#slowly over years he becomes cruel from the throne and he regrets not killing the drakeblood

[ryderdire]

Thinkin about my oc and grrrrrrr

[return-of-a-space-cowboy]

For the fairytale au thing, Yan! Prince! Giorno x Princess!reader? Essentially sleeping beauty but reader was the one who locked themselves up in the tower- just to get away from Giorno, an extra thing i wanted to add maybe reader said whoever could get her out of the tower, is the person she would marry (sorry if its alot)

Thanks

Tower of thorns

(yandere Giorno Giovanna X female reader)

You made your escape from the castle under the cover of darkness, running through the thick forest. Within the coldness of the night you found warmth in the arms of your forbidden love. Tears streamed down your face and soaked into his clothes, you knew that the world wouldn't accept your love for a wizard but you had never imagined that your family would send you to marry a prince you'd never met to boost your kingdoms economy. You had told the blonde prince that you weren't interested but he was deadset on making you love him.

Your heart ached to know that you would not be allowed to love who you truely loved and that thought had drive you to do what you would do.

"I have everything ready... But are you still sure you want me to do this dear?" He asked, his soft voice trembling with sorrow.

"Yes, I can't bare to live in a world that tear us apart" you sobbed as he brought you into his cottage and sat you on his bed.

While he grabbed the vial of a glowing purple liquid you took a good look at him. He wasn't like the old shriveled men you had been told about. He looked around the same age as you but was probably two to three times your age. You honestly wondered why he'd chosen to fall in love with a mortal like you who would die centuries before he would but never the less you cherished every hair on the brunette's head.

Tears streamed down your face again as you knew it would be the last time you'd see him for a long time.

"Oh dear don't cry, I hate it when you cry" he tried his hardest not to sob as he sat beside you and wiped away your tears.

"It's just... I'm going to miss out on so much..." You muttered.

"(Y/n) I don't care if you marry that prince, a human marriage doesn't stop me from knowing that you love me" he explained, so desperate to talk you out of drinking that potion.

"But I don't want to marry him, I want to marry you and until that day comes I'm better off to just disappear" you cried.

Your lover looked down to the ground, he couldn't talk you out of this no matter how much he tried. Tears finally flooded his eyes as he finally succumb to his sorrows.

"My love do not cry... Just promise me you'll be at my side when I wake up" you said as you hugged him.

"I'll wait for you as I slumber, I'll dream of our marriage until that faithful day comes" you softly spoke as you gave him a tight hug before flinching as you heard a knock on the door.

"Amore I know you're in there, it's rather cruel to run away on the night before our wedding" a familiar voice called from beyond the door, his voice was calm but you knew that deep inside the prince was burning with anger.

"Please don't let him in" you begged with a whisper.

"It's fine we are far away from him, if he were enter now the he would see nothing" he explained.

"What do you mean?" You asked. He helped you up and guided you to the door as he began to explain.

"Just some simple spacial magic, the interior of my home can be in multiple building, the prince is standing outside of the cottage in the woods but if you were to open the door now" he said before he opened the door. Prince Giorno was not there, nor was the forest. Instead you saw a balcony and as you stepped out and looked over you saw that you were now in a tower so high in the sky that it nearly touched the clouds. The tower covered by various thick thorny growth, making it an almost impossible feat to approach.

🌕🌕🌕

Giorno did not hesitate to kick to door down and storm in but he found that the small cottage was completely empty. He gritted his teeth as he knew who you had run off with. A bitter taste grew on his tongue and a fiery ache lingered in his chest. Prince Giorno was absolutely livid but hid it as best as he could from his those with him.

He knew he'd have to tell your parents of your escapade as soon he could if he had a chance in keeping their faith in him. He returned back to the castle woke the foreign royals and told them of your escape with the wizard. The two weren't happy in the slightest of the news and left instantly to command a search of the land. In a few days they made an announcement that made the young man want to lurch.

They had found the wizards lair in the tallest tower in the land, a tower so tall that the roof kissed the sky. However such a large tower was shrouded in thorny overgrowth that would break any sword to try to cut it and would shred a man to pieces if they were to fall into it. The royals had also revoked you from marrying him and instead you would be married to whoever could scale the tower and return you to the kingdom.

Giorno felt his stomach twist in disgust and horror. All he ever wanted was you, you hypnotized him with your fair beauty and sweet voice. He had offered you the greatest luxuries that a woman would ever dream of but you still declined to reciprocate the same feels that he felt.

He treated you as a higher being, like you were a goddess that descended from the heavens to grace the world with your eternal beauty yet you still rejected his love over and over again. Every rejection just rubbed away at him little by little, at times he had been so tempted to lock you away for only his eyes to see but he'd always shake off those thoughts before he'd act upon them and now he regretted that he hadn't followed such selfish desires.

Days passed into weeks and soon month passed into years. Nobody had reigned triumphant in conquering the tower and the Prince had become a king but his feelings never faded. Unlike most who tried to win you he hadn't attempted to scale the tower, he knew it was a futile task. Instead he looked to find the so called evil wizard who kidnapped you. He sent all his cavalry to hunt him down.

Giorno sat on his throne eagerly awaiting for any news when the brunette that he had been trying to hunt came before him, the wizard had come willingly with no chains to bind him.

"You made quite the disappearing act, I was starting to believe that you'd disappeared off the face of the earth" Giorno softly spoke.

"So what made you decide to come to see me of all people... After all you ran away with my wife to be, I should just kill you where you stand" Giorno continued, his voice became a growl as he pulled a sword from behind his throne.

"I don't wish for conflict" the man said.

"I just want my lover to be at peace until she wakes up" he continued.

"What did you do to her?" Giorno asked with an eyebrow raised as he made not of such a weird plea.

"It was her choice, I tried to talk her out of it-"

"I asked you what you did?!" The king hissed.

"I made her a potion to put her in a sleep like state. All she wanted was to live in a time where our love would be accepted" he explained, knowing the lies that were spread and the many who had been killed or mortally wounded in an attempt to climb the tower. He realised that your protest had done more harm to the cause then good.

"Love between our kinds are forbidden, it is a mirage that can never truely be... We perish centuries or even a millennia before your kind does, how can one love what is destined to disappear in the blink of an eye to you" Giorno explained to the male as he placed the sword down on his lap.

The wizard simply stood in silence, he knew that the king was right.

"I understand..." He muttered.

"Why not surrender her to me? I'll treat her well as give her all that she desires" Giorno asked the male.

"I'm sure you'd rather her live a life knowing she lived well then have her to worry about what she'll leave behind" he continued.

"Besides heartbreak clings onto the soul like barbwire and chains, I dread to imagine how carrying such sorrows over centuries" he said before having his first proper look at the male. He looked worn out and stressed, his eyes glazed with sorrow.

Giorno was charming and charismatic. He knew how to get into peoples heads and knew what words made them tick. It hadn't taken much effort to finally get the wizard to surrender you, but the king wouldn't let him get away with what he did scott free.

The wizard was to be imprisoned for sixty years once you where brought back and that was a price he was willing to pay. He wanted you to live a normal life and to have a partner that you could have children and grow old with, something he could never provide to you. He knew you'd be mad but he couldn't stand the heartbreak.

🌕🌕🌕

The wizard led Giorno and a few of his guards through the dense forest of thorns and up the large stairway that seemed to go on forever until they reached a door, he opened it to reveal the room in which you had slept in for year. He hadn't returned since you had fallen asleep so the overgrowth of flowers had seeped into the room itself.

"Now how do I wake her up? I presume she won't react to sound or touch" the king asked.

"Well the effects usually last ten years at the most but I've heard from old folklore that a kiss can arouse someone from slumber" he explained.

"Old romanticism?" Giorno muttered to himself, hoping that such an old tale is true as he approached your sleeping form. He stood at your bedside and admired you as you seemed so peaceful in amongst the silk sheets.

He slowly pushed a few stray strands from your face before leaning in and planting a soft kiss onto your lips.

Giorno eagerly waited for you to wake up. Minutes soon turned into an hour yet you still hadn't woken up. A frown formed on his soft lips.

"Such a shame" he muttered before he signalled his guards to take him away. The wizard could escape but he complied, not wishing for any conflict.

Giorno picked up your form and carried you bridal style out of the room and down the stairs and out of the tower before making the long journey back to his kingdom.

🌕🌕🌕

You tossed and turned as you stirred awake as you felt a light tingle on your lips. Your eyes slowly opened to a blur of colours, the bed sheets felt off and had a certain mixture of smells. Sharp cologne and a masculine musk as well as your own. You hoped to see your lover by your side but instead you saw the prince you had tried to escape from.

"Bon giorno mio amore" the prince with long blonde hair greeted with a warm smile as he laid next to you. Your heart skipped a beat before beating like it had never before as your stomach dropped.

"Oh mio cara, you look so pale... What's the matter?" he asked as he entwined his hands with yours. You quickly pushed him away before trying to get out of the bed, only to find one of your legs were chained to the bedpost.

"You! That is what's the matter! Where am I?!" You yelled.

"Shh, all the servants are asleep... You'll wake the whole castle up with a voice like that" he scolded with a hush tone.

"Where is my lover?" You asked.

"Right beside you darling" he cooed.

"No, you'll never be close you bastard!" You hissed, the males dreamy expression turned cold.

"Oh you mean him" Giorno growled.

"Well you see amore, he surrendered... He's currently serving a sixty year sentence for his crimes" he slyly explained as a sickeningly devilish grin contoured his features.

You pounced on the male as a sudden burst of rage ignited in you, making you pin him underneath you.

"How dare you! He did nothing wrong!" You yelled.

"Oh but he did... You should be thanking me... Most others were inclined to have him executed" he explained.

"For falling in love with me?!"

"No, it's for hiding you away from me as well" he answered

"why even love such a being?" He asked before he flipped you do now you were underneath him, his long hair tickling your cheek.

"What makes wizards any different to us?!" You asked.

"They are beings that possess powers both of good and evil, many turn to pursue the darkest of magic to achieve the ultimate authority in the world, but their kind as a whole are able to live much longer then you or I... It is a precaution made by both sides to stop instability between our kinds" he explained before wiping the tears that began to stream down your cheek.

"Don't cry" he cooed sweetly.

"He gave you away to stop conflicts between the kingdoms... And he didn't want you to worry about him" he explained before sitting up and grabbing something from his bedside, a similar vial to the one with the sleeping potion, but this one had a bubbling liquid that looked like pink molten lava instead.

"What is that?" You asked as your stomach churned in fear but he gave you no reply as he opened it and tried to make you drink it.

You thrashed around and free your head from side to side.

Soon Giorno grabbed you by the chin as he weighed your body down before emptying the vials contents into his mouth before pulling you into a harsh kiss, using his hands to hold your head in place as he forced you to drink the sweet liquid from his soft lips, like how a bird fed it's young.

He didn't stop until he knew you'd drank every drip of the love potion before he got off of you. Throughout the night rest of the he dreamt of how you'd be in the days and years to come as his beautiful wife once you were married.

🌕🌕🌕

You heart fluttered as you walked down the long aisle, people from near and far admiring you in all dressed in white with flower decorating your long hair. You looked in the distance to see your lover king Giorno Giovanna, memories of your true lover were buried away in the deepest parts of your mind.

He gave you a smile and your heart melted, he was like a drug to you. You were so desperate for his attention just so you could feel something, anything. You where nothing without him he was your world, your everything. You needed him, you needed that tingle of cupid's arrow. Nothing else in the world was interesting, just him and only him.

He was your lifeline and you couldn't wait to be his dear wife and to spend everyday of your life with him.

[fadefromthelight]

chapter 6 - touch starved

Summary: Julian is finally King. Blaze comes to him for a conversation.

Read on: Ao3

Blaze stands before the doors to the throne room, a hand pressed against the wood. But he can’t bring himself to push the door open. Hesitation bleeds into his movements and minds here.

Julian stands on the other side of the door. He’s King now, having torn the position from Braith’s grasp mere hours before. It’s the first quiet moment after a flurry of action, announcing Julian as King in the midst of a war. The only thing Blaze could do was watch from the sidelines.

In the end, they’ve won. Braith is no longer King. The rebellion will slowly fall apart as their goal has been achieved. They’ve finally gotten someone that will look twice at the wingless. But Blaze still isn’t done. The whole reason why he was fighting was so he could stand beside Julian again. But all the rebellion did was push them further apart.

There was a moment, when Blaze was standing before the country as the figurehead for the rebellion, that realized he would have to fight Julian. The mere idea sickened him, but there was nothing he could do if Julian continued to stand with Braith. Blaze knew, deep down, that Julian wasn’t doing this volunteeringly. But Braith painted them against each other. And Calethyia wanted nothing else but to see the Thervin fall.

Even now, there is the expectation that Blaze is going to fight Julian for the throne. Ever since Julian lost to Braith, Braith made him the attack dog of the Thervin. Before they started fighting Rhyven, Julian systematically cut down multiple bases-of-operation near the capital. What was once reverence and hope associated with his name turned into disdain and hate.

And all Blaze could do was watch. He held his hand, only waiting and observing. He couldn’t stand against Julian but he couldn’t stop the rebellion either. At this point, it’s gotten beyond his control. A result of his own actions, but a complication nevertheless. Each Guild led their part of the country against Braith. There was barely anyone left in the country that supported him.

But in the end, it wasn’t any of them that ended Braith’s reign. Julian stepped up and killed him before anyone else could.

Blaze had to watch as Julian unflinchingly fired round after round into Braith’s chest. There wasn’t a trace of hesitation in his movements, the entire Vineras practiced and controlled. Julian even gave Braith a sense of triumph, only to tear it all away a moment later. It was impossibly cruel and vindictive. It was exactly how Braith taught him to act.

Blaze doesn’t know how much of that is an act anymore. Before all this, Blaze could read Julian easily. But now, all he can do is watch as Julian becomes a person he no longer recognizes. It’s only been months since that day, but both of them have laid witness to the fall of a government. And now, there’s the only one who can stand on top of it.

Blaze pushes the door open, the hinges creaking in the silence. He walks into the room and his steps echo against the wood. Across the hall stands Julian. A heavy cape is draped on the chair beside him and a dark crown rests on it. Julian’s magic runs through it as electric blue cracks.

Julian’s wings are spread out on either side of him, the normally night black dulled to a dark grey. The flight feathers are missing and are replaced by electric blue magic imitations. The feathers themselves are lined, pale white bars layered on them. From a distance, they are barely noticeable, especially with how Julian’s magic weaves around his wings. But from here, Blaze can see them clearly.

He’s never seen Julian’s wings look this bad. He’s never been the best at caring for them, something that Blaze repeatedly reminds him of, but they wouldn’t look like this. He didn’t think you could do what Julian’s done with wings that look like that.

Julian turns, snapping his wings closed and dispersing his magic. The faux flight feathers disappear, leaving Julian’s wings look clipped and short. He deactivates them with a spark of magic. “Blaze.” His voice is neutral, flat even.

Blaze swallows, drawing his own magic close to his chest. He’s in uncharted territory. Julian never cared about Blaze’s magic, but that was before he was King. “Julian.” Blaze can’t continue. He has no idea what to say.

For the first time this entire rebellion, he’s left speechless.

Something twists in Julian’s expression, gone before Blaze can decipher it. “Why are you here?” Julian asks, quiet and resigned. “Is it to Challenge me?”

“No.” Blaze frowns, the words he wants to say leaving him. “I couldn’t do that to you.”

Hesitation flickers in Julian’s gaze. He looks over to the door behind Blaze, before looking back. “Are you alone?”

“Yes.” Blaze made sure of it.

Julian nods slowly and his posture relaxes. He walks over the throne and picks up the crown. He dispels it and it disappears into fractured shards. “I’ll ask again, why are you here, then?”

“I’ve realized something.” Blaze chooses his words carefully. He can’t say anything more than what he needs to. “After seeing your Vineris with Braith. You’ve changed.”

Julian bristles. He narrows his eyes and presses his lips flat. “Of course I have. We all had to, to survive this war.”

“It’s not like that.” Blaze couldn’t stop thinking about the day where he pushed Julian onto this path, when he refused the very thing he ended up leading anyways. He can remember exactly who Julian was then with startling clarity. If there’s one thing he’s happy about, it’s that Julian’s matured past that person. “You’ve become a better person.”

Shock dances across Julian’s face but he hides it better. “How can you say that? You’ve seen what I’ve done.”

“You took the step that no one else was brave enough to.” Blaze imagined how the fight would end numerous times. Too often, it was with Blaze's blade against Julian’s throat. Because Braith wouldn’t have let Julian stand idle if Blaze Challenged him.

Julian tightens his hands into fists that tremble at his side. His magic flickers around him. “You say it like I did it for some noble reason. I didn’t.” Julian draws in a sharp breath. “It’s just like Alden. The only thing I could think about was killing Braith.”

“In the end, it doesn’t matter why you did it.” Blaze knows intimately well what Julian is talking about. A doubt encroaches on your thoughts if you do something so noble for your own selfish gains. It’s the exact reason why Blaze led a rebellion. “Just that you did.”

“How is this any different than with Alden?” A desperate edge takes to Julian’s words. His voice wavers, minutely but noticeable. “Why are you supporting me now when you wouldn’t support me then?”

“I should’ve.” Blaze has spent every day regretting that. With everything that was going on with Alden trying to incite a rebellion and the Guilds drawing more attention to themselves, Blaze was too preoccupied to truly consider what Julian wanted. Blaze was blind and played right into Braith hand by staying within the box that the Guilds were placed in. He’s learned his lesson. “I’ve realized that now.”

Something cracks in Julian’s expression and a desperate longing bleeds in. “I--” Julian draws in a shaky breath, his voice cracking. “I didn’t mean it. When I said we weren’t family.” Julian’s voice lowers, thick with unshed tears. “I missed you.”

Blaze didn’t think he’d ever hear those words again. He was prepared for rejection, for Julian to still hate him as much as he did all those nights ago. But he was wrong.

Never in his life has he been so glad to be wrong.

“I’ve missed you too.” Blaze smiles, small and hesitant. But he doesn’t move. He wants nothing more than to hug Julian, to show him that doesn’t have to fight any more. But he saw how Julian reacted to touch. He doesn’t want to hurt him again.

He holds out his hand. “How about an alliance?”

Julian looks between Blaze and his outstretched hand, confusion in his expression. But it quickly melts into understanding. Julian rushes across the room, taking Blaze's hand in a tight grip before wrapping his arms around Blaze’s shoulders.

Blaze returns the hug and Julian practically melts into his grasp. Julian sobs quietly, his whole body shaking. Blaze holds him close with a desperation he didn’t know he could have. He didn’t know how much he missed this, having his brother close. It was something he could only hope for, dream for when he needed to remember why he was fighting.

Julian pulls away first, unsteady on his feet. Blaze steadies him with a careful hand on his shoulder. “Is everything okay?” Blaze asks, giving Julian another once-over. He didn’t see him get hurt that badly, but he could’ve missed something.

Julian pushes Blaze’s hand off. “Yeah. I was just a little lightheaded.” Julian forces a smile, the strain clear. He takes another step back, leaving a good half-a-meter of space between them. “I’m just--” Julian shakes his head. “I’m happy.”

Blaze gives him another gentle smile but doesn’t reach over to touch him. “Let’s go announce our alliance.”

Julian nods and for the first time in a half-a-year, they walk out together.

[ineluctablehere]

To Achilles, the sky would always turn grey

The sky was grey. A vivid dark grey with clouds that resemble smoke. The air smelled like blood and dust. It smelled like flames .. Like agony. It smelled like war.

The white blood trickling flag tied high on the pole was seen far away . Too small to be noticed .

A white flag, splotched with browning red was tied high on a pole, a long way away from her castle. But they were here already. Their metal clicking , clanking swords dripping blood onto the soil that reeked red. The piles of bodies created a pattern nobody would want to trace and yet the queen was calm in her castle.

Her armour was loose and detached as the last left huddled around her. Their heads bent low in shame and fear. This was the end . This is what they feared the most. The ending where they would never return home.

Nobody dared to speak a word. There was nothing else to do. Their queen would have to surrender. She would be beheaded or worse-become a slave. They had heard of the King of the North. The atrocities people suffered in his prison. How women would plead to be killed than be graced with morning’s light. Mercy was something he had long forgotten.

The silver shields crowded in the room reminded her of her coronation. Except the blood sticking to the wounds and the fear that hung low in the air, sticky and suffocating. Her knight speaks up , his voice too bold.

“ I’ve prepared the west wing, my Queen. They are well equipped. The swords , the cannon , we have plenty-” he is interrupted.

“ We will still lose.” her words are sharp and painful ,like the final breath leaving the living.

“ We have the archers given swords too , I think if we try to attack from the south quadrant-”

“Achilles .” The queen gently places her hand on his bruised knuckles . He looks up, too fragile to be viewed at the moment. He had lost hope.

“Why do you lie, Achilles? You hated liars when we were young. Have you changed perhaps?” There is a small smile that grazes the queen's face. Her green eyes searching the golden sea. He blinked before standing straight. “ That’s all we can do .”

“ Is it ?” her smile falters a little. Carefully looking at the torn boy in front. “ My Queen the south quadrant is fully-”

“ Achilles , I’ll come to the foreground.” The golden eyed man looked shocked , betrayed. tell himself this was a nightmare , a terrible terribly cruel nightmare he would wake up from. He would wake up and be 10, a child with loose flowing tangled ebony hair. He would run across the halls of the castle hoping to see his best friend . He would smile at his best friend, grass green eyed girl with juvenile mischief.

“Prepare to clear the entrance, I want no civilians , no soldiers . No one . Bring me the chariot.”

“My Queen-” the murmurs erupt , the walls rumbling .

“ I have sworn to protect my kingdom and that is exactly what I shall do. This is an order. You are my army. You will listen to me and nobody else.” her voice bounces, ricochets off across the crystal sheets of the ceiling , erupts into the ash sky and the sun gleams ,pouring his vessel onto her.

The queen in all her majesty sat on her golden throne , engraved with carvings of silver and ivory. Her sword firm in her hand . the white gown sprawled across the floor. She looked powerful.

She was the ruler and nobody else. The dark blue streaks slightly danced across the tips of her hand. Achilles stood emotionless beside his queen. Witnessing something he never wanted to.

“ Now leave. Do not fear them. Fear can kill you before death. -” There is a loud sigh.

“ I hope I've been a worthy queen.”

There was pain in their eyes. The fear is long gone. There is guilt . There is remorse .They look at their queen one last time before leaving the hall , determined to fight for her. But she was determined to die for them. They chose her and here she was giving away her life for her kingdom, the same that might forget her in years. The men and women adorned with weapons swore to never forget her. They swore to build temples to celebrate her, and promised to chant hymns to praise her. Carve her name over and over again on the walls of the kingdom. The children will sing about her to their children. Their children to theirs.

The wind would cry her story and the trees would listen.

But in the end she is a child. A child forced to wear a crown , forced to rule a kingdom. A child who lost her childhood. They wish to see her smile again. Dance across the halls of the castle, sing during festivals and grant the wishes of the children that cross the doors .

It’s too late now.

Achilles waits for her to explain herself. Tell him to not lose hope. Tell him the fight has just begun. He stares at her. Watching her lips curve into a solemn smile.

“ Some days come sooner than we think they would. There is nothing to mourn here Achilles-”

“ What do you mean ?!” The boy roars. “ You are going to ..die” his sword clatters onto the floor. The tears finally streamed down his tanned face. He sobs. His head safe in his palms, his body trembling.

“ Do not cry , you need to accept reality. This is what I’m born for. This is what the people want. They want to live and I'll let them live.”

“ Do not deny me the right to cry! You are going to die and there is no-thi-ng I can do.” he looks at his empty hands.

“ There is a lot you can do , you can stand with your men and women, with your kingdom. You can be the greatest knight in history.” the queen steps down from the podium.

“Rise dear Achilles, I wouldn't want our farewell to be this way. Lead me to the battle will you?

Stay with me till they come.” It was a silent plea. A small consideration for everything they shared.

“ We could ask for help from the West-”

“Achilles, do not lie to your queen. You know this better than me. We all will die. I cannot sacrifice my people, not anymore. I can't be selfish. A queen can never be selfish.” She walks past her dear companion.

“Do not blame yourself , do not be guilty. This is my choice.” There is an uncomfortable silence that settles. The wind was heard slow and humming beyond the long glass windows.

The queen is afraid to look back, afraid she might break seeing him. If she had to choose, it would be to turn blind. “ Can I hold you, before you….go?” The voice is too faint to be heard. It's not a request , it was a plea.

“I’m afraid not.” The queen's voice is cold and she regrets her words. Like thorns pricking her fingers or nails digging into her flesh. There is pain and remorse but there is duty and responsibilities.

She wasn't afraid to die. She was afraid of what she would leave behind. She was afraid that if she held him, she wouldn't want to let go.

“Achilles,” the queen looks ahead “ They need you right now. The people , the kingdom. Do not waste your tears on me.”

“I love you.” The words are louder and clearer echoing softly. There are no staggering waves of confrontation . She wondered if it killed him to say it out aloud. She remembers repeating the same words to him over and over again. But they were 10 then and he called her a fool. He reminded her who she was and who he was. They both were fools.

“ I know.” The queen leaves him behind.

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

As she walks across the shining marble hallways of a castle she won't ever enter again, she feels empty. The slow blue light draping across her hair, her armour tightened, her sword replaced, there is a power that flows through her. The blue light flickers between her fingers. Slow and light waiting to destroy everything.

And as the tall , heavy ivory doors of the castle push open, she smells the death that approaches. She hears the scream of her name , echoing in the empty hallway a little distance away followed by quick footsteps. It was her brother , the boy with the huge wondrous eyes and cheerful laugh.

“Prepare for coronation Edmund.” She orders the General.

“Your highness-”

“This is an order!” The queen proclaims looking past the crowd of fighters left.

He bows , tears staining his ashen face.

“Two days from today you will have a new King.”

They bow.

“Also do me a favour Edmund, don't let him see this . Lock him up for all I care but don’t let him watch me die.” The older man drenched in war responded with his gleaming eyes. The prince was ordered to be locked up right away.

There are screams and shuffles of resistance heard. Her brother shouts her name over and over again, trying to tackle the soldiers.

“Close the gates as I leave. Everyone stays inside.” The man confirms.

“Thank you. For everything.” She pats his shoulder. The older man watches the tall girl with a pale face. “Your Highness.” They bow down.

If God is who saves you then their queen was their God.

She had twenty full moons to 24.

24 was her favourite number. Sometimes what you need the most are things you could never have.

The blue flames rise slowly , seeping into her skin.

She was alone in the barren land. This isn't a curse for sure. To die for what you love, it never was a curse. As the blue slowly dripped into her blood, she knew she was a grenade. A ticking a bomb that would kill them all.

The castle was so far away. She wondered if Achilles would ever speak of her to his children . tell them about the queen whose hair would sparkle blue fire. About the queen who tried too hard to not love.

She yields her sword like a feather in the wind and the blue bursts into the sky, the land burns in blue fire. There are screams of agony and the land mourns behind.

She saves the day and never herself.

Achilles had lied, his favourite was blue but as the land burned blue and indigo , he hated it so much.

He always loved green.

[emma-nation]

Within You - Bloodbound AU - Chapter 10

Summary: One year after defeating Gaius, the gang has finally found peace… Until a tragic incident awakens the ultimate and most dangerous threat they ever faced.

Genre: Angst/Adventure/Romance

Rating: T - Warning for violence and language

Notes:

- Sequel to the fics For You, In The Daylight and Without You. You can read all of them here.

- This chapter is my baby and I’m really proud of it. I hope you like it too!

- I probably won’t be around for the next few days (for BB finale included), so please forgive me if I take too long to post Chapter 11.

- My fellow writers: stay home writing your awesome fics.

- Dear readers: stay home reading and leaving your lovely reviews. We love you. Stay safe!

Tag List: @supersphynxsworld​, @lightning-fury​, @spacecarrousel​, @tigerbryn11, @gavryllo​, @annabellewerecorgi​, @whoinvitedalx​, @sheyah​, @imnotdonewiththeelementalists​, @scaryqueenbee, @bigmemesplz, @la-guerra-69, @kamilahsayeed-owns-me​, @morvengarde​, @tephy24​, @iam-the-fuckin-queen​, @voltos9, @scorpichoices​, @leavemeandmyshipsalone​, @jen825​, @andreear17​, @justejuste727​, @aureliaxj, @graceschoices​, @mrskamilxh​, @msuhailey, @zoe6111​, @noodledragon22​, @tigerbryn11, @shanuuh​​, @ilovetaylorswiftforever7​​, @ilovekamilahsayeed​​, @allaboutchoices​​  , @fal-carrington​​  , @scarlet-letter-a0114, @trouble-with-the-curve​​  

Kamilah

In her office, Kamilah tried one last time to dial her brother’s number. Voice mail again. She rolled her eyes.

“Until when are you going to ignore me?” She sighed.

She remembered their last conversation, a few days earlier. It was late night, he knocked her penthouse’s door repeatedly. When Kamilah opened it, Lysimachus was pale as a ghost. His heart was racing inside his chest and his breath shallow and quick, indicating he was in great distress.

“It’s her, Kamilah,” he told, when she forced him to sit down and calm himself. “Rheya’s the First.”

“Brother, she just left my place,” she argued. “I invited her for dinner. I tested her through the day. There’s no evidence…”

“She confessed, Kamilah! Right in my face. She’s not who you think she is, okay? She set up that whole situation with Priya. She threatened to kill Katherine… and me!”

Kamilah sat down and looked deeply into his brother eyes. They never lied to each other. And he was scared, truly scared. In truth, she had never seen Lysimachus so frightened before.

“Brother, I…” she grabbed his hand, unsure of what to say to comfort him. Unsure of what to think. “I’m so confused.”

“Why don’t you believe me?” He seemed hurt. Truly hurt. And especially obsessed to find a manner to defeat the First Vampire.

In the next morning, Adrian called her. An emergency. A vial containing a blood sample from the Tree Of Eternal Life had disappeared from the laboratory. They searched all over the city, in every place it could be. They conducted searches at Priya’s mansion and club, Lester’s businesses and even among their own Clan members. There was no sign of the blood.

Until Kamilah found it by accident, inside the secret weapon storage in her brother’s apartment. Lysimachus swore, once again, that it was Rheya’s doing. But all evidence lead to him. His old card was used to access the safest areas in the laboratory. The employees also remembered seeing him there during the night. The footage from the security cameras had been purposely erased. Everything pointed to one direction, he planned to ingest the blood to become more powerful.

An emergency voting decided it would be better if he was temporarily out of The Council.

“I know you’re going through a lot of stress,” Kamilah told him. “I’m not saying I don’t believe you, but I’m also not saying I am. Just, stay in New Orleans for a few days. Clear your mind a bit.”

“Not even you… my fucking twin sister!” Lysimachus punched a hole in the wall. “You’ll all regret what you’re doing, and especially who you’re trusting. She’s manipulating each one of you!”

Coming back to reality, somebody was waiting for her at the door. Rheya. All those days, Kamilah was monitoring her closely. There wasn’t a single part of her that indicated danger.

“Kamilah?” She asked. “Is everything okay?”

“Absolutely,” Kamilah answered. “Personal issues. And you? Anything I can help with?”

“Actually, I’ve seen something that concerned me. I’ve been receiving threats and I believe they’re coming from the Order Of Dawn. I think they could be coming for me.”

She showed Kamilah some strange messages she received and pictures she took of strangers observing her out of the window.

“Don’t worry,” she assured. “We’ll investigate and grant you some protection.”

“Really?” Her eyes filled with tears and she started to cry. “Sometimes I think it’d be better if I returned to Europe. I never wanted to cause you trouble.”

“Rheya, no…”

Kamilah felt extremely bad for her. She quickly called Adrian and some of her Clan members to patrol the city and make sure no Order soldiers were walking around New York.

———-

Lysimachus

Angry, Lysimachus trained alone with a punching bag in his apartment in New Orleans. As soon as he arrived, Garrus checked his mind. Rheya’s presence was beginning to take over the place. With his Fae magic, he was able to remove it. But it was too late, everyone at The Council was convinced he was guilty.

He had to find a manner to stop Rheya by himself. She should have at least one weakness. She wasn’t invincible. Nothing could be. In nature, everything had a balance. An opposite.

“Wow,” a female voice said behind him, “someone’s mad.”

“Katherine,” he turned around, wiping off the sweat from his face with a towel. “Do you know how to kill a bitch?”

“Stake her. Or set her on fire. Assuming you’re talking about the Queen Bitch, Priya Lacroix.”

“Not actually. I’m talking about the First Vampire.”

“Is she truly real?” Her eyes went wide in surprise.

“Why do you think I’m back here?” Lysimachus told. “She caused that situation with Priya and found a manner to put everyone against me, when I discovered her identity.”

“Oh boy, you’re in serious trouble.”

“I know.”

After he showered, they walked around the streets of New Orleans while he informed her about the whole story. Since the Tree Of Eternal Life, the creation of Gaius and Xenocrates to the First Vampire’s return, using of Amy’s death.

“Why Amy?” Katherine wanted to know.

“According to this creepy British cult, she’s her descendant,” Lysimachus told. “And also a Bloodkeeper. What in my opinion, is the major sign of their connection. Their powers seem to be very similar.”

“Have you told all of that to your sister?”

He let out a chuckle.

“Who says she believes me? If Rheya asks her company, she’d probably give her everything in a second. She trusts her with her eyes closed.”

They stopped by the Graveyard Shift for a drink. Nik and Cal joined them and became part of the conversation. None of them had any ideas of what in this world could kill a legendary vampire.

“What do you think her plans are?” Nik asked. “She seems harmless so far.”

“She’s playing cautiously,” Lysimachus told. “Slowly involving and seducing everyone into her game. Soon they will bend to her will or meet a terrible fate. But her main interest… I think she wants Amy. For some purpose.”

“If she’s truly a queen,” Cal commented. “Amy would be her princess. Isn’t it obvious? She wants to share her legacy.”

“A legacy of blood and destruction,” Katherine added. “After that, she’ll probably eradicate the human kind.”

They all stared at each other in silence. None of them had a suggestion that could help.

“Let’s drink while we still can,” Nik suggested.

After he order at the bar, Ivy approached the table bringing their drinks and heard the conversation.

“Well well, a conversation about a legendary bloody creature. My favorite subject.”

“It wouldn’t be, if you met her,” Lysimachus showed them a picture of Rheya on his phone. “Ladies and gentlemen, the real face of evil. Rheya Apostolous.”

“Legendary. Bloody. And hot,” Ivy grinned.

“No wonder why your friends are getting into her so easily,” Cal joked.

“Come on, guys. Yes, she’s gorgeous. But she want all of us dead or kissing her feet. Would you mind helping me to come up with a plan? Something that could end her for good? There must be something. A balance nature created to stop her.”

Ivy was pensive for a moment before speaking:

“Meet me at the library tonight. I think I’ve got something we can do.”

“Does it involve the dead?” Lysimachus rolled his eyes, wondering how many ghosts he’d have to capture. “Or necromancy of any sorts?”

“Yes. I was thinking about… a Ouija board. But better.”

“Here we go again,” Katherine looked at him and sighed.

———-

Amy

As a form to protect Rheya, Kamilah requested Amy to follow her to all places. She was more than glad to help, after all she and the Greek vampire had an immense connection.

“So, Amy. How is it going with your psychic powers?” Rheya asked while they were working out together at the private gym in her building.

“I feel great,” she smiled. “Everyday I gain more and more control over them.”

“You not only can enter people’s minds, but you can make them actually experience the memories, is that correct?”

Rheya’s expression suddenly changed. She stopped with her exercises, looking sad, nostalgic.

“Yes. What’s wrong?” Confused, Amy stopped too. She lead Rheya to the nearest bench.

“Would you mind… showing me my family again? It’s been so long. Time is cruel. It has erased my husband’s voice from my memories or the scent of my little daughter’s hair. I miss them everyday and… I can’t barely remember their faces.”

“Of course.”

Amy grabbed her hands, focusing on the depths of her mind. Suddenly she could see both of them standing in an ancient throne room, where Rheya was in company of a man and a little girl.

“At least now I have the evening free to have dinner with you and Iola,” she smiled. “My two loves.”

“Mama, I want to see your fangs again!” Iola asked.

“They’re nothing special…“

“They are! I want fangs like you, Mama!”

“My darling… No, Iola. These are just for me, do you understand?”

Watching the scene, Amy couldn’t avoid feeling emotional. Tears formed in the corners of her eyes. For some reason she felt attached to those people. Maybe because of the tragedy she knew that would later separate them. Or even because it made her think of her own family.

When they returned, Rheya’s eyes were teary but she had a smile on her face.

“Thank you so much, Amy,” she hugged her tightly. “It was so good to see my Iola again. Actually… you remind me a lot of her.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, since young age she was exactly like you. Adventurous, fierce and she had a great sense of humor.”

At the same time Amy felt sadness hearing those words, it also caused her unexplainable joy.

“I’m sorry she was taken from you,” Amy lamented.

“Don’t be,” Rheya touched her cheek fondly. “Sometimes life takes something away from you… but it grants you something else in return. Sooner or later.”

Amy went home and showered, but the scene she experienced with Rheya wouldn’t leave her thoughts. Especially her daughter. They seemed to be so close, so affectionate to each other.

That vision triggered inside Amy an intense desire of having a family on her own too. She imagined having a daughter with Kamilah. She’d give her little girl everything her mother didn’t provide her while growing up. She not only would be her parent, but her best friend. They’d share good memories and start adventures together.

She texted Kamilah, asking her to go home as soon as possible. After lunch she was impatiently waiting for her wife. As Amy sat down on the couch, their kitten, Beruthiel, quickly jumped on her lap.

In the first days, Kamilah was reluctant about getting attached to their new pet, considering how short their life-span could be compared to theirs. Now, everyday she’d come home with a new gift for Beruthiel. She was literally treating her like a princess.

They could form a beautiful little family. She, Kamilah, their cat and a baby.

“Hey,” her wife entered the penthouse, “is everything okay? You said you needed to see me.”

“Yes,” Amy wrapped her arms around Kamilah’s neck. “I’ve scheduled a visit to Raines Corporation. You know, only to check how his research is progressing.”

“Oh, what research?”

“The one we can have a baby.”

“Only to check, huh?” Kamilah’s raised eyebrow suggested she already knew what Amy had in mind.

“And get informed on how it would work.”

“Amy…” Kamilah sighed. “I’m okay with adopting a cat but… we’re not in a good moment to consider having children.”

“Why?” Amy wanted to know. “We’re married, with a stable life, I’ve got perfect control of my powers. I see no reason to postpone it.”

“She’s out there. The First Vampire.”

“Kamilah, please… I even stopped having those creepy visions. She’s gone for good.”

“She’s not,” Kamilah’s expression was serious and certain. “I sensed her presence the other day. She could be the one who manipulated Priya’s mind and yours. And besides, there’s also the possibility the Order soldiers could be out there, getting ready to strike.”

“So…” Amy threw herself on the couch, biting her lower lip. “Didn’t you have to discuss this Order issues with Adrian? I could come with you.”

Kamilah stared at her in silence again. Her face suggested she wasn’t thrilled about the idea.

“It’s not the right moment, Amy. It’s not like we’re buying a new video game, it’s a life we’re talking about. I’m not bringing a child to this world, knowing they could be in danger.”

“It will never be good moment right? I mean, you said countless times you never wanted to be a mother and that you can’t stand children.”

Amy stood up from the couch, storming to the front door. She knew it was only another excuse. Kamilah would never give her what she wanted the most. She felt extremely upset and frustrated.

“Amy…” Kamilah interrupted her. “Can we talk about this?”

“No,” she responded, coldly and ironic. “It’s not the right moment.”

Alone, she took her car and drove directly to Raines Corporation. If Kamilah didn’t want to be part of this decision, she’d do it by herself. And in the end, if she still couldn’t accept it… maybe she didn’t love her as much as she thought.

———-

Lysimachus

After midnight, Lysimachus and Katherine followed to Ivy’s library. Trusting her was never the smartest or safest idea, but it was the only option he had at the moment.

The library was completely dark, until the very end of the building, where Ivy had prepared a magical seal on the floor, surrounded by candles.

“For heaven’s sake, what is that?” Katherine asked. “Please tell me you’re not planning to take him to the Realm of Death.”

“I considered it,” Ivy said. “But it was too risky, especially because he’s… biologically dead? So I decided to bring the dead to our world instead.”

“Wait,” Lysimachus interrupted. “Who are you planning to summon from the dead?

“The Two Sons. Xenocrates and Gaius.”

Only that name alone brought shivers to Lysimachus body. He hated that man with every fiber of his body being. If one thing he was sure, was that he never wanted to see Gaius again. Not even in spirit.

“Bring Xenocrates. Let Gaius trapped in hell, where it’s his place.”

“Okay, I’ll need to perform a ritual. Mind giving me some privacy?”

“Of course.”

Lysimachus walked to an armchair where he sat down. Katherine followed him. He buried his head in his hands, wondering what could even happen if that ritual went wrong and for some reason Gaius escaped the Realm Of Death and returned to life. By the side of his beloved Goddess, they’d rule the world, exterminating the human kind.

“Hey,” Katherine touched his shoulder, “what’s wrong? You’re shaking.”

“Gaius,” he confessed. “Only the mention of his name it… it drives me crazy. Have you ever hated someone so badly it consumes you, changes you?”

“Yeah, not someone. Something. A monster.”

“He Turned me, against my will. Besides keeping me separated from my sister from centuries. I can help thinking everything he caused in her life was a revenge against me. Even if he’s dead… the part of me he took away is never returning.”

“I can relate. That monster… it took the most precious thing I’ve ever had. And I will never be the same again. Even if I try. Part of me also died that day.”

“Katherine…” Lysimachus looked into her eyes. For the first time she looked open, vulnerable. “You never told me…”

“I usually don’t,” Katherine shrugged, fighting off her emotions. “I think I’m really starting to trust you.”

“Well, that’s a good thing.”

“Not for me.”

They both shared a laugh, when Ivy’s voice called them back. It was time to summon Xenocrates’ spirit. Ivy was voicing some words in an ancient language when the flames from the candles exploded and intensified, almost blinding them with the light.

As Lysimachus opened his eyes again, Xenocrates’ form was standing in the middle of the seal.

“What did you call me here for?” He snarled. "A man can’t even be dead, without being bothered by abominations like you?“

"We need answers,” Lysimachus approached. “About Rheya. You were her First Son, you must know how to end her for good.”

“And why do you think I’d help you? Especially, when you were all responsible for setting her free.”

“They didn’t,” Katherine intervened. “They didn’t set her free. They were only studying the blood, for good purposes.”

“It had nothing to do with the blood. It was… something else.”

“What was it?” Lysimachus asked, intrigued. “We didn’t know. And now, she has started to cause trouble. I need to stop her before the damage spreads.”

“I don’t know what brought Rheya back, otherwise I’d have prevented it,” Xenocrates told. “But if you want to stop her you’ll need to go after her husband, Demetrius. His blood is the only thing that can stop her.”

“Isn’t he dead?”

“Sort of. Rheya attempted to Turn him when he was murdered but it was too late. Her blood transformed him into something dark, without a conscience. A monster.”

“The First Feral,” Katherine concluded.

“His presence brought death to everything around him, including Rheya herself,” Xenocrates continued. “She was weakened by his darkness. So she sent him away.”

“And where is he now?” Lysimachus wanted to know.

“In the Island of Death, somewhere in South Pacific.”

“I’ll find him.”

“You will,” Xenocrates let out a sarcastic laugh. “But you won’t make it back home. The Island will drain all your life before you even get to him.”

“So what do I have to do?”

“My time here is over.”

“No! Wait!”

A strong wind filled the room, lighting off all the candles and the First Son disappeared.

“So what do we do now?” Katherine wondered. “How will we get to the Island?”

“I don’t know,” Lysimachus sighed, frustrated. “He said it drains the life of any living being that approaches it.”

“But he didn’t say anything about a undead being, did he?” Ivy suggested.

———-

Kamilah

In the beginning of the night, Kamilah went to Raines Corporation to meet Adrian and find out if he had any news about a possible invasion of the Order Of Dawn in New York. Amy wasn’t picking up her calls, but she found out she was at the Shadow Den with Lily. Apparently they invited Rheya for a girl’s night.

“Please, tell me she didn’t convince you to impregnate her,” Kamilah took a sip of the whiskey Adrian served her. “I know her, Adrian. She does that puppy dog eyes that make you unable to say no.”

“She didn’t,” Adrian let out a small laugh. “I showed her the research, but explained it’s still a work in progress. And I’d need your DNA too.”

“Good. How would it work anyways?”

“It’s a serum. First, you both must sign a contract. I’ll mix Amy’s DNA to yours and add the blood from the Tree. The three elements together will generate a new life. A new being.”

“Just like that?”

“Not really,” Adrian explained. “After I inject it on Amy’s body or yours, you will have to… conceive the baby, if you know what I mean. Like a regular pregnancy.”

“I see.”

Kamilah swallowed the entire glass of whiskey in one sip, trying to get rid of the stress the thought of being a mother caused her.

“What’s the deal, Kamilah?” Adrian asked, noticing her silence.

“I’m not ready, Adrian,” Kamilah sighed and confessed. “And I don’t think I’ll ever be! I’m 2065 years old. I’ve killed people and burned cities to the ground. How can I become a mother? How am I supposed to raise a child?”

“We’re never ready, but when the moment comes, it’s just magical. You’ll learn to be a mom, Kamilah. Together with Amy.”

She noticed how distant and nostalgic Adrian looked after that talk. It probably reminded him of his son, Charles.

“We’ve adopted a cat recently,” Kamilah changed the subject. “Her name is…”

She couldn’t get used to that name. Something Amy and Lily picked out from one of their geeky obsessions.

“Beruthiel. I heard about her,” a smile returned to Adrian’s face. “I was also told you’ve been using your penthouse security system to observe her when you’re absent. And that you’ve bought her like 10 different collars in a week.”

She only rolled her eyes in response and walked to the window. Kamilah started remembering Amy’s behavior that afternoon. ‘No. It’s not the right moment’. Those words were said with the same coldness and rage as when she was under the First Vampire’s influence, before her Turning. She was about to express her concerns about her dark presence inhabiting Amy’s body, when the emergency alarm of Raines Corporartion started echoing through the entire building.

“What is that?” Kamilah asked, confused.

“I don’t know,” Adrian ran to his computer. “But it doesn’t sound good.”

From the security cameras, they observed as a small group dressed in white marched into the building, inspecting every corner. Searching for something specific. Their clothes and weapons had a military look, like they were soldiers of some kind. Kamilah recognized immediately who they were.

“The Order Of Dawn,” she concluded. “What do we do?”

“I don’t know,” Adrian was completely enraged. “But I won’t be standing here and watch them kill my employees.”

Kamilah followed him outside the office, with her daggers in hand. The Order Of Dawn was known for their skilled and ruthless hunters, who would kill everyone that stood in the way of their mission, humans or vampires.

“They’re at the labs,” Adrian whispered, watching the security cameras from his cell phone. “They’re… torturing them.”

Kamilah glanced at the screen, observing the soldiers holding a blade against one of the scientists’ neck. Adrian hands were shaking in anger. His eyes were dark and distant. She knew it was useless to try to calm him down at this stage.

“Look,” Kamilah pointed. “Two of them are guarding the main hall. We can ambush them and steal their outfits. It’ll make it easier for us to get the rest of them.”

“Good plan.”

They followed to the main hall through the emergency staircase, avoiding to make any noise. Arriving at the company’s entrance, they waited for the right moment to strike. Moving silent and stealth, Kamilah took down one guard while Adrian took the other.

After wearing their uniforms, Adrian checked the cameras one last time. They weren’t in a large group, only 7 soldiers, he counted. He and Kamilah proceeded with their plan, entering the laboratories disguised as members of the Order Of Dawn.

“What are you two doing here?” One of them asked, as he saw them. “You were supposed to guard the door. Raines could be arriving at any minute.”

“He won’t, Kamilah told, approaching the group, ready to draw her daggers.

"How can you be so sure?!”

“Because…” Adrian grabbed the soldier’s neck, breaking it instantly. “He’s right here.”

The remaining soldiers pulled their weapons and circled them.

“There’s six now,” Kamilah looked at Adrian. “Three for each?”

He nodded in agreement.

Kamilah’s soldiers attacked her with their UV flashlights. She looked at them for a second, before rolling her eyes.

“It seems like you haven’t received the latest updates,” she threw one of her daggers right into a soldier’s chest. “UV light doesn’t do a damn thing on me!”

Using her advanced speed, Kamilah dodged their crossbows and retrieved back her dagger. From behind, she stabbed both of them at the same time. She looked at Adrian, holding in his hands the hearts of two of his soldiers, while chasing the last of them. Kamilah streaked in his direction, daggers in hands, going straight for his neck.

“It’s over,” she said as he dropped dead on the floor.

After checking his employees, Adrian offered Kamilah drank some stored blood to recover strength and heal any minor injuries.

Kamilah’s cell phone started ringing. It was Priya.

“I know you hate me. But sending the Order Of Dawn to my club was a slut move, Kamilah!”

“What? Are they in there too?” She shared a concerned look with Adrian.

“Of course…” by the sound, Priya stopped to shoot the soldiers with a gun. “Otherwise, why would I even call you? ”

“I… I’ll send some reinforcement.”

“Those were one of my favorite shoes!” The fashion designer yelled. Panicked screams were heard in the background.

“Priya?!”

“There’s no need, I think I killed all of them. Wait…” she fired the gun again. “Yes, now I did.”

Adrian was also on his phone. The Order also attacked Lester’s business. With the help of his Clan, he managed to get rid of them.

“Leave one of them alive,” Adrian ordered. “Bring him for an interrogation tomorrow.”

He hung up. Both of their phones buzzed at the same time with texts from several vampires of Jax’s clan. The Shadow Den was under attack, by the largest group of soldiers seem in New York so far.

“Oh no.”

“We have to go,” Kamilah rushed, headed to her car. “Amy is in danger.”

———-

Amy

“Another fight?!” Lily questioned, while Amy finished putting on some make-up. Rheya would arrive soon and they’d introduce her to the life in the Shadow Den. “And because you want to have children?!”

“Yes,” Amy answered. “I just feel ready for the next step. I want to start a family with Kamilah.”

“Amy, I’m sorry but it doesn’t sound like you. I mean, you guys have been married for only a year. A lot can change.”

“What are you suggesting? Nothing is changing between us.”

“You’re a vampire now,” Lily told. “There’s so much you may want to experience. You’ll have the eternity to be a mother.”

“Being married to Kamilah, I’ve already experienced a lot,” Amy argued. “We’ve traveled to so many places, she introduced me to a lot of new things, we’ve grown up as couple… it seems like the right moment.”

“Well, that’s your decision to make. But make sure you’re not using it only to mask your past traumas.”

Amy did have a family-related trauma. She always felt abandoned, rejected by her mom. Ofter she’d seek for affection in her friend’s families. The conflicts between them only got worse when she became a teenager. In many occasions, she made her mom cry. Which was enough for her to decided the should follow different paths.

Now she had built her own life away from her hometown. She had a great job, a loving wife and she finally got answers about her mother’s behavior and her origins. In truth, she was starting to understand and even forgive her.

Having a baby with Kamilah had little to do with that. Part of her didn’t want children before because she wasn’t sure she’d be able to be a good mother, based on her own experiences. Now she wanted to break that cycle. She wanted to fix things with her mom, and at the same time, have the motherhood experience herself.

“Hello,” for some reason Rheya was already standing in the living room. “You didn’t hear me knocking, the door was opened so I entered. I hope I didn’t interrupt anything.”

“Not at all!” Amy smiled, dismissing her thoughts. “We were waiting for you. By the way, that’s Lily. My best friend.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” Lily extended her hand. “Very nice.”

“It’s my pleasure, darling. Amy talks about you all the time.”

Amy checked her watch. It was almost time for Liv’s new show to start. Both of her friends had engaged in a conversation. Lily seemed to be nervous around Rheya, panicking and stuttering. She shook her head in denial.

“Hey, you two,” she called. “Let’s go!”

First, they gave Rheya a tour of the Shadow Den. She was impressed by the place, checking all the stores and attractions the community had to offer.

“This place is amazing. A mass of vampires, rejected by The Council, build all of this? Without any support?”

“They did,” Lily told. “We made some improvements and redesigned after we were recognized as a Clan by The Council.”

“And there…” Amy pointed to the male vampire coming in their direction, “is the man behind most of it, Jax Matsuo.”

“Hey,” Jax joined them, briefly nodding at Rheya. “What are you girls up to?”

“We’re headed to Liv’s new show, but before we’re showing Rheya around.”

“Rheya, huh? I remember seeing you at the Tribunal. You saved Priya’s ass.”

“Jax,” Rheya looked deeply into his eyes and grabbed one of his hands. “Your bravery, your strength is like no other. Building this place, protecting your people, fighting for your rights… it’s inspiring. You have my admiration.”

“Whoa,” Jax’s cheeks turned a little pink. “Thank you, but I had help of my Clan members. We were all part of this.”

“I… I…” Lily made some effort to insert herself in the conversation. “I created the Fangbook. A social network for vampires.”

Rheya grinned and grabbed her hand too.

“This is also amazing, darling. An online gathering of all vampires in the world. Your knowledge can serve for greater purposes. You can achieve great things. Never doubt your potential.”

“T-Thank you.”

Amy laughed and patted her best friend’s shoulder.

Together they followed to Liv’s cabaret, finding their reserved seats in the front row. That was the debut of a show she long planned, back when she still a mortal. She looked unusually happy that night.

“This place is crowded,” Amy told Jax, before the lights went out.

“I know, right?” He said. “It’s good to finally see a smile on her face.”

A dancing number started on the stage, Amy was very focused. The music was hypnotizing. She and Lily started to move their bodies in sync to the rhythm.

“Come on, Jax,” Amy shouted. “Join us.”

“In a moment,” he looked serious at his cell phone screen. “There’s something wrong in the tunnels.”

Jax didn’t have any time to leave, as soon as he got up a group of soldiers dressed in white burst through the doors. Amy recognized them from Greece.

“The Order Of Dawn.”

“Everyone take cover!” Jax yelled, as they started to aim and shoot their crossbows at the vampires in the cabaret.

Amy stood frozen in the middle of the commotion, her eyes registering the scene all around her. Vampires attempted to run, or even to protect themselves, only to suffer cruel and painful deaths. There was a lot of screaming and crying, while the Order Of Dawn chanted:

”The Order does not yield. The Order does not sleep. The Order shows no mercy… and leaves no survivors.”

She tried to locate Rheya and Lily but they were nowhere to be seen. A tightness on her chest started to suffocate her.

“Amy!” Jax pulled her out of the way, to prevent an attack with UV light. Considering the desperation of the moment, he probably had forgotten it didn’t affect her.

“Jax,” she returned to her conscience. However, when she looked at the male vampire on the ground he wasn’t moving. His chest had a big burning wound. Tears stated to fill her eyes as she touched it. No vampire would survive an injury of that extent. “Jax, please…”

“Die,” an Order soldier appeared in front of her, with a crossbow aimed to her chest. She fired. Amy stopped the stake midway with her psychic powers.

Looking around, she could see piles of ash all around the club, along with severely hurt vampires, struggling to stay alive. Rage started to consume her. She felt her eyes burning in pure anger.

With a grin on her face, she sent the stake back in the soldier’s direction. Hitting her right in the middle of her eyes.

“What is that?” A group of soldiers came in her direction, as their member’s lifeless body fell on the ground.

Amy could feel their hearts beating. The blood flowing inside their veins. They had no idea what she could do. They had no idea of what she could become. She had the urge to kill them. All of them. She focused, gathering all her power.

“Kill her,” their leader ordered. She jerked her hand, sending all of them flying. The heavy impact against the wall crushed every bone inside their fragile human bodies.

More soldiers came in her direction. She leaped forward. With fangs drawn, she went directly to their throats. Her hands also fought, tearing into some soldiers’ chests and ripping off their hearts.

“Monster! Monster!” They started to retreat and runaway scared.

Amy couldn’t let them get away. Not after what they had done. They deserved no second chances. Only death. By the time they reached the door, she appeared in front of them.

“Leave… no… survivors!” She yelled, mocking their chant. Her hands were engulfed by fire and she send blasts in their direction. She stood and watched while it consumed their bodies.

As they silenced, she closed her eyes. She could sense a couple of human heartbeats coming from behind the bar. Taking Jax’s katana, she slowly walked to them. They barely had any time to scream. The blood spraying from their slit throats soaked her skin and her clothes. She fed herself some of it, before going back to Jax unconscious body.

She kneeled right beside him, placing her hands over the wound. And that’s the last thing she did, before collapsing in exhaustion.

[myqueenjudeduarte]

Something Like Trust: Chapter 1

Here it is y’all... the fic you’ve been waiting your whole lives for... a 10k word first chapter of Jurdan BDSM. 

Post-The Wicked King

Tags/Warnings: Slapping (in a sexual context), references to spanking, teasing, orgasm delay, uhh angst and emotional fuckery, BDSM obviously, alcohol, also alcoholism because Cardan is present, kind of exhibitionism, I can’t accurately prepare you guys for this fic so just don’t read it if you aren’t comfortable with BDSM relationships. The later chapters will have a lot more intense stuff so just... be warned. OH also warning for them both being COMPLETELY out of character like honestly y’all this is DISGRACEFUL.

Summary: “I was thinking of an arrangement which would allow you moments of powerlessness. An arrangement in which I would take the control, allowing you to experience the feeling of an utter lack of responsibility, a feeling in which I am in command of all and you have no worries to speak of.”

Word Count: 9,426 I’m sO SORRY

Let me know if you want to be tagged in my fics!

Everyone who knew Jude Duarte came quickly to realize that what she sought, above all else, was power. Control. Influence. That she had long felt powerless, and that she remedied this through a combination of scheming and working to rise to the top.

And rise to the top Jude had.

There were few higher places for an 18-year-old mortal girl to be than by the side of the High King of Elfhame, ruling a kingdom with him. And there were few people more profitable to be close to than the High King himself.

There were times, though, when Jude — though she would never admit it — craved above all else a respite from the power. The control. The influence. Craved, in fact, a moment of return to that place of powerlessness, when the worries of the kingdom had been anyone’s but hers and she was free to rest and roam rather than reign.

And there were moments, now, after nearing 6 months since Jude’s return to Elfhame and eventual semi-reconciliation with Cardan, when Jude imagined herself as powerless once more and still imagined Cardan by her side, not ruling together, but simply being together.

When these thoughts struck Jude she would roughly and with decisiveness shove them to the back of her mind and pretend she had never experienced them. Jude could no more afford a break from her power than she could afford to become emotionally involved with her fellow ruler. These were thoughts she had no choice but to keep to herself, as she did most of her thoughts and all of her feelings.

Until tonight, when Jude was drunk.

Jude was, to be quite transparent, far past drunk. Jude was heavily intoxicated, and, she reasoned, through no fault of her own. She had overheard several subjects of Elfhame debating how, exactly, they were expected to take seriously a queen who was not only mortal, but didn’t even drink. The King, of course, drank his fill — why was the queen so serious all the time? How could she ever expect to fit in with faeries if she wouldn’t even let loose at a revel?

Jude, of course, wanted nothing more than power, and power was a child, born of respect and fear. She rationalized, then, that to fit in in Elfhame more fully would be to earn respect, and with respect, power. She gained from this the idea that she had no choice but to drink.

And drink she did.

Cardan looked on from his throne in bewilderment and something akin to amusement as Jude danced and drank with the people of Elfhame. He wanted nothing more than to join her in her drunken fun, but felt that this was something, strange as it was, she needed to do on her own.

When Cardan was falling asleep on the throne and the sun was beginning to make the day known, Jude finally approached the dais, stumbling and smiling and so, so stunning — at least, that was all Cardan could think of as she draped herself over her throne, positioned beside his.

“Cardan, I danced,” she said. Cardan made a most concerted effort to school his face into seriousness, or at least not to laugh at her. He didn’t want to ruin this.

“Yes, Jude. I watched,” he said in a low voice.

To Cardan’s surprise, he saw a faint blush spread over Jude’s cheeks.

“Did you?” she said, and pushed herself with some difficulty closer to him. “Would you like to watch me further? Perhaps in my chambers, and perhaps wearing less than we are now?” Jude whispered the words, but Cardan was still taken aback. It was rare — unheard of, really — of Jude to be so forward, or forward at all.

Cardan and Jude were no strangers to sleeping together, but Cardan usually initiated it, delivering smirks and pointed remarks until Jude rolled her eyes and almost admitted to having desire of her own. Now, though, Jude was too drunk to care that her want could be used against her as a weakness.

As strongly, though, as Jude’s words and posture affected Cardan, he was loathe to do anything with Jude that she would regret in the morning, or that he would regret as taking advantage of the woman he had begun to admit to himself that he had feelings for.

“I think, my dear Jude, that you have had too much to drink for me to consider your admittedly delightful proposal.”

Jude merely smiled and closed her eyes, swaying slightly. “I love it when you call me dear,” she said softly.

Cardan felt a pressure on his chest, the sensation that his ribs might break and puncture his heart and end his immortal life right here and now.

“And I love that you’ve told me that, but I think I should return you to your chambers before you say anything else you will hate yourself for in the morning.” The words were sad, and so was Cardan as he considered what Jude would likely do to herself for even that small admission.

Jude and Cardan didn’t share chambers, and certainly not for Cardan’s lack of trying. Jude refused to become closer with Cardan than sex and a rare moment of shared silence afterward, than discussing the workings of the kingdom. Cardan had asked — near begged, really — Jude to move in, but she had steadfastly refused to assent.

“Your chambers, today, I think,” said Jude, her voice low. Cardan felt his blood heating despite himself, but pushed the thoughts away — now was not the time to lose himself in his passion for her.

“My chambers, then, but to sleep.”

Jude positively pouted. “You’re no fun. Why are you no fun? I’m supposed to be the no fun one.”

Cardan smiled at that. “Yes, those are our usual roles, aren’t they? But tonight, you’ve had a little too much fun, so I am saddled with the role of the serious.”

Jude continued to pout. “Are you gonna take care of me?” she asked, brightening slightly at the thought.

“For the night,” Cardan said quietly, before standing and offering Jude his hand. “On any other, you would run me through for the barest implication that you needed caring for.”

Jude laughed. “I wouldn’t run you through. You’re Cardan!”

“So I am,” he replied.

“I wouldn’t run Cardan through. I’d miss him.”

Realizing that Jude seemed to have forgotten with whom she was speaking, Cardan led her in silence to his chambers, still mulling over her words. It was nice, at the basest level, to hear that she had no desire to kill him. Even that small mercy took him by surprise. “My ruthless girl,” he thought, and then corrected himself. She was not his girl, after all.

When they arrived in his chambers, Cardan helped Jude into bed before lying down beside her. He may have been unwilling to engage in anything sexual while she was in her present state, but he had no qualms about taking advantage of it to be close to her. The morality of his behavior had improved over the past months ruling with Jude, but he adopted no pretense of being perfect.

To his shocked delight, Jude snuggled close to him, tucking her head against his chest when he rolled toward her. He tentatively placed an arm over her side, and she hummed happily. Jude and Cardan had shared time, shared kisses, shared rule of a kingdom, but they had not shared true intimacy since the night they were married. Until, that is, this moment, a moment Cardan placed quietly into his heart to cherish in the days, weeks, months of cold that were sure to follow this night.

He thought this was the end of the happy moments, that Jude would drift off to sleep and that he would face an angry, hungover mortal the next day, but instead, Jude spoke.

“I know I’ll be too afraid to say this tomorrow,” she whispered. “I’m not so drunk as to forget my own nature.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t—“

“I’m cruel to you anyway, Cardan, wouldn’t you rather hear what I have to say now and face my wrath tomorrow?”

Cardan remained silent.

“Sometimes I don’t want this power,” Jude spoke, slowly, softly. “Sometimes I want to feel powerless again, to feel like the weight of a kingdom doesn’t rest on our shared shoulders. Like we’re kids again, like you’re treating me badly during lessons on warm evenings in the gardens. Or like we’re older, and you’re kinder, and we have time to be away from all of this. Can you imagine if we had the space and time to be powerless, even for a second?”

Jude sighed. “I know it makes no sense,” she said, “I know you think that everything I am seeks power, but there’s something else there, inside me. Don’t forget that there’s something else, ok?”

Her words grew more desperate, and with the desperation, more slurred, as she continued speaking. But Cardan barely noticed her fading — an idea had come to his mind, one he could not release despite its insanity, despite the fact that all would be lost when they woke.

“It makes perfect sense, Jude,” he spoke as she drifted off to sleep. “And I know exactly what you need.”

—

“What is it?” These were the first words Cardan heard upon waking. He had slept until nightfall, they both had, and he could see the rays of the setting sun outside the window, the pink and purple hues of the night-turning sky. For a moment, he didn’t even process the question.

“What?” he asked sleepily, beginning to sit up only to find a hand on his chest pinning him to the bed.

“I asked you what it is,” Jude said, voice nothing more than mildly annoyed despite the harshness of her actions. “What is it that I need?”

“You remember that?”

Jude rolled her eyes. “I may have been mildly intoxicated, but I still remember the morning, Cardan.”

Cardan smiled at what she termed “mild” intoxication. “Do you truly want to know?”

“Yes.” Her voice was solemn now, almost nervous, as if she could sense that his answer would not be an easy one.

It wouldn’t.

Cardan’s smile turned to a smirk as he looked up at her, hair and clothes rumpled from sleep, eyes wide with anticipation. She was beautiful, and he was glad to be telling her this, despite how she would surely react.

“I was thinking, my Jude, of an arrangement of sorts.”

“What kind of—“

“Let me finish, Jude.”

She was quiet.

“I was thinking of an arrangement which would allow you moments of powerlessness. An arrangement in which I would take the control, allowing you to experience the feeling of an utter lack of responsibility, a feeling in which I am in command of all and you have no worries to speak of.”

“You would take charge of the kingdom?”

“I would take charge of you, Jude.”

There was silence for several moments, utter, complete silence as Jude studied him. He expected at any second for her to yell, hurt him, get up and leave, or in some other way snap. It would be worth it. But, to his surprise, she merely said,

“Explain.”

And explain he did.

“I would take charge of you — specifically of your body, and specifically sexually, but your mind would follow, I expect. My every command you would follow, or risk punishment. This could be situational or constant, depending on your level of comfort. That means that we could either have assigned stretches under which these conditions are met — you obey me, I care for you, and the focus is on the sexual — and the rest of the time we would be the same Jude and Cardan we are now, bickering and never once obeying the other, unless forced to do so” (this he said with a pointed look, reminding Jude of their past arrangement). “Alternatively, we could have a constant arrangement, one in which you always obey my commands or you are punished. In this way, you could both have power and powerlessness simultaneously, depending on the situation. Both of these, I assume, sound far outside your comfort, but Jude, I implore you to at least consider what I suggest, even if you do no more. Consider what it would mean for you.” With this last desperate plea, Cardan fell silent, awaiting the stormy anger he expected from Jude. This time, his expectations were met.

“Do you think,” she said in the deadly calm he had learned to fear in their time together, “that I trust you, Cardan?”

“No, but I think that you need to.”

“For this? For your deranged sex idea?”

“For this, for our ruling together, for our marriage, for your health.”

“Our marriage has been a sham since you exiled me,” she spat, bringing up wounds Cardan had never been so bold as to think healed.

“I should like it not to be.”

There was a moment of silence before Jude spoke once more.

“What kind of punishments?”

Cardan felt acutely the whiplash of this conversation.

“Some physical, some lack of privileges, depending on the intensity of the relationship. Some pleasant and playful and some less so.”

“Would you ever hit me?”

“Only with your explicit permission and desire.”

“Hit me. I desire it.”

Concentrating on the effort not to let his shock and his own desire show on his face, Cardan brought a hand up from where it had rested on the bed, reached to where Jude still hovered over him, and slapped her thigh, hard. She still wore her dress from the revel of the night before, allowing his hand to connect with bare skin.

Jude gasped in surprise, then rolled onto her back beside him.

“And what if I did obey?” was her next question, asked tentatively.

“I would reward you.”

“What kind of rewards?”

“Would you like me to demonstrate those, as well?”

Jude’s silence served as assent, and Cardan rolled onto his elbow to hover over Jude’s frame.

“I might start like this,” he said, trailing his hand across the high neckline of Jude’s dress, over her throat.

“And move lower,” he added, running his hand over her chest to cup her breast gently. “Like this.”

Jude bit her lip, rubbed her missing fingertip against her thumb, the tell-tale sign of her nervousness. Cardan continued.

“I might tease you a bit, even when you had been good, because the important aspect of this is that you are subject to my desires. No matter how good you’ve been, if I want to punish you, I may, and if I want to reward you, I will do so at my leisure.” As he spoke, he grazed his fingertips over her breast, studiously avoiding her nipple. She wasn’t wearing a bra — she must have removed it in her drunken sleep, and he could see the peak of her nipple under the thin fabric of her dress.

When, after several long minutes, he finally brushed her nipple with his knuckle, Jude breathed a sigh of pleasure.

“Here,” Cardan said, pausing his ministrations, “I might give you an order. I might tell you to be quiet, or not to move, or both, and if you break the rules...” he slapped her thigh hard once again. “You might find you rather dislike the results.”

Cardan could see the effect he was having on Jude and pushed forward, wanting nothing more than to convince her that this was what she needed. He had never expected to get this far on a subject he expected her to shut down immediately, and he would not sacrifice the opportunity.

“Next, I might move lower...” he slid his hand down over her stomach, felt the softness there that covered hard muscle.

“Down to here, perhaps,” he said as he reached the junction of her thighs. “And since this is a reward, I would likely not make you wait too terribly long for what you would so desperately, desperately want.”

As Cardan’s hand slipped under Jude’s dress, he felt the wetness between her thighs and knew his words and actions had their desired effect.

“I see that this is already what you desperately, desperately want, my dear Jude?”

Jude’s hand darted out and clasped Cardan’s wrist, pulling it out from under her dress. He could never hope to be stronger than her, so he waited in anticipation for what she would say.

“Yes,” she said breathlessly, and Cardan relaxed slightly. “Alright, Cardan. Let’s try. You have tonight to convince me that this is anything other than a horrible idea.” Here she paused, and he saw a shadow come over her face, knew that whatever she was about to say was hard for her.

“I don’t trust you, Cardan, and maybe I never will—“

“Jude—“

“But,” she said emphatically, “I’m willing to try. To see how it goes. And besides, I suppose that I trust you more than most people in my life, okay? That’s something.”

Cardan felt the familiar chest-crushing feeling as he gazed at her in the wake of that admission, one that would have been small had she been anyone but Jude Duarte.

“Does my time start now?” was all he replied, not wanting to get emotional and ruin this moment.

“I suppose,” she said, feigning a lack of care when Cardan could tell she was still flustered from his actions.

Cardan leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to Jude’s lips. To his continual surprise, she didn’t pull away- instead, she reciprocated, deepening the kiss slightly. This, if nothing else, revealed how aroused she was, and Cardan couldn’t help but smile at her willingness and desperation.

When he finally pulled away, it was because Cardan had business to attend to before they could truly begin the day that might change everything.

“There are a few things we need to discuss, and they happen to be the type of things that are best gone over with paper and pen.” He moved to retrieve both of those items, and to his delight Jude remained still on the bed, awaiting his return. Perhaps, he mused, she would be more obedient during this whole endeavor than he ever expected.

When he returned, Cardan sat cross-legged on the bed as Jude drew a knee up on which to rest her chin.

“The first item we need to discuss is your limits. These are the things I am absolutely, under no circumstances, allowed to do to you or to order you to do. These can be sexual or not, and this list can be edited at any time as you think of more.”

“I don’t...” and here Jude paused, taking a moment to overcome embarrassment over what she was about to say. “I don’t think I know enough about the things we might be doing to know what my limits would be.”

“And that is utterly acceptable,” Cardan said, rushing to reassure her. “They can be anything. For example,” and with this, he ran a hand down the side of her arm, leaving goosebumps in its wake, “you’ve made it abundantly clear that you have no qualms about being slapped. If you did, we would add it to the list. But if it helps you, I can list some things I may do and you can enlighten me as to how you would respond to them.”

Jude nodded, and Cardan steeled himself against his arousal, driven higher by the prospect of listing potential acts, to focus on the task at hand.

“How would you feel,” Cardan asked, “if I made you wait to orgasm for, say, 2 hours as I teased you?”

Cardan could see, feel the change in Jude’s posture as she became more aroused.

“I’m sure I would not feel good about that in the moment,” she replied, eyebrows raised, “but hearing about it, it sounds... appealing.”

“And if I made you wait for a day?”

Jude snorted. “As if you have the time as High King to take an entire day to tease me.”

“Nothing would be stopping me from ordering you to tease yourself when I was otherwise occupied.”

Jude flushed now. Cardan had been trying, to little avail, to help Jude become more comfortable talking about sex. They were doing it, after all, but outside of the act itself when Cardan brought it up Jude often became irate or uncomfortable.

Maybe, Cardan mused, some part of that was to do with the fact that he, as frequently as possible, brought it up loudly and in public.

Still. This conversation was a significant step towards growing Jude’s comfort in the topic, and Cardan planned to milk the opportunity for all he could.

“And if I didn’t have the time?” Jude asked at length, returning to the conversation.

“You might be surprised,” Cardan said, lowering his voice and leaning closer to Jude’s ear, “how easily you can slip out of a meeting and into a closet when the threat of my hand on your beautiful ass looms over you.”

Jude tried to jerk away from Cardan, but he held her chin tightly and pulled her back.

“You forget, I think, that we have already begun. You will not pull away from me, do you understand?”

Jude flushed hotter and grumbled something that resembled, “okay.”

“That was your first and only warning. Back, now, to the limits. Answer my last question.”

“Yes, I think I would accept waiting a day.”

“And a week?”

Jude’s eyes grew wide. “I... would prefer not to, but it isn’t a limit.”

Cardan, alert to the smallest minutiae of Jude’s actions, noticed as she shifted near imperceptibly closer to him. He smiled inwardly. What this small action conveyed to him was that his plan to make Jude desperate for his attentions, both sexual and non, before they even began was beginning to work.

“And if I wanted to brand you?”

“Limit.”

Cardan grinned, having known, of course, that this would be the answer.

“And there, my dear, is an example.”

Jude rolled her eyes. “I’m sorry that I needed to make clear that ‘permanent disfigurement’ is off the table.”

“You need to make everything clear, Jude, to reduce the possibility of my doing something that genuinely distresses you. And,” he said, growing serious, “I will allow it for now, but when we are done with writing and discussions and begin in earnest, I will expect a more respectful tone from you than that.”

“And if I don’t, you’ll punish me?”

Cardan could hear in Jude’s voice that her reply was no form of backtalk, but one of apprehension and excitement.

“Yes, Jude,” Cardan said, leaning closer once more. “I will punish you, and you will not enjoy it.”

“And if I do?”

Cardan frowned. “It is... a complicated line, to answer you with honesty. I want you to enjoy all that we do, because that is the main purpose of all of this. My role, above all else, is to protect and care for you while putting you in positions of vulnerability, and to make sure that the things we do while I am in control serve you well. However, a part of your enjoyment and powerlessness will be the knowledge that when you transgress, you will be corrected, and that the correction will make you want to avoid repeating the offense. So while I want you to enjoy the process, I do not expect you always to enjoy the particular instance of punishment. Confirm whether or not that makes sense to you.” This was Cardan’s attempt to help Jude grow used to following orders, and it succeeded as she obeyed without question on this small matter.

“Yes, it makes sense.”

Cardan saw Jude rub her legs together, almost too lightly to be noticeable, and smiled.

“Growing a bit desperate, are we?”

Jude scowled, then realized herself and schooled her face into neutrality. Cardan smiled wider at this indication that she was beginning to behave.

“Are you trying the teasing thing now? Trying to make me desperate?”

“Oh, Jude. If and when I tease you, I strongly suspect you shall know. No, when we finish this,” and he waved the paper and pen, “I will make sure your desperation is alleviated.”

“Then let’s get back to work.”

“Begging?”

Jude scoffed again, then looked guiltily at Cardan. It would take some time to break her of these habits, and Cardan fully expected to enjoy every moment of doing so.

“You are free to try to make me beg,” she replied, opting for a neutral statement that still conveyed her derisiveness.

Cardan smiled. “I love a challenge,” he retorted, “thought I doubt that it will be one after I have brought you to the appropriate headspace.”

“What does that mean?”

Cardan set down the paper and turned toward her for this section of the explanation.

“Sometimes, during arrangements such as the one we’re forming-“ At this, Jude raised her eyebrows, reminding him that this arrangement was far from settled.

“The one I hope to form,” he corrected himself. “During these arrangements, there is a certain state of mind you can enter. I have done it at the hands of others- it is a most wondrous, delightful feeling, as though everything in the world is taken care of and the person in control can do no wrong. I tell you this in advance of its happening because I want you to know that I in no way am provoking this state in you for my own gain, or so that you will think more highly of me. I do it because I want you to feel that incredible feeling, and to feel that you are safe and cherished. Do you understand?”

Jude nodded, but then a shadow passed over her face, as though thinking of something she would rather not.

“How do you know all of this? Who made you feel that way? Have you made others feel that way before?”

The jealousy present in her tone was uncharacteristic, and Cardan couldn’t help experiencing a rush of pleasure as he heard it.

“I have a good deal of experience with the topic, and a good deal of knowledge in how it can go poorly,” he answered with a sad smile. “There was a time when, in search of that feeling, I would entrust myself to anyone willing to help me. Many of them took advantage of the situation to cause me pain, not that I can say I didn’t often deserve it. But this is my promise to you, Jude - I will cause you pain, but it will never be more than you can tolerate, it will never be emotional pain, if I can prevent it, and it will never be for the reason that I want you to genuinely suffer. If I punish you, it is to correct you, and if I hurt you because I want to, it is for both of our pleasures.”

“But to your other question. Yes, I have made others feel this way, but never one who I... cared for, as I care for you. It will be entirely different. I hope you can believe that.”

“Nicasia?” was all she replied, unwilling, of course, to acknowledge the depth of feeling in his statement.

“Among others.”

Jude nodded, apparently satisfied for now with his answers.

“I think I understand the limits now. I would not like to be permanently disfigured,” she said with a pointed look, “nor would I like to be overly disgusted by anything we should do.”

“Elaborate.” He knew this would be a challenge for Jude, to speak explicitly about her likes and dislikes.

“I would not like... spit,” she said, “if that was even an option. Nor would I appreciate an excess of any fluid to touch me. I would like to remain relatively clean. Is that—“ Jude caught herself about to ask if that was acceptable and stopped there, frowning as it came to her attention that she had already begun to enter a place of asking his approval.

“Yes,” Cardan answered, as if she had finished the question. “Very good. Lie on your back.”

Jude tentatively did as instructed.

Cardan leaned over her, bringing his mouth to her breast and pressing light kisses along its top, still working through the fabric of her dress. His tongue moved lower to circle her nipple before he sucked it into his mouth, hard. Jude gasped in pleasure and Cardan hummed against her tender flesh.

He pulled back, but left a hand lingering on her cheek. “When you do as you are instructed, you are rewarded,” he said lightly, before returning to the paper. Jude tried to sit up with him, but he held up a hand.

“I want you in that position until I indicate otherwise.”

Jude lay back down.

“Good,” said Cardan with a smile. “Now. Any other limits you can think of currently? It is completely understandable if not, and we can add more at any time.”

Jude shook her head.

“Then we will move on to apprehensions. What are you apprehensive about going into this?”

Jude thought for a moment before replying.

“Vulnerability,” she said slowly. “Putting faith in someone other than myself, not that I even have too much of that in myself lately.” She turned her head away after speaking, realizing she had shared more than she meant to.

Cardan reached over to take her hand gently. “Keep going.”

“Being without weapons, without defenses. Being in a situation where I need to be protected. Being in a situation where I can’t protect you.” The apprehensions came out of her in a rush now, to Cardan’s relief.

“I’m also apprehensive that I will be bad at this, that I won’t be able to bring myself to be obedient and that you will quickly tire of trying to correct me.”

“Oh, Jude. I will never tire of correcting you, and you never need worry that you will be too disobedient. You have already shown me, given your actions of tonight alone, that you will be good at this, not that there is even a way you could be bad.”

Jude shot Cardan a quick grateful look before continuing.

“I’m apprehensive that this is going to make me seem weak.”

“To me?”

“To you, to the kingdom. To anyone who knows.”

“No one will know without your express permission, Jude. Besides, who would I tell?” Cardan spoke the words with some bitterness, reminding Jude that he had few people in his life besides her. The thought crossed her mind that she should endeavor to treat him slightly more kindly, as he had her.

“Those are all of my apprehensions for now,” was all she said. “What else do you need to write down?”

“You need two words - one which stops everything we are doing completely, and one which signals me to make sure you are okay before we continue.”

“Nicasia and Locke.” She answered without hesitation.

“Fitting,” Cardan said, amused. “Our ex lovers.” He hurriedly wrote down her answers before continuing.

“What shall you call me?”

“Cardan, perhaps?” she answered sarcastically.

Cardan frowned at her.

“A name which denotes respect, Jude. May I suggest ‘My Lord’ or ‘My King’? I won’t make you go so far as to call me master.”

“My Lord,” Jude replied after a brief moment of consideration.

“Good. For the rest of the night and day, from this moment on, you will address me as ‘My Lord’. You will respond to my questions with answers like ‘Yes, My Lord’ and ‘No, My Lord.’ Is that clear?”

“Yes, My Lord.” Jude said quietly. Cardan leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to her lips.

“Good. That concludes the information I need to gather for now. I will store this sheet safely for future use.”

“You seem quite confident that there will be future use.”

Cardan raised an eyebrow but let the disrespect in her tone slide. “I think you need this, Jude, and I think you will come to realize that by the end of the time you’ve allotted me. Another thing to note is that from this moment forward, I will not take your disrespect quite so lightly.”

Jude nodded once, and Cardan seized her chin in his hand once more.

“Say, ‘yes, My Lord’.”

“Yes, My Lord,” Jude replied, averting her eyes, still unable to believe she had put herself in this position.

Cardan smiled. “So far, you have been fairly obedient, and completed all that I’ve asked of you with a minimum of complaint. Frankly, I’m impressed, and I do plan to reward you.”

Jude shivered.

“But first, I want to address something you said earlier, about my viewing you as weak. Jude, to submit to my control will be the ultimate show of strength. I know what it would take from you, and how bold you will have to be in order to do so. I will never, never think you weak for giving up a small piece of your power. I will see you as all the more powerful for it, do you understand?”

“Yes, My Lord,” she said quietly.

“Good. Then let us begin.” With that, Cardan returned his mouth to Jude’s breast, licking and sucking over the fabric of her dress as his hands inched the bottom upward, baring her upper thighs. He finally pulled back to remove her dress entirely and stayed hovering above her, gazing down at her near-naked form.

“Tell me what you think of your body, Jude.”

Jude blanched, and Cardan could see the panic in her eyes, wondered if he had gone too far. Then, though, she reminded herself of his prior words - that this was strength, power, not weakness and defeat.

“I think it is strong, and serves its purpose, but is out of place among those of the faeries. You are all so... well, thin, and I am not. I have always wished to look as you do, despite knowing I never can.”

Cardan nodded, having suspected exactly this response.

“And would you like to know what I think of your body, Jude?”

“Yes, My Lord.”

“I think your body far surpasses the beauty of that of any faerie I have ever seen. I think there is nothing more attractive to me than your muscles and flesh. I think that the more of you there is for me to touch,” and he touched her, “kiss,” and he kissed her, “and caress the more I will be satisfied. And I think that your body gives you life, and that is the most beautiful thing of all. After the undersea, when you had so little flesh on your bones, I was terrified. I would never want to see you like that again. I am grateful for every day that you have enough to eat, and I count myself lucky to share the bed of someone strong enough to snap my body in a heartbeat.”

Jude laughed at this. “I meant what I said, though. I wouldn’t kill you.”

Cardan put his hand over his chest and said with mock sincerity, “and you have no idea what that means to me,” but they both knew it was far from sarcasm.

“Thank you,” Jude said softly, “my lord, for what you said.”

“I speak only the truth, unlike some,” he replied, touching her face lightly. “Anyway, Jude, would you like me to return to the task at hand?”

“Very much so — my lord.” He heard her stumble, forget herself for a moment, and resolved to push her deeper into the headspace she so desperately needed to enter.

He started by kissing his way down her stomach, running his tongue along the bones of her hips, the line of her pelvis. He nipped the skin of her inner thigh gently, causing her to yelp, and grinned against her.

Finally — finally — he attended to her burning need, pulling her remaining underwear down her legs and situating himself between them. He heard her give a sharp intake of breath as she realized what he was going to do, as she did every time they did this, and smiled once more at the familiarity of the situation.

With one hand, Cardan spread Jude before him, as he pressed his tongue against her folds.

“Spread your legs for me, Jude, dear,” he muttered against her, and she squirmed even as she did as he asked. Demanded.

When she had obeyed, he resumed his actions in earnest, licking and sucking with vigor, trying to bring her to the edge as quickly as possible. He entered her with two fingers so suddenly that she gasped in surprise, and he pulled back to grin up at her and gaze at her flushed cheeks and half-closed eyes.

“Your nipples. Touch them,” he commanded, and she did as instructed, pulling and rolling them between her fingers, moaning lightly at the sensation and more loudly as he curled his fingers inside her, still watching.

“You are stunning,” he said simply, before resuming the work of his mouth against her. He flicked her clit with his tongue, slowly at first, but increased speed with his tongue and fingers until she was on the edge, crying out that she was about to go over it.

He stopped all motions, pulled back, and said, “hands at your sides.”

“I thought this was a reward,” she said, anger flashing in her eyes even as she obeyed.

“It is,” he replied. “The reward is the fact that I’m touching you at all. And I don’t appreciate your attitude. Spread your legs.”

She had snapped them closed in the wake of his motions ceasing, but opened them again now. Cardan pushed them farther apart roughly.

“In the future, know that it is my right to stop touching you at any time, and that you have no leave to contest my decision. I won’t fully punish you now, because this is a first infraction, but I will give you a small reminder of your place.”

With those words, he slapped her directly on the junction between her legs, one of his many rings hitting her clit. While he congratulated himself on his excellent aim, Jude cried out in shock and pain.

“Car— My—“ she sputtered, trying to find something to say that wouldn’t provoke another slap. Cardan merely raised an eyebrow, waiting for her decision.

She stayed silent, biting her lip against the desire to protest and the residual stinging between her legs.

Cardan looked down at her. “Next time, your punishment will not be so easy to bear. And before I forget, there is a rule I want to set for the future- you ask me, rather than tell me, when you are close to orgasm. Do you understand?”

Jude closed her eyes briefly before responding. “Yes, My Lord.”

Cardan could see the struggle in Jude, sense the way she worked to control the impulse to resist him, and found himself impossibly proud.

He lay down beside her and began steadily stroking a finger in circles around her clit, so slowly that there was no risk of her coming from the stimulation. Jude bit her lip and moaned.

“Normally, at a time like this, I would be waiting for you to beg,” Cardan said conversationally, as if discussing the weather in Elfhame. “But, as circumstance has it, begging will do nothing for you here. I plan to let you come—“ with those words, Jude’s wide eyes shot to his, but he continued with a small smile “but not for some time.”

Jude’s face fell, but lacked the spark of anger it had earlier held. Good. That meant she was beginning to accept that she had no choice but to allow Cardan to do what he would with her pleasure.

He continued his gentle ministrations on her clit, listening for small moans and breathy sighs as she wished for more stimulation, for several minutes. Then, without warning, he rose.

“Get dressed,” he ordered.

“Why?” she asked, even as she stood from the bed.

Cardan raised an eyebrow by way of answer, and Jude paled.

“I will, My Lord.”

Cardan knew that Jude was likely still allowing this sort of behavior from herself by rationalizing that it was only for the night, but it still pleased him to see signs of her growing obedience.

Jude had dresses in one of the many closets contained by Cardan’s chambers, for those times when hers became rumpled and dirty and she didn’t want anyone to know what she had been doing or with whom. She pulled one on now, not bothering to search for a bra, knowing Cardan would likely stop her anyway. She did, however, pick her underwear back up from where Cardan had carelessly discarded it earlier, but he tsked and plucked it from her hands.

“Not tonight,” he said decisively, and she had no choice but to obey.

When she was dressed and had smoothed down her hair enough to be presentable to... wherever it was they were going, Cardan led Jude from the chambers and into the halls of the palace. When they reached the throne room, a horrible thought occurred to Jude. Surely, surely, Cardan didn’t expect her to spend hours on the throne as she usually did at night, watching revelers and hearing complaints from the citizens of Elfhame. Surely he wouldn’t be so cruel, when she could still feel the wetness between her thighs and knew her clit remained as swollen as ever.

But he was so cruel, and in they went to settle on the twin thrones, side by side, perhaps an inch of space between the two seats.

“Bring a table,” he ordered loudly to the room, “with a cloth.”

Cardan was quickly obeyed, and a table was set before their thrones on the dais, covered in a white cloth that reached to the floor. To Jude’s shock, Cardan actually thanked the faeries that delivered the table. He was clearly on his best behavior in an attempt to convince her that this was a worthy arrangement.

Jude had no idea why Cardan would request a table when, again to her shock, he did not appear to be drinking. His reason soon became apparent, though, as his hand slipped across the space between their thrones and under her dress once more, blocked from the sight of the room’s revelers by the cloth on the table.

She realized at that moment that Cardan planned to keep her on the edge of orgasm for the entire duration of their time in the throne room, and closed her eyes as a flush began to rise on her face.

“My lord,” she said, too quietly for anyone but Cardan to hear her. “I don’t know if I can do this.”

“You can,” he responded, “because I know your limits, and because I am telling you that you can, and because you want to please me.”

Jude was surprised to find that she did, indeed want to please him.

“My lord,” she started again, “you aren’t drinking. I was just wondering why.”

Cardan’s face grew serious. “As greatly as it pains me to go a night sober, I don’t believe in engaging in this sort of... activity while intoxicated. One of my main responsibilities is to ensure that I can read you well enough to know your limits, and I can’t easily do so with an alcohol addled mind.”

Jude nodded, touched and realizing for the first time that Cardan’s role in this was as difficult, if not more so, as hers.

“So, in the hypothetical and far from plausible situation that we made this arrangement permanent...”

“I would still drink on occasion, but any rewards, punishments, commands, or otherwise would wait until my sobriety.”

Jude found herself slightly disappointed. She wouldn’t admit it to him, but she worried about his drinking, about the fact that his drunken state seemed the only time he even bordered on happiness. Not that she did much to help with the misery he experienced in life.

All thoughts shattered in Jude’s mind as Cardan brought her nearly over the edge once more.

“My Lord, can I-“

He pulled away.

Had they not been in the middle of a room full of faeries, Jude might have cried out in frustration.

They passed the next hour in silence, Cardan bringing Jude to the edge again every time she got far enough from it to be comfortable. She spent the hour in misery, near writhing in her seat from the arousal. She knew she would have a damp spot on the back of her dress when they finally left the throne room, and couldn’t bring herself to care. She couldn’t even care, in fact, that all of this was happening publicly, and that someone could rise too high on the dais and see what Cardan’s hand occupied itself with at any moment.

“Alright, Jude,” Cardan said loudly, finally taking pity on her. “Let us retire for the rest of the night.”

Jude sighed in relief and stood, following Cardan out of the throne room. When they reached his chambers, Jude had no time to react as Cardan pinned her to the wall, holding her wrists above her head.

“You’re mine, Jude,” he said, stroking her wrists with his thumbs. “I love having you as my own, to do what I will with. You have no idea how deliciously appealing you looked on the dais, sitting in your throne and letting me touch you like the slut you are quickly, beautifully becoming. Tell me - are you enjoying yourself?”

“No, My Lord.”

“Are you lying?”

“Yes, My Lord.”

Cardan smiled. “It’s not nice to lie, Jude.” He slapped her in the face, hard enough to sting and take her by surprise but softly enough not to leave a mark. Jude exclaimed in surprise.

Cardan knew he had taken a risk, that face slapping was something they had not discussed and something with which Jude might be wholly uncomfortable, but she said nothing, merely looked at the floor in guilt.

And she did feel guilty — guilty for lying to him about her enjoyment in one last, desperate attempt to pretend this wasn’t exactly what she needed, that she couldn’t already feel a glimmer of the feeling Cardan had described, that she wasn’t close to total surrender.

“Look at me,” Cardan said softly.

Jude looked at him, biting her lip gently, willing him to forgive.

“There’s something important which I neglected to tell you.” He continued stroking her wrists in small, reassuring circles. “After I have punished you for whatever infraction you’ve committed, it’s over. I harbor no more negative feelings about it, and you have no more repentance to do unless I explicitly tell you otherwise. A punishment is an absolution.”

“Yes, My Lord,” Jude said, lifting her head in an attempt to push the conflict from her mind. “I will not lie again.” She meant the promise.

Cardan bowed his head. “Noted and appreciated,” he said, before looking up at her, sternly but with mischief on his face.

“Now. Get on your knees.”

Jude dropped to her knees immediately, growing more and more eager to please, and reached up to undo the buttons of his breeches.

“No,” he said, and stilled her hands. “Take off your dress.”

She obeyed, sliding it over her head eagerly and casting it aside, leaving herself naked before him once more.

Cardan cast his own shirt over his head and undid his breeches himself, much to Jude’s disappointment, before sliding off the remainder of his clothes.

“Start slowly, and using only your mouth.”

Jude obeyed, leaning forward to kiss her way up and down the length of him, pausing to give particular attention to the head before moving back down. Cardan braced a hand against the wall behind her.

“Lick me. Stay slow, but be thorough.”

Jude did as instructed once more, licking and gently sucking her way around his cock, over the head, pausing to swirl her tongue around his balls.

After several minutes, Cardan gave his next order.

“Pull as much of me as you can into your mouth. You may use your hands now, and do go a bit more quickly.”

Jude smiled, hearing the effect she had on him in his voice, and proceeded to do as told, sucking him into her mouth and blowing him in earnest.

Cardan’s sounds were like a reward, as they always were on the rare occasions that she did this, and she smiled as she worked on him, desperately wanting to bring him over the edge, desperately wanting to please.

“Jude,” he groaned, “yes, yes, like that.”

Quickly, Cardan went over the edge, spilling come into Jude’s mouth which she swallowed diligently before wiping her face with her hand. She smiled up at him when she finished, a mixture of sweetness and wicked pleasure on her face.

“Evil, talented girl,” was all he said before pulling her to her feet and pushing her across the room, onto the bed. “It’s my turn now.”

Jude did not point out that Cardan had, in fact, taken many turns already, merely lay on her back awaiting him. When he arrived, he quickly got back to the task at hand, spreading her legs and using his tongue to work her clit, alternating speeds to keep her from coming to the edge too quickly.

Still— after hours of torment, it was a matter of moments before she was at the edge, legs trembling hard beneath Cardan’s hands.

“May I come, My Lord, may I come?” she pleaded, close to begging, desperation evident in her voice.

“Yes,” he paused just long enough to say before resuming his ministrations.

He didn’t stop, nor even slow down, as she came, crying out and tangling her hands in his hair, chanting his name and “my lord” and “god, god, god” intermittently. Nor did he slow down when she came a second time, writhing beneath him. By the time she neared a third orgasm without a break, Jude had tears of pleasure and overstimulation in her eyes and was pleading with Cardan alternately to stop and keep going. He chose to continue, and she came four times before Cardan finally slowed to a stop and pulled back to look at her.

Cardan moved to the top of the bed and pulled Jude into his arms, head resting on his chest. She let out a slight whimper of protest, a part of her uncomfortable with this level of intimacy, but was too spent and needed to be held too badly to resist.

“Are you in a space where you can listen to me, my darling Jude?” Cardan asked, so heartbreakingly gentle in voice and touch that she felt as though her chest was cracking.

“Mm hmm,” she said in assent.

“Another important thing to remember about what we’re doing is that you must allow me to care for you. This is undeniably important. This sort of... play, if we might call it that, can only happen with the knowledge that I will care for you afterward. You cannot protest when I pull you into my arms after whatever we’ve been doing, whether punishment or pleasure. You cannot prevent me from tending to any injuries I may have caused or ensuring your safety, health, and wellbeing. If it is my responsibility to correct you, and to keep safely your power, then it is also my responsibility to care for you, and I take it quite seriously. Do you understand?”

“Yes, My Lord, I understand,” Jude tried to say, but it came out more like “hmmlord derstand.”

Cardan smiled tenderly down at Jude, and knew in that moment that he was much farther gone than he had ever suspected when it came to his feelings for the woman he held.

Jude, for her part, was terrified. Since her return from exile, she had never allowed herself this kind of intimacy with Cardan, and she was shocked by how desperately she desired it. She was mentally and bodily exhausted and wanted nothing more than to fall asleep in his arms, but her mind would not allow her that, setting off all the warning bells of the danger she could be getting herself into by allowing this, and with him.

But she had promised to be honest, and knew that he would consider keeping her thoughts a secret when they needed to be shared a lie of omission, so she spoke.

“I’m afraid,” she said.

“I know,” he replied, and for a moment they were silent. “I don’t want to put pressure on you, but if you’ll give me the time to do this right, I’ll prove to you that you have nothing to be afraid of.”

Jude opened her eyes. “I want to,” she whispered, as though saying something shameful. “I don’t want this to end, but I don’t know if I can do it.”

“I do. I know.”

“Where did this resounding faith in my strength come from?” Jude’s words were teasing, but her sentiment was genuine.

“I’ve had it for a long time, I think. Since I’ve known you. I was cruel to you in part because it was easier than acknowledging my feelings and in part because I saw strength in you where in myself there was only weakness, and I hated you for that.”

For reasons Jude could not understand, the reminder that Cardan had ever hated her nearly brought tears to her eyes at this moment, but she remained silent as he continued.

“I now see that hating you for your strength was the solution of a child. You have my apologies and my regret.”

They both were silent, unspoken emotion crackling between them, for several minutes.

“Why can’t this be easy?” Jude said at last.

“It’s not too late,” Cardan whispered, and kissed the top of Jude’s head, the mortal curve of her ear, the tip of her nose. “Jude, admit that you need this.”

“I do, but that doesn’t mean I get to have it when it feels like giving up all that I’ve worked for.”

Cardan closed his eyes in frustration. “You’re giving up nothing, Jude! You would only be gaining a new form of freedom. You lose nothing by surrendering.”

“I lose the war between us.”

“What war!” Cardan exclaimed, raking his hands through his hair. “The war of children? The war of two people who have been horrible to each other and now have a chance to be good? There is no war for me, Jude - not any more.”

Jude was choking back tears now, impossibly distressed at having gone from the sweetness of a few moments ago to the harsh reality of their situation and of Cardan’s frustration with her.

“I’m sorry,” she started, but then Cardan was there and he was holding her again and comforting her and kissing her temples and oh god, Jude had never been so overwhelmed by emotion and sensation and desire.

“No, Jude, do not apologize. It was my responsibility to keep myself calm after putting you into that emotional place and I failed. The responsibility is mine, and I am truly sorry.”

Jude didn’t cry, not any more, but she came close now, squeezed her eyes shut to hold back the tears, and finally, finally assented.

“I don’t know what I can commit to, and I don’t know that I won’t back out at any moment, because I’m terribly, terribly afraid. What I do know is that I want this, and I’m willing to try.”

“That’s more than I expected from you, Jude,” and she could hear the grateful tone behind his words.

“We can try it all the time, if you still want to.” The words came out of Jude in a rush of nervousness, and Cardan took her trembling hands in his own.

“I would love to, Jude. Go get the paper and pen from earlier.”

“Yes, My Lord,” she said, already relieved to be back to this, showing her just how badly she did need this arrangement.

She returned with the paper, which Cardan quickly signed at the bottom.

“Sign this when you’re truly ready to begin,” he said. “I won’t rush you. You can take all the time you—“

With decisiveness, Jude signed the document.

[fuckblizzardbearlover]

Why ppl who think the writers dont know exactly what they are doing with Sylvannas are dead, completely and utterly wrong: a Thread

from the official overview

“ The Broken Machine The machine of death is broken, and players entering the Shadowlands will find the realm of the dead in disarray. In the natural order of things, souls are sorted and sent on to an afterlife realm appropriate to the lives they lived, but now, but over the past few years, all souls who have perished—including the innocents slain at Teldrassil—are being funneled directly into the Maw. The Shadowlands are starving for anima even as the Maw continues to grow from the glut of fresh souls. Sylvanas has been seemingly perpetrating acts to bring about great amounts of death and destruction. In partnership with the Jailer, they have been working toward a common end for some time. “

so, i’m sure this will be one of the first things we learn in Bastion. or whereever.

emphasis mine.

past few years...BFA...Legion....ok thats a pair... So what if it is not exactly a few (3 ). Draenor sylvannas didnt have anything to do, But in MoP she didnt balk at causing death at Siege of Ogrimmar or Theramore and, in the Cataclysm she wiped out 3 cities. Catacylsm is the expasnion after wrath. After she died

From Sylvannas Windrunner: Edge of Night

“What did it matter if another corpse filled his vacant throne? Sylvanas Windrunner had her vengeance. The vision that had driven her and her people for years had finally been realized. And not a single fiber of her desiccated, animate corpse cared where the world went from here.It was over now. A part of her was surprised she was even still around, without his lingering presence always tugging at the back of her mind. She backed away from the throne and slowly turned to survey the cold gray world all around her. Her thoughts returned to that place of bliss, her half-remembered glimpse of what lay beyond. Home. It was time.

.............

She longed for it. A return to peace. The work she had begun in the forests of Silvermoon was finally complete with the death of Arthas. ,,,,,,,,,,,

...........

She could feel no cold, only a dull ache. She would feel nothing soon. She already felt her spirit reaching a place of calm for the first time in almost a decade. Her weight shifted toward the edge of the drop. She closed her eyes.

.......................

"There are so many!" he barked, falling silent as she raised a finger. "We have only two dozen rangers up there," he said, his voice now a whisper. "They cannot survive that!" Sylvanas didn't turn her gaze away from the dark mass of shambling corpses crushing its way closer to the river ford. It was the height of the Third War, and hours away from Silvermoon's fall at the hands of Arthas's army.

"They merely need to delay them as we fortify the Sunwell's defense," she answered, her tone measured.

"They will die!"

"They are arrows in the quiver," Sylvanas said. "They must be spent if we are to win this."

She was brash. Empty? No—a fighter. She had a warrior's heart.................

Before her waited a grotesque, quivering mass of corpses, their armor piecemeal, their bodies broken, the stench unimaginable. Their plaintive, desperate gazes reminded her suddenly of children. They disgusted her. But their need empowered her. "The Lich King falters. Your will is your own. Are you to be outcasts now in your own land? Or do we embrace the cruel cards fate has dealt us and retake our place in this world?"

.........

These poor people: peasants, farmers, priests, warriors, lords and nobles… they hadn't yet come to grips with what had happened to them. But for somebody—anybody—to assure them that they belongedsomewhere was electrifying. 

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

Already he'd come to embrace his situation, referring to humans as if they were a separate race; she made a mental note to make use of him.

.........

"The humans will serve their purpose," she answered, her mind already calculating. "They believe they are liberating the city. Let them fight on our behalf and spend themselves for our gain. They are"—she stumbled upon an analogy she'd used before—"arrows in our quiver."

The heaving mass of undead clapped and coughed and hacked gleefully in assent. Sylvanas regarded the whole mob coldly. And so are you, she thought to herself. Arrows I will aim at Arthas's heart.

................................

No more would she be the vengeful leader of a mongrel race of rotted corpses. Her work was done, and her long-denied reward awaited her

...............

“"Your people will perish!" said the dark-haired Val'kyr.

.Sylvanas thought about her people. They had come far from their decimated origins, the yearning, confused mob of fresh corpses huddled about the ruins of Lordaeron's wrecked capital. The Forsaken were truly a nation now: a fetid, gore-caked, hideous mass of lifeless husks, skilled in combat, devastating with the arcane arts, and unhindered by fetters of morality. They had been honed into the perfect weapon. Her weapon. And they had struck the killing blow for which she had built them. She cared nothing for their fate."Let them perish!" Sylvanas cried. "I am finished with them!"“

........................

She saw only darkness.

And then she felt—truly felt, for the first time in a long while. She recoiled. In agony.

Here she was, her spirit once again feeling whole, only to feel it suffer. To feel once more, only to feel abject pain. Cold. Hopelessness.

Fear.

...................

There were others in the darkness. Things she didn't recognize, because nothing so terrible could exist in the world of the living. Claws tore at her, but she had no mouth with which to scream. Eyes looked at her, but she couldn't look back.

Regret.

She sensed a familiar presence. Recognized it. The taunting voice that had once held her in its grasp. Arthas? Arthas Menethil? Here? His essence rushed to her, desperate, then shrank away in horrified recognition. The boy who would be Lich King. Just a scared little blond child, reaping the aftermath of a lifetime of mistakes. If any part of Sylvanas's soul were not at that moment torn and tormented, she might have even felt—for the first time—the slightest glimmer of pity for him.

Now the others had her. Surrounded her. Gleeful, tormenting, tearing at her consciousness, delighting in her suffering.

Horror.

This was to be her eternity: the endless void, the dark, unknown realm of anguish.

....

"Sylvanas Windrunner, Dark Lady, queen of the Forsaken… you may walk with the living again through the sisterhood of the Val'kyr. As long as they live, so too shall you. Freedom, life… and power over death. This is our pact. Do you accept our gift?"

.....................

This was her only way out. But she didn't want to give her assent out of fear. She waited until she felt something more. A fellowship. A sisterhood. Sisters. Separate, they were all trapped. But together, they were free… and with them, she could postpone her fate.

.............................

"I was once like you, Garrosh," she answered, her voice quiet and steady, loud enough only for the warchief to hear. "Those who served me were tools. Arrows in my quiver.

......................

What he saw was a great black void, an infinite darkness. There was fear in those eyes, but also something else. Something that terrified even the great warchief.

"Garrosh Hellscream. I've walked the realms of the dead. I have seen the infinite dark. Nothing you say. Or do. Could possibly frighten me."

The army of undead that surrounded and protected the Dark Lady was still hers, body and soul. But they were no longer arrows in her quiver, not anymore. They were a bulwark against the infinite. They were to be used wisely, and no fool orc would squander them while she still walked the world of the living.

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

Now, look at the description for the Maw

“ This horrific prison houses the most vile and irredeemable souls in existence—ones deemed by the Arbiter to represent a threat to the Shadowlands if left free. Ruled by the enigmatic Jailer who none have ever seen—at least none have seen and lived to tell—the Maw inspires nightmares and legends even among the denizens of the Shadowlands. No one has ever escaped this vile place, and any foolish enough to venture there are never heard from again. “

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

So This short story was written before cataclysm launched in 2010. NINE years ago.

So yes “dur Blizz are bad writers that made sylvannas do a 180 and become evil for no reason”

NO. This was the biggest piece of characerization Sylvannas ever got outside of warcraft 3 The Frozen Throne. it establishes that she was a cold person more than willing to treat living people as objects to satisfy the needs of their military and their people. It emphasised MULTIPLE times that i highlighted that she HATED and was disgusted by the forsaken. ANd i emphasised at least twice that She has been using patriotism and their need for someone to care about them as a way to MANIPULATE them. And that was how she was. SHe didnt care about any of them They were just a tool to be used to kill Arthas. and with him gone she was ready to die.

The problem was she was ready to die because she HAD ALREADY DIED. we learn with the SHadowlands that good souls go where they are treated well, and even strong souls are treated well. but Where to evil souls go? either the maw or to the vampire place. She had died and started to enter the good place, Bastion no doubt. as a good protector of the innocent. but Arthas pulled her out and made her a monster

BUT SINCE THEN she became even more of a monster. She let her people embrace hatred. she allowed slavery and torture of prisoners for the sake of destroying life. she thought of nothing but how to USE and ABUSE people in order to get vengence so SHE could get her REWARD.

She became a “most vile and irredeemable soul”. So when she died her soul went to the Maw where it suffered with dark evil souls like Arthas’

and did getting rescued by the valkyre fix her outlook? No . she still saw her people as nothing. but she knew the horrors she’d face if she died, and so she viewed her people as a BULWARK against that.

But whats REALLY interesting is that I think Ion wasnt being completely honest . The lore says that “No one has EVer escaped the Maw of Souls”... however we know that we will do so. And we know that No one has been there. so how can anyone KNOW that no one has escaped. What if they just kept it a secret.

What if the Jailer started to, for whatever reason, decide to take over the afterlife. whether it was personal ambition or seeing the rest as redundant. And he saw this elf soul ESCAPE him. the only one to ever do so. By that Valkyre taking her place. The Valkyre are allegedly created by the souls of hte denezins of bastion, the angel people. So between having a connection to the lich king, guardian of the connection to the Shadowlands, and the fact that they are denezins of the shadowlands.. or were... it makes sense they might have had the power to rescue a soul from the Maw.....with the added help of the soul taking her place.

I emphasised other parts to because i think its important. the Valkyre USED to be denizens of the shadowlands. but supposedly Changed by the lich king. The valkyre emphasised it WASNT just a bond of sisterhood but a bond of hte Valkyre. I think in order to save her from the maw they basically had to enchant sylvannas to magically register as a Valkyre, and thats how they ‘made the switch”. so to speak.

Now remember what happened in Legion? She got a special lantern from Helya, the original Valkyr, who is a master of Death, trapping souls and creating dimensions And who has reason to hate Odyn  who has his own form of afterlife?

So it seems to me that Sylvannas gained the attention of the Jailer when she was the first one to escape. and the fact that she escaped by utilizing Valkyre magic, but she wasnt bound to the ethos of most of the denizens of bastion. I think shortly after her original death she was contacted by him, possibly through the valkyre and they started their pact. 

Ion said that Sylvannas does not have a master, she’s doing things for herself. However that doesnt mean that, just cus the Jailer isnt controlling her doesnt mean he might not be manipulating her.

Jailer starts to usurp the souls. Sylvannas, afraid of going to the maw. begins rampant death,  in order to kill enemies and create a massive army of forsaken to use against any force that would come for her. This rampant death gains the attention of those in the afterlife, including the Jailer who gets more souls do to it. somewhere between Cata and the start of legion he contacts her. When vol’jin is dying he uses his influence to get Vol’jin to name Sylvannas warchief.

She uses her new power to go wherever she wants, which she uses to find Helya, another god of death who has a unique power. Realm magic. using the Lantern, Sylvannas uses the valkyre to send it to the jailer who cuts off the other parts of the afterlife, making it so ALL souls go to the maw. then now that the world threat is over, and she doesnt have to worry about dying herself, she uses her position of power to sew as much death as possible to feed her ally. with the ultimate plan of  them destroying the natural order of life and death.  She gets to be free of him and lets those she deems worthy live free. all others get to be the Jailer’s victims. no more souls wasted on the ‘good’ after lives or regeneration. no more foolish living to ruin a perfect, deathless world.

its all coming together.

[anxiousprincedad]

Same Blood

i finally caught up with the series.... and after months... i’m back baby

TW: Major Character Death and everything that comes with Remus 

read on ao3: (x)

Prompt : A character gets revenge on someone.

-

Remus had always been the unloved child. Roman was the golden child, the boy who could do no wrong, the crown prince and heir to the throne. He was adored by everyone, and he simply basked  in the glory and riches showered upon him. And Remus, unlucky by three measly minutes, was all but cast in the shadows. He watched as Roman grew, as he came into his own, relishing in the frivolity and carelessness of the palace life. He didn’t see the world as Remus did. The thing about being hidden in the shadows is that no one notices if you’re gone. And it makes it very easy to see everything behind a cloak of darkness. He saw the slums of the villages outside the castle walls. He’d seen children beaten, women killed, men stealing and lying to get anything they could. He’d seen that humans are no more than wild animals, no matter how sophisticated they may act. The Sins poisoned their minds and consumed their souls, condemning them all to damnation. The thoughts plagued him. Like a disease, they’d grown in his brain no matter how hard he’d tried to flush them out through begging for forgiveness to the Father. He’d labored for hours, days, weeks, months… years. No matter how much he tried to scrub away the sinful urges, they always came back. While Roman slept like a baby in fairyland in his cushy bed, Remus would wander the forest in the dark, battling with himself.

Remus had given up the ghost years ago now. He’d come to accept it. He was flawed. They all were. They were all equal, yes, but only in the fact that they were all condemned. Even the Bishop would slip a drink, pretending that asking forgiveness would save him.

And he came to another conclusion. He hated Roman. Roman pretended that he was perfect. He could do no wrong. But it was Roman who cast him aside, who had told him that he was lucky he’d be a Duke under his rule. Roman pretended that he was holier-than-thou, that he was good. But Remus could see it. The hypocrisy, the self doubt and the lies that he told himself, that he was a hero. Well, every hero needed a villain, didn’t they?

And he’d warned him. “If you wanted me to leave, you could have just said so! But I must warn you... you will regret it,” he’d told his twin, standing out in the brisk night.

Roman had laughed. Turned and shut the door behind him without a second glance.

Remus knew then that it was time. If he was going to hell anyways… why not make a show of it?

-

As expected, Roman didn’t know what to do when people began dropping like flies. When this plague suddenly spread through the kingdom, when the king fell ill and died in his bed. When women wailed in the streets for their children dying or the stench of the corpses rotting in the streets filled the air. When no merchant would dare come near the kingdom and the ranks of his armies diminished to practically nothing.

It was a wonder how much poison you could buy with the richness of a prince. How easy it was to slip it into the wells and lakes, how fast the crops and livestock died with them. Remus had already known that a hungry man would grow desperate.

It was beautiful. The death and despair, everywhere you turned, it was macabre. And when Remus finally returned to the castle, it was to find Roman doing his best to scratch pen to paper with a clammy, shaking hand. The dark circles under his eyes were almost as bad as Remus’. It put a smile to the younger brother’s face.

“I told you that you would regret it.” Remus’ smugness shone brightly in the dim room. “Too bad you didn’t listen.”

Roman was weak, struggling to even pull himself up to look at his brother in a dignified manner. He looked exhausted. “What do you gain from this?” he asked, past asking why he’d done it, how to fix it. “There will be nothing for you, cause you destroyed it.” “It’s very funny that you think I care about power or riches. No.” Remus walked towards Roman, each step deliberate and taunting as he circled around him. “That’s what you care about. All I ever wanted was to see you torn down to nothing. To make you see that you are not a god among men, you’re barely a man at all.”

“You think your words will hurt me?” Roman snarled, his eyes following Remus.

The younger twin laughed, “Oh, no, not at all. But you’ve certainly taken your toll with this plague, haven’t you? When the king fell ill and wasted away- oh-” Remus put a hand to his heart. “I wish I could’ve seen the light drain from his eyes. But then, I suppose Daddy always did like you better, right, Roman?”

“You are a cold-blooded villain-”

Remus’ sudden shrieking laugh interrupted Roman’s words, quieting him. “Well, yes, of course I am! I don't see what the problem is. You wanted to play the heroic prince, and you told me I was nothing but a villain. You made me this way, Roman. I've only been playing the part.”

Remus reveled in the way Roman’s face fell, in the way that realization that it was part in fault of himself for what happened. He ripped the chair back, taking Roman with it, and stood directly in front of him. His eyes glinted as his brother’s hands weakly tried to push him away, unable to stop Remus from pressing his hand to his chest, pinning him against the back of the chair. Roman was powerless, sick.

“There’s no point, Roman. You’re going to die, whether it be by my hand or the poison’s. In a way, I’m giving you what you always wanted. You could become a martyr.” Remus chuckled to himself as he pulled the dagger from his belt, watching the glint of the blade for a moment before he looked back into Roman’s terror-stricken eyes. “Or perhaps they will simply hate you for not being able to save them. Some hero you turned out to be…”

“You’re sick,” Roman cursed out, the despair clear in his voice. Trying to do anything to have a final blow.

“No, actually, you’re sick. I’m demented, and I’ve come to terms that I’m going to Hell. But you will be begging for Heaven when you find where you really end up. Call it a favor for you, you’ll get a quick death at least. But really, it’s a favor for Lucifer. I do hope that we’ll be friends when I end up there too. Maybe he can even let me torment you!”

Roman could only stare at him, mouth agape, horrified. The look hardly even changed as the blade flew across his throat.

Remus’ smile only grew as he felt the blood run through his fingers. It was so warm, so comforting. Roman choked, his body convulsing as his fingers tried to touch his neck, to do anything to save himself.

“This blood runs through my veins. We have always been two halves of one whole, Roman. You were simply blind to not see it. I was always your equal. It’s a shame it took this for you to see.”

As Remus spoke, he slowly stood straight, bringing his bloody hand to his face. He traced his fingers down his cheek, letting the blood smear over him. The blade rose to his own throat, looking down at his dying brother, who was wheezing for breath as he stared up at him. “Goodbye, brother. May I see you in the eternal damnation of our souls.”

The burn of the quick, deep cut set in fast. It was warm, comforting, and as Remus fell to his knees, there was a smile on his face. His shaky hand lifted to his slit throat, coating in his own blood, taking Roman’s cold hand. The light in the older brother’s eyes were faint, but he was still there.

“We are one,” Remus faintly managed to choke out, leaning forward onto Roman’s lap for support. Their blood mixed together. “In birth… in death…”

Roman had stilled, his eyes unseeing and already starting to cloud ever so slightly. Remus sat back on his feet, his own breaths growing more shallow. Life was ugly, cruel… Death was beautiful. It numbed his pain, took him gently.

In the chaos that he had created, he had finally found peace.

[justallamaimaginingthings]

Jaime Lannister x Reader [Queenslayer]

Request: “ Hi! I'm back!! Can I request a Jaime x reader? They get on well, they've feelings for each other but have never dared to confess anything to the other. During the last battle of King's Landing, the reader kills Cersei to prevent her from doing something really dangerous (like Aerys) under the eyes of Jaime. Later, when everyone celebrates the victory, the reader chooses to leave, believing that Jaime hates her for killing his sister. But finally thanks to Tyrion, there's a happy ending ? Thanks!” by @cyaa-niide

A/n: First of all, really really loved the idea and thank you very much for sending in that request! I hope this meets your expectations. Have a nice day and don’t hesitate to leave a comment

Words: 2000ish

“My Queen, the northerners have breached the walls” Quyburn announced to a very displeased Cersei

“You know what to do. Blow them up” her cold voice replied. You shot a panicked look at Jaime and bolted in the throne room ignoring his attempt to hold you back. The both of you had snuggled in the Red Keep among the citizens right before the doors closed. The whole plan was Jaime’s idea, in a desperate attempt to stop his sister before blood could be shed in another war and you had instantly agreed even though you knew it wouldn’t be as simple as Jaime thought.

“But the people…” The Maester whispered hesitantly

“I gave you an order. Blow them back to the seven hells” Cersei yelled making you realize just how far her obsession to keep the throne had reached.

“Cersei stop this madness. It’s over” you warned in a demanding tone while bursting through the doors, gripping your favorite pair of daggers as tightly as possible. The moment she saw you her eyes widened in shock and a new wave of burning anger cursed thought her.

“Kill her” she ordered the five members of the Kingsguard who were standing beside the throne. The Knights launched at you and thankfully Jaime got there in time to help you fend them off. While the fight was taking place, Cersei tried to escape and find the pyromancers, but you rushed behind her just in time to block her exit.

“You’ve already lost. Don’t take others down with you” you almost begged her, thinking that Jaime would want to keep her alive. During the last few years the Lannister had lost things and people who were important to him and despite how bad the relationship with his sister had gotten, he had loved her once and you were certain her death would hurt him.

Your good will was met by deaf ears as Cersei quickly grabbed one of the swords the Kingsguard had dropped and unskillfully tried to land a hit on you. One of the guards saw what was happening and ran to defend his Queen. Turning to block him, you were left defenseless against Cersei who attempted to hit you once more. In a swift move you managed to avoid her hit and use your second dagger to slash her throat making her stumble and fall to the ground with a loud thud while a pool of blood started to form around her body.

The moment Cersei’s eyes closed, you locked eyes with Jaime who stared at the sight in front of him with a completely blank expression on his face. Time seemed to slow down as his eyes met yours. You had expected hatred or pain to be evident in his gaze. Instead you were met by an emptiness that was much worse. Next thing you remember was dropping the blood covered dagger and running off into the battle.

After that everything was a blur as you somehow managed to survive the battle and make it back to the camp. Upon entering your tent you finally allowed yourself to feel everything. Yes, you had saved many lives but at what cost? Cersei Lannister deserved to die, that much was certain, yet that happening in front of Jaime was more than cruel. The image of the emotionless and numb look on his face haunted you, appearing every time you closed your eyes.

You loved Jaime with everything you had and yet you had chosen to do something that’d hurt him. Knowing you were the reason he had lost someone else was killing you. And as if that wasn’t enough, you realized that he’d probably hate you for the rest of his life, it being the final hit. You didn’t know you were crying until you felt the tears roll down your cheeks. Throwing away the dagger you were still holding you broke down in tears, sobs shaking your body.

Unbeknownst to you, Jaime found himself in an almost similar situation. The moment he saw Cersei ordering the death of everyone in the city he realized just how identical she had become to Aerys and how, by losing the last shred of rationality she had left, she had become the same monster Jaime sacrificed his honor to destroy. Seeing her dead had hurt but deep down he knew it was coming. At the same time he felt free, as if the worst part of him had died with her. Knowing that Cersei had lied to him about carrying his child served to erase every last inch of remorse he could find in himself.

The other thing that troubled him even more was the terrified look he saw in your face right before you disappeared. He couldn’t help but think that it was directed at him. Had you finally realized what kind of person he was upon seeing the madness of his twin? Would you ever talk to him again? The thought of losing you was too much for him to bear. You had been the light in his darkness, guiding him towards being a better version of himself, and most of all you had been the only one to truly believe in him. He loved you more than he thought he was able to. He was abruptly snapped out of his thoughts by Tyrion bursting inside his tent holding three glasses of wine.

“Is it true then? Our sister wanted to burn King’s Landing down?” He asked waiting for Jaime to confirm the rumors that had been spreading around like wildfire.

“I saw it in her eyes, Tyrion. The same madness as Aerys” Jaime replied slowly

“You did what you had to do. It must be hard for you, but it was the right thing. You saved our lives” Tyrion reassured his brother while emptying one of the cups.

“What are you talking about? I was not the one who did it. It was Y/n” Jaime replied and suddenly a look of realization crossed the shorter man’s face.

“Of course!” Tyrion exclaimed

“Of course what?”

“Before I came here I passed by her tent to offer her to join us, hence the third glass, but the moment I mentioned your name she grew pale as a ghost and used some terrible excuse to get rid of me” he explained making Jaime’s last hope dissolve into dust as his worst fears came true.

“She probably realized I’m not the man she thinks, that I’m just as bad as Cersei” Jaime said burying his face in his hand in desperation. His reaction was answered by an empty cup of wine hitting him on the shoulder “What was that for?” He snapped at his brother

“Being positively dense” Tyrion casually replied “Y/n loves you more than I’ve seen anyone love and trust me on this, she’s the last person in this world to even think you are similar to our sister”

“Then why did she react this way?”

“Because she must think you despise her. Think about it, she killed Cersei, the only woman you have admitted to ever loving and your sister” Before Tyrion could say another word, Jaime had already run outside, leaving his brother with a smirk on his face “What would they do without me?” He wondered emptying to second cup of wine.

Not bothering to knock, Jaime entered your tent only to be faced with an unexpected sight. You had almost finished packing your belongings in a small leather back, a couple of dried tears still evident on your face. Turning around you saw the man who had been plaguing your thoughts and let out a small gasp of surprise.

“What are you doing here?” You asked him trying and failing to hide your panic as you refused to meet his eyes. The knight took another step towards you so that he was standing right in front of you and placed his hand on your cheek, slowly guiding your eyes to meet his.

“Are you scared of me?” He demanded to know almost desperately

“Of course not, Jaime” you assured him taken aback by his question

“Then why are you avoiding me? Why are you leaving?” Affection was evident in his voice hidden behind confusion and helplessness.

“We both know I’m the last person you want to see right now. I don’t regret what I did, but I will accept the consequences of my actions. I don’t blame you for hating me, you know” it all came pouring out before you could hold anything back. Expecting him to leave after your little outburst, you turned around and continued packing, missing the shocked but all the same relieved look on his face.

“I couldn’t hate you even if I tried” Jaime confessed after a moment of silence causing your eyes to snap back to him

“But I-” you started but he carried on, not leaving you a chance to answer

“You saved the city and you ended a war. It was the right thing to do, it was what I should have done” he said and you could see he was being truthful. You were startled by his statement and shot him a hesitant look.

“Nonetheless, I apologize for the pain I caused you” you explained taking his hand in yours “I think I should just stay away for a while”

“Please don’t” you had never heard Jaime beg for anything and yet here he was, gripping your hand and pleading you to stay “I should be the one apologizing for even allowing you to think I wouldn’t want you to stay. If it weren’t for you I’d be the man everyone thought I was and probably would have ended up like Cersei. You’ve shown me there is another way, a brighter one. You’ve been the light in my darkness and for that I am grateful”

“You could never be like her. Say what you will Jaime Lannister, but I know you’re a good man” You said wishing that believing it yourself would be enough to convince him. For a moment, you stayed like this, looking into each other’s eyes while a meaningful silence fell around you. The tension between the two of you was full of unexpressed feelings, affection and admiration, relief that you were both alive and dare you say love. You were incredibly happy he didn't hold what had happened against you, because if he did you wouldn't have been able to live with the guilt. Unable to keep your feelings hidden any longer, you took a deep breath and decided to go for it.

“Jaime-”

“I know” he replied and before your mind could precess what was happening, you felt a pair of lips crash into your own. His hand grasped your waist pulling you close as he channeled all his emotions into the kiss to which you replied with equal enthusiasm. Despite the harshness of his grip and the passion of his actions, his touch was still gentle and delicate as if he was afraid you’d disappear. You smiled into the kiss and softly tugged at his bottom lip before pulling away.

“Does that mean you’re staying?” He asked hopefully

“Maybe you have to convince me a little bit more” you replied grinning and he got the hint as his grip on the back of your shirt tightened once more pulling you back against his chest. And just like that everything was forgotten and all that mattered was you and Jaime.

That day was the most intense emotional roller coaster you had been through, but you came to remember it as a good one. After politics settled down, with Danny and Jon on the throne and Tyrion as Hand of the Queen, you and Jaime knew your part was over. You bought a small house near Casterly Rock and lead a peaceful life full of love and happiness. Sure, the war and bloodshed you had seen had left their scars, but you got over them together and you couldn’t be happier.

Years later, your story became known as that of the Kingslayer and the Queenslayer, the lovers who saved King’s Landing twice and saved each other in the process.

[in-arlathan]

The Scar

Time period: Elvhenan Characters: Solas, Mythal, Elvhen OC Chapters: 1/1, Length: 2,620 words Rating: Mature Warning: Graphic Depictions of Violence

Summary: Driven by the desire the become one of the Evanuris, an elvhen mage summons a spirit of wisdom and tricks it into taking on a physical body to impress the all-mighty Mythal. Disgusted by what the mage had done, the All-Mother sides with the former spirit and helps him to free himself from his mistress's bindings, owning the name the mage has given to him: Solas.

A/N: This is an updated version of the fanfic I posted over @old-arlathan. Now with 50% less typos and more accurate terminology for the Elvhenan timeline. ;)

You can read this on AO3, too.

______

“He did not want a body. But she asked him to come.   He left a scar when he burned her off his face.”

– Cole

Her blood pooled around his feet, thick and dark as the night. He shuddered and stepped back, away from the dead woman who’s blood he’d spilled across the ancient marble floor. Her arms and legs lay twisted as if they belonged to a puppet rather than a living being. He dropped his hands and the spell faded away, leaving nothing behind but a gaping hole in his heart.

His mistress was dead and he had killed her.

“Well, that is that, I presume,” Mythal mused.

Sitting on her golden throne, the All-Mother had watched the fight in absolute silence. If she felt disgust or horror upon the murder, he could not tell. Her face was still, her breaths long and steady.

She is justice incarnate, he thought.

Is that why she had allowed him to kill his mistress? Because she thought it was just? He wanted to believe it so very badly. Maybe it would keep the darkness at bay that grew within him with every passing moment.

“Are you proud of yourself?” Mythal asked. Her voice was soft and candid. It was a gift he did not deserve.

“I… I don’t know,” he said, wiping away droplets of sweat that had gathered on his forehead. The fight had been much more exhausting than he had expected.

Slowly, the All-Mother rose from her throne and came towards him. Her rich green robes rustled softly as she descended from the dais, her steps echoing from the high stone walls of her Throne chamber.

“I remember the day she presented you before my court,” she said with her eyes fixed on the dead body on the floor in front of her. “She all but burst with pride while she told the tale of your summoning. A spirit of wisdom, eager to share his knowledge with The People, yet too kind to recognize an enemy on sight.”

He swallowed, hard. He, too, remember this tale. Remembered it all too well. It had become a part of his being, just like the body he inhabited.

“She learned everything she could from you,” Mythal continued, “and when you had finally shared all of your knowledge of the Beyond, she lured you into a body, binding you to the Waking World.”

Mythal lifted her hand ever so slightly. Still, he could feel the wave of energy flaring up around her as she drew power from the Beyond to cast her spell. Blazing fire erupted from the corpse, cloaking the body of his former mistress in flames. The air wavered and filled with the smell of burnt flesh.

Another wave of Mythal’s hand and the blood began flowing towards the tiny fissures in the marble floor and sank into the stone. He breathed a sigh a of relief as the dark fluid vanished.

They watched in silence as the flames consumed the dead woman’s body and when the fire finally died down, it was as if his mistress had never even existent. For a moment, they heard nothing but the song of birds and the sound of whispering leaves from the forest outside Mythal’s palace.

The All-Mother let out a sigh of regret. “I told her that her pride would be her undoing.” Her gaze turned to him. “Or should I say her Pride?”

A shiver worked its way down his spine. Until this day, his mistress had called him Pride, her Solas, for he was the embodiment of her strength, the manifestation of her will. For a while, he had liked that name, until he came to realize that he was but a means to an end. Now he wished the name belonged to someone else.

He raised a hand to touch the skin on his cheeks. Though he could not feel it, he knew the lines of his vallaslin by heart. His fingers traced the curved markings while he thought about the day when his mistress had presented him to Mythal and her courtiers. Back then, he was still trying to get used to his body and was too confused by the powerplay unfolding before his eyes to understand it. It was an irony, really, how little he had known about elvhen politics, even after spending years and years in friendly conversation with one of Elvhenan's most powerful mages.

“This spirit of wisdom possesses more knowledge than any other I have ever encountered,” his mistress had said to Mythal. “I devote him to you, All-Mother, as a sign of my loyalty to you, and grace him with your vallaslin.”

At that moment, Mythal had had no other choice but to accept her gift. She would have been seen as cruel or unkind by her courtiers if she hadn’t. So the All-Mother watched as his mistress ingrained the vallaslin in his skin with magic. The pain had been almost unbearable but he had been too proud to show his agony in front of the assembled elvhen. Instead, he had bitten his lips until they were bloody and kept silent.

Maybe some of his mistress’ pride had rubbed off on him when she’d help him take on a physical form.

So I truly am Solas, he thought bitterly.

“There is something you must tell me,” Mythal said. “How did she convince you to enter this realm?”

He blinked, taken by surprise. “How do you know she did not bind me like she claimed?”

A soft chuckle escaped Mythal’s lips.

“All elvhen were like you once, Solas, exisiting freely within the Beyond,” she explained. “Only those with the will to change their form were able to enter this world and manifest themselves in a physical body. Many ages ago, I, myself, was what you might call a spirit of justice, and when I saw the many wrongs that happened in the Waking World, I could not resist to enter it to set things right. That is why I know that no spirit can be bound into a body without its consent. Otherwise, it could never hold on to a physical form long enough to survive the journey to the Waking world.“

She looked him over. “But you are a person. You have a purpose. This means you came to this world by will, not by force. So tell me, what made you come here?”

He sighed. “I was curious. She had told me so much about this world and its wonders and I was … excited by her enthusiasm. I wanted to walk among The People and learn everything they had to offer so I could pass their wisdom on to other spirits. But when I’d taken my body, I …”

His voice trailed off.

“When you had taken your body, you found that you could not return to your spirit form,” Mythal said, finishing the sentence for him.

“Yes.”

The word tasted bitter in his mouth. He had never admitted his failure so openly before. The pain was simply too much to bear.

His desire to learn had made him foolish. He had been so eager to gain wisdom that he did not see the woman who had summoned him for what she really was. He’d simply assumed that she was a kindred spirit, a seeker of truth and knowledge, just like him. Learning from her had excited him and he had trusted her to guide him into his body. But then his friend used his trust to turn him into her pet to parade him around the rest of The People. Only then he realized the terrible mistake he’d made and he had regretted it ever since.

“You are not the first spirit to make this mistake and you won’t be the last,” Mythal said. “When taking on our physical form, we gain a stronger sense of self and a power that is beyond any spirit. It allows us to shape the world around us. But we also lose our ability to become one with the Fade. We can only dream of the world we have lost and try to make a difference in this one.”

Another moment of silence passed. “She should have told you about the consequences,” Mythal said. “But I wonder why you haven’t turned your back on her after her betrayal. She may have lured you into this world, but she never truly commanded you. Still, you called her mistress.”

“It was spiritual affinity that kept me by her side, though I never forgave her for luring me into taking a body,” he admitted. “I was perfectly happy as I was, back in the Beyond. But she was my friend and I thought I owed her for what she had given me.”

“I see,” Mythal said, her voice heavy with sadness. “I’m sorry.”

“I do not deserve your sympathy,” he replied.

“And why is that?”

“Because I wish to burn the vallaslin off my face. Your vallaslin.” The words came out in a rush, like a tide that had been held back for far too long. He closed his eyes and pressed his hands against his face. He imagined the lines of the blood writing burning brightly on his skin, just like the fire Mythal had cast to get rid of his mistress’s body. “I want to take it away and leave all memory of what was behind.”

“Well, take it off then,” Mythal said with a soft smile. “No one is stopping you.”

It took him a moment to understand what she truly meant. And when the realization finally hit him, he blinked in surprise yet again. He lowered his hands to look at Mythal. “But it would be an insult to you!”, he insisted. “The People would see it as a great offense if I rejected your patronage.”

The All-Mother laughed. “It was your mistress who offended me by thinking it would impress me that she tricked a trusting spirit into taking a body. It was her who offended me in wanting my patronage, not for the good of The People, but to rise in rank and to become one of the Evanuris. That is why I tempted you to kill her, you know. To right her wrongs.”

She reached out to him and touched his cheek gently. “Others might think you denied yourself to me, but I know that is not true. I wish you to act on your own accords and honor me with your deeds. Thus, you could never offend me, Solas, even if you tried.”

The way she said his name made him shiver. It sounded so different from the way his mistress had said it. As if Mythal was proud of him, not for being a particularly powerful spirit, but for freeing himself at last.

“Go on, now”, she said and gifted him with an encouraging smile. “Take off the vallaslin and leave your past behind.”

“But I don’t know how,” he admitted. “Will you help me?”

“Oh, no.” Mythal shook her head slightly. “You are perfectly capable of removing the blood writing on your own. It is one of the few benefits of possessing a physical body: You may shape it to your will. But beware that you will be the first of your kind, for no other elvhen had felt the desire to take the vallaslin away. It will be a wonder to behold.”

He looked at her for a moment, baffled by her confidence in him. How could she be so sure about his power when he himself doubted it so much?

Before he knew it, she took his hand into her own and squeezed them. “Do it,” she urged. “I know you can.”

Encouraged by her words, he slowly, very slowly, allowed himself to believe in his own strengths.

She let go and he stretched out his hands before him. With every fiber of his body, he opened up to the energy of the Fade, allowing it to fill him up like wine poured into a golden goblet. Sparks of light spread from his fingertips across his palm, a flash of blue and green and white, mingled together.

He brought his hands up to his face and closed his eyes. In his mind, he pictured the fine lines of the vallaslin once more. He saw it burn, bright as day. Then he traced his fingers across his face, imagining the light from his hands spreading across his skin. He felt a soft tingle and then a sting on his forehead.

When he was done, he breathed a sigh of relief.

“Did I work?” he asked Mythal, and she beamed at him, proud like a mother.

“You left a scar,” she said softly, touching a small spot above his right eyebrow. “But yes, it worked.”

She was so close to him he could feel the warmth of her body, but he did not mind.

“I’d rather wear a scar on my face then any vallaslin,” he told her, “for I created it myself.”

“You will bring glory to The People,” she said. “I’m proud to call you kin.”

And then, the tears finally came.

He closed his arms around Mythal’s slender figure and buried his face against her shoulder. And while he wept, his body shaking, she remained silent and held him like a mother would.

After a while, he ran out of tears and became very still in her arms. A part of him waited for her to push him away, now that he had freed himself of his mistress’s influence completely. But instead, Mythal waited until he himself was ready to let go.

“What happens now?” he asked in a raspy voice.

“That is up to you. With your mistress gone, you are free to go wherever you please in the Waking world. Vir Dirthara might be a good place to start. I’m sure Ghil Dirthalen will be happy to offer you guidance.”

“I will consider it,” he said. “Thank you, All-Mother.”

“You may call me Mythal.”

He smiled for what felt like the first time in ages. “I could never do that.”

They looked at each other for a moment. A bond had built between them and they both knew it. Their spirits were joined for as long as they might live and they were united in thankfulness for this rare gift.

“I should leave,” he said at last. “I have taken enough of your time.”

Mythal sighed. “I’m afraid you have,” she said. “There are other matters to attend to. But I hope you will return soon, my friend, and tell me what you have learned while we were apart.”

“I will. I promise.”

And with that, he made his way to the door. When he had entered the throne room, he had been a spirit, bound by the will of another. Now he had become something different. He was scared of what awaited him outside these halls, afraid of the world and the future and his own powers, but he would find a way for himself.

“Oh, one more thing.”

Mythal spoke in a low voice but her words carried all the way to the throne room’s door without fading.

He turned around to face her once more, his hands clasped behind his back. “Yes, All-Mother?”

Mythal’s face lit up as their eyes met. She reminded him of the moon rising over a mountain ridge in a dark and stormy night. It was in that moment that she earned his undying devotion, his eternal love, and gratitude.

“Despite any regret or pain or guilt you might feel,” she said with a glimmer in her golden eyes, “you should be proud of yourself. Always.”

....

[solani-and-ashe]

Coming of Age

You hadn’t expected Montag to ask for THAT of all things on his birthday. Much less so... blatantly. As the heiress of the Deer Tribe that roamed the lowlands where the Scourge of the South roamed, it was common they came to demand tribute. Payment for protection. Montag wasn’t… cruel so much as he was forceful, downright snobby if you really wanted to gain his ire. He never hurt you, but he did so love to tease you, sometimes be bratty and saying you had to kiss him as a personal form of payment for the protection he offered. Not that you did. You tended to slap him which only made him laugh, promising you’d regret it one day. He was a friend of sorts. He did protect you- he’d fought off the Bear tribe one year, killing a man who’s gone so far to grab you and try to ride off with you. Montag had been the one to cut him down, carry you back to your people with the grin of victory in his face. Yet even when he pushed and demanded, he never forced. Just told you one day, you’d be his.

 Well, now that day had come, and per his coming of age, Montag was allowed to demand 1 gift from your tribe. And naturally, he chose you. A war bride he said, as soon he’d be the king, and it was only fitting that he would take his bride from the war he’d been having with you since you were children.

You’d gotten the news weeks ago and much to your loathing, you parents, as well and Montag’s seemed to find it acceptable. Morga had too which perhaps the most surreal. In her own words, if he could claim you and no one fought for you, it was your own fault to allow yourself to be taken by a boy not yet a man.

 Though, looking at him now, half nude and flushed with desire and lust burning in his eyes, you were not sure when exactly, he’d become a man in the first place.

“You know,” he said grinning, “I’m not considered a real man till I’ve had my first night with a woman.” You were just weeks older- and your birthday certainly hadn’t involved… well… sex.

You blushed, not sure to be flattered your childhood rival, antagonist, (and reluctant crush if you were honest with yourself), wanted his first time to be with you. Another virgin. It was slow, how he undressed you, peeling away the soft deerskin leggings and vest, kissing your skin as it became exposed. You’d call him a liar if you didn’t know the truth of his lack of lovers. Montag was gentle, surprisingly so as he smiled when you gathered the courage to look at him, slowly unwrapping you like his most cherished gift.

 Perhaps you were.

Cherished, that is.

“You know,” the cotton tunic pulled up and over your head, you gasped as his callused hands grabbed your breasts, swirling your nipples under his thumbs. “I would rather have courted you but-“ His kiss was sharp, his mouth tasting like spiced wine. “I knew if I didn’t claim you, someone else would.”

It was true, loath you were to admit it. A woman by law, men had already begun to eye you, and if Montag hadn’t demanded you- some other of his tribe surely would have come next season when they’d collect the tribute.

 “I-“ He kissed you again silencing your words. You wanted to tell him that it shouldn’t be like this. Tribes at war, taking women and supplies like savages. It wasn’t right- to have people go hungry, to die from simple things and to be forced to fight just to survive. To pretend you were a war bride, and not a willing lover to the only man who’d ever showed you that he wanted you, and fight to make you smile as he’d once done when you were but children. That you would chose him any day, flaws and foolishness and all, because he cared. You knew no matter what came he would fight for you, and like when you’d been almost taken, he’d come for you every time you needed him.

 “I promise.” He whispered, peeling away his own leggings, cock bobbing in the air, “One day, I’ll give you the life you deserved.”

 He was gentle, and when he came he kissed you sweetly, touching you until you followed him into bliss. You smiled to him, falling asleep in his arms, not knowing he planned to kill his parents and ascend to the tribe’s throne.

 Montag would weep when he realized he’d failed. His mother lived. And you- you had held him, kissed him, smiled and laughed for him, shared his joy in his triumph over his father. Your prince you called him- Yet he failed. He’d been forced to run, leaving you behind. You were his war bride. He hoped his mother would treat you well. Even if a ‘war bride’, he’d wed you under common law, and you could sew, hunt, forriage. You could be useful to Morga.

Montag looked back the way he’d come one last time. He’d come back he told himself. He’d come back. Rich, powerful, and you’d take your place by his side. His princess, his queen.

 Years later, Lucio would hold up the soft deerskin cloak, and wonder if the deal really had been worth it.

[andaneum]

No Longer Alone: A Reylo Fanfic Chapter 1

          When Ben offered the galaxy to Rey, he never thought she would say no to him. But what if she'd said no because she'd had a better offer for him to consider? They run, leaving everything behind and creating a new life for themselves. That is until they learn that running isn't so easy when the galaxy needs you to return to the fight...

3 Years Earlier... 

         The blue glow shot from the end of the lightsaber, spearing the guard’s helmet. He dropped to the floor, dead, as Kylo rose to his feet. His eyes never left Rey’s, anchoring him to the present as everything he had done hit him full force.

          He had spent his whole life under the influence of others. First his parents, then his uncle, the Jedi, the expectations people had of his bloodline, all while suffering that dark voice dragging against the nerves in his brain. But now, the silence was deafening, screaming through his brain that somehow, something was different, something was wrong. He had killed Snoke. And now his master’s voice was gone, Kylo’s mind finally his own, and he had no idea what to do next.

          Rey turned from him, her eyes releasing him and allowing him to take note of his surroundings. The bodies of Snoke’s elite Praetorian guards were scattered around the room, the curtains burned away entirely to show the full extent of the massacre still occurring on the tiny transports before them. Blood stained the ground in ever-growing pools, released by those unfortunate guards who had not been killed by lightsaber, but by their own blades and spears. The grotesque, disfigured body of his former master was split in half, one hand still resting on the arm of the throne. Kylo did not regret what he had done, not for a second, but the lack of guilt did not allow him any comfort. He was a ship set adrift on a stormy sea. He no longer had a place in the galaxy, nothing to anchor him but those eyes. He needed her by his side.

          The galaxy would never understand them, the power they wielded, even his own family had abandoned him to it’s mercy. But she would not, she never would. No matter his actions, no matter the extent to which her hatred of him grew, she would never judge him for his abilities. He had seen inside her mind and knew how she felt for him, the compassion she had for him that mirrored his own for her. But how could they be together? There was a line that divided them, a question of morality, and it seemed that neither would ever be willing to give even an inch to the other. She may have seen the light that still burned within him, but she was blind to how much that light relied on the darkness. Instead she seemed determined to drive out the darkness, to mould him into another Jedi, as she perceived herself to be. He knew that he would never survive such a transformation.  

          And yet he’d seen their future, it was a vision he would forever have burned into his mind. It had been of the two of them together, almost childlike in it’s simplicity. He could not tell you where they had been in his vision, at what point in the future it was, any real details other than that they had been together. He had felt their bond, alive and burning like a fire in their minds, always together no matter how far apart they were. He hadn’t killed Snoke for her, the pull and influence his master had had over his mind had been too strong to be destroyed by a mere scavenger. But for this trust and belonging he had felt in their joint future? For the hope that such a future might come to pass? He would see the entire galaxy in flames to ensure that it did.

          ‘The fleet,’ she called, ‘order them to stop firing. There’s still time to save the fleet’. Her words barely registered. There must be something, anything that he could say to get her to remain with him.

           ‘Ben?’ He would be her future, no one else needed her like he did.

           ‘It’s time for old things to die. Snoke, Skywalker, the Sith, the Jedi, the rebels, let it all die.’ He turned to watch her reactions, stepping closer and closer to her. It was all he could offer her and yet it was everything, he would give her the galaxy, the planets, the moons, the stars. Now that Snoke was dead it was all his to give, he was the most powerful man in the galaxy and it was all in his power to give.

          ‘Rey’, his hand, reaching out for her as though reaching out to tempt a wild animal, ‘I want you to join me’.

          ‘We can rule together, bring a new order to the galaxy.’ He would bring the galaxy to heel. People would bow at their feet and they would become untouchable. And together, they would have the power to destroy everything that had come before, to wash away their past lives and their past sins and begin anew, away from the cruel legacies of their parents. Yet, somehow, seeing the look forming on her face as he spoke, she seemed almost… he could barely place the emotion. Was it sadness? Anger? Disappointment? He was offering her the chance to erase everything, to rule the galaxy by his side, why would she not take it from him?

          ‘Don’t do this Ben, please don’t go this way.’ He could feel his emotions roiling under the surface, monsters fighting against their restraints and begging to be released. He could almost hear Snoke’s deep, resonating voice again, whispering in his ear. She would resist you? A scavenger! You offer her the galaxy because you are weak. You offer her your supplication because you are weak. You accept her refusals because you are WEAK! His brow furrowed as he tried to block out the voice ringing inside his own head. She was still trying to convince herself of her allegiance to the light, she would never accept him, his darkness, until she had let go of what she had been taught.

          ‘No, no, you’re still holding on. Let go!’ He knew what it was that she truly couldn’t let go of. It wasn’t the general, her traitorous friends or the resistance that she was clinging to so fiercely, but the vaguest memories she had of her parents. He had felt it within her, the resolve to be ‘good’ in the hopes that this would earn her the return of her parents. It was the ideology of a child, an ideology he himself had adhered to once, long ago, and one that she needed to be set free from. It was the greatest gift he could give to her, even more so than the death of his master. He would free her from the shadows of her parents, as he had been, and the hope that they would ever return for her. He would show her how similar they were to one another.

          ‘Do you want to know the truth about your parents? Or have you always known?’

          He slowly began to walk towards her, if he was to speak the truth of their connection aloud then no one else in the galaxy would hear it.

          ‘You’ve just hidden it away.’ This secret, this thing that bound them together would be theirs and no one else’s. The world may only see her as a scavenger, in truth she WAS only a scavenger, but to him she was so much more than that. She was a kindred spirit, someone else who had known the betrayal of a family and he wanted no others to know of this truth that they shared. It was something that belonged to them alone.

          ’You know the truth, say it’ He moved closer, towering over her as if trying to physically press the answers out of her.

          ‘Say it’ He whispered.

          ‘They were nobody’

          ‘They were filthy junk traders, who sold you off for drinking money.’ Her breath caught at the revelations he was laying before her. It was breaking her heart to finally admit what she’d always known, yet all he could feel was gratitude to the drunkards who had brought her into the world. In leaving her behind on Jakku they had made her his equal. They had bestowed upon her the same pain that he had been forced to bear for so many years and planted within her a darkness that would never leave her.

          ‘They’re dead, in a pauper’s grave in the Jakku desert. You have no place in this story.’ Finally, her sobs began in earnest. Tears created streaked lines that ran through the dirt and sweat covering her face. Yes, it would hurt her now, but in time she would become stronger for it. They would become stronger for it as she left everything behind. She would come to realise that she would have a place in the story, from then on. Her connection to him would make her a part of the story.

          ’You come from nothing, you’re nothing.’ A flash of red cut sharply through the pain he could feel coming from her side of the bond. She was angry at him and her eyes narrowed slightly even as her tears continued to fall.

          ‘But not to me.’ And that was what had confused him most. He was a prince, heir to the most powerful bloodline in the galaxy. He shared the blood of Sith lords and Jedi masters, of Queens and so-called ‘war heroes’. She was a filthy Jakku scavenger. She shared the blood of drunkards, people who would pawn away their child in the hopes it would earn them just a little more sustenance for their addictions. Who knew what other secrets lay in her family history; peasants, addicts, criminals, the worst that society had to offer no doubt. And yet to him she could never be nothing.

          ‘Join me’ Kylo’s hand reached out to her, just as hers had done for him only hours before. Everything in him was screaming out to just take her, but he knew that would not work this time. Before Starkiller, before the bond, before she had touched him and caused his visions… maybe. Now though? She was no longer afraid of him; her powers had manifested themselves into a raw strength he had only ever felt within himself. Her eyes flicked to his hand and it subconsciously opened further to her. He was so desperate for her to stay, he would say anything to make her stay.

          ‘Please’

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

           She’d seen their future, it had been solid and clear in her head. They’d been together, their bond washing away the loneliness that had been the only legacy left to her by her parents. And even though she had begun to build a new family around herself, it would never be the same. They would never understand the thin line she walked, the balance that held the galaxy together and the force that flowed through her, becoming just another facet of her own being. Even Leia, a woman with the potential of the Skywalker blood flowing through her veins, refused to understand. When her own son had manifested these abilities, she had chosen to send him away rather than deal with the growing darkness within him. Leia and Han had been the cause of so many betrayals, just as her own parents had been, and Rey felt the echoes of Ben’s lingering pain through their force bond. In so many ways, they were the same.

           Rey reached for Kylo’s hand, her own small fingers encompassing his much larger ones. She held onto his wrist, her eyes leaving his to look down at what she was doing. Moving to the hem of his glove, peeling it slowly down his hand until it was bared to her. She would not speak to Kylo, masked and covered and disguised.

           ‘Ben,’ her eyes flew back to his, ‘come with me’.

           ‘No’ His hand suddenly gripped hers, causing her to flinch at the unexpected burst of pain, and she could sense his feelings rushing out through their bond; the rage and anger and betrayal that Kylo… no, that Ben felt. He had sacrificed everything for their shared vision of the future. His master lay dead on the floor behind them. Yet what had she given? Dragging him back to the resistance, back to the general, she would have everything, and he would have only her to cling to. They would never accept him back and he would never accept their skewed moralities, their belief that only theirs was the correct path.

           ‘You’re right, Ben,’ his grip on her hand loosened slightly, ‘I’d never ask you to go to the resistance. You don’t belong there; but you don’t belong here either.’ She gently pulled on his open hand, pulling him a step closer to her and looking up into his face. His eyes, where only a moment before they had been alight with rage, were suddenly blown wide open. He looked so vulnerable in that moment. He was no longer in charge of their negotiations, was no longer the one offering her everything. Instead it was Rey, a mere scavenger, who held all the power.

          ‘We’ll run, as far as we need to go to be safe from them all. If we can’t live in each other’s worlds, then we’ll create our own. Just please, order them to stop firing.’ This was it, this was what she would give up to be with him. Her burgeoning family; Finn and Leia and Chewie, even BB-8, she would leave them all behind her but at least she would know that they were safe.

           ‘Let it all go, Ben. Snoke, Luke, Leia, Han, the First Order, all of it.’ There was a pause, ‘Please’.

           For a moment, everything was still. She could feel her pulse racing loudly in her ears as he considered her offer. He turned slightly away from her, extending his free hand to pull the Skywalker lightsaber towards him. Every nerve ending in her body was screaming out, a residual scavenger instinct of never allowing herself to be unarmed, especially in the presence of someone so dangerous and unstable. But she tamped her feelings down. She would trust him.

           He rolled the lightsaber over and over in his palm, it was instantly familiar and practically singing in his hand. Only a short time before he would have destroyed her to get his hands on his family lightsaber. But he now knew that it wasn’t his anymore. He had his own lightsaber, cracked and unstable and roughly made, but undeniably his. He handed his grandfather’s lightsaber over to its rightful inheritor, studying her face closely as he did so and seeing it relax at feeling the familiar weight in her palm. He almost roughly grabbed her chin, still not used to human contact that didn’t involve violence and humiliation, and tilted her face upwards to meet his gaze.

           ‘Together?’ He whispered. She knew what he was asking of her, he was trusting her with everything he was. All the parts of Kylo and Ben that made up the man before her- the darkness, and the light. He was trusting her in the same way he had trusted his parents, and then his Jedi master, and then Snoke. She had the power to destroy him and he was asking her instead for her help to rebuild, to fix the parts of himself he had thought gone forever. She smiled at him warmly.

           ‘We’ll never have to be alone again’

           He dragged her to him, lips crashing together. It took her a moment to overcome her shock, but she quickly responded, throwing her hand and the lightsaber it clutched around his neck. Rey knew exactly what this was, there was no romance behind this, no lust momentarily clouding his mind. This was need, a pure need to be with someone who would understand his torment and to no longer feel alone in the galaxy. Kylo had been right when he’d peered into her mind on Starkiller.

          You’ve been so lonely; every moment on Jakku had been so terrifyingly lonely, but not anymore, she refused to be alone anymore.

          Don’t be afraid, I feel it too; words said in a different time with different meaning, yet now she understood them perfectly.

          His own free hand curved around the back of her head, grasping her to him as his thumb moved fiercely and erratically against her cheek and jaw. Their lips were clumsy against each other, their grips too tight and their pulses running too fast. But in that moment, neither cared. This was their future. Together.  

Chapter 2

[that-one-companion-cube]

Viking’s Vendetta

A hooded figure walked through the snowy streets of Reykjavik, A scarf covered their face to guard them from the cold from being so far north. The imprints on the snow left from their boots were stained with blood and dirt, bloodstained hands clutching a dagger that reeked of metallic blood. The person in question was on their way to see someone, they required intel that only that person had.

“At it again, Narra…” the familiar gruff voice of Narra’s father echoed. “Pabbi… I don’t wanna go see it!” the young girl cried, earning a sigh from her father. “I know, the wound is still fresh, but I made a promise to her-"

The memory cut off once she arrived, opening the door to the small shop. “Halló? Ástrós?” Narra called out before hearing shuffling from the back room. “Sorry! Sorry, I’m in here,” Ástrós responded, hearing as Narra walked through the shop to see her cousin. “Is that hunter dead?” Ástrós asked, turning to Narra after stepping off the wooden stool she was using to place an item on a shelf. “I should hope so, I did stab him,” was the response given as the taller female took off the cloak and scarf, “We’ll need to clean these,” she commented. Lose strands of golden blonde hair stuck to her face, stained with sweat, blood and condensation. “Maybe you should sit down and relax, you know where the living room is,” her cousin spoke with a small smile. Narra nodded and walked through, “I’m getting changed first.”

Narra walked up to her room and turned to the mirror, yes, she had the usual humour, but she felt a shell of the person she once was, she never felt complete. Dull blue eyes, once so lively, stared back at her. She let out a sigh and walked to the bathroom, hoping to be able to take a bath first.

“Pabbi! Pabbi! Please no! Don’t lock me up!” a nine-year-old Narra cried, kicking and screaming as her father dragged her to the village dungeons. “You will stay locked up until you learn to behave! Your mother is so disappointed in you!” the man screamed back. “Mamma died years ago,” she spoke softly, whimpering as her father threw her into the cell and locked the door. “Yes, and you prevented me from saving her from that damned fire!” the man shouted before walking off.

Narra got out of the tub and quickly dried herself off before dressing herself in trousers and a loose-fitting linen shirt. She quickly slipped on her boots before walking down to see Ástrós. “Well look who finally decided to join me,” the blonde spoke with a smirk, putting down the book she was reading. “Was that book imported from England?” Narra asked, sitting down. Ástrós hummed in response before standing up. “Would you like a drink?” she asked, pulling out two goblets as she already knew the answer. Narra nodded, making her cousin smile. “I managed to lay my hands on some Italian red wine, I know how much you like that stuff,” Ástrós spoke with a giddy smile as she handed one of the goblets to Narra before sitting back down and taking a sip. “Anyway, I was wondering when you were planning on returning to Norway,” she inquired as she raised the goblet to her lips for another sip. “What’s it to you?” Narra joked with a small chuckle, “But no, all jokes aside, I will be returning on the occasion that my father is on his death bed, I mean, somebody’s gotta take over after the old man dies,” she said before clearing her throat. “Yes, provided that nobody finds out that you’re a bastard.” “I doubt that’d happen, I look like my mother.” “Still… might happen…” Ástrós pointed out, she was worried about her cousin. “They can’t legally take the throne away from me anyway, my father used my mother’s surname.” “Fair enough.” The two would continue to chatter until they bid each other goodnight.

“Is she still breathing?” someone asked, the voice unfamiliar. The young girl opened her eyes slowly, quickly closing them from the sunlight outside that had seeped in through the curtains. “Ow…” she whimpered quietly as she sat up, groaning softly in agony. “Nei, you need to rest…” the voice began to become clearer, and the girl recognised it as her aunt’s. Narra huffed and laid back down, her entire body felt stiff as it stung. “The fire… you were burnt. You’re okay, your father is trying to search for any other survivors before they begin the rebuild,” her aunt spoke softly. “Auntie Petra? H… how long have I been asleep for?” Narra asked, she was frightened out of her mind. “Two weeks, don’t worry, you’re fine…”

Narra woke up the next morning and walked out to check if they had received any mail. She took the envelopes that were placed on the windowsill and flipped through them quickly before noticing one with the stamp of the Norwegian royal family. The letter was addressed to her, so she opened it, silently praying that it was her father’s advisor saying that he was either deathly ill or severely wounded. She read the letter carefully, a smile slowly growing as she would read more of the text that had been written. Her father had been assassinated by one of his own government officials, meaning that she needed to get home ASAP. “Ástrós! I’m going to be queen!” she yelled out, causing the Icelander, who was still in bed and asleep, to scream and fall out of bed from shock, mainly at the sudden loudness. “Wait, what?” she yelled, running out to see a giddy Narra. “Do you need me to polish the saddle on your Pegasus?” Ástrós asked as she crossed her arms. “That would be preferred, boats take too long.” “Fair enough. Oh, and good to see you smiling again…”

“Perhaps we can come to an agreement.” “An agreement? Are you insane Harald? Wait, I get it, you don’t want to marry your daughter off to my sone when she comes of age… I should’ve known… you WILL regret this!” the mysterious man who had been speaking with Harald for the past hour had stormed out of the house. Harald noticed Narra sitting on the stairs, hugging her knees to her chest. “Nachie? What are you doing up, your mother’s asleep, you know how she gets when you stay up late.” He spoke softly as he picked up his daughter. “Pabbi? Who was that?” Narra asked, clinging to Harald tightly. “A friend, don’t worry, you’re staying here with us.”

Narra took a step onto Norwegian snow for the first time in over a decade, walking through the maze of people coming to attend the funeral ceremony of the late King Harald. Through the crowd, she noticed a familiar face before scowling. She watched the man leave to her father’s study.

“He wants control over Norway, I want to unify it.” Harald explained to his daughter after placing her in her bed gently and tucking her in. He gently reached over and tucked a strand out of Narra’s face, smiling softly at her. But their peaceful moment didn’t last long, as they heard the horrified cries and pleas of the village people.

Narra followed the man to the study, pulling out her dagger, hiding it up her sleeve. “Greetings,” she spoke calmly, knowing he didn’t recognise her now. “It’s a sad day, isn’t it? Such a powerful and brave man dying at the hands of some cruel monster. The same one that burnt Layden all those years ago.” The man nodded, trying not to look suspicious, but was failing.

“I killed him.” “Pabbi! You’re alive!” Narra spoke with a smile, running up to hug her father. Harald had assassinated the man who had burned his village and killed his wife, at least, who he though did that. It was actually one of his soldiers who had a disguise spell put on him so the actual perpetrator was never found.

“You disguised yourself to be one of my pabbi’s other friends so you could become his advisor, assuming that I had been married off and that you’d get the throne… such a pitiful fool…” Narra purred as she approached him. “Good to see you again, Klemen,” Narra’s voice dripped with venom as the man took a step back. Narra raised the blade and slashed his stomach. “That’s for burning the village,” another slash was done to his chest. “That’s for my father,” she grabbed him by the hair and pulled him close before slowly dragging the blade across his throat, making him gasp frantically, trying to breath. “And that is for my mother…”

“Never blindly trust anyone.” -Ashton V.T., the author

Written by Ashton V.T.

A/N: Hallo! Yes, this story is confusing, that’s because you’re supposed to read the paragraphs in italics to learn of Narra’s past, as the regular text is her preparing for taking revenge without her father punishing her for her actions. There is minimal use of magic, and way less violence than the original version of this. Do I care that it’s badly written? No. Would I have sent the original? If I was allowed to, but I legit had my dad say it was too gritty.

[karasunosun]

TsukiHina Royalty AU Backstory

I detailed the royalty au more. @assholeprincetsukishima, please feel free to take Tsukki’s backstory and change it to your liking.

Shouyou

Shouyou is the first born son of the King and Queen. He belongs to the Hinata household, a royal family of the gold and white sun. His father was a kind King who brought peace to the kingdom when he won the crown. Shouyou’s birth was met with joy and celebration as the first born. The castle’s bells rang for hours on end to announce his birth. Without a doubt he was the king’s son with his bright red hair and cheerful smile. Shouyou was raised with the hope that he would never have to fight for his crown. His father worked hard to make peace with their enemies, just to keep him safe. The focus of his studies was more how to rule rather than how to fight. To balance this, others were trained to protect the young ruler. Shouyou has two older half brothers from his mother’s side who became knights in order to protect him. His maternal uncles were already experienced warriors who joined the king’s guard to defend them as well. His two paternal uncles swore an oath to protect him at all costs. He had a strong circle of allies to protect him as he learned and grew.

With his father working hard to make his kingdom safe, Shouyou spent more time with his mother and her family. He learned much from them, especially his maternal grandmother. He loved listening to her stories of family history, love, war, fairy tales or just plain gossip. He always knew that his mother and grandmother were different. Their intuition was incredibly sharp and the things they talked about were strange. The first time he got a close look into their magic, he was about seven years old. His father’s cousin had recently betrayed them and he was sailing to another kingdom to meet with their enemies. His mother was hurt by his betrayal since he had killed her brother and father in cold blood. They didn’t do anything wrong and it hurt. His grandmother took it the hardest since she had lost both a son and a husband. In their grief, Shouyou witnessed them conjuring a storm in hopes of sinking the cousin’s boat. It backfired in the worst possible way and to this day, his mother refuses to talk about it.

Growing up, Shouyou and his family experienced a lot of betrayal. His father’s cousin and middle brother betrayed them to steal the crown. They failed the first time but succeeded the second time with the help of their enemy, the Tsukishima family. Shouyou and his family had to hide in sanctuary twice, especially since his life as the first born was in danger. The people loved the Hinata family and that made the heir a threat to their enemies if they wanted to rule. Once Shouyou’s father defeated his cousin in battle and won the crown once more, the road was still rocky. Shouyou’s father forgave his brother and imprisoned the Tsukishima king until his death. The Tsukishima King’s heir died in battle and his line had ended. The next in line for the Tsukishima family had fled the kingdom and was not considered a threat. Years later, the brother betrayed the King once more and was sentenced to death. After that, there was peace.

Shouyou grew up to be a young strong adult learning about politics, history and diplomacy. His younger sister Natsu also grows up into her early teenage years watching sword fights in awe. Their father gives her a starter sword to practice with, wanting to teach her everything he knows. Meanwhile Shouyou’s mother notices that Shouyou ended up with their affinity instead of Natsu as she expected. She teaches him basics such as scrying and card reading. Despite this, they did not foresee that the King would fall ill shortly after Shouyou’s 20th birthday.

The King was struck with a high fever and kept coughing up blood. Nothing could help him at that point. He passes away a few weeks later but not before preparing everything. He declared that his younger brother will be lord protector for Shouyou. He will take care of the king’s responsibilities until Shouyou can be crowned after a period of mourning. He voiced his regret that he cannot witness what kind of King his son will be but that he was still proud of him. With his passing, chaos began once again.

Kei

Kei is the second born son of the Earl Tsukishima. He belongs to the Tsukishima family, a royal family of the blood red moon. He is the nephew of the Tsukishima king who ruled the kingdom before Shouyou’s father. The king only had one heir, which puts Kei’s older brother Akiteru next in line for the throne and Kei after him. Kei was born after the Hinata king came into power and had his first born son. His family was allowed to keep their lands and titles despite being long time rivals of the Hinata family. The kind king only wanted to make peace with his enemies, which Kei and Akiteru grew up seeing and admiring. Many of their family members wanted to put the old Tsukishima king back in power despite the fact that he was cruel towards his people. Kei grew up surrounded by plots and talks of war within his family. He just wanted the fighting to stop.

He and his brother Akiteru were trained to become knights per their mother’s suggestion. She had hopes that one of her sons could become king one day. Their father used to be a commander and fully trained them himself. The brothers enjoyed learning how to fight but they had no desire to rule.

As the boys grew, the king would petition for them to be part of his son’s court. The king wanted to make peace and wanted to offer the family a position in the court. The boys’ mother refused every offer, not wanting her sons to be affiliated with the young Hinata prince. She felt it would ruin her sons’ chances of ruling under the Tsukishima family. The Tsukishima king was still out there; his family was waiting for the right moment to strike back for the crown. The boys grew up strong, safely in their lands until Akiteru became of age. Then he left home and accepted the king’s offer to be a part of his court.

The Tsukishima family did not take the ‘betrayal’ well. Kei himself was conflicted. Akiteru didn’t tell him he was going to do this and leave him alone at home. At the same time, he was jealous. He wished he could leave and join the court as well. He’s heard a lot about the royal court and of the young prince his age. He’s always been intrigued about the royal family who brought peace and won the love of the people. With Akiteru gone, Kei realizes that now their mother is going to put all her hopes of her son being king on him. At first he ignores Akiteru’s letters and gifts until he slowly forgives him over the years.

The first time Kei goes to the castle is when the Tsukishima king stole back the crown with the help of the Hinata king’s brother and cousin. The royal family had fled to sanctuary while the Hinata king left to seek help from allies. Despite the castle’s beauty, the environment was strange. The court members were somber at the Tsukishima king’s return. Kei went with his parents to visit and meet his uncle the king for the first and last time. The king blessed him and named him his heir. His own son died in the battle to win the crown and had no more heirs. He names Kei as his successor and heir since Akiteru is now loyal to the Hinata family. Kei had hoped to see his brother during his visit but Akiteru was gone, protecting the royal family he believes is true.

Not long after, the Hinata king comes back ready to battle. His allies consisted of noblemen, common folk and soldiers from neighboring kingdoms. His own brother who betrayed him came back to fight with him, admitting his own foolishness and wanting redemption. Hinata’s father defeats the Tsukishima king in battle and wins his crown once more. His cousin dies in battle, his brother’s titles are restored and the Tsukishima king is imprisoned in the tower until his death. Kei was now the next in line for their family. Kei’s mother makes a difficult decision and sends her son Kei away with his father to allies in a neighboring kingdom. He is to train and raise an army there in hopes of winning the crown once he’s older. His mother stays and makes another difficult decision. She swallows her pride and accepts the offer to be a part of the Queen Hinata’s court. It gives her the opportunity to spy on the royal family for her son.

Kei spent years in exile in another kingdom; training, learning and gaining allies for his cause. He comes of age strong but hesitant. He never forgot about his home and how kind the royal family was. He admired how they ruled the kingdom, doing everything for the people and bringing peace. Kei only wished to end the wars that have gone back and forth for years. Shortly before his 20th birthday, Kei received an urgent letter from his mother.

A lot had happened in a short amount of time in the kingdom. The Hinata king passed away from illness, leaving his youngest brother as lord protector until his son and heir Shouyou can be crowned. The youngest brother used his power as lord protector, convinced the court that the marriage between the late King and the queen was a farce and that makes Shouyou and his sister illegitimate to the throne. He then took the crown for himself as a true Hinata heir and imprisoned the young prince in the tower. The kingdom was outraged and retaliated out of love for the late king and his family. The new king had hoped that taking away Shouyou’s right to the throne would make the people loyal to him, but it backfired and now the people are against him. The Hinata queen reached out for help, fearing that her son’s life is in danger because of this.

Kei’s mother sees this as an opportunity and asks him to come back with his army. Through letters between him and the queen, a deal is made. If Kei assists in rescuing Shouyou from the tower and is successful, the queen offers him her son’s hand in marriage. If they marry, a Hinata and a Tsukishima could rule the kingdom together and end the wars with their unity. Both houses and armies can come together and win the crown from the usurper. Kei agrees to the plan and goes back home with his army ready. It was only a matter of time until he was to be engaged so he doesn’t hesitate. This way, everyone gets what they want. Kei’s mother will have a king. Shouyou’s mother gets her son back and he will be king as well. Kei gets to bring peace to the kingdom for good and that’s all he ever wanted.

[princebxte-blog]

Chapter 2 || Un monstre

υ η - м σ η s т я ε

Christmas was upon the castle of Charlemagne. The mountains were covered in snow, and everything was in high spirits for the holidays. About as high as one could be, that is… Except myself. My mentor kept close, and I did all that I could to avoid making him angry with me. As much as his abuse haunted me… He began letting up just a tiny bit with me. I could actually breathe, and there were times where I would take walks all on my lonesome through the gardens, through the secret passages of the castle. But because of the situation with the nearby town Alsace, and it’s increasing need for administrative authority… My time was strained to focus on that. I was a child, I knew of the government and how to run one. I graduated years before my peers… So of course I knew best. My mentor however, was keen on making sure to influencing me further. Making me make decisions with his bias. He’d tell me what to choose, and gave me a look when I might decide out of his favor… Some times these actions were ruthless, cold… And I felt ill to act such a way. What might the townspeople think of their prince? I even agreed to execute a man who stole bread for his family, though… It was only because he lost his job, as the cost of my decision, or rather … My mentors. This stealing was a petty offense, but my mentor wanted me to make an example of him. To set him to death by hanging. The town was outraged, and I felt like this was going to be a rough life… Could I truly live with myself for this? The moment they were to hang him, I stopped and told the people it would not happen. That I’d share the castle’s bread with the families that lost their employment. My Mentor was not pleased, to the point of making them execute this man, purposefully pulling the level which gave way to the man’s support and he fell to his death. I was blamed. As it was my mentor, a part of my committee… And my mentor reminded me that night, who was to rule and how it was done… He gave me a lesson I would never forget. The little voice in my head began to strengthen with resistance to this evil that was being done to me… I had a realization, and just before I passed out due to my mentor strangling me into unconsciousness I made a decision to do something about him. To take back my kingdom. When I awoke, It was Christmas eve…

¢ н α и g є я

At this point in my life, my mind had been coddling itself. You know that little voice in your head? They call is a conscience, the glimmer of hope you feel… It is said to be a human trait to have this. I clung to this hope, this feeling for dear life. Relying on it at all times, and tugged on it in even the desperate times. Well this… This was one of those times. This voice telling me I’d be alright, that things were going to change for the better today. That I had the plan to kill my mentor. I was going to slit his throat, I was going to murder him… And then… Maybe explain myself. I was a 12 year old boy with more authority then a governor, then a judge… I had great power, great pressure… And the abuse never ceased. Today was going to change. The day felt surreal, but I went on… Thinking to myself, using my conscience as a conversation partner. I held my head up on the arm rest of my throne acting like I was bored. It was awful really, but this façade I held was so profound, it seemed to take over even when the man who created this… Monster in me, wasn’t even present. I looked around the room, wondering where he had gone… But then a shout came from down the hall and a very pissed looking teacher of mine held a book up… My diary Oh… He must have found it, and read it! I didn’t mean to confess my plans, truly I was just a boy with a wish to be free. But this man was surely never going to let me forget Christmas… He asked to speak with me privately, expecting to yank me into the nearest closet for reasons known to only he and I at the time… But my servants, bless them… Kept my attention on what was at hand. I started to become angry when they dragged the man out of the room so to speak on my behalf, all the while a knock came from the door. Standing in complete fury and rage that my plans had been foiled I growled out at the door. Who disturbs my Christmas?! Opening the door myself, it was nothing… I nearly looked away, not noticing the figure who blended into the darkness. Short and decrepit, I had nearly passed over… But the eyes, well the one eye that I could see struck me like a knife. Then they held out a rose, more beautiful then any I’ve ever seen. It haunted me, but the eyes of this soul who had happened upon my castle stoop was too much. She asked for lodging in return for the rose. An old flower maiden, who held a basket where no doubt dozens more were, that or they were all wilted considering the frosty winds. Letting her in would be of no trouble to me, but then thinking about the man … the teacher… This mentor and what he might do if I did let her stay made me think twice… The little voice in my head telling me to turn her away out of my own safety My own…. Selfish needs, So to speak. Really it was a battle of what was right, and what I was afraid of. I casually rolled my eyes, pretending to be the spoiled brat that everyone wanted me to be I told her to go away. To find shelter elsewhere, and just like that she fainted… Or died. How could I?? I immediately wished to kneel down and help her up, but it was too late and then there was a bright light. Shielding my eyes to readjust to this, I was immediately regretting everyone decision I’ve ever made since my birth. This was no old woman, but rather a beautifully dressed woman with long blonde locks and a silver and blue gown. I heard of legends. Of Greek , roman and Irish myths talking about the magical spirits that disguise themselves and ask their mortals for lodging, and if denied they suffer a terrible fate. But my fate could have been for the better. This Enchantress told me that she had known my mother since before I was born. That the only reason I was given life was because I had to prove myself to this woman, that I was a good person. But she was wrong and because of this she wanted to take my life away. She told me that I had a cold heart, that I was going to be punished In order to learn my lesson everyone and everything would become a part of a spell that she had just cast. She said that the townspeople would forget there ever was a castle, or a prince and that the they would never be able to remember much outside of it, and the castle would forever reflect what he was and the guilt he’d receive for holding all his servants captive inside as the curse would trap them here as well. Lastly, the prince himself would of course be what he was on the inside… A Beast. She told me all of this, but in that moment my castle did not turn into anything, my servants were fine… And I was still… A person with many problems. The voice kept telling me to be afraid, that she was not lying… And yet, I didn’t want to believe. So I didn’t. Not at first My mentor came out behind me and invited her in. She was not only attractive but was adorned in peculiar garments, as well as her presence breathed nobility. I scoffed at this decision since this woman had just cursed me, and my castle, but yielded, considering his powerful glare he held over me. The woman seemed to eye him, and smile. Almost as if she could see right through him. As the hours passed, my mentor told me that he was going to escort this woman home, and as uncomfortable as I was with the two of them, both eyeing me simultaneously for different reasons all night, I felt the pressure come off of me. That was the last time I ever saw that man… It was the most peculiar night, but one I would never forget, for as the incoming months passed… My personality had no changed. I was still a bitter child with a heart that wanted to seek revenge on the world for dealing me this rough start to my young life… But over time, things did change… Slowly, my castle became a nightmarish disarray. All of the statues that portrayed saints and angels had become dark, ugly gargoyles and monters with wings, and little by little each and every night… A scream emitted into the halls, one that would frighten me out of sleep. The little voice in my head told me to keep wary, and each day was worse then the next. People were disappearing, and I hadn’t been able to investigate or learn the reasons as to why… Could that woman have been right? As time passed, that same woman appeared again, warning me of the incoming change I was to experience by the end of the year. She said she gave me more time due to the troubles I had been facing. What could that mean? But If I did not change now and find someone to love me for who I was and love them in return, I would become something far more vile and ugly then what I see in the statues of my castle. I didn’t believe her, nor did I think she had the power to curse me anymore. She was just an annoyance. If she didn’t go away, I’d have her arrested and hanging for trespassing…. She simply smiled at me, as if to mock my authority, and gave me a rose. She told me that once it died, and that I had not changed my heart… I would become a Beast forever. It was a laugh at first. Though, slowly I began to see myself changing. During that year I became even more cruel and disgusting, and my fear for this curse that slowly took one servant every night, began to make my mind go insane. The little voice telling me that if I found someone to marry me, then maybe it would show that witch I was truly good enough. I tried brushing away the thoughts that plagued me. This little voice telling me day after day htat I was in fact changing just not noticing it in the mirror because my eyes tricked me. So, for once I have my portrait painted because I wanted to see if I could see what others saw when they looked at me After receiving the result I was looking older, far more cruel then the portrait. In comparison to the portrait, my face was the servants tried calming me, telling me that I just looked more distinguished. A compliment that was a wolf in sheep’s clothing. Over a month I began to worry and panic. I began to whether as a 13 year old boy, I should be making arrangements to throw a ball and marry someone right away. Even at my young age it was not unheard of, but my closest servants gave looks that were doubtful. They didn’t believe me, and the voice in my head had become louder as we came upon the one year anniversary. My servants were disappearing. Still day after day. That is Until there were only a handful… Potts Lumiere Cogsworth… Forte etc But it wasn’t until a year later on Christmas eve that my castle would truly transform.