#shut up eydis

[transzojja]

of course people like rytlock brimstone, he's the most badass hardass sopping wet sad beast in the entire series. he's a tribune, the rest of blood legion hates his guts, he's a hero who's slain dragons, he fucked up and unleashed a corrupt war god, female charr want him carnally, he's divorced, he's the only one with sense, his own son thinks he's a loser, every other race thinks he's big and scary, he's a runt compared to almorra soulkeeper. the dick must be insane.

[dragons-bones]

FFXIV Write Entry #21: Ashes

Prompt: grave || Master Post || On AO3

A/N: Hello, friends. It's time for some tonal whiplash. In the second half of this fill, these WARNINGS APPLY: references to war and mass casualties; disrespectful treatment of the dead.

--

“Suppose if you have to say one nice thing about fucking Gaius van Baelsar,” Eydis said in a low growl, “it’s that he insisted his bureaucrats keep track of everything.”

Synnove grunted, arms crossed and shoulders hunched in on herself, staring warily out before them. Tyr sat between them, ears pinned back flat to his head.

I don’t like this place, he boofed.

They were south of Ala Mhigo, on one of the plateaus that had once been used for religious rites. The shrine to Rhalgr that had existed here, once, had been razed during the Mad King’s time, as had the smaller one to his daughter Halone. It had been left empty, bare and open to storms and sky, ever since.

Except for one thing.

Eydis sighed, long and slow and tired, and lowered herself to sit cross-legged on the ground. Synnove joined her, and Tyr promptly loafed.

Together, the cousins took out various items from their packs: a brazier, carefully; sticks of incense; two flat honey cakes; a bottle of arak; five cups, never used, made of unglazed ceramic. Eydis dumped charcoal into the brazier, and Synnove lit it with a snap of her fingers, then both of them lit the incense sticks with the brazier’s new crackling flame before burying the ends of each stick into the ground. Tyr unloafed just long enough to pat the ground once, soft as a feather, and the earth sealed tight around each incense stick.

Synnove uncorked the arak, and poured a dram into each of the little ceramic cups. As she did that, Eydis broke one honey cake into quarters: one quarter she tossed out onto the open plateau, the other three into the brazier. She did the same with the second, humming all the while.

One cup in front of Eydis, one in front of Synnove, one in front of Tyr, and the other two were set within the coals and broken honey cakes of the brazier. Almost immediately, the arak in the last two cups began to sizzle.

Synnove wrapped her arms around Tyr’s neck and rested her cheek on top of his head. Tyr snuggled close and began his deep, bone-rattling purr. Eydis leaned back on her hands, watching the smoke from the incense and brazier twist and curl as it rose into the growing gloom of dusk.

“Will you tell Ma about this?” Eydis said, when half the arak in the brazier cups had steamed away.

Synnove let out a slow breath. “If she asks directly, yes,” she said. “Otherwise…no.”

Eydis nodded, humming in approval, and they fell back into easy silence.

When the last of the arak had joined the incense and the strongest smell that lingered was honey, Eydis and Synnove picked up their cups and tossed back the arak in them. Tyr lapped at what was in his cup, making a face, but finishing it anyway.

The coals with the ashen remains of the honey cakes and used incense and cups—all five—were laid in a shallow hole that Tyr dug. The remaining arak in the bottle was poured over the detritus, the bottle then shattered to join it all, and finally it was all covered and packed down. The brazier was cleaned and packed away.

And then Eydis and Synnove and Tyr left. They did not look back.

--

“I hate burial detail.”

Vultures circled, bodies rotted, and fucking G’atoh oen Potitus bitched about every work detail he was on. Dantro rolled his eyes. He’d told the miqo’te to shut up multiple times already, no use wasting any more breath on it.

At least they were nearly done.

He hauled himself up into the cart, stomping to the back to grab the last body under its armpits and dragging it backwards. Always so efficient, the Black Wolf’s war machine: Ala Mhigo hadn’t been wearing Garlean tri-color even a day before the dead were being pulled off the streets and the blood and soot being washed away. Garlean officers, of course, were put in cold storage and sent back to Garlemald; the rank-and-file were either sent home (Garleans) or buried in hastily dug soldiers’ cemeteries side by side (everyone else), though the latter was still accompanied by formal eulogies and a soulless ceremony the Black Wolf would pontificate at.

The enemy dead got large pits made by warmachina, dug miles away from where they’d been slaughtered so they wouldn’t contaminate the water their conquerors would drink.

Dantro reached the edge of the cart, hopped down, and then hauled the body after him, long inured to the metal and meat thunk of dead weight hitting the ground. One step, second step, edge of the pit. Drop the armpits, step to the side, plant his boot into the side, and push the corpse into the pit.

This one landed face up, the noon sun catching a glint of a buckle hammered into the shape of a wolf’s head on leather armor. Gold eyes on both the wolf and the corpse’s face stared sightlessly into the sky.

Dantro noted the bullet between its eyes and grunted. At least he’d gone quick. “Consider yourself lucky,” he muttered. “You won’t have to see this new world they’re trying to build.”

G’atoh dropped the last body from the cart he’d been working on and it shifted the pile in this spot; the corpse Dantro had pushed in slid to the side, revealing another one of similar coloring: dark skin, red hair, gold eyes. A silver wolf on his armor, too. Maybe an uncle, or father. Poor bastards.

He pounded on the back of the cart, and it began to move back towards the city for another load. Dantro would be stuck here, too, until nightfall. But better burial detail than clearing the city of any remaining insurgents. Stiffs couldn’t knife you in the back.

Before he moved away, he paused. Turned back to the edge of the pit, looking down. He pushed the visor of his helm up, rolling his neck—and spat.

To anyone watching, it looked like derision, contempt for the dead; not unusual, especially from Garleans, especially when the Black Wolf couldn’t see. But in Dalmasca, giving water to the dead was one of the few things Dantro’s people had left after the Garleans stripped them of their gods and their pride. It was all he could do now, for a people about to have the same done to them.

Dantro pulled his visor back down and walked away to report to the beancounters keeping meticulous track of the number of bodies and where in the city they’d come from. As he did, he saw the flamethrower crews coming forward. Huh, maybe he could be back in his bunk at a reasonable hour, then, if they weren’t going to add more to the pile.

High above, vultures circled. And then the dead burned.

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[the-writing-trash-panda]

I’m Your Friend, I Want to Help

Fandom: httyd

Paring: Snotlout x Ruffnut

Rating: fluff

Words: 733

This takes place sometime between rtte and htttd2

Snotlout leaned against the chained ceiling of the training arena as he watched the sparring match going on below him. It was normal for the twins to fight and honestly, they had toned it down a little today but it was still fun to watch Ruffnut beat her brother’s ass. Next to him was a rather energetic Annalout who had insisted on spending the day with her big brother. The younger of the siblings was nonstop talking about what advantages each twin had and how she couldn’t wait to see who won. Snotlout shook his head in amusement when just as he suspected Ruff came out victorious and Tuff was rolling on the floor making it seem like he was in more pain than he actually was.

“Hey losers, how about we show them what we Jorgonsons are really made of with a little two v two?” Snotlout didn’t even have time to turn around before an arm was slung over his shoulders, he didn’t even have to look to know that it was Leiflout, the oldest of the Jorgonson siblings.

“No, you two always team up against us and it’s not fair,” Anna whined, though it was in vain as Siggielout threw her over his shoulder without a word and carried her down. After grabbing their desired weapons and stretching the Jorgenson siblings began their skirmish.

In the beginning Snotlout and Annalout were doing pretty good at dodging attacks and even got a few of their own but it didn’t take long before Anna decided to team up with the other two leaving Snotlout stumbling as he avoided three different attacks. Snotlout tried to keep focused but that was a lot harder to do with the twins constantly giving their own input, most of which was jokes about how bad their friend was doing. Turning around to tell the two to shut up, Snotlout let down his guard long enough for Leiflout to scratch his cheek and kick him into the wall.

“Wow, that looks like it hurts. Anyway the trade is here, do you guys want to come with me,” Eydis said, walking into the arena and gaining the full attention of Tuffnut. She received a chorus of yeahs before almost being knocked over by the still standing Jorgonsons.

“Hey Ruff, you coming?” the younger twin asked, grabbing his mace and giving his sister a quizzical look.

“I’ll catch up with you in a minute, I want to see how bad Snotty’s wound is.” Ruffnut waved off her brother, praying to Loki he would use this time to try and woe Eydis. Did she think he was the most annoying and stupid person on Berk, gods yes; but he was still her brother and she’d be damned if she didn’t try and help him win over his crush. And besides he didn’t need to see her actually providing comfort to Snotlout, she’d never hear the end of it.

“That’s a pretty nasty cut, and honestly I wouldn’t be surprised if you have several bruises as well,” Ruffnut stated kneeling down next to her friend and moving his hair so she could fully see his injured cheek. “Do you want me to help you to Gothi’s?”

“I’m fine, why are you helping me anyway? That's not normal for you,” Snotlout said looking up at the blonde.

“You looked like you needed a friend, but if you’d rather I leave you here to wallow in your self pity than be my guest,” Ruffnut snapped, already regretting her decision. She would have left him then and there if it weren’t for the fact that he had grabbed hold of her hand. Sighing, she sat down next to him laying her head on his shoulder; she had known him long enough that she didn’t even have to ask what was bothering him. All his life he had been compared to his brothers and it was clearly taking a toll on him. No words were shared between the two, none were needed as the blonde used her emergency supplies to tend to the other’s wound and placed a gentle kiss on his forehead, silently reminding him that she would always be there for him.

“You know I prefer you over them any day. They’re not as fun as you,” Ruffnut said, pulling Snotlout to his feet and walking to the docks with him, their hands intertwined.

[ozarkthedog]

𝙄 𝙘𝙖𝙧𝙚 𝙖𝙗𝙤𝙪𝙩 𝙮𝙤𝙪, 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙮𝙤𝙪, 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙮𝙤𝙪 | 𝐏𝐞𝐝𝐫𝐨 𝐏𝐚𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐥 𝐱 𝐆𝐍!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

summary: you welcome Pedro home with some homemade Alfajores

warnings: rpf. fluff. the fluffiest of fluff. kissing. 

word count: 677

author’s note: first time writing for pedro 😅 also, you must listen to the song that inspired this ficlet, “Piel Canela” by Eydie Gormé & Los Panchos. i absolutely adore it.

this little ficlet is for @saintbvcky​ because she’s been begging for some Pedro fluff. 💙

☽ 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭 ♁ 𝐎𝐳𝐳𝐢𝐞'𝐬 𝐋𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 ☾

The catchy melody of “Piel Canela” fills the house as you putter around the kitchen softly singing to yourself as you pull a hot pan of Alfajores from the oven. The kitchen smells of vanilla and buttery sweetness from the hour-long session of baking biscuits and making dulce de leche. Despite the massive amount of dishes that wait for you in the sink, you smile proudly to yourself. You finally found a recipe that was like the one Pedro raved about while growing up.

Pedro was finally coming home after a week away while he promoted his latest project. You thought it’d be a nice surprise to welcome him home. What’s better than sugar and love?

You shimmy your hips to the catchy rhythm while rolling the cooled, caramel layered biscuits in coconut before depositing them onto a rack. You mumble your way through the Spanish lyrics, cringing when you mess up some of the words. For dating a man who spoke fluent Spanish, you definitely should know more than you do.

Just then a booming voice calls out making you jump and almost throw a biscuit across the room. A deep, sultry voice fills the kitchen and croons along with the song, “Y solamente tú, y tú, y tú.”

A solid mass plants against your spine and envelopes you. “Hola, mi amor.” Pedro, whispers before kissing your neck. You close your eyes and melt into his arms, elated he was finally home.

Pedro sings into the shell of your ear while you both sway to the romantic tune, satisfied being in one another’s arms for just a bit longer until the song slowly fades out.

You turn in his hold and greet him with a smile before he tips your chin and pulls you into a tender kiss. His lips slide over yours with ease. He pulls you tighter, deepening the kiss making you wrap your arms around his neck as you get lost in one another.

A buzzer sounds and you tear yourself free of his grasp, laughing when he groans and pouts. 

“Don’t worry, it’ll be worth it.” You say as you pull the last round of biscuits from the oven.

Pedro’s eyes go wide when he spots in already made desserts.

“Are you baking what I think you’re baking?!” He squeals, slapping his hands against his cheeks in excitement. You nod cheerfully and pick up one of the cooled treats and let him take a bite. “I hope they’re just like the ones you ate growing up.” You ask, shyly.

Pedro’s eyes flutter shut while he chews the delectable salty, sweet pastry. He takes his time savoring the treat, leaving you in limbo until he lets out a deep, pleased groan. “Cariño, that was absolutely delicious!”

He hastily grabs your face and kisses you with his caramel stained lips. You happily smile into the embrace before he pulls away just as quick as he came and giddily reaches behind you for another biscuit. 

“Don’t eat too much now. Save some for after dinner.” You pester as sugary crumbs tumble down his chest and get stuck between your bodies.

You don’t know why you bother to “adult” with him when he reaches for another except this time he presses the biscuit against your lips. You share a coy look with the man and take a reserved bite appreciating the flavors. You press your fingers to your lips, “Damn, that’s good.”  

You open your mouth to take another bite but it’s yanked out of reach as he gobbles it down. Bits of coconut stick to his mustache and you can’t help but be enamored. 

“I may have to leave more often if this is what I get to come home too.” He says with a smirk.

“You’re insufferable.” You murmur. 

You raise a hand to brush the flakes out of his stache but he bends down and playfully dusts them on your cheek causing you to scream and laugh and swat his chest desperate to get away before he pulls you into another affectionate kiss.

this is so stinkin’ cute i want to vomit. 🥰🥰🥰

[therealvikingstrash]

Fire emoji (I'm on my laptop, so I don't know how to do it!) + the night sky

The way I just snorted at how cute that was 😂💕 okay, Ubbe pushed his way to the front with a WOC!OFC, so here goes:

Contrary to popular belief, Ubbe is not patient. He's good at making the people around him believe that he is, but he has to hold himself back every minute of every day. He's thinking about sex- all the time and mostly when he'll be able to fuck. But he knows he has to keep up his appearance as dutiful older brother- Prince Ubbe, the next in line to take the throne. Not a profligate.

Usually that means he has to wait until his little brothers are asleep to take care of his own needs. Hidden under the darkness of the night sky, Ubbe slips out of the Longhouse, bypassing drunks and those who are just like him. 

During the day, he always makes time to carve a message into a piece of wood to let his next plaything know where to meet him in the dark. So far, no one has denied Ubbe, they all showed up at the outskirts of Kattegat like he'd asked for. Only the stars twinkling above them leading the way.

His father owned a hut not far from it- not like he needed it with his disappearance- and the dark skinned beauty for tonight is making her way towards him. 

Before she reaches Ubbe, he turns and leads the way farther away in the direction of his hut. He hears her follow with careful steps and notices her waiting outside until Ubbe has lit all the oil lamps. She's not stupid, he thinks proud of his choice, but what had he expected? Her father had taken her mother with him from a faraway land and she'd grown up with the knowledge of both cultures. He had heard her speak in a different tongue with her mother, gaining his interest instantly.

Her father was one of the richer men in Kattegat, providing beautiful golden pearls she could fasten in her hair. The style was Viking, but also not. They were intricate, no loose hair at all to find. Eydis braids never matted, unless drenched in the blood of a sacrifice. 

"I've heard of you, Prince Ubbe," she said, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. Eydis leaned back against the door as it fell shut, hands hidden behind her, "And what you're doing here to all the girls."

"And yet you're here," Ubbe responded, closing the gap between them to stand close, one hand placed against the wooden door next to Eydis head, the other resting on his axe, "How come?" he asked, losing himself a little in her gleaming eyes, before she lowered her gaze at his question. 

Ubbe watched how she slowly stood up straighter, meeting his blue eyes with something akin to defiance, "I was curious," Eydis answered, "You appear to have a type I don't fit. I wondered what you would want with me." She admitted, one hand coming forth to play with the end of her braid at the front coyly as she looked away again.

His hand came up to carefully lift her chin, "I don't have a type," Ubbe said against her lips, "You caught my attention." He said, his voice dropping deeper. Wrapping his hand around her throat with light pressure, Ubbe could feel not only Eydis' pulse rising with a stumble to it, but also her long and golden earrings tickling his fingers with each soft swing, before he connected their mouths in a heated kiss. 

In the way her hands swiftly found his belt to undo it, Ubbe knew this wasn't her first time and smiled against her lips, before he started to undress Eydis as well. Rid of his tunic and her only hidden under the thin shift dress, he pressed her against the door- locking it to make sure no one would disturb them. When Ubbe stopped their kiss, he pulled Eydis against him, lifting her with ease to make their way to the bed. 

Eydis expected to be thrown onto the furs like some men had done before, but was surprised to be let down with care. Ubbe must've noticed her astonishment, because he smiled down at her wolfishly, his eyes dark with lust and twinkling like the night sky. He was leaning over her, whispering kisses onto the exposed skin of her neck and collarbone as he went down. Ubbe was pushing the shift dress up, his warm hands gliding over her legs and hips in a way her previous partners never had. 

He wasn't using her like they had, Ubbe made her feel wanted and she gasped when his palm stroked her wet heat hidden behind the undergarment Eydis wore. "What have you heard about me?" The Prince asked in a rough voice as he revealed the long planes of her dark skin, kissing her soft stomach up and helped her out of the shift dress with practiced hands. 

Once she was bare in front of him, Eydis couldn't help but revel in the hunger of his gaze before answering, "You can be a harsh lover, rough...leaving marks." Ubbe lifted a single brow at this and Eydis tried to ignore the times she had to listen to other women her age telling her the Prince would never pick her, for she does not look Viking enough. Those fools would eat their words now.  

Ubbe chuckled and leaned down on his elbow next to her to get closer to Eydis, "Only if you want me to," he responded, his free hand dancing over her skin, "I planned to be gentle with you." He admitted and Eydis almost got the impression that he did so shyly. 

She scoffed and took his hand, forcing him to cup her breast, "Don't treat me differently, I'm the same as everyone else." Eydis could feel his fingers spasm- indecisive if he should squeeze it or not. "I'm Viking!" She bit out with bared teeth and Ubbe could easily imagine her like a Valkyrie fighting in the shieldwall against their enemies, if only her parents would allow it.  

"I know you are," the Prince replied easily, lowering his head to kiss her shoulder, "But I can see you don't know much gentleness or care." His beard tickled Eydis arm as he spoke, his hand finally moving in a light squeeze that had her toes curl. "I strive for us to enjoy each other and not take from you whatever I want."

"Prince Ubbe," Eydis gasped again when he twisted her hardened nipple, "Please." She said, one hand wrapped around his braid- only resting there, not daring to pull and the other still covering his. Distracted by another tweak of her nipple, Eydis barely noticed how his thick and sleek braid slipped through her fingers as he went down, spreading her legs gently to settle there. 

A skilled move later and Eydis legs were thrown over Ubbe's shoulders. Placing a kiss to the soft flesh of her inner thigh he locked eyes with her, the hunger in his gaze causing her suck in a breath. He kept her attention as he kissed her lips down there, mouthing playfully at her folds before he tasted her wholly with the flat of his tongue. Eydis wasn't able to keep up their intense eye contact, her head falling back into the furs underneath as her mouth opened in a silent cry that soon turned into a moan. 

There was a slowness to his licks that made it hard for Eydis to decide if she was supposed to grip the surrounding furs or her breasts to further the heat pooling low in her belly. He took his time circling her nub with the tip of his tongue, lapping up her juices now and again to draw out more sounds that resembled love hymns filling the room. 

His hands had been at her hips, squeezing and stroking and moving up to play her like an instrument. The Prince was busy increasing the suction on her wound, the sounds he made indicating he was a starving man feasting with the Gods, gently rolling both her nipples between his thick fingers simultaneously. Ubbe was on his best way to push her over the edge- a feeling Eydis was only used to when playing with herself and yet it felt so much more powerful. "Ub-" she caught herself using his name without the prefix as she whined her release. "Apologi-" was as far as she came to word. 

Lapping at her wet heat, Ubbe watched Eydis unravel underneath his hands and mouth. He pulled carefully at her budding nipples as her legs shook next to his ears, thighs closing around his head even more when he flicked his tongue against the center of her arousal in earnest. Ubbe could feel her growing wetter against his beard, dripping down his chin and growled in delight at her taste when she came. 

Eydis legs were still quivering when Ubbe let her legs gently down and crawled up to her. He took in her appearance eagerly- the heaving chest, expanding with every breath she took and putting her firm breast on display for him, the light sheen of perspiration on her skin that indicated her exertion and left her glittering in the soft candle light as Eydis lay in the rich furs. Ubbe was certain she had to be a Goddess. 

Once he was at level with her, he caught her open mouth in a kiss- one breath, maybe two- and he leaned back again. Her dark eyes were hooded as Eydis looked at him, licking her lips and tasting herself. "In here, there is no need for titles. I'm just Ubbe." He told her and mirrored the slow smile appearing on her lips. 

"I understand," Eydis acknowledged and before she even spoke, he already knew what she was going to say by the way her expression turned impish, "Just Ubbe." It still made him laugh. 

It took her by surprise when he attacked her neck with kisses once again, his need for release so apparent against her leg, she felt pity he was still confined in his breeches. Ubbe must've had the same thought, because he worked on getting his pants off with one hand, holding himself up on the other. Eydis could feel the saliva gather in her mouth as his prick bopped free- thick and long, with a dark red head. 

There was a certain desperation now, once he was void of clothing, positioning between her legs and rubbing his cock through her wet folds as he kissed her chest up to her chin. He timed it well, kissing her senseless as he slid inside her heat in one careful thrust. There was still a hint of herself on his tongue that made her wonder if all women tasted the same. She would like to find out for herself one day…

His animalistic grunts urged her to hold onto his back, Eydis hands slid over his sweat-slick skin and came to a rest on his shoulders. The pace of Ubbe's thrusts steadily grew, the desperation for friction taking over and only when he sealed her lips with his again, did the Prince slow down his movements into a palatable rhythm. It still felt like war drums shaking through her. Her walls tightened around him every time his cockhead found just the right spot inside her and made her mewl into his mouth. 

The next time she looked at him, his expression seemed to ask This? You want this? as his thrusts grew harsher, hand wrapping easily around her neck again, hips slapping obscenely against her bottom and all she managed was a breathless nod in permission. It was as if she'd let a caged animal lose with her mere head movement, her orgasm crashing over her so fast Eydis hadn't even felt it built up in the first place, floating in the high of constant arousal ever since he started touching her. 

Oh, she got it now, all the swooning over him, even though those women he had would likely not get another chance. She merely noticed his hand moving towards her core and cried out when he started to put pressure onto her nub with his thumb- almost lazy compared to the thrusts. This time she could pinpoint when the ball of warmth within her got hotter until it exploded, leaving her a quivering mess underneath him who desperately held onto the wild men granting her pleasure. 

Eydis could tell he was close in the way his hips stuttered and scratched his back to get his attention, "No, don't p-plant your s-seed in me," she stuttered out and earned a displeased growl, his fingers tightening around her neck for a moment, but he followed her plea and slipped out of her, working his prick until his body went rigid. The white stripes of his seed painted her dark skin and Ubbe fell to the side next to her, taking deep lungfuls of air as he regarded Eydis with a contemplative look. She soon found out what he'd thought about when he kissed her again, a little messy and wet, but somehow endearing. 

What a strange man he was.

Ubbe had to fight against the tiredness and stood in order to get the bucket and a piece of fabric. It was like a ritual by now, washing the women he'd had who usually barely managed to walk right after. He stared at her sweaty face, ignoring the little furrow that had appeared between Eydis' brows. Ubbe was careful in his touch- it had nothing sexual anymore and sometimes he thought it had a lot to do with how he used to bathe his little brothers when Aslaug had one of her worse days. 

Eydis laughed a little at the absurdity of being washed by a Prince, especially when he took the time to clean the space between her fingers and slowly worked down her body. Wiping the cooling seed off of her in a practiced manner- rinse and repeat, the slick between her legs got cleaned and he worked down her body until the Prince reached her feet. The nightly breeze had her shaking a little and Ubbe was quick to rub her dry with a different cloth. "What is this about?" Eydis asked, but there was just a noncommittal grunt in response. 

She wrapped herself in the furs and watched Ubbe wash himself before he joined her. "We will not sleep here, only rest." Eydis nodded slowly in understanding, was fully prepared to close her eyes and sleep next to him. Apparently that was not part of his plan. 

"Why?" She asked and he pulled her close to share the warmth of his body. "This bed is as good as any other."

"I need to go back before the sun rises and don't want to leave you here alone," Ubbe explained, his fingers gently stroking her bare shoulder. "It is not safe here and your mother will be worried."

Eydis closed her eyes at that, listening to the steady beat of his heart. She was aware of her parents' worries, both declining her to join the shieldwall and wanting her to be married off to a man with vast lands and riches. They wanted only the best for her, whereas she just wanted to have what everyone did. 

"I've heard you speak to your mother in a different tongue," his rough voice sounded even deeper with her ear placed over his chest. "Can you speak to me like that too?"

"You would not understand…" she reasoned with a slight frown and felt him laugh in amusement.

Ubbe placed a kiss onto her scalp and pulled her even closer, "Then you'll tell me what you've said. Tell me an insult!" His half hearted demand caused Eydis to hide her face against his hairy chest. It took her a bit to think of something and she leaned away, rolling onto her back as she found the right words. He moved with her to hover over Eydis, his head pillowed on his arm and his eyes so very curious she couldn't deny him. 

And then she spoke in her mothers tongue and Ubbe watched how her lips formed the foreign sounds like she cast a spell, a sweet song luring him in. Eydis' eyes flitted over his face, seizing his reaction and returning the smile he granted her at last. "What did you say?" Ubbe asked, sounding so fascinated like a child hearing the Sagas for the first time. 

"That you are like a wolf," she answered, playing with his beard and then touching his lips to memorize his smile that was slowly tainted by a scoff.

"I'm not a wolf," Ubbe frowned, good natured amusement in his tone as he waited for the translation of the rest Eydis had said. His eyes widened a little in mocking, "I did not eat you."

Eydis giggled at the face he made and leaned up to steal a kiss from him, before she whispered, "You're howling at the moon every night- looking for prey, outside of Kattegat." She finished, searching his eyes. 

Something shifted in his expression, touching her nose with his for a second, "Wouldn't a wolf call out to another?" Ubbe wondered out loud, "You answered," He appeared to be entirely amused at how he was able to turn it around. The Prince leaned in and Eydis could feel his hot breath caress the shell of her ear, "And you're not prey."

His words lingered between them as they lay in peace, enjoying the feel of each other, so close and warm, until it was time to leave.

Dressed and somewhat able to walk again without her knees giving in, he brought her home. Eydis did not question how he knew where she lived in Kattegat, but was grateful for his company in the dark. He kissed her goodnight in a way that ignited another fire inside her and made her whine for more. 

There was an amused glint in his eyes, one she remembered his father sporting the one time he had seen him, "If I howl at the moon again, will you answer just the same?" The Prince asked, the back of his hand caressing her cheek in an almost loving touch. 

Eydis stood on her tiptoes, pulling Ubbe down at the front of his shirt for another kiss, "Do it and you'll find out." She whispered against his lips in her mothers tongue and then slipped inside her parents home, his laughter following her.  

With a happy sigh on his lips Ubbe looked up at the still dark sky and wondered how this woman had managed to become his main interest in a single night. He could see her becoming his wife, could see himself learning the foreign tongue together with their children. Ubbe wanted to be patient for her.

He shook his head to clear his mind as he entered the Longhouse and found his mother sleeping on the throne. Would Aslaug approve? Surely there could not be much she'd had against the daughter of a well off warrior. 

He would find out soon enough when he'd propose the idea to his mother, but first he carefully scooped her up, grunting at her dead weight as she continued to sleep in his arms and moved Aslaug to her bedchamber behind the veil. She mumbled his fathers name when Ubbe pulled the furs over her. 

This was her secret, blanketed under the night sky, how she missed her husband and Ubbe swore to himself to never hurt his loved ones like this.

-

so, this happened....o.o for more please drop an ask with 🔥 and a word. I kinda like Eydis, she might appear again.

[professorrw]

Hi! Okay so first of all I love your fics sm 🤧 and second, could i request a smut fic where reader is giving thor a massage or he's giving her one, and then things heat up ☻ and if you could add a bit of daddy kink in there, that would be awesome 🙈

Thank you so much 😭❤ I hope you like this 👀

marvel masterlist

Pairing: female reader x Thor

Warnings: smut, 18+, fluff, dad!Thor, daddy kink, pet names (baby girl, honey), rough sex, Thor with a man bun 😫

A/N: I've tried asking about this before with just a text post but no one ever answers 😅. When I reach 500 followers would you guys like to do a celebration where I let you send in prompts from prompt lists (I may even add a few of my own of songs, prompts, date ideas, and careers) and then let you send characters for Marvel and Stranger Things that I write for and do some drabbles, blurbs, headcanons, and oneshots? Let me know in the comments, with an ask, or in my messages! Requests open, taglist open, inbox open! Please like, comment, and reblog!

Parenting is no easy feat. It doesn’t matter if you’re a prince, or a king, or if you’ve conquered whole armies. Having a child and raising it is a job all on its own. But it’s something Thor loves. Being a father is something he didn’t know he wanted, but becoming one and taking care of something so pure, so precious, it just captivated him. You had a beautiful daughter together, Eydis. She was three, and full of energy.

Thor walked into your room, shifting his weight from foot to foot heavily, and fell back onto the monstrous bed. His head was right next to your crossed legs and you stroked the top of his hair until you were met by his man bun. The hairstyle was originally given to him by you. One day he was complaining about his hair getting in his face all the time so you did it up for him, and he had been attached ever since.

He heaved out a loud sigh before he turned over and snuggled his face against your leg.

“What is it?” you asked.

“I’m very worn out. Eydy insisted that I carry her everywhere she wanted to go.”

“... And you did?”

Thor was a sucker for his daughter. She was his little princess. Quite literally his little princess. Whatever she wanted she got. You were aware she was going to be spoiled, and you told Thor, but he said that he’ll tone it down when she’s older. You didn’t see that happening though.

“Of course. I carried her on my back and shoulders for almost four hours before she wanted to come back inside.”

A breath left your nose as you smiled and shook your head. “Do you need a massage?”

He flipped over, beaming at you. You took that as a yes and ushered him off your lap. The bed shifted and dipped from his weight being in front of you. You ran your hands down his athletic shirt, which was his go to when he wasn’t having an audience. Your thumbs kneaded at his shoulder and back muscles, giving them the much needed stress relief they needed. He closed his eyes, fully taken by the release of tension.

“Being- ah- a father is hard,” Thor said.

“You’re a great daddy though.”

“Honey…” he trailed off in a warning tone. You giggled, remembering that he asked you not to call him daddy during the day time. When you called him daddy, which you had first called him while you were pregnant, turned him on. He didn’t know why, it just did. And at night when he was tearing into you and that word came out of your mouth it would set him ablaze.

That day though, as your hands were already on him and he was already in bed with you, you just couldn’t resist. You leaned in closer, whispering into his ear, “Daddy…”

“Y/N,” he warned again. One more time and that would be it. You could turn back… but did you want to?

No.

“Daddy,” you whispered one more time. His jaw clenched and he turned around in the blink of an eye. You were completely pinned to the bed. His hands were holding your wrists at the side of your head and his cock was pressing against your thigh.

“You asked for this,” he spoke with lust blown eyes. Wetness grew and pooled in your underwear, all thanks to your husband. The pressure holding down your wrists disappeared, instead moving to your midsection. He untied your robe and flung it open, showcasing your matching bra and panties.

You bucked your hips up, making sure that your vagina was pressing against his crotch. He groaned and squeezed his eyes shut for a second before they opened again with an intensity unparalleled by anything else.

He sat back on his knees, straddling your lap while you laid there. He didn’t speak, just reached behind you and unclasped your bra and then pulled down your panties. He saw the wetness and held them up, chuckling.

“Darling, you’re already soaking wet. All for your daddy,” he taunted. He threw his shirt off, because he would never miss a chance to show off his impeccable abs, and took his shorts and boxers off too, unsheathing his thick member. It stood tall against his abdomen, something he was extremely proud of.

Unable to wait a minute longer he plunged into you. A strangled moan burst out of your mouth but the pain eased and became pleasant after a few moments of stillness. He started to move, going fast right off the bat. Even though he was thrusting in and out of you at the speed of light he would be able to last a good amount of time. He usually spared you that amount of aching, but he had gone multiple rounds with you before. It was a loud night, filled with many orgasms, positions, and locations.

Thor was above you, fully above you, and ramming into your pussy with inhumane speed and vigor. He was only a little winded and out of breath. Only a teensy weensy bit. Not everything was so perfect though. His hair was falling out of his bun, framing his face in a blonde, messy curtain.

You weren’t going to last long. It was a given fact. The butterflies and thumping of your pussy were already there before he even started. You really weren’t going to last long when he hit your g-spot.

“Ahh Thor!” you moaned.

“Uh uh,” he scolded, “you have to call me daddy since you love to say it so much.”

“Daddy!” you moaned as he hit your g-spot again.

“That’s it baby girl.”

He kept on going, never stalling his ruthless pace. Your orgasm was on the tip of your tongue and you were moments away from reaching it. Thor could tell you were about to cum. You had sex countless times and the tell-tale signs were there. Your moans were louder, your hands were clenched, and your back was arched.

The white liquid squirted out, and was followed not long after by Thor’s deep groan and his own cum spilling inside you. He pulled out and used his abandoned shirt to wipe up the mess. You laid next to Thor with your hand on your forehead. He was lying on his side, smiling at you, just slightly out of breath. He was about to kiss your cheek when there was a knock on the door.

“Dad! Come play with me!” Eydis shouted.

Thor sighed but got up with a smile still on his face. “I’m coming!”

[waiting4inspiration]

A Queen behind a King IV (Ivar x Reader)

Summary: Months after Eydis found you and took you in, your prophecy has come true. But happy moments don’t last and your joy ends when Ivar arrives in Fjoll. 

Warnings: angst, mentions of abuse, mentions of banishment, pregnancy, strong language, jealousy, small fluff, if I missed something please tell me

Word Count: 3,310

A Queen behind a King Masterlist II Vikings Masterlist

The seer was right. 

You know you shouldn’t be surprised at that, but you are. The seer was right about your prophecy and about Eydis’s prophecy. You must be surprised at how quickly it all happened. Because months after settling into Fjoll, you married Eydis and became his queen. 

Though, Kattegat is still on your mind, you know it will always be because it was your home once. You cared deeply for her people, and you still do. You can only imagine how much they must be suffering without you. 

Those thoughts are quickly forgotten as you watch your new husband playing with the young boy on his lap, the son of a merchant family you have taken in after they lost everything in a storm. You and Eydis keep the little boy occupied as the mother and father build a new house, having told you that they have decided to stay in Fjoll because of the many opportunities the city has to offer. 

Eydis and the boy are getting on well. The way the boy laughs makes a smile grow on your face and your heart to swell in warmth. It only makes you excited to see him with his own son one day. 

The happy moment doesn’t last and all good things come to an end. 

First, Eydis turns his head to the road leading to the gates of the city. And when he tenses in his seat and places the boy on his feet on the ground, whispering in his ear to go find his parents, that when you turn your head as well. 

You never thought you’d see that chariot again, or that you would see Ivar riding in it again. But, there he is, riding closer to the Hall, Hvitserk, and Ubbe by his side, as well as a small army traveling behind him. It’s the army that concerns Eydis. And that fact that he married you, Ivar’s ex-wife, well, it can’t mean anything good, can it?

Eydis stands to his feet as you push yourself out of your seat and you catch his hand resting on the hilt of his sword moving to wrap around it. “(Y/n), go inside,” he gently says, keeping his eyes on Ivar who glances around at the gathering family members of merchants or merchants themselves. 

“No,” you whisper, stepping towards him as you keep your head up high. 

Turning his head towards you, he gives you an almost pleading look. “It is not a request,” he states. He turns to you and places his hand on your cheek, presses his forehead against yours as you breathe out a sigh. “I must know his intentions before introducing you as my wife.”

You know he’s doing this to protect you. He has every right to want to protect you. And though you don’t like running and hiding, you know that this is for the better. 

You nod your head, making him smile and press a kiss to your lips. It’s a short kiss, but it’s enough for you to know that he’s telling you he loves you. 

When he pulls away from you, he turns back to face Ivar and allows you to walk away. Hearing the door closing, Eydis feels more confident knowing that you’ll be safe. Ivar turns his gaze to him as he stops the chariot at the steps of the Hall. 

Eydis descends from the steps to meet Ivar on level ground. “King Ivar. It’s a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance,” he speaks, intending to sound bitter because he knows that Ivar can’t harm him. Not in his own city surrounded by his own people without starting a war. 

Ivar catches his tone and glares at him as he steps off the chariot. All he does is hum and turn to look at his brothers who have dismounted their own horses and now stand behind him. “We were supposed to meet to discuss terms of an alliance-”

“But your wife saw to that,” Eydis cuts him off, his hand tightening around his sword as Ivar’s jaw tenses and he narrows his eyes at him 

“She is not my wife anymore. She was banished for trying to usurp me and now probably lies dead in a ditch.” That’s enough for Eydis to know that Ivar’s not here for you. And even though those words about you infuriate him, he has to keep his composure. 

Pulling his hand away from his sword seems to relax Ivar and his brothers behind him. “Then what do I own this meeting?” Eydis questions as he shifts on his feet.

Ivar smiles and glances back to his brothers, almost with an ‘I-told-you-so’ look on his face before he looks back at Eydis. “I’ve come to request your aid to revive my kingdom,” he mentions, but shows nothing such as guilt or sadness for his dying kingdom. 

From what Eydis understands, the only thing that kept Kattegat alive was you. Now that you are gone, what’s left from stopping Ivar from using the provisions that are supposed to be used to feed the civil families instead of his army? After the attempted invasion of merchants, what’s stopping Ivar from cutting off all trade? 

Nothing. 

Eydis remembers how passionately you speak of Kattegat, how you have said you would like to go back there one day, but it can only be a dream. Perhaps he can make your dream come true. And the seer told you that you would rule great kingdoms. Fjoll is not yet great. If yours and your husband’s rule were to spread to Kattegat, then it would start to become a great kingdom. 

Smiling at that thought, he nods his head to Ivar and steps to the side as he holds out a hand to invite the King of Kattegat into his Great Hall. “We can discuss it over a meal,” Eydis says, walking up the stairs with Ivar.

“Perhaps then we can meet your new wife,” Hvitserk mentions, him and Ubbe joining the two kings as they make their way to the door. “We have heard she is quite something.”

Eydis chuckles and drops his gaze to the ground, thinking how they would feel when they do find out he married you, Ivar’s previous wife. “I shall ask her if she is up to receiving guests in her condition,” he states, making Ivar turn his head towards him and frown in confusion. 

“Her condition?” Ivar asks as they reach the door of the Great hall. 

“My wife is with child,” Eydis states, looking up at Ivar again with a proud smile on his face. 

And Eydis knows that Ivar wouldn’t have let that fact go so quickly had he known in that moment the truth. 

Just because Ivar’s in the city doesn’t mean that you can forget about your duties. It just means that you’ve come to appreciate your husband even more because it reminds you that your efforts in making people’s lives easier - as a queen should - don’t go unnoticed by the king. 

At the end of the day, you don’t listen to Eydis’s turmoils in silence as you had to do with Ivar. Instead, your husband allows you to speak first, to tell him of the families you helped, how you’ve come to know them well and the appreciation they show you when you help them. He lets you talk freely. 

And when you’re done, he tells you how proud he is of you and how happy he is that you are fitting in so well with his people. Then he will speak, and he will allow you to comfort him if anything is bad news. 

Sometimes, he will talk first. But he will not turn in for the night until you have spoken. 

He makes you feel like your efforts in the city are appreciated. That your job as queen is appreciated. 

Sometimes, you two won’t even talk about the day. Like the night you told him you’re pregnant. The rest of the day’s occurrence seemed irrelevant and you two just celebrated in the fact that you are carrying a child. 

And being pregnant only sparks inspiration to carry on with your duties. Even if your ex-husband is in the city. 

Today, you just wish to be among your people, listen to someone who needs a moment of your time to ask for help or for anything else. You walk around, making those that have arrived in Fjoll this morning or yesterday feel at home. You want them to see Fjoll as their home away from home, not as just some trading stop on the way home or on the way to their destination. 

And your smile makes many around you smile in return. 

Ivar walks through the city too, to try and find what it is that made Fjoll surpass Kattegat as the ‘Greatest Trading Post in all of Norway’. He doesn’t see much. Just a few merchants as their family, trading shops thriving with produce, and people who are happy to be here. And you. 

He does a double-take when he sees you. And with the smile on your face, he understands now why everyone he’s seen so far also smiles. 

He watches as you hand a basket of food to a couple who are building a new house, the woman taking it in gratitude. And bows her head at you. 

It’s not possible. 

You turn away from the couple and begin to head to the Great Hall. That’s when he moves forward. 

It all makes sense now. He remembers how Kattegat seemed to be when you were Queen. And by the way these people seem to be showering respect towards you as you walk past them…

But that only means that… 

He follows you into the Great Hall, knowing that what he wishes to say to you cannot be said in public. And as he passes the doors, he slams it shut behind him to get your attention, only thankful that the Hall is empty. 

You jump around with a loud gasp. And the hand on your round stomach confirms all of his suspicions. 

Ivar stares at your belly in distaste, something inside him telling him what it would be like for that to be his child. But he knows it is not his. He lost the chance to have a child with you when he banished you, and action he regrets every day and that has led him to ask for help from a wealthier kingdom so that he people can survive.

“You seem to have a way of worming your way into high places, (Y/n),” he hisses, walking closer to you with venom in his eyes. 

“Eydis found me after you banished me and took me in out of the kindness of his heart. An action you know nothing about,” you snap back at him. 

Your quick, sharp tongue surprises him as he comes to stand in front of you. And he laughs darkly. “And then what happened? You fucked him so that he would marry you and make you his queen?” he questions, tilting his head to the side as a sly smirk grows on his face. “You can’t stand being without power, can you?”

You take a step away from him and shake your head. “I like being queen because I like helping those in need, Ivar. Not because of the power that comes with it. I didn’t have to fuck anyone to get where I am now. Marrying Eydis was his choice as much as it was mine and it was done in love,” you state, dropping your hand away from the top of your stomach to encircle your pregnant belly with your arms. “And I will not stand to be insulted by anyone, especially you,” you sneer, making him raise an entertained eyebrow. 

“This child of yours has given you some backbone, I see,” he chuckles, stepping closer to you and you try to take another step back. But his hand swiftly pulls out his ax and he presses the blade against your throat. “I should have killed you instead of banished you.”

“And you will be lucky if I do not kill you for threatening my wife and my unborn child.” You breathe a small sigh of relief to hear Eydis’s voice. 

Both you and Ivar turn your gaze to the side to find Eydis standing across the room, ax in his hand, and a murderous glare on Ivar. He nods for you to join his side as you step away from Ivar, and you’re quick to walk across the room to stand by his side. “I shall help you restore Kattegat to its original glory. But I will not have you insult and threaten my wife. And it seems that your presence here does just that, so I think you should leave,” he sternly states as he wraps his arm around your waist. “Your brothers are somewhere in the market, last I saw of them,” he mentions as he turns you around and walks away from Ivar. 

“What are you doing?” you question, not understanding why he’s not wanting to discuss whatever help he has decided to aid Ivar in. 

He leans down to your ear as his hand rests on the side of your belly. “Just keep walking. I’ll explain when we get to the room,” he whispers, making you nod as you do as he says. And you keep walking. 

As you walk, you think about what Eydis said to Ivar. Restore Kattegat to its original glory? What has become of Kattegat that it needs to be restored? Has Ivar gone too far with his wars and now the city is in ruins? Has he neglected his people so much that they are dying of sickness?

You’re certain Eydis will tell you what is going on. 

As he closes the door behind him when you get to your room, you turn to face him and wait for him to speak. He wipes his hand over his face, sighs and steps to you. But he doesn’t speak. Not yet. 

Dropping to his knees in front of you, he rests his hands on either side of your belly, making you laugh as he kisses the swelling bulge. “Are you going to tell me what’s going on now, husband?” you question, weaving your fingers through his hair as he hums.

Eydis turns his gaze up to you, rests his chin against your stomach and gives you a big smile. “I’m going to take Kattegat from Ivar.”

His words make the smile on your face drop. “Take Kattegat?”

“He is desperate for help, says he can feel his ruling slipping through his fingers and that he feels another uprising is on the horizon,” he speaks, standing to his feet and walking across the room as he undoes the belt holding his sword and ax. “I have never seen a man so desperate for help. Which is why I know he won’t suspect us to double-cross him.”

That’s another thing you’ve learned to be different with Eydis. It was always ‘us’. You two were in everything together. Never alone. Never, self-standing. With Ivar, it had always been ‘me’ and ‘I’. He was alone. And when he was alone, so were you. 

You shake your head, frowning in confusion, and you turn to follow him across the room. “Why do you want to take Kattegat?” you ask, making him turn his head over his shoulder to smile at you. 

“Because you told me the seer said you would rule great kingdoms. Fjoll is not great. Not until we take Kattegat,” he states, sitting on the edge of the bed as you carry on walking closer to him. “A great kingdom is what you deserve, my love.” He pulls you closer to straddle his lap, his hands coming to rest on your belly as you wrap your arms around his next. “A kingdom that stretches across all of Norway.”

Chuckling at his words, you glance down to watch his hands caress your stomach that holds his child. “A great kingdom, is what we deserve,” you whisper, looking back up to him as he breathes out a laugh. “Do not make the same mistake I made with Ivar, Eydis, my love. Do not underestimate him. I could not bear losing you to the Gods so soon,” you state, leaning forward to press your forehead against his.

He sighs, rests his hands on your hips. “At least I have someone on my side that knows a bit about him,” he mentions, making you chuckle and he dips his head to kiss you. “But I won’t attack until our son is born,” he mutters against your lips, making your smile grow as he pulls you closer until your belly presses against him. 

Ivar doesn’t stop walking until he gets to his chambers upon returning to Kattegat. He hasn’t spoken a word since leaving Fjoll, and Hvitserk and Ubbe know better than to coax him out of his bad mood. 

In his chambers, he runs his hand over his face and breathes out a long sigh. You always told him he needed to do this to control his anger, but thinking about that now only adds fuel to the fire of rage inside him. 

And he snaps. 

Swiping his arm across the table, ridding it of the cups, jug, and plates, he lets out an irritated shout before pushing a chair down to the ground. 

Ubbe and Hvitserk storm in at the noise, glancing around with wide eyes and checking to see if their brother is hurt. But they can see he is furious just by the color of his eyes. They are bluer than blue. 

“What happened?”

“She married again. She is now queen of that city. The king I asked help for is her husband so now she knows what I have done or what I haven’t done,” Ivar shouts his answer at Ubbe, glaring at him with dark, almost murderous eyes. “She’s carrying his child. She should be dead, not getting everything she wanted!”

“Who are you talking about, Ivar?” Hvitserk questions, shaking his head in confusion as he frowns at his youngest brother. 

“(Y/n)!” Ivar slams his hand on the table, stares down at it and breathes heavily. “No wonder Fjoll is thriving. Because she is there.”

Ubbe and Hvitserk look at each other for a second before looking back at Ivar. Ubbe steps forward, causing Ivar’s head to snap up at him and give him a cold glare. “So, (Y/n) married Eydis and carries his child. There is nothing you can do about that, Ivar,” he states, holding his hands up to try and calm him. 

Ivar laughs and shakes his head as he glances to the side. To the bed he used to share with you. “I can do more than just sit back and not do anything, Ubbe.”

“What are you going to do? She is not your wife anymore,” Hvitserk mentions, making Ivar’s glare turn towards him. 

“I want her back,” Ivar sternly says, clenching his hand in a fist and presses it against the table. 

“You only want her back because she took care of your people and now you don’t know who to do that which is why they are dying in the streets,” Ubbe sneers. And Ivar’s glare turns back to him. 

A wicked smile grows on Ivar’s face as he tilts his head to the side. “I banished my wife, Ubbe. What makes you think being my brother will stop me from doing the same to you, huh?”

That question makes Ubbe take a step back and look at Hvitserk. Then he turns and walks out of the room, muttering to himself and shaking his head. Ivar rolls his eyes and turns around to face away from Hvitserk.

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[oldshowbiz]

Everyone on this episode of Tattletales is wishing Eydie Gorme would just shut the fuck up already.

[the-weeping-monk]

visions are seldom all they seem (but i know you)

Chapter 4

prev-next/find on ao3

“We have to go to her,” Merlin said, determined.

Morgana merely shook her head. She had just been explaining how Nimue was still alive and had not even finished before Merlin was up and ready to leave. She could feel the anticipation radiating off of him, could see the overwhelming relief in his eyes. But this was something he had to do without her.

“You will go alone,” Morgana said, albeit regretfully. “The dead are calling me. I have avoided them for too long.”

It was true. Ever since she had taken the Widow’s life, the dead had been summoning her, reaching out for her guidance. It had been manageable, at first, but was now so persistent that she could hardly form a coherent thought without being bombarded by the need to do her job.

Her job. She held back an agonized sob. She would never be free to live her own life or make her own choices again.

There is always a choice, a voice in the back of her mind whispered. You chose to kill the Widow.

Morgana hated to admit it, but that tiny seedling of darkness in her mind was right: this was entirely her fault and she was going to have to live with that.

Merlin nodded, once. If anyone could understand what she was going through besides the other Daughters of Death, it would be him—he had been friends with one, after all. The one Morgana had killed.

She took in an unsteady breath.

“Morgana,” he started, his eyes sad, “you don’t have to do this alone. Let me help you.”

That gave Morgana pause. It was not what she had expected, but it was exactly what she wanted to hear—someone was willing to take her side, guide her through this new life. But then an image of her slicing the Sword of Power through the Widow flashed in front of her eyes, and she was left feeling ashamed for even considering the magician’s proposition. Morgana could not accept Merlin’s help; this was her burden to bear, not his.

The voices in her head grew louder, more demanding. Morgana made herself turn away.

“I’m fine. You do not need to worry about me,” she said.

There was shuffling behind her. She could feel Merlin moving to look out the window. “I do worry about you, though. This burden—”

“Is mine to bear,” Morgana interrupted. “This is who I am now.”

We can’t run from our true nature. Those were the words Morgana had said to Nimue what seemed like a lifetime ago.

Maybe this was what Morgana truly was, what she was always meant to be. And if it was, then she had to stomach this curse alone.

“I need to stop running from this.”

Merlin spoke again, and this time his voice was closer. “Let me help you, young one.”

Morgana squeezed her eyes shut against the torrent of whispering, begging, berating of the dying. She put her hands on either side of her head as if she could physically restrain the voices screaming at her to help them.

“Morgana, just let me ease this pain. Let me help in any way I can.”

She whirled. “I have to do this alone, Merlin. No one can do it for me. I alone made this choice so I alone must dig my grave.”

The irony wasn’t lost on either of them. Morgana would never have a grave, she would never have a mortal death. One stupid mistake had cost her everything.

“Cailleach got in your head. She was the one who made you kill the Widow.” Merlin put a hand on her shoulder. When had he gotten so close? “Stop blaming yourself for something you couldn’t control.”

She turned to him. “But that’s the thing—I wanted to kill her. I was angry and I wanted someone to hurt as I was hurting. I punished her for my pain.”

Merlin didn’t have anything to say to that.

Morgana knew that Merlin had his own daughter, his own life. She couldn’t make it more complicated than it already was, despite everything in her that ached for someone to care for her.

She and Arthur had lost their father when they were young. Arthur would say that it had affected him the most, but he had only lost his father—Morgana had lost her entire life. The church had taken her in, but it wasn’t what she had wanted. She had wanted her dad, had wanted someone to care about her, and tell her everything would be okay.

Arthur had lost his father, but he still had his freedom. He had the opportunity to find someone who could care about him. He could make his own decisions.

Morgana felt like a child again. Her life was no longer her own, and just like before, she was forced to serve a higher purpose. No one cared about her then, and it was too dangerous for anyone to care about her now.

Reluctantly, Morgana shrugged off Merlin’s hand. “I need to leave and you need to find your daughter.”

“Morgana—”

But Morgana would not listen. If she let Merlin talk her into opening up, into letting him into her life . . . it wouldn’t be fair to him or Nimue.

“Good luck, Merlin,” she interrupted, before disappearing into thin air.

. . .

The voices dragged Morgana all across the kingdom, but the most notable place she traveled to was King Cumber’s encampment.

She had appeared in the medical wing—a series of white tents that reeked of death, a scent she had gotten used to throughout the day. Inside one of the tents, there were rows and rows of sick beds.

Morgana stopped at the foot of a dying man’s cot. It was the last cot in the row, separated from the rest by a single sheet. The sheets were coarse and dotted with holes and patches of blood. She made herself look at the body under those sheets, made herself take note of the deep gash in his side that seemed to be infected. His eyelids fluttered with each stilted, shallow breath he took. His braided hair was matted with blood and there were cuts and bruises covering his face.

He must have been in a battle of some sort, Morgana deduced idly, though she hadn’t heard of any fight recently. She wanted to inquire about what had happened but decided against it. It would be cruel to ask the man and then take his life.

Burying her curiosity, Morgana leaned closer to the man and searched for his Cord.

Through Merlin, she had learned that each soul had a tether to the earth, called a Cord. Each Cord that she took fueled her, made her stronger.

It is to restore the natural order of things, he had reasoned. The Daughters aren’t power-hungry; they just serve to balance the world.

But Morgana had shaken her head, had moaned, I don’t want this, I don’t want this, over and over again. Merlin had taken her into his arms and had held her as she cried.

I know, he had murmured, comforting her as best he could. I know.

Blinking past the memory, Morgana found the dying man’s Cord and claimed it for herself. When she pulled on the tether, the results were almost instantaneous. There was a rush of power, unlike anything she had experienced while she had been mortal. It was overwhelming. She wanted more. Her blood sang with the feeling—and then ran cold when she remembered what she had done. What she had been doing for the entire day.

A final sigh left the man’s lips and his body relaxed.

Morgana had cried the first time she had taken a life. She did not cry now. That numb feeling overtook her, and she just . . . stared at the body before her, not really seeing it. The power she had stolen from him ran through her veins, intoxicating her.

In the back of her mind, Morgana knew that what she was doing was wrong, but it was so hard to think of anything else besides the power she felt after she absorbed someone’s Cord.

What was she becoming?

At the end of the hall, the tent flap opened to reveal a burly man with a metal plate attached to his right temple. King Cumber. A woman—Lady Eydis, Morgana assumed—and a soldier followed Cumber into the tent, heading right for Morgana.

But they passed right by her, as if she was not there at all, and stopped at the dead man’s cot.

“You should have told me he was dying,” grumbled Cumber.

The soldier grimaced. “I did, my lord.”

“He’s not dying—he’s dead.” The woman’s nose turned up at the sight. “You didn’t say he was dead.”

The soldier's eyes widened and he froze. “No,” he breathed. He looked like he wanted to move toward his dead comrade but held back at the last moment. His gaze shot to Cumber. “My lord, I swear to you he was alive only moments ago.”

“Who is to verify your story now?” Cumber lamented.

“You must believe me,” the soldier said. “The Fey are still out there, on the beach. We can send soldiers in and finish what we started.”

Eydis stepped toward Cumber, her mouth in a firm line. “Father, we must trust him. If the Fey remain here, then they are a threat to you. The only reason they would stay would be to put Nimue on the throne.”

Cumber’s brows furrowed. “I was under the impression that Uther took her prisoner.”

“He did,” she asserted, “but she escaped. We don’t know where she went, but we have to assume that she found the Fey.”

“Sir?” the soldier spoke up, nervous. When Cumber only raised a brow, he continued. “You should also know that the Red Spear and her raiders aided the Fey in their efforts.”

Anger erupted across Cumber’s face. “How dare she interfere with my plans. She knows how much this means to me. To us.” He paused, expression darkening as he turned to his daughter. “Your sister needs to be put in her place.”

“She is not my sister. Not anymore,” Eydis said with finality. “And if she is working with the Fey, that also makes her traitor.”

Toying with his beard, Cumber murmured, “She must be plotting against me.” He glanced up at Eydis. “We must get that sword before she does.”  

“My thoughts exactly,” Eydis said.

“My lord?” the soldier asked. “Should I have the troops deploy to the beach?”

Morgana held her breath, though she knew they wouldn’t be able to hear her even if she screamed.

After a moment of contemplation, Cumber said, “Yes. Send them out and get me that sword.”

No. If the soldier was telling the truth and the Fey were still at the beach, then Morgana had to warn them. And fast.

. . .

Most of the next day consisted of strategizing in the newly-declared war room—a small, hollowed-out crevice in the caverns big enough for a dozen people to convene. Empty crates brought in by the Red Spear’s crew were pushed together to serve as a table. Those that comprised the tight-knit circle of leaders huddled over the maps strewn across the crates.

Voices shouted over each other, echoing off of the walls of the crowded space. No one could agree on anything, let alone listen to anyone besides themselves. Arthur hadn’t had a chance to get a word in since they had begun the meeting.

Six raiders including the Red Spear, and five Fey, with the addition of Arthur, were included in the assembly; Arthur and the Red Spear had thought that it would be advantageous if they showed solidarity between the raiders and the Fey. Emphasis on had.

“We must attack now!” a raider shouted.

“Only if we want to be slaughtered,” contradicted a Fey woman with branches in her hair. “We’re not ready—there are not enough of us to take on two armies at once.”

Another raider slammed her open palms on the table. “Uther won’t attack us if we attack Cumber.”

“No, he will wait to eradicate us until after we’ve dealt with Cumber. That way, he’ll be able to kill two birds with one stone,” a Fey man argued.

Arthur shot the Red Spear a glance over the din. She looked as tired as he felt. They had been at this for hours now, but the exact same ideas were rehashed again and again.

“This isn’t helping,” Kaze muttered at his side.

Arthur looked to the Fey warrior with tired eyes. “I don’t know what to do.”

He watched as the Red Spear sighed. Her brow creased and she pinched the bridge of her nose between two fingers. She opened her mouth to speak, but before she could, Pym burst into the room, panting.

“Pym?” Arthur raised his eyebrows. Silence descended around the cave, and he was suddenly grateful for the intervention. “What’s wrong?”

Pym shook her head and bent over, hands on her knees. She held up one finger. “Give me a second,” she huffed.

“Pym—” started the Red Spear, no doubt incensed at the interruption.

“It’s Morgana,” Pym breathed. “She’s here.”

Arthur froze, along with the rest of the gathered strategizers. He had been so caught up with saving the Fey and planning to defeat Cumber that he had forgotten his sister.

Guilt seized his heart.

The Red Spear was the first to regain her senses. “Who’s Morgana?”

Arthur was already moving toward the door, but he looked back over his shoulder to address her when he said, “She’s my sister.”

Pym bit her lip and wrung her hands together. “Arthur, there’s something you need to know.”

His brow furrowed. “Can it wait? I want to make sure Morgana is alright.”

“Yep, yeah, that's what I need to talk to you about.” Pym glanced over his shoulder at the gathered crowd. “Maybe you should just see for yourself.”

That didn’t sound good.

“Okay?” Arthur said, but it came out as a question. He met the Red Spear’s eyes. “Can you handle this?”

The Red Spear gave him a look that said “did we handle it before?” but nodded nonetheless. “Go to her.”

Arthur gave her a grateful nod and followed Pym out of the caverns.

The sun was already descending toward the horizon, painting the waves of the ocean with fire. A few raiders and Fey hung around the beach, but for the most part, it was empty and allowed for Arthur to zero in on a figure in all black.

When Pym saw him staring, she said, “That’s her. She’s . . . changed.”

Arthur didn’t comment, just continued forward. He didn’t want to think of the implications of Pym’s words until absolutely necessary. When they were only a few strides away from Morgana, the woman in question turned to face them.

A black veil covered her features, one she quickly threw back over her head. On the surface, nothing about her—save her dark garb—seemed different. That was, until Arthur saw her eyes.

They held a depthless well of sorrow and pain, and antiquity to them that hadn’t been there before. Grief was etched in the downward curve of her mouth, in the crease of her brow. Where there had been a fiery spirit, there was only devastation.

She’s . . . changed.  

“Arthur,” Morgana said, halting his observations.

“Morgana, what happened—”

She didn’t let him finish. “There’s no time. Cumber is sending an army here as we speak; you need to prepare.”

The abrupt news took his breath away and it was only by sheer luck that his heart didn’t stop right then and there.

“No,” he breathed.

They were nowhere near ready for another attack. There were more wounded Fey than those that could fight, and even though there were plenty of raiders who were itching for another battle, Arthur knew their numbers were too few to take on an army.

Arthur shared a worried glance with Pym, whose eyes were wide open in fear. She knew as well as he that if they stayed, it would be a bloodbath and that this time, they would not be the victors.

His eyes snapped to Morgana’s own. “How much time do we have?”

Morgana grimaced. “A couple of hours at most. It should give you enough time to escape.”

Arthur shook his head. He didn’t understand. “Why would they send another army? We killed all of the soldiers who were sent here.”

“Not all of them,” murmured Morgana, regret tinging her voice. “There were two that escaped. Cumber thinks that Nimue and the Red Spear plan to dethrone him.” She placed both hands on Arthur’s shoulders and squeezed. “But none of that matters right now—you need to warn the others.”

Arthur paused. “How could Nimue dethrone him? Doesn’t he know of the bargain she made?”

Morgana pursed her lips, almost as if she was reluctant to tell him. “She escaped, and she’s heading here now.”

Relief flooded through his system in a tidal wave. Nimue was alive; she had escaped Uther and she was alive. She was heading toward the beach and Arthur was going to see her soon and they could be together—

“How do you know this?”

Her expression shuttered. “There’s no time.” Arthur opened his mouth to object, to demand answers, and she amended, “Later, I promise.”

“How am I going to explain this to them if you don’t give me something to work with?”

“Now is not the time, Arthur. You just have to trust me.”

Arthur sighed in defeat. “Fine. But—”

“I promise you I’ll explain everything after you save the Fey.” Her eyes implored him to drop the subject. “Please.”

It wasn’t what he wanted to hear, but they were already pressed for time as it was. “Alright.” Arthur nodded. He started back toward the caves with Pym in tow, heart in his throat.

How was he going to explain this to the Red Spear and the rest of their makeshift council? Oh, hey, by the way, my sister just appeared out of the blue and said that Cumber is going to attack us. Please don’t freak out.  

When he realized that Morgana wasn’t following him, he stopped and turned back to her. “Won’t you help us?”

Morgana shook her head slightly. “They need your leadership, Arthur. If I was there, it wouldn’t change anything. They need you.”

Arthur couldn’t help the swell of pride inside his chest. Even after everything, his sister still believed in him.

“Besides, there’s something I must do first,” she answered. And then, to Arthur’s bewilderment, she disappeared into thin air.

He whipped to face Pym, who didn’t look nearly as shocked as he felt was appropriate. “What was that?”

“I told you that she changed.”

“I—” Arthur started, then decided that there were more pressing matters than his sister’s newfound abilities. “Nevermind.”

They made their way back into the hollowed-out crevice of the meeting room in silence, both too nervous to say much.

They returned to find the makeshift council much the same as they had left it. Everyone was arguing, back and forth, back and forth over nonsense that didn’t even matter in the light of Morgana’s new information. Maybe bringing this up with the group first was a bad idea—maybe they should go to the Red Spear before opening this up to a dozen differing opinions.

But before Arthur could give voice to his concerns, Pym was already talking.

“Everyone quiet!” she shouted over the din. All at once, every voice in the room ceased in order to listen—which Arthur would admit was an admirable quality had he not been trying to signal to Pym to stop talking. Pym continued, oblivious to his silent pleas. “King Cumber is sending more soldiers here to attack us. We only have a couple of hours.”

Chaos erupted. The raiders stood up so fast from their seats that the crates they used as chairs were knocked over; the Fey were already trying to dominate the debate on how they should move forward. Across the room, the Red Spear’s face was ashen.

Arthur was about to go to her, but she was already moving toward him. When she reached him, the Red Spear shoved him out of the hollow and into the larger part of the cave. Her eyes were wide in apprehension and a little bit of anger, and Arthur rushed to explain for fear that that anger was directed at him.

“I can explain,” he whispered. There was no one within hearing-distance, but Arthur still kept his voice down in case of his words echoing.

The Red Spear narrowed her eyes and matched his tone, though with much more hostility. “Well, I would hope so, considering you just announced to a group of nonfunctional military personnel that we’re going to be attacked by my father in a few short hours.”

Arthur’s mouth was dry as he floundered for words. The Red Spear’s eyebrows rose as she prompted, “Well?”

“Well, Morgana didn’t say much except that a few soldiers escaped from our skirmish and reported back to Cumber. That’s why they’re attacking.” He paused, waiting for the Red Spear’s reaction. When she didn’t speak, just stared, waiting for him to continue, Arthur said, “We have to run. We can’t fight our way out of this.”

“I’m not running. Not again,” she said, her tone icy.

“We don’t have a choice this time. We’re not in any fighting shape.”

The Red Spear closed her eyes. “I can’t admit defeat. He already sees me as weak.”

Arthur didn’t ask who she was referring to, but instead reasoned, “It’s not just you that you have to worry about. Both the raiders and the Fey are counting on you.”

It was a moment before the Red Spear sighed in defeat. She glanced up and met Arthur’s eyes before giving a single nod. “You’re right. We have to run.”

“And I have to stay behind.”

“What?” she snapped. “What do you mean you’re staying behind? What did you mean before when you said that ‘we can’t fight our way out of this’? Are you trying to be a martyr, Arthur, is that what you’re doing?”

Arthur could only blink at her rant. “No, Red, I . . . Nimue is alive, and she’s coming here. If we’re all gone, then she’ll think that we left on those ships.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’m so close to seeing her again. I have to be there for her.”

The Red Spear could only blink. Finally, she said, “Okay. Fine. But we’re not sending anyone back to check on you, you understand? You’ll have to find your way to us on your own.”

Arthur nodded, solemn, and released a breath. “What should we tell them?”

The Red Spear rolled her shoulders back and said, “Tell them to prepare their belongings. We leave in half an hour.”

. . .

Nimue was not sure what to make of the Monk.

It was something she had overheard the night before that made her question if her assumptions about him had been made in haste.

After collecting firewood, she had stopped at the edge of the clearing, having heard voices. Intrigued, she had paused and observed as the Monk comforted Squirrel. But she quickly realized that the Monk was being a lot more open with the boy, even going as far as to tell him about his past.

The Red Paladins killed my parents and burned my village. Fa—Carden took me under his wing and molded me into a weapon. I never thought to leave, and even if I did, I had nowhere to go.

You could have used your ability to find one of our villages, you know, Squirrel had mumbled.

That had given Nimue pause. His ability? She had heard that the Monk was a good tracker, but she hadn’t attributed it to anything other than practice.

And you think that they would welcome me with open arms? After everything I’ve done? The Monk’s tone had been self-deprecating, but Nimue knew he was right.

The Fey Queen would not welcome him, the warrior who had to keep her people safe would not welcome him. But between the moment she had met him and now, something had changed. There was more to the Monk than she had thought.

The sun was just coming up over the horizon and they had just finished readying themselves to finish their journey.

But something was weighing on her mind, something Squirrel had said about the Monk’s ability. She couldn’t shake the thought away, so after the fire had been put out and Squirrel had been hauled onto the horse, Nimue decided to confront him about it.

“Monk,” she said, addressing him.

His eyes snapped to hers and his jaw worked as if he was deliberating something. Finally, he spoke. “I would rather you call me by my real name.”

“Oh, alright then.” Nimue blinked, a little taken aback. “Lancelot, I want to try something.”

The Monk looked at her warily but didn’t object as she stepped forward. His eyes tracked her until there was only a foot of space between them.

Hesitant, Nimue took his hand in hers, noting how large it was in comparison before quickly dismissing the thought.

She closed her eyes and called out the Hidden. Their power rose within her, and suddenly, she was connected to everything around her. She could feel the life of the soil beneath her feet, could feel the gentle drumming of thousands of heartbeats coming from the animals in the surrounding area.

But Nimue pushed through all of the nuances for something specific, something she was not entirely sure was even there.

And then she felt it: a soft inkling that slowly became an overwhelming sensation. It was coming from right in front of her—from the Monk. His connection to the Hidden matched her own, but unlike hers, it was buried deep within him, recoiling from her prodding.

Nimue pulled back and opened her eyes to find the scars under the Monk’s eyes glowing gold. As the Hidden retreated, the glow faded.

“Why?” she demanded. “Why lie about that?”

The Monk glanced away, his face a careful mask.

“Lie about what?” Squirrel asked from his seat atop the horse. “What’s going on?”

“Your friend here is Fey,” Nimue said without breaking eye-contact with the Monk.

Silence, and then—

“Oh, yeah.”

Nimue whirled. “You knew?”

Squirrel shrunk in the saddle.

“You didn’t think this piece of information would be of interest to me?”

“It wasn’t my secret to tell.” Squirrel crossed his arms, indignant.

Nimue sighed and turned back to Lancelot. “I can understand why Squirrel wouldn’t tell me, but why wouldn’t you?”

“Would it have made a difference?”

Would it have made a difference? Would you have taken pity on me if your Fey had been fighting a man and not a beast?

No, she had said. I suppose not.

This time, Nimue remained silent.

The Monk’s gaze was far away. “I thought you would hate me more than you already do since I’ve hunted and killed my own kind. Isn’t that worse than me being human?”

She wasn’t sure what was worse—fighting a nameless monster or fighting one of your own kind. How could you forgive someone for murdering their own people, those they should have protected? How could you forgive someone for going against everything you stood for?

Nimue did not have an answer, and she wasn’t sure that she ever would.

She did not say anything for a few moments, just analyzed his face, his scars. When she spoke, all she said was, “What clan are you from?”

His voice was quiet when he said, “The Ash People.”

Nimue remembered her mother telling her about how the Red Paladins had wiped out the Ash People long ago. She was not sure if she should comfort him or leave him to rot in silence—after the Paladins had murdered his people, how could he have joined them?

“How old were you, when it happened?” She didn’t know why she needed to know; it wouldn’t absolve him of his crimes. But nevertheless, she wanted an answer.

The Monk deliberated for a few moments, before finally bringing his eyes up to hers. “Old enough.”

Nimue shut her eyes against the blue of his eyes. She wasn’t sure what she expected. It was not like knowing how old he was would change anything, but it might have made things less tense between them if she was given the opportunity to understand.

The crunching of boots against leaves echoed through the forest. Nimue ripped her eyes open and spun around toward the noise. She caught a glimpse of red through the foliage, and she cursed under her breath. She didn’t have her sword, but she had one of the Paladin swords. It would have to do.

Her gaze cut to the Monk, anger rising. “Did you lead them here?”

“I didn’t, I swear.” He looked genuine, but Nimue was only reminded that he was a Paladin himself only a few days before.

She raised her sword to his throat.

. . .

“How do I know you’re not lying?” she snarled, voice low and dangerous.

Lancelot’s gaze flicked to the flashes of red robes through the trees. It would only be a few moments until they were discovered. He had to think fast.

“I can prove myself to you,” he started. “Stay with Percival while I dispatch them.”

“Oh, you’re giving me orders now?”

Lancelot fought to keep his tone controlled. “Just trust me.”

“That’s not happening.”

He worked his jaw, eyes trained on the Paladins heading their way. They would be upon them any second now.

An image of Squirrel’s broken body and lifeless eyes flashed through his mind’s eye. Lancelot could not let that happen. He couldn’t. He would not be able to live with himself if something happened to the boy, not after everything they had been through together.

Lancelot needed to protect the boy, needed to protect Nimue. It was all he could think as he unsheathed his twin blades, moving toward the Paladins as he did so. There were four of them, all with their swords drawn.

“What are you doing?” Nimue hissed.

He didn’t respond and instead focused all of his attention on the Paladins, who were heading toward them. They were no match for Lancelot, but he was wounded and his movements were slow. Even raising his swords required more effort than he cared to admit, though the salve Nimue had applied on his wounds had helped with the pain.

When they were only a few yards apart, Lancelot said, “You don’t have to do this. You can walk away and forget you saw us.”

“Us?” one of the Paladins asked, raising his sword a little higher. His companions looked around discreetly.

Lancelot’s brow furrowed and he looked back to check on Squirrel and Nimue—

Only to find that they were nowhere to be seen.

“We know what you’ve done, Monk.” The raspy drawl of another Paladin brought him back. “Abbott Wicklow wants your head.”

I am sure he does. Lancelot bit back the remark.

“How could you betray your own brothers?” another Paladin spoke up.

A different Paladin said, “Animals don’t have the capacity for reason. Betrayal is in their blood.”

Lancelot clenched his jaw and tightened his grip on his sword. This had gone on for too long.

Steeling himself, Lancelot charged forward and felled the first two Paladins by swiping his dual swords in two intersecting arcs in front of him. The Paladins crumpled to the forest floor, and the last two charged him, each taking moving to either side of him. The one to his left raised his sword above his head and slashed down, while the one to his right made a swipe at Lancelot’s ankles. Lancelot parried the Paladin to his left with little more than a thought and nicked the arm of the Paladin to his right with his blade. The man grunted in pain and redoubled his efforts, while his companion ran at Lancelot with a war cry.

But he didn’t make it far—vines erupted from the ground beneath him and twisted around his writhing body. The last Paladin froze in a moment of pure panic and fear, giving Lancelot an opening to stab him straight through the heart. It was a quick death and a mercy he felt obligated to give. They had been his brothers, once, and even if that meant nothing to them, it had meant something to Lancelot.

“You’re welcome.”

Lancelot spun to face Nimue. “I thought you had gone.”

She raised a skeptic brow. “We haven’t moved. We’ve been here the whole time.”

He could only blink. “I’m not sure I understand. You disappeared.”

“I might have a theory about that.” Nimue bit her lip in contemplation as she sorted through her words. “Your ability allows you to find those who don’t wish to be found; I suspect that it can also hide them, too.”

Lancelot’s brow creased. “But this has never happened before.”

“Have you ever needed to use it?” At Lancelot’s silence, she continued. “When I searched for the Hidden within you, a large part of it was buried deep within your subconscious. Like you’ve repressed that part of who you are for your entire life.”

“Oh.” He was not sure what to say. He had had to repress his identity for the majority of his life, so it was no surprise that if he had any other powers besides his tracking ability that they would be repressed, too.

“That’s bloody fantastic!” Squirrel shouted, hopping down from the saddle and rushing toward Lancelot.

Lancelot couldn’t help the upward quirk of his lips.

Nimue opened her mouth to say something but was interrupted by a powerful gust of wind that knocked them all back. When they righted themselves, a woman cloaked in black drapery stood in the center of the clearing.

“Morgana?” Nimue asked.

“There isn’t much time.”

[poptod]

Habromania (Ahkmenrah x Reader)

Description: You’re happy in a way that indicates it’s only politeness. He catches you when the facade slips - and it’s a thick coverup. 

Notes: A lot of my characters are pretty happy and content with their lives. I thought maybe it’s been too long since I’ve made my readers suffer. So, kinda angsty, I guess. Sorry, it’s not very good, I promise I’ll make something better

Word Count: 3.4k

Warning: Mentions of rape and abuse.

He’s here on another social visit, Ahkmen thinks to himself scathingly, almost glaring at the mayor - it’s impolite of him to do so, so he attempts not to. It’s not a very strong attempt, which he only knows because the mayor eyes him oddly before turning back to his father. Recently, Thebes’ mayor Piye has been visiting Memphis all too frequently, and the reason why baffles everyone, including Ahkmen’s mother. The only possible reason Ahkmen can fathom is that Piye and his father, Merenkahre, just get along very well and enjoy each others’ company, but the trips leave Thebes weak and neither of them listen to any warnings from himself or any other advisor or family member.

This time, however, when the usual greetings have finished, Piye steps to the side - there’s someone hiding behind him. Ahkmen leans to the side just slightly, just barely catching a better view of you before you fully uncover yourself. Piye introduces you as his eldest child, who apparently is usually in charge of taking care of Thebes during Piye’s visits to Memphis, but this time you’re here; your younger sibling has come of age to be able to take care of the city in the mayor’s absence.

You introduce yourself by name as Eydis, bowing to his father and thanking him for welcoming you to his city. There’s a grace to your movements, shaky and too-well practiced to be natural. In scrutiny he watches you, the shiver of your lower lip and the jolt of your eyelid when you stare Pharaoh in the eye - there’s something different behind your eyes than what you show. That raw life catches his thoughts as your attention darts to him, ensnaring him in a strange trance where he can do naught but wonder what person you’ve never shown you are.

In a breath the moment vanishes, and he’s unsure if it really did happen or if he thought it all up. Either way his father dismisses the crowd at large, and a servant comes up to take your luggage into guest rooms for your stay. He doesn’t follow, as much as he’d like to - instead he asks his father in a hushed voice where you’re staying, and his father answers with Piye’s consent.

“You have my permission to court Eydis, if you’d like,” Piye adds, before whispering to Merenkahre - though, Ahkmen can hear what he’s saying perfectly clear. “I’d much prefer your eldest son,” is what he says, and even though he had no intentions of courting you in the first place, the words spark a deep annoyance in him.

“I just wanted to introduce myself properly,” he tells the two men curtly, turning away before they could get another word in. He still hears his father whisper ‘teenagers,’ to the mayor, and he still hears the two of them laughing goodheartedly. All it does is annoy him further, to the point where it’s not a great idea to introduce himself to anybody, least of all you - you’re not royalty, but you’re very close, and despite what he thinks he saw he still needs a semblance of politeness in affairs with you.

Instead, in an attempt to calm down, he visits the water gardens of the palace where he usually finds peace - running water is a pleasant sound, and one that works easily on him as always. Flowers and lilies fill the pond in their spring bloom, pink and white hues splattering the pastel blue of the water. There’s a special serenity in the birdsong, he notes, watching wind rustle through brush. Maybe I should bring Eydis some flowers, he thinks for a while, staring at the long petals of red, drooping flowers, before remembering he’s not trying to court you.

Right, he thinks, thumbing at the soft, pollen filled center. Not courting.

With a particularly strong breeze he glances upwards and sees you, fingering at the leaves of vines overhanging the garden walls. Sunbeams enhance a loving glow round everything you touch, leaving him baffled at how you can touch anything and he thinks it’s instantly more special. It’s really not, he tries to convince himself of this, but the urge to pick the flowers and leaves you hold doesn’t go away; instead it speeds his heart rate as you grow closer, still staring at the leaves in a listless wander.

Despite his best efforts to think the right thoughts, he finds himself comparing you to the flower, and deciding that you’d look very nice with a flower in your hair. So, diplomacy blown to the wind he picks the flower from its’ stem, and makes his slow way over to you.

“Hi,” he says, and it comes out as barely a breath - you turn to him, doe eyes looking over him for the second time that day. It’s electrifying, and it makes him very, very anxious. “I… I wanted to properly introduce myself, properly, that is. I’m Ahkmen, son of the Pharaoh.” He holds the flower in front of him, unsure of how to give it to you, and unsure of how well you’d receive it; it occurs to him that you could be a very mean-natured person, but when you smile and giggle a flutter alights his soul with nervous admiration. With a soft grace you take the flower, admiring first its’ scent, then the color, before setting it behind your ear.

“Thank you,” you say, with that same tone of polite curtness. “I am Eydris. It’s nice to meet you officially. My father speaks of you highly.”

“Really?” He asks, furrowing his brow. Piye wasn’t always the nicest person to him, so the fact that he even spoke about him was alarming. “Well, um.. that’s good. I wasn’t… um, are… will you be joining my family for, uh, dinner tonight?” Internally he curses himself for his clumsy wording, but you don’t seem to mind.

“I follow where my father leads, so, yes,” you answer, and when you fiddle with the shawl you wear he almost forgets what the question was.

“Oh! Um, good. I’ll - I’ll see you then,” he finally gets out when he comes back into himself, and with that he walks away on shaking legs, putting as much distance between the two of you as he could manage. When he reaches the threshold separating the palace halls from the garden he peeks back to you, and finds a sight he holds forever in his mind. You’re smiling to yourself, distant from your own body as your fingers brush against the flower in your hair - a soft blush coats your cheeks, and when you turn in his direction he immediately hides again. Somewhere in that meeting, curiosity turned to infatuation. 

I don’t know what’s wrong with me, he thinks to himself on the way to the kitchen. I’m acting like a five year old with a crush.

In the kitchen he sorts out the seating arrangements as well as the dinner to be made. Of course, he seats you next to himself, on your left; to your right is his younger brother, who would pose no problems. Kahmuh or Khafra might flirt with you, which he doesn’t feel like taking a chance around, but Khufu isn’t yet in the stage of romantic attraction. He thinks out the arrangement in his head, and it comes out perfectly that evening - with a small smile you sit between him and his brother. Across from the pair of you is Piye, sitting right next to the head of the table, of course taken by Ahkmen’s father.

Thankfully it all goes rather well, despite the fact he doesn’t say a word to you the entire evening. Instead you’re caught up in conversation with your father and the Pharaoh, who has never met you before, and shows a polite interest in you. Khufu gets your attention every now and then, and certainly has a stronger bond with you than Ahkmen does, which irritates him. There’s no way you’re interested in him romantically, Ahkmen convinces himself, considering Khufu is about five or six years younger than you.

By the end, when the dinner is finished you excuse yourself with a bow and a thanks for the food. Neither Merenkahre or Piye show any adversity to your leaving, though there’s an obvious disappointment in Ahkmen, who shrinks into his seat and crosses his arms. The rest of the table, excluding the fathers, leaves soon after as servants come by to pick up the dishes, and Ahkmen decides he might as well pay you a visit, considering he didn’t get to talk to you.

It takes a little bit of work but he eventually remembers which room you’re staying in (which is, somehow, very near his), and, hoping he looks alright, he heads on his way to you. When he approaches the large, wooden door of the guest room his silent footsteps make way for him to hear something, something very odd, coming from your room.

After a good minute or two of listening, his ear pressed against your door, he realizes it’s you singing, muffled and broken, and it’s unlike any song he’s ever heard before. He’d say it’s a different genre, but it goes beyond that. Ultimately, he decides it’s unearthly, which isn’t too strange for you - you yourself are unearthly, in your movements and presentation of self. Every now and then you stop singing, and there’s another sound he can’t distinguish.

When a servant passes by him in the hall, eyeing him oddly, he knocks on the door, pretending he hadn’t been listening for several minutes. Instantly you stop, make your way to the door, and open it.

“Hi,” he manages to say, your eyes settled on him intently. “I - I thought you might want to, uh, take a walk with me…?”

You don’t respond for a moment, but a smile breaks across your face as you look shyly to the ground.

“Alright. I’d like that. I’ll… I’ll have to change my clothes,” you tell him softly, shutting the door quietly and leaving him in the hall, heart thumping louder than anything. Time passes slow as he waits for you, his heart doing a terrible job of counting the seconds - it goes far too fast, messing up his rhythm and making him sweat nervously, which only makes him more anxious that you’d notice it when you saw him again. Swallowing, he tries to convince his body to settle down with deep breaths, which does the trick until you return.

Creaking, the door opens, your fingers curled around the edge of it as it does. When you fully emerge from your room, he notices the sheer cloth you wore before has been exchanged for warmer clothes, which he doesn’t fault you for; evenings get much cooler, especially where’s planning on taking you, though you don’t know where that is. With a small bow you take his hand, and trying to keep a calm composure, he leads you down to the gardens.

Unlike the water gardens, this one majors in fauna, decorating every surface and lacing over every wall. There’s a clear path that winds down the center of it, lined by bushes trimmed daily by caretakers. In the leftover light of a sunset long gone he introduces you to every nook he knows, every seating area and outlook to a beautiful view, and throughout the entire time you’re very quiet - he doubts you’ve said more than five words by the time you’ve made a full circle round the garden. You’re still holding his hand though, which he takes as a good sign; he’s cold from wind blowing north to south, and your hand is the only warmth he has. He does his best to appreciate it.

“You’re very… odd. In a good way,” he remarks as the two of you stay seated on a bench sitting under hanging vines.

“How so?” You ask, a slight pout that makes him stutter soft on your lips.

“I… it’s.. you’ve got.. layers. It - it feels like there’s.. like there’s a lot more to you than what you show, if that makes any sense,” he says, trying his absolute best to describe what he’s noticed. The smile that was barely there fades fully away from you as you turn away, releasing his hand.

“I’m sorry, I… I have to go,” you say quickly, standing, and before he can even process what you’ve said, you’re gone.

He’s left alone, confused, and horribly worried that he’s offended you in some way - it’s a state he remains in for the rest of the night, plaguing his thoughts as he tries to sleep. In his dreams he hopes desperately that it hasn’t hurt relations between your cities, but there’s no way to know; at least not until morning.

For the next several days you avoid him like he’s deathly sick, barely glancing his way when he enters the room and leaving soon as possible. You don’t mention the incident to your father, which he thanks the Gods for, but your avoidance still hurts him. Throughout your stay he passes by your door, trying not to think of you every time he walks to his room, trying to avoid the urge to open the door and talk to you, which he does quite well till he hears crying.

Slowly, his hand pressed to the wood of the door he opens it, finding you curled up on the bed, your back to him.

“Eydris?” He calls to you softly, watching you turn with a jump, quickly getting off the bed and stumbling backwards.

“I - Ahkmen, I didn’t - you weren’t supposed to see that,” you say, your voice broken as you sniff.

“It’s alright, I don’t mind… are you okay?” He asks, shutting the door behind him when he enters.

“I’m fine,” you tell him using a voice that has never sounded less fine, turning away. He moves to stand in front of you, holding your hands as you try to blink away tears, still sniffling.

“Sure, now what’s wrong?”

Not once do you meet his eye - you’re always looking at something else, often in a completely different direction. It begs the question, what’s got you so afraid that you can’t even stand to look at him?

“I miss my mother,” you say, a defeated whine in the undertones of your speech. For a moment he’s left confused, wondering what to do when you press your face into his chest, hiding away from the world in his comfort.

“Your… mother?”

To his knowledge, you didn’t have a mother. Piye never took a wife, instead adopting children who were abandoned - it was a noble gesture, but now, watching you cry, he finds himself wondering if it was so goodhearted after all.

“It’s foolish, I know,” you choke out, wrapping your arms around his middle, hugging him tight. It’s an affection he welcomes easily, comfort and uncertainty all wrapped into one when you touch him.

“It’s not, not at all,” he murmurs, winding his fingers in your hair and stroking. “I wasn’t aware you knew your mother.”

“I knew my father too. I don’t… I shouldn’t be saying this.”

“… why not?”

You’re silent for a good, long while, waiting till you calm down before explaining. Patiently he stands with you, resting his chin on the top of your head that fits so well underneath him. For him you’re the perfect size, though it’s not a thought that crosses his mind; your state of distress is far more important.

“I can’t believe I’m trusting you, but... you’ve been so nice to me. You can’t say anything, to anyone,” you say, pulling away from his warmth to look him in the eye. Hesitantly, he nods, wondering what could be so horrid to never tell another soul.

With a shaky breath, you sit beside him on the bed, and your story unravels.

“I lived with my mother and father in a village near Amarna. We weren’t very well to do, but they loved me very much. Piye came one day, saw our state of living.. he decided for me that I’d do better living with him. Of course I didn’t leave easily, so I… he bound my hands, and my feet,” you glance at him, a look of utter trust and disgust towards yourself plain in your eyes. It’s unsettling, more than anything he’s ever heard, but he lets you continue. “And his treatment didn’t… didn’t really get better. He.. sometimes he hurts me,” you mumble, tears burning your downcast eyes. “Sometimes he uses me.”

“Uses you…?” Ahkmen asks, unsure of what you mean. You glance at him, fiddling with your robes, before turning your gaze back to your hands when you find no clarity in him.

“Sexually,” you clarify, clearing your throat as the word comes out coarse. His breathing halts, an anger unknown boiling at his fingertips as the very sudden urge to punch Piye comes over him. Instead, he calms himself, holds your cheek in his hand, and asks you a question.

“How can I help you?”

“I just want to go home,” you mumble, defeated as your head rests against his shoulder.

Even though his education is high, and he has access to any knowledge or story he wishes, he’s never come across something so dark before - it hits him in the stomach, sickening him in a way he’s never felt before. With no idea what to do except acquiesce your requests, he does so. Damn the consequence, he tells himself, already thinking up ways to sneak you out of the palace.

“It may not be safe,” he tells you, and begins to bring up other ideas. “You could stay with me, or I could tell my father. He despises violence.”

“No, no,” you say quickly, shaking your head. “I don’t want Piye to know I told anyone. He’ll hurt me.” Your grasp on his arm tightens, the fabric hanging there bundled in your hold.

“He won’t. Not if my father knows.”

He desperately wants you to stay, to live with him. To him, it’s a paradise on earth if you stay, to be able to see your beauty at his convenience, to watch your smile when he gives you a flower to match your elegance. He tries every solution he can think of, anything to make you want to stay with him, but you’re adamant.

“I just want to go home,” you repeat, broken and soft, and in that moment he learns that the best thing for him isn’t always the best thing for everybody else. You need to go home, and he will help you at any cost.

“I’ll get you there, I promise,” he says, avoiding every hint he could give that he doesn’t like this outcome. For the first time you smile, a real smile, and he could cry at how adoring it is. He nearly does, holding back when you hug him so tight he can hardly breathe.

The moon settles high in the sky and he takes you down to the gates of the city, where ships lay docked, several guards and merchants wandering around. He talks to a merchant who looks trustworthy enough, and pays a fare for a journey up the nile, slipping him more to keep quiet. To be safe he travels with you for two days, staying by your side every moment he can till your home is in sight.

When it docks, you practically jump out of the boat, running home through the common streets out into the straggling edges of Amarna. Attempting (very poorly) to keep up with your pace he follows you, watching you shroud yourself in the arms of your parents, your real parents. At your return they cry, and the three of you drop to the ground, overjoyed at your return. Ahkmen watches, keeping his distance till you motion for him to join you.

“I don’t know how many laws you broke for me,” you say, hugging him and burying your head in his chest, “but thank you. A thousand times, thank you.”

You’re not wearing the overly decorated clothes you wore when he first saw you - you’re not wearing jewelry or golden arm bands, but you look happier, more full of life than ever before. He decides he’s done a good thing, perhaps the first real good thing he’s done, and simultaneously decides the consequences don’t matter.

You’re happy; he won’t ever see you again, but you’re happy. It’s all that really matters to him. 

[transzojja]

rip to bangar ruinbringer but i simply would not have fumbled almorra soulkeeper

[justlookatthosesausages]

“In the eye of the storm” ◊◊◊◊ a post-Frozen 2 fanfic ◊◊◊◊ CHAPTER 4: In the fog

Elsa woke up to the soothing feeling of an opened glazed window and the heavenly sight of her girlfriend laying against the frame. Honeymaren was looking at Arendelle's landscape from the guest room, enjoying a calm break in the stormy weather to admire the mountains without getting showered by the rain. She also enjoyed the view when she turned at the sound of Elsa stirring and stretching in the bed, her ice night gown sparkling in the morning light. The blonde's short hair was just as messy as her long black one. The eternal flyaway lock came in front of her eyes, and the Snow Queen blinked tiredly as she passed a hand in her hair and fixed her bangs with a layer of ice.

"Join me?" Proposed Honeymaren.

Elsa went out of bed with a smile, and walked to her before kissing her in the neck. She nested her chin on her shoulder, circling Honeymaren's waist with her arms.

"Hi you."

"Hi." Laughed the brunette, kissing her temple.

She pointed at the village below.

"Look, we can see the unity statue from here."

"Yeah, I like to look at it sometimes."

"I think it's a good symbol to take example from in this time of crisis, don't you think? Our people together to face the storm and find a solution to it."

The blonde smiled. "You're very poetic so early in the morning. I could go back to sleep with that voice of yours that you use when telling stories to Sami children."

Honeymaren giggled and rubbed Elsa's cheek.

"You know, we could have camped outside. You're used to going on hikes, and the weather isn't really a problem."

Elsa hummed on her shoulder. Her hot breath in Honeymaren's neck underlined how the last part of her remark was true.

"I prefer when we sleep in the guest room."

The brunette smirked and turned to her.

"Having a taste for luxury, ex-Queen?"

Elsa poked her lover's ribs at her sarcasm. "No, I just prefer to give you the best comfort."

Honeymaren rolled her eyes, but knew she was sincere.

"Do I need to remind you that we slept countless times in Ahtohallan? I can handle a glacier, and a magical one furthermore, so I can handle a little storm."

"This is not a little storm." Warned Elsa, changing the topic unconsciously.

Her arms had even tightened a bit around Honeymaren's waist, and the latter patted her hands.

"It's okay. Relax. No pressure. No duties."

Elsa muttered something on her shoulder. Honeymaren knew her too well, sometimes it was unfair.

She then detached from her body to turn and look at her. "Honey, you said yesterday that I should relieve myself from tensions, but you should be the one to get rest. Yelena is going tough on you lately."

"I still have a lot of work to do. And she wants to pass me all her knowledge."

"And being the next tribe leader is a lot of responsibilities..."

"Which I willingly engaged myself into." Insisted Honeymaren, her eyes determined.

Two big azure blue ones saw that expression, and Elsa grinned.

"You're going to be the best."

"I know." Chuckled Honeymaren.

She noticed how high the sun was in the sky already, despite the clouds hiding it. "Now come on, we're going to be laughingstock if we arrive at breakfast after Eydis."

They closed the glazed window behind them and changed. Before passing the door, Elsa looked at herself in the mirror near the wall, and Honeymaren tickled her from behind. The blonde lost her balance and laughed out loud, leaving an echo behind her as they went to the corridor.

The surface of the mirror covered up with frost from the spot where Elsa had hung on to. 

=======

Honeymaren was right when she mused about the Northuldra and Arendellians uniting to find a solution to the magic storm. Elsa and Anna got very busy with only that in mind.

Several days had passed. The sisters didn't talk much, which was paradoxical for a period in which they actually were very supportive of each other. They had different duties on different places of the castle. Elsa was searching for spots all around the Arendelle village and surroundings where she could meditate and try to sense Nokk's or Gale's energy to understand their behavior, while Anna was sending messengers to neighboring kingdoms all around the country to check their administrative decisions and be updated to offer her help. At each meal, they exchanged on the other's progress, then returned to their activities.

Kristoff admired their work, seeing how they had been doing their best for the past days. However, he saw them less lately, and at a time when he had no duty and his daughter was busy in a math lesson, he went to visit Sven in the stables. He didn't expect to meet Honeymaren there.

"Hey, how are you? What are you doing here?"

He noticed that she was feeding some hay to a reindeer, and that the reindeer in question was obviously Sven.

"Oh, you're..."

"How's Sven?" Asked the Northuldra.

He gulped. "Why ask that?"

The brunette looked at him with comprehension. "There's only the two of us here, Kristoff. You can drop the lies."

The King rubbed the back of his head awkwardly.

"Not... Fine."

They both turned to the reindeer, who was sleeping quietly. Only...

"He was sleeping when you arrived?" Asked the blond.

Honeymaren nodded. "Yes, and I've come here early this morning when I saw something was wrong."

So she knew. Who was giving it away? Sven or him?

"Kristoff..."

She put the pitchfork back against the wall and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"...Reindeers rarely live beyond 20 years."

"Yes, I know. Elsa told me on her last visit. We spent a long time talking about it. She knows all about wildlife, now, uh?" He smiled.

"She does." Smiled Honeymaren. "I've never met someone as curious as her. And I have Ryder as a brother!"

They both laughed. Kristoff cleared his throat.

"Is is true that you have a... Ceremony for..." He gulped again. "Deceased reindeers?"

"Yes. We do. First because in Northuldra culture, we consider that each living life is important, but also because a lot of us have been close to a particular reindeer helping them in daily tasks for years or on which they like to ride. We know what you feel."

There was a blank. She let that sink, and continued.

"When the moment will come, we'll give Sven the ceremony he deserves."

"It... It would be an honor if Ryder and you..."

"Sure."

He heavily sighed and sat on a stack of hay. Honeymaren joined him.

"I've known him all my life. He's not just a buddy, he's like... My best friend."

"Like a brother." Smiled Honeymaren.

Kristoff appreciated her precision. "Yes."

"How about you talk about it to Ryder on the next time you come visit us in the Forest? I'm afraid it will feel weird if you bring the topic during game night."

"Yeah, good call."

They laughed.

A few moments later, Honeymaren explained that now she was sure that everyone in her Arendelle family was alright, starting from Elsa and including Sven, it was time for her to go back to the Forest.

Elsa also insisted that she had duties to attend as well as the next tribe leader, and when her reindeer was ready to do the way back, they all assembled at the castle's entrance. Anna took advantage of Elsa and Kristoff talking to have a private talk with Honeymaren.

"I'm sorry again that Elsa shut you out and didn't tell you she came here."

The Northuldra chuckled. "Don't apologize for her. She apologized herself in her own way."

"Okay. You know, she uses this mechanism... Pushing people away... To actually protect them. It looks like she wants to be alone and reject people who can help her, but in fact..."

"...It's the opposite. She's craving for care." Finished Honeymaren.

Anna smiled. "You know her just as much as I do now. I'm so happy that being in couple helps in confessions."

The redhead's eyes stung with emotion. "Honeymaren, I'm deeply glad that you're her girlfriend and such a caring person and always here for her. You're the person she always needed, unconsciously."

"Oh, she's very conscious of that need, let me tell you." Winked Honeymaren.

The redhead's jaw dropped with shock at the innuendo, and they both laughed.

Anna retrieved her breath. "Anyway, her happiness is what counts most for all of us."

She put a hand on the Northuldra's shoulder. "She's always been happy since the day we stepped into the Forest and she met you. She's finally living the life she deserved."

"I fully agree." Grinned Honeymaren.

They hugged, and the others approached. Anna gave her enough chocolates to feed the whole tribe, and Elsa a kiss big enough to steal her oxygen. With an amused gasp and a pat on the blonde's shoulder, the Northuldra stepped back and climbed on her reindeer.

Elsa looked fondly at her girlfriend.

"Take care."

"No, you take care." Smiled Honeymaren.

Her loving gaze then became serious.

"Who knows what the Spirits might be up to."

Elsa nodded. She also rarely added a word after Honeymaren's brief wise sentences.

As if to give her courage, the reindeer licked the Snow Queen's face, and she chuckled and wiped her cheek.

"Yeah, I was happy to see you too, Vibeke."

She stroked the reindeer, nervously passing a hand along the Northuldra motives on the harness.

"Keep an eye on the tribe while I'm still busy here, okay? And tell Yelena I'm alright."

"I will", promised Honeymaren, finding her bashfulness cute as always.

"I was talking to the reindeer."

"Oh."

Honeymaren then lifted an eyebrow.

"...Wait, you're teasing me, right?"

"Of course I was talking to you, silly!" Laughed Elsa.

"You're such a dork." Sighed Honeymaren, shaking her head.

"11 years and you still fall for those tricks."

"Well, you do talk to animals all the time. So excuse me."

Elsa swatted her leg, and Honeymaren laughed before tapping her ankles on the reindeer belly to make it gallop.

"See you later, snømus!" Exclaimed the Northuldra, her voice echoing in the Arendelle's castle courtyard.

"See you later, Honey." Smiled Elsa as she looked at her lover go.

=======

Honeymaren had left thinking Elsa was alright; however, she wasn't. She had been meditating for days - sometimes even in crazy places that drove the others nuts when Anna and Kristoff learned about them, such as the rooftops or on an ice island in the middle of the fjord - and she still couldn't grasp Nokk's or Gale's energy. She could sense they were there, somewhere in the sky, yet nothing precise. Not only did that made her sad and worried, but she couldn't help feeling like a fraud. Sensing the other Spirits and preventing them from putting people in danger was literally her job, and she was failing miserably at it. Every time she told Anna that her new meditation session had been in vain, her optimistic sister replied that everything would end well eventually. Nevertheless, Elsa had more of a pessimistic personality, and the first day after Honeymaren was gone, she started to tell herself that she wasn't worth of Ahtohallan's blessing. What if she could never get why the Spirits were doing such a thing? What if she could never bring them back in the Enchanted Forest? What if the storm kept going eternally for generations and generations? Elsa shivered from this idea, and twitched on the top of the clock tower where she had been sitting in lotus position. She sighed and opened her eyes, looking at the dark horizon. The sun wasn't even setting yet and the sky was already gloomy, sometimes pouring with rain and sometimes bringing a blowing wind in the village. Sometimes both. At the moment, it was the first option, which was why Elsa had picked the clock tower, for it had a roof under which she could shelter. It also was the only remaining place in Arendelle that was high enough to stare at the horizon and could maybe help her sense the Spirits better, yet it changed nothing. She looked at the castle in the distance through the curtain of rain, and sighed again before standing up.

"There's no point. I should go home."

As she went down the stairs of the tower, she realized that maybe she should just stay in Arendelle and never dare to return to the Forest. Maybe that her home wasn't there, after all. Did she even deserve to come back to the woods alone, empty-handed, with no improvement?

She made her way through the village, not even walking fast, letting her thoughts and shame go down on her like the rain.

After entering the castle, Elsa went to Anna's study and was about to knock on the door, but it was, as usual, slightly open.

The redhead however seemed to be deep into work, and she heard Elsa's presence only when the Snow Queen's wet ice sandals tapped against the wood floor.

"Oh, Elsa!" Exclaimed Anna, smiling as she saw her elder after jerking her head up.

"Uhm... Can we talk?"

"That's great, I actually have something to tell you too."

"Can I go first?" Asked Elsa, clenching her hands.

Anna was a bit disappointed to not start with her news, but encouraged her, putting her pen back in her ink pot.

"Yeah, do say."

"I still got nothing."

"Uh?"

"I meditated, again, and again, and tried to sense their feelings, but... It's all blur. It's like they're really, really far, but at the same time I can tell that they're just above us. It's really weird, and I hate that I'm not able to understand why."

"It's okay." Smiled her younger. "Surely you felt a thing or two?"

Elsa shrugged, disappointed with herself. "Maybe. I felt urge, dread, anger, and they're both giving all their magical energy in what seems like a swirl, a mix of water and wind. I know this sounds stupid, because it's basically a storm. I could also feel that they're reckless."

Anna stared at her. She wanted to ask: 'Those are emotions you also felt from them days ago, has nothing changed?' but remained mute.

Elsa kept going. "I have nothing else to say. All I sense, coming from them, is danger. So, in summary, as long as I don't know what's going on, my best advice is to stay indoors and not do anything."

A long silence passed. Anna cleared her throat.

"Well... The thing I wanted to talk to you about is..."

She bit her lip.

"I'm leaving tomorrow."

"What...?" Muttered Elsa.

"A messenger from Hitiheimr came in this afternoon to tell me that the decision had been made official, all leaders are awaited there to discuss—"

"Did you listen to anything of what I just said?" Cut Elsa.

Anna closed her mouth, and realized that ironically, on the other hand, Elsa hadn't been listening to her sentence. She frowned.

"I did, but this is of the most importance..."

"I'm telling you to stay inside and you're telling me that you're going out tomorrow?"

"This is important." Insisted Anna.

She showed a paper that was on her desk. "All kingdoms of the country have decided on common agreement to gather in the eastern lands of Hitiheimr to have a national meeting and take decisions about this storm."

"I just told you my decision!"

"No, not yours." Tried to clarify Anna without sounding blunt. "This is about royal decisions. What the kingdoms have to do to face the problem."

"This is just dumb."

The redhead blinked and frowned. "Excuse me?"

"This is ridiculously risky!"

"And it's just as ridiculous to stay inside and do nothing!" Jolted Anna.

"Actually, I'd prefer that you don't do anything!" Threw Elsa, blushing in irritation.

"What?! Oh, come on, you're just angry because you've been nervous those last days. Look at you! You're the only person in the world who gets upset after meditating."

"Because the world needs me right now. And I don't have solutions."

"And that's because you can't find any that you're offended, I get it! But don't you think that the world needs me, as well? Are you saying that I can't help too? That I can't bring solutions?"

"No, Anna, you're confused."

"I'm the one who's confused?!"

"Don't raise your voice at me." Warned Elsa.

"No, look, I have all the rights to raise my voice at you. I've been just as distressed as you those past days to find a solution to move on in this magic storm and when I finally make things go forward, this is how you support me? Look, I have to—"

"There's no way you're leaving."

"No, I have to, Elsa, it's my du—"

"This is too dangerous."

Anna gritted her teeth at her interruptions, which were driving her mad.

"I have to go because—"

"Why didn't you even tell me a messenger had come this afternoon?" Frowned the blonde.

Anna exploded.

"You were out meditating, Elsa! Why was I supposed to do? Find you? Apparently I couldn't, for I see that you don't want me to step outside!"

"You know I meant that because I care about you." Grunted Elsa, not liking her tone.

"Because you're afraid I would what, fly away in the storm? No need to smother me, Elsa. I can take care of myself."

She saw that her sister was about to open her mouth, so she kept going.

"Also, your point doesn't stand. We went to investigate about the storm a few days ago, and you seemed fine about it!"

"Because like you say, it was days ago!" Exclaimed Elsa, now making big gestures of the arms and hands like her sister was doing on the other side of the desk. "Also, I was there to protect you just in case something goes wrong."

"Nothing will go wrong. The land is barely one day of travel from here."

"But—"

Anna was frowning now and she suddenly slammed both her hands on the desk. "That's enough, Elsa. If you prevent me from going, I swear to Odin that I'll give an order to the guards to stop you."

"You have no right to—"

"I definitely do", yelled Anna. "I'm the QUEEN!"

Now her fist was banging the table. "Which is exactly why I'm going to attend this meeting, DO YOU UNDERSTAND?"

"FINE!"

Elsa's yell echoed against the walls and she left the room in a fury, nearly bumping into her niece who was about to enter in the study.

Anna slumped into her chair, sighing and massaging the top of her nose.

The little girl blinked at Elsa's exit, confused, but focused back on why she was coming.

"Mama..."

"Not now, Eydis, please."

"It won't be long, I promise." Said the princess, as it wasn't the first time that she interrupted her mother doing royal activities.

The redhead sighed lengthily.

"Go on."

"It's about a book."

Anna took a long breath in, trying to remain calm and not show anger or sadness to her daughter. She gave her a warm smile.

"Sorry, Eydis, I can't tell you a story right now. I'm busy, you see?"

"It's not for a story! Can you give me the one on runes again?"

Anna frowned and looked at her between two fingers of her hand. "Again? Fine, I'll get it for you, it's in the library. But I told you already, the runes on grandfather and grandmother's headstones stand for—"

"I know, I know." Grumbled the little girl with a typical childish annoyed tone. "It's not for that. I want to learn new ones."

Anna was too tired to ask why she needed it, and rubbed her temple. "Alright, I'll get it for you once I finish my work."

Eydis stepped further, and then around her desk, observing her mother. "Are you hurt at the head?"

"No. Maybe... Sort of." Exhaled Anna.

The girl jumped to sit on her mother's lap, and the latter huffed of surprise, but then smiled as the girl idly played with the stamp left on her pile of letters. A silence passed.

"Mama... Why are you working at this time?"

Anna looked at her desk above her daughter's head.

"I have to go in a neighbor land tomorrow to have a national meeting with other kingdoms, sweetheart. I need to make sure everything is set before I do."

"Oh, Queen stuff is so boring."

"Not always." Assured Anna with a chuckle.

She bent to blow a raspberry on Eydis' cheek, and the girl cackled with laughter.

Silence followed as the princess silently turned the stamp in her hand. Anna's pen scratched a paper calmly, and her daughter looked at the door.

"Where did Auntie go?"

The Queen winced.

"I don't know, Eydis. Sometimes it's best that way."

"Why did she leave then?" Asked the child.

"Well, you see, I told her exactly what I told you about the meeting. And... She doesn't really like that news."

"Why?" Frowned the princess.

Anna smiled. "People react differently to the same things. For example, Auntie Elsa cares about me more than anyone in the world, and she needs time."

=======

On the first days of the storm, Elsa thought that Anna would enrage to not be able to go outside because of the weather, yet she didn't; the redhead had matured through the years since she became Queen and a mother. She now enjoyed taking care of administrative things and staying indoors.

However, in the day that followed, Elsa had never wanted more for Anna to stay within the walls of the castle.

As Anna was preparing the harness of her horse with the help of a groom, Elsa kept pacing left and right in the corridor in front of the box.

The horse followed her moves with curiosity, wondering why the woman was walking like that and clenching her hands.

"Do you really have to go today?" Asked Elsa.

Anna inhaled discretely to conjure the needed patience as her sister had asked this question way too many times in the past hours.

"Yes, I have to go today. I'm expected."

"At least go on Sven!"

"No, he's getting too old." Reminded Anna, still not looking at her.

Elsa wasn't really looking at her either anyway, staring down as she kept turning and turning.

"Are you still thinking about pros and cons?" Guessed Anna when she saw her mood. "You seem to feel guilty about something."

The blonde sighed.

"I'm sorry for the dispute we had yesterday. I guess I was envious to see that you succeeded in your objective, your task, your duty... While I've done nothing."

Anna turned to Elsa with wisdom. "Which is why I have to attend this council. This is the part I play in, you understand that I have to do it."

The blonde passed her hands in her hair. Why was her sister always right?

"I know it's the safety part that worries you." Stated Anna as she stroked the horse's neck. "Remember, Mattias will be with me. Do you doubt of his dedication?"

"Of course not!" Exclaimed her elder.

Destiny had proven many times to Elsa that Mattias would do anything for his country, especially for Anna whom he had seen in the most dreadful situations and admired to no end, willing to give his life to make her safe.

"It's not that." Muttered Elsa. "I'm scared of this storm because it's magical, and... It's not something I can stop, or handle, or even predict. You've seen how it got worse every passing day."

"Another reason why I must leave now. The faster the council happens, the faster I'll come back."

Elsa was about to reply, but Anna really had the best arguments. Was it because she knew Elsa by heart now and figured that reason and logic worked well on her, or was it thanks to her experience in diplomatic missions? Surely both.

"Then be your best self."

"I will." Winked Anna, making the horse brush twirl in the air.

"If anything would happen..."

Elsa gulped, looking down.

"Anna, if I lost you, I think I'd lose myself."

The redhead's eyes widened.

As the groom gave directions to the horse to walk out of the box, Elsa stepped aside to let them pass, and she went near the wall, staying in the shadows.

When she lifted her eyes, Anna was launching herself to her for a big hug.

Kristoff stepped in the stables to join his wife and sister-in-law, who were giving each other the longest hug he had seen in a while. Giving them a moment alone, he saluted Mattias with a nod as he walked by him with his horse, also ready to leave.

When the sisters finally split up, Elsa fidgeted with the cords of Anna's coat. She distractedly passed a hand along the reindeer fur.

She remembered the year when she had offered this coat to Anna on Yule celebration. All the family was united that day, and the redhead had managed to hug Honeymaren and her at the same time in a tearful embrace, to thank them for such a gift. The whole coat was tailor made and customized based on Anna's favorite colors and motifs, and the couple had entirely hand stitched it. The Snow Queen passed a distracted finger on the green seam, then realized that she was losing herself in a daydream. She cleared her throat.

"You, uhm... You shouldn't wear your coat this tight. Riding will make you warm from the effort, and after a while, you'll feel cramped."

Anna smiled tenderly. "Okay. Thanks for the advice, Northuldra."

She loosened the cords a bit, and went to her mount to tie one last bag she had left on a bale of straw. The blonde stood still where she was in the stable's corridor, like she incited her sister to stay here.

"Do you really have to go?" Asked timidly Elsa in one last try.

In that moment, a flash came to her mind, and she realized that she had asked this sentence the exact same way to her parents as the last thing before they were gone... Forever. Instinctively and defensively, she mentally threw that fact at the back of her brain.

Anna sighed slightly and stopped attaching her bag to her horse. She gestured to Mattias to take care of it before she turned around and walked back to her elder, and the general nodded with a comprehensive smile.

Anna's eyes were two determined teal blue gems as she made her way to her sister, her gaze right into hers.

"Elsa, for the last time: it's my duty. As the leader of a kingdom."

"Queendom", corrected Kristoff with humor. "I technically do less than you."

Anna chuckled. She turned back to Elsa.

"As the Queen of Arendelle, I have to go check on neighboring lands to ensure that everything is fine for everyone. This is not only geopolitics, it's also humanitarian. There's no way I'm staying here and don't act to help."

Her voice was strong, clearly ordering Elsa to stop trying. She had a remarkable royal tone. In any other context, Elsa would have been filled with pride for her younger, yet since the day before, all of her soul was roaming with fear. She was so worried for Anna that she couldn't tell if it was a bad feeling or paranoia.

The blonde searched for help in the King's eyes, but Kristoff seemed way more confident about Anna's life than Elsa was, and it made her even more nervous. Was nobody going to be on her side? Why was no one preventing her from leaving?

Elsa could picture all the worst happening to her little sister, and she bit her lip.

"But what if something goes wrong? We can't communicate via Gale, and postal services have stopped with the storm..."

"I'll be alright." Insisted Anna.

The Snow Queen wasn't convinced, shyly looking down. It somehow reminded Anna of her own daughter when she received an instruction she didn't like and yet knew she had to respect. Why did Elsa look like a child sometimes? The redhead smirked internally.

"Hey."

Her elder only muttered a 'hmm' as an answer, not lifting her face. Anna bent her head to catch her gaze. She knew Elsa's coping mannerisms more than anyone.

"You know I'll be fine. It's a few days journey, with a path that is way less dangerous than the one leading to the Enchanted Forest."

"But—"

"Let me finish. I'm expected tomorrow at noon when the council starts. If we don't attend, they'll know. It's more than safe."

The blonde hated how perfect those points were. She now pouted, knowing she couldn't add anything else. Anna saw it but hid her amusement.

She remained serious and breathed in and out with a sad smile.

"Elsa. You have to let me go."

The blonde's eyes stared elsewhere to hide her emotion, and she eventually blinked her tears away. After a while, she sighed and assembled enough courage to look at her sister with a determined look.

"Okay. I'll give you space."

The redhead smiled warmly. She put her hands on Elsa's shoulders.

"The sun, the moon and the sky, yes, I know."

Elsa stared at her with a smile slowly stretching her lips, stunned by her sentence.

"You remember?"

"Of course I do." Chuckled Anna. "I'll never forget my very first birthday with you after the Great Thaw."

The blonde had done everything she could to chase her tears until now, and immediately they were replaced by other emotional ones. Anna noticed, and her hands switched from her shoulders to her cheeks.

"Hey, hey, no more tears, okay? I shouldn't have brought that up." She laughed nervously. "Time for me to go, or I'll be late."

She gave a sign to Mattias, who was holding both their horses, and when she joined him, Elsa could only follow without a word.

Kristoff came close to his wife.

"I'll take care of Arendelle with all my heart while you're gone."

"Just like I know you will, honey." Smiled Anna brightly, and they kissed.

She then put her feet in the stirrup and climbed on her horse's back. Mattias did the same, smiling at the reactions of her family.

Anna made her horse walk to the doors, and she turned one last time.

"I'll be back before you guys even notice I'm gone."

Elsa winced.

"I doubt a lot of that."

Anna gave her a positive smile and winked. With the clear light passing between the clouds behind her as she was high on her horse by the doors, she seemed to have an aura. Elsa missed a heartbeat.

"I love you." Mouthed Anna.

She then dashed her mount forward, closely followed by Mattias with the same speed. Kristoff waved at them as they rushed to the horizon, and Elsa stared at their figures shrinking in the distance.

"I love you too." Muttered Elsa.

Her heart was in pain watching her leave, now disappearing from her sight. First Honeymaren, now Anna... The Snow Queen brought her hand to her chest, tightening it against her heart, and closed her eyes.

She clenched her eyelids and bit her lips as one prayer in her mind begged Ahtohallan to keep an eye on the two most precious people in her life, and to make sure that nothing bad would happen to them.

[najwa-the-boomerang]

[Old Fic] Heroes

(This is an old fic I had begun just before I ended up dropping off the face of the earth for a bit! It’s old news from before the fall of the Legion, not current events, but I had still put a lot of work into it so I thought I’d finish and share it.)

Najwa was laid up at the Red Tree for several days after the Elwynn mission.  She was lucky, the medics said, that the estoc to her middle hadn’t struck anything vital—or that the exertion she put on her body after hadn’t torn her wounds further.  

She spent little of that time feeling lucky.

At the height of a healing fever, she saw him there at the foot of the bed, pacing in the way he had done when his mind was restless.  Only this time, he was restless with impatience of her failings.

If you had been paying attention, you would have known throwing your shield at the man with the crossbow was a poor choice, he scolded.  You had a hostile right in front of you brandishing a weapon.  Your ward was not in immediate mortal danger, you were.  Why did you not trust in his abilities?  Your gallivanting put you both at risk.

“I know,” she whispered.  “I know this.”

Once again, Najwa. He sighed heavily. Once again, you tried to stop a show no one was watching. Stop thinking about what goes on in your stories.  Life and death are real.  

She heard less and less of his voice with each word, and more of her own. Their deaths are real, and on your hands--men who were poorer armed and poorer trained.  

Boys of men.

“Yes. I am very sorry, Sir.”

The ring Ms. Fwi had granted her was wrapped in her fist.

From the saddle of her charger, she drew a long face upward at the tall gates of the mountain city, the ring now in her belt pouch suddenly heavy like a tell-tale heart.  What if someone was there that she knew? The Councilor, or the rest of the Vigil, or worse, Ms. Fwi.  

Few others should be as proud to wear this as you.

She hung her head and steered her thick-bodied charger, Cashew, away.  She’d clear her mind elsewhere.  No use in bringing everyone down.  

Just a little wander, and then she’d be right as rain.  Right?

But the hilly, snowy roads of Dun Morogh on the back of a warhorse were pretty awful for someone full of stitches and raw scars.  When she finally saw the little dive on the edge of the hamlet she approached, she was just grateful to stop and stable Cashew for a while.

It was dark inside the little tavern compared to the bright, sun-lit snowscape outside of it, but after some moments of squinting she found her way to the bar.  The air was speckled with murmured and jovial conversations, and no one seemed to notice her beyond a passing glance--something she was grateful for as she slumped onto a stool made for people half to three quarters of her size.  But she had gotten used to it over the years.

“Whatcha having,” came a disinterested greeting.

Najwa didn’t bother looking up as she steepled her chin in her hands.  “Do you have hot cocoa?”

There was a snorted echo in response.  “Hot cocoa?”  There was no affirmative or denial, but the tender slipped into the back.

The draenei dug into her belt pouch to find some coin, brushing into the medal and its chain.  With the silver, she pulled it out, pressing the money to the polished surface of the bar before mulling the token of accomplishment over in her hands.  It was a thing of beauty to even her half-trained eye, brand new, gleaming--as though it hadn’t spent days clutched in a sweaty palm.  She turned it over in her mauve fingers, pulling her bottom lip in beneath her teeth.  

Ms. Fwi thought she deserved this, and the Arbiter was as wise as she was kind.  But she hadn’t been there, had she?

She hadn’t seen those two greedy men die for nothing.  She wasn’t there, watching when Najwa almost--

A heavy stein plunked down in front of her. “One hot cocoa.”

“Oh. Thanks, friend.” she sighed.

It took her another moment before she realized that she was being stared at.  Najwa looked up, only to see that the bartender was still there.  A human woman, with her one eye wide, and a stern mouth slowly gaping.  

“Holy shit.”

“Pardon me, friend?” The draenei blinked in confusion.

The tender abruptly let go of the stein and dug that hand into her dark, nearly greasy looking hair, casting around a glance before fixating on her again.  “It’s you. Boomerang.”

Najwa’s cheeks turned a darker mauve, and she awkwardly sank into her seat.

This is not what she needed right now.  

“Oh,” she began.  “I do not know what you mean--”

“No, I know--I’m sorry, sorry, sorry.  The Unstoppable Smiling Boomerang, right? Turalyon’s titties, in my bar,” the woman repeated, breathless.  It looked like she would tear from both trying to shout and whisper at the same time.  

“Haha, yes, well.” Najwa forced a smile, shaking her head.  Her pigtails brushed over her shoulders as she glanced to the door.  She had already paid… “That was all quite a while ago, friend, and...”

“I’m sorry, I don’t think there is a statute of limitations on being fucking amazing,” the woman pressed.  “I went to all of your fights.  Even the prelims. Even the practices!  Every single one.  I was in the tournaments too.  Here, check this out.”  She leaned over the bar so much that Najwa thought, for a brief moment, she was going to crawl up onto it.  The human pulled up her cotton sleeve to reveal an ink one on her muscular arm.

“Oh,” Najwa hesitated, pulling her cocoa out of the way of the bartender’s elbow.  “That...that is...Scourge Lieutenant Eydis Darkbane.  Most, erm, tasteful.”  Well--it was beautifully done, anyway.

“I’ve got Fjola on the other.” She looked about to roll up the other one, but stopped.  “Miss Najwa the Unstoppable Smiling Boomerang, I am such a fan,” she gushed.  “My name is Mag.  But I mean, you could call me whatever you wanted. Literally, whatever you wanted.”

“I...you know, I like Mag, though.  Mag, it works.”  Najwa recovered herself a little, seeking the woman’s hand in a firm shake--if only to keep her from flying into space.  “And you should call me Najwa.  This is what my friends call me.”

Mag looked giddy enough to float, which was amusing--there was little about the human that implied ‘giddy’ was a resident feeling for her.  She gripped Najwa’s hand, prolonging the shake.  “I can’t believe you’re here.  In my bar.  What are you doing here in my bar?”

“Drinking cocoa,” Najwa pointed out after a moment, the draenei at a loss of anything else to say. She released Mag’s hand and brought the stein to her lips.  “It is most times my comfort food.”

“Is it really?” Mag said in a way that told the paladin the trivia was being etched permanently into the inside of her skull as they spoke.  “Wait, well what’s the matter, then?”

“Oh, no friend, nothing is wrong.”  She shook her head, crossing her arms on the bar, looking down into the stein.  The cocoa was surprisingly good.  “All is well, I promise you. Besides, you must be very busy.”

“Hm.  Yeah.”  Mag licked her lips as she swept the coin into her hand. When the bartender stepped away, she thought that was the end of it.  But then, after a few moments, she heard the sound of coins pressing against tables and a herd of feet scuffling across the floorboards.  She looked up to see everyone in the tavern leaving in tandem, not without casting a sideways eye at the one-eyed woman, who glared them down shamelessly.

As the door shut on the last person, she said, “Turns out I’m not busy at all right now.”

“So you killed two guys who got the jump on you, and almost killed a third guy who also jumped you,” Mag parsed, recounting on her fingers. “But then you didn’t kill him, and then you helped the cleric get everyone the medicine they needed, because the third guy was only jumping you because he was driven to it by corrupt bullshit.”

Najwa nodded miserably, over her third mug of cocoa.

“Then it sounds like it wrapped itself up neatly,” Mag shrugged. She had come to sit on top of the bar, one leg hanging down with the other bent at the knee.  Her sleeved arm was draped over it, weighted by a glass of bourbon and bitters at her fingertips. “I’m; I mean, I don’t follow why this is such a big deal.”

The draenei looked up at her, shocked.  “But I--I got cocky.  I shouldn’t have thrown my shield. ”

“Okay.”

“And, and the men. They were under-armed, under-trained.”

“Sure sounds like it.”

“But that was wrong!”

“For them to try and rob you, a clearly more experienced and well-armed fighter?”

“No, you don’t…” Najwa gave a frustrated sigh.  “I think you are not understanding, friend Mag.”

“I think I understand it more clearly than you do at this point, all due respect,” Mag pointed at her with her bourbon hand.  “You were on a mission and you completed the mission.  Did it go tits up? Sure.  But tits happen.”

“It could have been so much worse,” Najwa collapsed into her arms.

“But it was only a little worse,” Mag conceded, shrugged.  “So what are you going to do? Give up? Say ‘fuck it’ because you can’t do it perfect? Never fight for what’s right again?”

“Of course not!” came out of her mouth before she could stop it.  

A moment passed between them when as Mag’s mouth hooked with a satisfied smile, she felt the same expression blooming in her chest, weak, but alive.

“Then say ‘fuck it’ and do better next time.  It won’t fix anything you did wrong in the past, but you have to. That’s what heroes do.  It’s that simple.”

The smile in her heart widened, stretching her chest and reflecting now on her lips a little as she considered the last of her hot cocoa.  

“Alright,” she decided, lifting the stein.  “F...Forget it.”  

Mag snorted. “Close enough.”

Najwa upended the stein and let the last of the chocolate drip onto her tongue.

[farplane]

wolf eats sun

mars 2019: an other excerpt, this time from the second book of codename: merc dad. 1,400 words.

His boots squelched in the mud, as though the earth wished to pull him down, but he forged on until he was climbing up a short incline littered with broken branches. He moved with none of his usual silent hunter’s grace, and the branches snapped mercilessly in the still air. The sun shone blindingly down into his eyes. As he came up to flat ground, he was standing at the edge of a clearing bordered by jagged boulders and facing the point of a broadhead.

“Don’t move!” shouted Sihtric in a raw voice, his auburn hair as wild as flames. Fear made his chest go up and down noticeably with each breath, and his arms shook from holding the draw on his bow. “Not another step!”

Sairsel raised his hands in surrender, palms open. “Sihtric, it’s me,” he said, taking one careful step forward, then another.

“I’m not blind,” Sihtric said. His face was hard as he maintained the draw, staring at Sairsel down the length of the arrow. “I still don’t want you to come closer. You left me.”

“I know. I did.” Another step. Sihtric’s draw was lessening under the effort. “I made a mistake.”

“That’s easy to say when you’re two seconds away from an arrow in your face, isn’t?” Even in the face of Sihtric’s anger, Sairsel couldn’t help the fond smile that pulled at his lips. Sihtric’s frown deepened. “Don’t mock me!”

“I’m not mocking you, Sihtric; I like you. And you’re angry at me because you like me, too.”

Sihtric’s expression twisted with the strain as he pulled tighter at the bowstring to return to full draw, his elbow rising to lessen the strain on his back and shoulder. “One more step and I’ll shoot.”

“No, you won’t.”

“Try me!” Sihtric shouted.

Sairsel took two steps forward, and Sihtric loosed. The arrow whizzed upwards past Sairsel’s ear, missing him by at least a foot; he didn’t move an inch. More than ten feet still separated them, but for now, Sairsel made no move to get closer as Sihtric’s expression darkened with embarrassment, pink spreading over his skin.

“Your form was good, at first, but it takes a lot of strength to hold at full draw. Better to only pull back the string when you’re just about ready to loose, otherwise you get all messy and you lose any accuracy you could have had,” Sairsel said gently.

“What do you want?” Sihtric snapped, his expression closed off. “Why are you here?”

“Everyone at the keep was out looking for you. They’re all worried.”

“I don’t care. I don’t want to go to Blackhart and live with some strangers. I’m not going back.”

Sairsel looked around the forest. “So, what’s the plan? Wander, live off the land, be free?”

“For a start. I’ll figure out as I go,” Sihtric said curtly.

“Yeah, I get that. I dreamed of the same when I was your age,” Sairsel said with a few casual nods, then took one small step. “It never panned out for me, but you might be able to get your wish, if you don’t mind following a boring Strider around.”

The repeated disappointment this entire affair had inflicted upon Sihtric had hardened him with wariness. “What are you saying?” he asked defensively.

“My training wasn’t done. Well, I don’t think so. But I had to come back,” Sairsel said, pushing through every barrier that surrounded him to get the words out. “I don’t want you to go to Blackhart, either, not unless you want to.”

Sihtric remained rooted to the spot for a long, silent moment, his chest rising and falling as he stared at Sairsel as though waiting for him to laugh and call him a fool for believing a lie. Sairsel took another step forward, and Sihtric, reactively, took one step back. Sairsel stopped. Sihtric’s grip on the bow came loose, but it was silent as it touched the grass, silent as the wind passing through the leaves that Sairsel didn’t even hear.

Sihtric raced towards Sairsel—and this time, Sairsel met him halfway, welcoming him. He sank to his knees and wrapped his arms tightly around the boy’s small frame, lifting a hand to the back of his head as he held him tightly, his eyes squeezed shut.

“I promise you,” Sairsel whispered, “I’ll never leave you again.”

Sihtric’s arms tightened around his shoulders at those words, as though Sairsel and the promise might fade away if he did not hold tightly enough onto him, and curled his fingers into the fabric of his jacket. For as long as the boy would let himself be held, Sairsel closed his eyes and let the tide wash over him. He couldn’t remember ever having felt so at peace; like he was exactly where he belonged.

He pulled back when the breath through Sihtric’s chest shuddered against him, looking at the boy’s face and finding him fighting back tears. They prickled at Sairsel’s eyes, too, as his smile pulled upwards at his face, but he swallowed through the emotion that threatened to close up his throat and held Sihtric’s face between his hands.

“Don’t cry, lad, hey?” he said in a soft voice, laughing wetly as it only made Sihtric’s chin tremble more. The boy’s expression was a storm of feelings all rushing together, overwhelming him. Sairsel felt the same. “Or do cry. It’s all right.”

Sihtric sniffled with finality, steadying himself and squaring his shoulders. He put a hand on Sairsel’s wrist. “I’ll be fine.” His lips twitched as he held them pressed together, watching him with eyes so darkened by emotion that their icy blue seemed more like sapphires. “I can really stay with you?”

Sairsel nodded. “As long as you want. But you understand what it means, don’t you? I can’t give you a comfortable life in a big house that’s always warm and dry and with a full larder every day. It’s a hard life, and you’ll have no real home—only the Strider keeps where we’ll stop from time to time. Well, if they’ll still have me.”

“They’ll take you; I know it,” Sihtric said, and Sairsel ruffled his hair. “I can keep up, Sairsel. I’ll show you.”

“I was gentle on you before because I was escorting you. It’ll only get harder.”

Sihtric’s gaze was hard with his unwavering determination. “And I was being easy on you because I didn’t want you to feel overwhelmed, but now you promised, so we’ll see who has a harder time, won’t we?”

Sairsel laughed and patted the boy’s cheek, then got to his feet, walking to the discarded bow to pick it up from the ground. His steps were light, and the giddy feeling in his chest won over the dizzying doubts that threatened to overwhelm him. He’d been so sure that this boy’s presence in his life could only be transitory, before; that he could only bring him all the wrong things. Now, the certainty was gone. All he knew was what he’d known when he was cradled in Eydis’ arms like a child: that he couldn’t leave Sihtric, no matter what.

He returned to Sihtric’s side and handed him the bow, tugging it towards him without letting go when Sihtric took hold of it. “We need to agree on something, though, you and I.”

“What?” Sihtric asked, looking at him with questioning eyes that did little to conceal the wariness creeping back around him.

“I’m not your father, and you’re not my son, but I’m not just a guide to you anymore; do you understand? You need to listen to me, even when it doesn’t suit you. I promise to hear you when you have something to say, but the final word is mine until you come of age. Is that clear?”

Sihtric nodded solemnly. The compromise, compared to what authority he might have had to endure at the temple, seemed a very small price. “I get it.”

Sairsel released his grip on the bow. “And no more shooting at me unless I tell you to. One day, you’re going to stop missing, and I’ve had more than enough holes poked into me as it is.”

All it took was a motion of Sairsel’s head and Sihtric trotted forward to walk at his side. On impulse, Sairsel dared to rest a hand on Sihtric’s shoulder, and the boy didn’t shy away from it.

[werecapwolf-blog]

morning after the last day of shloshim & he and bucky uncover the mirrors together. (they’ve got all of two anyhow.) he wonders if the mirror sees the difference that steve does in bucky– 30 days and part of him seems a stranger, or just– older. more somber. but that’s what losing your mother will do to you, give you your first real sip of how bitter it tastes when the world takes somebody you love away.

bucky’d been more strict about doing this the right way than steve can ever remember him being. bucky’d never been much for church or well– synagogue he supposes. steve thinks he’s doing it for eydie– because she’d probably be getting a kick out of bucky being all traditional– steve hopes wherever she is, she can see her son.

bucky’s face is dark, shadowed with stubble and sadness and when steve cups his face it’s rough against his palms. like a tangible layer of mourning & steve’s never been good at letting a layer be between them.

         “c’mon. let’s get you cleaned up, you’ve got work later.”

their relationship has always been structured a certain way– built on certain frames, ‘bucky takes care of steve (when steve will let him)’ & ‘steve takes care of the chores’ but these are not eternal absolutes. they have each never been ONE THING to the other, they’re changeling & mist & they support each other. that is the only absolute truth steve believes in sometimes.

it says something steve’s almost afraid to think much less name, that bucky is letting steve take care of him. presses him into one of their creaky dining room chairs & wants to kiss him. wants to just to see if his mouth can twist bucky’s up into a smile– his mouth has been so set lately; stiff & stubborn. not at all like him, like his easy manner–smirking mouth & dancing eyes. it’s the pliancy that kills him, the way bucky’s body just sort of sinks against the chair. fire not put out but smothered a little, burning more like an ember than a flame.

steve is no good at this & he knows it– there is nothing in him at times that feels like it was built for comfort, no soft places save his heart in his bony frame, no gentle touch in reedy fists. love, or something like it, sits poorly on him. fits him about as well as bucky’s borrowed clothes, hanging loose, too big for him to feel like he fits comfortably inside of the feeling. (but still he clings at it. tight gripped determination on it’s lapels, pulls it snug around his shoulders to feel like it fits him well.) neither of them speak words like love between them, neither fires that first shot would mean bloodshed & hurt, if they spoke it, they’d also have to acknowledge the impossibility of it. instead they indulge each other in little sweetnesses, shut the door & shut out the world and play at a relationship that won’t—can’t, see the light of day.

steve couldn’t hold bucky’s hand at the funeral, he’d ached to do so. this is what he can do instead, fill warm water from the sink into a basin, rub shave lotion carefully over bucky’s face, into the prickly growth of dark hair. he can sit on bucky’s lap, feet barely brushing the floor and carefully and methodically peel that shadow off of bucky’s face, swishing the razor through the water between passes. they don’t speak but that has never stopped them from comunicating, bucky’s hand is warm on the small of his back, finger spread wide with the guise of steadying. bit by bit, swirl of dirty water by splash, bucky is revealed in patches, then all at once as he towels himself clean. his face is the same, the cut of his jaw, the straight line of his nose, the softness of his lips and the smile that always seems to be ready to come out– tucked just there at the corner of his mouth. it’s the eyes that do it, something else in them that didn’t seem to be before, gaze heavier or just shaded with how fleeting life & the people in it could be.

steve cups his cleaned shaven cheek, the damp warmth of his clean skin feels good under his fingers, feels like a piece of normalcy they’re trying to build again.

“there you are.” steve says, soft. “almost thought i’d lost you under all that.” playfulness is in his voice but— it clashes with the fear and worry in his eyes.

bucky pulls him in, hand on the back of his head and steve turns a nuzzle into a kiss, just a soft brush of their mouths. like the reaffirmation of a promise.

he let’s bucky hold him for a long while afterward.

@comiitatus​

[flourishingbatter]

Injustice, why aren't you doing anything!? HELP HER ALREADY!!!

The puddle seems to slow momentarily, sinking through the snow to stop at the base of a tree.

“...Shut the hell up. I’m wary about Eydis losing her senses and attacking the girl on sight but so far she hasn’t...Yet. I still need to assess that Omen will be able to defuse the situation, otherwise I’m gonna step in.”