#so I shall simply place this here gently and then return back to my abyss of personal art

[julnites]

Main takeaway from the new pokemon game? These were a fun group of weirdos

[0v3rcast]

Gnaw (part 1)

Contains: Body Horror, Blood, Violence

You had fallen to Teyvat some time ago, pulled down from the sky by a brilliant platinum star, the elements gently beckoning for you, all of them trying to prove their land the most suitable for your descent.

"Welcome back, Sea-shaper," Hydro murmurs, their voice the babbling of streams and the roar of the angry sea all at once. "Fontaine has such sights to show you. As you created, we have created to honor your actions. For your beauty, we have made our people beautiful. You will want for nothing-"

"COME TO US, HOLY TINDER," Pyro roars, its voice the starving crackle of flame and the churning of molten rock as volcanoes erupt. "NATLAN AWAITS YOU WITH AN OFFERING OF ENDLESS PASSION. YOU SHALL NEVER GO UNPROTECTED, UNLOVED, OR HUNGRY."

"Welcome, almighty Whirlwind of Creation," Electro purrs, speaking with the rattle-boom of echoing thunder. "Shall you grace my people with your presence?"

"Welcome home, Blessed Foundation," Geo hums, their voice the whispers of sand and the ancient growl of tectonic plates shifting. "Liyue has grown prosperous since you've last seen it. Perhaps you should come to us instead, where the riches of Teyvat could be put directly to use in pleasing you?"

"Don't listen to them, First Breath! We've waited for you the longest, like, a whole forever! We were first!" Anemo pleads, in the tones of breeze softly rustling leaves and howling tornadoes. "Even if you just stop by, that's totally fine!"

"You've finally come home, Heart of Winter? Good. We have missed you so." Cryo coos, the flurrying of snow and ancient creaking of glaciers their voice. "Snezhnaya may be a harsh land, but faith is enough to warm the bodies of my people."

"Flower of Irminsul, Root of All, please! You cannot come down! Another wears your face, please turn back if only for a few more days!" Dendro howls, desperate, voice a cacophony of falling trees and leaves rustling. "You ar-"

Dendro's voice fades as you pass the point of no return and begin to burn through the sky towards Mondstadt, Anemo ripping at the air to direct your course even as the other elements rage at them for their impudence.

As you fall, the memory of this conversation fades from your mind.

Welcome home, Maker, whispers the Abyss into the back of your mind.

Since that day, your time in Teyvat had become quite difficult. Whatever hopes you'd had for this world were soundly dashed.

Mondstadt 'welcomed' you with scorn and hostility for sharing the same face as their Heiliger Schöpfer, the Divine above Divines.

You were unsure as to why they hated you so, simply for your face- especially since that face is one that's otherwise looked kindly upon in this world.

You do your best to take in the sights, all the same. Though you are confused by the frosty reception, this place is so much more interesting than the game shows.

There are many more homes and people, you see (and pet) some stray animals, pick a particularly low philanemo mushroom after a couple seconds of jumping and stretching in an attempt to reach it, and generally just enjoy the (rather tense) locale.

Your confusion became fear when the Knights of Favonius begin to chase you. You'd done no crime, why would they hunt you like this, especially with such wrathful looks on their faces?!

The closest you get to meeting any of the allogenes on friendly terms comes when you breeze past Sucrose, yelping out a greeting to her. She just watches you go, incredibly confused, before a Knight accidentally bowls her over in his maddened rush after you.

Just as you exit the gate, the Knights just behind you, yelling curses and what you presume are threats-

P a i n.

Eula Lawrence just pushed a greatsword through your lungs and out your back. You have no clue how she got here so fast, where from, or how you didn't notice her.

You gag and choke as your blood quickly rushes into the space (and out of your body, simultaneously).

With a vicious yank, she tears it from you in a diagonal motion, nearly carving you in half.

A darkly satisfied look in her eyes is all you receive when you uselessly try to gasp for air and plead for help.

Your vision begins to fade, but before you can die of blood loss her boot comes down.

(Your nascent godhood activates the moment you die, and it plots a new trajectory: your misery will shape you until such a time comes that you will never feel this suffering again.)

You wake screaming in the woods, hands coming to clutch at your chest.

A massive golden scar lies just between your xiphoid process and sternum, perfectly horizontal in a way that only comes with practice.

Your clothes are covered in the brownish rusty red of old dried blood, and quite badly torn from where you were sliced nearly in two.

Breathing feels... easier, somehow. Like your lungs didn't just heal from immense trauma.

Your stomach aches badly and your mouth feels like it's full of sand. How long have you been laying here beneath the sun?

Your attempts to rise from this resting place are fruitless. You're so exhausted you can barely move your fingers.

Darkness slowly weighs your eyelids down and you fall asleep, even though you know you should not.

---

Elsewhere in the world, a being wearing your face stares up at a statue to themselves, noting with some alarm the golden scar across its chest.

The only recent news they had about an imposter was the Lawrence outcast running one through.

Now they'll have to find some way to replicate your scar and keep up the ruse.

"The original has truly descended, then... fine." They hiss, words venomous, glaring at the face of the statue. "If I can't have this place as my playground, then they won't get to have you."

---

The next time you wake, it is night, and the hunger in your belly is gnawing at you with such fervor that you feel lightheaded.

When you stand, your head twinges with pain as if to protest even this miniscule expenditure of energy.

Your body stumbles at first, briefly overcome by vertigo, but quickly adjusts.

Your mind changes its tune completely upon seeing a plump, ripe Sunsettia growing on its branch.

You desperately scramble over to pull the Sunsettia from the tree- only for it to drop into your waiting hands as soon as you reach up.

The 'how' of this doesn't quite matter to you in the moment. You bite into the ripe fruit and moan in bliss at the tart taste of the flesh and the sweetness of the juices. Within twenty seconds, you've reduced this fruit to a nubby pit, almost like a peach has.

That's kinda neat, actually. You distantly wonder what you have to crossbreed with a peach to make Sunsettias.

You pat the tree as if to thank it, not noticing that it suddenly stands a bit straighter or how its leaves are just a tiny bit greener, and go to find a nice place to put down this future Sunsettia tree.

You eventually get bored of looking for a good place and just poke a hole into the ground with a fallen branch, then stuff the remains of your first Sunsettia into the hole.

You wander off into the woods in hopes of finding a road, unaware of the golden-leaved sapling slowly growing behind you.

With a new source of energy in your system, you feel the urge to get moving- might as well make the most of this while you have it.

Your stamina is better than before, it feels like. Distances that previously felt difficult feel easier on your legs- and definitely on your lungs.

Perhaps this has something to do with your demise?

...what's that weird whistling soun-

You fall, dead, an Anemo-enriched arrow punching through the back of your head.

For a brief moment, you dream of a place deep beneath the surface of Teyvat, and a ruined statue oozing corruption into infinite darkness.

You wake with a small headache, very hungry, and more than a little pissed. Won't people just leave you the fuck alone?

Somehow, you feel sturdier. Less breakable. As nice as that is, you don't particularly feel up to testing it.

You stand.

Perhaps you should avoid civilization from now on.

[thepaperpanda]

♥ Dangerously Perfect Match ♥ || Part III

♥Part I♥ 

♥Part II♥

Summary: Despite Earl Wolf's life is being flipped upside down, she still finds herself capable of bestowing one particular person with reconciliation and forgiveness

Warnings: Ivar 😈

Words: 10284

Authors: Cass & Rouge

Hvitserk was right - it was getting easier and easier every day. With each sunrise there was less Ivar in your memory and thoughts, he slowly stopped poisoning your mind which made you feel much better.

No more nightmares, no more doubts.

You simply carried on with all the duties of the Earl with Hvitserk by your side. He was really helpful despite your rough beginning. He was always there to help, and be the shoulder you could lean on.

If you only knew how much you would bring back from this whole journey, maybe you would have never decided to go.

Two months after returning home your body started changing, you stopped bleeding which never happened before and your belly started to grow.

After a short talk with your dear friend you decided to visit the healer. There your fears changed into reality.

You returned to the Great Hall and gave Hvitserk a soft smile, poor man was just as worried as you were.

"And what did healer say?," Hvitserk asked, offering you his arm as he gently wrapped his free hand around your waist to lead you back to your room. "You're pale like you'd have seen a ghost or any other mara," Ragnarsson claimed.

You let him walk you to your room, not speaking a word. There, you sat down on the bed and let out a heavy sigh. You weren't really sure how to admit it. Was it good news, or a curse sent by gods to punish you for getting involved with someone like Ivar.

"Well...," You said quietly with a shaky voice. "I am with a child."

"Congratulations," a smile formed on his lisp and he gasped, relieved. "I was worried you're sick. Child is a reason to celebrate and to be happy for Gods blessed you, dear."

You looked at him in disbelief. He was happy. You carried the child of a man that pretended to love you, played with you, used you for his own plans, and then just threw you away like a used rag when you were no longer needed. That man was hunting you for months, every dream and spilled tears reminded you how stupid you were. "Is there really a reason to be happy, Hvitserk? It's his child! What shall I do now?! Return to him like a wounded dog that I already am and beg him to take me back because of his child? He probably wouldn't even believe me! This child is Ivar's curse."

"Wait. Wait," Hvitserk frowned strongly, tilting head. "I know you and him had sex but he's a cripple. He can't have children, I am more than sure about that," he claimed. "Maybe you slept with someone else. It can't be Ivar's child. It can't."

"One more word and I will break more than your nose, Ragnarsson!," You growled at him, getting up from the bed. "Who do you think I am! I am the Earl, not some common whore. Since we returned from Kattegat I haven't slept with anyone else! There was just Ivar, and no one else ever after!"

"For Odin's sake, it breeds...," Hvitserk mumbled under his breath so you didn't hear him. "If he's the father, he should know anyway."

You laughed and shook your head, rubbing the bridge of your nose. "You think he will care? He is a heartless monster, he already proved it by toying me. You good know what he did, in the best case scenario he won't believe it and in the worst - he will try to kill us both."

"Think of what he will do if he finds out one day. He'll ground the settlement, he'll burn your people alive...," Hvitserk lowered his tone, grunting in the end. "Not that I am not happy, I'll be the uncle though, but I rather thought of Ubbe's child, Bjørn's maybe..."

Suddenly you bursted into tears. It was too much for you to handle at once.

Not so long ago you used to live without Ivar and now this happened. You just wanted to disappear, make everyone forget you have even existed. Hvitserk for a second stood still, he wasn't sure whether he should console you or not. In the end, he decided to approach and wrap his arms around your shaking shoulders. He hugged you tight. "I'll take care of you and of the child you're carrying. Don't be worried or sad, you're strong and you'll survive. And, you won't be able to say you're all alone in this world. You'll be the mother. You need to be strong for the baby."

You immediately nuzzled to him, shaking your head as you tried to catch a proper breath. "I can't, Hvitserk... It's his child. It's his... I don't want it. I can't... I don't know how to be a mother."

"You know. You had it written in your womanhood somehow," he assured, gently rubbing your shoulders. "The child didn’t want to come to this world, you both invited him or her, you need to be responsible now. As I said, I'll help as much as possible."

Hvitser was right in some way. "I... I just don't want him back in my life. I wasted enough time with him. He won't use me or the child."

"He won't. I won't let this happen," Hvitserk replied, kissing top of your head. "We'll survive."

As much as you hated to admit it; Hvitserk was right once again.

You never thought that your people can be more caring than they already were but they proved that they indeed could. Since the announcement was made, everyone became even more careful and protective of their Earl. All the women made sure you were okay.

This was something wonderful but all the nice words and assures didn't really change what you felt inside.

With every month the child under your heart grew bigger.

It was wonderful but deep inside you remembered Ivar's action. Everything that led you to this moment. You hated the child for being part of him but there also was part of you in there. You were torn apart.

Everything changed seven months later. After countless hours of bloody and painful labor, the child was welcomed to the world.

It was a boy and as soon as you saw him you knew you would kill anyone who will even try to hurt him.

You didn't care that boy had those piercing blue eyes and dark hair. He was your son and nothing would change that.

This was how little Vali became the part of your life.

In the beginning, you were sure that he was some kind of a curse, something to destroy your life more but after the first two months of motherhood, you were sure he was a blessing.

That one day, Hvitserk came from a little trip on the North; he went to meet with king Olaf who somehow learnt about Earl Wolf becoming a mother. "Y/N?," He asked once he got into the Great Hall. "I brought gifts from the king. He wishes you all the best and he sends his sincere wishes to yours son, too."

You sat on your throne with a Vali proactively wrapped in your arm and furry cloak. "Gifts? From Olaf? That's a great surprise, I'll have to send a messenger to thank him for this all. He didn't have to do this."

Smiling you got up from the throne and walked to Hvitserk. "Look Vali, your dear uncle is back," you hummed and looked at Ragnarsson. "He missed you so much."

"I hope," Hvitserk chuckled in the deep tone of his. He reached under his cloak and pulled out a little bear-shaped toy, made of the finest type of silk. "This one's for you, Vali. Just don't eat it."

You laughed, and took the toy to show it to the little boy.

Vali looked at the toy and giggled loudly. "He loves it. I can already tell we have a new thing that he won't sleep without.”

"That's good," Hvitserk briefly tapped the boy's nose and placed the little kiss on his temple shortly after. "So, maybe now you'll stay with me, so your beautiful mom can have some spare time?"

"Hvitserk, you just got back. Please, go take a bath and rest. I am already done with my duties for the day, so spending time with my handsome, little bundle of happiness is a blessing," you assured him.

"You sure?," He asked but nodded shortly. "Whatever Earl says."

What he needed would never come and no matter how much he seeked, he wouldn't find it.

Ivar wasn't born for great things, nor to find his place in the sun, he kind of accepted it. He could try every day, work for what he wants and needs, but there were no paths to success, not from here, from the abyss of rage and nothingness.

People talked as if he couldn't hear them.

He knew too well they spoke about him being inept in all facets of the ruling.

Kattegat turned into a very dark place since both Earl Wolf and older Ragnarsson left.

People, who were unfavorable to their new leader, were vanishing in pretty questionable circumstances.

Settlement streets were said to be flowing with the blood of enemies of the self proclaimed king.

People lived in terror, hoping everyday they'll be able to witness another sunrise.

Ivar locked himself completely. Trusting only a few people, he spent all of his days within Great Hall, in his bedroom, dreaming of other scenarios, dreaming of what would happen if he didn't send the Earl away.

There was hope before, when she was by his side. Just a tiny flicker against the wind. But not it vanished completely, leaving a painful wound across his heart.

He heated himself for what he decided back then but he couldn't turn the time back.

But the worst was about to come.

When deputy of king Olaf arrived with the very unexpected news about Earl Wolf, Ivar broke completely. Not only did he destroy the place he was born in, and which he used to call home, he randomly stabbed at least two of his guards in a rage outburst.

He had never felt so much rage before as when he learnt she bore a son.

Few days had passed since Hvitserk returned and you felt happy; your little family was reunited.

You were sitting on a furry rug with Vali and tried to tell him a story but the boy was too busy with his new toy to listen to your voice.

"You know, Hvitserk, I was scared before he was born that he will be deformed as his father or that he will destroy my life but now I am ready to protect him with my life," you said and raised your head, looking at the man entering your room.

Hvitserk held a mango in his hand. His glance immediately fell on you and a little bundle of joy placed on your lap. "I told you to not be stressed. He is perfectly fine and will grow into a fierce warrior, just like his mother," Hvitserk cut mango in half and offered you piece.

You gave him a smile and took the fruit. "Maybe when he grows up, there will be no need to fight. Maybe finally the world will be at peace, no need to risk life for a bit of glory or spill innocent blood." After saying that you took the bite of mango and hummed at the sweetness. "I am just happy my fears did not eat me alive and thanks Gods you were here the whole time."

Ragnarsson didn't say anything to comment on your words, he simply took a seat on the chair a few steps away and continued observing how you played with the baby.

"Don't sit so far away from us, Hvitserk. Come and play with us, little Vali wants to play with his uncle," you giggled, and took Hvitserk's hand to gently pull him so he joined both of you on the fluffy rug.

He followed your ask and sat on the floor next to you. His arm wrapped carefully around the baby as you passed the boy to him. Shortly after Hvitserk was laying on his back, holding Vali in his straightened arms, up in the air, gently tossing the boy up to catch him in his arms seconds later, earning a loud laughter and giggling from the boy.

You laughed, watching them. This sight was a pleasure to your heart. Your little boy was healthy and happy, not caring about anything else but fun. He was always taken care of, with his belly full, and it was all he ever needed.

Hvitserk was a blessing, too.

Even if you sometimes wished that Ivar was here, the older Ragnarsson easily stepped into the father role for Vali. Right now, you didn't regret anything that ever happened because this all brought you here, and you were happy with this all.

Hvitserk looked at you with the corner of his eye. "Something wrong? You're staring."

You gasped and used your hands to cover your eyes with a quiet laugh. "Prince Hvitserk, I am so sorry for staring. I just found the two of you playing so cute that I couldn't help myself and watch. Please forgive me."

He couldn't stop himself from chuckling. "Everything is forgiven." He kept playing with the baby. The boy started to reach his chubby hands towards Hvitserk, so the man gently laid the baby on the furs and pretended to attack him. He earned a salve of laughter, so loud that it could pierce the ears.

You laughed with your boy and soon joined them to bathe the baby in the deserved attention and love.

Month passed quickly. With Vali under your care, it passed even quicker than you have ever expected.

The night covered the settlement in the darkness, every place went quiet but not the Great Hall.

When others were getting ready to sleep, you walked around your room with Vali in your arms while humming a lullaby.

The boy was your little treasure but putting him to bed was a nightmare, despite the day full of fun, he didn't want to sleep.

Most nights looked like this, he wasn't in pain or anything like this. He was just fussing.

Suddenly one of your thralls stepped in. "My lady, a deputy from another settlement arrived and claimed he has some news for you."

Hvitserk, who slept in another room already, was woken up by a chatter and rumour in the main chamber so he got up, put tunica on and went to check what was going on.

You frowned and passed the boy to the thrall. "Try to put him to bed or just wait with him here."

Soon. you entered the main chamber. You didn't expect any message from anyone you knew, this was very suspicious. Whatever it was you were ready to fight if needed. Sitting in your throne, you measured the deputy with a cold gaze.

"What new do you bring? What place are you from?"

"I'm coming from Kattegat,. ma'am," the deputy said, bowing his head.

Hvitserk, who entered the chamber and stood next to your throne, frowned.

You froze hearing this, clearing your throat you straighten your back.

"If king Ivar expects more gold from us you can tell him he won't get it. We broke both military and trading bonds between settlements. I won't pay more since we get nothing from the other side."

Deputy lowered his head. "King Ivar was killed by King Aethewulf in England."

You blinked completely shocked by those words. It was hard to believe since you saw his skills, he was simply too skilled to just get killed.

"Who gave you that information? Has anyone seen the body or his death?"

"I, my lady. I and at least one hundred of our warriors who made it back to Norway after unsuccessful raids."

Rubbing your cheek you nodded, still trying to accept the words you just heard. It was hard, you got over him months ago but Vali was this one little string that reminded and connected you to Ivar the Boneless.

"You can go. My people will give you a place to sleep, we can talk in the morning. Now rest, the way here was long and hard."

When the deputy left the Great Hall, you sighed heavily and looked at Hvitserk at your side.

"What do you think? Your brothers are back in Kattegat? Is he really dead or is it some kind of twisted plan to get us?"

Hvitserk looked all sad. "I don't know. But I don't think this man lied to us. He was dead serious. If this is true... If he died... For Odin's sake, I feel sick."

You quickly moved to him to place your palms on his cheeks in an attempt to calm him down. "Hvitserk, my friend. Please, stay calm, take a deep breath"

He did but it resulted in him shivering all over his body. "It can't be true... He was my little brother after all..."

You hushed him and hugged him as tightly as you only could. "I know, I know he was. I also can't believe it. Maybe the man was wrong, maybe he didn't see it right. Maybe your brother is alive... Just lost."

Hvitserk, as much as he hated it, broke fully and started sobbing. "Leave me, Y/N. I just need a walk." He gently pushed you aside and simply went out, don't paying attention to the coldness of the night and to the heavy rain outside.

What else could you do? He needed this, so you let him go, he would come back as he always did.

After a few more minutes of thinking, you simply returned to your room. Vali was somehow already asleep in his wooden crib. "If you only knew how much we lost. All of us," you whispered and placed a gentle kiss on the boy's forehead.

After tucking him in, you sat on your bed and broke into tears. Ivar was gone and it hurt. Despite everything they ever happened, deep down you still loved him.

Hvitserk returned in the morning. He was soaked wet with rain, and so drunk that he simply had a close encounter with the door leading to his room.

Loud bang on the door woke you up. Soon, you were out of the bed to see what even was that. The sight of poor Hvitserk all wet and drunk was really sad. "Oh, Hvitserk. What have you done to yourself..."

He scoffed. "I'm fine, Y/N. I can't find my room. Did you.... T-take it away?"

You let out a heavy sigh, and shook your head. "Girls! Could you please come here?”

Three thralls that you knew he liked the most walked up to you. "What can we do?"

"Take him to his room, bathe him, feed him if he wants, change his clothes and put him to bed, please," you said, and the girls looked at Hvitserk.

"I can do... By my own... I am not drunk," he placed hands on his hips trying to scoff your words but instead he lost his balance and almost fell to the floor.

You chuckled. "Yes, we can all see this. Go with girls. I know you like them, they will help you."

Hvitserk gasped but his hand wrapped around the waist of one of the girls.

All three of them giggled. "Oh, we will gladly help him and take care of him," one of them hummed happily.

Two years passed like sand in an hourglass; quickly and unnoticeable. Some time ago Vali was just a little bundle of joy, and now he was a curious two-year-old. Always asking questions and looking at new stuff with those big blue eyes.

Vali took most after his father, those beautiful eyes and dark hair. Happily, his character was more like yours.

"You think we should throw a feast today? After all, it's boy's big day," you asked, and looked at Hvitserk while playing with Vali's hair.

Hvitserk was sitting at the table, playing with a knife in his hands as he was rethinking your idea. "Yes. We need to feast. This is your son's big day. He needs to feel it, even if he's not too old to understand fully. I asked Katherine to prepare it already."

You laughed and kissed the boy's head. "You see how much your uncle loves you? We will let you sit a bit longer today than. My big, beautiful boy," saying this you hugged Vali tightly.

Hvitserk continued his play with the dagger while observing you hugging your baby boy.

The feast was a tale of how your people loved Vali.

"Above all, this is a feast of our emotions, of our bonds, with the food and mead as the perfect symbol of these everlasting bonds," Hvitserk said happily as he was sitting right by your side, enjoying the party and keeping his eye on the baby boy.

Raising your horn you laughed. "Let's drink, my friends! Let's drink for my son, and my dear friend, Hvitserk! May Gods bless them with love and happiness that they deserved," you said loudly, and the crowd cheered loudly, agreeing with you.

One of thralls refilled Hvitserk's cup and she just stared at him. "Sir, do you need anything else?"

He caught her glance, and a mischievous grin danced in his lips. "What's your name, sweetheart?"

"Astrid, my lord."

You watched then with a smile. It was a common fact that Hvitserk could charm girls with just one smile.

Suddenly a man walked in, you recognized him as one of your warriors. He walked to you to whisper something into your ear. Frowning softly you nodded. "Hvitserk? Someone is asking to see the Earl. Shall we let him in or just send him away?"

Hvitserk narrowed his brows. "Did we invite anyone from outside? I can't recall it. Today is the feast of your lovely son and this is what she should focus on."

"No, we did not but from what he said the person looks for a safe place to stay and heal wounds," you said, bouncing the boy on your knee.

"Maybe we should let him in, see what he really expects?"

"I'll condone your every decision."

You nodded and looked at the warrior. "Bring the person in. I want two guards with whoever it is, just to be safe."

The man nodded and quickly runoff.

"My friends! We will have an unexpected guest! Let's all see why he is here!," you informed people gathered in the Great Hall. "Astrid, please take my boy to my room. He is sleepy."

When the boy was taken to the safety of your room, you got comfortable in your throne and waited to see who the visitor really was.

Ivar wasn't sure of what he was doing.

He couldn't simply get back to Kattegat, now Bjørn was the king and he would simply cut his head off as soon as he would appear on the horizon.

Those months were hard for him. After miraculously getting back from England on a single boat belonging to traders, he wandered through Norway all by his own, trying to find a safe place.

Unfortunately, due to him being a ruthless ruler before, he had more foes than friends and it wasn't so easy to stay calmly in any place.

He hated the fact he had to show up here, in the settlement ruled by Earl Wolf herself.

Soon, your warrior entered the room with the company of the mysterious visitor. The whole Great Hall went quiet, carefully observing the newcomer. All men were ready to fight if needed.

You stiffened hearing the familiar sound. Crutch, step, step, and then again crutch, step, step.

No, he was dead. It couldn't be him unless the Gods decided to torment you more than they already did.

Clearing your throat you did your best to calm down your nerves. "Who are you? And what do you want? Explain your purpose here."

Hvitserk also stopped whatever he was doing. The sound of crutch was too familiar but his brother was long gone. It just had to be some cripple, seeking a safe place to spend the night.

Ivar, with hood on his head, slowly walked until the guards stopped him in the middle of the chamber. After taking a long breath, he slowly took the hood off, raising his head. "I'm Ivar the Boneless and I came to see Earl Wolf."

Hvitserk jolted up. "Guards!," He raised his tone.

More men walked closer to Ivar, ready to protect the Earl.

"Is this some kind of a joke? Or a magic trick? Curse?," You asked with a frown. "Are you the real Ivar the Boneless? The whole Norway let out a sigh of relief when they heard about his death in England, and now you came here, claiming to be him?"

As much as you wanted it to be a joke or curse, it wasn't. It was Ivar himself, he was here, and he stood right in front of you in your own settlement, asking for a safe place. There were many emotions boiling in you; happiness because he was alive, and anger for all that he did to you in the past. You wanted to hug him but at the same time you wished to see him bleed out all over your ax.

"As much as I would love to be feasting with Odin and Æsirs in Valhalla now, I'm not dead in the slightest," he replied.

You could see a large cut on his right cheek, going almost from his temple down to reach his jaw. One of his eyes was fully red.

You laughed, and got up from your throne to walk closer. "Look at this! You all leave the food and look at this, people! Great Ivar the Boneless, the man who used me and my trust, came here, looking for a safe place to stay like a wounded dog he is!" Pulling out the dagger you always carried for safety, you looked at him, and then pressed the blade to his neck. "For all you did to me, I should slit your throat open, and let you bleed out. Just to free everyone from you," you growled.

"Mama, uncle!" Little boy ran out of the room and immediately hugged Hvitserk's leg, hiding from the stranger.

Hvitserk leaned down and picked the boy up, wrapping arms tightly around the little trembling figure. His eyes never left Ivar’s features.

Ivar smiled simply at your words and wrapped his palm around the blade of your dagger, so hard that soon the blood started dropping to the floor. "Go on. Free me."

"On the other hand, doing this will be too easy," you growled, and took the dagger away. Shaking your head, you walked back to Hvitserk. "I guess the thrall couldn't keep the boy away. What do we do with Ivar now?," You asked before placing a comforting kiss on the little boy's head.

"I have no idea, I am just as shocked as you are," Hvitserk whispered, his glance still locked on Ivar.

"To say that I am shocked is an understatement, my friend," you said with a little frown, and took Vali into your arms. Poor thing was shaking from the whole situation and nerves. "It's okay, Vali. Mother is here, you are safe," you whispered, wrapping your furry cloak around the boy to calm him down.

Of course Ivar spotted the baby in your arms. Boy could have at least up to 3 springs, not more for sure. A cold needle of envy pierced Ivar's heart. You had a family you craved that much.

"Take him to that one empty hut. Take away that cursed crutch, make sure to tie his hands together. His legs won't be a big problem. Bring healer to him so she can have a look at his wound," you ordered, looking right at Ivar while holding the child close to your chest. "Feed him if he is hungry. I want him to be guarded day and night."

"All this for a cripple?," One of your people asked loudly. "Look at him! Wounded, in despair. He won't be able to hurt anyone, my lady."

"We should leave him to die in the forest," one of the women claimed. "My dearest son was killed by his side!"

"I fought by his side! I know what he is capable of, never underestimate him. Crippled or not he can be dangerous," you claimed, pointing at Ivar. "I was betrayed by him but I won't lower myself to his position by using cruelty. Take him away, and do as I said. This is an order."

Most people groaned unhappily at the order but they followed.

Ivar was escorted to the empty hut, located almost in the woods.

You let the feast continue but returned to your bedroom.

There was not much sleep that night.

When Vali was asleep right next to you, wrapped in warm furs, you lied there motionless, thinking. You couldn't believe what actually happened that night. The man that was your lover, father of your child, dead man was here. He was alive. Hate toward Ivar was strong, he hurt you so bad but at the same time, he gave you the little treasure you called your son. Not to mention you somehow missed him.

When the morning came, you left Vali with Astrid and went to visit Ivar.

He was all tied up. Your people took good care to wrap ties around his wrists hard enough that after an hour or two he lost feeling in both of his hands, locked high above his head.

Being completely overwhelmed by pain from all the blows he experienced during the night, he fell in complete oblivion before the dawn, his head rolled down as his chin rested against his chest.

You didn't like what you saw when you entered the hut. This wasn't what you ordered. Of course, you wanted to be sure he won't attack you, your child, or Hvitserk but this was too much. By the look around you could tell the healer was never there as well as the food was never delivered, while the hut was also cold. "Guards!," You yelled and waited at them to join you.

Two of your loyal men approached. "My lady?," One of them asked.

"What happened here? Why is he tied up like this? Beaten up? This place is cold, was healer even here?," You looked at them, crossing arms over your chest. "Did he get anything to eat?"

Men exchanged glances. "No. Healer refused to come here, and people took their retaliation in first and twice as nasty."

"Who do you think you all are to oppose my orders!? I am the Earl!," You snapped at them. "You had to guard him! Not let people use him as an old doll. You can tell anyone who dared to touch him that I will find them and take care of them by myself, you two included." Shaking your head you walked past them before giving them one more look. "I go to the healer to get stuff I need. You two better not touch him until I am back."

As soon as Earl vanished from their sight, guards measured themselves with mean glances.

"You know by yourself what they say, that the boy is his," one of them remained his mate and spat on the floor.

You visited the healer's hut to gather whatever stuff needed to take care of Ivar's injury. Maybe you weren't a real healer but taking the fact you were a warrior, you knew how to take care of the wounds. Soon, you returned to Ivar, making sure guards stayed outside.

The sight of him broke your heart, he hurt you but you never wanted him to suffer like this. "As the Earl I feel ashamed. I am sorry that my people treated you like this," you said, undoing the rope that held his hands. "This was not my order."

As he heard any commotion, he opened his eyes. The last thing he expected was your presence in the same chamber. He was highly aware how broken he had left you before, and to be fair, he was secretly shocked with the fact you even tried to help him, in any way. As you undid the ropes, he fell on the floor with loud hiss escaping his chapped lips. He couldn't support himself due to the fact his hands were curled and cold - it was difficult to obtain sufficient blood flow when his hands were tied too tightly above his head for many long hours.

You sat on the floor, and helped him sit up, resting his back against the wall. "I just hope they didn't damage you more. This wasn't my order, I am furious they did this to you."

Ivar looked directly at you but he remained silent.

You gave him a flat smile, and then cupped his cheek to take a look at the nasty wound on his face. Helping him was wrong, you should let your people do what they wanted for what he did to you but you simply couldn't bring yourself to cruelty. Those stupid feelings didn't let you. You started to gently clean the wound, despite his angry hisses you kept your work on it.

He closed his eyes, struggling with the burning pain on his cheek when you pressed the wet rug soaked with some oils and herbs to the wound. It started bleeding immediately. Ivar clenched his teeth, letting out a loud grunt.

"Did you get anything to eat? Drink?," You asked him, still working on that wound of his. He would live, all that would be left after it would be a scar.

"No," he replied in that particular soft tone of his.

Letting out a deep sigh you shook your head, this was unbelievable. How could your own people not listen to their leader, and simply do what they want with a defenseless man? "Guards!," You yelled and looked over your shoulder as soon as they entered the hut. "Take him, and carry him to the Great Hall."

Men gave you a look. "I'm sorry, my lady, but he is the devil himself. Our people don't want him among us."

You rolled your eyes. "Are you deaf? Earl gave you an order, do it or I will feed you to wolves by myself. I am your leader, I decided about his place. Now shut your mouth, take him, and follow me."

Both men with loud gasps entered the chamber and picked Ivar up, each of them wrapped one of Ivar's arms around their shoulders.

The Great Hall was mostly empty, only Hvitserk and two thralls sat around the fireplace playing with little Vali.

You didn't miss the odd looks they gave you once they noticed you entering the main chamber with two guards that carried Ivar right behind you.

They sat him down on a chair near the big table, after that guards left.

"Astrid? Would you be so kind as to stop trying to get Hvitserk's heart? I need you to prepare something to eat for my guest," you said, giving her a flat smile.

Astrid fazed a little but obeyed your command. "Whatever you say, my lady."

Hvitserk looked above his shoulder, his glance immediately went to Ivar. "We were informed you were dead."

Youngest Ragnarsson scoffed. "You wish."

Hvitserk jolted up, and with few large steps he approached the chair Ivar sat on. "What's wrong with you? Don't expect us to be happy with your sudden resurrection after all you had done to us all."

You took Vali from the other thrall, and ordered her to help Astrid with food.

Boy was more than happy to see his mother, he giggled and nuzzled to your chest.

"Hvitserk is right. You did so much bad that I should simply give you to my people and let them decide what to do with you but I am better than this," you muttered, holding the baby close as you walked closer to older Ragnarsson.

Hvitserk offered you a particular glance of his; his eyebrow cocked high, his lips pressed together so they were just a thin line. He looked at the boy you held in arms and then back at you.

Ivar listened to your words but he remained silent.

Vali watched the stranger with his curious blue eyes. "Ma?," the boy cooed and pointed at Ivar.

You chuckled, looking down at your baby. Of course, curiosity was stronger than fear. "Yes, I know."

Ivar cringed inside. The last thing he needed was to deal with the child. He turned his head around to avoid the piercing glance of those blue eyes. If he felt better, he would simply twist his brother's neck for impregnating you.

You asked one thrall to take the boy away and keep him safe. Vali didn't look happy, looking at you over the woman's shoulder.

When they both were gone, you looked at Ivar. "Ivar, talk to us. What even happened? We got a message from Kattegat that you died in England."

"I partly did," he growled deeply, not bothering himself to look at you or Hvitserk.

His older brother after a moment of silence smashed his fist against the table. "Fuck, Ivar, stop being all offended! And reply to questions! We do not have an entire day, and Y/N has her duties, too!"

"Oh, she for sure has," Ivar mocked. "You have a beautiful son," he claimed out of sudden, his steel blue eyes fixed on your face.

Oh if he only knew.

"I know I do and he needs his mother's attention. I am still the Earl, so your brother is right, I have duties, Ivar," you answered, looking him right in the eyes without any hint of fear.

Ivar let out a sharp breath and rubbed his forehead. He felt highly uncomfortable around you and Hvitserk. "I have nothing more to say. I know that you, my dear brother, would happily dance on my grave, but as you can see, I somehow survived," Ivar snapped, looking directly at Hvitserk.

“Stop it. I fucking moured you, you fucking idiot," Hvitserk grabbed Ivar by collar of his tunica. "I am not a heartless monster like you."

You grabbed Hvitserk's shoulder in an attempt of calming him down. "Hvitserk, calm down, please. We both mourned you, Ivar. You have no idea in what state he was for months because his youngest brother was gone. This shocked him to the core, it was hard for him to return to everyday life."

"This is why he decided to get into your panties?," Ivar replied viciously, a sadness in his tone. "How long did it last? While we were a thing?," Ivar grunted. "I would never think you and he would have a baby together."

Hvitserk laughed. "Unbelievable."

You blinked looking at Ivar with a clear shock and surprise in your eyes. "E-Excuse me..." Did he think the baby was yours and Hvitserk’s? Apparently he did and it was the most ridiculous thing you had ever heard in your entire life. You tried your best to keep a straight face but a short laugh left your lips. "First of all, you said it yourself that we never were together, and second, Vali isn't Hvitserk's child, I never slept with him. He was a wonderful friend and father figure but nothing beyond that."

Ivar now felt stupid for accusing you of sleeping with his brother. "You two seem close. I just thought..."

"Even if we were a thing with Y/N, it would not be any matter of yours," Hvitserk reminded coldly. "So you know, I didn't sleep with her."

"We are close but like I said. He was a wonderful help since we got here but we even have two different rooms. Hvitserk is too busy charming the female half of the settlement," you said, and laughed some more.

Ivar wanted to complain some more but a bowl with soup was placed in front of him by Astrid.

Woman shivered when he threw her a glance.

"Thank you," he replied and started eating.

"Keep an eye on him. Make sure he eats and drinks. Find him some new clothes. Girls will help with the bath," you said, patting Hvitserk's shoulder. "I need to go on training grounds. I can already tell it will be hard, they aren't too happy with our visitor."

Ivar spent another three months on healing his wounds, and he happened to have a lot of those.

People got used to his presence among them, yet they still weren't keen on any interactions with him, which resulted in him lurking alone throughout the paths, being talked about and pointed with fingers and piercing glances.

That particular day he went outside, to sit on a huge meadow, he had to gather all the thoughts that were floating within his mind.

How huge was his surprise when he spotted Astrid with Earl's son. They were picking flowers.

"Your mother will love those. They will nicely decorate your shared room," Astrid hummed picking a flower, and showing it to the little boy what earned her a big smile from him.

Vali himself picked a few flowers, and gently put them in the basket set on the ground.

Astrid shivered feeling someone's eyes on them. She loved such little trips but they were stressful. Earl would go mad if anything happened to her only child. Woman raised her head and looked at Ivar before giving him a little nod as a greeting.

Ivar offered her a nod in reply, and continued observing them from a distance. The boy seemed cute and eager to learn about the world. Ivar sighed; he would want to have a child one day but he knew it was impossible.

Astrid returned to picking the flowers.

Soon, the boy was bored with that activity; the stranger was much more interesting.

At some point Astrid was accosted by some other thrall as they started talking. Before she even noticed, Vali walked away to finally get a closer look at the stranger.

Ivar was busy with playing with the tape of his black tunica. He felt uncomfortable as he felt a piercing glance on his features. He raised head up and noticed the boy standing right in front of him.

Boy watched Ivar carefully, and then decided to sit right next to him. He looked up and smiled. "Hi. Flower," Vali said, showing the flower to Ivar proudly.

Ivar cringed at first but his heart melted instantly when the boy handled the freshly picked up flower to him. Ivar took it gently between his fingers and gave the boy a smile. n"Flower. Do you like flowers?"

Boy nodded with a huge smile on his mouth. "You?," Vali asked, pointing at him.

Ivar was completely taken aback by the question boy dropped. "I like them, too," he replied in his usual soft tone. "Where are you mom?"

Boy blinked few times before pointing at the direction of Great Hall. "There," he said, and his attention went to Ivar's braided hair. "Pretty," Vali giggled, and tried to reach them.

Ivar at first tried to move back; he wasn't used to the children being around him, fascinated by the way he looked. After considering the situation, and taking no one could see him being so vulnerable, he leaned forward and turned head aside. It resulted with his braids to fall loose to the side, so the boy could touch them.

Boy gaped excitedly, and gently took the braids into his hubby hands. "Soft! Pretty!,” he giggled, and gently pulled on the to see what would happen.

Ivar laughed. "Gently, like you would pet the dog or kitten," he instructed, and tapped the boy's hand softly.

Boy nodded, and started to gently play with his hair. After he was done Vali pulled away from him to find a new point of interest. Soon he got interested in weird things on Ivar's legs.

Ivar wasn't sure what to do. He hated his lower limbs, but the boy was seemingly interested in leg braces and crutch that was leant next to them. "I'm a cripple," he told the boy though he knew he wouldn’t understand a word. "They don't work," Ivar pointed at his legs.

Boy looked at him confused, and gently touched the braces as if he was again touching his hair. "Hurt? Sad?," Vali asked curiously.

You were scared the first moment you saw that Astrid was busy with gossiping, and Vali was gone but you calmed down as you saw him. Vali was interacting with his father, even if the little boy didn't know that. Instead of stepping in, you decided to observe them.

"Sad, hurt," Ivar replied and made a sad face. "Be happy. Your legs are nice. Chubby and wobbly still but you'll grow into a strong man," Ivar ruffled boy's dark hair.

Boy laughed at his action but didn't like the fact that his new friend wasn't happy. Vali was quiet for a moment before kissing braces on Ivar’s legs, and then got up to hug Ivar. Just like his mom always did when he got hurt. "No hurt."

You smiled, biting your lips. This was something you never expected to see.

Ivar paled. His brain stuttered for a moment and his eyes took in more light than expected, every part of him went on pause while his thoughts catched up. Never before had Ivar noticed how time is so much like water; that it can pass slowly, a drop at a time, even freeze, or rush by in a blink. "Thank you, I feel healed," Ivar replied softly and simply put hands on both sides of the boy to pick him up and sat on his lap. "Comfy?"

Boy nuzzled into him, getting comfortable on his lap and nodded with a short yawn. "Yes. Soft."

Ivar let him rest his side against Ivar's chest. He also yawned. "If you want, nap. I'll keep an eye on you."

Vali nodded, closing his eyes.

You decided to get Astrid's attention pointing out that your son is gone. Poor girl freaked out but you quickly calmed her down, and then sent her back to Great Hall with your shield and ax. After that you approached Ivar. "Comfortable you two?," You whispered.

Ivar looked at you and nodded, putting his fingers to lips. "Shhh. You don't want to wake this little warrior up."

"No I don't. He gets fussy," you nodded and sat next to Ivar. "Ivar the Boneless and child. That's  something new."

"I know, right?," He whispered and wrapped arm around the boy to shield him from rolling off his lap.

You smiled softly looking at this sweet little sight. "Ivar. Can I ask you something?"

He shrugged slightly. "Yes."

"Do you know that a wolf has one mate? One mate for whole life?,” You whispered, looking at him.

"I do, mother taught me and my brothers about that," he replied. "Why? Do you have wolves threatening the settlement?"

You chuckled and shook your head. "Back in York I picked my mate. Man I wanted to spend my life with. Stay by his side no matter what, and it was you,"

"I remember," he replied and started cringing inside. All he needed was you to recall the relationship you two shared.

"You know that since you made me leave Kattegat, I haven't slept with anyone," you said looking down at Vali that was already sleeping in his arms. "You were and still are the only one that slept with me before Vali was born."

"Bishop called it the virgin birth. So, as I assume, you're holy? Or should be considered like one," Ivar blinked, looking at you.

"Ivar I am not a virgin for years. Vali is your son, I found out I am pregnant two months after my return from Kattegat," you announced with a frown. "No virgin birth, no any other man. Just your seed that filled me for months."

Ivar grimaced. "I'm sorry to break it up to you, sweetheart, but I'm a cripple and I can't have children," he whispered loudly.

"Yeah, and you brothers claimed that before England you couldn't fuck a thrall," you raised your eyebrow. "And there you were. Taking me whenever you wanted, however you wanted."

Ivar was about to complain but he went quiet. You were right; his brothers were repeating that he couldn't ever have possessed a woman, yet he did. Which led to the obvious conclusion he could have impregnated you.

You gave him a little smile. "He is your son. This is Vali Ivarsson, son of famous and fierce Ivar the Boneless."

Ivar wanted to pick the boy up and take a closer look but he didn't have a heart to wake this little bundle of happiness. "You mean it?..."

"I swear on my name, reputation and Gods themselves that I mean it," you nodded. "Since our meeting in York till this day, there was no one else in my bed.”

He nodded and went quiet again. It wasn't the news he ever expected to hear. "I'll be visiting him, if you agree but I want Hvitserk to be his father's role. I don't want him to know about me being his father," he said coldly.

"No, Ivar. I won't agree on this, there is nothing he should be ashamed of," shaking your head, you touched his shoulder. "I want you to be here. With me, and with your son."

"No," he replied and shifted slightly in his place, trying to get as far from your touch as possible. "Look at me. I'm a wreck. I always thought that trust must come before love, yet it is not so, for love and trust can arrive at the same moment. When love is given in this way, immediate, no explanations, the trust arrives too. But I broke both your love and trust years ago by sending you out. I shouldn't have done that but I did, and nothing can explain the decision I made back then. Trusts were broken, lies were told. I used you, I did, just to get thing so elusive and unsustainable that I didn't have a chance to rejoice my position as a king for I won it by rage, not by love of the people." He drew a sharp breath and stared at the boy. "I am a cripple. I won't be able to run with him, to show him how to swim, how to sail, how to hunt, how to be a real man. He deserves a good life, better life than I can provide him."

"Ivar," You whispered, moving closer to him. "Things you say are true. You did a lot of evil, and you already paid for it. Gods brought you back to me. Despite everything that happened, for years I hoped you would come back, and you did. We don't know the ways of Gods, maybe you being here is a sign," you looked at Vali and smiled. "Ivar, he won't care about this. He will need his father, the real one, and I know he'll love you the way you are."

He let out a sigh. "I promise to be a good dad to him. I'll do my best but I am scared of failure."

"You won't fail my love. I will be here as well. He is our son and we both will take care of him, and each other," you assured. "I am more worried he will be ashamed of a mother that isn't as beautiful as all the other women... Because of scars on my face."

"And who says it?," Ivar couldn't help but let out a chuckle, pointing on a large scar on his right cheek.

“What is one scare when it comes to my face Ivar," You rolled your eyes, and looked at him, placing your head on his shoulder. "Ivar?"

"So you're not only one that is scared. And you're beautiful. You should know that." When you placed your head on his shoulder, he froze but soon a smile appeared on his lips. "Mmm?"

"I missed you... In every possible way," you wanted to add more but a tiny voice got your attention.

"Mama," Vali said, raising his arms to you. You giggled, and picked the boy up. Boy yawned and looked at you and Ivar with his big blue eyes.

Only then Ivar believed fully; he recognised his own eyes in those of the boy. "I missed you, too... Mommy," Ivar of course had to get on your nerves.

You pointed at Ivar. "This funny man is your father, Vali."

Boy blinked and looked at Ivar. "Papa?"

He offered a slight nod to the boy. "I am, Vali." His son's name spoke loudly, sounded so strangely in his tone but he smiled. "I am."

"Papa!," Boy said happily, and reached for him. You giggled and returned the boy to his father. Vali grabbed his cheek and patted them gently. "Squishy!”

Ivar couldn't stop himself from grinning widely. "Squishy. But you know what's more squishy?" After these words he poked the boy's side. "This. And this," Ivar added while squeezing the boy's cheek.

Boy laughed loudly, and hugged Ivar as tightly as his little arms let him.

You smiled, filling how tears started to fill your eyes. In the end, Ivar rested his forehead against the boy's, they were touching with noses, too. "I love you," Ragnarsson claimed. "I'll never let anything bad happen to you or your mom..."

"Maybe we should get back to the Great Hall? I am sure Hvitserk is worried about us all," you suggested looking at your boys.

"I wish I could give you a piggyback but it would be hard with me using crutch."

"I think he will prefer a chariot rides once he gets a little older," you said, and picked the boy up before helping Ivar get up.

"Hungry!," Vali said loudly.

Sighing, you looked at Ivar. "I think this runs in the family."

Ivar shrugged, and followed you slowly. Today the pain of his legs was almost unbearable, so it took him longer to walk than usual. "Go, go, I'll catch you at the place," he assured.

You frowned and walked closer to him to cup his cheek. "Ivar... Your eyes... I will get you a healer as soon as we get back inside. Maybe she will be able to help you," with the boy in your arms you decided to slow down to not leave Ivar behind.

He had to stop after some time. Ivar gave you a flat smile. "Please. Go back to the house with him, I'll be right back. Don't worry about me. It's nothing, but he's hungry and I don't want to slow you down. Please?"

"Since you are so sure. We will wait at you," you gave him a sad smile and walked away. Vali looked over your shoulder confused of why Ivar stayed behind.

It took him another several minutes to get at the edge of the meadow. The sight was beautiful; your settlement in its full potential. Ivar stood motionless for a longer moment, considering everything that had happened before. He learnt he was a father, that he had a son, the most beautiful and handsome baby boy he had ever seen. He learnt you still had feelings for him; just as he had. He learnt you had given him another chance. A tear streamed down his scared cheek. Then another one and another. "Odin, I don't deserve all the magnificent things you're blessing me with," he whined quietly. "I prayed for death, not for a new life." When he felt his heart rate returned to normal, he continued his way down the hill.

His legs didn't work properly that day, so it resulted in him falling a few times. Thankfully, he didn't break any bone.

While your thralls tried their best to feed the fussy boy, you stood in the big door. Biting your nail nervously you waited at Ivar. Something was wrong, you could remember the stories Hvitserk told you about Ivar and his eyes. You prayed for him to get back safely.

Soon, Ivar reached the Great Hall. He smiled when he spotted you in the door; apparently you've been waiting for him... "Sorry for being late," he excused himself. "Where's Vali?"

"Girls try to feed him. I think he was also waiting for you," you whispered, and looked over your shoulder. "I wanted to be sure that you got here in one piece."

"So here I am," he faked a perfect smile. "May I?," He asked before he stepped inside.

You nodded. "This is your home now, Ivar. Of course you can."

"Papa!," Vali said happily, seeing Ivar. Just then he started to eat like a good boy.

Ivar looked at the thralls who gave him scared glances. "You're doing a good job, girls, don't mind me sitting close." He took a seat at the chair, slowly and carefully to not hurt himself anymore. He observed his son.

You placed a hand on his shoulder. "Are you sure you are okay, Ivar? I can tell something is wrong." You sent thralls away by waving hand at them, and sat down close to him with the boy on your laps so you can continue to feed him.

"I am sure," he assured and touched his son's cheek. "Be a good boy, listen to your mom. You need to eat to become a strong warrior."

Boy nodded, looking at Ivar.

"And you were worried you'll be a bad father. He already loves you," you whispered into Ivar's ear.

He smiled and blushed a little at a comment.

When Vali was done with his meal, he reached hand towards Ivar so you passed the boy to his father.

Ivar placed the boy on his lap. "Missed me, little warrior?," Ivar asked softly, tapping the boy's cheek.

"Yes! Much much!,” Vali nodded eagerly, nuzzling to Ivar.

"He never was that clingy to any other people, he always prefered me. Even when it comes to Hvitserk," you explained happily that Vali accepted Ivar so easily.

"Don't be surprised. He senses who is his dad after all, I bet. And, come on, we have so much in common, don't we, little one? Both brave. Both love you," Ivar pointed at Earl. "And both handsome. It attracts us to one another."

You couldn't help but laugh, and agree with Ivar. Your son had a father and Ivar was back at your side.

After spending more time with his father, Vali became sleepy so you took him to your room. When you returned, Ivar was sitting in front of a fireplace, looking into flames.

You walked to him and gently kissed his temple before sitting down right next to him. "We are alone for tonight. I am sure he will sleep the whole night. How do you feel, Ivar?”

"I hope he'll sleep calmly," Ivar replied softly and gave you a look. "Thank you for the kiss though..."

You laughed softly. "Ivar, no need to thank me,"

"Of course I need to thank you."

Shaking your head you got comfortable in your seat. "Was I really that bad? So bad you had to send me away? After all promises and our plans?"

"No...," He replied. "I was deluded."

Nodding slowly, you looked at him. "So... You didn't mean the words you said back then. Everything we ever did together, wasn't just your way of making sure I stay and fight for you?"

"You know I love you, and loved you back then... I was deluded... I was told I'm a god which was a lie. I thought I am someone that doesn't need anyone to rule... I grieved."

"It was hard for me too, you have no idea how hard it was," You said and took his hand. "I missed you every day, even if I used to live without you."

"I hated myself for what I've done. I raided England because I hoped for death."

"Then I am really happy death didn't come for you," you squeezed his hand. "Because Gods brought you here, back to me, and to your son."

"I would never say I'll have a child. Such a beautiful son... With such a woman..."

"We never know the ways of Gods, love. Maybe this all had to happen."

Ivar thought for a bit. "Can I kiss you?"

You smiled and got up from your seat to place yourself on his laps, of course making sure to not put too much weight on his legs. Cupping his cheek, you kissed him deeply.

He instantly wrapped arms around your waist, pulling you close and kissing you deeply, humming in enjoyment.

You pulled away, breaking the kiss as you ran out of the air. Your forehead rested against his. "Will you be my husband? I don't want to lose you ever again."

He stopped breathing. He didn't even realize he had been holding breath in. "Did you just...?"

You simply nodded. "I want you to be my husband. To stay here with me and our son. I want us to rule together. I want our family to grow bigger."

Instead replying, he kissed you deeply.

[petri808]

A Sun-Kissed Getaway

My artist partner @reishichi beautiful companion piece to my story. Rei was awesome to work with, sweet, go check out her art!!! 💜💜 This was for the @todomomo-mini-bang-2020 

The scent of the salty ocean air held hints of life and notes of esoteric mysteries swirling through the breezes that wrapped along the sun-kissed beach they stood on.  He couldn’t have picked a more perfect spot to bring his wife Momo to.  Secluded and peaceful compared to the hectic city world they lived in.  The skies were radiant with different shades of blue as far as the eye could see and embraced at the horizon into the covetous waters like a lover returning home.

But as beautiful as this landscape was, it didn’t hold a flame in his heart like the gorgeous woman before him.  Her dark raven tresses float behind her in gentle wisps and flurries, only tamed in part by the loose clip that binds it up.  He watches her pause and bend down to pick up a shell, turning it in her hand before placing it back where she’d found it.  Always the curious bookworm, cultured and mindful of her surroundings.  She turns her attention to the ocean and closes her eyes.  

He smiles at her upturned expression as she soaks in this entrancing milieu.  It was one he could understand and appreciate too.  

Their work as heroes was a daunting task at times.  Not just physically taxing but emotionally draining when you’re dealing with the dregs of society.  Villains and the victims left in their wake.  Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if these degenerates could just stick to battling with the law rather than dragging innocents into the mix. But he digresses.  This was not the time to brood upon the negatives of their chosen professions.  

“Shouto,” a soft melody crosses his hearing, and he shifts his focus to its source.  He sees her outstretched hand, beckoning him to her.  

He smiles once more and closes the gap between them, taking hold and entwining his fingers with hers.  She squeezes and runs her thumb soothingly over the skin, wiping away the dissolution as if it’d never taken place.  This is why he loved her so much.  With just a tender touch, she could send away the weary and brighten his world anew.  He lifts her hand and places a chaste kiss to its back.  “Shall we,” he questions, gesturing to the stretch of coastline.  She smiles with a light blush filtering onto her cheeks and nods in agreement.    

They walk along the beach hand in hand in mellow conversation.  The warm white sand speckled with various shades from corals of long ago cushion each step they take.  It was nice, like a massage for their bare feet, and he appreciated that nature was kind enough not to burn today.  No other souls were around to disturb them, except for the occasional call of a seabird or the skittering of a hermit crab.  Just the tranquil roil of the waves ebbing and flowing against the sand or the shifting leaves of the trees that dot the edge of the shoreline.

It takes about an hour for them to make it to the end of the beach where a sheer cliff face rises up an unknown amount of stories and blocks their way.  This beach was carved from a valley and only accessible with four-wheel drive.  Of course, for those with a quirk like he had, travel to a remote location wasn’t so much of an issue.  But to make it a day when they could forget about their quirks and just be normal for once, he’d borrowed a friend’s truck to get through the forest trail.  

With no reason to hurry, they simply turn around and enjoy the stretch of paradise, making their way back to their little camp for the day.  It was almost lunchtime and his wife had prepared bento meals for them to fuel their day off.  Along with an oversized blanket and small cooler with drinks, it was the perfect set up for a relaxing picnic by the sea.

How unexpected, he mused as she produced a kitchen knife and began cutting into a small watermelon.  It was the perfect refreshing treat for this warm summer day.  He makes her a small table of ice to cut the fruit on and lay the pieces out to chill.  “Lunch was delicious Momo, thank you,” he kisses her cheek as she finishes chopping.

She blushes lightly in a smile, “you’re welcome Shouto.”      

He was a lucky man that his wife was such an amazing cook.  Cooking was one skill that he could never master no matter how many times his sister Fuyumi tried to teach him.  But he’s always been just a simple man, nothing fancy required, and content with a cold plate of soba.  His wife was a different story.  Raised to be the perfect balance of elegance and sophistication, used to the finer things in life, yet never pretentious or snobby.  

Though they’d come from the upper echelon of society, their families couldn’t have been more different from one another.  It was strange to him at first.  She was so settled and worldly compared to him, a top-ranked student and yet adorably self-conscious.  While he came from a broken home life, an overbearing father, while still managing to develop his own identity.  But he digresses.  They did have one thing in common.  He leans back on the blanket and closes his eyes to the memory.  

All through high school they’d been completely clueless, and it wasn’t until after graduation, with the help of their friends pointing out the blaring reality of their feelings for one another.

“What are you smiling about?”

Her voice pulls him back.  “Just you,” he takes the piece of watermelon she holds out to him, “and how happy you make me.”

“Aww,” she giggles and hides her smile behind her hand, “you make me happy too.”

Even after all these years he could make her blush with the simplest of compliments.  Her bright smile and the twinkle in her eye whenever she laughed or giggled always made his heart flutter wildly despite the stoic expression on his face.  She’s the only woman who could pull these emotions from him.  Others had tried and failed in the past, and maybe it was with that realization that he was finally able to process their friend’s words all those ages ago.  ‘You love her…’  

‘Yes, I do…’  It was because of her kind encouragement that he was truly able to forgive his father for all the man had done to their family.  Her support gave him strength and her love gave him fuel to be the best hero he could be.  

He feels a weight on his shoulder.  It was Momo resting her head against it while she nibbles on a piece of watermelon and stares out over the ocean.  He kisses her temple and wraps his arm around her, leaning his head against hers.  This would make a for a perfect picture, but he couldn’t bring himself to spoil the moment by pulling out his phone.  That was okay, such memories will always live on within them.

A light sigh and a shift by his wife to further wrap her arms around his mid-section.  She was so content it was a shame that they would have to leave this beach soon.  One didn’t need a watch to know the time, as the sun slowly made its trek across the sky towards the horizon, and the shadows from the tree line washed over their picnic spot.  He of all people understood the power of the elements, yet in that moment, even the roar of the waves was but a peaceful undertone to relax away all the painful toils of their lives and send them away to the depths of the sea.  

“So beautiful,” the words wisp out from Momo’s lips as she stared at the sunset.

How often do they ever get to enjoy this natural phenomenon, and today seemed even more spectacular than he remembered?  The reddish orange ball of fire sent colored heat waves stretching out along the horizon, like a distorted image on a television screen, and darkening the further it settled below the sea blue threshold.  But above it, the colors blended wildly with the sky to produce brilliant purple and blue hues broken up between the spattering of pink orange clouds travelling across the heavens.  

“It’s time to go,” he kisses his wife and gives her arm a gentle squeeze.

“I know,” she sighs.  

“We’ll come back again.  I promise.”

She smiles, “thank you for today Shouto, I really needed this.”

He leans his forehead to hers and closes his eyes, cradling the back of her head.  There was nothing he wouldn’t do for her.  She was everything to him.  “No.  I’m the one who’s thankful,” he leans in and places a lingering kiss on her lips.  “You make me the happiest man in the world.”

“I love you Shouto.”

“I love you too Momo.”

And as they make their way over to the car, he wraps his arm around her shoulder to guide her, taking one last look at the expanse of sand and sea.  Growing up, he’d never expected to be as happy as he was with moments like this one.  Nevertheless, just like that setting sun, old childhood wounds dissolve away into the abyss, leaving just the starry skies that blink of possibilities.  There may not be any photographic chronicles of their adventure today, but the memories will forever be ingrained in their hearts and the love of a woman who helped him get here.  

❤️🤍❤️🤍❤️🤍❤️🤍❤️🤍❤️🤍❤️🤍❤️🤍🥳🥳 Bonus Birthday add on: @reishichi​  Happy Birthday!

As he lay there in the early morning hours, the sun’s rays were just barely peeking through the sheer curtains. Shouto smiles as he gazes lovingly over his wife’s face imagining how lucky he was to have her in his life. It had been a few weeks since their little beach outing, and oh how he wished they’d had more time for such moments. To relax and pretend all the cares of the world had disappeared. If he could spin their world into a perfect utopia for her, he would do it in a heartbeat.

He gently brushes away the stray ebony hairs that have drifted over her face, careful not to wake her. Momo’s shift the evening prior had been a long one, and he wanted to let her sleep in as long as possible. She looked so peaceful lightly curled against his side, trusting of his protection. Her porcelain skin coming alive with the light of the sun.

There was only one thing he could think of to make their lives better than it already was, but it was something that brought trepidation and fears along with the excitement and bliss. He was afraid to bring up the topic of starting a family. Was he ready, were they ready? Oh, who was he kidding, Momo would be an excellent mother. It was he and his poor childhood that caused him the greater pause.

She would probably tell him the opposite, Shouto you’ll be an amazing father… he chuckles in his head as he remembers the long-ago recertification exam. As the baby of the family, he had no experience dealing with children. They were like strange creatures to him that he couldn’t understand. Some people take to parenting naturally, but he just knew that wouldn’t be him. And yet despite those concerns, the desire to have a child with Momo outweighed those fears.

Imagine it… going back to that beach with a little one in tow. Watching him or her scurry after crabs or chasing the waves as they ebb and flow along the sand. Building sandcastles and napping under the sun after a yummy lunch prepared by his wife. A picture of pure bliss that he would love and cherish and give the child all the love he never received growing up with his own father. Bet his siblings would be thrilled to be an aunt and uncle.

When the time feels right, he’ll broach the question. He kisses Momo’s forehead and rests his chin amongst her tresses, closing his eyes with a smile. Sleep my love, as we dream of a sun-kissed future.

[politicalmamaduck]

Reylo Fic Recs: Fantasy, Fae, Magic, Fairy Tale, and Mythology

Ours Is The Fury by @shmisolo

Rey was tasked with taking Storm's End for her king.  She defeated the Storm King Snoke in the Rainwood, but when she proceeded to the castle itself, preparing for a long siege, things did not go to plan.

A Man Called Winter by @reylotrashcompactor

The girl didn’t dream. Perhaps it was because she needed more to fuel nighttime sojourns than fantasies of a full belly, of escaping the desert. Perhaps she exhausted all these dreams years ago, falling to sleep in the soft embrace of hope and waking in the hard grip of reality. Or perhaps dreams simply could not permeate the armored shell she slept inside, those rusted walls resistant to blaster fire as well as the simple comfort of imagination. Maybe this was why, on a particularly stifling night, when sleeping on her gritty pallet in the too-still air finally proved unbearable, and she had rucked the mess of salvaged pilot seats and threadbare blankets into the sand outside her door, that he came to her first. She laid under the stars, straining her exhausted body for a cool breeze, and found sleep. And he found her.

Between Death and Winter by @shmisolo

“I’ll answer none of your questions, crow,” she snapped.Ben placed the butt of the spear down in the snow and leaned on it as he sheathed his sword. He was breathing more heavily than he wanted to admit as he looked down at her.You should kill her, then, he thought in a voice that sounded very much like the Lord Commander’s. If she’d rather die, then let her die.Except there was something wrong in that. He didn’t know why, but it felt wrong.“Pity for you,” he said and he broke the spear over his knee. “I’ll be taking you with me back to Castle Black.”The moment the words were out of his lips, he regretted them. He was the First Ranger, he was in the middle of a ranging—he didn’t have time to keep a spearwife hostage.

all true lovers are by @abstractragedy

She might seem lonely, but Ben can sense that this forest is her faithful audience, and she is nothing but alone. The birds chirp a symphony to her, and the greenery around her bows, grateful to be blessed by her beauty.  She truly is beautiful, but that’s not the entire reason he is so drawn to her.  It’s her Magic.

Wintertide by @transpogrrl

It was important work, gathering fuel for the Burning of the Ren, though only an outcast like the Scavenger could do it. The ceremony marked the turning of one year into the next, and ensured the light would come again to drive back winter’s darkness.The good Queen had tried to change the ancient rite, to mark the year without the loss of one more soul from their war-torn land. But in the ten years since her decree, the disasters sweeping over them had only multiplied. Famine, flood, unearthly winds and the summer’s fires had torn at people’s goodness, and the refugees that sought the Queen’s peace had only taxed it more. When a Wizard suggested that only human sacrifice would appease the angry spirits, the people listened, and demanded a real Ren for the fire.

The Scavenger Bride by @the-reylo-void

After a fairytale summer romance, Rey of Jakku sees her beloved, Prince Ben Solo of Alderaan, off to his uncle's temple, only to learn of his death at the hands of the Dread Knight Ren, a feared warrior who never takes prisoners. But fairytales are never quite that simple, and Rey soon finds herself swept up in a game of political intrigue that threatens to tear the galaxy apart. With new lifelong friends (thieves, but who's counting), mostly-dead ex-boyfriends with too many names, a grumpy wizard who wants nothing to do with any of this, and POUS (Porgs of Unusual Size), Rey's got her work cut out for her and will need her wits, strength, and the strange force she's felt inside of her for years to find her true love. 

The Hunter and the Swordsman by @dreamsdescent

It was the first part of the night, and the Hunter was rising in the sky. Four stars stretched out in each direction, with a belt of three across the middle.For many generations he had watched over her kind during these long nights in the depths of winter, and now he was her only companion.The star that made the Hunter’s right shoulder shone red, reminding her of warmth, of flowers and flesh and blood, of all the things that sustained life amidst the cold emptiness of the heavens.With the fire of earth at her back and the fire in the sky over her face, Rey calmed herself and listened. Soon she could hear it, the song of the red star, low and lonesome like the call of the mourning dove.She reached out to it as if it were to someone, and sang a quiet, but high and warbling answer, as if to say, you are not alone. Whether she was reassuring herself or the other, she did not know.The red star blinked in the sky, beating along with her heart as she fell into a dreamless sleep.

Stolen Hearts by @capaldisrighteyebrow

As the Judge of Souls, Rey weighs humans' hearts to assign their fates. When an imposing man who goes by Kylo Ren shows up without a heart, Rey seizes the chance to solve a mystery that threatens the universe. Returning to the mortal world together, Rey and Kylo rush to find his murderer and restore balance.

The Dragon Queen's Moon by @diadumene

“My handmaidens once told me a story,” Daenerys mused. “During my time in Essos, I would hear many variations of the story. Would you like to hear the one I liked best?”After a moment, Sansa nodded. “I would like that very much, Dany.” Dany gave her a look of approval and straightened her back. “Let me tell you the story of how the dragons were born and the moon and the sun fell in love with one another…”

All In Her Arms by @aionimica

Three things are to be expected when the dragon came back to the stars. The first was that one didn’t leave their home at night.The second was that one didn’t go check the noise they heard at the edge of the woods, no matter the cause.And last and final and arguably most important was that one most definitely did not get married.

in this white wave by @something-pithy

It was King Kylo’s season, and he had been born to rule it. Blood of the Tuatha de Danaan ran in his veins, yes, but in addition to the most glorious of the sidhe,  the darkest of the Unseelie. He had been born to break the wheel and rebuild it anew, to rid the world of the systems and order that stifled it and bring the Unseelie back to power so that they could set the fae free once more. And he would be enjoying his victory -- the death of his twisted, decrepit master, his rightful place in the universe secured, the triumph of the Unseelie over the Seelie -- but for an impudent nocker, a tinkerer, a little no-one who had worked her way into his very soul.In which King Kylo of the Winter Court and Rey of the Summer Court struggle with the past, themselves, and their ferbidden Seelie/Unseelie luuuuuurve.

echoes (again) by @soul8

again and again, she slips from his grasp like moonlight (reincarnation au where ben seeks her through their past lives and maybe, just maybe this time this time will be the last)

there may be something there that wasn't there before. by @aquawolfgirl

She’s a thief, small and lithe. Her days are spent pickpocketing and snatching from market stalls. She has the sun in her skin and the light in her smile. She is beauty. He is a prince, at war with himself. He is a mix of a man, a hybrid of containment and utter chaos. He has the night in his hair and hatred in his eyes. He is beast.cShe just stole from the wrong garden. “You are aware that doesn’t belong to you, are you not?”

Like Blood, Like Honey by @lariren-shadow

“Sweet Rey,” Kylo said as he gently grabbed her chin.  “We’re all monsters in the Unseelie Court.”When Rey moves in with her grandfather the summer before college she expected a part time job at best.  Instead she found herself mixed up in the world of faeries.

Waves Calling Her Home by @shelikespretties

“When will you return to me, Selkie wife?” he taunted. “Have they hidden your skin that well?”She nudged him hard in the ribs with the foot he’d been cradling, pushing him away. “I’m no one’s wife, and my skin is safe exactly where I placed it. I’m not coming back. I’m here for a reason.”

The Sands of Jakku by ASingleWhiteDoe

Rey is a street rat and a scavenger in the deserts of Jakku, but when a haggard man approaches her and Finn about a lamp located in a strange and wonderful cave, all of that changes.

between belief and the sea by @thewayofthetrashcompactor

Rey has a busy schedule: between her part time jobs, trying to get a degree, and breaking into certain people's homes to steal items she can pawn off to Unkar Plutt, she doesn't have time for anything mysterious or unusual. And she's not exactly in the habit of returning lost property. However, something gets her to make an exception. Which somehow mixes her up with Ben Solo, and that turns out to be a hard bond to break.

Song in a Thousand Pieces by @thewayofthetrashcompactor

Snoke holds up a hand. “A nightingale.”The man bows. “Yes, my lord.”“In the Jakku forests.” Snoke’s voice is emotionless.The man pauses before answering, unsure of himself. “Yes, my lord,” he finally says.Snoke settles back into his throne. “Kylo Ren," he orders, and Kylo swiftly steps forward. "Bring it to me.”

Paradise Regained by @lasthopesolo

Where all fates of the universe are decided, there lives a wandering immortal, leaving behind in her wake dried and decayed things. Rey, bringer of death and rot, worries she will never find her place of belonging. Everything changes when she comes across a wailing immortal, the scent of spring clinging vigorously to him as fresh flowers dance in the wind around him.

Wherever There is You, I Will be There Too by @optimus-pam

According to Greek mythology, Tartarus is the deep abyss used as a dungeon of torment and suffering for the wicked. Rey journeys there in search of a lost soul.

it shall not be death by TolkienGirl

Rey of the Jedi Knights is sent with her sword and Holy Fire, to destroy a palace of thorns.It doesn't quite go as planned.

Fated by @shmisolo

Emperor Palpatine declared that it was the new horse in his stable that  would reward Kylo of Alderaan’s saving his life, fulfilling the Law of  Surprise.  But the fates had other plans, and would not be denied.

My own fics in these categories:

Aníron

“Do you remember when we first met?” he asked, tracing her cheekbone. “I thought I had strayed into a dream,” she murmured, looking up into his eyes.“Long years have passed; you do not have the cares that you carry now.” He sighed, looking down and burdened for only a moment. He looked back up at her, focusing his powerful gaze once more. “Do you remember what I told you?”She could not meet his gaze. She knew the words; they were etched on her heart. Yet she still could not believe them, could not believe that he had said them in the first place, let alone held himself to them all these years later. “You said you would bind yourself to me, forsaking the immortal life of your people.”

your love is my immortal crown

A young woman makes a choice and ascends her grandfather’s throne, becoming a goddess and a queen to save her lover, the god of spring, who will stop at nothing to return to her.

The Prince and the Dragon

A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away, there lived a prince who met a dragon woman.

if it were only the stars we had wanted to conquer

Amid a backdrop of persecution of magic users and First Order colonization, Kylo Ren discovers a powerful fellow magic user named Rey on a mission for his master. There is more than meets the eye with Rey's magic, however, and she longs to understand her true calling. Yet her fate is inextricably bound with his own.

I am sending back the key

Rey's mysterious new husband, Ben Solo, asks her not to enter his study. But who is he really and what is the truth about his family history?

Hidden in the Desert Sands

The prince ran away from home, and found himself in the desert. A scavenger's kindness reveals more than scrap metal buried under the sands.

My other fic rec lists:

Fic Recs Under 100 Kudos | Smuggler Ben Solo | Historical AU | Modern AU | Dark Side Rey | Canonverse | Smut |

[deuxjun]

Concupiscent | LTY

Title: Concupiscent Group: NCT Member: Taeyong Genre/Warning: Smut with minimal plot, kind of a gang au kind of not, dom!yong, vulgar language including dirty talk, asphyxiation, spanking, hair pulling, pet names, orgasm denial, oral (mutual)   Summary/Request: In which baby boy Taeyong decides to show his Queen just how much of a King he is when she undermines him | Or in which Taeyong’s Leo moon pops Word count: 6K+ (I’ve had this in my drafts since sept ‘18 please don’t let this flop)

The fact that the heels of your Manilos were touching the floors of downtown Seoul had already soured your mood, but having to leave your Bugatti Chiron on this grimy street, in front of a dingy, rusting club made you outright pissed.

You sauntered up to the entrance, the waves of people parting for you without a word said. The pathetic excuse of velvet rope was already moved to make way for you, your heels clicking against uneven pavement, then muffling when you entered the building and felt your heels sink into the old carpet.

Doing business here was the worst, but supposedly the most conspicuous. Every few months a brand new shitty location found for the meetings to be held. Usually you find it a waste of time, but tonight you had something to say.

“A pleasure as always.” The member in  charge of District 3, Irene, had said upon your entrance, to which you simply nodded in response and found a seat.

A server had started to come around to pour you a drink when they were intercepted. “I can do that for her.” You saw the dust of pink blushing the servers cheeks, simply because of a charming smile from a handsome man and you just had to roll your eyes. “Its her job.” Your tone was clipped, annoyed and Taeyong immediately picked up on the fact. “She’s serving you, I was under the impression that was my job.” His tone was hushed as he placed the flute of champagne in front of you, eyes cautious when they laid on you. You barely spared him a glance. “I’m looking for a king, not a servant" 

The iciness in your tone had Taeyong pausing and then retreating with a nod. Many women would be happy to have a man willing to be at their beck and call, and while you had loved it at the beginning, his recent performance proved that all of that was for nought. If he was unable to progress it would mean nothing. 

"Shall we begin?” District 7 leader Rosé asked. 

Right to business, just the way you liked it. Everyone settled into their seats and began to update the leaders of business in their respective districts. When it came round to you, you were quick to relay what you had to, but needed to voice something else too.  “I have concerns over District 8. We lost 1.3 Million worth of product. A huge loss.” As the words left your mouth Taeyong’s head shot up and the understanding of your mood was apparent in his eyes. But, there was also the beginnings of fury inking out in his dark orbs.

“That was not my-“

"I’m concerned we’ve left the district to someone too inexperienced. We even had fucking detective Jung getting cocky with us, asking for more money. This was not a small slip up and the fact that the person in charge is not taking ownership for the mistake is a weakness in his leadership. We need to re-evaluate." 

Taeyong was positively fuming, you could see the bulge of veins in his near translucent skin,how his jaw ticked under the pressure of clenched teeth. His dark gaze was burning through you and you returned his look with your own steely gaze. Business first.

"While your point is valid, I will have a private conversation regarding district 8. Moving on.” You could tell, you could feel his aura cloud over you, how he struggled to turn his eyes away from you and focus. It seems in more ways than one you affect Lee Taeyong. 

The meeting was adjourned hours later, but Taeyong was held back to speak with the main bosses. He gave one last dark look your way, before he turned away, not watching you walk out. 

The air was much cooler against your skin, the sky devoid of light above the city as you walked to your car and leant on the bonnet, waiting for Taeyong to finish. You may come off as cold and heartless, but you really did care for Taeyong. In your line of business however, mistakes like his needed to be nipped in the bud. You could only hope he understood where you were coming from. 

You spotted the deep red of his hair under a lamplight when he exited. “Tae.” His head turned hearing the familiar voice call out to him. He spared you a glance and scoffed, but then in a split second decided to approach you. He didn’t say anything, in fact he bypassed you and opened your car door. “Give me a ride home."  Now it was your turn to scoff.

Nevertheless you found yourself in your car turning on the ignition. "You can stay at mine tonight.” You didn’t look at him, but you felt his eyes on you as you sped down the highway. He leant toward you suddenly, his breath brushing your skin as he whispered. “You sure that’s a good idea, baby?” Your body betrayed you when you felt the shivers rake down your spine. 

Opting to ignore him, your foot pressed harder on the pedal and you shifted gears till you were well over the speed limit. Taeyong sitting back in his seat with a smirk as you barely managed to manoeuvre amongst other cars occupying the highway.  It was no surprise that in no time you were home.

Your heels were neatly placed by the front door for you to put in their proper place tomorrow. You began to make your way toward the staircase when you felt the gentle weight of Taeyong’s hand on your wrist. His hand had left the door as he shut it, while his other remained on you. He released a sigh of discontent and stepped closer to you, hand slipping from your wrist so that his arms could slither around your waist and hold you closer, his head dropping softly to rest on your shoulder. A rare moment of intimacy admittedly, but one you didn’t shy away from as you brought your own hands to run soothingly through his hair. 

“T…” voice uncharacteristically soft, “are you-“ your voice faded with the beginnings of soft, tender pecks against your shoulder; your thoughts had faded into the abyss of your mind, breath caught in your throat, apprehensive of the warm mouth that was slowing travelling above your collarbone and up the slope of your neck. Each light touch sent a wild spread of tingles, reaching higher and higher till they found your jaw. You found your head slowly turning to meet his lips, half lidded eyes boring into his. 

At long last your mouths met, slowly, in a soft dance, sweet like honey trickling down a tree. It was an unusual kiss, no urgency, no unbridled lust, a kiss that forsaked time, a kiss that didn’t need more, it was a kiss that stopped the cogs of your brain from allowing you to function, a kiss that untangled the threads of reality and made you feel as if the very fabric of the universe no longer existed and instead you were floating in nothingness, but it didn’t matter because Taeyong’s lips were on yours.  

Parting is such sweet sorrow never had as much meaning to you as it did when Taeyong removed his lips from yours and the moment he did air rushed into your lungs, oxygen igniting a fire in your chest. A fleeting moment of silence and catching your breath before Taeyong was gently pulling you toward him again, this time tighter. 

You sighed against his mouth, as if it had been years, instead of the mere seconds that his lips had been parted from yours. Taeyong’s weight pushed you to move backward, clumsily, never leaving his lips, even as your head knocked against the wood of your door. In that moment his mouth pressed a bit harder, a bit more wanton, hands leaving their comfortable place on your hips to run over your legs, up your waist, into your hair; you felt the nimble fingers against the strands, the tugging around and then the slight relief of pressure when he had succeeded in releasing your tight bun. His hands immediately wove into your hair, pressing your head harder against him, a soft groan humming against your lips. 

Much to your protest his mouth left yours, but your complaints weren’t raised once you felt the sensation of his teeth softly nibbling at your neck. You were growing warmer by the second, soon to be going into a dangerous heat that would make you delirious. Your fingers ran his build, gripping him closer. You felt the pressure surely to bring several hickies along your neck moving onto your collarbones. 

A gentle heat spread on the flesh of your thigh gripped in Taeyongs hand. He encouraged your limb higher, to rest on his hip and moved to slot between your legs, even closer to your body. You sighed, his warmth binding into the pores of your skin and making you glow with warmth. 

Your teeth sunk into your bottom lip the moment Taeyong rolled his pelvis into you, deliciously grinding on that telltale spot with purpose.  His lips curve into a smile against your skin, taking pleasure in the change of your voice becoming soft and breathy, his name parting from your mouth like it was all you knew. 

Lips, in all their soft wonder, grazed your skin in a way that contradicted the deepness of his hips pressing into you. You could only cradle him impossibly closer in fear that if there was nothing for you to anchor to, you would really slip away. 

His fingers tickled your thighs, up to your hips to dig in, making your breath hitch, pain mutely registered the deeper he pressed. His ears keened for your low moans, the kind that bubbled from deep within your chest and came out more as a groan. It made him smirk.

A smirk that grew as your startled yelp echoed in the quiet, body thudding harshly against your door as Taeyong forcibly guided you to turn around.

Taeyong’s body closed in on you, fingers drawing into your hair and pulling back harshly to bear your neck for his lips to lay on. His hips dug into your backside, slow and torturous grind completely contrasting the aching grip he had on your hair. He was nibbling your ear lobe, seemingly deaf to your whispers and soft moans for something more. 

His hand laid on your hip, rubbing his thumb back and forth in a slow motion on your clothed skin. "You’re so pretty.” He purred, his hardness evident against you and making you wish to feel him bare, skin to skin. 

“Please.” You whisper, pressing back against him. “Please give it to me baby boy." 

A noise sounds from the back of his throat, barely audible but you heard it, that familiar sweet sound that always has you growing needier. 

He kisses at your shoulder in little pecks and runs his hand lower to the swell of your arse. He squeezes the flesh softly in his palm then slips lower between your legs to press up against your heat. You shudder, trembling slightly when the pads of his fingers slides in a slow movement up and down your centre. 

In a second he has lowered to his knees, a dull thud meeting your ears. Your hair falls against your back, Taeyong bringing his other hand to palm at your meaty flesh. He pushes your dress up, mouthing at the backs of your thighs, up to the teasing skin peeking out of your underwear. You hum in delight, Taeyong leaving no place of bared skin untouched, unkissed and when he presses his face between your cheeks and inhales deeply you whine. 

He tilts his head up further, teeth nipping, nose pressing further into you, meeting your own hips pushing back against him. 

"Relax, baby.” He hushes after pulling back. 

You rest your head against the door, taking slow and deep breaths, just allowing your body to succumb to Taeyong and his touch; he tilts himself away from you to stare at your bottom, to watch his fingers daintily run up and down your thighs, caress over your plumpness, and then finally his fingers tiptoe to the band of your underwear. 

The material crawls down your skin when he begins to lower it, taking his sweet time to let it slide over your cheeks, down your thighs and hit the floor. 

A long beat of silence passes, yet you don’t utter a word. Your ears are filled with the heavy thump of your heart, with adrenaline fueled blood rushing through your exhilarated body, and all you can do is wait, feel the heavy stare of Taeyong’s eyes slowly eyeing your bared flesh until tingles spread over your skin as if it were a physical touch.

The first touch of him on your skin has you sighing in a way that spoke of your need, of the way you crave for that softness unique to him, the care in which he handles you, sedating your body to all he has to offer. 

His hands are gentle and warm, gliding up the backs of your thighs till the weight of your globes are held in each palm. His fingers curl to squeeze and gently dig, lifting to part and reveal your temple that he loves to worship. 

His breath touches you first, like static against you, but then his tongue glides against where your arousal has begun to steadily stream and gone is that static charge, and in place is cloud covered skies lit by lightning, feeling the thunder rattle your insides until you are left shaking against the gentle laps of his tongue seemingly kissed by moonlight, for soon you see stars. 

The wood grates under the clawing of your nails, senses totally engrossed in the sound of Taeyong languidly slurping you up, in the feel of his tongue that seems to be made of magic sliding in a slow motion over your core, in the way he chokes a whimper into you that you know is caused by his adoration for your taste; you’re enamoured and willing to give him everything and know that he is willing to give it all to you, his Queen. 

And in a sudden moment, his spell is broken. Either you’re slow, or Taeyong was just that quick, for in a matter of indiscernible seconds he has risen to his feet, body pressed hard against yours and slipping between your slick folds are the tips of fingers, agile, without a hint of tease when they slide upwards, inside of you, so so embarrassingly easy. 

At the edge of where your sanity seemed to lay are knuckles pressing so harsh and purposefully against you, you lose your breath. Wetness trickles down his skin, like morning dew kissing a petal, the sound of his fingers being sucked in sending his blood rushing south, encouraging him to have you gushing even more for him. 

“I slide so easily into you, baby. You always open up so well for me, don’t you? Your body knows me. Loves me and the things I do to it, right?” He is so soft spoken in your ear, it makes you dizzy with the way the words part from his lips sweetly, yet turn your insides in the same effect his fingers do. 

You can’t find the will in yourself to reply. Not when your body is practically dropping down onto his fingers, making you feel as if they were pressing that much deeper. Not when you can clearly feel its shape, thin and knobbly against your walls that squeeze so tightly around him. But, Taeyong is having none of that, frustration getting the better of him, with a hiss moving his fingers urgently inside of you and all of a sudden, your juices barely able to spill from you with the force of his fingers fucking it back in. 

“Right?" 

Your voice cracks into a sound like glass shattering; broken, sharp, hitting at different volumes in an uneven pattern under the ferocity and speed of his fingers. Your throat hitches and your back bows and Taeyong knows that you’re almost there. Close, so, so close. 

”Please.“ You screech, trembling against the coolness of your door feeling utterly empty and devastated at the loss of your orgasm that you knew you could have reached in just a few more frustrating seconds. ”Please.“ You cry out breathless, sweaty palms squeaking against the door when your body begins to slide down. 

Taeyong has stepped back, distancing himself from you so he could watch the way your skin moved with your trembles, so he could watch you hopelessly hang on and still beg to be pushed to the edge. 

"Turn around.” His low voice carried in the quiet ,past the thump in your ears. He watched your lagged movements, your arms pushing weakly against your door until you were facing him, face flushed, perspiration shining on your skin. “Come here, baby.” You pushed yourself off the door and took the few steps until you were again so close his warmth became yours again. 

He cupped your face, thumbs stroking back and forth beneath your eyes where tears sat at your waterline. “Oh baby,” he began quietly, breath tickling your quivering lips, “don’t cry… I want you to do something for me, can you?” The immediate nod of your head had Taeyong’s soft and fond smile appearing, a smile so familiar to you, unlike how he was tonight. “The safe word that we use for me… you remember it right? I want you to remember if for yourself tonight, okay?" 

A small noise sounds from the back of your throat and you blink once, clearing your head when you reply soft and firm. ”Yes.“ 

Taeyong’s smile is warm, reaching his darkened orbs and making way for pure sunlight, so bright and staring down at you when he says, "good girl” before leaning in to give you a kiss so tender you feel tugs at your heart bringing about a painful ache. 

He parts with a heavy breath and in a moment the light in his eyes flicker until it has completely faded. “I want you to crawl, my love. And don’t stop till I tell you to." 

Your heart skips a beat, eyes trained on his when you lower to your knees. His throat bobs when he swallows, the sight of you staring up at him, so pliant, so beautiful, encouraging that chemical high to fill his body. Your eyes flutter, lashes touching your skin, becoming demure and looking away from his eyes to the floor when you begin to move.

It’s a weird sensation; you knees pressing to the hardness of your floor, the chill running up your body, feeling the linger of Taeyong’s eyes watching the way your body moves slow, the way you are half displayed, arousal coating you, dress creased and shifting. 

Just as you approach the first step, your body bows inward and a harsh startled pain filled gasp parts from your lips, pushed out when the palm of Taeyong’s hand cracks against the flesh of your arse. You still, shaking inches away from the stairs.

Another slap echoes in the eerie quiet and then his voice comes, "keep moving, baby. Don’t stop for nothing." 

Glossy lips quiver, body flushing with aroused heat and then you’re willing your limbs onwards. Your palm lays on the cool of your oak steps, a tingle of sharp shards striking your warmth when you push yourself up the stairs.

At the fourth step his hand comes down heavy again, and at the fourth step your voice breaks as do your movements, hips pressing to the edges of the stairs. "Do I have to repeat myself, baby?”

No. 

It is halfway up the stairs, skin near burning at the sensation of Taeyong’s continued strikes that he croaks good girl and slips two fingers that curl and hook, as if to push you along faster, yet breaks your pace and has your gripping the hardwood with a mewl. 

Taeyong doesn’t have to repeat himself, the feeling of him inside you urges you to move quicker, so much so that he nearly slips from your heat. The bass of his groan feeds into you, desire heavy in the air, surged on with each slap against your skin, with the sound of liquid honey stirring with the push and pull of fingers determined to guide and to taunt until you feel the contraction of muscles deep within.

“You can do it baby. You’re a Queen right? This is light work.“ He scoffs, tone patronising when he looks down at your tiring body, watching you stretch your hand out for that last step, so close, nearly there, until, a hand presses down between your shoulder blades and his fingers are anything but still. 

"JESUS- FUCKFUCKFUCK” God please I’m right there.

“Get up. You have one more step.” 

“Nononotaeyongnopleaseplease” Again. He denied you again. His shadow cast over your body, weak on the steps, subtly trembling and silently crying for yet another orgasm lost. 

 “Oh, do you feel a huge loss? I’m not sure I can help you baby, it’s gone now. I’m not very good at keeping things.” Ignoring your pleas, he slowly bent down, lips closing in on your ear. “Get up my Queen, or will I have to help you?” The dangerous undertone had you freezing up. You were still not used to this Taeyong; to his touch filled with dark lust, to that dulcet tone you were accustomed to now completely faded for something rough, gravelly, his tongue sharp, his eyes akin to a black hole ready to swallow you, it was all so foreign. 

“Help it is.” He hushed, fingers sliding into your hair and all but dragging you over that last step, ignoring your startled cry, or your hands reaching for his. 

Your knees burned and when Taeyong finally came to a stop in front of the hallway mirror you collapsed at his feet. 

“You want a king? Suck this dick like I’m the only one worthy of you, my Queen.” Your glossy eyes stared up at him, already looking down at you whilst his hands busied themselves with his belt and zipper. You swallow the dryness in your throat, shifting on your knees until you were half up, with a hand balanced on his thigh and your other grabbing for his half hard length as soon as he had shifted his boxers lower. 

Taeyong’s throat bobbed harshly, dark eyes taking in the rare sight of you unkempt, hair askew, faintest trails of black in your dried tears, but most of all, those eyes. Wide and so eager, so ready to please him. 

Your tongue flattened from his base and dragged up to his tip, your eyes locked on his face as you tapped his dick against your tongue, then closed your mouth around his tip, allowing saliva to dribble out of your mouth. Your fist twisted up and down, mouth focused on suckling the head of his dick, drawing a pretty moan from Taeyong’s pink lips.

His hands came up to cup your cheeks, his stare turning more affectionate, thumbs sweeping back and forth gently on your skin. “You’re so perfect,” He whispered. “So beautiful, so stunning, my God.”

His hands shift into your hair as you begin to follow your hand down his length, taking in more and more steadily. 

Taeyong’s mouth gapes, watching you with furrowed brows, totally engrossed in the sensation your lips wrapped around him brings, his arousal only spiking at the sound of his dick rutting against your soft spot. 

“Fuck, baby, you’re so good with your mouth.” His fingers tighten in your hair and he slowly drags your head further down, feeling your throat constrict at the invasion. “It’s a shame you have to say dumb shit isn’t it?” He grunts, dragging you backward slowly, then down again, taking his time, ensuring you make his dick nice and wet. Your whimper does not deter him from his attempt to breach your throat, his grip firm when he pulls you down again, slow, ensuring each inch is felt when he slips down the back of your throat, gently holding you in place even as you splutter around him, body wanting to recoil away from him, but Taeyong would not allow that, nestling deep as possible. 

Your eyes squeeze shut, the tears that had pooled in your eyes sliding down your face and meeting the drool spilling past your lips. He draws back carefully, letting his tip rest in your mouth, allowing you a few seconds to inhale through your nose and then carefully sliding in deep again, repeating this rhythm of slowly filling your throat, of letting his length block your airways. 

“So goddamn beautiful, yet so fucking infuriating.” His voice has become shaky, breathy and distant whispers as he watches you. Follows the gentle slide of his dick, of your mouth stretching around him, how you were becoming ruined, dirtied by your own spit, by your running makeup. “Always doubting me, my Queen. Do I look like a king yet?" 

The moment your eyes roll back, a weird sensation passes over you. There is a heavy pressure in your head, making you feel as if your skull could implode, your heart is as erratic as your body panics at the lack of air, but then it is as if a wave of calm washes over you, vision becoming fuzzy until it feels as if the black edging your eyes would take over completely. 

Your body hits the floor. Eyes unfocused, head lulling around against the hard surface, your head so disoriented you don’t even notice how hard your body is heaving to fill your lungs with air to prevent you from passing out after being denied oxygen for so long. 

Taeyong immediately crouches down, sweeping his hand beneath your head and allowing it to rest on his thigh, caring hands stroking your cheek, cooing at you. "Shh, breathe baby. You’re okay, you’re okay, I’m here, I’m here, always here.” Your eyes finally stop rolling and you find the ability to focus on his voice and his voice alone, clinging to it as the blackness fades and you finally stabilise your breathing. 

You blink the remaining tears away and find Taeyong, your sweet, sweet angel Taeyong looking down at you with the gentlest smile. “You good?” He asks quietly. Swallowing hard, you whisper back, “I’m good." 

He leans down to close the gap, stealing your breath in an entirely different way when your lips meet, a soft collision that felt like sinking into a pillow of clouds, warm emotion wrapping around the two of you. He pulls back with his eyes closed, his breath fanning your face when he breathes out and opens his eyes to stare adoringly at you again. "We aren’t finished yet, my Queen." 

Taeyong keeps control when he pushes you to sit up and when he strips you of your dress and underwear. His hands travel your body as if he is exploring a newfound beauty that God has blessed him with, fingers kissed by angels and fluttering like their wings. His fingers tickle up your neck and flick off your chin and you find yourself wanting to say take me my king.  

Instead, you are silent, awaiting his next move; he shifts on his knees behind you, until he is able to drape himself over your body, his weight a false security blanket, clothed chest brushing the sweaty expanse of your back, a hand, one finger at a time laying the curve of your neck, thumb and fingertips against your jaw, keeping your head up and making eye contact in the mirror. This way you are able to see the dark depths of his eyes as he guides his length to your dripping folds, his tip playing against your slit, up and down, brushing against your clit, until finally, you feel him press against your entrance, your walls already clenching, eagerly waiting to be filled. 

The first inch is euphoric, the first hint of stretch welcomed. The second inch, dizzying, lips pulled between teeth and eyes glossing over, out of focus but completely engrossed in the sensation at the same time. The third, filling you just as slow, is maddening, your warm heat attempting to swallow more of him in, body doing the begging for you. Inch after inch only aggravates the trembles, only sedates your tense muscles until you are slack and at complete mercy to his penetration. When he finally bottoms out, it is a feeling indescribable, to be one with him, to be completely full of him. 

“How does that feel, my Queen? Is my dick serving your sweet little cunt well?” An almost distressed moan leaves your lips, nails scratching at the floor in desperation.  Taeyong leans even further over you until your chest presses down to the floor,  your head resting to the side and all you can see is your tear stained face clutched by his hand. The first pull of his length feels like a shock, your body feeling yourself become empty, and Taeyong kisses your cheek, lips hotly resting by your ear when he slowly fills you up again.”Tell me my love. Is this what you wanted? Is this how you like your king?” He punctuates his next words by slowly sliding back into you again. “To own your pussy? To make you a mess? To make you cum so hard you forget how to function?”

Your breath hitches and as he pushes that last inch back in you gasp an airy, fucked out yes, voice not even sounding like your own. He chuckles against your ear, a new kind of shiver wracking through your being at its deepends, its sinister undertone. And that’s when he fucks you harder. Dragging his length back slow only to rut into you with one hard thrust that shakes every inch of your being. 

“Oh, my lovely queen you feel so fucking good. I could stay buried in you forever.” He rasps out, another harsh push of his hips. You feel drool slide out of your gaping mouth, you can see your eyes, murky and dark, so foreign as they stare back at you in the mirror. And Taeyong. You can see Taeyong’s eyes running your sweaty and pliant form in your reflection, the way your body responds to him, the way he makes you feel, the way he is taking you as he should: Like you are his. 

“Don’t you have anything to say now? C’mon my dear Queen, give me some tips on leadership” He suddenly sits up, pulling you up by your jaw, making you watch the tears stream down your face, his cock slowly sliding in and out of you as you babbled. “Don’t tell me, you’ve become totally incoherent for my dick baby? You really can’t think? Oh? But you were so snappy back then, so quick to bring up my lack of shortcomings. But here you are, a limp mess.” He hisses into your ear, dark eyes staring you down. 

“Too inexperienced.” He drags up back to meet his harsh thrust.

“Weakness.” He growls, circling his hips against your soft flesh, his dick rubbing against your walls. 

“Imsorryimsorrypleaseimsorry” You slur, clenching your jaw when a sudden wave of something electrifying runs through you. 

“What was that?” He hisses, pulling you up against his chest.

"I-I’m sorry.” You whimper. “You are my king. You’re mine.” You whisper, looking up at him, turning your head as much as you can under his grip to press a soft kiss to his jaw. 

Taeyong silently shifts, eyes never leaving yours. He brings his other hand up to join your jaw, fingers interlocking atop your neck to keep your head back looking up at him. His lips rest on your forehead, hot and heavy pants and engulfing eyes staring back into yours and as he witnesses the desperation in your eyes shift into something more he rolls his hips, sinfully slow hitting hard and that precise moment when he’s near;y as deep as he can be inside of you, he pushes hard, pressing his hips tightly against your backside, and this is how he continues, fluid slow and hard thrusts fucking into you, the slight pressure on your throat making you feel lightheaded and as if you were on the verge of floating away. 

Taeyong grunts, pulling your head back further if possible, moving his face down to lick into your mouth, to kiss your lips carefully and soft and swallow your sounds each time rattles your body with the strength of his strokes and in a sudden, overwhelming moment, your skin is alight, your eyes are rolling to the back of your head and your pulse is in your ears, a loud thump thump as your blood rushes and you shake in Taeyong’s arms so much so you’re afraid you will fall apart as you cum at long last. 

Taeyong allows your body to fall to the floor, his chest immediately pressing down on your back whilst his hand scrambles for yours to press it further into the floor and he begins to rut faster against you, panting and groaning and moaning all kinds of sweet melodies in your ear, his other hand reaching down and grabbing your hip to lift for his hand to slide under and find your clit. You cry out, broken and weak as his fingers  incessantly rub circles and he continues fucking into you, murmimg word sin your ear that you can’t even process and as he pushes deeply into you, you feel the spurts of his orgasm filling you up, his groan fanning over your skin as he collapses atop of you, fingers still on your slit until he can’t feel your walls spasming around him again. 

It seems like forever until he rolls off of you, staring up at the ceiling panting while you lay immobile on your stomach. 

After a moment of gathering himself, Taeyong looks over at you, gulping before deciding to roll over and gently press his lips to your shoulder, his delicate fingers carefully moving the hair plastered to your face out of the way.

“Are… are you okay?”

“Hmm…” You reply after a few seconds, voice croaky, blinking the fuzziness from your eyes. “I am sorry you know… But in this busi-” 

“I know.” Taeyong is silent for a moment, thinking over his words. “I know my place,” He finally sighs, “I was just… Hurt… I thought you would have spoken to me first, but when you acted cold and called me out… it hurt.” 

“I know, I didn’t mean to hurt you… Next time I won’t interfere… What did they say anyway?” 

Taeyong turns his cheek to the side resting against your warm skin. “I explained everything to them. I told them how I had sorted it. They were happy.”

“You…You sorted it? How?” You shift and Taeyong lifts his head, watching as you turn your head to face him. 

Smirking, “If you had spoken to me first, you would have known how. I’ll tell you everything in the morning.” He promises, sweetly pecking you on the lips. He rests his head on the floor next to your head, the both of you quietly staring into each other’s eyes and you feel your eyes threatening to close when Taeyong brings his hand up to massage his fingers through your hair. “Let’s go to bed, I don’t fancy sleeping out here.” Taeyong moves to stand and then reaches out to help you and you pause, narrowing your eyes at him. “You’re still the little spoon.”

Taeyong’s eyes glittered as if the sun had caught the stars waiting in them, lips pulled back in a wide, adoring grin. “Of course, my Queen." 

[johaerys-writes]

Witcher AU: Viper In Tall Grass

Chapter (3/3): Fast Approaching Dusk

Summary: Tristan of Toussaint is a witcher, his life dedicated to following the Path of the Viper. It is curiosity more than anything that leads him to Emperor Emhyr var Emreis's court. That is where he meets Dorian Pavus, lead sorcerer and advisor to the crown of Nilfgaard, and his life as he knows it changes for good.

They say that destiny is inexorable. Tristan is starting to see the wisdom in that saying.

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This is the third and final part of the prequel fic I wrote for the as-yet-untitled Witcher AU my beloved potate @solas-disapproves​ and I have been working on! Hope you enjoy!

Warning: Smut under the cut :)

Read here or on AO3!

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Pain, dull and hollow. Breath, short and panting. Head heavy. Lids heavier. Scattered thoughts, twisted images, broken shards of something that must have been whole, once, a long time before. A young girl’s laugh, blonde hair so pale it almost looked white. Blue eyes so dark they looked like deep, whirling pools. A mirror of his own. The gleaming edge of a dagger in the night. A viper’s forked tongue, flickering. A plunge into a yawning abyss.

Tristan woke up with a gasp, coughing and sputtering, agony spearing his sides. Bright light stabbed his retinas, searing white rays piercing his brain. He reached out, searching for his daggers, oblivious to the pain that flared with his every move. His daggers, he had to find his fucking daggers-

“Easy! Easy. It’s alright. You’re safe. Great Sun Almighty, you’ll undo all your bandages the way you’re thrashing about.”

That smooth, velvet voice made Tristan stop abruptly. He blinked, his vision clearing somewhat. Pavus was kneeling next to him, brows furrowed in concern. Tristan squinted, trying to get his eyes to adjust to the sunlight that was streaming through the foliage overhead, framing Pavus’s face like a halo.

“What- what happened?” Tristan said, his voice a forced croak. He tried to sit up, but the mage’s hand on his shoulder stopped him.

“Lie down. You need rest.” He uncorked a water skin, bringing its mouth close to Tristan’s lips. His palm eased behind Tristan’s neck, holding his head steady as he helped him drink. His touch was gentle, caring. Tristan couldn't even remember the last time someone had touched him with so much tenderness. He made a weak attempt to pull away, but as soon as the fresh water reached his lips he realised how parched he was. He drank thirstily, thin streams of liquid running down his cheeks, soaking his hair that clung to the back of his neck. He drank until the water skin was empty, yet he would have gladly drank a couple more. Pavus gently withdrew his hand from under his neck, his fingers soft as they brushed against his skin. He let his head fall back on the makeshift pillow that Pavus had made for him. It felt like one of his cotton undershirts. It smelt like him, too.

“What… where is the Fiend?” he asked, trying to take his mind off of Pavus’s scent that seemed to be everywhere around him all of a sudden.

Pavus quirked an eyebrow as he put the cork back on the waterskin. “Where do you think it is? Lying dead in a bloodied heap, where you left it.”

“Ah.” Tristan took in his surroundings. A merry fire was crackling close to him, its soothing warmth seeping into him through his woollen blanket. A pot was hanging over it, its contents simmering away. Pavus’ bedroll, clean and neatly folded, was almost touching his own. Had he slept next to him all the while Tristan had been unconscious?

The swell of affection that flooded his chest was surprising, and wholly uninvited. Tristan took a breath and cleared his throat in an effort to ease it away. He was still woozy from sleep. Must have been. “How long was I out?”

“Two days. More or less.”

“Two days? Fuck,” Tristan breathed. “What… what happened?”

“What happened? You mean you don’t remember getting skewered by that Fiend’s antlers?”

“Yes, I… I remember.” Tristan winced at the memory of the Fiend’s snout, its foul breath so close to him. Of its burning eye in the darkness, luring him into an agonising end. Of its claws and its deafening roars, and of Pavus's face, pale and drawn as he watched him teetering on the precipice of death. Tristan shook his head gently, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment before he opened them again. “What happened after?

“You were half dead by the time I dragged you off that thing. The antler had gone straight through your lung. Healing is not my field of expertise, but I did manage to stem the bleeding somewhat. Couldn’t do much about the scarring, I’m afraid. Had to stitch and wrap the wound with the healing kit I had on me. After that, I came back to fetch my horse and carried you back here.” Pavus let out a sigh, leaning back on his arm. A tiny teasing smile was on his lips when he gazed at him. “You’re much heavier than you look, you know.”

“Right,” Tristan said, a faint blush creeping up his cheeks. “Sorry about that.”

Pavus waved absently. “Apologise to my horse. The scent of the Fiend’s blood almost gave him a heart attack. He’s still jittery. The faintest sound can send him off. Your horse seems to be doing splendid, though.”

“She’s used to that sort of thing.”

“I’ve gathered as much.” Pavus stood up, leaning over the pot by the fire as he stirred its contents. When he came to sit back down next to Tristan, he was holding a steaming bowl of stew. “You should eat something. Shall I help you with it?”

Tristan shook his head, propping himself up on his elbow, wincing at the pain in his side. The stew was hot, burning his tongue as he took a spoonful. It tasted faintly of spices. “It’s good.”

“Of course it is,” Pavus said with a smirk. “Certainly much better than that bland porridge you made yesterday.”

Tristan grunted a half hearted assent as he chewed, then nodded at a small pouch that was lying close to the mages’ belongings, stained with blood. “Did you get what you came for?”

“I did.” Pavus glanced over his shoulder, following Tristan’s gaze. “That Fiend won’t be missing its third eye.”

Its third eye. So that was what he’d wanted all along. That was what Emhyr wanted to get his hands on. A Fiend’s third eye was said to have many powers and strange applications, but most of the rumours were simply that; rumours. Superstition. Old wives tales about knights who battled Fiends to obtain their third eye, which would miraculously bring their beloved back to life or that could be given to demons in exchange for riches and power. Tristan doubted his knowledge now. What could the Emperor of Nilfgaard possibly want to do with that eye? What were they up to?

In his dream-like haze, Tristan almost voiced those questions. As soon as he opened his mouth, though, he quickly snapped it shut again. Witchers didn’t ask these sort of questions. Whatever Pavus was looking to do with it, was his own business. And as soon as Tristan was paid the entirety of the gold promised to him, this whole affair would stop being any of his.

“You witchers heal surprisingly quickly,” Pavus said as he watched him eat, stirring him out of his thoughts. “I managed to make you drink one of those healing potions in your pouch while you were unconscious - at least I hope it was a healing potion. It reeked abominably to me. You didn’t die, so I guess it worked, yes?”

“You went through my potions?” Tristan’s eyes widened. “You know they’re highly toxic for anyone that isn't a witcher, right? And how did you know which one to give me?”

“Oh, please. I could recognise the smell of swallow and celandine anywhere. Although there was something else positively horrid in there that I couldn’t quite place.”

“That must have been the drowner brains,” Tristan said, smirking when he saw Pavus’ eyes widening, his nose wrinkling in disgust. “Or the vitriol.”

“The horror,” he breathed, pressing his hand on his chest. “The things you poor fellows have to ingest. No wonder you’re so irritable.” Tristan glowered at him, and Pavus laughed mirthfully under his breath. He gave him a warm smile after his laughter had eased away, letting his gaze glide over Tristan’s features. Tristan felt that familiar flush returning to his cheeks, and he hastily looked away. When the mage spoke again, his voice was soft like a whisper. “It almost got you, you know. I’ve never seen a gash this nasty."

Tristan lifted the blanket that Pavus had draped over him. His armour had been removed to be replaced by soft cotton breeches. The bandages on his chest were clean, freshly changed, the strong smell of antiseptic ointment reaching his nostrils. And soap. A startling realisation suddenly dawned on him, making his breath hitch. Pavus had removed his armour, washed him, dressed his wounds, put him in clean clothes. Pavus had seen him naked. Fuck. Shit.

His face was burning when he swiftly let the blanket fall over him again. “I’ve had worse,” he grumbled, eyes fixed on his bowl of stew, hoping against hope that his furious blush wasn’t as noticeable, although he must have looked red like a pomegranate by then. He scooped up the last of his meal and pushed the bowl away, lying flat on his back with a grunt.

"That’s easy enough for you to say. You didn’t see the wound when it was fresh. If the Fiend's antler had got you just an inch to the right, I'm not certain I would have been able to do much. If it were your spleen instead of your lung you would have bled out before I’d even reached you."

Tristan shrugged indifferently. “Perhaps. But it didn’t. And I-” he shot him a sideways glance as he spoke at him, and his words died in his mouth. There was worry lingering in the mage’s eyes, his brows drawn in a thoughtful frown. Tristan felt irresistibly drawn to that curious silver gaze, like a moth was drawn to light. "I, uh…" he started, gulping thickly. "Thank you. You…" He paused, letting out a low chuckle. It sounded weak and painful. "It seems I owe you my life."

Pavus looked at him quizzically for a long moment, tilting his head to the side. "You think so? It never occurred to me. I could invoke the Law of Surprise, I suppose. That might come in handy."

Tristan frowned at him. Invoking the Law of Surprise was no laughing matter, and he had heard of countless people getting into trouble for merely mentioning it. Pavus huffed in amusement when he noticed his disgruntled expression. "I'm simply joking, naturally. If anything, I owe you my life. If it hadn't been for you jumping onto that beast's head, it would have been me lying where you are now. If I were here at all." Pavus held his gaze, his gaze softening. "If thanks are to be given, then you should have mine."

Tristan's heart fluttered in his chest, a blade of grass trembling with the wind. He licked his lips, swallowing thickly. "You-uh… It-it's alright," he stammered. "You don't have to… You placed yourself in danger, too. If it hadn't been for you drawing the Fiend's attention while it had me in hypnosis-" He shook his head. “You could have ran off, then. Should have, actually. Yet you didn’t.”

"Oh, please. As if I would have left you to die out there. Not when you’d finally started warming up to me."

"I… what?"

Pavus' smile widened. "You grabbed a Fiend quite literally by the antlers to save me. You also haven't snapped or grunted in the last ten minutes. Not much, at least. If that's not warming up, then I'm not sure what is.”

"I don't… that's not-" Tristan frowned, pursing his lips in some desperate attempt to appear stern. “I gave my word to the Emperor that I would see you back safe. Witchers live and die by their word. That's what they should do, at least.”

“Was that the only reason you did it?” Pavus whispered, shifting just an inch closer to him.

Tristan’s first instinct was to edge back, safely away. Instead, he found himself watching him wide eyed, unable to move, a deer before bright lights. “I… I-” He dabbed his lips with his tongue, swallowing thickly. The words left his mouth before he could stop them. “I didn’t want to see you get hurt."

With a soft sigh, Pavus moved closer still, covering the distance between them. His lips were only a hair away from Tristan's when he paused, his breath tickling his skin. "I like you, too.”

As if drawn by a spell, Tristan leaned in, catching his plush, velvet lips in a kiss. The mage moaned softly, fingers threading in Tristan’s hair. Tristan’s hands tangled in his robes when he reached out, pulling him towards him. His injury nipped with his movements, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. Pavus’ lips were soft and warm against his, and he tasted of cardamom and cloves, and his fingers were soothing as they smoothed down the sides of his neck. Tristan could almost feel the vibration of his magic running over his skin, tingling, drawing him in.

“I want you,” Tristan whispered. He ran his palm down the mage's back, feeling his muscles under the thick fabric. “I want- I want-”

“I want you, too.” Pavus closed his teeth over Tristan’s bottom lip, nipping and sucking lightly as his hand left his neck to skim carefully over his bandages, palm brushing over the bulge in Tristan’s breeches. Deft fingers slithered under his waistband and it wasn’t long before Tristan groaned against his lips, thrusting into his hand when it wrapped around his hardness. “I want you so much.”

“Yes,” Tristan nodded, hypnotised, riding the waves of pleasure that washed through him, unable to hold back. Everything else around him had faded away, even the pain at his sides, and there was only Pavus there, and his lips, his tongue, his hands- fuck, his hands-

Pavus’ mouth left his own to brush along his jaw, down his neck, along the dip of his chest. Tristan held his breath as he watched him trail ever downwards, every touch sending ripples of electricity down his spine. The mage held his gaze firmly, lips quirked in a teasing smile before they closed over his cock.

Tristan moaned, fingers snaking into Pavus’ hair. His mouth was warm and slick, his tongue smooth like velvet as it pressed against him. He shivered as he was swallowed whole, that rich heat enveloping him until he could think of nothing else. He wondered idly whether he had ever felt anything as pleasant, whether there was anything in the world that would compare to that, to that sweet torture, to that slow, agonising pleasure. His fingers were soft when they curled around the base of his cock, when they caressed his thighs, when they trailed upwards to touch the exposed skin of his chest. His sterling grey eyes were fixed on Tristan’s, his intense gaze stealing the air from his lungs. How had he held himself back from this- from him- all these days? How had he managed to keep his hands off him for so long?

“Fuck, you feel so good,” Tristan rasped, pulling him up. Pavus hovered over him, straddling him. Tristan pried his mouth open with his tongue, the taste of him on Pavus’ lips sending shivers coiling and unraveling through him. He slithered his palms under the mage’s robes, feeling the tight muscles of his thighs, fingers digging at the firm flesh of his buttocks through his smallclothes. He hooked a digit over the waistband, the rich fabric retreating easily under his fingertips. “Silk?” he whispered, and the mage chuckled softly.

“Oh, yes,” he murmured against his lips. “Only the best kind.” He gasped when Tristan pulled at it, the silk fabric ripping at the seams. He edged back to look at him, a stern expression on his features. “You owe me a pair of very expensive underwear, you know.”

“I’ll make it up to you.” Tristan brushed his fingers over Pavus’ mouth, then sighed as those full, luscious lips wrapped around his digits. Sucking gently, caressing them with the flat of his tongue. Teeth closing over his fingertips. Eyes trained on his own. Did Pavus even realise the effect his eyes had on him? Could he see, could he feel the rolling waves of lust that rushed through him with his every glance? The pulse that roared in Tristan’s ears with every touch?

He dragged his fingers out slowly, replacing them with his tongue. “You’re brilliant,” he whispered, voice low and hoarse. “Just bloody brilliant.” He reached down, closing his palm around Pavus’s length, brushing his thumb over the bead of dew that had gathered at the tip. The mage tilted his head back, sighing as Tristan placed a trail of kisses along the underside of his jaw, pumping him slowly. He took a deep breath, letting his rich scent fill his lungs.“And you smell so… so-”

“Yes?” Pavus breathed, reaching out for his bag, rummaging through its contents until he pulled out a small vial. He dropped some of the liquid on his palm, then reached down between them to smooth it over Tristan’s shaft.

Tristan’s mouth watered when the spicy scent of the oil reached his nostrils. His pulse quickened, a hot white rush that surged through him in a wave. “You smell so-” he grunted softly, thrusting in Pavus’ hand. “You-you smell... incredible.”

“What else do you like about me?” the mage asked, carefully angling Tristan at his entrance.

“You’re- ah- you-” Tristan’s eyes rolled back at the contact. He clenched his jaw, fingers sinking in Pavus’s thigh. “Your mouth. Your lips. Your skin. Your eyes. They’re beautiful. You’re-” He gazed up at him, running his tongue over his lips. “You’re beautiful.”

Pavus leaned down, brushing his nose over his. “You’re not that bad looking yourself,” he whispered, his lips curved in a smirk.

Tristan groaned at the back of his throat as the mage sank slowly, ever so slowly over his hardness, as the tip of his cock slipped inside his tight heat. “Fuck, this is- this is-”

“It’s good, isn’t it?” Pavus said breathlessly, taking him in a little deeper. A deep flush had risen up his cheeks when he quirked an eyebrow at him. “Makes you feel like an idiot for not doing it sooner, yes?”

Tristan rolled his eyes and huffed in exasperation, though it was half hearted. Mainly because Pavus was right. “You talk too much,” he grunted, cupping his neck to pull his lips down to his, hips bucking upwards a bit more. He kissed him deeply, tongue caressing the roof of his mouth, drinking in the gasps that escaped Pavus as he thrust lightly, shallowly until he was sheathed to the hilt.

“Yes- Sun, yes-” the mage moaned, grinding helplessly against him. He was tight -fuck, was he tight- deliciously warm, infernally good. He pushed into him over and over, chasing every sliver of that sweet bliss. Pavus threw his head back when Tristan closed his fist over his cock, pumping him in time with his thrusts. “Yes- harder, please…”

The breathiness, the need in his voice, the flush of his cheeks, his glistening lips, they made the roaring fire that flooded Tristan’s chest soar to something uncontrollable. He gripped his hips, dragging him down as he surged up, driving himself deeper. His pulse was buzzing in his ears, warmth surging through him with every thrust, his breath catching in his throat, his breath-

Tristan stopped abruptly, his head falling back against the pillow as his lungs spasmed, seeking more air. His hold on Pavus’s hips tightened, holding him steady. “Wait,” he croaked, voice thick and strained.

The mage blinked at him, lifting himself up. “What? What happened?” He was panting, sweat gathering on his brow. It glowed in the evening sun, like beads of golden dew.

Tristan gulped, inhaling slowly through his nose. “I just- I need to catch my breath.” His wound stabbed him every time his chest rose and fell, making it hard to speak. Pavus was watching him wide-eyed, sitting perfectly still on top of him.

“Are you alright? Shall we stop?” he asked, anxiously searching his face. He shifted where he was, lifting himself up. “Perhaps I should-”

Tristan grabbed him tightly, pulling him back down. “Don’t- don’t move,” he rasped. He winced as his lung stabbed at him, and he felt the mage’s back stiffen, saw his eyes widen in concern. Tristan let out a slow exhale, caressing Pavus’s sides under his robes. His muscles were tight underneath his smooth skin, and Tristan let his fingers glide over them, tracing the line that led to his navel with his thumb. “Let’s just take it slow.” He languidly ran his fist down the mage’s length, watching with keen eyes as his eyes rolled back and his lips parted on a moan. “I want to feel you. Really feel you.”

“Slow. Yes.” Pavus nodded, breathless. “I want to feel you, too. You feel so good. So hard. So thick. So-” He rocked against him, palms bracing on the ground on either side of Tristan’s head. He was moving slowly, infuriatingly slowly, but his pace did nothing to quell the roaring blaze of want that surged through him. If nothing else, it kindled it even more.

Tristan fumbled with the buttons and buckles of Pavus’s clothes as the mage rode him - what need was there for all these blasted buckles, anyway?- until he was blissfuly bare, his robes discarded beside them. Until he was hovering over him in nothing but his skin. And what a glorious skin that was - smooth like velvet, rich like caramel, catching the rays of the setting sun, glowing. Tristan dragged his palm down his torso, feeling the contours of his taut muscles. He sighed when he brushed his thumb over a raised nipple, the tight nub stiffening under his touch. Pavus’s teeth closed over Tristan’s bottom lip, his hand slithering in Tristan’s hair as he moaned, as he picked up his pace, lowering himself over and over on his cock. “Tristan,” he breathed, long fingers wrapping around his strands, pulling. “Oh, Tristan-”

His name, spoken in Pavus’s breathless voice, was enough to set his blood aflame. Before he could stop to think, he gripped the mage tightly, shifting his weight to flip him on his back. The wound nipped under the bandage, and he winced in pain, biting the inside of his lip.

The mage gaped at him. “Wait- your injury-” he started, but only managed to let out a loud moan when Tristan thrust eagerly back into him.

“Fuck my injury,” Tristan grunted, crashing his mouth against Pavus’ again, ignoring the pain in his side as their lips touched, chasing every other thought and sensation away. There was nothing else in the world but him, his velvet heat warming him to his very core, his scent that flooded his senses, the taste of him that lingered on his tongue when he brushed it over his throat. He pushed harder, as hard as he could, hooking an arm under his leg to burrow more of his cock inside him.

Pavus’s head fell back, his fingers digging into Tristan’s shoulder blades as Tristan drove himself deeper. The mage’s lips that pressed against the side of his neck, the streams of garbled sentences and curses that ran over Tristan’s skin as he reached down to stroke himself in time with Tristan’s thrusts, his eyes that rolled back with his climax, they were all too much, far too much. The heat and tension that had coiled in his gut burst into something white hot and blinding as he shuddered, letting the vibrations of Pavus's ecstasy wash through him.

Tristan collapsed on top of him, suddenly feeling every last bit of his strength leaving him. His limbs ached and trembled, and the skin at his sides tingled when Pavus ran his palms over it. With soft, careful movements, the mage rolled him on to his back, his fingers lingering on him for just a breath before sitting up to pull a blanket over them both. They lay next to each other for a long while, the chirping of the birds and their own breaths, gradually softening, the only sounds between them.

Tristan inhaled deeply, taking in the quiet of the moment. He watched Pavus from the corner of his eye, studying his languid movements. His heavy lids, fluttering softly. The thin film of sweat that still clung to his brow. He wondered idly whether it had all really happened, or whether the past half hour or so was part of a fever induced dream. A wonderful dream, yes, but a dream nonetheless.

Pavus shifted were he lay, curling his arm under his head. “You can just look at me, you know,” he said sleepily. “You don’t have to peek.”

Tristan frowned, turning away. “I am not peeking.”

“Yes, you are. You’ve been doing it ever since the moment you saw me.”

Tristan’s cheeks flared hot and bright, and he cleared his throat irritably. “I’ve been doing nothing of the sort.”

“For someone who prides themselves on their stealth skills, you’re not very subtle.”

Tristan rolled his eyes, huffing. “Are you always so mouthy, Pavus?”

“Well, of course I am,” the mage chuckled. “It’s one of my greatest assets. Something to which you yourself can attest.” He propped himself up on his elbow to fix him with a pointed look. “And, by the way, my name isn’t Pavus.”

“What?”

“My name. It’s not Pavus. It’s Dorian.”

“I know what your name is,” Tristan grumbled, pursing his lips. He felt like a petulant child all of a sudden.

“You know it, yet you never use it.” He leaned closer, brushing his nose over his. “Just try it. It’s not that difficult. Dorian. Do-ri-an.”

Tristan took a tremulous breath, resisting the urge to surge forward and run the flat of his tongue over those full, glistening lips. “Dorian,” he said after a brief moment of hesitation, poignantly drawing the vowels out. “There. Happy?”

“Very.” Dorian flashed him a wide smile, his finger tracing the raised scar on Tristan’s collarbone. “Now that we’ve learned the basics, we can move on to something more advanced, yes? Let’s start with… ‘You look positively splendid today, Dorian’. That’s always nice to hear. Or ‘I thoroughly enjoy your company, Dorian’. Or ‘Your wit and charm is unparalleled, Dorian’. Or…”

Tristan pulled him down for a deep, passionate kiss, their tongues twining. “You drive me mad, Dorian.”

Dorian laughed against his lips, pressing his body closer against his. “I love hearing that, too,” he whispered. “Especially when it comes from you.”

**

The days of travel until they got back to Vizima rolled by swiftly, much more swiftly than Tristan would have liked. Even more than he would care to admit. The long hours on the saddle by day, listening to Dorian’s voice, drinking in the sound of his laugh. The longer hours at night, when they lay together by the fire until the early morning rays found them. It was as if Tristan was in a constant dream-like haze, his mind filled with thoughts of him, the taste of him, the feel of him. Pure, unfiltered bliss. Ecstasy in slow motion.

When the tall towers of the palace of Vizima rose before them, it was as if someone had stabbed him in the spleen and left him for dead in a shallow ditch.

They didn’t exchange too many words as they solemnly rode through the town’s tidy cobblestone streets. The people parted when they passed, with quick, uneasy looks at Dorian’s magnificent horse, Tristan’s armour and the amulet hanging about his neck. A few even flinched when they met his eyes, praying to their gods under their breath.

Dorian’s expression was serious and grim when their horses’ hooves reached the stone bridge that arched over the deep, broad moat that separated the castle from the rest of the world. They both dismounted, reluctantly handing their reins to the stable boys that rushed out to get their steeds. Var Heid was already waiting for them by the inner courtyard. He gave them both a small bow, hawk like eyes examining them when he straightened back up.

“Was the gentlemen’s journey satisfactory?”

“As a matter of fact, it was,” Dorian said with a sickly sweet smile. “But it was also long and tiring. So, you will excuse us if we go straight to our rooms, yes? I could use a bath.”

Var Heid’s gaze fleeted to Tristan, no doubt taking in every detail of his appearance. “I can imagine,” he said flatly. “I am afraid this is not possible. The Emperor has requested to see you as soon as you arrive.”

“I see.” Dorian straightened up, brushing his palms over his robes, then shot Var Heid a contemptuous look. “Well? What are we waiting for?”

Var Heid sniffed as he turned around, leading them through the castle. Dorian rolled his eyes behind the steward’s back, his lips pursed in an annoyed frown. Damn it. He was beautiful even when he was irked. Perhaps even more so then.

A sharp pang of bitterness drove through Tristan as he followed him through the narrow corridors, secretly wishing for Var Heid to take the long way to the Emperor's office.

A short while later, Tristan was walking back out of the palace, his coin pouch significantly heavier than it was before. The sun was setting, casting its waning golden light upon the world as he made his way to the stables. Almond neighed softly when she saw him, chewing on some fresh straw. He reached out, stroking her forehead, letting his gaze drift past the stable window, over the tall mountains in the distance.

So. It was him, Almond and the vast Continent once more.

“We’ll manage, won’t we, girl?” he whispered. “We always do.”

“Are you talking to… your horse?”

Tristan turned around at the sound of Dorian’s voice. The mage was leaning against the door of the stables, watching him. A soft smile spread on his features, interest flashing in his sterling grey eyes.

“I spend a lot of time on the road by myself,” Tristan replied. “One develops certain habits when they’re alone for so long.”

Dorian chuckled softly, pushing himself off the door. He sauntered towards him, hips swaying ever so slightly. “My initial assessment of you was correct, it seems. You are sentimental.”

“So was mine,” Tristan retorted. “You are mouthy.”

“Was that really your initial assessment of me?”

They gazed at each other for a long moment before Dorian’s lips widened in a smile. Tristan let out a low, throaty laugh, letting his arms fall to his sides when Dorian took a step closer to him.

“So,” he said quietly, “this is it, isn’t it?”

Tristan's stomach tightened uneasily. Dorian's scent was hypnotizing, his lips so close to his, his eyes glittering, drawing him in. The light of the golden setting sun reflecting on his features, making him look as if he were aglow. Tristan ran his tongue over his bottom lip, suddenly overwhelmed with the urge to take him into his arms, pull him down atop the hay and make love to him until the sun rose again. “I believe it is.”

Dorian’s finger trailed down his arm, sending shivers through him everywhere it touched. He leaned closer, brushing his lips against his. Tristan closed his eyes, tasting the spices on his tongue, drawing on his focus to discern every detail, every hidden undertone, etching the memory firmly in his mind. They kissed gently for a long moment, light touches that made Tristan’s skin prickle.

“Drop by sometime, will you?” he murmured against his lips, pushing a lock of hair behind Tristan’s ear.

“That is not up to me,” Tristan replied, a tinge of sorrow in his voice. “Witchers go where destiny takes them.”

Dorian brushed his nose over his. “You might be able to figure something out,” he whispered. “If that is what you want.”

Tristan leaned into his touch, helplessly drawn to him. He wanted to be close to him, as close as he could, for as long as he could. He reached out, fingers skimming his waist, itching to pull him into a tight embrace. With a soft sigh, Dorian took a step back. He held his gaze firmly, silver meeting slitted amber.

“So long, Tristan of Toussaint,” he said with a small bow of his head. He turned around, pausing to shoot him a glance over his shoulder. “Don’t be a stranger.”

Tristan stared after him, long after his form had disappeared around the stable doors. “So long,” he whispered to the swiftly approaching dusk.

[searingdestiny]

The Void stares back

So! I wrote a cross over between Undertale and Doctor/Gallifrey. I used Braxiatel and I used W.D Gaster from Undertale and the Void as a setting.  This is fan fiction of the highest degree and I own none of these characters.

I had fun writing this and I hope you have fun reading it! I apologize for grammar I am not the best at it but I do hope you like it! I had to add the wingdings in as tumblr does not have that font I apologize translations are at the bottom! 

The Void stares back

Braxiatel had been invited onto the space station that observed the Void as safely as was possible. He had heard about the station for quite some time and many had shown interest in it but currently no one wanted to go. The Void had its dangers and mysteries that others just did not want to interact with. Braxiatel on the other hand felt as if this was a perfect opportunity to see something no one else wanted to. Rarely did something this interesting pull at his curiosity but it did for some reason as he ventured forth towards, what to many, was considered the unknown.

The space station was very top of the line as Braxiatel made landing procedures he could see the hole they mentioned in the letter. It was a perfect sphere and had the uncanny valley affect of being a part of space but not. He could not describe it in words as he stared at what was supposed to be impossible simply floating there in space. His eyes needed to adjust to the unusual sight as it was difficult to look at it for too long. He was snapped out of his thought process by a young woman's voice. “Lord Braxiatel?” she asked in a sweet tone as he turned to see who was addressing him and he had to admit he did not expect this.

Addressing him was what could only be considered a ghost.

It was bipedal or had been at one point in its existence currently it was floating a few inches off the ground. Its skin was an eerie smokey colour and had transparency as Braxiatel could see the wall behind her. The outline was visible however details were lost such as facial features and a presence.  Up until that moment Braxiatel assumed he had been alone on his voyage but there were others like this one floating about. Difficult to tell where they came from or what exactly they were before becoming this if they even had a before. In regards to its gender he assumed female because its voice was so high pitched and sweet like a bell. He coughed awkwardly before dressing it “Yes I am Lord Braxiatel” he reassured them before he looked about “Have we boarded?” he asked casually. The specter gave of a faint hint of happiness which meant that they glowed a very soft white colour before speaking again in a whispering tone. “Yes we have sir! You are the first creature to arrive here that has physical presence. However do not worry we have catered to your every need! You will be fine so please do not worry” it reassured him as it floated towards the door. “You may feel pressure once you leave but you should acclimatize after a few moments. Also our presence is much higher here so there may be sensations of paranoia I assure you everyone here is very busy and has no time for such things” it answered his confused look.  

Braxiatel followed it “You never introduced yourself” he said calmly as he set foot on the station the sudden pressure caught him off guard. He gasped when a sudden feeling of being light headed struck him making him stumble. He could have sworn he heard something but it was not the one who was guiding him. The specter floated about panicked at first until it realized he was just getting accustomed to the area. “I am deeply sorry! I thought the zones would have been depressurized by now! Ah! There it is” it said as oxygen began pumping into the area “A slight delay that is all” it explained. “As for my name? We don’t usually communicate with one another on this station as everyone has their function and we are limited to it” it thought for a moment. “You may call me Lya if you wish and refer to me as female it will make things easier on you” she offered.

It took Braxiatel a few minutes to compose himself as his head was still pounding from the lack of oxygen and he simply nodded. Once he was able to balance himself physically and mentally he understood what she meant by presence. He immediately felt hundreds of eyes on him even thought there were none. The entire place lit up like a bonfire but instead it was psychic energy as if the place was home to an entire mind field. He frowned a little as he glanced at who he now was to call Lya beginning to understand a few things. “What exactly are you Lya? I have never even heard of a species I can only refer to as ghosts...well...aside from the Gelth but you are not that type of species” he added folding his arms in thought. “You have undead qualities but you are much more coherent and intelligent than a supposed dead being” he pondered.

Lya giggled a little as his assumptions before answering his questions “Lord Braxiatel we are not ghosts or specters” she offered. “We are those who have lived within distance of the Void and such have lived as this since we became” she answered. She then paused “We have never truly been living entities Lord Braxiatel...bits and pieces of the Void spill out and they become us...” it was hard to explain but she was trying. “We are called the vacant” she finally offered “those that have no presence but exist and think for themselves as if they were a living being...but we are essentially the conscious form of the Void in small fractions” she concluded.

Braxiatel had been listening and found this both terrifying but exciting as to have something given form from nothing? This was unnatural and yet her he was interacting with it as if it were a real person. He smiled “Thank you for explaining this to me Lya I appreciate it.” he replied kindly as they began to walk through the station. It was as she said there were hundreds of similar entities of all shapes and sizes just floating about and interacting with objects as if they were nothing. It constantly shook his sense of what was natural and unnatural as they kept interacting with things he assumed they could not. He noticed that a few would look in his direction but they would look right through him and as of right now Lya was the only one to seem to have any freedom? She interacted with them and they communicated with her in cryptic whispers. Their voices left a shiver up his spine each and every time they spoke. It was like someone had a freezing dagger which was slowly, gently and deliberately being pressed, tip first, against his bare skin or along his spine. Eventually after about an hour of walking and explanations they came to the observation room.

Lya slowed down to a halt in front of a black line painted on the floor as she turned to face him her presence turning a gentle black. “Lord Braxiatel...beyond this point you will be alone...” she said “If I were to cross this line I would be reabsorbed back into the Void” her tone was terrified. “I need you to understand that despite what the beings beyond might think, yourself included, there is some type of presence in the Void. We have come from it so there must be something in there creating us that is what we are researching here. To see if we are from other universe, if we are truly deceased or if we are something else entirely” her tone softened. “Will you please let us know what you see beyond that line we would really like to know” she begged him “We asked a Time Lord because you have such a high mental state that we felt the Void would not affect you as badly as other species” she explained.

Braxiatel raised his hand to stop her talking and simply smiled slowly “Naturally I will let you know exactly what I feel, see and hear when I return. I do appreciate your letter giving intricate explanations of why our species is perfect for this little adventure. You have never asked another species to do this as you feared they would die instantly. You go above and beyond with care and privacy that even I have no idea what coordinates we used” he replied impressed. “I want to do this as I have heard nothing about it. I am curious about the vastness and supposed emptiness of the void so I wish to witness it with my own eyes” he glanced beyond the black line something felt like it was drawing him in.

Lya watched him hopefully and nodded agreeing with him “Then...I shall leave you to your viewing Lord Braxiatel. I shall be close by in case you have need of me but I will not be able to help you beyond this point” she answered sheepishly. “There is no other living thing beyond this point as far as we can tell. Good luck Lord Braxiatel” she floated past him remaining a few feet away keeping a distance from the line.

Braxiatel readied himself as he stood before the black line knowing he was inches away from the abyss of the Void. He took a deep breathe and stepped forward which felt like an eternity to happen. When he finally felt as if he had taken a proper step he looked ahead of himself and felt all the warmth leave his body.  This observation are was clearly built before they ever placed this ship into the void as it was just like the rest of the ship. It had chairs, tables and a large domed window that took up the front, he assumed, of the ship itself. Through this window Braxiatel could see only darkness. Not just any darkness but pure and absolute darkness unlike anything he had ever seen as he smirked to himself. He wondered if this was how others saw his soul? As black as the Void? As he pondered these questions however he couldn’t help but feel the timelessness of the area. Being a time lord meant being in tune with the ebbs and flows of time and space. Despite standing on a psychical place this place had no physical presence. It was like standing in a deep ocean a feeling of endlessness and depth that had no understanding. As for time?

There was none.    

For the first time in his entire existence Braxiatel felt completely and utterly isolated and alone. No time and no space existed here. His body felt heavy but was weighed down by nothing as he began to move very slowly towards the window. A shroud of dread filled his hearts as the only sound he could hear were the ones he was making internally. He attempted to speak but nothing came and he was shocked he was able to breathe. However he realized there was oxygen being fed into this room it just was not noticeable. It still felt like he was trying to breathe on a roller coaster where the air was there but it was so thin it barely existed to him. He had to take careful and steady breathes as he moved cautiously. Once he was in a position where he was looking directly into inky blackness he relaxed a bit. He was becoming comfortable with the feeling of emptiness around him and in some regards it was rather soothing.

Until he heard it. A familiar sound. The one he heard when he exited his transportation vehicle. Only this time it was as clear as day.

Braxiatel immediately felt his hearts stop for a second as he heard these...words? This was strange as he was very much alone and no one else was here with him. However there was no mistaking it someone had just spoken to him and he did not know how to respond. In the Void as Braxiatel looked on he saw something. This was impossible and yet it was happening a white shape became visible right in front of where he was standing. He could barely make it out but it appeared to be a face? No. A mask? As it came closer it was more distinguishable despite being unrecognisable as the features appeared melted and scarred. It had eyes, one of which was practically closed and long cracks down to its mouth? He could only make out a face for the time being but as he watched it move inhumanly fast for a place with no time he began to feel panic rise. The face examined him meticulously and with something akin to fascination. Braxiatel felt like a statue under observation at a museum of art the way this thing looked at him. No. That wasn’t quite right as something about this thing gave of a presence of incredible intelligence. Braxiatel was not being viewed from an artistic stand point he was being observed from a scientific mindset.

As it spoke again Braxiatel noticed no lip movements despite it having a line where he assumed a mouth was. The he realized that something else had appeared and was now resting on the glass that was currently keeping him safe. Hands? Yes! They were hands but they were just bones and for whatever reason they had a hole in each where the palm should be. Braxiatel swallowed anxiously there was a power this creature was exerting and it was not pleasant. Braxiatel noticed this time that the hands were moving and despite the motionlessness of its owner these were very expressive. His eyes widened as he realized what it was doing. He was speaking in sign language using these hands to emote and talk. Braxiatel slowly backed away as this creature did not look friendly and the hands were making quite threatening gestures.

Braxitel only noticed now that he had gained some distance from the being that there was an odd distorted sound coming from it which he assumed was it trying to speak. However Braxiatel felt he needed to leave now as he made his way back to the line. He could see the other side, the safe place, the place he belonged. As he made it back he took one last glance only to see the creature inside the vehicle now looking at him and it felt like looking in a mirror. Something intelligent was there and also something misguided by its own selfishness. Braxiatel had meet his other selves before but nothing compared with this thing. It appeared to give a big cruel smile as it laughed and vanished without a trace. The last thing Braxiatel heard from it was:

Once it was gone and those last strange sounds rung in his ears reality came crashing down around him. He was back on the station coated in sweat and panting heavily as the oxygen was regulated correctly. His eyes were wide and his hearts were palpitating rapidly in his chest which made him wince he needed to slow down. He didn’t even notice Lya was there as he was focused on the here and now time flooding back to him and space returning to normal. He looked at her eyes filled with dread and fear “N-never...N-never again...” he said standing unsteadily “N-no more...Nothing...” he repeated swallowing saliva as he was thirsty. “Water” he begged simply as she guided him away from the line and to somewhere safe where he could recuperate.

[modounbubble]

Amanus vanilla fic

Just because I miss rainy days and I don’t want to study for the 3 upcoming quiz tomorrow what could go wrong. 1.5k vanilla, read with cautious cuz I never look back to check my grammar/word choice/plot hole

Like an eternity.

The abyss was quiet and peaceful. Not a sound or a single living being. Manus stared into the dark with his enormous glowing eyes, breaths slow and steady. He missed being asleep, he missed the times that he could simply reject reality by falling into a stage of unconscious. A shame that eyelids didn’t exist in his new form, all he could do was looking into the darkness and pretended that he’s slumbering in peace.

The loud footsteps mix with metal clatter sound broke his meditation. He reached for his catalyst and ready to put the next person out of their own misery.

“Father!”

He put his catalyst down.

“Father! Let us walked outside and have a taste of fresh air. It’s windy and the sky is clear today, we can, we can have a nice view-”

“Artorias, Artorias. I appreciate your thoughts, but my answer is the same as usual.”

The wolf knight smiled bitterly and shove his sword into the ground,“but Father, you are not staying here forever.” He paused when he was about to reach Manus’ hand. After he’s sure that Manus didn’t protest, he picked up the smaller hand of Manus and close it between his two hands. “Please?”

Manus shook his head and touched Artorias’ hand with his thumb,“I’m staying here forever. This is where I reborn, and it shall be where I die. I belonged to the Abyss and I shall stay as I shall.”

Artorias pouted, “Can we just, spend some time in a place that’s not always dark and rocky? You are Manus, Father of the Abyss; you don’t belong to the Abyss, the Abyss belong to you. Or you’ll be the son of the Abyss——anyways, you can always return whenever you wish, just a short walk won’t hurt your back, old man.” Artorias’ heart stopped a beat when all the eyes on Manus glared at him, but he managed to keep the Artorias brand of enthusiastic smile on his face. “I cleared all the scums roaming up above and disposed them down the cliff. Don’t you miss the starry night sky, soft soil with moss, sound of dew dropping into a puddle of water? Let’s go.” He encouragely pulled Manus’ hand, uring him to go.

“No.”

Artorias’ eyes fell, the lively aura faded into the darkness. His smile came back in the next second, “Fine then, I’ll go by myself again.” He took out the sword from the ground and jumped away from the deepest pit of the Chasm, leaving the dark beast alone once again. He traversed through the Abyss slowly, listening to his own heavy footsteps and armors clattering and pondered another way to ask his stubborn lover out.

When he heard the heavy foot steps that didn’t belong to him echoed in the Abyss, his eyes shimmered with joy. The humanity sprites floats out of the way as Manus marched towards where Artorias was; he offered his smaller hand to Artorias as the latter took it gladly. “You came after all.”

“Suppose I do miss the stars up above. Perhaps the sensation of nature, too.”

“Yes Father! Tonight is one of the best night of Oolacile, the chirping birds, the wind, the stars, especially the stars! Come, come with me!”

Manus couldn’t help but smiled. His precious child was the only thing in this desperate world that brought him joy. He barely remembered this kind of emotion but he sure was grateful when he experienced it again. He followed the knight, who seemed to going to transform into a happy puppy at any moment.

.

.

.

.

.

“Oh no.” Artorias looked at the clouded sky and the bloat heads roaming around the township screaming, brows frowned. “I, I swear I never meant to deceive you by any means Father, I cleared those fiends earlier today and the sky-”

“You were right, Artorias. It’s a beautiful night indeed, only a little windy.” Manus’ replied calmly as he slow walk to groups of bloat heads and smack them all down to the cliff, toss them into the distance like it’s child’s play. “I miss the woods, Artorias.” He added as he went back to take Artorias’ hand. The ball of anxious finally vanished from Artorias’ chest. Artorias kept looking at Manus as they slow walked in the old royal woods, wanting to know whether he liked the outside world, if he liked the soil, the wind, butterflies, chirping birds…

His train of thoughts was interrupted by a single raindrop. Two, three, and plenty of dews fell from the sky, slowly wetting his cape. He swallowed and sigh, he didn’t want to go back this early but he had no other choices. He turned to Manus, and suddenly he’s being pulled into an embrace. Manus gestured him to turn around and sit on his lap and curl up; he then covered Artorias’ entire body with his mutated hand. “You may spread my fingers if you want to witness.”

The raindrops soon turned into showers, and downpour. Artorias was perfectly sheltered by Manus’ hand; he could only feel small drops of rain water dripping from Manus’ chin to the back of his neck. Once again Artorias felt guilty that the night didn’t turned out to be as romantic as he described, now they’re both stuck at the edge of the woods. He feared that Manus would be unhappy about it and never got out of the Abyss ever again. Artorias enjoyed being close and protected by Manus like this, but he had to apologize first. “Father, I…” “Hush, child. Listen, the rain is getting heavier.”

The sound of wet leaves clashing with one another was getting more intense, a lightning shattered the sky and turned the whole universe into 1 second of whiteness. A storm assaulted the forest, snapped the branches off the trees and washed the soil off the ground. Strands of wet hair flew into Artorias eyes and mouth; the wolf knight brushed his messy hair out of the way and looked up to Manus——The dark beast stayed still and breathed slowly, seemed to enjoying the chaotic side of nature. A branch flew and stabbed right into one of the red eyes, but there was no reaction, nothing. He looked down to his knight, who’s looking up at him as he brushed his hair out of his face. Manus smiled gently as he helped Artorias to get his hair out of the way and, he couldn’t help but rubbed his head, making those dark curly strands into a mess again.

Heavy rain never last too long. Not this time, at least. The relentless pouring reduced to shower again; water, leave, flowers dropped gently on Manus’ horns and furs. And it reduced, and reduced, until the wind blew all the clouds away.

“Father are you alright?” “Child, look.”

Artorias looked up. The immense stars covered all over the night sky and adorn the air of Oolacile with their brilliant light. One shooting star flew towards the east and followed by another; their long tail of light formed two beautiful arc in this star puzzle of night sky. Manus spoke quietly, “Your lord once told me my eyes were as beautiful as the starry sky. I often looked up at night thinking about those words, wanting to know what it is that he saw in my eyes.”

“He’s my lord no more, Father.” Artorias corrected him, the little part of him started to afraid. Lord Gwyn’s betrayal directly contributed to Manus’ death and transformation; Artorias feared his initially good intention triggered Manus’ bad memories. But as if Manus didn’t heard him, the Dark Lord continued, “Now I am beholding the beautiful scenery in my life. And from now every time I look up at the night sky, all I can think of is you now...”

Upon hearing those words, Artorias’ face turned into a cherry; he sat still like a statue as Manus gently stroked his hair. “Th-thank you very much.” He stuttered, unable to think of other words to reply. “I, I am, I really appreciate that.”

Knowing that his poor child was embarrassed, Manus smirked and turned the wolf knight around, wanting to tease him further. “No, my dear Artorias. I shall be the grateful one to you. If it was not your invitation, I will never be able to see such wondrous night. You, dear Artorias, you make me feel alive.” He made sure all the red eyes focused on Artorias’ crimson face.

“It’s my pleasure Father.” Artorias looked away and laughed awkwardly, “I’ve never been told something so romantic ahahaha...I am very happy.”

Manus couldn’t hold back the urge anymore. He reached to Artorias’s face and pulled him into a passionate kiss. He breathed in Artorias’ breaths, savoured every taste of his young knight. After they pulled apart slightly, Artorias stared at Manus’ face a bit before grabbing the two little horns on each sides of his face and kiss him again.

The night was long and silent.

[nitewrighter]

Of Blades and Broomsticks Pt. VIII

Previous Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7

Witch AU on AO3

----

The door to the house of Junkenstein creaked open as the doctor walked in, running his fingers through his hair. “Two days,” he said to himself, “Two days---” he thumped the heels of his hands on his forehead, “Come on, think, Jameson, think!” He withdrew the small vial of the fiery, glowing liquid (he really wasn’t sure if you could still call it ‘blood’) from his coat and stared at it. He tossed the vial up and down in his palm. “It would bloody help if you explained one little bit of the things you can do to me. ‘It’s magic,’ this and ‘It’s not humors’ that.” He caught the vial in his palm and eyed it, then pressed it against his brow. “Think,” he said to himself again. “The blood of a woman who can...” he gave a glance to his latest creation, his wheel of lightning, “...conduct... lightning...” he said slowly. He paced around the wheel, glancing between it and the vial. “Perhaps if...yes---no--yes---but--yes--” his pacing quickened, “But she was a living thing,” he shoved several leafs of paper around on his table before stopping and wagging his finger and nodding to himself, “I’ll need a living thing to properly conduct that power...or... something living things are made of...”

His eyes flicked from the lightning wheel to a chalkboard that he had covered with a sheet. he walked over and yanked the sheet off, revealing a chalk sketch of something similar to the Vitruvian man.

...if the Vitruvian man was 7 feet tall and had a pig face.

Junkenstein lovingly ran a hand down the sketch. “I never thought I would get a chance to create you,” he whispered with all the tenderness of a lover, before giving a glance to the vial in his hand, “But now it seems I have no choice but to try.” 

—-

Genji held a green glowing amulet in his hand, and his eyes flicked to the gold bracelet on his wrist. She had stopped calling him. Was she dead already? Or had she simply given up hope?

“You are sure about this?” said Zenyatta.

Genji looped the amulet over his head. “I’m sure,” he said.

“As you don that amulet, you cannot be banished back to this realm, however another attempt at banishing you like the one that brought you here could destroy you,” said Zenyatta.

“So I’ll just avoid chalk circles,” said Genji, smiling.

Zenyatta gave Genji one of his steady looks.

“What?” said Genji.

“Regardless of her magic, this is a lot to risk over one mortal,” said Zenyatta.

Genji thumped his chest, “I am Genji, Demon of the North Wind,” he said with that same smile, “‘Daring’ just happens to be my specialty.”

“This goes past ‘daring’ and well into ‘inadvisable’ while edging significantly into ‘foolish,’” said Zenyatta.

“Are we really so afraid of mortals?” said Genji.

The tentacles hanging from Zenyatta’s face flicked and gnarled with some irritation. “I do not fear mortals,” said Zenyatta, “I will long outlive this earth and the star it circles. You, however, were a mortal once, and it’s clear at this point that mortals have the means to harm you, perhaps even kill you. Part of the reason I am coming with you is to see this power for myself. I fear magic is waning from your world, and the mortals are burning it out.”

Genji considered Zenyatta’s words, twisting the gold bracelet on his wrist tentatively as they walked through Zenyatta’s slimy dark tower with several green eyes hovering behind them. Finally they reached a hall that smelled more strongly of brine and rot than the rest of the tower, which was really saying something and Zenyatta walked to the far end of it, where two statues of beings similar to himself hovered on either side of what looked like a spongy section of the wall lined with... Genji thought they looked like something between barnacles and lichen. Zenyatta held his hand up against this section of the wall and it gave a little under the pressure of his hand. He pushed forward and it stretched and thinned. He gently floated aside for genji and motioned at the spongy section of the wall. “Push through,” He said simply.

Genji braced his own hands against the membrane and pushed forward, finding the wall stretching and thinning. Not feeling like stone at all but spongy, then rubbery, then thinning out to slimy tissue.

They passed through the membrane and found themselves in a dark hall full of hooded robed figures all chanting with their faces bowed toward the ground. Genji stumbled through first, peeling a bit of the wretched-smelling caul-like material off of his shoulder, when he glanced at the crowd. They fell dead silent. They had not seen someone pass through that veil in centuries. Then Zenyatta passed through and a gasp rippled through the crowd. 

Genji looked at the crowd, clad in robes of purple and black, some donning bright green amulets that seemed like a crude tribute to the green eyes that floated about Zenyatta. It smelled of death in this place, both fresh and old death. The sweet iron scent of fresh blood and a deeper, more ancient death-smell, of rot and yellowed bones. Genji’s eyes flicked to the stained glass windows which featured jagged nightmarish images of creatures with many eyes, many teeth, and hundreds crooked, curling tentacles wreaking untold madness and misery upon sad and twisted human figures. Genji glanced over at Zenyatta, who seemed equally confused by the dozens of robed figures.

“Uh… Master?” Genji started.

“This seems… familiar…” Zenyatta said thoughtfully.

“It’s him…!” one robed figure stumbled forward from the crowd and turned to the rest of the macabre congregation. “He has returned to reshape the world in his image as prophesied!”

“As prophesied!” the crowd echoed back in a roar.

“All hail the Master! Zenya’taa! Dread Dreamer! Messiah of Madness! Voice of the Void!”

“Voice of the Void!” the crowd echoed again.

Zenyatta snapped his tentacle-like fingers. “Oh now I remember.”

“Remember what?” Genji said warily as the crowd of robed figures seemed to close in around them, hushed murmurs rippling through the crowd.

Zenyatta cleared his throat and addressed the crowd. “It is I,” he said simply. This sent the crowd into a frenzy. They started chanting and wailing, leaping and dancing, it was all Genji could do to simply stick close to Zenyatta and not be buffeted by the flailing limbs of the robed congregation.

“I…may have been worshipped as a god last time I came to this plane,” said Zenyatta.

“May have!?” said Genji, looking at the robed figures, some of which were bowing prostrate, some railing and leaping and dancing, and some rolling around on the floor speaking in tongues in some mad faith-driven ecstasy.

“They built a few ziggurats to me, a few human sacrifices here and there…I was young and impetuous. I didn’t expect the religion to last this long since—-“

“Master! Master!” a cultist broke from the crowd, fell to his knees before Zenyatta and gripped at the hem of Zenyatta’s robe. “Tell me thy bidding, Master! I am but a humble worm in the face of your incomprehensible greatn—“

“A blasphemer has touched the master!”  another cultist shrieked and arms surged forth from the crowd and gripped the offender, yanking him into a storm of bodies. Genji saw the glint of several daggers rise above the crowd and his own hand instinctively went to the blade at his hip but Zenyatta put a hand in front of Genji and Genji stayed his blade. Genji watched as the offending cultist was dragged through the roiling sea of bodies, little more than a ripple moving through the crowd until he reached the center and stopped. Then the knives, held aloft in the hands of the mob of worshippers were brought down again and again, the blades surfacing from the crowd wet and red.

“…since they tend to do this a lot,” said Zenyatta, finally finishing his thought and gesturing at the crowd of worshippers now reveling in the blood of the blasphemer sacrificed in the name of their Master. Somehow the sight of a man destroyed by a raving crowd made Genji think of Mercy again. His Witch. What horrible things were being done to her in the name of faith now?

“We need to get going,” said Genji.

“Master!” a cultist fell prostrate before Zenyatta, “We have waited for you for centuries! For millennia! We have made blood sacrifices to you in hopes of your return! Wherefore you take your leave of us so soon!?”

Zenyatta gave a wary glance to Genji. “I have pledged my help to a dear friend,” he said.

“Help?” one cultist piped up.

“What help?” said another.

“Does the master require our blades? Require our services?” another cultist emerged from the crowd, this one donning some circlet that seemed designed after the eerie green eyes that were always hovering about Zenyatta. She took a knee before Zenyatta and gestured at the crowd of cultists behind her. “We will fight and kill and die for you, O Abyssal One, name only whose blood we shall shed.”

Zenyatta gave a glance to Genji. “An army might be nice in liberating your witch,” he said.

“An army...” Genji repeated, and he looked at the cultists, “An army! Of course! Well--their training obviously seems lacking but in terms of a diversion---” he unthinkingly touched Zenyatta’s shoulder and a loud gasp rippled through the crowd.

“What?” said Genji, and his eyes trailed to his hand on Zenyatta’s shoulder, “...oh.” 

“Blasphemer!” A shriek came from the back and several cultists at the front raised their knives

“Kuso,” said Genji.

With a wave of his hand, Zenyatta opened up a swirling green portal. “Go. I’ll calm them down and meet with you later.”

Genji nodded and leapt through the portal.

—-

Mercy watched the smoldering embers of the torch Junkenstein had left beside her cell. Her mind fell to Genji again. It kept turning to him. To how afraid he looked as the light consumed him, the way his fingers trailed down that lock of her hair which now hung more irritatingly than flatteringly in her face, to his stupid cocky grins, to all his stupid bragging and how dearly and painfully she missed it. As mad as it sounded she missed his voice in her mind. 

“Witch Mercy, There is no one like you.”

She remembered breathing him in like smoke, feeling him inhabit her like lightning in her veins, giving her all of his strength but letting her keep all of her freedom. She shook her head. Lonely silly fool, she thought to herself. He was dead. Or damned. Or had abandoned her. Thinking of him now would only hurt more. 

She opened her palm and let a flame spin itself into existence there, tried to sustain it as long as she could, but then would feel it fizzle out.  Stupid. She was stupid. All this time she thought she was so clever and yet here se was, waiting to be burned like a fool. She bowed her forehead against her knees.

“You aren’t going to get anywhere holding back like that,” she heard a voice and flinched, looking around the dungeon, but there was only the smoldering torch.

“I’m going mad now,” she murmured to herself before curling into herself once more.

“Madness? Madness? Do you think I would let the last bearer of my flame succumb to madness? Pathetic.”

Mercy flinched and sat up again and her brow furrowed. No one else called it a flame. If the guards had seen her spinning fire into existence in her palm, perhaps they would call it a flame. Perhaps they were playing a trick on her, but then again, she had made a point of never speaking of the cave where Gramercy passed the flame down to her.

“If there is someone here,” Mercy said slowly, “Come into the light.”

There was no response.

“Mad,” Mercy said again with a sigh, “I’m going mad...” She sighed. There was no natural light coming into the dungeon, except by the door, which was closed. She had no way of knowing what time it was. She knew she would burn in two days. There was no bed in her cell. Not even a pile of hay. Just a chamber pot that was little more than a bucket in the corner. Mercy did her best to curl up on the stone floor, knowing no part of it would soften for her. She cushioned her head on her hands, her own shackles cold against her cheek. She slowed her breathing to try and bring the sleep faster.

Then a hand, blackened and smoldering with red-orange veins of embers shot up from the floor and clamped over her mouth, crackling and blistering against her skin. Several more hands shot up, two gripping her wrists as she moved to flinch away from the burning hand, several more wrapping themselves over her torso and legs, fingers sinking hot against her flesh. The hands were pulling her against the stone, which itself was gridded with ember-glow fissures, then there was a crack and a rush of sparks and she fell through the floor and into a burning place, the hands falling away from her and letting her drop. She landed with a thud on the ground and groaned. She got up and saw the flames all around her.

“Do you fear hell?” the Witch Hunter’s voice echoed in her mind, but she glanced down and saw her arm in one of the flames. She felt the warmth but not the burn. Her brow crinkled in some confusion. She turned her hand over, still in the flames and saw that it was the palm she had cut to give blood to Junkenstein. She watched as the line along her palm closed. Then something dark passed behind her hand and she glimpsed up and saw she was looking at a pair of legs, though there was definitely something off about them...notably the three clawed toes and the fact that the legs themselves were covered in scales. 

“Up,” said the same voice she had heard earlier. 

“What?” said Mercy.

“Get up,” the voice said more insistently and several of the same ember-hands from earlier rose out of the floor and the flames and hauled Mercy to her feet. Mercy’s breath caught in her throat as she found herself staring into a pair of fiery amber eyes. A woman. A dragon. Neither. Both. Ancient. Beautiful. Terrifying. Mercy remembered a painting in a cave on the night the old woman died. 

“Who are you? Where am i? What--what is this?” said Mercy.

“You know. Not out of prison. Divine intervention,” the woman replied calmly. 

“Divine--?” Mercy started confusedly.

“Did you take the words ‘forge of creation’ so lightly?” said the dragon woman, folding her arms. She snarled, exposing fangs and stepped around Mercy, still gripped by the several smoldering hands. One hand gave Mercy’s arm a squeeze. She huffed.

“Soft. Weak. Is this what my fire in the mortal realm has been reduced to?” she spoke, walking around Mercy. Mercy wasn’t sure if she was talking to her or to herself, “It was once borne by warrior kings, by magi with the blood of gods and demons in their veins, and now it has fizzled down to...” she stopped back in front of Mercy, “...you.” She sighed. “I suppose it can’t be helped. No one appreciates the old gods any more...”

“I-I don’t understand--The witch hunter had to have covered the outside of my prison with sigils--lined it with salt---You shouldn’t---”

The amber eyes of the dragon woman flared. “For your own good I suggest you never speak of me like I am some petty imp to be dispelled by apotropaic frippery again. I predate your witch hunter’s religion. I was born when this universe burst forth in flame and creation. I helped shape this world. No salt and no sigils can contain me.” She put two fingers to Mercy’s chest, “You have no idea of the boon that has been gifted you.” 

“I could tell you that much,” Mercy muttered a bit bitterly, glancing down.

The dragon woman brought her hand up to the level of Mercy’s eyes and snapped her fingers, causing Mercy to flinch back slightly, and a fire alighted on the tip of her finger. Dark marks appeared over each of Mercy’s eyebrows at the presence of the flame.

“So it still burns within you,” said the dragon woman. She closed her fingertips together and the flame shrank into nothingness and the dark marks disappeared from Mercy’s forehead, “...but you still can’t seem to call it forward.”

“Yes well, the person who gave me this power died immediately after so she didn’t exactly have the chance to tell me what to do with it,” said Mercy, frowning.

The dragon woman snickered a little. “Does fire think? Does fire need lessons on how to burn? Fire lives. Fire breathes. Fire consumes. Creates. Destroys. You didn’t need lessons to breathe. Fire has but two choices: burn or die. Which will you choose?”

The arms gripping mercy crumbled away into sparks and embers, and suddenly large chunks of the fiery realm seemed to be collapsing, like a long-burning log falling apart. 

“Wait--!” Mercy called out as the burning place collapsed around her. The dragon woman herself was consumed in flames, closing her eyes. “No, this doesn’t help! You have to tell me how to--Please! You can’t leave now! You can’t---” 

Mercy’s eyes snapped open and she found herself in the cold stone floor of her cell. She couldn’t be sure how long she had slept. She sat up in her cell. “Burn or die...” she said to herself, then shook her head. “That’s ridiculous--I’ll be dying by burning...” she said, letting a flame spin itself into existence above her palm. She frowned and closed her hand into a fist, snuffing the flame out. “Lessons to breathe-- it’s the smoke that kills you first if you’re lucky...” She sighed in a huff.

Her breath left her in a plume of fire.

She slapped a hand over her own mouth and scrambled back against the wall of her cell, eyes wide in terror and awe.

[siren-dragon]

Light in the Darkness (Ardyn Izunia) Part 1

Hello everyone! ^_^

Now, I said in a recent post that I was deleting my fic Memento of the Past because I am re-writing it. Well, this is the first half of that fic, ta dah! 

Anyway, this was a request from a anon, who asked for Ardyn with a young daughter. So I took that prompt and merged it with Memento of the Past and created this fic. Plus, I feel a bit better about this one. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this fic anon and @kuro-megane :D

WARNING!: Brief scenes of violence and blood

Ardyn twisted the champagne flute he held between his fingers, swirling the bubbly beverage within its glass container. Across the large ballroom stood Niflheim’s elite who laughed and toasted to their great nation’s victory. For indeed; the battle against the Glacian was hard fought, though eventually the goddess had fallen. Now that frozen tundra was naught but an enormous tomb for the icy witch.

And with the impressive results the Magitek had provided, Ardyn had these pitiful mortals right where he wanted them. They listened to his honeyed words so easily, and bent to his designs like the good little hounds they were. Ah yes, everything was working out perfectly….

“And there is the man of the hour himself. Congratulations on the new post, Chancellor.” Verstael spoke, the blonde man coming to a halt next to Ardyn.

“You are too kind, my friend. And what’s this? So, you’ve finally taken my advice and exchanged that appalling armor for something more…flattering.”

Verstael glared at the magenta-haired man, a rather absurd action due to the Chancellor’s superior height. “At least my armor is comfortable; instead of this blasted ensemble.”

Ardyn chuckled, “I am sure the Emperor will honor you for your selfless sacrifice!”

“Your wit never ceases to entertain, Izunia.” Verstael drawled irritably.

“I live to serve.” Ardyn grinned mockingly, even tipping his hat to the blonde scientist. “And if you will excuse me, I shall take my leave.”

Spinning on his heel, Ardyn turned away from his dear associate and proceeded out of the ballroom; ignoring the various nobles trying to mingle with the new Chancellor.

Exiting the Imperial Palace Ardyn continued to walk down the streets of Gralea, deciding to enjoy a simple stroll instead of warping discreetly back to his current place of residence. Much of Niflheim’s militaristic lifestyle was reflected within the city’s steel and concrete architecture; a far cry from his dear old homeland. Slowly he walked across the empty cross-walks, humming merrily to himself before falling silent at the touch of cold steel against his back and the sound of movement in front of him.

“Hand over your gil, and don’t try anything funny!” The thief shouted while two more thieves appeared from the shadows.

Ardyn smiled cheekily at his captor, hands raised in a innocent manner. “Oh? Is that a dagger in your hand or are you simply happy to see me?”

“Shut the hell up and hand over your money!” one of the thieves exclaimed, raising his own dagger.

“Gentlemen, as entertaining as this experience has been, I am rather busy. If you will excuse me- I shall bid you all farewell.”

The thief behind him bristled angrily at Ardyn’s playful tone and immediately raised the dagger in his hand to strike the Chancellor down. Quickly Ardyn spun about and twisted the thief’s wrist, immediately catching the released dagger and dragging it across the boy’s throat. The boy collapsed to the floor, choking on his own blood while his friend roared in anger and charged at Ardyn; his own dagger raised dangerously high. The ancient king simply side-stepped the clumsy assault, giving his attacker a mocking grin that simply enraged him further.

A gunshot then sounded, missing Ardyn by mere inches. He glanced to his attire and his eyes widened in horror as he stared at the large hole that now sat within the fabric of his scarf.

“Shoot him again!” His attacker yelled to his companion.

The gunman moved to take aim but only responded with a sickening gurgle as a dagger imbedded itself within his throat. He moved his hands toward his neck to stop the bleeding, raising his arms halfway before he fell to the ground in a puddle of blood. The final thief turned to face Ardyn, screaming at the sight of glowing golden eyes surrounded by an inky darkness. “Wh-What the hell are you?”

A cold smile pulled across the monster’s lips as a crimson sword materialized within his hands. “A man of no consequence.” He answered before swinging the blade down and removing the thief’s head from his shoulders.

When Ardyn appeared within his flat, it was late, cold, and his suit was covered in blood from his earlier encounter. Slowly he flicked the light switch on before walking to the sofa and retrieving the cloak that was folded within his jacket, gently placing the damaged cloth upon the low table. Removing his blood-stained coat and tossing it within the rubbish bin; as he refused to keep the now stained article of clothing, Ardyn collected a small box that sat atop a bookshelf and returned to the sofa. Opening the box revealed a simple sewing kit, containing needles, thread, an ancient pair of scissors, and a pin cushion in the shape of a Lucian tomato stuffed to capacity with multiple pins.

Withdrawing a needle and the spool of grey thread, the immortal king expertly looped the string through the needle’s eye before stitching the damaged cloak together once more.

“Seems another scar has been added,” murmured aloud to himself.

Once the hole was stitched together, Ardyn tied off the thread and returned the needle and spool of thread to the box once more. He lifted the cloak to the light and admired the beautiful piece to check for any other unfortunate marks. He ran a hand across the elaborately stitched black sylleblossoms, the soft fabric brushing gently against his skin.

Here, this is for you. It’s special, so it will keep you safe!

Ardyn frowned as he felt the multiple repair jobs he had stitched upon the ancient cloak but shook his head, and closed the box of sewing supplies and carrying the article of clothing to his bedroom.

It even has those flowers you like! Slyblos….Sylepow…Syfpossums!

He placed the cloak upon his dresser before readying himself for sleep; not like it would come though.

You’ll come back, soon right? Then we can go and see the flowers together! It’s a promise!

Slowly he laid down upon his bed, staring up at his ceiling as sleep began to claim his senses. At long last his eyes closed and Ardyn fell into the abyss of unconsciousness, where the shadows always came to play.

....Together….right Papa?…

The Crown City of Insomnia; Lucis

The wind slowly blew through the open balcony doors, gently ruffling the sheer floor-length drapes of the elegant bedroom. Quietly the door creaked open, allowing a small shadow to sneak inside before the door shut once more. The shadow glanced about the large bedroom, immediately focusing on the enormous bed that stood in the middle of the bedroom. Beneath the large duvet that sat upon the massive bed lay a sleeping figure, a tuft of raspberry hair peeking out at the top.

Calmly and quietly the shadow moved closer, hands outstretched as a grin appeared on their face. Yet as soon as they only a few inches away from their target, a hand snatched their rest and pulled. The shadow squeaked in surprise before falling onto the bed, laughing hysterically as hands begun to tickle their sides.

“You will have to do better than that, love,” Ardyn chuckled, ceasing his merciless tickling of his young daughter.

The 4 (and a half, as she always corrected) year old child smiled, her face flushed; “but I was so close! How do you always know it’s me?”

“Ah ah ah, that’s my secret.~” Ardyn grinned, kissing her forehead; “now then, may I ask why you are awake at this hour?”

The young princess beamed, thick dark-magenta hair pooling across the sheets of the bed, “Papa, don’t you know what today is? Did you forget?”

“Hmm…I believe it is Tuesday.”

She giggled, mischief sparkling within the depths of her (e/c) eyes. “It’s not just Tuesday Papa.”

“Oh? Then I’m afraid I am at a loss, my little moogle.”

“Today is your birthday Papa!”

Ardyn blinked in surprise, having forgotten all about the day. With the preparations for his…departure, he had all but forgotten the arrival of his birthday. But his little girl spoke the truth, it was indeed his birthday.

“You did forget, didn’t you?” (f/n) frowned before a smile lite up her face. “Good thing I didn’t! Come on Papa, we’ve got lots to do today!”

“Well then, it is imperative that we are not late!” Ardyn replied, hoisting the younger royal upon his shoulder, causing her to laugh in delight.

 He smiled happily as his young daughter dragged him through the corridors of the Citadel and toward the gardens. Apparently, with the help of Gilgamesh, his little girl managed to clear the meetings of that day to free his own schedule. It was no surprise to be honest; as (f/n) could cause even the strongest of men to tremble at the sight of her tearful “puppy-dog” eyes. Yet he was at least happy to spend his final day within Insomnia with his sweet, little girl, and not locked away in the throne room burdened by final preparations. It made the burden of leaving his dear (f/n) a little easier and lessened the guilt….

“Come Papa, we’re almost there!” she cried excitedly, gesturing to the gardens. 

“Is that so? Well then…last one there is a smelly Malboro!” He exclaimed, dashing off in an instant.

(f/n) gasped in surprise before following at his heels, “hey! You cheater!”

Ardyn laughed, purposely slowing his stride so that (f/n) remained just behind him. The entrance to the gardens was fast approaching, surely guaranteeing his win before a flash of blue light illuminated the hallway. Ardyn turned about to search for the source, only to see his daughter warping toward him. Immediately the King’s arms shot outward, catching (f/n) before she hit the floor and collapsing onto the soft grass of the Royal Gardens.

“I win!” she cheered, sitting comfortably upon his chest.

“So, it seems,” Ardyn smiled, lifting her off his chest. “And what will the young lady like for her prize?”

(f/n) paused, biting her lip slightly before glancing to the floor. It was a look Ardyn knew well, for he himself did the same action when wishing to hide something. Instead she simply smiled, “I will tell you later, Papa.”

Ardyn raised a curious eyebrow, wondering what she could be hiding, but decided to let it go…for now. “Very well then, my dear. Shall we continue with the birthday celebration?”

“Yes!” (f/n) replied, taking hold of his hand and guiding him toward a small picnic which was set beneath a cherry blossom tree, near the small water pond. “It’s a birthday picnic! Do….Do you like it?”

“I love it. Thank you, my little moogle.”

 Ardyn slowly walked toward his daughter’s bedroom, the young princess leaning against his chest in content. The sun had already set below the horizon as the moon begun to take its place alongside the stars. Reaching the Royal Wing, Ardyn opened the door and walked toward the bed, placing his precious cargo down upon the duvet.

“Wait Papa, I didn’t give you your birthday gift.” (f/n) spoke, leaving the bed and claiming the box that sat upon the small vanity.

“(f/n), your company is more than enough of a gift.”

“Please Papa, please open it.” She pouted, eyes starting to water as the “puppy-dog” eyes began to reveal themselves.

“Alright, my dear.” Ardyn chuckled, taking hold of the box and untying the dark blue ribbon that was wrapped around it. Lifting the lid off he peered within and pulled out the item within. A beautiful cloak, soft to the touch; made of grey and black fabric with black sylleblossoms stitched into the material. Ardyn let his hand slowly slide across the mantle, admiring its craftsmanship.

“Do you like it? It even has those flowers you like. Slyblos….Sylepow….Syfpossums!”

”Sylleblossoms,” He corrected, tying the cloak about his shoulders. “Oh (f/n), this is beautiful….”

(f/n) beamed happily, “It will keep you safe….” She replied before yawning loudly, rubbing her eyes. “Papa…can I tell you what I want my prize to be?”

“Of course,” Ardyn spoke.

“….Don’t leave.”

He frowned, gazing sadly down at his tired daughter, knowing what it was she spoke of. Sitting upon the bed, he pulled her into his arms and embraced her tightly. “I know you don’t wish for me to leave, but I am afraid I must. This is a job only Papa can do to help our people.”

“I will miss you….”

“And I you. But how about I make you a promise. When I return, we will go to Tenebrae together and I will show you the sylleblossoms. Would you like that?”

“Uh huh! So…you will come back soon, right? Then we can go see the flowers together?”

Ardyn nodded, giving her a small smile; “it’s a promise.”

Yawning loudly once more, (f/n) slowly sunk into the pillows, eyes beginning to close. “Papa, can you…sing Mama’s song? Just…just for tonight….”

“Of course, my dear.” Ardyn answered, humming the lullaby’s melody before singing the words.

Deus dormit

Et liberi ignem faciunt

Numquam extinguunt

Ne expergisci possit

 Omnia dividt

Tragoedia coram

Amandum que

Et nocte perpetua

In desperatione

Auroram videre potest

Mane tempus expergiscendi

 Ardyn glanced down to see (f/n) eyes closed, her breathing calm and even as she slept peacefully. He smiled softly and leaned down, placing a gentle kiss upon her cheek and tucking back a strange of her magenta-hair. “Sleep well, my little moogle.”

[pamphletstoinspire]

Padre Pio and Emilia Sanguinetti

Story with Images:

https://www.linkedin.com/pulse/padre-pio-emilia-sanguinet-harold-baines/?published=t

Emilia (Spillmann) Sanguinetti and Guglielmo Sanguinetti

Emilia chose to live in humility and self efficacy commitment to her husband "the doctor"

***

Padre Pio and Emilia Sanguinetti (Caption for image on linked page)

by Marianna Iafelice

"Today 13 July 1975, I Emilia Sanguinetti Spillmann, in the full possession of my faculties and forever grateful to the Capuchin Friars of San Giovanni Rotondo for taking care of the burial of my husband, request that my mortal remains be placed to rest here in San Giovanni Rotondo in the grave plot purchased by me beside my beloved husband Guglielmo. I desire that my funeral be held in the church of San Giovanni Rotondo."

This was the last testament of Emilia Spillmann Sanguinetti, or "Mi" as she was nicknamed by friends, and who would leave this world on 2 July 1977 silently, with the same self-effacing humility that characterize her whole life.

Emilia was a good-looking woman, from a well-to-do family and with a strong character, nevertheless she chose to live in the shadow, and because of this quality and her commitment to her husband, "the doctor" and Padre Pio's Apostolic Work, she struck everyone as an angel of goodness.

Emilia came to San Giovanni Rotondo for the first time in 1934, but she had learnt of Padre Pio much earlier. She had read an article on the Friar in the home of her in-laws during the first years of her marriage and had been captivated by him.

However, she left it at that. Then different events brought her closer to him. A friend and relation of Pope Pius XII, the Marquis Gerini Pacelli, came back from a visit to San Giovanni Rotondo and brought her greetings from Padre Pio. On another occasion, Emilia requested a patient of her husband, a farmer, who was going down to the Padre to ask him to pray for an increase of faith for herself and especially for her husband who was then critical of the Church.

Another person who helped in her coming closer to Padre Pio was a spiritual daughter of the Padre, Elena Bandini, who lived in the Mugello region in Northern Tuscany like the Sanguinetti's and who in 1937 would move down to live permanently in San Giovanni Rotondo. Suffering from poor health Elena Bandini would be visited by Dr. Sanguinetti, and whenever he went to her home, he would be confronted with a large photograph of Padre Pio in her bedroom.

This image had a disturbing effect on him and would often be the cause of heated arguments with his wife, who instead was finding herself "drawn to religion always more," and "reading books on religion and Sacred Scripture." "It was as if there was a new light within me," she would recount. "And I would talk with my husband about these things and he would listen to me quite interested which also surprised me."

And then before Christmas one year, Emilia felt the strong desire to go to confession. She asked her husband to accompany her to a priest, Msgr. Arturo Bonardi at Borgo San Lorenzo. And while there she would recall, "as I was making my thanksgiving, I heard someone close to me crying and I realized that it was my husband. I asked him what was the matter and he answered me that he suddenly felt as if a great abyss had opened up between us separating us forever. After many years away from the Church, he made up his mind to go to confession and receive Communion. It was a very beautiful Christmas for us."

Their first visit to Padre Pio was a birthday present from the doctor to his wife. In later years she would recount how this came about. "Every year my husband would give me a present for my birthday, but that year I asked him if instead he could take me to San Giovanni Rotondo. He was somewhat skeptical about the Padre and so answered: 'Yes, I will take you, but only as your driver; as I would not like you to be on your own should you discover him to be a person who is deranged or an epileptic.'"

Towards the end of the month of May, along with Elena Bandini, Dr. Sanguinetti and his wife Emilia, drove down to San Giovanni Rotondo in their Fiat Balilla to meet Padre Pio. It was around 8:00 PM when they arrived and the doctor not knowing the cloistral regulations of the friary, knocked at the main door, while Emilia waited in the car. A lay brother came to answer the door and began to severely tell the doctor: "How rude can you be to come knocking at this hour! We are closed now!" When the doctor got back into the car he simply said to his wife: "Well that's a fine beginning! I have just been told that I am very rude!"

They both saw the Padre for the first time the following morning in the church during holy Mass and when Emilia asked her husband: "What do you think?" He said gently to her: "He's a man of God." The doctor was so struck by him on this visit that they stayed for several days longer than they planned to be close to Padre Pio. Later on Emilia stated that they had put up with all kinds of hardships during this visit.

During one of her first confessions to Padre Pio, Emilia was unable to hold herself back from exclaiming, "Padre how beautiful it is to live here close to you!" He answered her, "Well why not remain always!" to which she said, "I can't because of my husband's work!" Then the Padre in a quite commanding tone, answered her, "Send him away, and remain always here!" She was so taken back by this answer that she was at a loss to what to do and when she asked him, "But how am I to tell him?" Padre Pio went on to explain, "But what have you understood. I don't separate anyone, you must leave and then return together."

A few months later the Sanguinetti's returned to San Giovanni Rotondo and Padre Pio said to the doctor: "We must build three tabernacles, three tents: one for Jesus, one for you and one for me! How beautiful that would be! You must remain here forever!"

Emilia recalled that during one of these encounters that Padre Pio had asked her husband to stay and work for him: "Doctor, I need your help. I have to build a hospital here and you shall be my doctor." But her husband, not being from the place and already with a job, answer: "Padre, no. It's impossible, because even if I left my job and came to work here I would be unable to practice my profession in San Giovanni Rotondo, because I would be taken the patients of the other doctors." The Padre responded at once: "And yet I tell you that you will come here, and you will help me with this construction."

Sometime later, Emilia would often recall their final journey down to San Giovanni Rotondo after Padre Pio had convinced them to work for him. The removal van was unable to bring all their antique furniture and so some had to be left behind. When they stopped along the way to refuel at a petrol station they discovered that some of the woolen mattresses had been stolen. But nothing could make them lose heart as they knew that they had made the right decision. Guglielmo and Emilia remained always convinced of this. They had been united in this way ever since they had first met during their school years in Rome, and they would remain so until that dawn of 6 September 1954, when the Lord would unexpectedly call to Himself the doctor.

How did Emilia take the loss of a husband. After a few weeks of what Emilia described as "very great sadness," she returned to work and dedicated the rest of her life to her husband's work on behalf of Padre Pio.

Her noble, unassuming nature, her dignified beauty that was never showy nor vulgar was greatly admired. Emilia could be described as a modern woman, if by being modern one does not mean a shallow emancipation but rather that capacity to stay at the side of a man with an important position as an equal and without rivalry.

Even though not seen in the front rows at the important official occasions with her husband, she was always close to him, especially during the many inevitable times of trial. She was modern even in the way she dressed. She never felt obliged to follow the fashion trends of the day, yet, she was never inelegant. A woman of simplicity and refinement with a fervent faith, despite the fact she was unable to have children, Emilia never became bitter but grew daily in perfection. She was always able to go forward in life even when, just as those children that never came, her husband was taken from her. She could is spent her remaining years in mourning as what expected of widows by society in those years. Instead she rolled up her sleeves and got down to work, doing what she could to continue her husband's work.

The facts of Emilia and Guglielmo Sanguinetti's life have recently been falsified in a popular book by the Italian author Enrico Malatesta "Padre Pio il Santo delle Stigmate" (Padre Pio the Saint with the Stigmata). One can only be saddened by these errors that have now spread. The inaccuracies of this author go even to the point of mistaking Emilia for the "daughter" of Sanguinetti. He erroneously describes Dr. Sanguinetti as the first director of the Hospital for the Relief of Suffering, and even suggests that he may not have saved his soul. He writes: "Padre Pio was not an infallible 'saint.' The daughter of Dr. Guglielmo Sanguinetti, the first director of the Home for the Relief of Suffering, went to the friar to ask for a grace for her father who was dying. She dreamt of Padre Pio who was knocking at a door that would not open until blood ran from the knuckles of his hands. When Dr. Sanguinetti died, Padre Pio told his daughter that he had knocked at great length on the door of heaven for her father but that the door had not been opened."

How any serious writer can be so inaccurate is beyond comprehension! But we will leave it at that as otherwise we risk going against all that the Sanguinetti's taught us by their lives.

Out of respect to them we wish just to share with you a few lines from the friary chronicles dated 7 September 1954, the day after the death of Dr. Sanguinetti. In my opinion these important words are enough: "The day after Dr. Sanguinetti's death a spiritual child asked the Padre: 'Can we at least be sure of his eternal salvation?' And he was given the answer: 'Well if he did not save his soul then there would be little hope for anyone!'"

Someone has certainly got the facts wrong. It certainly was not Padre Pio!

Padre Pio celebrated Mass and made a speech on the day of the grand opening of the hospital on May 5, 1956. (Caption for image on linked page).

From the minute of the first meeting: "It is agreed that everything undertaken must be subject to Padre Pio's advice."  Padre Pio refused to consider a bank loan. (Caption for image on linked page)

Home For The Relief Of The Sick And Suffering (Caption for image on linked page)

Padre Pio:"Nothing is too good or too beautiful for the sick and suffering."

[siren-dragon]

Long Live the King - (Ardyn Izunia x Reader) Ch.5

Hey everyone! I hope you are all excited for the next chapter! ^_^ As always, I am grateful to everyone who has read/liked/reblogged this story. And you can all check out fan art for this story at @chibi-jing,  who is amazing! Anyway, lets get this started!

“Hello, my sweet nymph.”

You stared at Ardyn in silent awe; your mind a hailstorm of thoughts and emotions at the sight of your husband. It was him…it truly was him! Emotions long buried began to rise to the surface and tears began to cloud your vision.

“I don’t doubt you have questions.”

“I- yes but…I don’t know where to begin. How are you here? Alive? I thought…Izunia...”

Ardyn chuckled, “my dear brother refused to sully his hands in such a manner and had me imprisoned on Angelgard instead. A shame, as I would not have been so generous.”

You frowned briefly at his cold words, but smiled nonetheless. “I am glad you are safe, my King.”

“Ah, you’ve no idea how long it has been since I’ve heard those words.” Ardyn smiled, cupping your cheek gently before wrapping his arms around you. “I have missed you so much, my Queen. Long have I wished to see you once more….”

“It’s alright, my love; I am here.” You whispered, burying yourself deeper into his embrace. The familiar scent of sandalwood making you smile as you clung to your beloved. Nothing else mattered; so long as you had Ardyn by your side, you knew that everything would be alright in the end….

“Yes…and those damned gods will regret taking you away.”

It felt as if an icy wind had swept through your entire being, causing you to look up at Ardyn in shock. “What are you talking about?”

“Those so called ‘Astrals’, who destroyed our family once our purpose was served,” Ardyn growled.

You let your hands fall to your sides as you slowly took a step back. “Why Ardyn? Why does that matter? I don’t understand….”

The look of sorrow that crossed his face broke your heart as he caressed your face. “Why? For years I’ve done nothing but what they desired, and for what? To be cast out as unclean and have all that I held dear taken from me. I am simply finishing what they started.”

Immediately you pulled away from Ardyn, your smile disappearing instantly. “Finishing? Ardyn…you invaded your own kingdom. Killed hundreds and manipulated people like pawns; people you once cared for with all your heart…. That is not the king I know.”

“Oh, my sweet (f/n), you still do not understand.” Ardyn smiled, the expression looking more sinister and twisted than kind and heartfelt. He gripped your arms tightly, causing you to wince in pain at the immense pressure. “I am doing this all for you, for the pain that you and our poor son suffered.”

“Ardyn…you’re hurting me….”

“I have lived with these horrors for too long.” He mumbled under his breath, no longer even hearing you. “For many years I pleaded for mercy, and instead they forsook me and stole all I loved. And now you have returned to me, my sweet nymph.”

You watched in horror as black sludge began spilling from Ardyn’s left eye, much like the nightmare you suffered from days ago, before it fell onto your cheeks. His veins, now black, became visible under his flesh as it spread like spider webs across his face. Quickly you pulled away, hands immediately unsheathing your bow, “Ardyn STOP!”

He froze, taking in your offensive stance and terrified face; now splattered with black stains. Ardyn rose a hand to his face and wiped away the sludge that was streaming down his cheeks like obsidian tears. A deep pang of guilt mentally slapped you across the face when you saw his hurt expression, causing you to lower your bow. But soon his hurt turned to rage as he glared down at you; his impressive height making you feel even smaller.

“So, this is how you truly feel.” He murmured, the words colder than ice and sharper than steel. “You side with those who took your own child away!”

“….What happened to you?...” you whispered trying to turn away until his hand snapped out and grabbed your wrist, causing you to yelp in pain.

“What is the matter, my dear? Does the darkness frighten you?...”

Without any thought, you tore your hand away and fled into the darkness, ignoring Ardyn’s calls to you. Blindly you ran through the shadows, tears falling from your eyes as adrenaline pumped through your body, pushing you onward. What had become of your beloved husband?

A loud groan echoed through the air, followed by a roar and the clink of metal. You skid to a halt as an Iron Giant appeared from the shadowy abyss that bubbled beneath its feet. Muttering a curse, you tried to sprint around the massive daemon, only for it to swing its inflamed sword. You ducked quickly with the blade missing you by mere inches. Scrambling to your feet once more, you took off again to flee from the monster, only to feel the distinct pull of magic.

Glancing backward you saw the Iron Giant swing its hand forward and glow crimson red as the gravity magic began pulling you toward it. You desperately tried to latch onto the grass, but it was all for not as you flew backward and had the daemon’s sword slam into you. Stars began dancing in your vision as you slammed against the ground, hearing a unsettling crack upon your landing. As your vision began to fade, you saw another figure dispatch the Iron Giant and the thumping of footsteps approaching you. Looking upward you saw the shadowy outline of your savior before the darkness consumed you…..

You slowly opened your eyes; shutting them immediately at the sudden glare of sunlight. Blinking a few times to gain your bearings, you looked around to see that you were within the Royal Gardens once more. Sitting upright, you glanced about the garden in confusion, wondering how you managed to return to Insomnia.

“This is your Haven, Forgotten Queen.”

Spinning around you saw a woman standing there. A familiar one of black hair and an equally black kimono; “Gentiana…” you spoke aloud. “What do you mean? What is this place? And where is Ardyn?”

“This place is simply an illusion, one that offers you comfort.” The Messenger answered, walking beside the lake. “Here, we may speak freely from the Accursed.”

“Accursed? Do you…mean Ardyn?” You asked, standing up. “Why do you call him that?”

Gentiana turned to face you, her eyes managing to pierce your very soul, despite them being closed. “For every light, there is a darkness. For the King of Kings, that darkness is the Immortal Accursed. And soon he shall purge our star of its scourge, and restore light unto the world.”

You stared in horror at the Messenger, her words filling you with dread. “What have you done to him?”

“A king’s duty is to their people, and your beloved had accepted his task with pride.”

“You lied to him! Cast him out and left him to linger on in this world, taking everything from him!”

A cold wind blew through the garden, causing you to shiver and fall to your knees. The temperature plummeted and frost began to cover your body as a blizzard swept through, changing the peaceful atmosphere. “Did you not respond similarly? Were you not abhorred by the monster he had become? Perhaps I was wrong about you, little nymph.”

“….you’re right.” You sighed, your breath coming out as plumes of smoke. “I was not brave, but scared. We had both changed from our trials, and instead of accepting him, I abandoned him like so many others. But…” you turned your gaze to the divine entity, eyes hard and determined, “I will not let him suffer alone any longer. You may see it as foolish, but I will stand beside him…. until the end.”

Immediately the world stopped, as if time itself had frozen under winter’s icy grasp. Slowly a smile spread across Gentiana’s lips, her eyes opening to show the warmth lingering in their dark depths. “Then go forth and show him the truth of your heart, little nymph….”

As you opened your eyes, the first thing you registered was the scent of medicine. Turning your head to the left and right you tried to get a view of your current whereabouts. Wherever you were, it was certainly not Lestallum, let alone the Leville Hotel. The room was made completely of steel, and was large with multiple beds of uniformed appearance lined up in two separate rows. Curtained screens stood between each bed to provide some semblance of privacy, with the ones around your own bed partially closed.

“You have returned.”

Turning to your left, you saw Ardyn sitting within a chair at your bedside, legs crossed and fedora placed upon his lap. His golden-amber eyes were colder than the Glacian’s cadaver and gazed at you without any emotion. It was as if a flame had been extinguished within him, leaving not a bit of warmth. A gaze you certainly deserved…

“Ardyn,” you spoke, relieved your voice was not rusty from disuse. “How long was I unconscious? And…what is this place?”

“This place happens to be the Infirmary of Aracheole Stronghold within the Region of Duscae. As for how long you were unconscious, that would be about 24 hours; give or take a few.”

“I’ve been gone an entire day?! Noctis and the others must be worried sick!”

Ardyn smirked, “there is no need for alarm; I am sure his Highness believes you to be unharmed.”

You frowned at his choice of words, but breathed a mental sigh of relief. Noctis and the others knew you were not one to be taken down easily; but if Ardyn had somehow informed them that you were safe, they would be less distracted in their mission. Glancing back at Ardyn you bit your lip, not quite sure what to say after the spectacle that you caused the previous evening. “Ardyn…. I-….Why did you safe me?”

He remained silent, his cold gaze still locked upon you. “You could call it a gesture of Imperial good will.”

“Ardyn, after what I did to you…I did not deserve such a gesture. What I did was cruel, and after the life you had I- “

“Who told you about that?” He snapped.

“….The Messenger, Gentiana….”

Ardyn stood up, turning his back to you, shoulders shaking with laughter. “Ah, of course! The icy witch sticks her nose where it doesn’t belong.” Ardyn laughed harshly, “And I suppose she told you what a horrid monster the ‘Accursed’ was. Impure of body and soul I believe are the words most often used.”

“Yes, she did,” you answered him. “And she is correct; you have changed Ardyn, as have I. We are not as we once were.”

“Then why do you remain?!” Ardyn snarled, spinning around to face you, “Run! Leave me, as they all did! There is nothing to stop you, so go!”

Golden eyes met (e/c) eyes as the two of you held each other’s gaze. Carefully you leaned forward and grasped his hands within your own, feeling the warmth of his skin and the smooth leather of his glove.

“Ardyn, for the past 12 years I have thought of nothing but you and our poor son. I wished to see you two more than anything in the world. And when I finally got that wish…I forsook it because I did not wish to see what you had become.” You let your fingers loop between his own, enjoying the contact; “Yes, we have changed, perhaps not for the better. But…I know that despite that, I still love you.”

He stared at your interlinking fingers as your words sunk in before looking to you once more, the look of anger replaced by one of sorrow. “(f/n)….I am not the man I once was.”

“Then I suppose I will just have to charm you once more,”

Ardyn chuckled, “seems I won’t stand a chance.”

And so it went; for the next few days as you rested Ardyn remained at your side, regaling you with tales of his existence. Some stories were sad, others humorous; but none of that truly mattered to you. What you loved most of all was knowing that even though so much had changed, you still found it easy to care for the silly man. And while he spoke of his time on Eos, you told him of your arrival at the Citadel and journey as a member of the Kingsglaive. He couldn’t help but marvel at the combat skills you acquired and feel a slight bang of gratitude to the late King Regis for taking you in, if only a little.

It was uncomfortable at first, but carefully you both peeled away each other’s armor plating and bore your scars to one another once again; slowly trust began to between you two, but not all at once. For every step forward one of you took, the other would take two steps backward. It was difficult; but it was at least progress.

Though the day soon came when your injuries had healed to a point where bedrest was no longer required, meaning it was time for you to return to Noctis’ side once more.

“The young prince is currently making his way toward the Vesperpool, where we shall await him. I’m quite certain your reunion will be a touching one.”

You laughed, “I’m sure those boys will have a lecture for me instead.”

“Not unlikely, so do prepare yourself.” Ardyn chuckled as he led you toward his automobile and holding the passenger door open. “After you, my dear.”

You blinked in surprise, “we are traveling by car?”

“How else are we to get there? And don’t worry, I am certain you will enjoy the ride (f/n).”

Looking to the vehicle, you could not help the grin that came to your face. The car was certainly Ardyn’s, that was for sure. Painted a magenta-red the exact shade of his own hair with a white racing stripe down the middle from bumper to bumper. Being a convertible the roof was down, allowing you a view of the dark leather upholstery of the interior. Along the side was a few stickers while a red moogle pom-pom was pinned atop the antenna. Over all it was a lovely car, if a little eccentric in appearance and advanced in age.

“This is quite the car,” you spoke as you slid into the passenger seat.

“I believe I will take that as a compliment.”

The car roared to life and Ardyn drove out of Aracheole Stronghold and onto the road, heading north-west to the Vesperpool. The drive was rather long, but you were both content to sit in silence and enjoy the scenery, with Ardyn humming merrily aloud. When the two of you finally arrived, you sat within the car for a few extra minutes after Ardyn cut the engine, thinking of the words you should say.

“……I will be in Altissia within the following days,” Ardyn spoke, turning to face you. “We can speak once more there.”

“Of course,” you nodded.

“I also wished to give this to you.” Ardyn continued, placing your old ocarina in your hands, “it belongs with you….”

Ardyn I- “you paused, before giving him a small smile. “I will see you again.”

“Until our next meeting, my sweet nymph.”

To say the boys lectured you was an understatement. Prompto had hugged you so fiercely, you were certain your ribs might have cracked again had Ignis not interfered. Curious as to what caused your injuries, you told them you were attacked by daemons (which was technically the case) when Ardyn saved you. Though they were suspicious of Ardyn’s so-called ‘heroic’ actions, they begrudgingly thanked the older man, who smirked smugly at them the entire time.

While waiting for the doors to the Steyliff Grove to open, the boys spoke to you of their encounters and the blessings that Noctis was to collect from the Astrals. You smiled at Prompto’s enthusiasm when he spoke of Ramuh blasting an Imperial base to pieces as well as their encounter with Ravus before heading toward Cape Caem. Noctis and Ignis did question you to be sure you were not troubled during your time in Imperial hands, which you answered with a truthful no. Unfortunately, due to your weak state, you had to wait outside while Commodore Aranea Highwind escorted the boys to the mythril, as you would be more of a hindrance than assistance.

When the boys returned, you told them Ardyn had already left while Aranea offered the four of you a ride back to Lestallum. You were certainly surprised to see the Disc of Cauthess missing the meteor, which was when Ignis spoke of the Empire slaying the gods like they did Shiva. It was surprising news; but you knew that with Ardyn at the helm, there was no stopping it, especially with that prophecy.

“By the way, where’s Gladio?” you asked on the flight back to Lestallum.

Prompto shrugged, “not sure. The big guy said he had something to take care of.”

“I just hope he’s okay…”

“He’ll be fine. You should really just enjoy the extra space while you can,” Noctis added.

You laughed, “no problem.”

Upon arrival, you were asked to help with an issue at the power plant; though this time Noctis travelled inside alone. When he returned at a few hours later with the ‘hunter’ you were not surprised to see it was Gladio behind the helmet. Though the King’s Shield did have some choice words for you about exploring at night and daemons before pulling you into a hug, glad for your return. With the mythril prepared and the five of you reunited, it was time to set sail for Altissia. If only you knew of the changes that were to come….

There we go, the end of chapter 5! I hope you all enjoyed it and I’ll be sure to post the next one soon. Sorry if it takes a while, as I am watching E3 conferences XD. Also send some love to @maty-yami, as this story was born from her fantastic prompt idea. Thanks guys and have a great week! ^_^