmund is not..."

"Not your husband yet, I know, princess" he chuckled "But he will be soon, right? Even if I would advise you to reconsider that marriage, taking in consideration that he didn't came to this camp to cut my head off for taking his woman" 

Edlynn chuckled. She knew Lord Edmund couldn't really make that decision, besides, she didn't expect him to risk his life for a woman he just met. 

"I can't reconsider anything, actually" she smiled sadly "It wasn't my decision" 

Ivar raised his eyebrows, nodding slowly. Then he moved to take off his clothes, and Edlynn looked away with her cheeks flushed. 

"If I was your father, then, I wouldn't give my daughter to a man that wouldn't die for her" 

"I can't ask him that" she smiled, his words warmed her heart "He barely knows me" 

"Wouldn't you prefer to marry someone you loved?" Ivar got rid of his shirt, and Edlynn couldn't help but take a look of the dark lines of his back, shaped like a snake. 

"I..." she frowned "I will learn to love him, he's... He's good, a good man, he's nice and handsome and... I'm lucky that he chose me, I know many women that had to marry old men that didn't treat them well... Also, I don't know anyone who married for love" she chuckled. With time, she convinced herself that love was built, not found. All those tales Hilda had told her when she was little were fantasy. 

"I married for love" Ivar muttered, almost like he didn't mean for Edlynn to hear "I did love the woman I married"

She felt as if someone had kicked her chest. Suddenly, she stopped looking at him and felt stupid for even feeling sad about the fact that he had a wife. Of course he had a wife. 

Ivar groaned as he laid on the bed, covering his legs with the furs and closing his eyes as he relaxed against the pillows. 

"I didn't know you were married"

Ivar opened his eyes, looking up with what she could describe as a heartbroken expression. 

"I was" he muttered "Some time ago" 

Edlynn tilted her head with curiosity. 

"What happened to her?" she almost felt bad for asking, but Ivar didn't seem to mind. 

"She died" his jaw clenched "She betrayed me and she died"

"And... how was she?" 

"She was... Beautiful" he almost smiled, and Edlynn bit her lip, looking down "She looked like Freyja, she was blonde and had blue eyes" 

The opposite of me, she thought, and immediately felt stupid for even thinking it. 

"She sounds pretty" she smiled softly, hating that sad look on his eyes. Ivar then turned his head to look at her, and blinked slowly, almost like he was realizing something. 

"I've only loved three women in my life" he shrugged "And one of them was my mother" 

His face contorted again, almost like it pained him to think about her. 

"And who was the other one?" 

Ivar's lips curved on a smile. 

"The mother of my child" he muttered "She was a princess, like you, but she was mysterious while you are not" he chuckled. Edlynn glared at him, but ignored his comment once again. 

"I'm not a princess, though" 

"Because you don't want to" he shrugged "You could be a princess, even a queen, if you wanted to, you are pretty enough to conquer a king" 

"Me?" Edlynn giggled, blushing softly "No, I don't think so" 

"You would be a good queen" he insisted "You're strong and smart, you respect people" Ivar nodded.

"I still need to find a king" she shrugged "Still pretty impossible" 

"Lord Edmund could be your king" Ivar pronounced her betrothed's name mockingly, as always. 

"No" Edlynn shook her head "He's handsome, brave and good, but he couldn't be my king, nor my prince, I'd have to find another" 

The intensity of Ivar's gaze burned her skin. Edlynn looked away, and moved to lay down and rest her head on the pillows, sticking to her side of the bed as she always did. 

"I never knew my mother" she muttered, changing the topic before the tension on the tent escalated too much "She died not long after I was born... She was from Ireland, from a place called Dubh Linn, have you heard about it?" 

Ivar nodded slowly. His people had raided that place more than once.

"So she wasn't a saxon?" 

Edlynn shook her head. 

"Her father brought her here when his lands were taken from him, trying to procure a good future for her and marry her to a lord, my father asked for her hand... At least, that's what they always told me" she shrugged "Father always said I have her hair, and that I look like her... I think that's why he didn't want to raise me when she died, I think it was painful for him... But I can't complain, Hilda is great" Edlynn groaned and rubbed her eyes when she realized she was talking a lot "Please, forgive me, I talk too much" 

"No, it's fine" Ivar shook his head with a soft voice, he had turned to look at her, and he felt like he was looking at a goddess. Maybe it was the mead, maybe the exhaustion, but he couldn't help but move a bit closer to her. 

"My mother died too" he added "She was killed" he clenched his fists in rage "She always cared for me, she always protected me, even when my father wasn't there" he had a small, sad smile on his lips as he remembered the, sometimes suffocating, love his mother had showed him "And I miss her everyday" 

Edlynn nodded. Even if she didn't remember her mother, she also missed her. And in some way she wished she could have had such a relationship with her, maybe she would have been able to explain to her what was that thing she felt, laying down on a northmen's bed and looking at him closely. 

"You and I aren't so different, then" she pointed out, smiling softly. Was it her or they were closer now?

"I suppose we are not" the thought seemed to amuse him "Even if we worship different Gods and speak different languages" 

When Ivar turned his head again, Edlynn was so close he could feel her quick breathing on his lips. It was nearly as intoxicating as the mead he had drank. 

Ivar's hand reached to caress her hair, making Edlynn shudder and gasp, almost like she realized what she was doing. 

"Is it not... Inappropriate to be so close to a heathen, princess?" he teased a bit, enjoying the way her cheeks turned red once again. 

"At this point..." she sighed, barely able to think about anything that wasn't Ivar "I don't really care" 

That made him laugh and his grip on her hair tightened. Edlynn wasn't lying, she couldn't think about God or anything that weren't his blue eyes and his lips parted. Without even thinking about it, she leant in while closing her eyes, and didn't stop until she felt his warm lips against hers. 

Edlynn had never kissed anyone, unlike Mildrith and some of the girls at the court, that were stolen a kiss or two in the stables or in a hidden corner of the castle. She never looked at the boys, too occupied with her books, her prayers and other important things. But she could understand now what the priests meant when they talked about temptation. Ivar's lips were addictive, better than anything she had ever tasted, and ignited something inside her that she couldn't recognize. 

The kiss was slow, passionate but also shy. They stopped kissing for a moment, but she had barely opened her eyes when Ivar's hand cupped her neck, his thumb caressing her cheek softly before he leant in again. And Edlynn had to put her hand on his warm chest to balance herself, moving her lips against his and leaning more and more into him, feeling like she would die if she wasn’t as close to him as possible. 

When they finally broke the kiss, none of them opened their eyes. Ivar was panting, one hand secured against her neck, to keep her lips close to his, and the other one had landed on her waist when she had leant into him almost straddling his waist, and his heart was beating so fast it was almost scary. Her forehead leant into his and Ivar sighed. It had been a long time since he had felt that warmth inside him. 

________________________________________

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