#the baron & the dove: what if

[lettalady]

What If: LJH Edition

Unexpected, My Heart

Think of the moment in The Baron & The Dove, the impromptu question Helmut asked that routed them to a chapel... what if that moment was interrupted?

   “I’ll see if I can find the priest.” 

     He doesn’t need look far. You watch Helmut begin to explain what it is that is being asked and wait, wondering if the lot of you will be asked to return another day when schedules might work better. 

     There’s an occasional glance your way and then nodding and a handshake. An agreement. From the look on Helmut’s face as he retraces his steps to rejoin you, he’s happy with the arrangement. “There’s a certificate to sign. He’ll marry us.” 

     You exhale a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, and feel the prickle of tears threatening to ruin the starry look you’re giving him. Helmut takes your hands loosely in his own and gives your fingers a light squeeze. 

     Yes. You hear the silent reminder paired with a question: Breathe. Ready?  

     Yes, Helmut. 

     Distant sounds of activity in the rooms beyond the chapel remind you that this is a moment squeezed into a busy schedule. There is not much time for this ceremony, but then the pair of you only need to exchange a few words and sign something. Quick enough. 

     Only – perhaps not quick enough. The commotion seems to be louder, or perhaps moving closer to the chapel. Certainly moving through the hallways and antechambers. The priest looks – confused and slightly annoyed. Either the next event has arrived earlier than expected, or the church is being beset by unexpected arrivals. 

[ find the rest of the story here ]

[jointherebellion215]

Flowers

Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x female!reader

Summary: You're living a perfectly content life on Geidi Prime with your husband. It's a shame your mind can't rest, sparked by glimpses of a life unknown. Loosely based on the song from Hadestown.

Word Count: 1.5k

TW: Dark!Feyd-Rautha, Dead Dove Do Not Eat, yandere!Feyd-Rautha, manipulation, gaslighting, like SO much gaslighting holy shit, descriptions of violence, abusive relationship, emotional abuse, isolation, tragedy, nonconsensual drug use, nonconsensual medical treatement, induced memory loss, amnesia, dubious consent, pregnancy, songfic, happy-but-not-really-happy ending, I know I said female!reader but there's virtually no pronoun usage or descriptive words in thisfor the reader besides titles so maybe GN!reader??

A/N: I'm blown away, almost 500 notes on His Kiss, the Riot? Holy shit, all of the thanks! Here it is, the final part! I'm ending it with the song that actually started this whole idea. Listening to Eva's interpretation of Eurydice singing Flowers gave me the most delicious, fucked-up bit of inspiration and this came out. I was clutching my own metaphorical pearls writing this cause damn, this gets dark. Like, way more than I thought I could write. Anyways, I hope you enjoy the end of this twisted tale. Thank you for reading! As always, I appreciate you taking the time to like, comment, and reblog.

Read Part One and Part Two

AO3

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the Dune properties, characters, or storylines-- nor do I own anything related to Hadestown. The images used in this are not my own, and any similarities to stories or events other than what are directly referenced are strictly coincidence.

Lily white and poppy red

I trembled when he laid me out

“You won’t feel a thing,” he said, “when you go down”

Nothing gonna wake you now

Drops of blood. 

A wicked, black smile.

“You won’t feel a thing.” 

You wake up with a gasp. Your doctor had warned you about dreams like this. They weren’t real, just an aftereffect of your accident.

The medical staff for House Harkonnen had been gracious enough to inform you of your predicament. When your family had recently hosted the Harkonnens, you quickly met and fell deeply in love with the na-Baron Feyd-Rautha. Your love for each other was so intense that you had demanded to get married right away. Your father disapproved of the union, so he disowned you and banished you, demanding to never see you again.

On the journey back to Geidi Prime, a stray asteroid hit the ship and caused you to hit your head. Feyd had apparently worried for your life, which saddened you and warmed your heart. It was nice to know that someone truly cared for you. However, your mind wasn’t quite the same afterwards. Your life before Geidi Prime was completely unknown to you. Your memories were in a fragile state.

That was just a few months earlier. Unfortunately, your mind has not yet recovered your memories prior to the accident. You were diligently taking a specially brewed tea that would calm your mind so it wouldn’t fracture under the immense pressure to try and fix itself. When you asked how long it would take for you to recover, your heart cracked when they said that it may take the rest of your natural life.

While it broke your heart to hear of your father’s dismissal of your feelings, you believed that you were strong enough to carry on. Having no further ties to your home world made it better to settle in with your new family.

You are a Harkonnen now.

Now, your footsteps make the quietest of echoes as you traipse down the narrow corridor. Heads of nearby servants and slaves bow, and eyes snap to the floor as you pass by. You feel the barest of sympathies, for not being allowed the simplest of human connection with their na-Baronness. But it was paradise considering the consequences should anyone ever feel bold enough to try otherwise.

Your husband wouldn’t allow that.

Dreams are sweet, until they’re not

Men are kind, until they aren’t

Flowers bloom, until they rot and fall apart

“Can I not have a single friend on this planet?!”

You burst into your shared chambers, rage rushing through your veins. All you had wanted was to have lunch and tea with one of the few female palace advisors you had taken a liking to. Maybe share a laugh or a story. Make a connection outside of your new family. That was all ruined when Feyd barged in and gutted your companion, stomach-to-throat, while she sat in her chair.

You were sure that your shoes had trailed blood down the hallway, but your mind was focused elsewhere at the moment.

“What use would you have for friends? I am right here.” He closed in on you, grasping your arms and forcing you to look in his direction. “Am I not enough for you? Do I not give you everything you should ever desire?”

His hands tighten around your wrists, making you flinch. A stray tear falls from your eyes, guilt starts to overcome your anger.

“No, not at all, husband! You have given me everything I could have wished for and more,” You wrench your hands out of his grip and grasp his face. He showered you with gifts, never let you go hungry or thirsty and this is how you repay him? “I just… I didn’t think you would want to hear me talk about certain things. I don’t mean to sound ungrateful.”

“I know you don’t, my darling.”

You take a deep breath as you feel the tension in the room start to settle.

“Your mind is already fragile from the accident… I just want to keep you safe.”

Safe. That was the key here. He takes step back and retrieves a small dagger from his belt.

Feyd holds it up, showing you the weapon. “Did you know that your friend had a blade dipped in poison strapped onto her person?”

You can feel the blood rushing from your face. No. You didn’t know.

“I-I didn’t see a knife on her. She couldn’t have-“

“She did.”

He drops the blade and leans in closer to you, forehead aligning with yours. “There are people out there who seek to harm you, who seek to harm me through you. I can never let that happen.”

You nod furiously. You couldn’t believe that you had been so stupid. 

Trust is unbelievably hard to come by in the Galactic Imperium. Your few months’ worth of memories can even attest to that. It seems that the only people you can truly rely on is family.

“I only want what’s best for you.”

You understand now.

Is anybody listening?

I open my mouth and nothing comes out

Another argument discussion had emerged from your telling of your latest dream. Your husband was convinced that you were entirely too exhausted to put any stock into what your subconscious was telling you, but you thought otherwise.

Fingers run through a patch of bright pinks, yellows, and blues—

“I swear to you, it felt so real! It was almost like a memory, like something I-,” A firm hand is placed on your shoulder as you give a slight stumble. Feyd puts a hand on your back, leading you to the edge of your bed, setting you on the bench that was placed against the footboard.

“Please, have some of your morning tea, my darling. You look a bit peaked.” You accepted the cup he gave you, settling down and taking a few sips of the warm, spiced drink. Your mind instantly calms, anxieties evaporating from your body like puffs of smoke. Never mind the memories that you had just… Floating.

Your husband is now on one knee in front of you, arms encasing your body, as his hands cup your face. He brings your eyes to meet his, seemingly searching. For what? You do not know.

“What were you saying about this dream of yours?” A pause reverberates throughout the room as your head tilts in confusion.

“My…?” You stutter, mouth opening to complete a thought that was no longer entirely there. “I can’t quite remember. What were we talking about?”

Your husband gives a smirk, analyzing your face once more before placing his hand on the dark fabric covering your swollen belly.

“Nothing of import. It seems that my heir is set on scrambling your thoughts.”

There seemed to be nothing in this world that brought more joy to Feyd-Rautha’s face than the sight of you and his unborn child. He’s more protective of you now than ever, having guards always posted near you, having you wear a shield during all public appearances. Not to mention, he was damn near insatiable in private. His hands and mouth are practically dragged away from you and your growing stomach every morning.

You give a chuckle. “I’d heard about pregnancy brain before, but never knew it to be this taxing! Perhaps I’ll take a walk later if I’m feeling up to it.”

Feyd gives your cheek a soft pat before rising to his feet, “Rest, my darling. I shall check in on the both of you later.” His hand rests next to yours, giving your belly a quick rub before he walks towards the door.

Your head goes to set on your pillow, the warmth from the tea running through your body. You must be really tired, since you fall asleep so quickly.

Quick enough to not hear the deadbolt lock clicking from the outside once the door is closed.

Flowers, I remember field of flowers

Soft beneath my heels

Walking in the sun, I remember someone

Someone by my side, turned his face to mine

The dreams start to encroach your mind while you are awake. You continue to follow your doctor’s instructions: take your daily tea, rest often, don’t overexert your body or your mind. But, ever persistent, they push through, finding parallels with your daily life to latch onto.

A hand, gently enlaced with yours, guides you through a meadow—

You husband’s hands lead you to stand with him by his uncle’s side, preparing for another ceremony.

A laugh, familiar and warm—

A chilling cackle of laughter reaches you in your viewing box, watching your husband gleefully slay another adversary in the arena.

Bright, yellow sunlight caressing your face and neck—

The black sun of Geidi Prime pulses in your periphery as you wave to a crowd below, your husband standing stoically next to you.

A kiss, given freely—

Feyd ravishes you in your chambers, lips melding together with yours.

My darling—

My love—

My darling—

My darling—

My darling—

My darling—

My darling—

“Is everything alright, my darling?”

You blink, snapping back to the present. Pale, smooth skin and blue eyes, your husband extends his hand towards you. Safe. He gives you everything. You and your child will never struggle or suffer with him. You are safe with him. Aren’t you?

Blood splatters over a patch of bright pinks, yellows, and blues—

You give a bright smile.

If you ever walk this way

Come and find me lying in the bed I made

[lettalady]

ㅤ

Baron Zemo / Colonel Helmut Zemo

ㅤ

I just like seeing my baby in action. :( Like I know he's supposed to be the criminal mastermind, but come on, he's a DEATH SQUAD COMMANDER.

I'll always be thankful for what TFATWS gave me.

[shegatsby]

Love Thy Enemy

Summary; Y/N Atreides had always been a stranger to the entire galaxy, her bed wasn’t her bed, her home wasn’t her home due to the fact that she was sent to accompany and be sisters with Irulan. She had limited access to her actual family and over the years they grew distant. She thought she would be like Reverend Mother, alone, yet powerful, and soon she would realize that there was no need of being alone when a wild creature had his eyes on her for a long time.

A/N; Hi my little doves, I've missed you, I'm in love with my work lol I really enjoy writing this series so don't forget to share your thoughts with me. Don't worry, there will be SMUT in the future chapters. Sorry for any typos English isn't my first language.

TAG LIST IS OPEN! (Text me if i forgot to tag you little doves 🕊️ ♥️)

Warnings; Violence. Angst. Enemies to lovers. Female Bene Gesserit Reader x Feyd-Rautha,reader is reffered to as she/her.

Words; 2.232K

Chapter Four- ‘’Misery Begins’’

Giedi Prime, House Harkonenn

The air felt heavy in her lungs, the planet was orbiting a black sun, thus, everything outside looked black and white, no wonder these people were raised like animals, planet’s harsh conditions shaped their characteristics. The second she stepped out of the ship she hated every single thing but kept a firm stance.

Now she was settling in the guest quarters, the wedding was to be in 7 days and thankfully Harkonnen traditions says that they, under any circumstance, cannot stay in the same room.

Y/N had few of her personal maids and the rest was Harkonnen servants, all dressed in black with bald heads and pale, thin figures. Y/N noticed the looks she got from them, an outsider…

Inside the fortress one could see colors yet Harkonenns choose to keep it simple, her chambers consisted of a bedroom,  a small living room, and bathroom. Without a word she moved to the velvet armchair which was facing outside, she didn’t want to engage in any conversation with anyone, ‘’Prepare my bath.’’ She ordered without looking at any of them and then moved to the desk in her bedroom to write a letter to her family saying that she landed on the planet safely and everything was fine of course she knew that every letter she would sent was going to be read by Feyd-Rautha’s most trusted politicians, maybe even by himself so she kept the letter short. ‘’Send this to my family.’’ She gave the metal, thin device which was the letter to a servant, ‘’Yes my Lady.’’

After her bath which consisted of warm water and bath oils she brought from home, she smelled fresh and felt better. She was on her desk reading when her door was knocked, ‘’Yes?’’

A servant girl entered, she looked sickly pale and thin, her eyes on the floor, her hands interlaced on her thin stomach, ‘’Na-Baron wishes to dine with you my Lady.’’ It wasn’t a wish, it was an order. ‘’The trip have made me exhausted, please tell Na-Baron that I desire to rest.’’

She noticed the girl’s change of body language, her eyes rose to look at her ladyship pleadingly.  Y/N kindly smiled at the girl, oblivious to what was going to happen, she dismissed the servant girl.

The black sun of Giedi Prime shone bright just like the day before, Y/N decided to do some reading, learn more about the planet’s ecosystem. She had a light breakfast, the air still stingy in her lungs, she didn’t have much appetite.

Y/N Atreides was on her desk, taking notes and reading and her door knocked, ‘’Come in.’’ she was focused on the old books, ‘’My Lady.’’

‘’Yes?’’ she turned to face a man, he was a guard in his dark uniform. ‘’Na-Baron has a gift for you. He insists that you should open it after I am dismissed.’’ A strange request but what wasn’t strange about him anyways?!

Y/N couldn’t read the guard’s expression, his face was a blank slate, however he look more pale than usual skin color, was he ill? ‘’Thank you, place the box on the floor and you may be dismissed.’’ He did what he was told. She stood up and approached to the metal box, there was a strong smell of iron coming from it, it appeared there was no lock, no writings. Just in case, she placed the portable force field on her hand, activated it and tested it, working just fine.

Her hand went to open the metal box and her first reaction was to scream in terror, and her second reaction was to run to her bathroom and throw up her breakfast, shaking uncontrollably, on her knees like a wild animal.

Y/N Atreides didn’t know how many minutes or decades she had spent in that position, finally one of her old maids came for her rescue. ‘’My Lady…’’ she was an old woman with white hair and motherly touch, ‘’It’s okay now..’’ she was rubbing Y/N’s back gently and whispering kind words.  ‘’Is it-‘’ she sobbed, ‘’is it gone?’’

‘’I took care of it my Lady.’’ She helped Y/N stand up and leave the bathroom. The metal box which had the servant girl’s head was gone and yet she could feel her eyes watching her every move. She threw the shield on her hand and marched out of her chambers. There was a solider guarding her chambers, ‘’Where is Na-Baron?’’ she asked trying to control her tone. ‘’He has a meeting with Baron Vladimir and Glossu Rabban.’’

‘’Take me to him.’’ She said, could feel the anger on her chest, so hefty. ‘’But my Lady-‘’

‘’Take me to him.’’ She used the voice on him, the guard, without a word started to guide her to the meeting room. The corridors of the fortress were mostly black, some grey and white here and there, there were guards on watch duties, servants cleaning or carrying stuff. It was so different than the environment she grew up in, in Caladan or Emperor’s planet was vivid and thriving, here it was just… lifeless. She cursed her fate.

There were two guards on the doors of the meeting room, ‘’Open.’’ She used the voice again and the doors were opened slowly, Baron Vladimir was sitting on a metal chair which was placed on marble steps, towering over Glossu Rabban and Feyd-Rautha who were standing and looking up at him, listening to him as if their lives depend on it.. well.. they weren’t wrong. Baron was surprised to see her. ‘’Lady Y/N!’’ he announced which made the boys look at her direction but she refused to look at them, her focus was on Baron. ‘’What a lovely surprise, I hope you quarters to your liking.’’ Y/N bowed in courtesy, ‘’Thank you my Baron, you are the most generous.’’ She had to control her anger and she was doing a good job, keeping things formal. She had to be respectful to the family otherwise her position let alone her life would be at stake, she remembered Feyd’s words; ‘’Try to humiliate me again and see what happens, little dove.’’ The room was barren with only a long marble table and chairs, the curtains were closed and white glowglobes lighting the room, no carpets, no ornaments. ‘’What do we owe the pleasure of your visit?’’ he asked, she could see he was trying to understand her moves. ‘’I must speak with Na-Baron. It is urgent.’’ Finally she turned to face him, even though he was standing far away she could see his body reacting to her words, he was alert and an animalistic shine on his eyes. ‘’Feyd, please escort your wife-to-be to a more secluded area and discuss.’’ His uncle said and Feyd bowed to him quickly, ‘’Yes uncle.’’ And then he turned to her, marching like a soldier, he held her arm and escorted her out of the room, his grip was tight, he made her follow him. Since there were guards and servants everywhere she didn’t dare to utter a word.

Y/N had no idea where they were going, the fortress was a maze and every corridor looked similar. They reached a door, Feyd dismissed the guards and opened the heavy black door. Quite frankly he threw her inside, before she got a chance to look around she spit her venom. ‘’What is wrong with you?!’’ Feyd looked puzzled, ‘’Did you really beheaded that girl just because I refused to dine with you?!’’ she could feel her whole body shake in anger, being in his presence disturbed her equilibrium. ‘’Oh, that.’’ He remembered, his behavior made it worse for her. ‘’Yes, that!’’ He didn’t close the space between them, his hands behind his back. ‘’Did I upset you, little dove?’’ was he mocking her? ‘’Upset?!’’ Y/N couldn’t believe her ears, what happened to that sweet boy she met years ago?

He started to move towards her like a predator, he was much taller than her, towering above her she had to look up to meet his icy blue orbits. Years had turned him into a killing machine, what a shame. She hoped to see remorse in those beautiful eyes but found nothing. Back of his hand found her heated cheek, touching ever so gently, it made one wonder how could he behead an innocent girl and then touch his wife-to-be like a tender lover. ‘’This is what happens when you reject my orders.’’ His voice calm and collective. ‘’I hate you!’’ and she pushed his chest but had no impact so she moved away from his aura. That’s when she noticed that they were in his quarters of the fortress, she remembered the fact that he dismissed the guards, no one to help her if things were to took a turn. ‘’You hate me?’’ he asked, still calm. ‘’What else… do you also fear me?’’

‘’No.’’ she simply answered. His none existent eyebrows rose, his pupils dilated ever so slightly, she noticed how still he was, like a statue. His nostrils flared with a passion she could not placed.

‘’No? So you don’t fear me.’’ He repeated back, folding his arms, he wasn’t angry, only curious. ‘’Not at all?’’

‘’You aren’t allowed to hurt me.’’ Her voice higher than his.

‘’Not allowed?’’ he tilted his head, his voice low and husky, ‘’and how can you be so certain of such?’’ a slight smile pulled at his plump lips, ‘’What makes you so confident in that?’’ he knew his own intentions but he was curios of what went on within her pretty head. There was a certain aura about Y/N that intrigued Feyd, he was watching, listening and studying her.

‘’Let me go back to my home.’’ She whispered, even she didn’t believe herself but that was her intention, to go back and ride her horse, walk in the lush gardens, laugh with her other Bene Gesserit friends. ‘’You assume you have the final word where you go.’’ He chuckled, his voice lower than before. ‘’I decide where you go.’’ His gaze grew sharp like an animal, ‘’I decide what you do. And what I decide..’’ Feyd laughed again, ‘’You’re going to obey.’’

‘’I had a life before you took me, I had a family and friends and, and..’’ she could feel her eyes getting blurry, ‘’And?’’ he insisted, ‘’I had a partner, a lover, and you scared him away!’’ she was practically yelling at this point, female rage taking over her body. ‘’A lover? Don’t make me laugh little girl. If he was so in love with you-‘’ he opened his arms looking around, ‘’where is he? Why isn’t he here defending your honor and saving you from me?!’’ with the mention of Y/N’a former partner Pyramus, Feyd-Rautha wasn’t so calm anymore, he could feel rage rising in his body.  

‘’Because of you! You scared him and he ran! Otherwise he would be here-‘’

‘’Don’t be that stupid Y/N! He wasn’t so scared when I offered him a deal.’’

And with that Y/N was confused, ‘’What deal?’’

Feyd-Rautha was pacing in the room in anger, he couldn’t believe she was still ‘’in love’’ with that low life, waste of space. ‘’I offered him a supply of spice which will outlive him and his children and his children’s children. A generation wealth so to speak.’’

Y/N was shaking her head in rejection, her gaze focused on the floor, ‘’No, no,’’ she whispered, not believing what Feyd was suggesting. ‘’Yes Y/N! Your lover didn’t hesitate a second and took the deal.’’

‘’Then why did he try to escape with me?!’’ she yelled in pain, her heart was torn into pieces, ‘’I wanted you to see how pathetic he was and I staged it.’’ Feyd’s chest heaving with anger and he was so passionate to prove her he was right, he turned to go to the next room and brought back a metal device, he opened it, ‘’Here, he signed the deal.’’ She took it and saw the spice deal written on it, millions of gallons.. and Pyramus’ signature at the bottom…

Feyd grabbed the metal device and threw it on the couch near him, ‘’Not going to lie, you weren’t cheap.’’ And she slapped him.

Feyd-Rautha was slapped by a woman for the first time in his life, he froze for a second, shocked to see how bold she could be. He was even turned on a bit. With both of his hands he grabbed her delicate shoulders tightly, he was much stronger than her. ‘’LET GO OF ME-‘’

Feyd-Rautha didn’t care what she wanted, ‘’I might hurt you physically Y/N, but I would never do that to you. I would never sell what’s mine for something else. Do you hear me?!’’ his voice was rough and irritated her ears, her body was in shock and her shoulders hurting her. ‘’I would never leave what’s mine behind and walk away, I am a man, see me as a man not that little boy you met years ago!’’

Was that a love confession, no it couldn’t be.. someone like Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen couldn’t possibly feel something so pure and innocent, or was it just being possessive and showing her that her life was in his hands till death do them apart. The stress overcame her body, her vision was getting darker and the last thing she saw was Feyd’s pretty eyes.

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Thank you for reading. :)

[rellsingsovern]

In my notes during this whole season I’ve kept track of loose ends and just other plot points I think could make for a great senior year (which now seems likely that we will get down the line in the future) and this finale gave me almost everything I wanted and more so here’s what I think we’re gonna see (plus things that I just rly want to see lol)

-first and foremost, BARON IS STILL IN RIZ’S BRIEFCASE!!! the spectral mordred manor probably is not there as that was a haven sent out by cassandra during all the divine interventions in falinell and the bad kids dove in as a last second decision, but baron is still definitely there. ‘I am somewhere always close to Riz Gukgak’ and while everyone’s journey with their sexuality happens on their own time and Riz shouldn’t have to come out if he doesn’t want to yet, now that he’s coming to terms that his friends might not always be together in the way he wants to I think it would be healing for him to fully confront and accept his aro aceness and have support with that and realize that even if they can’t be physically together his friends won’t leave him for other relationships

-Fabian is getting a new baby sibling, but that is not the only sibling he’s ever had. James Whitlaw made references to his half siblings from Bill that he killed and ate, I am POSITIVE that at least one is still out there and probably has it out for Fabian (as Bill married Hallariel, raised Fabian, and dragged his ship into solace to give him a new life) and an arc where Fabian has to defend himself against an older sibling while growing to love his younger would be amazing to see

-kalina, bakarath, bobby, and buddy ofc, I’ve been wondering where kalina has been this whole time, and I want to see more of bobby getting what he deserves. Cassandra’s been through a fucking lot this season but her familiar apparently might be a big bad along with arianwen again so sorry cass but the cat’s gotta go. she still directly got pok killed riz deserves to hunt her down and avenge him a second time

-speaking of, Arianwens been making moves in sylvaire! Adaine and aelwyn will surely kill her but from the looks of it even though she got her magic taken away she may have some sort of power. Cant wait for these sisters to be able to live immortal lives without their parents looming over them

-BUCKY APPLEBEES!! bucky, a paladin of cassandra, gathering the courage to ask Kristin for help getting bricker and cork out of the Applebees residence, maybe moving into mordred and everyone immediately being enamored with these cute little boys who honestly might turn out to be mumple instead of wanting to attend the adventuring academy and Kristin being so happy they aren’t being raised in a pressure cooker anymore and affected like she and bucky were affected, happy that they can be normal kids (and in being around Kristin’s other sisters, adaine and fig, Kristin ends up getting that sister she always wanted in bucky too)

-I’m so happy Fig is getting what she wants and realizing she doesn’t want to finish Aguefort, and it would be awesome if she got a new character and the bad kids took on a new party member for the year played by Emily so all the intrepid heroes are still together, but Fig could be hanging out between mordred and Seacaster and leviathan and Hell, writing music and helping Kristin spread word of the cassandra/Ankarna pantheon through it, and since in sophomore year we saw Penelope dayne daybreak and Johnny spells all kicking it in hell maybe Jace (who ik was a minion mostly but hey he could be evil on his own) is down there with some other bad kid nemeses

-more Galicea and Sol. Sol canonically was all for bringing Ankarna into the pantheon of himself, his sister galicea, his other sister cassandra, and his son helio. It was Sol’s followers who saw Ankarna brought in as another god of the sun and brought about the ruin and corruption of Ankarna alongside the house of sunstone in order to get more power for themselves with just the one solar deity existing. Both Sol and Galicea (and maybe helio) have been hardcore shaped by their followers, Galiceas wolfish side being repressed by the high elf state of falinell and being brought back through wolfsong, and Sol with the human clerics of highcourt scheming to make him the only god with a sun domain despite him officiating and welcoming Ankarna as his sister in law through the marriage. Plus if we get galicea arcs we defo get Kristin and tracker messy lesbians arcs

-Gorgug perfecting his new subclass he invented and Kristin enjoying being student body president! She deserves it, I hc that the only academic sort of thing Kristin cared about before this year was the lgbtq+ club and now she’s extending that energy into everything with the help of Riz, who cannot get off of coffee someone help this poor boy. And since Ragh and shellford have graduated I want more Torek Railgrinder, she’s so cool let’s flesh her out more. Gorgug thinking about how to teach other multiclass barbarian/artificers and perfecting all his awesome inventions (and dating both Unit and Mary Ann bc it’s what his poly ass deserves)

Basically the potential plot I see for senior year is almost a mirror of sophomore year: baron getting out and fighting Riz and the bad kids defeating him for good, the bad kids heading to leviathan after hearing rumors of a pirate calling themselves a child of Bill Seacaster looking for Fabian, heading to falinell to see what’s new with wolfsong and tracker and maybe seeing some changes in Galicea or Sol, heading to hell and meeting up with Fig for a portion (she doesn’t go to their school anymore! she ain’t gotta go on this senior year spring break quest!) who’s been hanging out in hell, tracking Jace and other enemies, establishing her power as an archdevil of the first layer of hell, writing awesome music, and finally back to sylvaire to figure out what the fuck is up with kalina and arianwen and this weird new god buddy has and they all graduate and head their separate ways but they still love each other and see each other all the time they’re family and they’re badass and they’re perfect

[ladylaviniya]

Wails of Wedded Bliss

Chapter 6 || Masterlist || Chapter 8

Chapter Summary: Upon meeting the Baroness you are enamoured by her devotion.

Pairing: Sherlock Homes x wife!reader

Chapter Warnings: 18+ Dead Dove Do Not Eat, (No Smut), typical historical misogyny and sexism, mentions and discussion on miscarriages. Implied domestic abuse and infidelity.

Word Count: 9k

Author Notes: This is an important but rather sad chapter. I beseech you all to read the warnings. The details of this chapter are important to the plot of the missing Baron Thaddeus Pennicott.

Inspiring Song: "Flightless Bird American Mouth" by Vitamin String Quartet

8:30am Wednesday 7th May 1890, Grovelands House, The Bourne, London, England. 

Sherlock tucked your arm into his side as you three entered the Groveland house foyer. The floor was made of fine marble tile and with ever step a light echo raced down the halls.

The inspector called upon a nearby dusting maid to fetch the head of the house. Who returned was a thin and tall man in a butler’s uniform with a sliver pocket watch hanging from his chest. His hair was the colour of autumn leaves and his face littered in freckles.

He bowed, “I am mister Edward Redmayne, head butler of the Groveland estate, how may I assist you?”

The inspector shook his hand and stated quickly, “We spoke on the telephone yesterday? A telegraph was sent.”

The butler smiled with a relieving gasp, “Detective Holmes?”

Lestrade sheepishly looked over his shoulder to you and your husband. He nodded. His expression wore a emotion of embarrassment mixed with annoyance. Perhaps he was jealous of your husband’s successful published case stories. You wished you could have told the constable not to fret as Sherlock was nothing short of a arrogant mule...yet again- the mark on his face...he probably already knew that.

8:42am Wednesday 7th May 1890, Grovelands House, The Bourne, London, England. 

Upon meeting the lady of the house, you stood frigid by your husband. You felt somewhat self conscious by her grey eyes that lingered over your dress. Perhaps you should’ve worn your Sunday best before meeting a woman of such a high status.

The baroness was unmistakably pregnant. Her belly was bold and rounded beneath her maternity gown. She had been sitting calmly on a resting chaise, knitting a small bonnet for her future child. Her hands were covered in fine burgundy velvet gloves to match her modest dress.

Her face was framed by a light brown curls, that appeared almost white in some places, twisted into a bum at the base of her neck. Her pale face was blotchy with pink flecks and slight acne.

“Lady Pennicott, I am Inspector Braydon Lestrade of Scotland Yard,” the British officer proclaimed as he bowed dramatically forward. You withheld a girlish giggle by how low the man had bent his head and presented himself foolishly, and from the corner of your eye you manage to catch the whisp of Sherlock’s smirk.

The inspector waved his arm behind him and moved aside, “-and with me is Detective Sherlock Holmes and his wife, Mrs Holmes.”

You produced the baroness a respectable curtsy, your eyes glued down to the beautifully patterned carpet. You wondered how the servants could keep it so clean and freshly unstained by dirty guests. It must have been new.

The baroness shuffled her knitting needles and ball of woollen yarn into a Whicker basket and disposed of it beside her.

A slow stretching smile graced her thin lips as she spoke to you, “Oh, are you the little dear who solved that factory match girl incident?”

You weren’t sure how to answer her question. You weren’t entirely sure what the baroness was referencing until Sherlock stepped closer with your arm still cradled in his.

“No dear Baroness,” Sherlock pat your hand gently, “That would have been my sister Enola Holmes, she has her own detective office at present moment. My wife is here on my invitation. I wished to gift her a sight of the grand park and estate while I was here upon duty.”

The Baroness cocked her head, from her ears hung pearls that swung and hung like rain drops.

“Come forth dear,” she lifted her hand and beckoned you, “I would like to have better view of you.”

You wondered if she could smell the sweat beginning to drop down the back of your neck. You bit your tongue and tried to refrain from trembling. You were nervous. Her eyes were cold but her smile warm, two conflating details that you couldn’t understand. The last thing you needed now on top of a terrible start to your marriage was to be scrutinized by a haughty pregnant baroness.

She flickered your fingers for you to bend down to her. As you leant down, you swore you could smell copper, a metalic scent. A vein on your scalp pulsed. She scanned your face of its details. You dared to wonder what she was searching for. And then it clicked...the smell...

‘Dear god, you prayed, please don’t let her smell my blood, please let this not be my blood...’

You should have sprits on some perfume before leaving baker street.

She glanced behind you and questioned angelically, “How does it feel having such a clever husband?”

Your lips opened and closed. You resembled a fish. You were stumped to answer quickly.

‘Miserable, infuriating, torturous, pleasurable mixed with a cup of agony...’

She lifted her brows until you hurriedly blurted, “He is...formidable and righteous...” you stood up tall and took a step back, adding with a monetarism of truth, “I am very lucky to have become his bride.”

‘Lucky, while incredibly resentful.’

You reached back, Sherlock adopted your arm back into his hold once more.

Lady Pennicott rubbed her belly, her eyes started to twinkle, “And soon you will have a plethora of children that will look like him I gather.”

Your eyes fluttered. Sherlock’s hand tightened around your glove and his throat bobbed. You felt hot in the face.

Yes that’s right, that’s what normal husband and wife did isn’t it? They have children. That was your role, to be the mother of Sherlock’s offspring...

You couldn’t answer.

And there. That dear girl is when you questioned for the first time. ‘Is this what I want?’ and ‘Do I want Sherlock’s children.’ Because having a knowing of his barbarism conflated a fear in your belly...would Sherlock hurt his own children if he could easily hurt you, his wife?

When you hesitated for too long to answer her again, Sherlock said with a strained tone that was masked in a hopeful joy, “One may only hope, Baroness.”

“Lady Pennicott,” Graydon interrupted, “We have come to ask you on the whereabouts of Lord Pennicott and the evening he was last sighted.”

Her eyes narrowed at the inspector and with an annoyed twinge she muttered and wiped her hands on a nearby blanket, “I already informed the police of what I was informed of by our butler Edward.”

She glanced up next her right. Mister Redmayne observed her, looking down. The pair smiled to each other. She reached out to him. She grabbed his hand and they squeezed.

The inspector laughed nervously, “Indeed but Detective Sherlock Holmes was not presently involved in the case until yesterday.”

Her eyes flickered quickly to your husband and her face flared with confusion quickly to be matched with a impressed smile, “Of course, please sit all of you as I am near a indisposition with my child,” she gestured to the mirroring chaise and a chair beside the fireplace, “Edward, please tell Martha to bring tea and biscuits for our kind service men and Mrs Holmes.”

The butler bowed to you all and left the sitting room.

Lestrade took his place on the lone chair while Sherlock sat you beside him on the chaise. You took your time to lower yourself. Sitting on your bruises was uncomfortable while another cramp hit you. Your fingers dug into his palm.

From Lestrades breast pocket he pulled out a notebook and small pencil.

“Lady Pennicott,” Sherlock softly hummed, “Please, could you tell me what your husband is like as a person?”

The woman who you believed was in her late thirties smiled and stated softly, “My Thaddeus is a noble man, good taste in wine and very devoted to his work. He likes to go hunting and we share a passion for gardening,” she glanced up at the ceiling and paused, “He prefers to plant vegetables to donate to the church and orphans, whereas I have always loved to grow my flowers.”

The way she described him, her devotion was deep and honourable. She touched her round belly.

Sherlock looked over to the fire place behind the baroness. On the mantle was a magnificent portrait twice your height, painted on the canvas was who you recognised as Lord and Lady Pennicott. He was sitting up straight on a fine red cushioned chair with his dirty blonde hair and softened mutton chops while she stood at his right and her ringed hand on his shoulder. The similarities were there but Lady Pennicotts hair had lightened in reality perhaps from all the years that separated her likeness and her reality.

“I was informed Lord Pennicott is a father of five?” Sherlock asked.

The Baroness smiled proudly and pat her tummy softly, “Six soon.”

You couldn’t help notice something was missing from the painting, Sherlock also had a similar thought.

Where were the children in the portrait? Where was a family portrait in the house?

“Forgive me,” a breath of air escaped from him, “are the children away at school?”

“Oh,” her uncanny smile remained while her brows angled down, her throat tightened as she spoke, “I fear they are in the loving embrace of angels now. All of them were taken from us by God,” her eyes glanced to you, “They came out sleeping.”

Your heart sunk to the pit of your belly with sorrow and pity.

Five babies lost, five babies gone…five pregnancies… four and a half years of pregnancy and for what? Five angels.

A woman had one holy role in life, to bare her husband children, and when a woman was defective or produced a sickly child, it was a symbol of failure in society. But you never saw it that way...you imagined it must’ve been agony to lose so many babies. One or two was a common occurrence but five? Five was a curse to experience and relive over and over.

“Well,” you interrupted Sherlock rudely, cutting him off from his next abrasive question by squeezing his hand a little too hard.

You could see the mourning in the baroness’ face. You saw the classic look of all women made uncomfortable by something a man has said. What the hell would the detective know about a woman’s emotions after how coldly he has treated all women and yourself.

You shuffled on the opposite chaise and smile softly, “I will pray this one will come swiftly and feel the warmth of their mother.”

The baroness’ face lifted and warmed. She smiled happily and nodded, “Thankyou, oh I’m just so excited! This one really is a big one, I can feel it. I hope it’s a boy.”

Sherlock was staring at you intensely as the maid Martha finally delivered a pot of tea and poured the steaming liquid. His brows were knitted and his eyes held suspicion as he kept you in his sight. You politely nodded your head once at him before reaching for a hot cup and lifting it to your lips.

Sherlock sighed and turned back to his questioning, “You would say you liked your marriage?”

The baroness appeared offended by your husband as her face wrinkled and a sneer spread her thin lips, “Of course, any woman who doesn’t like her marriage should not be married in the first place. She is a burden to her husband if she cannot perform her duties as a wife.”

Lady Pennicott leant forward and collected her own cup of tea, she delicately pinched a biscuit and dunked it into the contents.

…you felt Sherlock drag his thumb across your fingers. You felt chilly, could he read your thoughts? Did he know truly how much you already hated him and his ideas of intimacy in your marriage? He clear his throat when both your glancing eyes caught each other.

“Can you tell me what happened,” Sherlock pressed, “The night of your husbands disappearance?”

“Well...after dinner,” the baroness sighed in thought and nibbled on her moist biscuit, “Thaddeus wanted to speak with me in his office about a spending I had made a week ago. You see, I had bought a cradle for the nursery. The one we had originally was broken and beyond repair, we disposed of it a month prior. Thaddeus was not pleased with the price and claimed it was an unnecessary purchase,” she paused and set her cup aside before she touched her belly again; rubbing in soft slow circles, she began to blushed, “He was sorely hurt by my choice. He then became very cross with me and left his office in a huff.”

She looked to the yarn, to the tea pot and then finally to the painting on the mantle, “I deemed that he would find forgiveness in his heart by the morning and brush it off. I returned back to the nursery to tidy up before I went to my rooms and went to bed to sleep in my quarters of the east wing. Thaddeus keeps himself to the west wing most nights.”

The detective nodded, “What time do you believe it was when you went to your bed, Baroness?”

She hummed softly while pursuing her lips, “A quarter to nine in the evening.”

“And how did you realise your husband was missing?” Sherlock stole a scone off the tea tray and lifted it to his lips. He paused amidst chewing it slowly.

The noble woman sighed and recollected, pragmatically, “In the morning Mr Redmayne informed me on how Thaddeus took off into the night astride Arion, our prize stallion Clydesdale. Thaddeus had not returned by the next morning and that is when concern drew near. I sent members of my staff to the factories to investigate his whereabouts and none had come upon him. I knew something had to be wrong so I alerted the authorities by the second morning.”

Your husband took a deep breath and discarded the half bitten scone, he wiped his hand unceremoniously on his jacket and throatily asked, “Do you recall if Lord Pennicott has any potential persons he might be deemed as an enemy towards?”

“Only his company competitors, Detective,” She said saccharinely with her smile, “He was a very loveable man.”

“Do you have a list of the names of staff who were working that evening here in Groveland House?”

The butler stepped forward and cleared his throat, “That would be in Lord Pennicotts office,” he pulled out a pair of keys, “I can you show you gentlemen in and where he keeps his accounts and other paraphernalia to his business if you’d like?”

Both Sherlock and Lestrade smiled and stood up.

“Baroness,” Sherlock gently requested, “Would it be overly bothersome if my beloved wife remained and kept you company while the inspector and I look in your husband’s office.”

Your heart jumped to your throat. What was Sherlock doing leaving you behind with the Baroness by yourself!?....what if you spoke out of turn or said something too presumptuous for your status!?...

“Most certainly not,” she beamed “I will gladly accept such delightful company,” She held out a hand, palm down to her right. The butler speedily stepped to her side and leant her his hand. She winced as she scooted forward on the cushioned lounge before struggling to rise to her feet.

Sherlock leant down and kissed the back of your wrist again, so scantily in front of the baroness. You tried tor refrain from loudly gasped and bringing anymore dangerous attention to yourself. Your husband left your side and followed the butler with Lestrade out of the sitting room.

So the party turned to two married women. The baroness was pleased.

She stepped closer to you and reached for your arm. You were surprised by her familiarity but you would not deny the assistance of a woman so desperately swollen and ready to birth any day.

“My dear, would you care to have a stroll with me in my garden?” She smirked and jerked her chin, “Knowing how dear Thaddie kept his space organised I suspect the gentlemen might be a while.”

You nodded and quickly made the warning assurance, “Are you in a condition to move great feets Lady Pennicott?”

“Fret not,” She giggled girlishly and waved her hand casually, “The physician told me fresh air is delightful for the health of the babe,” she tapped the top of her belly, “I have a month or so before they come.”

Your eyes widened, she looked huge enough to give birth now, surely she wasn’t a month away!! Maybe she was going to be blessed with a pair of twins. You had such a limited knowledge of pregnancy in women. Your grandmother hadn’t given birthed a child in the last forty years before your birth!!!

She pointed the way out of the main mansion to enter the garden paths. The sun was perfect today amongst the clouds. It was neither cold nor hot nor humid and dank...it was pleasant and you could smell the fresh nature of bushels and flowers.

“How long have you been known as, The Mrs Holmes?” She inquired cheerfully with her shining silver eyes.

“...Not very long,” you replied warmly before risking a white lie, “We recently finished our honeymoon.”

She grinned and waddled passed a wooden bench, she took a quick stop to rest and pat the seat for you to join her instead of standing dumbly.

“Shall I share some words of advise?,” She hummed, “From a woman that has been married for twelve years?”

“I would be ever so grateful,” you said rushed and desperate. You wouldve listened to anything she had to say. A woman of her standing must’ve held adequate wisdom.

She warmly cupped both your hands and squeezed them. And yet there was an ice creepy into her gaze. She appeared to dissociate, her voice losing its youthful lilt. Her lip wobbled slightly.

“Men are visual creatures. While you are so young and beautiful, you must become pregnant as soon as possible,” Lady Pennicott ran her palm across your waist, her eyes like razors cut across the yard to a bush of red rose buds, “It is inevitable that our husbands will stray their gazes to other women, it is in their nature,” those grey stones in her face rolled back and weighed you down, “as I said- visual creatures. The sooner you make a babe, the easier his devotion comes,” A joyous grin returned to her thin lips, she playfully tapped the tip of your nose and stated, “Trust me upon this.”

You clenched your hand behind you and strained a smile, “I thankyou for such wise words Baroness. I will endeavour to do what I must to conceive.”

At this moment in time Sherlock had proved himself a monstrous villain. Would it be possible for you to fall pregnant?

You looked out at the divine lush greenery and exhaled softly.

“Do you garden Mrs Holmes?” the baroness queried.

You chuckled softly and removed your gloves, you flashed her a sight of your palm, “I am afraid my hands have never been introduced. My grandmother preferred I focus on mastering piano and embroidery.”

The grey orbs fluttered back at you with a surprised him, “Embroidery is a lovely skill,” she pat your hand and pointed across the field, “Please help me up Mrs Holmes, let us take a look at my lilacs.”

You stood straight up and leant out your arm, she was surprisingly light for a woman her size. She leant against you and took small timid steps to her flower patches.

She stood and admired the flower patches, pointing to different types and explaining the breeds of flowers she hoped to grow in the future.

You finally bent over enough and cupped the petals of purple to hold up to your nose and took in a wiff “They smell lovely,” from the corner of your eye was a line of crimson, “I see your roses will soon be in bloom.”

She pinched a bud that was peaking to bloom soon.

“Oh yes, the soil is rich and healthy,” she giggled, “I can’t wait for Thaddeus to return, he liked the roses. He would stand here for a while and think. I know he will love the red colour. It is his favourite shade you see...” She sighed dreamily with her eyes scanning the bushes of scarlet rose buds, “I miss him terribly. I hope he’s alright. I want him to come home soon before the baby arrives.”

A fly smacked into your eye and you sputtered, battering it away. When you gracelessly composed yourself, you stood back up to your feet beside the Lady of Groveland.

You could see how her eyes puddles with droplets of mournful tears. You felt bad for any woman that did not know where her husband was. Especially if there was a rumour about him fleeing the marriage and abandoning her in her serious pregnant condition.

Taking the chance, you boldly took both your hands into yours and now squeezed them. Another buzzing from a fly sat on your shoulder.

The day was growing warmer and a bead of sweat rolled down your neck. The fly tickled your neck and suckled along your salted skin.

You tried your best to ignore the annoying creature.

“I am sure he will Lady Pennicott,” you soothed with a soft welcoming grin, “And he will be most happy when he returns.”

She sighed solemnly and glanced back at the rose bushes. You felt obligated for her happiness in that moment. Glancing back to the house you felt a opportunity come to you.

“May I visit your nursery Lady Pennicott, so I may have references for my own in the future?”

Her eyes flickered up, her face shine bright and her hand tightened over your wrists excitedly as though she was still as youthful as a school girl.

“Why of course Mrs Holmes,” she spun on her heel and wobbled a slight, she lifted her hand and called to the maid Martha still packing the china set inside, “Please inform the detective that I am taking his wife up to the nursery.”

“Yes Baroness,” she said with a humble curtsey and scurried off while Lady Pennicott took you totally inside the house and up a grand stair case from the foyer.

9:03am Wednesday 7th May 1890, Grovelands House, The Bourne, London, England. 

Up, up, up you both climbed the stairs. You noticed how the stairs didn’t bother her ladyship once, she was fit and stridden widely whereas you were breathing a little hard by the top step.

She pulled you down a hallway to a white painted door.

She excitedly opened the door wide and practically skipped inside to show you around her future child’s room.

The walls were covered in light blue and yellow paint. There were small peonies covering the trim of the room. There was no carpet but who needed one when you had a newborn.

“Welcome to the resting nest of my baby,” Lady Pennicott proudly exclaimed, spreading her arms out at the room around you.

There was a tall shelf filled with stuffed animals and teddy bears. There was a rocking horse, a doll house, spinning tops, tin cars and rubber balls all waiting, collecting dust, awaiting the arrival of a playmate. There was a permabulator by the window sill. There was a rocking chair in one corner and against the wall closest to the door- you smiled and swaggered over curiously, “Is this the cradle you bought?”

It was made of fine cream painted wood. You chewed your bottom lip in the thought. It was a lovely crib, why was Lord Pennicott so upset by such a delightful purchase? He didn’t have money issues. You put it down as that you didn’t understand the way men thought and men will never know what women think.

“Yes,” Lady Pennicott chirped, “it is from William Whitely department store in Baywater next to the Howard & Co dress department.”

The Baroness sat down into her rocking chair and slowly moved it back and forth, watching you admire the nursery she spent hours and years consistently curating.

You clenched the edge and looked over the railing down at the empty bedding. There was a teddy lamb in the corner, you pinched it’s fluffy white tail and sighed. For a brief moment you let your eyes close and your imagination wander far.

One day you’d have this...with Sherlock. An empty cradle to be filled. You caught the vision of a tiny hand squeeze around your finger and the sound of soft gurgles with the warm pressure of a hand on your waist...was that Sherlock’s hand? Was that your child?

One day you’d have a baby to care for, to provide these things that meant love...yet, was any child of Sherlock’s capable of love? He certainly wasn’t as far as you were concerned.

You bit down a shudder and opened your eyes, feeling hot tears glide down a cheek. You pushed back and sighed, “I am most confident on one thing Lady Pennicott.”

“And what is that Mrs Holmes?” she said softly, she could see the unspoken pain in your face. You swallowed hard and your face fell into a smile, you flashed her a wink.

You laughed softly, “Your child will be spoilt rotten by the love you give.”

She chuckled with you and nodded.

“Have you thought of a name?” you inquired, waltzing over to the chested drawers of baby knick knacks on display.

“Thaddeus Colin if it’s a boy,” she hummed, “or Theresa Grace if it is a girl.”

“Theresa?”

She giggled gently, “That is my name dear.”

Mrs Theresa Pennicott. It suited her. Her old soul eyes reflected her devout name.

A shine of glass pierced a ray of sun into your eyes, you pinched the glass object carefully. You touched a long black tube pulling out of it. You couldnt understand it’s purpose, your eyes narrowed at the rubber end that was shaped like a thumb or a cows udder. There was a second tube attached to the first with a rubber squeeze ball at the end.

“What is this?” you humoured.

“Oh that? It’s a fantastic invention,” The baroness said, “It’s a pump for breast milk with a tube that syphons the milk into this baby feeding bottle. When babies start to teeth they can scar your breasts. This is an effective and modern method I look forward to trying.”

Your eyes widened, scarring!? Babies teeth could scar a breast!?

You placed the bottle bump back and helped Lady Pennicott when she beckoned to stand back up from the rocking chair.

“Have you ever felt the sensations?” She suddenly, “In which they kick within?”

Your face must’ve looked idiotic as you asked plainly, “Kick?”

She giggled and nodded, “Give me your hand, perhaps you may feel them moving.”

She plucked your palm and pulled your glove off your fingers. She pressed your entire hand intimately to her belly. You felt a sense of taboo shame, she was making you touch such a beloved spot.

“Do you feel it?” she then asked.

Felt what? Confusion flooded your mind. Your hand moved around her belly slowly.

“I am afraid I don’t know what I’m meant to be feeling?”

She moved your hand and again you felt absolutely nothing.

“They are very brutal on my body,” Lady Pennicott sarcastically assured, “trust me there is a kick.”

She made a point to push your hand harder, but all you felt was the hard material of her corsetry beneath her main dressing materials.

“Baby’s kick you inside?” you marvelled with stunned horror. This was the first time you’d ever heard of such a notion of a baby beating it’s mother inside.

“Not out of malicious intent Mrs Holmes,” she reassured, “mostly it is the baby using its limbs to move their cramped bodies inside or excitement at the sound of voices, I truly believe they can hear us while still inside. Fear not, to you it will feel like a faint touch like this-”

Lady Pennicott softly tapped your wrist, “Like that.”

And there again was new knowledge you heard from a woman on matters of pregnancy. You moved your fingers around, seeking the supposed feeling of a kick...

Still nothing. You frowned, was there something wrong with you that the baby was choosing not to reveal itself.

“How interesting...”

A soft knock on wood alerted you both to glance at the door.

“Mrs Holmes,” the butler from earlier politely spoke, “the detective is requesting your return, I believe he intends to depart.”

Your face fell. You couldn’t believe it but you’d found this experience immensely enjoyable. You had surprisingly made a friend of the Baroness.

The fair lady hugged your side and sweetly exhaled, “Then I shall escort you back to your husband, Eddie fetch me my cheque book.”

He nodded and walked ahead of you both. You solemnly shut the nursery door, trying to remember every precious detail as possible. It was a innocent place to escape from the crude world.

You returned to the bottom of the foyer and smiled at your husband that stood by Lestrade at the front doors.

By the bottom step you faced the noble woman and curtsied.

“Thankyou Lady Pennicott for your kind hospitality and agreeable cooperation to the case,” you heard Sherlock’s voice float over your shoulder.

“Of course detective, please,” the Butler returned with her cheque book, “find my beloved Thaddeus.”

She scribbled speedily with a modernised ink pen, a sharp tear of paper flashed to his direction, “Here. Thirty pounds. I am sure you are busy with other clients considering your reputation, but I beseech you to seek out my husband quickly.”

Sherlock bowed his head as he deposited the cheque into his pocket, “We shall try our hardest. Good afternoon Lady Pennicott.”

Your mouth might’ve collected flies. Thirty pounds. THIRTY pounds. That was a hefty wage for a year to many men.

Sherlock was granted his coat and walking cane along with Lestrade.

He opened the front door and left slowly, glancing over your shoulder back at the heavily pregnant Baroness.

9:21am Wednesday 7th May 1890, Grovelands House, The Bourne, London, England. 

Sherlock and you walked up the gravel path in silence for sometime. You weren’t in much of a mood to speak to him despite well knowing conversation would need to spark eventually.

The three of you slowed down beside the inspectors horse cart.

Thankfully it was Sherlock who destroyed the silence with a stretched sigh. Lestrade grimly smiled at that sigh and rocked on his heels.

“Lestrade, show a useful skill,” Sherlock slapped a coin purse into his chest, “Find my wife and I a decent ride homeward. You still need to return back to the office and finish writing those reports on the Spring heeled Jack sightings....” he snickered.

The mutton chop male grumbled and left you pair alone to walk down the path into the main parklands to hail a cabriolet or another hackney carriage.

Sherlock pulled out his pipe and lit it quickly, he inhaled fast and asked curiously, “Did you learn anything else from our suspect?”

You squinted and felt a gasp pop from your lips, your hand snapped out and dug your nails into his arm with a scolding hiss, “Suspect? Look at the state she is in Sherlock. She clearly loves her husband. How could such a indisposed woman do anything to her husband?”

He smirked, “Perhaps a jealous one?”

Your brows pulled together. Jealousy wasn’t something you would’ve describe Lady Pennicott as especially with such a privileged life. Such an emotion wouldve been beneath her...but.. ‘It is inevitable that our husbands will stray their gazes to other women, it is in their nature.’

Sherlock pinched out a piece of card from his pocket, a business calling card, he flashed it through his fingers and let you carefully pluck it from his hand.

“it is no wonder Thaddeus Pennicotts name was so familiar,” Sherlocks huffed a puff of air, “He visits a like minded establishment.”

On the front of the card was a single image, a dove holding a olive leaf, and when you turned the card around there was a woman modelled in immodest clothing with text and an address in perfect hand writing.

“The Mayfair Row Dove club.”

You almost dropped the card in the mud at your feet.

He tucked the card back into his breast pocket and hooked his arm around yours, walking you closer to Lestrade waving his hands back at you both.

“I’m curious who his go to bird is there,” He chuckled.

You shook your head and scoffed in disbelief, “but she’s pregnant.”

“Men have needs,” Sherlock sighed, “I thought you’d have learnt that from last evening?”

Your nails dug harder into his arm and grit your teeth. Not everyone was as depraved as Sherlock, surely not. You couldn’t imagine Mycroft or your grandfather practicing such atrocities on women, especially women that weren’t their wives.

You noted snootily, “She said her husband liked to stand out by the roses to think. Perhaps he regretted his choice.”

Sherlock laughed cruelly and hard enough to almost drop his pipe from his lips. He plucked it out of his mouth and kissed you hard and squarely in front of Lestrade and any passing people that shook their heads in disgust at such public affection.

The taste of his tobacco filled your cheeks and floated down your throat into your chest. You could feel how his breath became your breath. Your head grew dizzy from it. His release left you trembling and collapsing against him briefly. His arm grabbed around your waist and held you totally against his chest.

“You see too much good in the worst people,” he whispered wetly into your ear.

“Not true,” you panted, you blinked your eyes hard and tried speaking again. You weakly pushed away from him back onto your own two feet. From the corner of your eyes you could see the inspector standing beside another hackney carriage.

“Not true,” you repeated and swallowed hard, “...I don’t see any good in you Sherlock.”

He grinned devilishly and walked you both to the carriage, He ignored Lestrade entirely except for retrieving his own purse.

“None at all?” Sherlock asked as he helped you step up inside of the carriage. It jostled as he plotted himself next to you instead of opposite.

You thought hard on his question for a time. You shouldn’t have ever been as petty as him. So you kept your silence before you could decide on a eloquent response. You did try to find the good in him. The trouble was you barely knew Sherlock and the side that you’d encounter was nothing short of a blagged, insufferable man that happened to be very experienced in the arts of the bedroom. So you tried to think about qualities you hadn’t seen in him but had at least heard of him.

“You help solve cases and even sometimes restitution, these deeds could be counted as decent and beneficial...perhaps good...”

He smirked until you finished hastily, “However your mistreatment and lustful addiction is nothing short of that than a person that suffers in his sin.”

A long annoyed sigh drew from his lips, however the corners jerked up.

He tug out his pipe and tapped it’s contents out the moving window, “Might I ask Mrs Holmes...” he inquired as he tucked in his pipe, and wiped his lips thoughtfully, “Do you think yourself better than me?”

The silence shared between the horses trotting along the cobblestones allowed you a chance to glare long and hard at Sherlock.

It was a jab, a jibe, a joke, a trick, a trap...

He wanted you to say yes... You could see it in his eyes the way they flicked to your lips and almost drooled with anticipation. He wanted to start a fight.

You didn’t give him the satisfaction of looking at you, you turned your head away and scoffed, “You may have quick wit and a expansive knowledge Sherlock, but I at least carry myself with the fairest morals.”

And that? The reply was granted a omen of Sherlock’s sickly chuckles and his heavy warm hand to sit over your thigh, running his them over the fabric of your skirts.

“We will see how fair a baker street whore morals really are when we arrive home then shall we?”

You leant against the wall of the carriage and chose to ignore him. You closed your eyes and held Sherlock’s hand to prevent it wandering anywhere else. His thumb rubbed along the back of your gloves hands.

You couldn’t understand Sherlock. And feared you never would.

HELPLINES:

If you are a victim of sexual abuse, assault or domestic violence or know someone who is please reach out to these links that share helpline services, phone numbers or emails. Consent and respect is important in every relationship whether between friends, family or even strangers.

Australian Helpline Services

UK Helpline Services

American Helpline Services

India Helpline Services.

[facelesswoman666]

The Beast Blade - Feyd Rautha x Fem! Reader

Hello lovelies, I am back and i have brought to you the product of my many nights spent reading Feyd Rautha smut. I thought i would have a go at it myself. This is part one of a 4 part series. So please enjoy xoxo

Synopsis - There are enemies in every territory. At the request of the emperor, the House Harkonnen and Atreides have been asked to discuss the conditions of a peace treaty, that could subside years of futile conflict. Poised at the centre of this conflict are the young heirs of each house. Na-Baron Rautha and the young Duke Paul Atreides. Under the machinations of their guardians, they must navigate their own claims to leadership and the claims of their newfound allies. Although Rautha is developing a taste for the young Duke’s sister, and he will stop at nothing to claim what he covets. Regardless of the outcome of his desires.

18+ MINORS DNI. Sexual contact warnings

This part is short, sorry xo

Part 1 - A dove and a dog

He was Harkonnen, the perversities of his nature knew no human bounds and yet his composure was impeccable. The lone blade, they called him, hushed in opulent halls and whispered around feasting tables too grand for proper representation. Better translated to ‘Beast Blade’ in the native tongue. His character was primal, unfiltered, raw, and those who were favoured enough to appear in his presence frequently, knew of his interests.

A select few suffered them recurrently.

Na-Baron Feyd Rautha was a petulant man. Yet desirable in the traditions of the House Harkonnen. His body an expanse of heavily built muscle tissue and sheer skin, with a hue of spectre white. The rotated assortment of precious things that followed, nipping at his heels and fawning over his body were ever lingering in his presence. Although not today.

Feyd found himself, today, in an unfamiliar setting, an uncomfortable one at that. Traipsing soft footed around the halls of the Arrakeen castle, now under the jurisdiction of House Atreides. Thieving bastards he thought, and imagined his blade studying the soft pale skin of the eldest atreides child. Weak as a crib bound babe was Paul. His rumination’s shifted to the youngest atreides daughter, a girl of 18 and whether it would be pleasant to ruin her in the short time he would spend here.

The ruining of the princess was far from possibility, considering the minute truth that was she despised his bloodline, along with him. The complexities of this sand wrought cavernous abode was not lost on him, seeing as his former years as a youth had been spent causing deviltry about these halls. His hand slid over the walls; it reminded him of the past.

A servant girl began to cross his path, hurriedly skipping on tapping feet to an unknown destination. It was decided.

The Na-Baron expressed his internal sentiments ‘A dove has entered the dog’s pit’ Her chin rotated in his direction and she replied ‘And does the dove not have wings?’ Her overt defiance to a superior amused him ‘The dove has wings and the dog has teeth’ He gave in to her rebuttal. Her smile stretched small against her pretty face ‘The dove is slight’ Feyd studied the girl with intense curiosity.

‘Dogs eat birds’ The words dripped from his poison lips; he did not indulge in their recreation of the folk tale. His boredom grew within him.

She stepped closer, bringing forth the beauty of a youthful face into a light which did not shadow the most adored features. What a strange specimen, he noted, allowing her momentary pauses from his scrutiny. His eyed lowered to the tunic she wore, draped lazily over her skin and the perfect tits that hung on her chest underneath it. She noticed Rautha’s eyes darting from peak to peak across her chest. His tongue subsequently sliding over his bottom lip. He spoke ‘Do all caladan women have such perky tits? Or is it primarily you?’ Rautha smirked

The girl was not accustomed to such a word and she imagined it held its own brutality for this man. Her mother had always referred to them as breasts. The Na-Baron suppressed the urge to reach out, to skim them with his fingers. The pretty little servants on his home-world would have welcomed his hands to their chest but little did he care for those white mounds of flesh. These things were delicate, flush from exertion and begging to be touched. She, taken aback by his statement, breathed a gasp and stumbled back a pace. Was he truly so bold?

The girl stood in puzzlement of the living statue positioned before her. Slithers of yellow light filtering through the windows, washing over him as though a wave of ocean cascading. It illuminated his form for brief bursts of remark “I asked you a question” he repeated simply “And by what means do you expect me to provide an answer” She clipped her tone, speaking candidly. Feyd stilled himself, the initial spouts of rage fighting their way to heat the skin of his arms. He presented his smile, blackened teeth, gums writhing over them like tar and pressed her further “Are all caladan women blessed with perky tits? Or and i repeat, is it primarily you?”

She would not play pawn in this righteous amusement of power and lust. Her mouth kept in a hard line, to the Na-Baron’s annoyance. He reached his fingers to her in an untamed prediction of violence. The thumb and forefinger of this looming figure came to rest on her neck, pressuring the area. His other hand grasping the flesh of her ass in it claws, he craned his neck, and stretched downwards to whisper against the shell of her ear ‘I will take these tits in my mouth until they ache with pleasure and the distortions of lust cloud your feeble mind. There is no one you can run to that will affirm this ever happened. Do you understand?”

The girl nodded slowly, heaving breaths racking her lungs. Hips bucking in a childish display of discomposure, into where his pelvic bone struck against hers.

Duncan idaho rounded the corner, spotting the pair immediately and his eyed betrayed cause for concern. She sensed his presence to her side although Feyd Rautha did not conclude his oppression of her even under the eyes of the Duke Leto’s most trusted adviser. “My lady” The firm query of Idaho concealed layers only known to the girl and her family. Feyd released her at the realisation of the name Idaho gave to her. Lady, he pondered, interesting. The Na-Baron watched keenly as the little creature before him wandered off, tailed by Idaho.

The Na-Baron revelled in the accusing glance Duncan speared him with upon departure.

[icedb1ackcoffee]

Corrupted by Design CH 4 | Feyd-Rautha x Reader

After generations of pillaging and destroying their ecosystem, you are assigned by the Emperor to work on with the Harkonnens to improve their planet’s agriculture as Imperial Ecologist. However, Giedi Prime is far from welcoming, and you must fight to survive the horrors you endure at the hands of the Harkonnens. When you catch the eye of the Baron’s youngest nephew, and most prized possession, you step into a world complicated by politics and revenge.

Tags: Unbeta’d, AFAB Reader, multiple OCs, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, enemy to friends to lovers/enemy lovers, slow burn, fake science, blood, violence, gore, body horror, cannibalism, uncle/nephew incest (implied), eventual smut, etc.

A/N: I’ve never read the books, so this is a combination of the Villeneuve films, the Dune Wiki, and a heavy dose of just making shit up lol. I try my best to make Reader as nondescript as possible, but there are mentions of having periods and body hair in later chapters. As a warning up front, this will not have a Happily Ever After ending, but maybe more like Happy For Now?

Please mind the tags; this is very dark, but that comes with the territory.

Chapter Four: Obsession

Previous Chapter ⦾ Next Chapter

It took several days for the bleeding to stop. By the time you returned to the labs after your bedridden absence, that particular biting pain was replaced with grim paranoia. 

Your diet of Bane built itself inside of you so slowly, until all at once it was like the pain was a part of you, a second skin just beneath the surface. The increased light sensitivity and hand tremors you could get used to—if only the constant stomach cramps didn’t purge what little food you ate. What did it matter if you were already dying? 

You used up most of your supply of mint in effort to keep the pain at bay. Even after your period, your body barely adapted. It’s difficult to remember a time when you could merely breathe without feeling gutted.

Read More

[banj0possum]

Little mini ask bc I'm starved for affection rn

Out of your OCs, who would enjoy letting you paint their nails? I bet Dorik probably, and maybe Caspian

No. : Bo, Screw, Victor, Alistair

💀 "Uh..maybe not babydoll, how 'bout some kisses instead, huh~?"

💀 "...No thank you.."

🌙 "And mess up my nails? Oh no no no my darling~! Perhaps another time alright? Oh don't be sad~ I'd hate to see my honey cry~!"

👑 "A king does not get his nails painted...oh my little dove it's alright, how about I paint your nails? Would that make you feel better my rose~?"

I guess? : Adrian, Soda, Wolfie, Hallow

🖤 "As long as it's black...or or whatever color you want idk..j-just make it dark ok? I dont want people to think I'm weird..y-you got a really steady hand..."

💀 "It smells funky...ooo colors! Ok.."

🍂 "Nail polish? Can..I paint your nails too? I-I promise I won't lick it off again..."

🦋 "If it's not glittery, I don't want it!....ooo can it be rainbow~? *gasp* can we match!?"

Sure! : Brandon, Valeth, Silas, Baron, Ashvan

🏈 "Can it be blue? Can you make it a pattern? Can it have stars on it? Can i-"

⚔️ "Of course my duckling~! Anything to feel your gentle little hands~"

🌙 "Yes darling~! I'm sure it will look amazing on me~! May I have a deep red? It goes good with my skin wouldn't you think~?"

♠️ "O-oh..sure boss, if that's what you want..*breathing shakily at your touch*

🌾 " Y-you wanna paint my nails?...I-I uh..o-ok! hahah! Of course you can!"

Absolutely! : Kalva, Jasper, Garrick

🪶 "Pretty colors all for me? Darling wants to make me pretty!! Yehey yippee!!"

🥀 "Black please! Or hmm purple? Maybe red? Oh can I paint your nails too?"

🌙 "Ohhhhh~! You're so kind my love! Let's match shall we~! Perhaps we can make a cobweb design~? It's alright honey, I know how~! Now come here, I'll go first!"

YES PLEASE! : Ribs, Dorik, Caspian, Axel, Kagiri

💀 "YES. YES PLEASE. PUT IT ON ME NOW. PLEASE. PLEASE!!"

🔥 "M-Master wants to paint my nails?...ohhohahahahaha~! D-does this mean you're gonna mark me? Oh please oh please say so~! I'm your canvas master~!"

🌊 "Nail polish~? How fascinating! Yes please! Can we put on pearls~? Ooohh or maybe small shells? *gasp* Can I try doing yours?"

🎸 "Heheh ok babes~ Pick whatever color you want, I want it to remind me of you~"

🐉 "Do you have enough for us? Can we paint you nails too boss? C-can we make it bright pastel colors? Oooohh boss is gonna look so cute with those nails!"

[crystalskiesandcherrywine]

And all the pieces fall, right into place // Part Four

So these two slightly disturbed and (one of them at least) psychotic doves had to get married eventually ..

All feedback is welcome <3

English is not my first language 

Part One // Part Two // Part Three

Warnings: Its finally smutty and its about Feyd, so....

_____________

Na Baron Feyd Rautha x Atreides!Reader

FxM

3.212 words

______________

Your descent is quiet, as you are still unable to think or speak clearly, while Feyd Rautha seems tense and concentrated. With the ease he demonstrated on the ascent, you are sure that this has nothing to do with him facing physical challenges with the task at hand. You want to ask him about it but decide to stay silent instead, afraid to reveal more of yourself than you already have. He was promised a Bene Gesserit bride, and so far, you have behaved more uncontrolled and wanton than you ever could imagine.

The sun's rays bask your ancestors' home in a golden blanket as you enter through the gates again, where servants are already waiting for you. The exertion of today takes its toll on you, and your limbs feel heavy. Na Baron, graceful and still full of vigor as if he had done nothing but rest all day, turns to you, taking your hand in his firm grip. The touch of his lips on your knuckles sends an electric current through your core, filling the air between you with something akin to longing. "My Lady," his voice a low murmur, a force veiled in restraint, before he enters the corridors of the castle, shadowed by the servants.

Left to navigate the tumult of your own mind, you all but flee to the room where the chaos began for you, the guest library, as if the essence of the last evening's events might still be found among the scrolls and candles in it. The door gives way under your touch, revealing the Reverend Mother and Lady Jessica in the velvet-draped armchairs, their gazes piercing the flickering light. "Ah... I just wished to—" Your words faltered, and you felt like yet again you are on the precipice of stumbling into something you cannot undo.

A welcoming smile graces your mother's lips. "I knew you'd come to us," she says, the question of how lay unasked as you stepped into their world, closing the door on the shadows that trailed you. You are not even surprised and just let the question of how go unasked.

The Reverend Mother's voice, calm and unfazed by your confusion, carries the explanation, so clean and cutting that you are shocked by the directness of it. "The Reverend Mother Margot at the Emperor's court has failed. She has convinced the emperor that she will bear him the Kwisatz Haderach," her words with an icy undertone, mixed with disgust. "The Emperor fears the loss of power, the alliances of our houses a threat he cannot ignore. The presence of the Harkonnens here is no accident; it's a guarantee of our safety."

Dryness claims your throat as the implications of this take form in your mind. "Does Father know? Am I the last to be told?"

"Your father is aware. Na Baron remains in the dark, but neither he nor the Baron Vladimir is blind to the currents of politics. Paul suspects as much." It takes all your resolve not to fall at your mother's feet as if her embrace might save you from any harm coming her way and your unborn sisters' way.

"Yet, it was he who wished that Arrakis be governed by us. My marriage, arranged from birth—" you state, confusion still swirling around you like dust in the air.

"Indeed, child. But Margot Fenring's betrayal has set a new course, one that places you at the heart of the Emperor's plans. The future is yours and Paul's to create now. If his marriage to the Fremen Princess is successful and you ensure you can manage some of Feyd Rautha's more volatile tendencies," the Reverend Mother pauses, "then your bloodlines will take control of Landstrad without even trying, and CHOAM holds loyalty to the Duke of Arrakis, no matter what they proclaim otherwise."

In the following days, you keep coming back to the library, training with your mother and Reverend Mother as much as you can. Lady Jessica couldn't help but feel a sting of pride at your eagerness and concentration, pushing yourself to your limits. This left you exhausted and almost silent during dinners, keeping your interactions with the Baron to fleeting gazes. It felt like each sight of him frayed your strained mind a little bit more, with darkness creeping into the edges.

You are aware that Na Baron continues his daily training undeterred. You hear Gurney and Duncan whisper about it amongst each other. They seem impressed with his combat skills, something that you don’t see them being often. You tell yourself that after making yourself rare for the last few days, it's only polite to see your betrothed the day before your wedding. Arriving at his guest quarters, you knock, but no one answers. Guided by an urge you are too afraid to name, you press on the indentation on the door, and within a step, you are in his chambers. His attire is folded with immaculate precision along the shelves, his blades, gleaming, lay in a seated shelf. It feels so intimate to get a peek into his tiny world here, an exhilarating feeling rushes through your body.

„What are you doing here?“ 

A hissing, high pitched voice behind you startles you. You swirl around and look into black eyes of a woman, boys as Na Baron, dressed in leather overall, if those tiny scraps couldn’t be called clothing at all. Her eyes have to whites or pupils, but are just filled with back, making her seem like a wild animal. 

„Who are you“ You spit back at her.

„She is in Lots quartersssss… she will take him from ussssss“ Two other creatures appear from his bedroom, three of them looking together identically, The hair in your neck rises

„I am not the once to answer you. Now make space“ You take a step back, but the woman only come closer, his limbs moving slowly and in unnatural angels. 

„Dont thinksss soo. Why let you leave if we can kill you and have him to ourselfesssss“ and with it one of them lunges at you, her nails at your neck, her meta smelling breath on your face. You smack her away, but its three agains one and you feel a stream of blood running down your gown and arms, the pain searing. 

„Stop now“ within seconds you are free, crawling backwards and scrambling on get your feet 

„Who are you?“

The creatures only make cracking sounds in return. „Well then,“ you finally regain composure and try to ignore the drops of blood on your hands. „You can keep that to yourselves as a last thing you do.“ And just as you are about to use your voice on them again, Na Baron appears with sweat running along his cheek, this tunic clinging to his body, revealing the chilled muscles of his chest and abdomen. His gaze wanders between you and the women, between your blood on the floor and the blood on their claw-like nails.

„ I see you could not behave as I told you“ 

For a second you are enraged only to realize that he is not talking to you. „What did I say?“ His voice is pure fury. „We are so sorry, my Lord. She was here uninvited, she shouldn't“" So you decided to lay your hands on my future wife? On my betrothed?“ The women treble with each word „“Forgive us my lord“ the pleas, black tears running down their cheeks. „I forgive you“ he says, looking into their faces and with a low, wishing sound he releases the blade from its holster on his hip, slinking through their throats in one motion.

You stare at the scene before you, the pool of blood crawling to your feet. He steps right through it and gazes into your eyes. „No one will hurt you again, my Lady. No one will ever lay hands on what’s mine“ You only nod and let his kiss seal the promise. Whatever softness he has shown before is gone and is replaced by hunger and ferocity that leaves you breathless. He seems to devour you with his tongue and as you come for air there is wickedness in his features. „I think you should run now, my princess, for I am not sure how long I can hold back myself“ Your feet run on their own, leaving him laughing in the wake. So this is a glimpse of what his true nature is rumoured to be, You would be lying if you would say you are enamoured with him even more now. 

____

On the day of the wedding ceremony, you stay in your chambers. Duke Leto tries to protest as Paul comes to you, but his words fall on deaf ears. Only now do you begin to think of how many secrets had been whispered within those walls for centuries? Your handmaidens dress you, the gown is long and heavy with beads, mixing the vibrant green tones of Caladan, covered with floral patterns. As you move the beads sound almost like raindrops on cobblestones, a Melodie that carries you through the day. 

When it is time, your father leads you to the grand hall, where guests are gathered in the sea of candles. The light of the flickering flames is mirrored by your dress and you hope it can distract from the crimson creeping up into your face. Na Baron stands at the end of your walk and suddenly you feel the weight of the legacy you are carrying, how the cloth that is going to bind your hands together will bind the destiny of your families into one. His figure is dressed in a flowing black coat, that od closed at his shoulders with chrome insignia of his house. His waist is lacking the ear so he presents knifes. He is a presence of solemn elegance. When your eyes meet, a hunger flickers through his composure, but otherwise he aims almost motionless. His white skin almost glows in the light, his posture reminiscent of the pillars at the entrance of the hall. The words of the vows are spoken and with the knot at your wrist, all the whispers of the future materialize in front of you. You can feel the heat radiating from your husband's body, but he doesn’t take your hand and his expression is more guarded than you could ever give him credit for. A small disappointment rears its head, but you focus on your breathing. Your prance, the paragon of elegance and dignity, stand at your side, while Baron Vladimir and his nephew, both imposing in their own way, seem to scan you and your family still with a touch of confusion, as if they are still unsure if this is the inevitable turnout of e union, their leaves whispering in the gentle breeze, a melody of timelessness and change.

_____

The feast seem total stretch itself into an eternity, with each new dish brought forward, each cheer to the couple more grating to your ears than the other. Feyd Rautha seems to sense your absentmindedness as he touches your lower back, startling you. A laughter roars through the halls as he presses his lips hungrily on yours his tongue in your mouth and his grip on your back. You feel the eyes of the guests in you and cannot believe that this is actually something that is happening to you. Such a display of attraction is not something you are used to seeing and even less experiencing. When he finally lets you go, your face is red and flustered and with him leaving into your ear, your hands try to hold him at a distance.

„None of that now, dear Na Baroness“ his voice sweet and low, as sweet as the snakes gaze at the rabbit it is about to devour. „You are mine now, remember“. You tremble at him addressing you with your new title, another piece of the puzzle setting into the new reality you are facing. Two handmaidens appear at your side and you are gestured to leave the halls. The cheering gets even louder and from the corner of your eye, you say Jessica raising an eyebrow at the Duke, who try to remain graceful and stoic through the ordeal. 

Instead of your rooms, you are brought to the east wing. The chamber's candles mirror the grand hall, a subtle echo of their grandeur. The handmaidens leave out a nightgown for you, a whisper of black silk and lace and run a bath, fragrant with myrrh and pine. Hot water mist rises up from the basin, with tiny droplets lingering on your hair and gown. Just as one of the girls begins to untie the intricate laces of your corset on your back, Feyd Ruth’s voice fills the room.

„What do you think you are doing?“ 

„We are..“ The girl, clearly afraid bows down and tries to explain herself.

„You are leaving“ he declares and they follow the command at once. 

You stay frozen on the spot, the small sounds of the dress beads on the floor retrying your shiver. 

He is right behind you, the fabric of his cloak mixing on the floor with yours. His breath is on your neck, intensifying the shivers, which are now infused with anticipation. 

His hands resume the handmaiden's works, unrevealing the masterfully woven ties until your back is exposed to him, your dress holding on to the sure edges of your shoulders. He lets his nails glide along your spine, leaving tiny red lines on your sensitive skin. When his fingers leave your skin you feel a twinge of disappointment, but within a glimpse of a second, they return to push down the dress, as it now gathers on your hips, being held in place by the last pieces of the laces. You feel exposed and try your best to to ver up, as he circles you, with the precision of a vulture hunting down its prey. Whatever restrain he had it seems to fade by a second. His Tonge flicks his lips, as he places one hand on your neck and disposes of the rest of the dress with the other. You are standing now bare infant of him, unable to log away, as his left palm holds your face in a position facing him. His right hand disappears uncerismonuoisly between your thighs, and brushing over your sensitive sport, circling your entrance. „ I am pleased to find you so welcoming“ he smirks, feeling the wetness of your folds. You try to say something in return, but your mind is wiped clean, when his lips are at your neck, sucking at the skin around your collarbones and leaving bruises in their wake while his other hand is still at your core. 

He thought about this moment since your first kiss, letting all kinds of scenarios wander before his eyes. The Imagery of you bound to his bed, on your knees in-front of him, your hands behind your back and his hand in your hair. But for now, none of them seem enough to brand you as his. Your readiness however thinly veiled spurs him on and when he is satisfied with the chain of marks on your neck, he continues with your breasts, sucking and biting, which each whine you can hold back making him even more ferocious, The moonlight mixes with the candles, letting you appear like an ethereal creature, with soft curves and redness to the bitten spots, something divine and foreign to him. When your hands find his shoulders, still fully clothed, his voice is full of mischievous glee, like a spider that sensed something juicy got caught in the net. 

„ I don’t remember allowing that, my Lady. But it's your first transgression, so see it as a chance to learn.“ 

A glimmer of fear finds its way into your mind, the memory of his hand cutting a human throat quite fresh on your mind.

„Now be a good girl and turn to the wall. You obey, feeling the relief of the tapestry pressing into your skin, a friction so irritating and delicious you almost cannot stay still. 

„You are only getting 5 blows, but you are going to count them loud for my, my Na Baroness“ You sense how eager he is and brace yourself. Yet the pain is so searing on your bottom, ah his hands land flat on it, leaving a screaming red mark immediately that your legs tremble.

“It seems you didn’t count this one, so we have to start again“ Another blow on your butt cheeks lands with an intensity you didn’t expect.

„One..“ You manage to press between your teeth.

„Now that's better“ He almost purrs, a cat satisfied with its cats.

By the time the last blow lands, your are a mess of pain and desire.

You lay on the bed, your mind and body in a haze of desire and angst, as his clothes are disappearing on the floor. Your eyes wander dawn from his abdomen to his groin, where an unmistakable proof of his desire is covered in precum. He notices your reaction. 

„It seems like you are ready for me, but you have to prove it to me yet“. He gestures you to get on all fours, your face to him. His thumb runs along your already swollen lips, and he nudges then apart. He fills your mouth, while clawing at your har, and when you look up to him, the blue in his eye is almost gone. His thrust are hard and fast, a gagging sounds that seem to please him and just as he settles into a ferocious rhythm. But just as you think his peak is nearly there, he stops and you see how a human in him disappeared and a relentless beast has emerged. He scoops you up and oxeye you are place with your back on the silken sheets, he aligns himself with your entrance.

„All mine“ he growls and enters you in one motion. As much as you anticipated this moment, you feel utterly unprepared by being filled out like this. He doesn’t pause and takes up the pace from before. You close your eyes and another orgasm makes you scream his name like a drowning person screaming for help. His Whole body is towering over you, a marble statue that came alive. The veins on his forearms becoming more prominent, his breathing ragged and shallow. To see him unravel spurs you on even further and your nails find his shoulders and back again, gliding down to his butt, revealing red stripes on the marble in their wake.You feel your whole being clinging onto him and his own peak follows closely. You feel his warmth filling you, his last pumps weakening, as hi almost collapses onto you. None of you is able to speak. There is a tiny trickle of sweat between his shoulder blades and along cheek bon, With an inexplicable urgency you flick out your tongue and lick it up from his face. With some of the icy flu of his eyes returning, he regards you with a satisfied smirk. „Please rest assured, that I am not done with you yet, my lady“. 

___

@moonsoulk @aoi-targaryen

[yourantag]

The Red Means I Love You (Edgar×Reader)

AN: This was supposed to be finished and posted on Valentine's Day. However, as you can see from the word count, that was a fool's errand. I wanted to delve more into yanderes since I find them fascinating in writing, and now, here we are. Staining White Day red, I present to you the most generic title for an Edgar fic you will ever see. (Btw, I apologize to Edgar fans- I might've massacred your boy but I swear I tried my best.) Word count: 4.9k words TW: Blood, violence, murder, yandere themes, and blackmailing. Summary: Accepting the invitation of a dubious letter sounds just about as bad as it actually was. Oletus manor is not a name spoken without notoriety, after all. Was that where it all began? Was this your first mistake? No, it was further down the line, wasn't it? Yes, perhaps it was when you became the muse of an artist with no inspiration.

Reality has disappointed you time and time again. The expectations of a life of peace was crushed easily under the hands of society. So, you fled. You fled inside your head, transporting yourself into worlds of fiction. Romance, mystery, fantasy, and the likes kept you alive. It was the only thing you could really call safe.

Among many genres, you favored one above the others. 

Horror.

There’s a certain comfort that comes from these fictional tales. You know they aren’t real, that the killer can’t find you, that these psychopaths don’t exist. Are there people similar to them? Sure, but they aren’t in your life. Thus, they merely stay as silly little people within a book.

But, it’s not quite enough. The thrill of words upon a page cannot compete with the real deal. While you weren’t stupid enough to seek out murderers or the like, you were still dumb enough for Baron DeRoss, apparently.

The envelope is white as a dove, a blood red stamp sealing it shut. It whispers promises and praise, false hope and rewards. It’s an enticing offer, truly. Would you let it guide you astray?

Well, you were never one to turn away from the call of the abyss.

-

“I really don’t get it. I know it’s game changing, but it’s not helpful for anyone else but me! Why do they want me to team up with them?” You huffed, resting your face on your palms. Edgar merely rolled his eyes, flicking his wrist. Focused on the canvas in front of him, he let the brush streak red through white.

“You said it yourself, your abilities are game changing. We don’t even know the full extent of your abilities– who knows? Maybe you could completely uproot the current meta. Besides,” He smirked, peering at you from the corner of his eye. “The hunters are terrified of you.”

You paused, letting your arms fall flat against the table.

“Scared? Of me? I’m just another survivor– what do they have to be afraid of?”

Edgar hummed, tapping the handle end of his paint brush against his lips. “I don’t know about you, but I don’t quite fancy being stabbed.”

Okay, yeah, that was fair.

Most survivors didn’t possess the ability to fight the hunter, not really, yet here you were. When Jack had first chased you, he had the reckoning of his life. You wince at the phantom feeling of stabbing steel into flesh and bone. That was, admittedly, not what you had expected to be your special skill.

You pouted, cheek against the cool wood of Edgar’s table as you glanced around. His room was an odd combination of an art exhibition hall and an actual bedroom. It was big and extravagant, but you wouldn’t expect any less from him. 

Well, kind of.

Edgar confused you. Intriguing, even among the sea of other unique characters within the manor. You suppose that’s why he’s your favorite comrade and closest friend, if you could call him that. He’s never kicked you out of his room or flat out yelled at you, so safe to say he didn’t hate you, at least. 

He’s neutral on all matters within the manor, composed regardless of what he faced. All he cared about was his art, nothing more and nothing less. Perhaps that was how he was unaffected by everything.

You suppose that’s natural for an artist. You can’t claim to understand it perfectly, but in a way, you truly understood.

“It’s like… you’re a moth drawn to a flame, right? Art is something you’re willing to give your life to, dedicate your whole body and soul to. Even if you have to sacrifice your time, energy, or health, for the perfect outcome, you’d do it.” You had said it off handedly, not thinking much of it then. In some respects, wasn’t his passion for art just like your obsession with thrill?

But then he had grabbed your hands, looking into your eyes with such fervor. His gaze burned, a certain desperation flickering within it. What was he seeking so fiercely? What was making Edgar, apathetic, snide Edgar, act like he had found an oasis in the desert?

“You get it?” He whispered, almost pleading. 

“Maybe,” You responded.

That had been enough for him. 

Since then, you and Edgar had become an odd pair. Not quite friends, but too close to be acquaintances. You gravitated towards him, as he did to you. More often than not, you’d ask him if he’d like to team up for matches. More often than not, he’d say yes.

You suppose that’s another reason why other survivors regard you with care.

Edgar isn’t the most difficult person to work with, but definitely not the easiest. He’s all too much and too little: haughty and snide, distant and cold. He’s a reliable teammate, not a likable one. 

Still, the playful sparkle in his eyes as he led the hunter straight to you made you beg to differ. You’d curse him out as you ran, glaring at him after the match was over, before begrudgingly thanking him for supporting you with a painting or two.

However odd it was, you wouldn’t trade your friendship for the world.

-

There’s a letter in your mailbox. 

That isn’t especially weird, considering that’s what a mailbox is for. Letters, mail, packages, whatever. Still, you can’t help but pause as you stare at it. A white envelope with a lovely red seal, the stamp itself in the shape of a camellia. The embossed flower is outlined in gold, shimmering softly in the low light of your room.

Gently, you pry open the seal, careful not to damage it or the envelope. Once you’ve successfully extracted the letter without destroying everything, you stare at it with uncertainty. 

It seemed like this was a love letter from the presentation alone, yet you couldn’t help but feel a bit unsettled. You couldn’t understand why, however. It was beautiful, but simple. It wasn’t overwhelming, nor alarming. So why, from the depths of your heart, was your subconscious screaming at you to run? As though you were about to open Pandora’s box?

You unfold the letter and read.

-

Edgar gives you the nastiest side eye you’ve ever seen. Perhaps you deserve it after the stunt you pulled. Then again, what else were you supposed to do? He was going to be sent back to the manor if you hadn’t let yourself go down.

In the end, thanks to your sacrifice, the potential tie had turned into a win. Sure, you were the one sent back to the manor instead, but a win was a win! Though, Edgar seemed to disagree.

“You’re an idiot.”

You would be offended if it weren’t for the fact that he was wrapping your wounds. The tender touches were barely there, like the flutter of a butterfly's wings. He was being careful, making sure you didn’t feel even an ounce of unnecessary pain. The concentration he was putting into taking care of you was something you had only seen when Edgar was painting. 

The subtle quirk of his lips, eyes barely narrowed, and relaxed shoulders expressed more to you than any words ever could. The guilt that pooled into his chest, made evident by the quiet sighs he’d let out, seemed to manifest itself as kindness and gentle care.

It made you really want to tease him.

“Ow!” You hiss, flinching slightly away from the man. Edgar freezes, staring at you with concern.

“Shit– sorry, I didn’t mean to.” The sincere remorse in his voice immediately makes you regret your decision.

“Wait, wait, wait, no, I– gah, sorry. I was just messing with you.”

The painter’s formerly soft expression faded into a scowl, a glare sent your way even as he finished wrapping you up. Edgar immediately stands up, leaving you scrambling to do the same as he leaves the infirmary.

“Ahhhh, wait, I’m sorry! Wait, Edgar, I’m sorry, I swear I won’t do that again! C’mon, don’t leave me like this! I–” You trip on something, stumbling as you lose balance. You fully expect to kiss the ground, what with one of your arms in a cast, when lithe arms catch you.

You glance up at Edgar with a sheepish smile, gazing upon the apathetic look upon his face. Apathetic, to anyone else but you. You can see the little curl of his lips, the faint swirl of amusement in his eyes.

He helps you reorient yourself, hands on your shoulders. Once you’re safely standing, Edgar turns and continues down the hallway. His steps are slower than usual. It’s probably the closest you’ll get to an invitation.

You grin, chasing after him once more.

“So does this mean you forgive me?”

“No.”

-

“How do you manage to stay sane, painting the same thing over and over again?” You ask, half dangling off a couch. Edgar’s room is still as grand as ever, but you can see the changes. It seems more lived in, more homey. There’s a table that isn’t covered in paint, brushes, or other art supplies. There’s shelves with books instead of art supplies. Then, those cabinets have, wait for it, something other than art supplies.

It seems like a small shift to others, though that’s probably because they don’t visit Edgar half as often as you do. The first time you saw the couch, you thought you were hallucinating. 

The Edgar Valden, using something other than a stool? Incredible, revolutionary, absolutely groundbreaking.

He did not appreciate your dramatics, or so he claimed, but you knew he was covering his mouth to hide his smile.

“I’m not painting the same thing, and I am, in fact, going insane.” Edgar responds, frown deepening as he mixes a few colors together. You hum, peeking at the canvas as much as you can from your position. From the sketch, you could tell it was a portrait. A rare occurrence, considering Edgar preferred landscapes.

“Why the sudden interest in portraits?” You ask, sitting more comfortably on the couch. Glancing at the shelves, you skim through the books. Edgar wouldn’t mind if you read one of them, right?

The man pauses, his expression almost bashful. It’s so bizarre you can’t help but raise a brow. Edgar has never been afraid to draw attention to himself. He’s no pushover, willing to fight for what he wants while still remaining relatively neutral. To see him like that, a dust of what can only be blush upon his cheeks, twists something in your heart.

Before you can untangle what exactly you were feeling, the painter coughs.

“Well, I tried talking with Victor about expressing oneself. He suggested letters, or other mediums I’m comfortable with. So…” Edgar stares at his canvas, his smile more so a grimace. “I’m trying out his suggestion, I suppose.”

You tilt your head, humming to yourself as you nod. Sliding off the couch, you grab one of the books on Edgar’s shelf. “Well, then I wish you the best of luck.”

His eyes linger on you, closing softly as his expression relaxes. When he opens them again, he starts creating new hues with more focus.

-

“I’ve been getting letters recently.” You mention, flipping another page in your book. Edgar paused, turning to look at you.

“And?”

You closed your eyes, contemplating. This really wasn’t something you had to tell him. But, well, nothing too interesting has been happening lately. The matches have finally grown duller, the thrill fading as you stayed longer. You were running out of things to ramble about, so why not?

“They’re love letters. Nicely decorated, with neat handwriting. If I had to guess, someone born into privilege.” You think Edgar flinches at that.

“It’s really sweet, honestly. A shame they’re anonymous.” You skim over the words on the page, brows knitting themselves tight. The main character was oblivious to the danger so close to them. How frustrating. 

“A shame, really.” Edgar echoes back, delicately brushing shadows along the red camellias. His painting seemed nearly finished, if you only stared at the beautiful flowers. The rest of the canvas was rather barren, a figure still not yet painted whole.

“C’mon, theorize with me! Who could it be? I put my bets on Jack.” You sighed dramatically, head thrown back with your hand on your forehead. 

You received no response, however.

“Hear me out! He called me darling, dear, and tried to kill me. Obviously, he fell for my sick kiting skills and great looks. I rest my case.” Still, nothing.

You were getting really worried with how unresponsive Edgar was being. Usually, when you started overexaggerating like that, he’d make a snarky remark. Something like “please, you get terror shocked at 5 ciphers” or “you make amphibians look appealing.” 

The silence was really getting to you.

“I mean, he’s got confidence in spades so it probably isn’t him. Still, I kinda hope it is, he’s rather attrac–” SNAP!

Your head snaps up from your book, turning to Edgar so quickly you nearly give yourself whiplash. There, in his hands, are the remains of a broken paint brush. Blood oozes from his tightly clenched hands, slowly trickling down his palm and under the cuff of his shirt. That was reason for concern as is, but the most startling thing of all was his eyes.

Blue, like the sky. Blue, like the sea. Blue, like the wings of a morpho butterfly.

Blue, like the swirling vortex of the night sky.

You rush over, grabbing the first aid kit you know he keeps for you, before standing next to him. You’ve never seen him like this, eyes so dark and blank. It’s honestly scaring you a little, but that means nothing when he’s hurt.

So, you kneel, pulling out tweezers, disinfectants, and bandages. Gently prying his hand open, you discard the larger pieces of the brush. With the tweezers, you pick out splinters of wood embedded in his skin. You whisper apologies as you do, knowing this definitely hurts, but he doesn’t so much as flinch.

By the time you finally disinfect his hand and wrap it, Edgar seems a lot more like himself than before. He gazes at you with quiet consideration, blinking slowly. Languid, calm, almost cat-like.

“Are you okay?” You ask, holding his hand. In all the time you’ve known him, you’ve never seen him react like that. The kinder side of you hopes it’ll never happen again, if only so he won’t needlessly hurt himself like that. The morbid side of you wants to see him like that again, what you can distinguish as cold, searing rage threatening to consume him whole.

Edgar leans his head forward and onto your shoulder. The scent of citrus, chamomile, and something chemical tickles your nose, brushing against you as the painter sighs. He seems… tired.

“Let me rest my head, just for a bit.”

You don’t have the heart to say no.

-

The next few letters you get are… odd. Passionate as always, but far more obsessive. The first few had been sweeter, more tender. This was escalating in a weird direction, and as much as you loved yourself a good horror story, romance and horror never mix well. They were starting to threaten you, saying they’d hurt the people around you, and that was where you drew the line.

So, you start ignoring them. It sounds foolish, especially for a connoisseur of all things freaky, but life is more mundane than fiction. If this person doesn’t have the guts to confess to you, does it make sense that they’d have the guts to actually go through with their threats? Logically, no. 

Besides, even if they did, the people of the manor are strong. They can hold their own. Even if they can't, that person will get outcasted for hurting a survivor, regardless of if they’re a hunter. “No violence outside of matches,” that was the first rule both factions set.

So, it was safe to assume you had nothing to worry about. You have more important things to deal with, anyway, especially with a new survivor arriving. His name was Orpheus, a novelist. You were thrilled, especially since he was the author of some of your favorite series.

You were busy with preparations, practically skipping with joy. The other survivors poked fun at you, both for your enthusiasm and the lack of a certain painter at your side.

Edgar was concentrating on his art, as per usual, and you didn’t want to bother him. He seemed a little lonely, though, so you tried to convince a few people to talk to him. They all just looked at you as if you grew another head. 

“Are we… looking at the same person?” Mike asks, smile strained. You frown, turning away from the banners you were fixing. 

“Yes! Edgar Valden, our resident painter, our sassy rich boy, our lovely old friend. I say he is lonely, and I think you should talk to him. I mean, you’re easy-going, fun, and silly. Who wouldn’t like you?” Even if half of it was an act. Still, Mike was one of the people Edgar tolerated better than most. Perhaps it’s because he’s another form of an artist?

“Why can’t you just, I don’t know, talk to him yourself? You guys get along just fine.” Mike looks away, fiddling with his hands. You narrow your eyes at the sight.

Mike Morton, local funny man, someone with dedication and deceit running through his veins, nervous? It’s not faked, the sweat rolling down his neck and the faster breathing all indicating he was genuinely nervous. Maybe even scared.

“Edgar, I really do love him, but he needs more friends. I think the only people who talk to him on a regular basis are Luca and I. Adding a few more people to that list would be nice, so…” You bring your hands in front of you, clasped tight as if you’re about to pray. “Could you please talk to him?”

Mike deflates, sighing as he nods. You smile brightly in response, promising to make it up to him.

-

“Hey bestie! You excited for the new survivor?” Demi croons, grinning as she tosses an arm around your shoulder. You laugh in response, leaning into her.

“That’s about the dumbest thing you could ask me. Of course I am! He’s written so many good books. God, I don’t know how I’m supposed to act around him. He’s made some stories that have basically shaped who I am now!” You sigh, smiling so widely your face hurts.

“Well, don’t forget your boyfriend in all the excitement! I can see he’s basically seething with envy.” 

You pause, turning to look at Demi.

“Who?”

Now, it’s Demi’s turn to look confused.

“Uh, you know, Edgar? Are– are you guys not together?” She asks, genuinely shocked. You feel your face heat up, your hands itching to cover your blush. 

“Wh– no! We are not! Why would anyone ever think that?”

Demi gives you a deadpan expression in response.

“You two are basically glued to each other’s side, go into every match together, hang out almost every day– Hell, you’re the only one Edgar has allowed in his room without it being necessary!” 

Well, that’s news to you.

You furrow your brows, blinking in shock. Sure, you two hung out a lot, but it wasn’t like you guys were friends exclusively with each other. You had Demi, Mike, Melly, and even Violetta while Edgar had Luca, Victor, Andrew, and Galatea. It wasn’t like you… hung out… every… day…

“Oh fuck, we really do look like a couple.” You mutter, having half a mind to smack Demi as she laughs. She’s completely unapologetic about it, struggling to breathe as slowly calms down and giggles.

“So, you two aren’t dating?” She asks, wiggling her eyebrows. You huff, fighting back a smile.

“Nope, not at all.”

“Then in that case, I’m allowed to flirt with you as much as I want!” Demi cheers. She spins you around, causing a laugh to bubble up from your throat. The two of your twirl around in a silly dance, the faint sound of Frederick playing the piano the only background music.

At the end, she dips you down, smile upon her lips. She leans close to your ear as your smile is wiped away.

“Be wary of him.”

-

With Edgar, it’s like you’re taking three steps forward, then five steps back. Just when you think you’ve got him all figured out, he throws a curveball at you.

That desperation he had in his eyes the day you became his friend, flickering like a brilliant flame, you understand it now. However much he claimed he didn’t need people to understand him, how he didn’t need to understand others, it didn’t mean much. He still craved it, to be understood. To not have to be questioned, to not be approached with dishonesty, with intentions that lied beyond just him being him.

You suppose that’s exactly why you got along. You wanted to understand him, and he wanted to be understood. A match made in Heaven, you suppose.

It’s why it miffed you a bit that you really can’t understand Edgar at the moment.

He hates drawing portraits, yet he draws a figure, the same exact one, in every one of his new pieces. They look familiar, a lot like you, but you’re pretty confident Edgar would rather die than paint you. You’d tease him to Hell and back, all while he complains and swears up and down he’s never being nice to you again.

The landscapes, adorned in reds of all shades, always have that figure in each one without fail. Is he in love with someone? That would explain why he’s so weird lately.

Edgar’s odd behavior was already messing with you, but on top of that, the letters were getting worse. Instead of being slid into your mailbox, they were flat out in your room now.

Normal people would think someone just slipped it under the door. Reasonable assumption. However, unless that person has not only a very thin arm, but a long one, you don’t know how they’d manage to get it all the way to your desk.

You stare at the white envelope, stamped shut with a red seal in the shape of a camellia. The outline of the flower is in gold, though the beauty of the letter and the seal means nothing. Not when it got into your room. Not when it clearly has a splotch of dark red glaring at you.

Your hands are shaky as you open the envelope, a familiar curl of thrill fighting with your new found protective instincts. The letter is white as a dove, the red tainting it made all the more stark.

With adrenaline coursing through your veins, you read.

‘I didn’t imagine love would be like this. Wonderfully warm, like the rays of the sun in winter, and unbearably painful, like a knife in my heart. Do you just like hurting me? No, I know that isn’t true. After all, you always look at me with concern when I’m injured. Still, it’s hard to believe you’re this dense.

These past few weeks have been driving me mad. Your attention has been solely on the arrival of the new survivor. You’ve been ignoring me so much I can barely stand it. Can’t you spare even a moment for me? Is that novelist really that important? Seeing you look at him with stars in your eyes… it makes me want to rip his head off his shoulders. He doesn’t deserve your attention, nor your admiration, not like I do. I’ve known you longer, loved you for longer. He doesn’t deserve anything from you, yet he gets everything I could ever want and more.

Did you know? When you’re excited, your smile turns bigger, more genuine, till dimples show. Your eyes crinkle just a little, your hands moving to curl in front of your chest. You stand taller, you shine brighter.

It’s such a beautiful sight, I hate that I have to share it. Sometimes, I wish I could just put you in a cage and never let you go. Then, you wouldn’t look at anyone else but me. You wouldn’t think about anyone else but me. But, that’s not how you should live. You deserve to be free and happy. So, I’ve decided to get rid of anyone that doesn’t deserve to be around you.

I think I’ll start with that novelist.’

Your blood runs cold.

Fuck.

FUCK.

Just who is this? Who are they and just why are they so obsessed with you? Get rid of those who don’t deserve you? Who gave them the right to decide that!?

You take a deep breath, desperately trying to calm your nerves. Your heart is racing, and for the first time, the thrill in your heart turns into true fear.

You’ve never minded being the one hunted. In fact, you practically adore it, the addicting rush of adrenaline pumping through you. It’s why you came to the manor. But your friends? They’re not the same, and you wouldn’t want them to be. You want them safe and happy, not hunted down by some freak who thinks they “aren’t worthy of you” for whatever sick reason.

“Fuck, fuck… Orpheus, I need to find– no, it’s probably too late for him, there’s blood on the letter. Okay, okay, stay calm, stay fucking calm. Who would be the next victim? Mike? Melly? No, it’s probably Ed–” You pause.

Almost comically, everything clicks in place.

Camellias.

Red.

Ignoring them.

Edgar.

You bolt out of your room.

-

Normally, you’d knock. You know Edgar hates it when people barge into his room. However, considering the circumstances, you think that’s the least of your concerns.

You can’t help but pray in your mind. To whom? You don’t know. You don’t think anyone can truly help in this situation. It couldn’t be anyone else but Edgar, but still, you prayed. You hoped against all hope that your conclusion was wrong. 

Edgar would scold you for barging in, sigh, before smiling and asking if you were really that desperate to see him. Everything would be fine. It would all be just a cruel joke.

But just as life is more mundane than fantasy, reality is far cruller than fiction.

The large windows to Edgar’s room let in the light of the falling sun, casting the room in many shades of gold and orange. In the middle of the room, in all his glory, is Edgar. His back is to you, paint brush in hand. You’re hit first by relief, then with the heavy scent of iron.

You shake, hands covering your mouth as you finally process what's around Edgar. Orpheus, drained of blood, head sat on a chair, body left haphazardly on the ground. Jack, ghastly white and face twisted, his horror eternally memorialized in death. Demi, eyes closed and serene, seemingly asleep if not for the purple veins that roam along her arms.

You fall to your knees, the shock hitting you so strong you can’t stand up any longer. He was your secret admirer. The one who kept sending letters. The one who went into your room just to place them on your desk. The one who threatened to kill your friends. The one who did kill your friends.

Edgar, finally, turns around. His cheek has splotches of blood on it, his hands no better. It’s startling just how much of it is on him, but worse yet, you know not all of it is on him. There’s a lot of blood in a human body, much more in two, so where was it?

When he smiles, it’s just as sweet as it was yesterday. And the day before. And the day before that. Was this really your friend, or a demon in disguise?

His smile, ever so sweet, only serves to unsettles you, looking more like a nightmare.

“Ah, you’re here! Come, I need to show you my newest masterpiece.” Edgar steps closer to you, dragging you by the hand to a canvas you hadn’t noticed before. He was standing in front of it, so it was only natural.

You numbly follow, heart in your throat. You’re grateful, distantly, that the “masterpiece” is not the corpses of your friends. You think you’re going to throw up, eyes trying to look at anything but them.

So, you gladly look at his so-called masterpiece.

You really wish you didn’t.

There, on the canvas, is a portrait. This time, it’s so painfully obvious it’s you that you can’t even deny it. Surrounded by red camellias, hands curled in front of their chest, with a smile so genuine, dimples showed. Eyes crinkled, back straight, and God, did it have to be so accurate?

The red of the camellias are familiar, as is the red of your blush, the colors of your clothes, your hair. 

It’s all been painted using your friend’s blood.

Edgar comes behind you, his arms circling your waist. A content sigh leaves him, his chin resting on your shoulder. His hold is gentle, but firm, possessive in a way you never thought him capable of. His lips brush against your neck, a kiss much like a collar pressed into your skin. You can feel them curl into a smile.

“What do you think, my muse? The red means I love you.”

[earls-wife]

La Sein

Hi lovelies! It's been a minute hasn't it? But I'm here with a piece that I spent more time than I should have on. It combines several short drabbles that wouldn't play nice so I meshed them all in together for this piece. I think it turned out well. What do you think?

Warnings: yelling, pinning, mention of jewel toned eyes (there are many gems but some are picky about detailed readers so here's your warning)

Astré= OCiel. (See my page for why)

As always, female reader.

Lyrics from La Sein from Monster in Paris

La Sein

She's respondent, so confident la Sein, la Sein, la Sein. I realize, I'm hypnotized la Sein, la Sein, la Sein.

I hadn't expected to find it.

My heart. Sewn to the gown of a glimmering gem. That gem sparked with a fire that warmed the cold abyss within me. She was anything but plain despite the simplicity she adorned herself in. Her laugh defied the stars and the faces that dared to look upon her glory.

I couldn't look away from such a creature as she. So far from the darkness. I was beguiled. In the shadows I dwelled among the underworlds devouts. My eyes watched her, my heart pinned to her gown.

I hear the moon, singing a tune la Sein, la Sein, la sein. Is she divine, is it the wine la sein la Sein la Sein.

The wine is sweet tonight, red as the color on her lips that teased to me. How could I resist such sweet minstration that heaved it's weight onto my chest, drowning me.

I shouldn't feel this way, I shouldn't entertain such pleasures. I shouldn't watch her, yet I cannot look away.

"You are the Lord Phantomhive correct?" She asked me, her eyes dancing with the candles flame, bleeding into my soul. A soul that I hadn't known to breathe in a decade or more.

"Obviously." I bit at her gentle smirk that only caused more color to blossom in my body. She strangled me, pulling wanting moans of desire out of the abyss I lied in.

I don't know, don't know. So don't ask me why. That's how we are la Sein and I.

We danced that night. I, tripping to follow such grace. Mouth dry and in need of the water her lips offered like a bubbling spring, yet her tongue burned. Fire. How despondent of a monster I am. Undone by a mere flash of her jeweled eyes. Eagerly trailing behind such a master of hearts all the while hating myself.

I can't get out, she has me. I can't stay away from my heart now that she's returned the annoying thing to me. I never wanted it back. She should have stayed away. Yet, she bends in my arms and meets my eyes with no fear. What being would dare to meet my eye?

I don't know, don't know. So don't ask me why. That's how we are la Sein and I.

"She's stunning of course my lord, but is she really the bride you desire?" A Baron asked me. The billard room smoking with cigar waste.

"How precious you two would be, side by side two turtle doves cooing in harmony." Count Druitt, another monster of a different breed then me, chattered. His eyes sparking on a grotesque idea no doubt.

"She has no station, she's a dollar princess!" Another exclaims while I smile striking the cue ball against the colorful array of future points I would devour. Each one mine. She was mine.

I feel alive, when I'm beside la Sein la Sein la Sein. I realize, I'm hypnotized la sein la Sein la Sein.

I didn't plan this. I didn't want to fall for him. I knew the rumors and I knew he was no good. There was no charity in his soul, nor was there such a thing as mercy. Merciless was the tone at which he played life. Revenge to humiliate and destroy. Everything he touched deteriorated, yet I could only crave more of it.

A touch of hands encased in gloves, a demonic grin snuck into the color of his eye. How was I to fight a monster I couldn't not see within him? No matter what he said to warn me away, I didn't see what he saw. Not anymore.

How long has it been? Days? Weeks? Months? When had I become so accustomed to the shadow at my shoulder, looming as a black cat upon the ledge of moonlight. A hunter that watched me with a gaze that made my world tremble with life.

Queen's Guard Dog they called him. Lord of the Underworld to another tune, and I his lady. I couldn't help myself, he captured me with that unwavering eye.

I don't know, don't know. So don't ask me why, that's how we are la Sein and I.

"You can't marry her!" Marquis Midford, his uncle by marriage, bellowed. His face changing to a subtle color. Not a loud individual, it was clear this was unacceptable to the tolerant man.

"She'll be the end of your good name!" His cousin Edward held his sister, Elizabeth, as she sobbed into his arms. The raised curl of his lip showed teeth. "Come to your senses cousin!"

"She's nothing." Count Druitt, the fruity tart he was sat in whimsy bemused by the ordeal.

"Nephew reconsider this foolishness." Marquess Midford narrowed her steel eyes on him. Her hand on his cane stopping him from leaving.

"I'm sorry Aunt. There's no one else." Astré replied before making his escape. Cane left behind.

I don't know, don't know. so don't ask me why, that's how we are la Sein and I.

"Your eloping?" The maid asked blinking at her lady.

"Yes. Hurry please we must pack quickly." She replied tossing several items into a chest. "Who knows how much time we have."

"It's risky."

"Its fate."

"Your father-"

"He will understand, just as Astré's family will. Someday."

"As you say my lady, as you say."

Upon the bridge.

My heart does beat

Between the waves

We will be saved

The air we breathe

Can you believe?

Learn to forgive, upon the bridge

That's how we are la Sein and I

That's how we are la Sein and I

We had escaped, my heart and I. Call me selfish or a fool. That I had dragged the vey creature of life from the sky into the depths. Oh how she sang in those depths. For me, she was mine. For her, I was hers. That is just how we are. My Lady and I.

Dictionary:

-Dollar Princess: a term used in the 1800-1900 time frame to refer to a foreign rich woman of non-noble descent who participated in the London season to find a husband. These girls were looked down on for their lack of status but desired for their huge dowries their fathers were willing to pay in exchange for marrying into aristocracy. These girls were the way many American tycoons and millionaires got around the American law against aristocracy titles in the new world as well as gaining more power amongst their own circles. The English would gain funds long overdue to provide for their failing estates as the world progressed beyond them. The dollar princess was the saving grace of many families during that time.

[winter-tdp]

Characters' name meanings

Leola-loyal,faithful,lion

Opeli-Opal gem

Callum-Dove

Aaravos-Between light and dark

Claudia-Lame, enclosure

Rayla-Wise guardian, ewe, female sheep

Ezran-A helper, one who aids others

Corvus-Raven

Soren-Stern, strict, severe

Viren-Hero, brave

Harrow-(no meaning as a first name)

Runaan-Pure soul

Ethari-Luminous, radiant, bright, brilliant

Lain-Wool

Tiadrin-(Can't find name meaning)

Nyx-Night

Villads-Desiring battle

Elmer-Noble, famous

Finnegrin-(Can't find name meaning)

Lujanne-Silver

Barius-Free man, baron

Amaya-The end, mother city, heavenly valley

Janai-God has answered

Karim-Generous, honourable

Miyana-Star of the sea

Aanya-Grace, precious, unique

Sarai-Palace, master, princess, releaser

Zubeia-Beauty

Azymondias-Colossal, tyrant

Kosmo-Order, organisation, beauty

Astrid-Divinely beautiful, beloved of the gods

Terry-Ruler of the people

Ibis-long-legged bird

Lissa-Bee, honeybee, God is my oath

Gren-Branch

Know you know what their names mean you're welcome for this random post

[radioactivepeasant]

Snippets: Free Day Thursday

Ok, part 2!

Part One Here

(Warning for brief violence)

"Okay!" Daxter snapped, flinging a piece of a lever to the ground in disgust, "That is the last time I ever, ever, touch any more stupid Precursor crap!"

Jak would have responded, but he couldn't tear his eyes away from the strange place they had fallen into. Hard stone covered the ground in even, flat surfaces, like walking paths made of one solid piece. They matched the gray of drab huts built four or five levels high -- fortresses? -- with equally flat tops and windows covered in a thin, reflective material of some kind. Everything smelled like rotting garbage and the exhaust fumes of his zoomer! What kind of dead ruin was this?

A ruin, perhaps, but hardly a dead one.

Zoomers in bright colors and sleek shapes darted back and forth overhead, mesmerizing the small boy. There were more people on them than he'd ever seen in his life! People walked along the streets in crowds! Was this what Uncle called "city"? It was so much bigger than the villages! And if he stood on the tips of his toes, Jak could see more structures that were even taller!

"There he is!" a harsh voice rang out.

A group of -- were they people? They were covered in armor with goggles that reminded Jak of the giant Precursor robot -- marched towards him, carrying strange weapons. The long, thin things reminded him of the Yellow Sage's blunderbuss. Some forgotten instinct told him that these things were deadly, and never to be played with.

Why were they coming towards him? Had he done something wrong?

Oh no! The broken pieces of the Rift vehicle must have hurt someone!

"Move in!"

In mere seconds, the red warriors had completely surrounded them. Part of Jak wanted to fight, but if they were just protecting their city from what probably looked like an attack, maybe it would be better to stay calm. Jak didn't want to find out what those weapons could do at such close range. But as the circle closed around him, Jak looked up into the face of their leader, and his stomach turned.

This wasn't a misunderstanding. These people were looking for trouble. The tattooed man smirking down at him had the same unreasonable gleam in his eye as Gol Acheron. He didn’t want to talk. He was going to hurt them whether or not they gave him a reason.

Jak took a step back without thinking as his pulse began to thunder in his ears.

What does he want? I didn't do anything to him! Why is he looking at us like that?!

"Step away from the animal!" barked a soldier.

Whoever they were, they understood that Jak was more powerful with Daxter supplementing his attacks. But Jak had never seen these people in his life!

Had he?

The boy cast a frantic look down at Daxter as a soldier began to move towards him.

Run! Run, Daxter!

With a shriek, the ottsel dodged the armored hand and dove between the man's legs.

"GO GO GO!" he screeched, darting off down a side street.

But Jak couldn't follow. The men crowded closer, fencing him in as their sneering leader snapped, "Forget the rat! The Baron wants him!"

Me? Why?! What's a Baron?!

A cruel smile twisted the leader's face as he signaled the man beside Jak.

"We've been waiting for you," he cooed.

Something slammed into the side of Jak's head, dropping him like a stone. Lights danced behind his eyes, and he couldn't think past the pain. Why? Why were they doing this? Were they friends of the Acherons? Rough hands grabbed him by the arms and dragged him to his feet, ignoring his soft whimper. He had to escape. Had to find Daxter. Somehow Jak knew that if he let these people take him, he might never see his friends again.

His throat pulsed and spasmed, but he couldn't force the sound past the lock in his mouth, couldn't cry out for help. Someone! Please, please stop them! Precursors! Somebody!

Somebody answered.

There was an awful, wet sound. Claws through cloth, and flesh, and the horrible, high screams that always followed.

Jak knew that sound. When the Lurkers attacked village outskirts and Samos sent him to clean up the mess, he'd learned what it sounded like when someone was being ripped apart.

His head was swimming, but Jak forced himself to look up. Through leaking eyes he caught the blurry figure of a...a someone, covered in armor. Their head -- or maybe a helmet? Hopefully a helmet -- looked like the skull of the monsters that had flown out of the Rift Gate, complete with the shining yellow thing on the forehead. They were attacking the leader man, the one who hadn't been wearing as much armor as the others.

It seemed the leader wasn't accustomed to close quarters fighting.

He screeched again as the newcomer raked long claws down his face, then bodily lifted him. With a grunt that sounded more human than monster, the creature flung its victim into the soldiers surrounding Jak just as they raised their weapons. There were three flashes of light at once, then panicked shouting and more screaming. The eco that shot out of their weapons had hit their leader as he was thrown, by the sounds of the yelling. "Commander Errol" continued to scream like he was dying. He probably was.

Abruptly the two men holding his arms let go. Still disoriented, Jak staggered and fell to his hands and knees. More yellow eco blasts roared over his head, adding to the ringing in his ears, and the stench of blood grew stronger. Maybe he could crawl out of the way, escape down the side street Daxter took. Maybe-

The creature shot out a red hand and caught Jak by the wrist, pulling him to his feet so quickly his head spun and his stomach lurched. He tried to pull free, but the monster's grip tightened.

"Can you run?"

A man's voice. Was it a creature? Or was this more armor?

Jak wobbled and groaned, and the man-thing seemed to take that as an answer. Without another word, he ducked down to sweep Jak's legs off the ground. He bundled him close to his blood-spattered breastplate and began to run. The jarring of boots against stone did nothing to allay the pounding in Jak’s head, radiating from where the red soldier had hit him. What on earth was happening to him?!

"Hold on tight, Jak. Going to get a little tricky here," his rescuer said.

Wait. He knew Jak's name? How did he know Jak's name?! Did he know one of the sages? Maybe the Yellow Sage, since he seemed like some kind of wild man. If he knew the sages, he'd know how to get back to Sandover! Jak struggled to make a sound the man would recognize as a word or question. Grownups never understood signs, why would this one be different?

"Wait, Jak. We're not safe yet," said the man sternly.

Jak stilled. Whoever this was, he didn't sound like the kind of person you ignored.

Streets flew by as the man ran down alleys and around more corners than he could count. Then his steps slowed. There was something metallic and green -- one of those unusual zoomers that had been flying around, wide enough for two people -- sitting unattended. The man made an exclamation of triumph and hurried over to it. He deposited Jak into one of the seats with a surprising gentleness, fastening two strange belts over his chest with a click.

"That commander's access pass will get us into the agricultural sector," his rescuer said, as if that meant anything to him, "then we'll be out of the city and into the forest. Just stay close to me, no matter what, understand?"

Jak stared at his mask with wide eyes and didn't answer. The man sighed, rattling behind the skull.

"I know. I know you don't recognize me, little one."

Strange, he sounded kind of sad.

"I promise, I'll explain what's going on when we're in the forest. Now: hold onto something."

The wide zoomer, it turned out, was a lot faster than his a-grav zoomer back home. It could hover a lot higher, too. If Jak's head didn't still ache, he would have been a lot more interested in the vehicle. But as it stood, he was pretty sure he was going to throw up. Was this how Daxter felt when they were running around?

Nah. Daxter was one of the toughest people Jak knew. He could roundhouse kick a Lurker in the face and flip back onto Jak’s shoulder without even getting dizzy!

Wait! Daxter!

Frantically, Jak waved his hands as the zoomer careened through and around other drivers, scraping paint more than once. Even though he didn't expect an answer, he signed, "Go back! Go back, my friend is back there!"

Predictably, the man did not go back. But to Jak’s surprise, he did answer.

"We're not going back," he grunted, throwing the craft into a climb that left the engine straining. "That plaza will be swarming with guards now."

Then, a little gentler, he added, "Don't worry so much about Daxter. He's a smart boy, he knows how to keep himself safe until someone comes for him."

Not only did this person know who Jak was, he knew Daxter?

A smart boy. He called Daxter a smart boy.

No one had ever said anything that nice about his best friend before. Especially not adults. Jak had never understood why everyone but Ollie and Mrs. Perch seemed to hate Daxter so much, but it had always frightened him. If they hated a kid who never did anything to them, that meant Jak was on a tightrope every day to keep them from deciding to hate him, too.

But the scary man who grabbed him, he knew Daxter's name. He didn't call him a rat or an animal, he called him a boy! He called him smart! Jak’s previous fear began to melt away. Anyone who talked about his best friend like that had to be a nice person, right? And he was a fun driver, too! Too bad Jak's stomach was trying to crawl up his throat at the moment.

After a tense few seconds, the zoomer leveled out and shot past a fancy fountain, over the heads of people in nicer clothes than what Jak had seen before. A few shook their fists and complained as they flew past. Slate gray paths gave way to the first green he'd seen since first getting into the Rift craft. A long, narrow expanse of grass held several plots of unusually large produce. The plots were being tended by exhausted looking people in much dirtier clothes than the people by the fountain. They didn't even glance up when the zoomer sped by.

They pulled to a stop at a high, forbidding wall. The door shaped vaguely like a skull only added to the sense of foreboding around it, as if it was a warning. A quick glance around revealed that the wall extended as far as Jak could see, so high that nothing was visible beyond it. How could these people stand it? It must be like living at the bottom of a silo!

Jak was snapped from his thoughts by the man yanking the strap things off him with a click and pulling him out of the zoomer. It took him a moment to get his feet under him, but at least he didn't feel like he was going to tip over.

"Hurry," said the man tersely. Almost as if he wasn't thinking about it, he reached down and took hold of Jak's hand. He tugged Jak after him and walked swiftly towards the door.

"Not a little kid!" Jak protested with his free hand as best as he could.

Although, he had a feeling his rescuer could argue to the contrary, considering Jak barely stood as high as the man's ribcage.

"Now leaving Haven City," said a woman's voice above their heads as the door rolled shut behind them. Jak looked around for a talk-box, but couldn't tell where the lady was speaking from. "Haven", eh? Didn't seem like much of a Haven to Jak.

A second door opened in front of them, and a weight lifted off of Jak's shoulders.

Trees, ancient and massive, sprawled across hills and around a creek running placidly down to a lake. Nature didn't care about soldiers and cities and people hurting each other. Nature kept growing and being born and dying and being reborn in an eternal cycle of eco. It was a relief to see none of those entombing walls before them. Strange though, Jak didn't see any signs of wildlife. One bird chirruped several trees away, but everything else was eerily quiet.

The armored man lifted an oddly shaped talk-box to his ear and turned away from Jak.

"Satellite One, this is Lighthouse. We're clear."

"Copy that, Lighthouse. Wait, who's "we"?"

"Oh. Jak. The kid Praxis was trying to ambush?"

"Kid?! Wait, you didn't tell me you were going to grab someone's kid!"

"Don't worry about it," the man said casually, "Focus on the mission."

The person calling themselves Satellite One was quiet for a second, then relented. "...right. I'll...I'll bring him home, Damas. I swear it."

"If anyone can, it's you." The man -- Day-maz? Is that what Satellite called him? -- put the talk box away and took in a deep breath through his nose. Then he pivoted to kneel in front of Jak.

"Alright, let's have a look at you."

He unlatched the mask or helmet and slid it off, revealing a human face beneath a hood. He pushed it off and shook his ears free with a grumble.

"Bah. This disguise is a necessary evil but I can't say I'll be sad to see it go."

The clawed gloves followed, and then rough brown fingers lifted Jak's chin carefully, checking for injuries.

"Look up? Good. Pupils...ah, mmhm. Jak, can you tell me if you feel dizzy or nauseous right now?"

"Yes."

Thin, almost invisible eyebrows rose over violet eyes. "Yes you can tell me, or yes you feel dizzy?"

"Yeah, that one." Jak frowned. "There's no birds."

The Day-mas man released Jak's face and clicked his tongue. "Well, you may have a mild concussion, little one."

Jak's ears drooped a few seconds after the words caught up to him. Aw man! But those take forever to go away without eco!

The thought of avoiding running and climbing for a few weeks was torture!

"There's a green eco vent a couple miles into the woods if we keep going northwest. For a slight brain injury you really need a full vent, but I can give you a little now to make walking easier."

The man pulled off more of the scaly armor and searched around a belt full of pouches before coming up with a tube of some kind of paste.

"Hold still."

Eco in paste?! How did he get it into a jelly?! It sat cold on Jak’s skin, numbing the place the guard had slammed his weapon into. Jak shivered as his mind cleared a bit. With the adrenaline beginning to wear off, he was starting to notice the cold. He'd need to find some yellow eco to raise his core temperature. Absentminded, he signed a thanks to the man and looked around.

"Who are you?" he asked, then belatedly remembered to add, "How do you know me and Daxter?"

With a weird, sad, smile, the man sat back on his heels. "My name is Damas," he said quietly, and then spelled it with his hand.

"You sign?!"

Jak thought adults just weren't capable of understanding signs!

"Yes," Damas signed back, "It's very common where I come from. Come, we need to get you more eco. Explanations can wait until you are fully healed."

He stood and held out a hand.

"I'm not a baby!" Jak complained, but he took the offered hand anyway.

Damas chuckled warmly. "No, you're not a baby. But you are quite small, compared to me. I wouldn't want you to get lost out here in the unknown. You never know what you'll run into out here in the woods."

"No birds," Jak commented again, frowning into bushes and trees as he was tugged along.

Entirely too cheerfully, Damas answered, "No, no birds. You're keeping track of your surroundings, good! There are predators nearby that have scared them off."

"Wha?!" Jak yelped, looking around again.

Damas squeezed his hand and began to make his way along the creek. "You don't need to worry about them, alright? I won't let anything hurt you, I promise."

Jak made a skeptical sound, but squeezed back and let himself be guided deeper into the woods, and further away from the world he'd left behind.

[shegatsby]

Love Thy Enemy

Summary; Y/N Atreides had always been a stranger to the entire galaxy, her bed wasn’t her bed, her home wasn’t her home due to the fact that she was sent to accompany and be sisters with Irulan. She had limited access to her actual family and over the years they grew distant. She thought she would be like Reverend Mother, alone, yet powerful, and soon she would realize that there was no need of being alone when a wild creature had his eyes on her for a long time.

A/n; Hi little doves, how are you?! I've missed you so much and here i am. Let me know what you think of this chapter. xxx

TAG LIST IS OPEN! (let me know if i forgot to tag you)

Warnings; Baron being a pedo, he is a pedo in the books and i wanted to keep it that way. Little bit of NSFW!

Words; 4.708K

Chapter Seven ''The Wedding''

Y/N Atreides found herself laying flat back on his bed, alone. After their small exchange of comfort Feyd Rautha didn’t say anything but left her to sleep in the living room section. Y/N changed, got ready and she noticed she was stumbling in the bed chambers, walking around, brushing her hair slowly but why? After some time she huffed in annoyance trying to get rid of what happened today from start to finish. She had bigger problems such as her wedding in two days. She turned on her side, curled up into a fetus position and closed her weary eyes.

Feyd Rautha Harkonnen was sweating under the Black sun of Giedi Prime, he had his morning training with his coach, an ex commander from Salusa Secundus, at his prime he used to crush men’s skulls with his bare hands, now he was an old man and transferring his skills to younger generations. Baron himself bought this man to guide Feyd in combat.

A strong hit came to his cheek, ‘’You seem distracted, Na-Baron.’’ Feyd heard the man’s rough voice, indeed he was distracted. ‘’Is it because of the stupid fight you had with your brother or.. something else?’’ the old man attacked again but Feyd was able to block it. ‘’I’m fine.’’ He growled in distress, sweating under the hot sun, ‘’Then prove it.’’ The man was skilled at getting under his skin too. Feyd launched at the man, he was screaming. The sun was boiling him like an egg, he had pent up rage within him and he unleashed the beast. The old man’s face turned into Rabban’s in his twisted mind and Feyd attacked religiously. At the end of the training the old man was on the floor with a bleeding face and he was laughing, ‘’Well done boy,’’ he was out of breath, ‘’Bring that to the upcoming battles at the arena for your wedding.’’

Harkonnen custom was to fight on your wedding day to prove to your wife that you can protect her and defend her no matter what. With the old man’s words Feyd’s mind altered a vision, a dream, last night he had a taste of fighting for someone, someone he is going to share his life with and he liked it. The animalistic instincts in him were triggered since that night and when they shared that soft moment between them last night he internally promised to himself that he is going to protect his wife no matter the outcome is.

He left the training grounds, his routine was to go to the baths to shower and relax, his legs were taking him there but his mind was too occupied to notice his surroundings, he marched to the bath chambers and closed the door behind him, ‘’Hello nephew.’’ Came the Baron’s voice, Feyd composed himself in a second. His uncle was in the stone bathtub, smoking, Feyd could see his ugly form.

‘’Hello uncle.’’ He said with a flat tone, and he walked to the bathtub, he wanted to be alone but he couldn’t leave now, his uncle would get suspicious. ‘’Seeing your disposition your training was successful.’’ He motioned to Feyd’s sweaty and muscular chest, ‘’Yes uncle. It was successful.’’ He repeated his uncle. ‘’Get in the tub. You deserve to relax now, perhaps take a servant to your room eh?’’ he laughed with his raspy voice, Feyd had to laugh with him, he took off his pants under his uncle’s curious eyes and got into the tub. Feyd leaned his back on the stone and closed his eyes, arms spread wide on the stone, ‘’Rumor has it that you haven’t visited any of your ‘’darlings’’ are they entertaining you anymore?’’ his uncle asked, Feyd knew that whenever Baron opened his mouth to speak he had a motive, his words hid something underneath, ‘’I have been busy recently.’’ He replied, his eyes closed, ‘’How does your wife-to-be take the news of your darling, is she jealous?’’

Feyd didn’t think to bother Y/N with this detail but if his uncle is mentioning it, it meant that she would be hearing it soon, ‘’I do not care what she thinks, as long as she does her duty then I shall be content.’’ He opened his azure eyes to face his uncle and caught him staring at his chest, ‘’Good boy. I expect great things from you Feyd and you have never failed me. Keep up the good work son.’’

Tomorrow was their wedding day and Y/N was occupied heavily, seamstress and other servants kept coming and going to her, getting measurements, talking about the design and the color scheme and the guests… ‘’Of course you must be ready to greet the Na-Baron after he wins the battle in your name..’’

‘’I do apologies but,’’ Y/N turned to face the servant girl, ‘’What battle?’’

Servants looked at each other before one of them bowed her head and spoke, ‘’In order to prove himself that he is the protector and provider.. Na-Baron will fight in the arena, for you.’’

Y/N never asked for a battle, whenever she runs from blood the blood follows her, she never asked to watch prisoners die before her eyes and the fact that  it would be on her wedding day.. she calmed herself with a Bene Gesserit trick. ‘’Thank you for the information.’’ She smiled kindly and continued with her day.

With a huff she walked into the living room, her skirts swirling, she shut the door and leaned her forehead on the cool metal, yes, the doors were metal.. like a prison.

‘’Long day I assume?’’ a raspy voice startled her, she turned to face the owner of that voice that haunts her dreams. He was sitting on the dining table’s chair, the table was set, candles lit, he leaned his back on the chair, his shirt looking tight on his chest. He gestured to the empty chair at the opposite top of the table, ‘’Sit.’’ She didn’t say anything, this was the first encounter after their soft ending of yesterday night, his face looked better, perhaps his doctor gave him medicine to make his wounds heal quicker.

She sat. The meat on the table smelled delicious and her mouth started watering, ‘’Please,’’ he gestured again to the table, ‘’eat. I bet you didn’t eat much today.’’

‘’I was busy.’’ She said and started her dinner, ‘’I figured.’’ He said in short, she was surprised that he wasn’t tormenting her. ‘’Are you-‘’ she began but stopped when she caught his complete attention.

He looked puzzled when she stopped herself, ‘’Please, continue.’’ She heard him say please two times in few minutes, was the galaxy dying? Was it Doomsday?

She kept her hands busy with cutting the meat, ‘’You seem tired.’’ She said with a flat tone, the meat she was dealing with looked more interesting than Feyd’s surprised face, if only she looked up to meet his azure gaze.

‘’Is someone worried about her husband?’’ his mocking tone came back, ‘’You are not my husband.’’ It was her generic response. ‘’Aren’t you tired little dove, tomorrow is our wedding day after all.’’ He drank his wine, enjoying cornering her, ‘’I cannot wait to become a widow.’’ She snapped back and earned his laughter, he enjoyed this banter dearly, ‘’Finish your dinner, I want to take you somewhere.’’

Y/N panicked for a second, ‘’Where?’’ she asked immediately, ‘’It’s a surprise.’’  He whispered jokingly.

It was late at night, full moon casting mysterious shadow, it wasn’t cold and yet she could feel her hands go ice, maybe it was because of unknown intentions of Feyd or maybe she felt the slight breeze. Feyd and Y/N were walking side by side, their shoes made echoes in the corridors, halls, guards were present at certain doors and they had their night shifts but they were so silent and blend in with the black walls Y/N felt as if her and Feyd were the only residence of the fortress. His hands were behind his back, ‘’Where are we going?’’ she couldn’t help her curiosity. Feyd stopped in his tracks, turned his face to the side, Y/N took a step back, ‘’Curiosity killed the cat.’’ He said mockingly but she could sense the irritation underneath so she didn’t reply and kept following him.

Feyd-Rautha had been planning and organizing this since Y/N first stepped foot on Giedi Prime, it was hard work but he managed to pull it off and he did it under the radar, he made some excuses for it so that his uncle wouldn’t search for a deeper meaning.

Together they walked out of the fortress to the barren courtyard, Giedi Prime’s courtyard was nothing but stone, few marble status and that’s it. Y/N noticed how quiet it was, guards were scarce and it was late, she was getting more suspicious with each passing second. The stars were bright, almost like glowglobs hanging in the sky to show them the path.

Feyd now was making her walk through shadows, and they reached to a glass door, he stepped away and extended his hand to the door, ‘’Would you like to do the honors?’’ he said and waited for her to open the glass door. It was dark and all she saw was the handle of the door, she opened the door and walked in. For a second the darkness continued until Feyd also walked inside and hit the switch for the glowglobes inside and Y/N had to close her eyes, it was too bright all of a sudden and when she opened her eyes she could feel her mouth open with shock.

They were inside of a garden filled with flowers and small trees from Caladan and Kaitain, the fresh smell hit her nostrils in a pleasing way, she had dreams where she walked in the gardens of Kaitain and her dream now came true, she slowly walked among the plants, flowers, there was a fountain in the middle of the garden, it was white marble and had fishes in it, everything inside made her peaceful.

‘’I didn’t know this place existed.’’ She said smelling a red rose, ‘’It didn’t.’’

Y/N turned to him, looking puzzled, ‘’I have arranged this,’’ he began, coming closer to her, he came to a stop in front of her, ‘’for you.’’ He confessed, his head low, suddenly the soil ground looked more interesting to him than her pretty eyes. Maybe he didn’t want to find any confrontation or rejection.

Y/N had no idea what to say or even react to his kind gesture, her Bene Gesserit mind immediately looked for any strategy or profit, why would he do something like this if he has no gain from it? However, a dark corner in her mind whispered to her that he did this for her comfort and to see her happy and content, she had been going through a lot especially with the rude comments of  Rabban…

He dared to see her reaction with his yearning blue orbits, her face soften when she saw his expression, he looked like a lost little boy, the boy she had met years ago.

‘’Feyd I-‘’ she began but failed to express how grateful she was, be that as it may, her hands went to his pale face, caressing gently, Feyd’s touched starved soul leaned in to her touch, of course he had been touched many times he was yearning for this kind of touch; soft, gentle and nurturing.

Y/N smiled, ear to ear, ‘’Even though we aren’t in good terms most of the time… this means a lot to me.’’ She finally said. ‘’Thank you Feyd.’’

Feyd started to take slow steps towards her, ‘’Say it again.’’ He begged, she could feel his hot breath on her face, she had to take steps back because of his movements towards her and she felt herself cornered between him and a tree, ‘’Feyd..’’ her hand still on his face, ‘’Again.’’ He demanded, his voice getting raspier and lower, his breathing getting quicker, ‘’Feyd-Rautha..’’ she whispered with her soft voice, so soft it made his insides melt, he was so close he could smell her fresh and sweet scent, her hair thick and long, his hand went to touch it. He was mesmerized every time, the texture of her hair was so soft it made him feel like he was touching pure silk.

Y/N lowered her hands and let him touch her hair, when he started to massage her scalp gently she closed her eyes, a soft moan leaving her shiny lips, Feyd smirked in victory. She was wearing a baby blue gown, fabric tight around her body and making her curves look dominant, he could see the cleavage of her chest, his mouth was watering but he had to keep himself for he promised to himself that she had to come to him, willingly. When he stopped massaging her scalp she opened her eyes in protest, fire in her eyes, ‘’The garden isn’t the only thing I want to give you.’’ He said and his hand went to his pocket, he showed her a golden ring with obsidian stone, ‘’It was my mother’s, now it’s yours.’’ And he took her left hand to place the ring, Y/N mind went to the knowledge she had of his parents’, was it a good time to ask? She decided that it wasn’t time or the place for that conversation but Feyd sensed her trouble, ‘’You don’t like the ring?’’ he asked with defense in his tone, ‘’No, no. I love it. I just.. I don’t have anything to give you.’’ Feyd chuckled, his hand went to caress her cheek, ‘’You are giving your hand in marriage to me. That is more than enough.’’ She was relieved, ‘’Although,’’ he began with a cunning smile, his eyes shining like a predator on a hunt, Y/N raised her eyebrows in question, ‘’a kiss would suffice.’’

Y/N wasn’t shocked to see his boldness, but why now? Her mind was racing like a race horse, she was comparing pros and cons, over the days he was getting more and more nice but there were things he did in the past such as beheading a servant because she refused to dine with him, but he defend her against Rabban who is his flesh and blood. And now they were standing in the garden he had built for her…

Y/N’s hands went to his face again and she kissed his plump lips, his lips felt so welcoming that she kept kissing him but her intention was to just give him a quick kiss. Feyd wrapped his arms around her to pull her extremely close. Wet sounds and soft moans leaving their enchanted mouths, she was water he was thirsting over, and he was the darkness she ran into. She could feel his stone of a body pressing her against the tree, his body felt so firm she wanted to touch him but in this position she let him use her mouth, he was getting more and more eager, Y/N pulled back when she needed breath and together they chuckled. ‘’Let’s go. We have a big day tomorrow.’’ Feyd extended his hand and together they left, till they reach to their chambers neither of them spoke or let go of each others’ hand.

(for some reason i listened to this when i was writing the Baron's part lol)

‘’My Baron-‘’ Baron Vladimir Harkonnen’s spy ran to his chambers, Baron was getting ready to sleep, his room was extra dark, ‘’How dare you disturb me at this ungodly hour? You better have something worthy to say.’’ Baron was furious, he never liked being disturbed, especially when there was a servant boy laying under his sheets, the spy’s eyes gazed upon the sleeping boy… he looked immobile and the spy understood the situation. ‘’Na-Baron and his wife to be, they have been spotted hand in hand leaving the garden Na-Baron had built for her.’’ He explained what he saw in details. Baron didn’t say anything and dismissed the spy with the promise of gold and the spy left smiling.

Baron Vladimir poured himself a drink, he loved to drink after he used one of the boys, he was in his device which made him float in the air, he moved to his window overlooking his city, ‘’So, you choose her over me..’’ he was talking to himself, his icy cold eyes focused on a distant building, he could feel the rage in him building but years made him act in a more strategic way, he learned how to manipulate his rage into the right path, he only agreed to take the Atreides girl as a pawn, to use her name and family to his ways. It seemed like the girl had her own plans, ‘’Not for long..’’ he said and finished his drink, his hand was shaking rapidly so he exhaled his breath.  He smashed the glass against the floor which made the boy in his sleep startle and wake up in terror, Baron turned to the boy, his eyes made the boy cover himself in fear, ‘’Please Baron,’’ the boy begged, he was moving towards the boy, ‘’No more, please..’’

And that night, as usual, the guards at Baron’s door heard the painful screams of the boy.

Y/N started her day earlier than usual, it was her wedding day. She was happy because she was going to see her family but she was also dreading the day. After having a small breakfast they made her wear a black velvet gown, the dress covered her body entirely, only her hands and face could be seen, it was the custom so she said nothing. Before the wedding she had to watch Feyd fight for her so she was guided to the seating areas of the arena, the guests and Y/N were going to witness the fights behind glass, their seats were high, the pit was under them so she had to use a device to see the fight like others. She greeted the guests, Minor and Major houses were there, their wedding was the talk of the ton, everyone was talking about how Feyd-Rautha demanded her and got her, how brave he was… no one asked her how she was, no one wondered how she was surviving in a place like this, among the monsters.

‘’Y/N..’’ she heard her mother’s voice, ‘’Mother!’’ she turned excitedly to see her and her smile turned into a frown when she saw her mother with that woman, Reverend Mother Helen Mohiam. ‘’The Reverend Mother wishes to speak to you… alone.’’ Her mother announced with her formal tone, ‘’I would love to talk to her alone.’’ Y/N said with an icy bite. Together they moved to a small room, Jessica closed the door for them to speak.

‘’You have been handful, get your mind organized or you will lose everything.’’ Reverend Mother began, ‘’I was brought here against my will!’’ Y/N protested,  ‘’Silence!’’ Helen used the Voice on her and made her stop talking, ‘’You listen carefully, this arrangement had been in the progress since before you and Na-Baron were born. You are a woman, you are superior than him, use your mind to manipulate him and you shall live or..’’ Helen noticed the change in the girls eyes, ‘’You are very pretty,’’ her voice softened like a mother, ‘’however that isn’t enough for you to survive. Baron Vladimir is a dangerous and jealous man. He has spies everywhere, don’t talk to anyone about anything. Watch your back all the time and convince him.. convince Feyd to get rid of his uncle. Or he shall be the end of you and your children.’’ With that Reverend Mother left the small room, Y/N knew how dangerous the Harkonnens were, especially Baron but if Reverend Mother herself was warning her directly then it meant Baron had made his moves already. As soon as she become Feyd’s wife she was going to be thrown into the battle so she had to be ready and she had to manipulate Feyd to get rid of his uncle one way or another.

The black sun of Giedi Prime made the arena look bright white, the spectators were cheering to see their Na-Baron, before the doors opened a male voice announced the importance of today and screamed his name, Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen. The doors were opened and prisoners, slaves entered, Feyd entered from a different door in the middle.  He had his two blades and the shield device to protect him. He greeted everyone and waved at her, she only bowed.  She was uneasy, never liked to watch battles, the fireworks were the color of black because of the sun, she hated the sun of Giedi Prime, it’s light made everything look black and white. One of Y/N’s maids whispered in her ear, ‘’My lady, the prisoners your husband-to-be is ought to fight are drugged before the event. See that one, he is limping as he is walking.’’ Y/N turned to the maid, ‘’So it isn’t a fair fight.’’ She cursed herself for saying that, ‘’It is the custom. Baron cannot risk his one and only heir’s life.’’ She noticed the maid’s eyes following a young man, ‘’Oh no, that slave isn’t drugged.’’ And she turned to see the man. The maid was right, others were limping but he wasn’t, he was walking straight.

Y/N watched the entire fight with her heart at her throat, his death meant her demise, he had killed the drugged ones but the last one was a problem, he was a skilled fighter just like Feyd. There were men covered in black  at the corners of the arena just in case. When he killed the man Y/N found herself cheering for her husband-to-be, she was clapping and smiling, she was relieved that he was unharmed.

‘’My lady, it is your turn.’’ Her maid announced, ‘’My what?’’ she started to get looks from the guests and servants and her maid whispered again, ‘’You have to get down to the arena and kiss Na-Baron’s blade. It means you are satisfied with his efforts and you shall have him.’’ No one told her about this, when the maid saw that Y/N wasn’t moving she gently held her arm, ‘’Follow me my lady.’’

Feyd was waving at his people who were cheering for his victory, he loved the attention he got. He intentionally didn’t mention this tradition to her to see the irritation and shock on her face. The door was opened for her to enter, she was startled when she heard screams and cheers for her, she slowly walked towards him, it was way more hotter here,  the sun burnt her eyes, she was uneasy with the attention she got.

She bowed respectfully, ‘’My Na-Baron.’’ She had to follow the traditions if she wanted to survive.

Feyd bowed in return, ‘’My Lady.’’ And he extended the blade he had killed his enemies, Y/N looked up to meet his gaze, ‘’Kiss it.’’ He ordered, there was a strange light in his eyes, his chest was heaving and his hands and clothes were bloody, she could feel her stomach twist but she had to. Y/N gently kissed the metal of the blade, her lips covered in his enemies’ blood. Feyd lowered the blade and with another hand he grabbed her neck and pulled her for an animalistic kiss. Y/N was startled, she didn’t expect him to kiss her like that in front of thousands.  He let go after the heated kiss and whispered,

‘’See you at the altar.’’

Later she was taken to her chambers to wear the wedding gown, when she saw the completed version of the gown on the tall mirror she couldn’t believe her eyes. The fabric felt smooth like liquid, the color was silver white, with grey strands of fabrics, she was flowing like a fairy,

(this is the gown, i've found it on IG the account's handle is @etheralsoftwear.ai )

she expected a hair style but the maid said something which left her speechless, ‘’Na-Baron has requested for your hair to be loose.’’ She touched the strand of her hair, where he touched…

‘’You are ready my Lady.’’ His personal maid said and they opened the door for Leto Atreides to walk in. She didn’t see him among the guest and thought he didn’t come. ‘’Dad!’’ she jumped into his arms, ‘’Hello love.’’ He kissed her forehead, ‘’Look at my little duchess, you look amazing.’’ Even though she was mean to him and also heartbroken because of the fact that she was here she really missed him.

He extended his arm, ‘’Shall we?’’ Leto looked handsome in his black and green suit, his medals shining with the glowglobes’ lights.

The wedding ceremony was at the grand hall of the fortress where the Harkonnes held important events. The hall was decorated in black and white, flowers were white, symbolizing purity and innocence, guests were seated at their tables talking among themselves, when Leto and his daughter entered all conversations ended, she could see the looks they got, admiring her dress and beauty, she had always noticed the people watching her, observing her in detail.

Feyd was waiting at the black altar, in his black ceremonial clothing, he had his boots, made him look more tall and menacing, his hands clasped in front of him, he had his silver ring on his small finger, she came up with an idea of getting him a wedding ring maybe just like the one she has but in silver..

His face was as if made of marble, Y/N noticed how stiff he got among crowed but when he spotted her she noticed the small smile and the shine in his azure eyes.

Leto walked her daughter and left to take his seat remembering the conversation he had with Feyd earlier today;

‘’Duke Leto,’’ he called for him, ‘’May we speak in private?’’ it was before the arena.

‘’Yes, we may.’’ And Feyd took him to his study. ‘’Do not have any fear for your daughter’s future for I am her provider and protector starting today. She will be taken care of the way she wishes. Not a strand of her hair will be harmed. You have my word.’’ And he bowed respectfully.

Leto looked at him different than the day his daughter was taken. Today he was going to be his son-in-law, the father of his future grandchildren, ‘’If you need anything,’’ Leto began, ‘’I will be there for you, son.’’ And he hugged Feyd. Feyd wasn’t used to getting hugs or sentimental things from his family members so he was startled at first but he hugged Leto back.

At last she was standing in front of him, holding a small bouquet of white tulips, officiant of the wedding was the Reverend Mother herself. Y/N guessed that the Mother wanted to see this through.

‘’We are gathered here today to join two houses, Harkonnens and Atreides in holy matrimony,’’ Reverend Mother began, there was no sound in the room other than her strong one. Y/N glanced at the guests, they were so elegant and chic but she knew the lies laid underneath and she saw him with his family… Pyramus…

His brown eyes found hers, his clothing looked richer than usual, he was wearing colorful rings and necklace, he looked like an important man now but to her.. he was nothing.

Feyd noticed the small exchange while Reverend Mother was giving her speech, he was the one who personally sent a letter to invite the low life and watch Y/N ‘s reaction, a reaction that he completely misread. He didn’t like what he saw.

‘’I announce you, husband and wife.’’ The old lady finished and the ton cheered, smiling and yet Feyd wasn’t smiling. He looked at Pyramus, captured his gaze and leaned to kiss Y/N. The kiss was more passionate than earlier, Feyd’s soft lips encapsulated hers, his hands went to her waist to pull her close, she could hear the cheers, screams, the ton was having fun. She didn’t want to make a scene but her hand gently pressed on his chest, signaling for him to stop, he pulled back looking offended. Later he held her hand walked to their table.

‘’Let the feast began!’’ Baron Vladimir announced and the servants started to bring the food.

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[funficwriter]

A Wolf and A Snake (Wriothesley x Reader)

Letters' Interlude - 2

Warnings: Yandere themes, a bit graphic in the second letter.

Taglist: @yue-caelum @reyy-chanx @mis-disaster

From: Duke Wriothesley of Meropide - Fortress of Meropide, Liffey Region, Fontaine

To: Baron E. Balthazar - Balthazar Manor, Court Region, Fontaine

To the most esteemed Baron Balthazar,

I feel honored for the chance to be able to write this letter, even more so if you're reading it now. I'm sure you know why I am doing so by now, with your daughter's social success and coming-of-age as a fine young woman.

While I wasn't born a Duke, I have been one for a while. I saw quite a few virtuous young ladies, but young Lady Balthazar shines in the depth of her knowledge, culture, and trueness. As a noble, I'm sure you know how dull our conversational space can be; Everyone is well-educated and knows much of culture, but it often hits a ceiling where that ends. I would argue that they're all repositories of goodness with a cap. But Lady Balthazar is no house or repository with limits; She's a never-ending well of virtue, one that goes beyond instruction and basic fact. Each time I thought I saw it all with her, she amazed me with a new level of tact, kindness, or wisdom. She has certainly been blessed to have you provide such great education, but I must say you are also fortunate for Celestia to give you a daughter with her own penchant for continuously seeking virtues as a noble and as a person. I think that is what sealed the deal in my love for her.

I'm certain many nobles will liken her to doves or flowers. I would like to be honest about my feelings, even if I deviate. In that one night, I felt that Lady Balthazar is much that I love; She's my favorite type of dark chocolate. She's unearthed tomes holding the secrets to Spantamad's unresolved questions of ice and thunder. She's the soft operatic melody that rings out in sole nights not for human fame or money, but an impetuous desire to be heard by the stars. Her laughter's is Mondstadt's festival winds. Her steps are Liyue's clinking of good charms. Her speech is my cup of tea reflecting the full moon upon which I was born. Even beyond the borders of Fontaine, where I spent most of my life, Lady Balthazar spans upon my entire world and I'll never lead a joyful life if I have only experienced this once.

Obviously, a presence as electrifying as hers only deserves the best. I myself have long wanted a wife, so I made sure that by the time one made me as lovestruck as your daughter, I can be the best husband possible within my arsenal. When I became responsible of the Fortress, I made sure I used my power to assure Fontaine would be a place of safety and fairness. I want to wonder our beautiful avenues with her by my side, while she enjoys herself, free of any fears of danger. In a way, I feel that much of what I do is for the citizens I love, and the first on that list is your daughter.

I thank you for your time and attention, as well as the grace you granted me to meet the loveliest of ladies.

With all my regards,

Duke Wriothesley.

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From: Duke Wriothesley of Meropide - Fortress of Meropide, Liffey Region, Fontaine

To: Lady Y/N Balthazar - Balthazar Manor, Court Region, Fontaine

To my beloved, deserving of happiness alone,

I'm hoping that the appearance of Frosty cheered you up a little, especially after tonight. Deep down, I knew your father would try to use my being a wolf hybrid as a weapon against me. He's not the first, and certainly won't be the last.

I spent the last few hours praying to Focalors that something, anything good could happen before Frosty and lift your spirits a bit. Ever since I became infatuated with you, I felt like you're mine. Your emotional extremes - both positive and negative - have become mine as well. Even if I didn't cry, your tears were mine, too. And that is part of loving a person, whole, which I believe that in its tragedy, holds something beautiful. In you being mine, you'll never have to face another storm alone. You'll never have to stare down the uglier part of life with your hands shaking, begging to hold another and stay with you in the midst of that chaos.

Learn this well if you wish to know your real lover (that self-righteous Archandelle idiot is not it, even if your father says otherwise); Throughout my life, as a prisoner and as a warden, I have handled humanity's scum. Many nights I thought: "There can't be people worse than what I have just imprisoned.", then came another bastard to astonish me. Over time, I grew jaded about it until last night, when you poured your heart out to me. The lifer criminals I have, in my eyes, could never hold a candle of cruelty that he who made you cry has.

Your tears are the greatest injustice I've witnessed. Your sorrow (especially when you didn't ask for it) is the most urgent of tragedies to remediate. So I swear upon my honor and love, I will end it. I will run, fight, bribe, corrupt, maim or kill whoever dares to trespass upon our happiness, our coupling, our fate to be together forever. Many of our Archons have decreed it: "Whoever stops fate from running its course will see great punishment.". Except here, this punishment will come in the ice beast that they feared, who will roar at them but only ever purr for you.

Please hold on and be assured that you will not belong to that idiot, or that bastard you call a father. Keep in mind that my anger towards him is not yours at all. You didn't ask to be born to him, you did nothing wrong. On the contrary, he saw the gem that was his daughter, and yet decided to make her unhappy. With time and my own plans (That you will be made aware of soon. A bit radical, but will guarantee our ending up together), you will belong to the one you should belong to. Until then, let's keep each other in the loop of what is going on.

You will belong to me,

Duke Wriothesley.