#the coronation is in six months

[listen-to-the-inner-walrus]

hello and welcome to the uk is a fucking hell country, part 284829494

[alt text:]

Anti-monarchists receive ‘intimidatory’ Home Office letter on new protest laws

Home Office claims timing of new powers, taking effect days before king’s coronation, is coincidental

Ben Quinn, Rajeev Syal and Vikram Dodd

Official warning letters have been sent to anti-monarchists planning peaceful protests at King Charles III’s coronation saying that new criminal offences to prevent disruption have been rushed into law.

Using tactics described by lawyers as “intimidatory”, the Home Office’s Police Powers Unit wrote to the campaign group Republic saying new powers had been brought forward to prevent “disruption at major sporting and cultural events”.

The new law, given royal assent by Charles on Tuesday, means that from Wednesday:

Protesters who block roads, airports and railways could face 12 months behind bars.

Anyone locking on to others, objects or buildings could go to prison for six months and face an unlimited fine.

Police will be able to head off disruption by stopping and searching protesters if they suspect they are setting out to cause chaos.

Jun Pang, a policy and campaigns officer at Liberty, said: “Key measures in the bill will come into force just days before the coronation of King Charles – a significant event in our country’s history that is bound to inspire a wider national conversation and public protests. At the same time, the government are using a statutory instrument to bring draconian measures that the House of Lords threw out of the bill back from the dead, once again evading scrutiny and accountability.

“It’s worrying to see the police handed so many new powers to restrict protest, especially before a major national event. When the Police, Crime, Sentencing and Courts Act came into force, the police repeatedly misused them – in part because they simply did not understand them. Similarly, when Queen Elizabeth died, we saw police acting in inappropriate and heavy-handed ways towards protesters that violated their rights.”

Shami Chakrabarti, the former shadow attorney general, said: “During the passage of this illiberal and headline-grabbing legislation, ministers admitted that the new offence of ‘locking on’ is so broad as to catch peaceful protesters who link arms in public.

“Suspicionless stop and search is notorious for racial disparity and it is staggering that more of these provisions have brought into force so soon after Louise Casey’s devastating report [on the Met police]. The home secretary can blast ‘ecowarriors’ but this legislation may be used against anti-poverty and Ukraine solidarity protesters too.”

A statement from the home secretary, Suella Braverman, said: “This legislation is the latest step the government has taken against protesters who use highly disruptive tactics to deliberately delay members of the public, often preventing them from getting to work and hospital, as well as missing loved ones’ funerals.

“The range of new offences and penalties match the seriousness of the threat guerrilla tactics pose to our infrastructure, taxpayers’ money and police time.”

full article here

so just to sum this up, peaceful protesting can now land you in prison for a year and you might face an unlimited fine which i believe is up to £5000, and police can now stop and search you if they believe youre "setting out to cause chaos"

its specifically being put in place right before charles' coronation, but these are now considered criminal offenses so theyre not exclusive to it.

you know, a country where you can be put in prison for a year for peaceful protesting really doesnt sound like a fucking democracy to me.

[kaidatheghostdragon]

You know what mixture of AUs i havent seen here yet? Danny x Bruce with de-aged clones!

Bruce and danny are near the same age and meet pretty early in batman's career, maybe even before dick was adopted. Danny is a single dad of infant/toddler twins ellie and dante. (To make them young and at the same age, i imagine they were rescued after both taking serious damage and retreated to their cores, and remerged as newborns about the same time, but i also want to leave this open for others to flesh out.) Timeline-wise, that would probably make them somewhere around jason or tim's age.

So now we have an au where the bat kids are collected into a stable home where bruce and danny are also raising ellie and dante. Bruce is much closer to WFA characterization right from the get-go because danny would whip him into shape.

Tim probably gets adopted because one of the phantoms sniff him out, either living alone in the neighboring mansion, or following the bats and ghosts on patrol.

Talia either stole bruce's (and/or danny's) dna or drugged bruce (it didnt work on danny) to create damian. If bruce was drugged, danny is on a warpath and might even find and rescue damian at a much younger age.

Jason's timeline is the most difficult to predict, and i will forever simp halfa jason, so he's gotta die no matter what changes. I dont think that's terribly difficult because the joker specifically targeted him to lure him out (assuming i understand canon correctly - also this is definitely true in the UtRH animated movie canon). If jason isnt interested in finding his biomom in this au, joker will just find a different bait. Would be cool if danny is able to track down jason's ghost during the six-month down time and brings him home, and a potential point of angst if he revives without his memories as a ghost (and is lost for a while before danny tracks him down again.)

(Danny probably doesn't have the no-killing rule like bruce, so he'd have no qualms killing the joker and detaining/destroying his ghost. If not danny, then jazz would. Bruce conveniently looks the other way.)

Batman mythology in this universe is inexorably linked to phantom mythology. They both help each other out with vigilante stuff. Danny's team (sam/tucker/val/jazz) visit often and are considered aunts/uncle to the batkids. Batfam is highly liminal because they are part of danny's fraid. They might even develop liminal powers, if that's your kind of headcanon.

Danny may or may not be ghost king, but i like the idea that he's the crown prince and wont be coronated for several more decades. He's got time and all the resources that position affords him. Danny still gets hounded by the observants, but the batkids have made a game of pranking the annoying eyeballs.

Danny is a founding member of the justice league and of jld (the rest of his team might be as well). Batman is much more knowledgeable of the supernatural because of danny. I like the idea of constantine being more terrified of phantom than batman. He still gets called on for advice because he's the demonology and magic expert, while danny specializes more in ghosts and Realms technology.

Ellie and dante are not allowed to join the vigilante scene until they turn 12 (they managed to argue it down from 14), but because of their powers (and potentially retaining memories and experience) there are numerous occasions before then that they functioned as a sort of vigilante retrevial unit - zooming out and retrieving anyone who was injured or otherwise hit their emergency beacon and bringing them straight back to the cave. They might have even done this once or twice during justice league emergencies.

I'll leave their vigilante identities open to discussion, but im partial toward a really old drawing i remember seeing here on tumblr, someone designed a pink batsuit for ellie with exaggerated bat ears, and a sort of glider cloak that attached to her belt or her wrists to disguise her flight as gliding. (If someone knows the post im talking about, please leave a link so the artist can be credited!)

As for danny's old team...

Jazz works at arkham, helping to reform the place and causing many of batman's rogues to reform a bit earlier. She is the expert called in by the justice league to formulate ways to both detain and to help various rogues globally. She especially likes the flash because of the friendly attitude he has towards his own rogues.

Sam is a humanitarian. If she has plant powers, she's using them to establish food stability in poorer nations, helping the people there become more self-sustaining, as well as providing relief for disaster-stricken areas whose farms need to be completely rebuilt and regrown. Jazz introduces her to poison ivy, and the two end up joined at the hip, helping to reform ivy much earlier. (Would it be weird to make this au have sam x ivy and jazz x harley?)

Valerie probably stays in Amity Park to be its designated hero since danny moved out. If the fentons are good, she works alongside them as the fentons also develop tech for the justice league. If they arent, im gonna assume theyre the reason dante and ellie got de-aged, danny absconded with their cores to keep them safe, and the rest of team phantom descended on the fenton parents like hungry wolves. When the dust settled, valerie and her dad were left in charge of protecting amity and with ownership of fentonworks.

Tucker is a freelance hacker slash tech expert, and will kit out any vigilante's tech and security free of charge. His unique blend of magitech is very difficult to counter, making it all-the-more sought after. He probably helped set oracle up and maybe even trained/mentored barb to some extent.

There are lots of other potential changes, but ill stop here.

[undertheorangetree]

The Last of the Dragons

Chapter Four- Cooperation

Summary- Cregan Stark has a proposition and Aemond struggles with the lord’s arrival.

Warnings- MDNI 18+ NSFW. Female reader. Incest. Grief. Talks of treason. Angst cuz I literally can’t stop. Semi public sex. Also private sex. There's a lot of sex. Mild breeding kink. Praise kink. Jizz?? Dry humping. Discussion of dead babies and children. And Alys cuz apparently she needs her own warning now. Cockwarming.

Author’s Note- sorry this took longer than usual it’s end of semester and I am a shell of my former self lmao. Anyway this is once again debatably too long (10.2k) and the full chapter is linked below as usual :)

series masterlist

It takes a few more days than she had hoped before she is able to speak with Cregan Stark. It seems as though the council had been saving the true work for after the coronation and now they refuse to allow a day to pass without attempting to fix one issue or another. She learns very quickly that even with a council to do the heavy lifting, Aegon had done next to nothing in his six months on the throne, the realm still in shambles from the civil war that has destroyed it.

The Riverlands burnt and all but decimated due to Aemond and Vhagar. The Ironborn raiding every village, port, and town they can reach despite more than one letter arriving in Pyke demanding an end to it. All the great houses still at odds over their differing allegiances. Cregan Stark still thirsty for blood in order to avenge her mother and fulfill his promise to his men. King’s Landing only repaired with half measures after the revolt in the city and less than a quarter of the repairs underway. The list seemed never ending and by the end of each day, she finds a headache sitting heavy behind her eyes, so deep she can’t even attempt to massage the pain away.

To his credit, Aemond takes it upon himself to begin rebuilding the Riverlands himself, taking the initiative to lead the restoration. She has Corlys send word to Alyn Velaryon and command him to sail to Pyke with some of Velaryon fleet with the hopes that conversation and some bribing will be enough to stop Dalton Greyjoy from his raids. Lord Tyland informs them of just how much of the crown’s coffers he had spirited away and begins rationing what can be spared to begin repairing the city. Lord Larys assures them that the hunt for Aegon’s murderer is still well underway, though he has little to show for it.

It is Cregan Stark that is left to her. Handsome, bloodthirsty Cregan Stark. Where he had cast a glare upon almost everyone when he had arrived for the coronation, he had smiled at her, had been friendly and chivalrous. Though Aemond had vehemently disagreed, the council had all but unanimously decided that she was to charm him and turn him toward peace or, barring that, some acceptance of who was now ruling. She does not mind the task, already having planned to speak to the man and not prepared to be usurped less than sennight on the throne, so she agrees and leaves the council chamber with Aemond staring daggers into her back.

She is even more glad for the task as she sits on a bench in the gardens, eyes closed and face tilted up toward the sun as she waits for Lord Stark’s arrival. It feels as though it has been an age since she had the chance to simply be and in this moment, the sun warm and the air sweet with the smell of flowers, she feels completely and totally at peace. It is a strange feeling to have when worry and panic have been all she seemed capable of feeling as of late, but she will take it as it comes. She would rather feel this than the latter and she plans to enjoy it for as long as she is able.

A throat clears and she opens her eyes to see Cregan Stark standing before her, a servant at his side. The girl bows her head to them both before scurrying off as quick as she came and she stands from the bench with a smile.

“Lord Stark. I apologize for the delay in finally being able to speak to one another. My council seems content to work me like an ox now that everything has become more official but I insisted they release me so that I may fulfill my promise to you.”

He smiles as he offers her his arm. “I am honoured you were able to find the time at all, your grace. I know the early days in a new role can be exhausting.”

She mimics his smile gratefully as she takes his arm, allowing him to begin leading her through the gardens. They have not received the attention they deserved as of late- the shrubbery and bushes beginning to grow a bit wild, the flowers untrimmed- but she finds she likes it this way. Being so far into spring, everything is in bloom and beautiful even if they have not been well tended to, the green brilliant and dotted with red, yellow, purple, and white. She allows the silence to fall between them for a moment as she admires it all, feeling as though it has been too long since she has been allowed to enjoy something so simplistically pretty. Whenever she is given a gown or a piece of jewelry, she cannot help but feel as though it is a piece in this great game she never asked to play. The flowers, though, nature, they do not suffer the same fate.

Eventually, she knows she cannot allow for the silence to reign much longer and turns her head to look at the young lord. “My brother told me much about you in his letters. I feel as though you and I are already acquainted.”

Read the rest here :)

Taglist- @ammo23 @bellstwd @kckt88 @aemondsbabygirl @shygardengalaxy @duds31 @at-a-rax-ia @ladymarg0t @queenofshinigamis @drakar-i @cl-0-vr @castellomargot @moonlightfoxx @ladybug0095 @marihoneywk @the-common-cowgirl @darylandbethfanforever9 @bunny24sstuff @helaenaluvr @toodlesxcuddles @eternally-passionate @herfantasyworldd @ashovertheriver @hypocritic-trash-baby @heavenly1927 @bunbunbl0gs @divxnee @seabasscevans

[heartilywrites]

،، 𝓣o be loved and to be in love ; Korra (p. 2)

< back to part 1

resume: after three years, it finally was time to talk about those feelings.

content warning: time skip ; fluff ; mentions of Mako and Korra's relationship ; airbender and fem!reader being Tenzin's oldest daughter ; childhood friends to lovers ; no use of y/n ; only description of eye color and maybe hair if you squint enough ;

wc: 2.3k

“ As much as you waited for me, I'll never let you go.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “Meelo, that's enough! What's that!? IT STINKS!” such a normal day in the temple, the sun was shining on the place, Jinora and you were meditating... Meelo was terrorizing Ikki, as usual.

An exhausted sigh left your mouth before turning to your younger siblings and hit them with an air burst to destabilize them, both fell in their butts confused to what happened. “Can you two be quiet!? We are working here!”

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “You're not the boss of mine!” the boy exclaimed, your eyes narrowed at him.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “Oh? You wanna go, little man?” not even a step was given from your side before your father stood in front of you and Meelo.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “That's enough, kids, we have to leave.” Tenzin called you by name to be at his side. “We have to be in the city for the coronation of prince Wu.”

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “Alright... I need to wear the suit?” you asked walking beside the master, your right hand was raising a little bit the traditional dress you were wearing just in case you stepped on it while going up the stairs.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “You do, it shows our changes as a nation.” the older man explained, you nodded after frowning your nose a little bit. You still felt weird about the changes on clothing.

After Korra left for the south, Tenzin had promised that the airbenders would take responsibility and help the people in need while the avatar was recovering in her hometown. The first six months pass and, as promised, you wrote to Korra every single week, telling her about the most important things that happened and some good news in hope that she wouldn't worry of coming back before time. You got letters back responding to yours, not knowing that from all her friends you were the only one she wrote back all that time, because your letters used to help her get through everything.

The first year arrived and Korra changed her writing to you to once a month while you didn't stopped your quantity to her. When the half of the year went by, you got your ceremony naming you an official airbender master and you waited for Korra to show up, but when the day came, your illusions stayed as that: illusions. You were happy, nonetheless, you finally got your tattoos and got the title of master after working so hard for it, but not having the girl your heart loved more than anything by your side on your most important day broke you.

Two years in and the letters got fewer from both sides, you got occupied with the nation while Korra was trying to heal. She was having a hard time by itself, feeling in a bottomless pit, but at the end of each day she used to pull a box with all of your letters and would read it back.

She would laugh at some when something funny or embarrassing happened to you and you would tell her about it, your words of encouragement and how even on ink she could feel your love could turn a bad day into a good one. That's where she realized, she did love you, you were the one all this time, you were right in front of her, but she couldn’t realize in time and she felt so stupid when she realized that. But did you loved her? How could she know if you loved her back? She couldn't base her assumptions on written words, maybe you were just being friendly, maybe be by the time the third year arrived and she almost didn't receive any letter you found someone for you, someone who loved you and treated you well. She couldn’t handle it.

But at the third year of her being gone, your responsibilities just increased. Since you were Tenzin's first born child and you finally got your tattoos, he had told you how you were ready to become one of the next leaders of the air nation, meaning you didn't have the enough time to write her and tell her the good news... or bad news.

And as a leader, it also meant you needed to stay on the island with your father while your three younger siblings went to look for Korra.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “It's not fair,” you said after you waved them goodbye asking all three to take care of each other. “I should be helping them with the search.”

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “I'm sorry, kiddo, but I need you here to help us come with a plan against Kuvira.” he said, resting an arm on your shoulders. “They'll find and bring her, be patient, she will be here again.”

You didn't know this, but Tenzin was well aware of your love for Korra. It didn't take a genius to realize how you've been in love with Korra almost your whole life and Tenzin was a very observant parent as well, his theories were confirmed after the avatar's fight against the Red Lotus, but he never pressured you to talk about it, the airbender wanted you to tell him yourself when you were ready to talk about it.

The next couple of days were hell for you, without any way to reach your siblings and asked them how they were doing or any type of news from the southerner, your mind couldn't concentrate.

The one day you went out with Kai to take care of some business designated by your father, you came back to the surprise of one airbender telling you how he was so happy to have Korra back. Your legs ran as fast as they could while you were buttoning your suit from one side, your low bun was loosing its form since the band was slipping down.

At your arrival to the front of the temple you saw everyone reunited giving the avatar a warm welcome, but your eyes were so fixated on the girl that you didn't saw how Jinora and Ikki held hands waiting for the moment they were talking so excited about in the way out. Korra's breath stopped at your sight, you were more beautiful than she remembered; your hair looked a bit longer than before her departure, your grey eyes looked difficult to read and a bit teary-eyed, she even let her eyes wonder on your body as the suit hugged your figure and how could she forget: your tattoos, you were finally an airbending master.

You walked close to her and she called your name in a sigh, it took you a second to threw yourself at her to hug her so tight as your arms allowed you, wanting to have her as close as the anatomy allowed you.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “I missed you so much.” you began, while trying to catch your breath, she smiled big and hide her face in the crook of your neck, letting you feel goosebumps at the air she breath out. “I'm so glad you're back.”

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “I'm sorry.” she whispered against your skin, she stayed there for one more moment, breathing in your scent before taking a step back from you. “I missed you too... But now I'm back and we can catch up.”

A tiny smile appeared on your face while your eyes were delighting themselves with Korra's features. Her gaze looked darker, some eye bags underneath them and... she cut her hair shorter. “You look so gorgeous with your hair short.”

Her cheeks changed colors at the compliment, your two sisters squeaked at your back and at that moment you remembered how everyone was still witnessing the encounter. “Thank you, you look so pretty with the tattoos and your long hair. I'm so happy you finally are a master, you deserved it.” now it was your turn to blush.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “Alright, kiddos, how about taking Korra back to her room so she can freshen up?” you heard Tenzin say, thanking the spirits he intervened. “Everyone has chores to do and Korra has friends to catch up with.”

After Korra's arrival, you felt as if you could breath again. You didn't realize how much you could miss someone's presence until she was ripped away from you without any warning whatsoever. But now that that was over, you two started to get as closer as when you were when little.

Even when great problems were upon everyone, Korra and you found time at night to chat again to catch up; she had asked you to move to her room with the excuse that it would be easier to talk and gossip at the end of each day, and how could you say no to that? You would tell her about your new responsibilities and how it was scary at some point to become a leader of a whole nation and she would tell you about everything she went through the months she disappeared from everyone. As one would, you got concerned about her not being able to go into the avatar state again and would advise her a couple of things, she was grateful for that. She couldn't be more grateful to have you back on her side, she needed you more than anything.

A night before the evacuation of the city took place, Korra was sitting down watching you braid your hair as you did almost every night. “You look so pretty.”

Your hands stopped and your eyes looked back at her, a big smile formed in your face while your cheeks adopted a light pink color in them. “Thank you...” you could only whisper back, timidly. The southerner licked her lips before gathering strength to keep talking.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “Listen, I know this isn't the right time since we are about to go to war with a crazy metalbender,” you giggled at that, paying your whole attention to the girl once your hairstyle was done. “But in all those years in the south, I couldn't stop thinking about you.”

Your heart stopped at the way she said the last sentence, with such caution and care, looking at you and your reaction.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “Your letters were the only thing keeping me with hope, I would read them every night without missing one...” she continued, her fingers were moving nervously. “And in all this time I've hit rock-bottom as I never did before, but somehow the mere thought of you made me want to keep going.”

...Was this going where you thought it was going?

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “You've been my best friend for so long now that I can't remember a day when I was a kid where you weren't there with me and I can't imagine a life without you by my side.” she stepped up from her bed and walked to yours, making your heart race when she sat so close. “You were the only one sticking by my side all this time, in my highs and lows, comforting me each time I needed without asking anything in return or giving me a lecture while helping me to get better when I made mistakes instead of judging me for it and you have no idea how thankful I am with you for that.”

Korra's hands looked for yours, feeling warm when they found them and she smiled.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “It took me so long to realize this that it's absurd how I couldn't pinpoint it in the past and instead I was covering it up with an stupid excuse, but I love you. I have loved you since we were kids and it took me being away from you to realize that it was love what I felt for you.” your heart dropped, a big smile started to form in your face at those words.

Before she could continue or ask you anything, your lips met hers in a soft kiss, taking the girl by surprise but being quick to melt in the gesture. You distanced after a couple of seconds, giggling when she followed your lips.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “Does that mean you love me too?” she asked in a whisper on your lips.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “Oh, no, I just love kissing my friends to reinforce our friendship.” you responded sarcastically, Korra rolled her eyes in a lighthearted way. “Of course I love you, loser, I meant to tell you years ago when you moved to the city.”

She frowned confused. “Why didn't you?”

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “You were so interested in Mako that I distanced myself to not watch you being with him.” you tell, her eyes opened realizing how that was the reason why you left. “That's why I also didn’t went in a bunch of your journeys... I couldn't stand to see you with him.”

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “Wait... When you came back him and I were over, I thought you distanced because you didn’t like me as a friend anymore.” now you raised your eyebrows. “So...”

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “We are idiots.” you declared holding back a laugh.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “You should've followed Pema's advice on love, you know?” now you did laugh, letting your forehead rest in her shoulder. “It would've worked on me too, I'm just saying.”

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “Dear spirits, shut up, let's... Okay, we'll sort this out after the battle, mhm? We need to stay focus.” Korra smiled flirty at you. “Time to sleep, go.”

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “Can I sleep with you? That's what girlfriends do.” your whole face turned red, the southerner left a quick kiss on your cheek before leading you to lie down next to her. “We'll talk about this after defeating that dumbass.”

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “And you'll ask me out properly.” you finished while settling however you could in the bed. Both hearts jumping happy at finally having the answer of their dilemmas: their feelings were reciprocated.

You were one battle away to live the life that only in dreams appeared and you surely would fight to have it with Korra.

[starryevermore]

i will go to lunar valleys in my mind ✧ tamlin & azriel

angst city™ library | send in a request (consult request faqs first)

pairing: tamlin x archeron!fem!reader; azriel x archeron!sister

summary: to azriel, you are the most brilliant star shining in the night sky. 

word count: 7,954

warnings?: angst with a happy ending, pining, not proofread

PART ONE

Azriel stared at the cream invitation. It had landed in front of him just moments earlier, but he had already read it a few dozen times. The words were seared into his mind. You are cordially invited to the mating ceremony of High Lord Tamlin and High Lady Y/N. High Lady. You were Spring’s High Lady. There was no way, he knew, that you could, would, ever return to Velaris when you had a court to run. He had been invited to your coronation, too, months ago. But in the year since you left for Spring, he never visited. Despite Feyre and Rhys’s insistence that you missed him, and Lucien’s chastising him for never going, and even Elain’s quiet disapproval, he knew better than to make the journey. He meant what he said to Rhys all that time ago. 

If he went to Spring, he would bring you straight back home. 

Because he had built you a home. Azriel knew how you never felt truly at home in any of Rhys’s homes—not the Town House, not the House of Wind, and not the River House. The House of Wind was the most comfortable to you, because it offered the most solitary, but it was not your home. One night, you had told him of your dream home. A quaint cottage in the woods, close enough to the city to go when you pleased but far enough to still be calm. A nice personal library, a cozy kitchen. A big fireplace that you could curl up with a nice book. Azriel committed those details to memory and spent many months making your dream home come a reality. He intended for it to be a mating gift, for when the bond finally snapped for you. 

It only collected dust.

He sat there now, at the dining table he had spent weeks picking out. His shadows flitted about, hissing at him to go to Spring. To get you before you were tied to Tamlin forever. Azriel would not. He couldn’t force you to sacrifice your happiness for his sake. You had to be happy. That was why you never returned to Velaris. You were happy in perfect Spring with your perfect mate. To bring you back here would only taint you.

“You are not going,” Rhysand said. Azriel didn’t look up from the invitation to know his High Lord had winnowed into the room. Rhys had found out about the house a few weeks after you left, concerned when Azriel hadn’t reported for any missions. 

“I haven’t gone there in a year. Why would I go now?”

“I thought the same when I was going to let Feyre live her life with Tamlin. And then she called down the bond, and I was whisking her away without any thought of the consequences.” Rhysand leaned over the table, pushing down on the invitation so that Azriel would look up at him. “She is happy with him. She looks alive when she is with him.”

“And she looked dead with me?”

It was a cheap shot, and Azriel knew it. But he couldn’t shake the sinking feeling that he wasn’t right for you. That the Mother had made a mistake. There were so many poorly-matched mates, and he was certain this was the case when the bond snapped for him. If you were content with Tamlin, then that meant you didn’t feel the same hole in your soul that Azriel did. 

His High Lord let out a sigh. “You know that’s not what I mean, brother. You remember how she looked when we forced them apart. She is finally happy again, and I won’t let anyone jeopardize it. Feyre won’t allow it.”

Azriel shoved Rhysand’s hand off the invitation. He stared at the date. It was six months away. A long time to be sending announcements for a mating ceremony, but it was surely to be a huge event for the High Lord and Lady of Spring. He imagined it would be the biggest event of the year. His teeth ground together. That should be you and him.

He dropped the invitation and rose from his seat. Shadows swirled around him as he stalked out of the house. Ignoring Rhysand’s calls behind him, Azriel took off into the air. He couldn’t stand this anymore.

“They didn’t come,” you whispered, head leaning against Tamlin’s chest. His arms wound around you. You felt him press a kiss to the top of your head. Your face crumpled. Letting out a shuddering breath, you said, “I shouldn’t be surprised. They haven’t come here in months, but I thought…I thought they would come.”

A finger tilted your chin up so you would look up at your mate. Tamlin’s eyes were soft. “If they’re the ones who decide to burn bridges, it is not your fault.”

“I know, but…” You sighed. You looked out the large window overlooking the gardens. Despite the blanket of night covering the grounds, you could see the beautiful, blossoming rose bush Tamlin had planted earlier that month. A tradition, he’d said. “I hoped something would have changed.”

Tamlin leaned his cheek on the top of your head. His steady breathing was the only thing keeping your from sinking to the floor. “I know it hurts, but it’s their loss. You are an amazing female, my love. I could never understand why they’d want to throw that all away, but that is their mistake to make.”

You wiggled out of his arms and stepped closer to the window. Your hand pressed against the cold glass. “I don’t understand what changed. I thought things were going well. Feyre stopped glaring at you to your face—”

“What?”

“—she still glared behind your back, but it was an improvement. Rhysand didn’t make comments wishing for your death. Even Nesta held her tongue. The only one who never came around was Azriel, which hurts because I thought him my friend. But for them to all decide I’m not worth the trouble anymore? It feels like they carved out my heart and stomped on it.”

Tamlin was silent for a long moment. You could feel his eyes looking you over, searching for any sign that you were about to waste away like Feyre had. Down the bond, you feel his love and comfort. But…there was something else there. Pain, anguish. Were you hurting Tamlin somehow? Were you making him doubt your love for him by talking about this? You looked over your shoulder at him. 

“There is still cake from the celebration. I’ll go get a couple slices from the kitchen, and some wine. Does that sound alright?”

You nodded. Tamlin smiled and left the room. You looked back out the window. Part of you was tempted to push the window open, scale down the wall, and run through the gardens until the pain of the loss of your family was only a dull ache. The other part of you just wanted to be held by your mate.

You loved Tamlin. You really, truly did. But, in recent months, you felt like there was something missing. When the high of getting to know him, accepting the bond, and becoming High Lady of Spring finally died down, you were left with a hole in your chest. Small, barely noticeable if you weren’t looking, but enough to make you question everything. 

Had you been wrong to come here? 

Something tugged in your chest. Ordinarily, you would have thought it would be Tamlin. He always was so quick to send you comfort through the bond, but this felt different. Colder, but a comforting sort of cold. The kind of cold of a fan being waved on you during a sweltering summer day. The cold of a drink after hours of laborous work. The cold of a shadow slithering around your hand, pulling you out of harm’s way. The cold of Azriel’s hands on your burning face as you sobbed at being forcibly separated from your mate.

It tugged harder. It felt closer to snapping. But to what? You had a mate. You had Tamlin. What other sort of snapping could there be? 

Your hands tugged at your hair.  You had been so sure months ago. Why were you spiraling now? What had changed? It was more than your family, your sisters, not showing up to your mating ceremony. No, this was something deeper. Something that you had been ignoring for too long. Something that was starting to boil over. Tears began to streak down your face. A scream of frustration fell out as your hand smacked against the pane. 

The temperature in the room dropped. 

“Are you hurt?”

Everything went still. Slowly, you peeled yourself off the window. No. He couldn’t be here. Not after all this time. He hadn’t deigned to see you in over a year. You had sent invitations and letters, and they had all gone unanswered. Even when you told Feyre to pass him along the message that you missed him, you never got a response. Yes, you had left without a goodbye. But did that mean you deserved to be ignored? 

Perhaps he truly only saw you as the latest object of his affections. Perhaps you never were anything close to a friend of his. 

A hand stroked your hair. You sucked in a breath. “I swear, if he’s hurt you, I will snuff out this Cauldron-forsaken court’s light before he can even blink.”

You scoffed. Slowly you turned, your eyes narrowing at him. “That’s rich. If you care so much about my well-being, where were you the last year? Did Feyre send you here to tell me that she’s throwing in the towel? That she’s decided I’m not worth the effort? That she’s forbidden everyone else from coming to Spring, too?”

Azriel blinked. “What?”

“I mean, it was rich for her to not come today. It would make sense for Rhysand not to come if she didn’t. But for everyone else to not make an appearance? Even Lucien wasn’t here, and he’s Tamlin’s best friend! No one has been here in months! I can only assume the High Lady ordered gave orders to stay away.” You shook your head. “You must only be here to finally clue me in, so I’ll stop littering their desks with silly little invitations.”

He took a step closer to you. You wished you had the space to back away. Shadows wrapped around your ankles. He reached out to hold your face, but you jerked away. It was impossible to miss the hurt in his hazel eyes. And—why did your chest ache? “I’m afraid I’m the reason no one made an appearance.”

Pain struck through you. Azriel? Did he truly think so little of you because you chose your mate? You once overheard a fight he had with Rhysand—heard him say that it was only fair that he had a sister. With Feyre, Nesta, and Elain all happily taken, that had left you. Did he convince them all to hate you because you chose Tamlin over him? 

You pushed him away. “How dare you,” you hissed. 

“It’s not what you think—”

“Oh, I’m sure it’s much worse. You couldn’t have Mor, but that was fine because at least it was because she prefers females. You couldn’t have Elain. That was fine, because there was another Archeron sister waiting in the wings, praying to be picked. But then you couldn’t have me, and you had to poison everyone against me.” You gave him your harshest glare. “Why couldn’t you have pined after someone else? I hear Gwyn is single. Why didn’t you go after her? Why did you have to stoop so fucking low?”

“I didn’t!” he shouted. His voice echoed off the walls. You were sure Tamlin could hear him, but you didn’t care. Not when it felt like your chest was caving in. 

“I thought you were my friend, Azriel. I may not have always treated you the best, and I apologize for that. But I know when I’m only being picked because I’m the last option available. I deserve better than that, and you know it. Of everyone, you should know that. What did I do to deserve such cruelty?”

“Nothing!” He ran his fingers through his hair. His shadows swirled around in a flurry. Was he about to set them out to attack you? Get rid of you as a final fuck you? “They weren’t here because I am going crazy without you!”

“Excuse me?!”

“You’re my fucking mate, Y/N!”

Any words you were ready to spit out dried out in your mouth. What? That couldn’t be possible. You had a mate already. You had Tamlin. And yet…There was still that tugging in your chest. Familiar, but not. 

“I have known since Nyx’s birth. I wanted to wait until it snapped for you, but it didn’t. It snapped for fucking Tamlin. As cruel as it is, I was grateful that Feyre and Rhys took you from him. At least it gave me a chance to make you see me. But then I came back from that mission and you were gone.” Azriel took a tentative step towards you again. You made no effort, this time, to push him away. “It fucking killed me to know you were gone. No one saw me for a month afterwards. I started to come around, eventually, but it was never the same without you there. I didn’t come here, to Spring, because if I did, I would have stolen you away again, because I cannot live without you. Then, six months ago, I received the invitation to your mating ceremony, and I lost it. Disappeared. Everyone has been on the hunt for me, to make sure I didn’t cause a war between our courts.”

You stared at him, unblinking. The ache in your chest only grew stronger. Could he be right? Could he truly be your mate? But what would that make Tamlin? Was it possible to be mistaken over who your mate was? Was it possible to have two mates? You wanted to cry—for you, and for Azriel. 

“I apologize for what my actions have done.”

“Why are you here now?” you asked. He said nothing, so you continued, “You stayed away this long. Why are you here now?”

Azriel let out a breath. “I had to see if you were happy. I…I imagine the mating ceremony has already been consummated, which would complicate things, but…If there was any chance, any at all, that I could be your knight in shining armor, I had to take it. If you were, I would leave you be. Let you live out your life as Spring’s High Lady and never again interfere. So, I have to ask, are you happy?”

That tug in your chest finally snapped. All at once, everything Azriel felt came crashing through. The full extent of his pain, the anguish raging through his body. The glimmer of hope as he stared down at you, waiting for your answer. Your hand reached out without you thinking, touching his chest. You could almost see the golden thread binding you to him. 

“Yes,” you said.

You watched the rise and fall of his chest, the gleam of his siphon bouncing off at you. “But?”

“I feel a hole in my soul.”

A smile tugged at his lips. “Yeah?”

“One, that I’m beginning to realize, is shaped like an Illyrian.”

The smile grew. He reached out, cupping your face in his large hands. Azriel’s thumbs swiped over your cheeks. You hadn’t realized you’d been crying. Leaning against his palm, a smile began to cross your face. Azriel leaned in, nose brushing against yours, until his lips connected with yours. 

A gasp escaped you at the contact. It was…electric. Unlike anything you experienced with Tamlin, save for the intensity of it all. If Tamlin was the innocent joy, Azriel was the passionate fervor. You had experienced the frenzy with Tamlin, but you were sure it would pale in comparison to Azriel. You could feel the full weight of his emotions through the bond—the lust, the adoration, the desire for more. 

A chord struck in you. If you could feel all of this with Azriel, then Tamlin could—

Tamlin’s snarl ripped through the room. 

He fought to keep a lid on his barely-constrained anger. Whenever Tamlin felt such explosive anger, he had a tendency to hurt those he cared about. You deserved better than that. And, even if your relationship with Feyre had become strained, he was sure she would make good on her threat anyways. But, Mother, how else was he supposed to react when that Cauldron damned Shadowsinger was kissing his mate?

Tamlin had suspected for a long time that Azriel harbored feelings for you. When you came to the ball, Azriel clung to you like a leech. Always hovering, always watching you. And when Azriel would leave you, those damned shadows of his would always linger. Even when Tamlin finally got a moment alone with you, the Shadowsinger burst in the room as if thought Tamlin was about to hurt you—pulled you out of his arms, tried to keep you from him. He knew there was a reason Azriel hadn’t visited once—hadn’t even sent word to you—in the last year. He just never thought the Illyrian would have the audacity to whisk you away hours after your mating ceremony. 

It must be a Night Court tradition. 

You pushed Azriel away—too gentle for Tamlin’s liking—and stepped toward him. Your eyes were wide, apologetic. You reached out for him, urged him to wrap his arms around you. He did, but not once did he look away from Azriel. He didn’t trust that the Illyrian brute wouldn’t stab him in the back at the first opportunity. Especially not with Truth-Teller strapped to his waist. 

“I can explain, Tam,” you said, cheek pressed against his chest.

Tamlin smoothed a hand over your hair. He tugged on the bond, let you know that he was not upset with you. He could never be upset with you. “You are not to blame, my love.”

“Of course I am. I wanted Az to kiss me.”

A growl rumbled deep in his chest before he could stop it. Okay, perhaps he could be upset with you a little. Though, he supposed he couldn’t fault you entirely for harboring feelings for the Shadowsinger. You had told Tamlin once that, although you were suspicious about Azriel’s motivations at times, he had been something of a friend. The only one, save for your sisters, that you could call a friend. When you’re that lonely, it’s easy to fall for the one person who’s kind to you. But that didn’t mean Tamlin had to like it. 

“He’s my mate, too, Tam.”

He pulled away. He searched your eyes for anything sign of deceit, for any sign of manipulation. Tamlin found none. He looked back at Azriel, who still stood far away, watching you carefully. It looked like he was ready to yank you away from Tamlin at the first sign of distress. Night Court folk always held grudges. 

This was…unexpected. If Tamlin didn’t trust you, he might have thought you were trying to deceive him. Triads had existed a long time ago, when Prythian was in its infancy. There was a time where there were more males than females. People believed that the Mother would allow the female multiple mates in an effort to stop the fighting over the few, precious females that existed. Of course, all of this was speculative—a work of fiction. No one had seen a triad in millennia. No one was sure they’d ever existed at all. 

Yet, when Tamlin pressed his nose to your hair, he didn’t just smell your scent mixed with his. There was something different, less familiar. It was faint. Barely noticeable unless he searched for it. A mating bond, in its infancy. As he turned his gaze to Azriel, he knew who it belonged to. 

“What do you want?” Tamlin near-growled at Azriel, still cradling you against his chest. 

“For her to be happy,” Azriel said. “I was going to let her go, never reveal the bond. I was going to let her live a life with you, but I had to make sure she was happy before I gave her up forever.”

Tamlin wanted to say that you were happy. That you had all you needed here. And, yes, you were happy. You loved the Spring Court. If Tamlin thought you beautiful at the ball, it paled in comparison to the way you seemed to come alive in Spring. But he couldn’t deny that, in recent months, as the Inner Circle stopped coming, as it became clear that Azriel would never visit, that something inside of you was dying.

And he had heard the tail end of your conversation with Azriel before he kissed you. You wanted Azriel as a mate. Tamlin knew better than to deny you of that. He never again wanted to see you as lifeless as you had been when he brought you home from the Night Court. 

“She’s High Lady,” he said, “she cannot be whisked away from here.”

“I understand,” Azriel said. “Perhaps, though, she could spend a few months with me, in the Night Court? Most of her year will be spent here, ruling by your side. I only ask for some time.”

You turned your head to look at Azriel. Your brows pinched together. “You would do that?”

“I would rather only have a part of you than none at all.”

Tamlin looked down at you. He hated the idea of you being taken away to the Night Court. It reminded him too much of how Rhysand had grabbed you and winnowed you away—of how Night’s High Lord had done the same to Feyre years prior. The nasty, jealous part of him roared at the thought of you going. But when he looked at your hope-filled eyes, he knew he wouldn’t deny you. 

To Azriel, he said, “Give us the month to get our affairs in order.”

Azriel nodded. It was done. 

“Be careful with her,” Tamlin hissed.

Azriel rolled his eyes as he picked you up. One hand cradled the back of your head, the other hooked under your legs. Your arms looped around his neck. Though winnowing you would be easier, quicker, Azriel dreamed of flying you to the home he built for you. 

“She is not a doll so easily broken.”

You scratched at the back of his neck. Azriel’s knees nearly buckled. Though you intended the action to be a means of chastising him, he only thought about how nice it would feel to have those pretty polished nails of yours rake down his back. “Play nice. Both of you,” you said. 

Tamlin stepped over to you. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to your forehead. “If you change your mind,” he said, “let me know. I’ll bring you home.”

Azriel stepped away before you could kiss Tamlin on the mouth. It was petty of him, to be sure. But he didn’t like the implication that you would not feel at home with him. What did Tamlin know? He wasn’t there for you when you came out of the Cauldron. When you were only a shell, sat at a piano all hours of the day, the melody of your pain echoing through Velaris. Tamlin was not there to hold you as you cried, begging for the pain to end. Tamlin never begged Rhysand to go into your mind, to give you pleasant dreams, so that even if you only experienced peace in your sleep, at least you got to feel it. 

Tamlin might have taken you from the Night Court. He may have made you his High Lady. And he may love you, but he didn’t know you hurt like Azriel did. He did not make the same promise Azriel did to never let you be hurt again. He did not know that, as Azriel was returning from that mission, he was planning to ask if you wished for him to take you to Spring. He was going to give you the choice that he and the rest of the Inner Circle so terribly deprived you of. Azriel had only been angry when you were gone because he never got to tell you goodbye, never got the chance to see you one last time before sending you off for your fairytale ending. But then, after the Inner Circle’s first visit, Feyre told him you looked like an entirely different person. 

Tamlin might love you, but he wouldn’t sacrifice his happiness to let you be with another male. 

“Are you sure you don’t need anything else?” Azriel asked you.

The week before, Tamlin had sent your clothes, some books, and sheet music ahead. Azriel took special care to set up your room. It was the master bedroom, of course. Azriel relegated himself to a smaller guest room. Even if you were going with him to see if you truly wanted the bond with him, he was not going to force you to share a room with him. 

“I’m sure,” you said. You turned to Tamlin and nodded your head at him, urging him closer. Reluctantly, Azriel did not step away this time. He could deny Tamlin all he wanted, but he wouldn’t do that to you. The High Lord leaned down and kissed you softly. “I’m write you, Tam.”

Tamlin smiled. “I eagerly await your letters.”

After bidding him another farewell kiss, you let Azriel take to the skies. Although Azriel was not fond of his Illyrian heritage—the culture and its males, save for his brothers, disgusted him—he would never tire of flying. He didn’t think it could ever get any better, but that was before he had you in arms, clinging tightly to him while he flew over all of Prythian. 

A laugh, a beautifully loud laugh, escaped you as he pushed himself faster and faster. He shot you a wicked grin and a wink before shooting straight up, turning over backwards, before righting himself on course again. The laugh turned to a scream. Your nails dug into the back of his neck. 

“What?” he teased. “Don’t like going upside down?”

“You’re rotten,” you said, but you smiled up at him anyways. He liked your smile. You smiled with your whole face. Pretty dimples, crinkled corners of your eyes. Even your eyes themselves seemed to twinkle. 

“Yeah? I think you’ll find I’m the rottenest of the bunch.”

“Not so rotten if you’re my mate, though.”

Azriel prayed you couldn’t see how red his face was turning. If you did, you didn’t say anything. Only further settled in his arms, watching the clouds as you passed them by. 

Though Azriel preferred flying fast, loved the thrill of it all, he found himself wishing he had savored this moment a little longer as he landed outside of the home he built for you. He sat you gently on the ground, a hand on the small of your back as you steadied yourself. 

“I thought we would go to the River House or the House of Wind,” you said. 

He couldn’t tell if you were disappointed or not. You only stared up at the cobblestoned cottage, the wisteria growing along the walls. You eyed the window boxes filled with your favorite flowers. Azriel opened his mouth, ready to offer to take you elsewhere, when you turned your gaze to him. 

“What is this place? How have I never known about it?”

“It was supposed to be a mating gift,” Azriel said. He couldn’t look at you, afraid for how you might react, so he stared up at the cottage. “You told me, once, about your dream home. I can only hope that this compares.”

“When did you build it?”

“I started it the day after I found out we were mates,” Azriel said. And because he knew you were going to ask when that was, he continued, “The day Nyx was born—when you were crying because you were so scared about losing half your family and I just held you. That’s when I knew.”

You said nothing for a long moment. Azriel swallowed a lump in his throat, praying to the Mother he hadn’t scared you away. That you wouldn’t ask to be taken back to Spring, this entire thing be damned. You didn’t do that, though. 

No, you stood up on your tiptoes and pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth instead. “Thank you, Az.”

Shadows flitted around the kitchen, grabbing the ingredients you wanted and bringing them to you. Azriel often chided you for turning his shadows, the very things he used to spy and torture and kill, into little pets, but he loved it all the same. There was something he liked about you exposing the darkest parts of him to the light. Besides, it was his fault for leaving the shadows behind with you while he went to the market. 

You placed the tray in the oven, giggling as the shadows pulled you away to shut the door on their own, another group of shadows fiddling with the knobs so that it was at the right temperature. As the brownies baked, you took to cleaning up the mess you made. Humming a tune, you began to collect the dishes, swaying your hips as you took them over to the sink.

In the month since you had returned to the Night Court, you quite enjoyed spending time with Azriel. His plan to sleep in the guest room did not last long, for you found yourself so enamored with him that you practically dragged him into your bed. That was the first time his shadows allied themselves with you. A part of you, now, dreaded the idea of having to leave him behind when you returned to Spring. Tamlin and Azriel did not get on well, but you were certain they could at least learn to tolerate each other if they spent time with each other. 

You dried off your hands, gazing out the window over the sink. Somewhere beyond there were the rest of your family. Though Azriel had reacquainted himself with the Inner Circle, apologized for causing as much trouble as he had, he had not revealed that you were in the Night Court. He glamoured his scent so that they could not pick up on how your own scent mixed in. You wondered how Tamlin might have responded to their inquiries to visit you in Spring, but Azriel didn’t say much besides Feyre worried she had offended you. 

Good, you mused. She should be worried. She had made you grieve your relationship with her. She made you sick as you contemplated where you went wrong. She made you feel like you lost your entire family by choosing your mate. If she sat in worry, she deserved it. 

A shadow tugged on your wrist, alerting you to the fact that the brownies were finished. The shadows didn’t allow you to take the tray out yourself, but did let you begin to cut them and place one on a plate for Azriel. You bit your lip, trying to contain your smile. 

Tomorrow, you were to return to Spring. But tonight, you would accept the bond with Azriel. 

You hadn’t said a word to the shadows about your plan, yet they buzzed around the cottage as they readied for the romantic evening to come. Petals littering the floor, candles lit up around the room, a romantic song playing over the symphonium. You almost thought the shadows wished to seduce your mate more than you did. 

One tugged on your wrist as the door opened. You did hold back your smile this time as Azriel walked into kitchen, setting the bags down on the counter. 

“Welcome home,” you said, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him in for a kiss. 

Azriel smiled against your lips. “What did I do to deserve such a warm welcome?” He pulled away for a moment, sniffing at the air. “Have you been baking?”

“Brownies,” you confirmed. You twisted out of the arms and took the plate that the shadows hovered over to you. “For you.”

He stared down at the plate, then looked up at you. “I couldn’t—” he said. 

You picked up the brownie and brought it up to his lips. “I insist. I have been blessed by the Mother with two wonderful mates, and I intend to have you both fully.”

Thunder rumbled in the sky as Azriel sank his teeth into the treat, never taking his eyes off of you. You swiped your thumb at the corner of his mouth, collecting the crumbs, and licked them off. A growl ripped through his chest as Azriel tugged you against him. 

“I suppose that’s why the cottage looks like something straight of Nesta’s romance novels?”

“You can thank your shadows for that. They did that all on their own.”

“You truly have reduced them to busybodies like all the rest,” he said, though his voice didn’t hold an ounce of malice. Azriel kissed you softly. “I suppose I should thank them, though, because I fully intend to ravish you tonight.”

“Oh, I hope that’s a promise you intend to keep.”

Thunder rumbled again. The scene outside turned darker as storm clouds began to roll in. You were prepared to ignore it all when a flash of lightning made you jump out of your skin. The front door slammed open, the wood hitting the wall so hard you were almost certain it splintered. Azriel’s hold on you tightened. 

The hairs on the back of your neck stood up straight. You peered over to the foyer, blood running cold as you took in the appearance of Night’s High Lord, your sister just a half step behind him. 

“I didn’t think you were so foolish to steal away Spring’s High Lady, brother,” Rhysand said. 

“I was not stolen,” you snapped. “I came here willingly. Tamlin knows exactly where I am, and that I shall be returning to Spring by morning.”

Your sister said your name softly, stepping around her mate and toward you. “You’re already leaving?” she asked. 

“I have been here a month. That is plenty long to be away from Spring and my other mate.”

Feyre’s eyes flicked to Azriel, then to the tray of brownies abandoned on the counter. “You know.”

“No thanks to you,” you said. “How long were you going to let me cry over Azriel not coming to visit before you told me it wasn’t because he hated me?”

“You know I couldn’t tell you. I hated learning about my own mating bond from the Suriel. I didn’t—I couldn’t let you live through that same pain.”

“No, you just let me think my only friend hated me. You let me think you all hated me, because you were too busy trying to find him before my mating ceremony to respond to any of my letters.”

Rhysand’s eyes narrowed at you. “We couldn’t have told you anything. We hardly understand how a triad works. How could we have explained it to you without sounding like we descended into lunacy?”

“You could have said anything!” you protested. “Feyre, you could have told me anything short of the truth. There was a threat to the Night Court, or perhaps that there were some diplomacy issues you needed to tend to. But, no, you rather that I cried to Tamlin every night, prayed that you would send some sort of sign that our relationship was not beyond repair.”

Feyre took a step toward you. Rhysand reached for her wrist, to stop her from nearing you, but she shook him off. “And I will regret that for the rest of my days. You know I have never wanted to hurt you.”

“But you have. You are my sister, Feyre, but you treated me like I was no one to you. Tell me, were my letters to all the others ignored under your orders, too?”

Her glance away from you told you everything you needed to know.

“I spent my mating ceremony, what should have been the happiest day of my life, grieving the loss of my family. I will never get that day back again.” You grabbed for Azriel’s hand, lacing your fingers through his, squeezing tight. “Don’t expect an invitation to the next.”

Feyre’s eyes snapped to yours. Silver lined them. “Please—”

“I would like to return to Spring, now, please,” you said to Azriel. “It seems I have outgrown Night.”

Without a word, Azriel winnowed you away. 

Tamlin stared at your back as you slept. You had been quiet ever since you returned from the Night Court. Tamlin understood—Azriel had explained how Feyre and Rhysand came to the cottage as you were accepting the mating bond with Azriel. He recalled the fury in your eyes as you stated that Azriel would remain in the Spring Court until the frenzy subsided. He didn’t see you much over the following weeks, so he couldn’t speak much to your state then. But when Azriel, rather regretfully, announced he would be returning to Night to deal with the fallout, you began to withdraw. Tamlin was left with the aftermath. And like Feyre before you, he wasn’t quite sure how to make things better. 

Unlike Feyre, he was going to do whatever he could to help you. He would not let you waste away, fade away into nothing. 

Tamlin kissed your bare shoulder then slipped out of the bed. If you noticed, you did not move. He continued on to his study, ignoring the curious looks of the servants still lingering in the halls, and settled at his desk. He procured a sheet of paper and a pen, and began to write. 

Azriel, he began, I apologize for my abruptness, but I must ask that you return to Spring expeditiously. While I understand that the Night Court is your home, Y/N has not been faring well without both of her mates. You do not need to forsake your home, but any time that you could spend here would be appreciated. Yours truly, Tamlin. 

He sent the letter off. Tamlin remained at his desk, waiting for a reply. But one did not have to wait for long as shadows began to soon flood the room. In the past, the sight of the shadows would have made Tamlin’s skin crawl. It was no secret the depths the Spymaster would go to, to extract information from his targets, and those very shadows were just another in his arsenal. But their arrival was signal enough that Azriel had arrived, and that was enough for the weight on Tamlin’s shoulders to lift ever so slightly. 

“Where is she?”

Tamlin rose to his feet. “Sleeping. She doesn’t know I asked for you to come.”

Azriel nodded. A few of the shadows abandoned the study in search of you. The shadows, generally, still disturbed Tamlin. In the month you and Tamlin got your affairs in order, those damned little things scarcely left your side. He was certain they even hissed at him for daring to be near you. Slowly, though, they began to grow on him as they came to the collective understanding that both parties were looking out for your best interests. 

“How have things fared in the Night Court?” Tamlin asked. 

“Feyre is distraught,” Azriel said. He turned his gaze to the ceiling, as if trying to stop them from rolling right out of his head. “Rhys has been insisting I bring Y/N back so they can talk things through. He does not take kindly to my own insistence that, if Feyre wished for things to get better, she should be the one to make the first move.”

Tamlin snorted. “And here I thought you were just a loyal dog.”

Azriel flashed a smirk. “Oh, I am. Just not to him.”

Good, Tamlin thought. If there was anyone who deserved his loyalty, it would be you. Kind, sweet you. Tamlin once thought your family was loyal—they certainly seemed to think they were looking out for your best interests when they took you from the Spring Court. And they had been so diligent about visiting you before. Every month at the start of the month, he would receive a letter asking permission to visit. The Inner Circle always arrived before he could accept. That was, until the invitation to the mating ceremony was sent out. Despite both you and Tamlin sending inquiries and invitations, not a single one ever responded. When they failed to show up at the mating ceremony, Tamlin decided then that he would never forgive them. 

“How long do you intend to stay?” Tamlin said. Azriel brought nothing with him, save for the clothes on his back and the weapons strapped to his waist. 

“As long as you’ll allow it. I tendered my resignation this morning,” Azriel said. “I’ll begin the search for a home here in the morning.”

“Don’t bother,” Tamlin said. Azriel looked stricken. His brows pinched together, mouth settling into a frown. Realizing his error, Tamlin corrected, “You can have a home here if you like. Your own room, or you can share ours. We might have to get a bigger bed, given your wingspan, but it would be no trouble.”

Azriel’s wings twitched. “You would do that?”

“You are her mate as much as I am. You may be willing to settle for only a piece of her life, but I would be remiss if I stopped you from having all of her.” Tamlin waved his hand, urging Azriel to follow him. “I have some more comfortable clothes you can change into. We should both rest.”

“Tamlin—” Azriel said. Tamlin paused. “Thank you.”

“There is nothing to thank me for. Will you need to return to the Night Court for your things, or will you be purchasing replacements?”

As they walked down the hall, the servants even more confused than before, Azriel said, “My shadows will retrieve the necessities. There won’t be much. I intend to have a fresh start here.”

“I suppose it’s a good thing Spring is all about rebirth then.”

“Yeah, I suppose it is.”

Tamlin watched as Azriel smiled when they reached the bedroom. He slipped inside, so silent that Tamlin could’ve been convinced that he was alone if he didn’t see the Shadowsinger with his own two eyes. Tamlin lingered in the doorframe as Azriel approached your side of the bed and knelt down. He pressed a kiss to your forehead, murmured a quiet I love you. 

Your eyes fluttered open. You blinked slowly as you took in Azriel’s appearance. “You’re supposed to be in Night,” you whispered. 

“I believe I’m right where I’m supposed to be.”

You turned your head slightly, brows pinching together when you didn’t see Tamlin laying beside you. “Does Tam know?”

“Who do you think invited me?”

A sleepy smile twitched on your lips. “When do you leave again?”

“Whenever you decide to push me away.” Azriel kissed you. “And not a second sooner.”

Feyre stared at the cream invitation. It had landed on Rhysand’s desk just moments earlier, but she had already read it a dozen times. The words were seared into her mind. You are cordially invited to the mating ceremony of High Lady Y/N and Azriel. But the part she found herself reading over and over again, trying to make sure it wasn’t a figment of her imagination were— P.S. I would greatly appreciate your attendance. You are my sister, and I miss you being a part of my life.

If she went to Spring, she would have her sister again she so terribly pushed away. 

Because she had missed you. It had broken her heart to know you had come to Night to be with Azriel yet never came to see them. She couldn’t blame you, of course. You had been right. Feyre should have said something to you. It wasn’t fair for her to keep you completely in the dark. She hated when others had done it to her in the past. Why did she ever think she could do the same to you? Yet, even in the months afterward, she wasn’t sure what to say to you. 

She still didn’t. 

Feyre sat in the River House, at Rhysand’s desk, glancing between the invitation and the RSVP she was going to send in response. Rhysand stood behind her. When the invitation arrived, he said that the decision was fully hers. That he would support whatever choice to make. To stay in Night and continue to allow the relationship to strain, or to go and begin the mending process. But was there anything left to mend? You were happy in Spring with both of your mates. To go there now would be to ruin the life you’ve built for yourself. 

“Do you want to go?” Rhys asked after several moments of Feyre holding the pen in an ironclad grip.

“I haven’t seen her in months. I haven’t been to Spring in over a year. I wouldn't know where to begin.”

“Because you miss her, and she misses you. Don’t torture yourself with thoughts of maybes and what ifs. You know Y/N wouldn’t have sent the invitation if she didn’t want you there,” Rhysand said. He pointed to the postscript, tapping his finger on it. “It’s a peace offering.”

“I hurt her.”

For as long as Feyre could remember, she had been trying to protect her family. For a long time, it was all she knew. Things changed, of course, when she came to Prythian and her sisters all became High Fae. But the base desire, to ensure their safety and security, still resided deep inside her. It was why she had been so scared when you said Tamlin was your mate. It was why she panicked when Rhysand said Azriel had disappeared after being invited to your mating ceremony with Tamlin. Yet, in both instances, she had been the one to cause your pain. What if that was all she could do now? Maybe she was better off, maybe you were better off, if she stayed away.

Rhys let out a sigh. “You did, but she’s giving you a chance. Isn’t that what you’ve wanted all this time?”

“It is.”

“Then, I think you already know the answer.”

Feyre pressed the pen to the paper. She slowly wrote her response, worried that if she moved too fast, she would write the wrong thing. But, Cauldron, it didn’t feel write to just write a letter to you. If you were truly inviting her back into your life, if you truly were trying to mend the relationship, you deserved more. 

She dropped the pen and rose from her seat. Rhysand followed her and she stalked out of the office. Ignoring her mate’s questions behind her, she went to the living room where the rest of the Inner Circle waited for Feyre and Rhys. Everyone stared at her when she arrived. She couldn’t take this uncertainty anymore. 

“Well?” Nesta asked, breaking the silence. “Are we breaking this ridiculous stalemate together, or will I be going to Spring alone?”

“Together,” Feyre said. “We’ll go together, now. I’m sure they won’t mind a surprise visit.”

Nesta flashed a rare smile. “Good, because Elain and I would have dragged you there kicking and screaming.”

[holrye]

A love she can't have

summary: a window into the sacred nights of a small island kingdoms queen and her lover

tags: plot divergence, smut, fluff, light angst, yearning, implied chubby reader (section is tiny)

a/n: ahhhh, so I'm super nervous to post this, lol. Im not the most confident in my writing, and I've been working on the idea for this for so long. tbh I don't know if I like how it turned out. I made so many different versions, and this is the only one that stuck. I hope you guys like it :)

One night, every six or seven months, the estate of this small island kingdom is empty.

No bustling of maids and butlers as they prepare meals and clean. The orange hue of the lights inside are dimmed and the sheer curtains are often drawn.

A tradition, some would call it. Others would say it's strange. What could the young ruler do all to her lonesome up in that immense estate? Does she force her staff to leave for nefarious reasons? What secrets could she be hiding? All fair questions that will go unanswered for as long as you live. 

Privacy as the ruler of a nation is somewhat expected to wane upon your coronation. The kings and queens before you knew this, and were mindful of it. But never has a ruler taken so many precautions as you on these particular nights. These nights were often random to the public as well, the only sign being when the staff are ushered from the large french doors at the estates entrance. 

What could the diligent leader be cooping herself up for?

Oh, if they only knew…

If your people only knew that their queen was hiding a scandalous affair, with a pirate no less. What would people think? They’d say you’d gone insane, and were seduced by some horrid marauder. You’d lose every ounce of power you gained and be left to fend for yourself. Not a thing to your name other than the clothes on your back, they’d raid the estate and denounce you. 

So, these nights are secret. Whispers between you and your midnight guest that never leave the halls of the estate.

Though the guest in question is far less worried about the conspicuousness of your meetings. Not because he lacks care for your reputation, but because some would say he's a bit obtuse. A fool in love with someone he should never associate with.

-

You only become aware of his visits hours before he arrives, leaving you little time to fruitfully convince your entire staff to leave. Though it sounds unchallenging, your estate employs hundreds of people. Gardeners, chefs, handmaids, every task you could do yourself is done for you, mostly at the behest of your late mother who ruled before you. 

There's only so many excuses you can use without sounding suspicious. You want them to spend the night with their families or you’d like the estate to yourself or you had an awful mark on your back you didn’t want anyone to see as you bathed (that last one only made your head maid look at you worried). 

By now, they’d chalked it up to your eccentricity. The queen is just a bit strange. It made you more likable to some, relatable. There was little judgment, at least to your face, though that too was likely because of your rank. You cared little, as long as they were all gone before he blew in. 

He usually arrived just before midnight, his boat tied just off shore. A small cove sat behind your estate, sharp boulders and thick shrubbery concealing it. This is where he hides his vessel, only doing so after it was nearly found the morning after by a gardener. 

You scolded him harshly in your letters through the following months.

You’d wait on your bedroom balcony, watching the bushes. Sitting at the small table, eagerly stirring your cup of tea and waiting. Your feet are bare, cold from the breeze and the stone underfoot. 

The chill of soft trepidation is a feeling you’ve come to know since you met him. An almost nauseous feeling in your stomach, stiff cold limbs, a heavy chest. The months worth of built up suspense that has you on the edge, tempting you to jump.

Only when a hint of tanned skin is seen through the leaves, does your chest tighten. The bush moves again and his body pushes through, nearly falling to the grass. He catches himself before looking up to your balcony.

A smile stretches his freckled cheeks, and his feet are moving again.

You stand, gulping the last drink from your cup before hastily fixing yourself. Crickets and his heavy breaths as he climbs up the balcony are the only noise throughout the garden. It seemingly makes your heart pound faster, anticipation building in your belly. 

With a few more pulls, the man hops over the banister and stands before you. A shallow and shaky breath leaves your nose. Months of letters, declarations of love and yearning built up to this meeting. It always feels like the first time, standing before him in your frilly nightgown. It's embarrassing and euphoric all at once.

“Long time, no see.” His voice is soft, smile apparent as he speaks.

You smile up at him, blush dusting your cheeks.

“Hello, my love.” Your voice is softer than you mean it to be. He moves a step closer, and you notice the small bundle of letters in his hand. They’re addressed to him and the handwriting is your soft cursive. You question his purpose in bringing them, but don’t ask. 

“Have you eaten?” You ask. It’s a silly question now that you think about it, the man is known for his appetite.

He nods, still smiling as he moves closer again. His hand meets your arm, slowly sliding up to lay against your neck. The movement is soft, his thumb caressing your jaw as he looks at you. 

Your arms move to his shoulders, broad and strong. They slip to the back of his neck, dark, wet hair matting to your hand. He smells of salt water and sweat. He likely had to snow to shore due to high tide, which completely engulfed the cove most nights.

His eyes droop, as he presses a hungry kiss to your lips. It has you curling into him, his full hand meeting your hip. His feet start to move you backward, against the cold stone wall behind you. His hand moves from your jaw to the space beside your head, stealing your breath as he kisses you. Your hands twist into his hair, keeping him there until you both break with a gasp. 

He moves his hand to your lower back, pulling you into him again only for you to press a palm to his mouth. His eyebrows twist as he looks at you.

“I have some things inside for you.” You say, cocking your head to the left.

“Of course you do.” He smiles at you again.

-

Your bedroom, a large rounded room with a bed much too big for one, is lit with hundreds of candles. Two bottles of champagne sit unopened on the table in the middle of the room with two glasses sat to the side. An array of cheeses, bread and fruit sit on a plate to the side as well.

The bedspread is soft below you, your eyes glued to the liquid in the flute as you listen to Ace read your writing. Your hand wrapped around his wrist and your head rests against his hip as his voice nearly soothes you to sleep. You want to make a bed out of his tambre and sleep in it forever.

“I fear the selfishness I feel when you aren’t in my company. I cower at the thought of it boiling over and taking hold of me, interfering in my daily work. I yearn so much for the day I can be with you, freely, without the need to veil our flirtation. To think, I rule a nation as a queen. I wield power most only dream of, and yet I feel powerless in your absence. It nearly sickens me.” He pauses, looking at you over the parchment. 

“A kiss would satiate me for the time being. I soft kiss that speaks your tenor and goes by your name. I look forward to when we meet again, my love. May that heavenly time come soon.” He ends it by saying your signature out loud. He folds that paper again, placing it back in its envelope. 

The look on your face is melancholic, thinking back to the sadness you felt writing those letters to him. How much you missed him and what you would’ve done to see him at the time. It's embarrassing, listening to the heart you poured into the paper for him out loud.

He looks at you again, hand moving to the top of your head. He plays with the hair there, the comfortable silence taking the place of his voice.

“Is Edward well? I heard his health started declining again.” You ask, sipping from your glass again.

He nods, smile fading slightly as he speaks again.

“Yeah, the old man shouldn’t work himself as hard as he does. It's catching up to him.” Whitebeard was an acquaintance of your father, often meeting him for peace treaty signings. Even as a pirate, he’d earned your fathers respect.

“Hardworking as ever.” You smile.

He smiles as you sit up, finishing your glass off and setting it upon the bedside table. 

“You're one to talk, your highness.” He chuckles, extending his arm for you to lay against his chest.

“Ruling a kingdom is a lot of work. I do what I have to do. You’d think being a pirate, he’d use more of his free time being…free.” You say. A soft laugh leaves his chest as he nods his head.

“You’d think.” His voice evens out again as he looks down at you.

Your hand moves to cup his cheek, holding it there for a moment. It’s warm. Everything about Ace is. Whether it be his devil fruit or his personality. He warms your heart in a way you’ve never felt before. It makes it harder when you have to watch him leave, his broad form disappearing in the bushes. You’d say goodbye to him with tears in your eyes as he kissed your lips and abandon that warmth until you saw him again.

“You're so beautiful.” You don’t mean to say it out loud, biting your lip when your mouth speaks before you catch yourself. His lips quirk, eyes half-massed as he gazes at you.

“I could say the same about you, sweetheart.” He chuckles.

The room goes quiet again.

He takes your hand in his, pressing your palm to his lips. It's soft and he keeps moving up your arm, to your shoulder. He pauses a moment before looking at you again. 

“Is this okay?” He asks, kissing your shoulder again. A blush brightens your cheeks. You know what he's asking.

With a dry swallow, you nod and he smiles for the millionth time tonight. He climbs on top of you, moving from your collar bone up to your neck. Your hands move to his head, grasping the hair there at the sensation. He kisses the section just below your ear, sending a shiver down your spine.

A throaty chuckle falls from him as he starts his descent of your body. A kiss pressed to your collarbone, a kiss to your sternum, a kiss to your belly, it's all too much. His hands meet your hips, bunching the fabric of your dress slightly. He moves down, pressing soft kisses to the middle of your thighs.

“You're so soft.” He says, smiling into your sensitive skin. You sigh, wanting nothing more than for him to ravish you like he’s done so many times before. His hands bunch at the end of your skirt, slowly pulling it up inch by tantalizing inch. It's enough anticipation to make you sick. 

He raises the hem to your hips, your lacy undergarments showing. You sit up as he pulls it off of you, your breasts bouncing as they fall. He kisses your lips again, before laying you down on the bed again. Your knees press together, a familiar warmth swirling through your gut and into your core.

His hands land on your hips, softly squeezing the skin that lightly hangs over your panties. Your breath catches when he kneels at the edge of your bed, looping his fingers into your underwear and slipping them down your thighs.

He exhales loudly, seemingly holding his breath before. He takes your knees over his shoulders, nipping at the fat of your thighs. A long stripe from your inner thigh to your groin has you shaking. His hands move to yours scrunched up in the blankets, lacing your fingers together.

A slow lick to your clit leaves you breathless, eyes shutting as you squeeze his hands. 

“You taste so good.” it's muffled by your skin, but you understand him. He licks you again, softly sucking your clit into his mouth. 

His mouth is so warm and wet, it has you in a euphoric state. This feeling only he can give you, one that you want to feel forever. Making love to Ace felt otherworldly, no matter how many times you did it.

“Ace..ah-” Your voice is caught in your throat, his tongue moving down to your hole.

“Yes, my love?” His tone is mocking, as if demanding you answer him. Your lips are raw, drool dripping from the corner of your mouth as you try to speak.

Words fail you, one of your hands moving from his, to his head. Leverage.

He hums into you, slipping his tongue in and out of you a few times before replacing it with his finger. His mouth moves back to your clit and your seeing stars, the blinding white matching the pace of the growing knot in your stomach.

“Ace-” You sigh as your muscles tense up. Your orgasm hits you in waves, leaving your thighs shaking around his face. He sucks the soft skin around your pussy as you come down, hands moving to your thighs.

“Mm, baby…” He says, his voice hoarse as he moves up to your face. Your skin is sticky, hair sticking to your face and palms sweating. He kisses you, the heady taste of yourself on his tongue. Your hands move to his face, draping your arms around his neck.

With little hesitation, he reaches for the buckle of his shorts, dropping them and climbing on top of you. You lift your legs, wrapping them around his hips. 

“You ready?” He asks, and you nuzzle your nose into his. With a huff, he’s pushing in and the both of you sigh loudly at the contact. His movements start slow, smooth.

His hips meet yours and your eyes go white. His hand rests next to your head, his thrusts making his bicep flex a bit. It makes you drool, pressing a kiss to his wrist as he evens out his pace.

“You feel so good…hah-” His breathing is erratic and his other hand moves to the fold of your knee. Your head falls back, moans leaving you otherwise speechless. It feels so good, you can’t move.

His pace picks up, quickening as both of you approach your highs. Your breathing is stunted and your eyes are clenched shut. Ace moves his face to the crook of your neck, licking a strip up to your chin. Everything is perfect.

“I love you.” You say, looking him in the eyes. You swear you feel his cock throb inside you.

“I love you too, your highness.” He smirks.

With two or three deep thrusts, he’s finishing inside you. You scream, voice breaking when you finally cum again. He thrusts a couple more times, only pulling out when his cock stops throbbing. Your pussy clenches around nothing, his cum dripping out of you onto the pristine sheets. 

He falls into the empty space next to you, wrapping an arm around your waist as you clench your thighs together again. The aftershocks leave you drowsy and you roll in to his chest, drifting to sleep.

-

You don’t wake again until the early morning the next day. Ace is awake, his warm hands brushing through your hair. Your eyes scrunch at the brightening horizon before looking back at him.

“You sleep ok?” He asks.

You nod, kissing his jaw before rising to stretch. He rubs a hand down your back and gets out of bed.

Mornings after he visits are melancholy, knowing the inevitable has come to pass yet again. He’ll leave you for another period of time unknown to him or you. Your letters will be the only form of communication you'll have for months. It’s all a bit too much to bear.

You rise, hugging him from behind as he puts his clothes back on. Freckles decorate his back and shoulders and you want to count every one of them.

Before you know it, you stand looking up at him on your balcony wrapped in a sheet. His kiss is as warm as ever, not wanting to leave. You hold him there for a while, tears nearly forming in your eyes already.

“I’ll see you soon.” You nearly whimper. He wipes your eyes with his thumbs, smiling at you. 

“I’ll keep you in my thoughts, my love.” He smiles and you remember your gift you still have to give him.

“Wait!” You say, scurrying inside and grabbing a small locket off of your vanity. You hand it to him, and he opens it.

“Keep it close to your heart.” You say. The picture inside is of you, and it warms his heart. A smile creases his eyes as kisses you again. He kisses your cheeks and your forehead as the sun starts to show over the horizon.

“I love you.” He says, slowly stepping back and over the banaster. You reach your hands out one last time, cupping his face and kissing him before he climbs down and runs through the garden. 

With one final wave and kiss to his palm, he disappears into the greenery.

-

No one knows why the queen hides herself away certain nights of the year. Maybe shes up to nefarious activities. Maybe she does have secrets. 

Maybe she's just in love with someone she can’t have.

[vasito-de-leche]

;R1999 TENNANT - General Headcanons

Compilation of headcanons and analysis on Tennant as a character and other related things.

I missed doing analysis like this and I got burnt out from writing oneshots, so since someone asked for a Tennant post last month or so, here we are <3

she's literally the only 5* I don't have, the woman avoids me like the plague LMFAO. because of this, the screenshots and examples will be taken directly from the fandom wikia!

On the subject of diamonds, Laurence Tennant and the House of Tennant.

I feel like we should talk first about her father, as it will give more context as to her current personality and themes. For the sake of making things less confusing, I'll be addressing Tennant by her real name (Ada) throughout this specific bullet point!

Going by Ada's Cover profile, we can confirm that she was born in Birmingham and at the age of 15, moved with her father to New Delhi.

Thanks to the 01 Story, we understand that the Tennants moved from their homeland because of Laurence's job (mining, identifying and transporting diamonds from British India to the UK). It's also worth noting that the House of Tennant seems to be extremely valuable to the UK because of their mineral/diamond related skills and arcanum - note how Ada's father is titled Sir Laurence Tennant in the first part, and how they strip him of his title.

But what the 01 Story fails to explain is the reason Laurence was persecuted. He's suspected of "an arcanum-related crime, thef, fraud" and other six unknown charges, that's all we know. The 02 Story gives a little more information on the crime he might've committed to have such a large bounty on his head.

"…Laurence Tennant stands accused of an arcanum-related crime, in which he may have turned a batch of diamonds into charcoal on their way to Britain through his arcane skill. The colonial government is still in search of Laurence Tennant and trying to locate the whereabouts of the diamonds and therefore cannot take legal action against the suspect at the moment."

Basically, he does the exact same thing Ada is currently known for. The year this event takes place in is also important - Bluepoch puts a lot of references to real people and events, and given how the House of Tennant lived through the british occupation of India and how they're related to the diamond mining industry, I'd like to talk about a very specific diamond: Koh-i-Noor, one of the largest diamonds in the world.

Now, as usual, I'm only getting this information from skimming wikipedia articles and anyone with more knowledge on this subject is free to correct me or add to the post!

The Koh-i-Noor is notorious for its conflicting and confusing origins, with the earliest mention of its existence being around the 1740s and that it was directly looted from Delhi. This diamond was passed around various royal figures, but we'll focus on what happened to it on the year Laurence Tennant went missing. In 1937, the Koh-i-Noor was put on the crown of Queen Elizabeth for her coronation.

For full transparency, the diamond had been in possession of the Royal British Family since 1851, so the idea that Laurence Tennant might've somehow acquired it while he was aaaaall the way in New Delhi doesn't exactly make much sense. Still, I feel like the year chosen for this event, the themes and the theft of diamonds, plus the subtle emphasis on british colonialism that Tennant's character has, are still worth discussing, to draw more parallels between the real events and the details chosen by Bluepoch.

Laurence Tennant might've or might've not stolen the Koh-i-Noor, for all we know he simply could've switched a handful of regular diamonds for charcoal using his arcane skills. To me this doesn't explain all the chaos that ensued, but it could still be a thing that happened!

My personal headcanon on this matter is that the House of Tennant has been doing this since the very beginning. Father and daughter share the same arcanum, after all. Laurence Tennant was stated to have been working in the diamond industry for many, many years - there's no way he could've missed something as important as the Koh-i-Noor. And in the context of politics, it's way easier to accuse the perpetrator of many different, smaller crimes than the big crime that could ridicule the crown or the authorities in power. I personally like to think this is what happened with the Tennants - that the Koh-i-Noor was found to be fake during Queen Elizabeth's coronation, that they finally realized Laurence Tennant's long scam, and they accused him of minor crimes to save face all while giving him the biggest fucking bounty known to man during those years.

What leads me to believe that the House of Tennant, that both father and daughter were scamming the crown all along, is Ada's 02 Story.

Once her father disappears, he's gone for good. Ada never mentions him again, not in her voicelines, not in her interview with Pandora Wilson. Ada never seems to grieve his disappearance, which seems weird since there's nothing that hints towards them being on bad terms. As far as we know, the Tennant family is only them.

A year after Laurence Tennant disappears from the face of the Earth, his daughter follows. In 1938, Ada also escapes the authorities that were actively supervising her during Laurence's case. We don't know how old she was exactly, other than she must've been older than 15 at minimum. And if she was spotted around the 1940s with her current age being 25, well...

For someone that young to vanish without a trace despite all the constant surveillance, all the attention drawn to her family due to her father's crime - to me it seems like she learned from the best. Especially when she begins her own career of crime in Paris that very same year, using the exact same methods as her father, the legacy of her family.

This would also explain Ada's constant lying and acting. These are all things she learned from her father, someone who was never truly obedient and loyal to the people he worked with.

I would also like to draw parallels between Ada and Druvis III. It's the same argument and parallels I talked about when discussing Forget Me Not. Feel free to skip this, if you already know the deal.

Both characters, Ada and Druvis, were part of important arcanist families, known and respected for their specific arcane skills. Both of them had to leave their homes behind: Druvis, an immigrant forced to abandon her roots and traditions for the sake of assimilating into the "american dream". Ada, who moved into one of the colonies her own country was actively exploiting, an outsider and indirect participant in the mining of diamonds.

Both characters also carry their families and legacies in their names, but whereas Druvis is constantly haunted by her past and the way people continue to talk about her family, the House of Tennant is forgotten. Ada's first birthday quote states:

Many years ago, the Tennants held a birthday banquet for their beloved daughter on this day. But now, almost no one remembers this déclassé family.

The House of Tennant is gone, despite their importance in history and the huge crime commited, no one remembers them. And yet, Ada wears her family name proudly, there's barely anyone left to remember where it comes from and the weight it used to carry.

It's understandable that people recognize Druvis. But why can't people remember the House of Tennant? I don't have an answer for this, I just think it's a very interesting thing, some food for thought!

On the subject of Tennant's ties to New Delhi, colonialism and her stance on racial and arcanist/human issues.

Not to hit everyone with heavy topics, but I feel this is an aspect of Tennant that often goes overlooked in favour of her whole seductive vibes.

Now, Tennant was born in the United Kingdom, but she has a noticeable darker tone to her skin, and while her ethnicity is never stated, it might be implied that she's a woman of color. I've seen people say that she's tan because of the time she spent in New Delhi - she does have a voiceline speaking about the scorching sun - but... She left New Delhi years ago. A tan you get from the sun doesn't ... stick for a decade. That argument doesn't make sense at all to me.

Either way, while I'll be treating her ethnicity as ambiguous, I felt it was important to note out that she might not be white, especially because of the themes I'll be addressing here.

Now, first and foremost I want to talk about the way Tennant talks of New Delhi - this is not the country she was born in, nor the place she was raised, as it's implied that she was also pretty young when she left for Paris. Yet she makes no references to the United Kingdom.

New Delhi? To be honest, I barely remember anything about it. It doesn't make much difference to England, aside from the scorching sun.

This quote? This is a lie. This is Tennant choosing to lie to Vertin for reasons I'll talk about in the next bullet point. How do I know it's a lie? Because the last item you can unlock for Tennant is this.

Cheap accessories she bought in New Delhi. And they must mean a lot to Tennant, because Pandora Wilson notes that it's impressive that she's managed to keep them until now.

The first skin Tennant gets in 1.3 is "Roaming in Delhi".

The text reads:

Back then, whenever there was a day off, I would put on a local outfit and wander around Delhi to visit some historical sites and handicraft shops... Those days were fun. Yours, Tennant.

Clearly, Tennant still thinks about Delhi. The time she spent there must've been important to her because to this day, she still carries part of it with her.

I believe that during her time there, Tennant came to understand the way rich countries exploit others, the lengths they'll go for something as simple as diamonds. And now, knowing that she dressed up as a local and saw their way of life first hand during the british occupation, it gives a lot more depth to her character and why she seems to cherish New Delhi above all the other places she's been in.

I won't pretend I'm a history buff. Again, all this information comes from quick searches and reading wikipedia articles. I'm a person of color myself, but I cannot speak on the struggle India and its people went through.

What I gathered is that Tennant lived through the last stages of the Indian Independence Movement. And given how Tennant was spotted in the 1940's, it's safe to say that she outlived the British Raj, as India gained independence in 1947. The fact that all of these important events were chosen for her backstory doesn't seem like a coincidence to me. It makes sense that Tennant does not abide by laws and is considered a criminal - because the authorities she witnessed were anything but just and fair to the commonfolk. We must also take into account the issues R1999 introduces between arcanists and humans, which overlap with our own racial issues in the real world to a degree.

This might be a reach from my part, but notice how the news from Tennant's 01 Story change when addressing her father. First it's "an official in British India, Sir Laurence Tennant", when they believe him to be missing. Later, after they issue a wanted notice, it's "senior official, mineralogist, arcanist Laurence Tennant". They've already stripped him of his title and now that he's officially a criminal in the eyes of the government, they felt it was necessary to state he was an arcanist. And sure, they also stated his previous role and his job, but as a person of color myself it definitely feels similar to the way POC's ethnicities are highlighted in media whenever they're accused of crimes.

Language and wording matters a lot, and perhaps this is why Tennant knows this, why one of her most effective methods is sweet-talking.

Either way, Tennant does speak of politics and I think her character as a whole was meant to be political given the details we just discussed. There's this exchange at the beginning of her interview with Pandora Wilson:

Pandora Wilson: What's the difference between Britain, India and France to you? Tennant: Nothing different, my beautiful lady. Pandora Wilson: What do you mean? Tennant: For me, humans are all the same, no matter where they are from. Tennant: We share the same virtues and the same weaknesses, and we can't do anything about it. They are part of human nature.

Tennant has experienced all three points of view - that of the oppressor, moving to New Dehli because her family's business is involved in the diamond mining market. That of the oppressed, both as an arcanist and from the times she disguised herself as a local to experience life as just another girl from New Dehli. That of a third party, oblivious to the issues, in a brand new country who does not concern itself with these matters and live a beautiful life in ignorance.

She doesn't see any difference when it comes to all these countries she visited, because she knows of the struggles and how stupid prejudice and bigotry are.

Arcanists, within the universe of R1999, are hinted to be an entirely different race to humans because of the many differences in their biology, with their appearance being one of the things they share. And yet, Tennant doesn't make this distinction - WE share the same virtues. WE can't do anything about it. We are all the same, no matter where we come from.

Tennant, despite the lies she attempts to sell to the world, is an extremely grounded individual, just as multifaceted as the diamonds she recreates!

On the subject of Tennant's lies.

We can't talk about Tennant without addressing her whole lying motif. I've already covered characters who aren't fully transparent with their thoughts, feelings or intentions - not necessarily deceitful on purpose like, let's say, Forget Me Not, but just misleading.

In Tennant's case, this is taken to an extreme.

She's described as a fraudster, a con artist. There's a lot of stress into the fact that one cannot trust her. Deceit runs in her family, her medium is lies, her Inheritance Skill is called "Beautiful Lie". She states that her hobby is "diddling", cheating and scamming others...

And yet, this entire act is a performance.

This might be a controversial take, but Tennant is honest.

She delivers exactly the sort of behaviour and persona that people expect her to, the one she's built throughout the years. She's playing a character and performing for those willing to approach her despite the very red flags - because Tennant makes it extremely obvious that she's not someone to be trusted. You can see it in the way she speaks to Vertin.

Sunlight eases people's mind and endows diamonds with glowing luxury. What a perfect occasion for deceiving.

Good morning, my lady. I've prepared you fresh coffee, sandwiches, and this shiny diamond. Of course, I would never lie to you. This is a piece of cultured work. But look how it sparkles, how elegant, isn't it?

If you want to, you're always welcome at my place. I will be here, with my cleverest scam, waiting for your arrival and, of course, an invitation to yours.

This isn't to say that Tennant doesn't lie - she does that a lot, a good chunk of her voicelines are directly contradicted by her items. The voiceline in the middle is a lie. She's lied to Vertin already, when she said she did not remember New Dehli. She vaguely poses as a man...

If else, lies are to be expected when she's playing her part, when she's painting a picture of her nature as a con artist for you to fall for.

And speaking of falling for Tennant, aside from the whole counterfeit diamond scam, seduction is another aspect to her character. I don't have to go in-depth about this because everyone and their dog has seen her Insight 2 illustration, a good chunk of women who play the game did it because of Tennant's charms. Every day I look through the tag and see people talk about how Tennant was the one character that enticed them to play.

But I will point out a few other details! This is one of her voicelines.

So what's next? The young lady of the rich, resolute and courageous as she is, disregards my humble beginnings and takes her possessions to elope with me. But then, I will leave her and disappear, forever.

And this is the information given for her second birthday login.

On this day, countless maidens in Paris went dizzy with love. They all just happened to encounter an elegant, charming gentleman who gave them a "unique" invitation to a birthday date.

These fleeting relationships, her constant flattery and flirting - they're part of the performance and all the women who fall for it are willing participants. As far as I know, Tennant never steals from them, her targets being merchants and people who can afford to spend money on diamonds so frivolously.

This is why Tennant insists her behaviour is harmless, it's a game. Her conversation in the Wilderness is a perfect example of the way she operates, specifically the way she opens with:

Ironically, diamond itself is a product of lies. I merely add a new layer to it, won't you agree?

The phrase "a product of lies" is very evocative to me. Tennant more than anyone is aware of the truth about diamonds - their value is artificially inflated to support the whole market, but they're not that valuable and they're mostly sold to rich people. So she's right, a diamond is a product of lies! But this phrase could also be read differently, like the way a diamond is born from coal, or the way something so "high class" and brittle could be created through insane amounts of pressure and work. Again,

Bluepoch gives their character many, many layers, the same way Tennant adds yet another layer to the lies of a diamond.

"It's just a lie known to everyone."

So, to summarize: Tennant is honest and upfront about her lies, she's playing a character. Her big scam is to make people fall for something so obvious - she makes maidens fall in love with her despite everything, she makes merchants buy into her fake diamonds. It's both an innocent performance and a risky game she plays. It's like her Ultimate says - she has a sincere heart, just split into many pieces.

What leads me to believe that Tennant is also a very kind-hearted woman is the fact that one of her skills is a shield. This is also something I talked about when analyzing Dikke, since she's also a very violent person whose healing skill give more insight into her character. It's the same for Tennant here!

"People have always dreamed of such thing, no matter it's in the distant universe, or right in front of them."

These little things and the previous point portray a different Tennant altogether - she's offering a harmless, whirlwind romance to many girls out there who are willing to play along, who are enticed by the danger without knowing they're safe and sound by her side, to give them a taste of something beautiful and fleeting. She carries around a gun that is explicitly "seldom pulled out".

To end the post, I have to admit I don't have many in-depth headcanons for Tennant? At least not enough to warrant more bullet points, and I already sprinkled a few throughout the post, so that's about it from me!

[vodika-vibes]

Do It For Me

Summary: You are a Forensic Scientist who has been put in charge of the lab for Coruscant in spite of your youth and your relative inexperience. Due to budget cuts and the fact that there's so much crime on Coruscant, you are severely overworked. Hound takes an issue with that.

Pairing: Pre-ARF Trooper Hound x F!Reader

Word Count: 1837

Warnings: None

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni

A/N: I was writing a Fives fic and it was turning into hot garbage, so I wrote something else instead. And I'm in a Hound mood for some reason. AND I made a new divider for this story specifically.

You are severely overworked. 

You know this. You’ve known this for years. And yet no one seems all that interested in making it better.

You thought, hoped, prayed, that the creation of the Coruscant Guard was going to lessen your workload.

It didn’t. In fact, it just made you busier.

Now there are a lot more men out there investigating crimes, and sending their evidence to your lab, and the same number of techs trying to analyze the evidence.

The turnover rate at your lab is, frankly, embarrassing. 

You’re the employee who’s been here the longest, and you’ve only been here for two years. The fact that you’re now in charge of the lab, at barely 24 years old, is horrifying.

But none of the people who trained you were willing to stay.

And you can’t even keep new hires around for longer than a couple of months.

In fact, you once had a recent graduate that you interviewed and hired, who took one look at her to-do stack, and resigned. She worked less than an hour. You hadn’t even had time to finish filing her paperwork before she resigned.

It was impressive. 

But as impressive as it was, it didn’t help with the fact that you’re one person doing the job of five.

You haven’t seen your apartment in a week.

You haven’t had a vacation since you were hired.

You haven’t slept more than 6 hours a night in over six months.

And still, still, the work keeps piling up.

At this point, every time you close your eyes, you see blood splatter and blaster round trajectory and dead bodies. Every night for the last week, you’ve had nightmares about the morgue-

You need a break.

Desperately. 

But, in the end, it doesn’t matter what you need. Because crimes keep happening, people keep dying, and the evidence keeps piling up, and there aren’t enough employees for anyone to even take a day off, let alone a vacation.

You push your fingers through your hair, pulling it out of the tail only long enough to use your fingers as a brush, and then you pull your hair into a messy knot, and focus your exhausted eyes back on the file in front of you.

30 year old Nautolan Male, found murdered in the lower level. Coroner's report indicates that he was executed, two bolts to the back of the head. Victim was a known member of the Justic-

The words start blurring on the page, and you sigh and press the palms of your hands over your eyes.

You are so kriffing tired.

There’s a sharp knock on your door, and you lift your head as someone clad in gray and white armor walks in. The locations of the colors indicate that he’s a member of the Coruscant Guard, and the colors themselves indicate that he’s an ARF Trooper.

Not for the first time, you curse the fact that the Guard doesn’t allow for more unique body armor paint.

You squint at him for a moment, waiting for your eyes to agree with you so you can focus better on the man standing in front of you. “What’s wrong, Sen’ika, can’t recognize me?”

You recognize the light tone, and familiar nickname, before you recognize the man, and you send up a silent prayer of thanks that the clones only have identical faces, and not identical personalities.

“Hound,” You even sound tired to your own ears, and as he comes closer to you, you see a concerned expression on his face, “Ah, sorry. Sergeant.” You correct hastily.

“You don’t have to use my rank, Sen’ika.” He crouches next to your desk, his sharp eyes taking in the bags under your eyes, the way your hands are trembling, and the blanket and pillow on your couch. “When was the last time you went home and slept?” He asks, his voice gentle.

“Does it look like I have time for that?” You ask as you rub your tired eyes, “I dunno, it’s been a week, I think.”

“Sen’ika,” Hound frowns at you, “This isn’t healthy.”

“It’s not like crime stops because I need to sleep,” You grouch, “And the evidence keeps piling up, and I can’t get anyone to stay longer than a few months and-” You trail off, “And you have another case for me, don’t you?” Your voice becomes dull and almost lifeless.

Hound stares at you for a moment, and then he flashes a small smile. “I don’t, actually. I just wanted to come and see you.”

You squint at him, “Come and see me? Why?”

“Do I need a reason?”

“...I guess not?” You ask, bewildered.

“Exactly!” Hound smoothly slides something onto your desk while you watching him, bewildered, and then he takes your hands and lightly pulls you to your feet, “We’re taking a trip.”

“I can’t! I have-”

“You have a legal requirement to take an hour break every 6 hours.” Hound interrupts, “How many hours have you been working? More than 6 I’m guessing.”

“...Yeah, maybe.” You don’t fight him as he draps an arm over your shoulder and he guides you out of your office, and down the hall, and then outside, to where Grizzer is waiting.

The large massiff immediately bounces around your feet, and you duck slightly to give her a scratch. You’re a familiar person to her, likely because of how often you bump into Hound at various crime scenes.

“You never did tell me where we’re going.” You say to Hound once you straighten back up.

“Trust me.” Hound offers as he takes Grizzer’s leash and then tugs you against his side.

You’re a little confused at the way he’s being so comfortable with touching you, but you’re also not too bothered. Hound is Hound, after all. He’s always been safe.

So, as he leads you down the street, you don’t offer any complaint outside of a very weak argument that you needed your purse and your comm. And, with a laugh, Hound disagrees.

Hound doesn’t have an office, per se, but he does have his own space where he’s able to do his own paperwork, and where he can take Grizzer when she gets overwhelmed.

And apparently, where he brings overworked and underpaid civil servants who are working themselves to death.

His sen’ika is sitting on the old, worn couch he got from somewhere, her arms draped over Grizzer who is asleep on her lap. She looks exhausted. The kind of exhausted that he’s only seen on Fox before.

In a word, he’s worried.

“Sen’ika,” He coos the familiar nickname, and she lifts her gaze to look at him through hazy and exhausted eyes, and even then she’s the most stunning woman he’s ever met, “You can lay down and take a nap, I won’t judge you.”

She’s already shaking her head, “I have to get back eventually.”

“But if you get up, you’ll disturb Grizzer.” Hound points out.

She looks down at Grizzer, and she must be more tired than he thought because she just looks puzzled, like she can’t quite figure out the best way to get free. His worry increases.

“Just a short nap, sen’ika.” Hound encourages, “You’re not going to be able to finish your work with how fuzzy you are right now.”

For a moment she looks like she’s about to agree, but then she presses her lips into a thin line, “I have to get back, Hound.”

Hound leans back in his seat, his mind racing. He can’t let her go back. Not in this state. And using Grizzer as an excuse isn’t going to work anymore, he already knows.

“Alright,” He says slowly, thoughtfully. 

He gets to his feet and carefully moves Grizzer, and then helps his sen’ika to her feet. Hound isn’t the least bit surprised when she stumbles into him, though he is glad that he thought ahead and removed the majority of his armor.

“...m’sorry.” She says quietly.

Hound closes his eyes for a moment and then, very gently presses his hand against the back of her neck, holding her against him. “You haven’t done anything wrong.” His voice is soft, soothing.

Her hands come up to press against his chest, and for a moment, Hound thinks she’s going to push away, worries that he pushed too hard. But, instead, she curls her fingers into the thin material of his blacks. “I’m so tired,” She whispers, and her voice cracks.

And that’s what Hound was waiting for.

His free arm wraps firmly around her, holding her tight, “You don’t have to go back to work. You need to take a break.”

He feels her tears soaking into his top and Hound turns his head to press a light kiss to the side of her head, “Someone has to do it-” She whispers, her voice thick with tears.

“That someone doesn’t have to be you.” Hound murmurs in reply as he slowly, and carefully, walks her back towards the couch. He readjusts her, and then sits on the couch, while holding her close. “We can reach out to the Jedi, they can help you.”

“The Senate-”

“Kriff the senate,” Hound’s voice holds no heat as he gently offers what comfort he can, “You’re working yourself to death, and I’m not going to tolerate it anymore.”

She pulls away from his shoulder and looks up at him through miserable, watery eyes, “Why do you care?”

“Because you’re my friend. Because I care about you.” Hound brushes his fingers against her cheek, “because I love you more than anything in this galaxy. Take your pick.”

She blinks at him, and then drops her head on his shoulder. She doesn’t say anything positive, but she also doesn’t say anything negative, which is good enough for now.

It’s not fair to spring love on her when she’s so exhausted. The fact that she’s not running away is good enough for now.

“Will you stay here and take a nap?” Hound asks as he strokes her back lovingly, “For me?”

“Every time I try to sleep, I have nightmares,” She admits quietly.

“Then you can sleep on me. I’ll wake you if you look like you’re having a nightmare. I promise.” Hound offers. “What do you think?”

She sighs, soft and quiet, “I suppose I can agree to that.” His sen’ika’s eyes drift shut, and Hound carefully adjusts her so that she’s leaning against him comfortably. 

Fox is going to blow a gasket, but if he words his request properly, maybe then the Guard and the Forensics unit can get Jedi oversight. That can only help with his poor Sen’ika’s problem, and it’ll keep Fox from working himself to death.

Hound glances at the woman in his lap, and his gaze softens, before he presses a light kiss to the top of her head. That’s a problem for later, for now, he has the love of his life asleep in his arms, and he’s going to just enjoy it while he can.

[hlficlibrary]

✤ Royal Fics ✤

A series of posts with the top five fics of each category by kudos plus five more hidden gems from that category! Remember to leave kudos and a comment on the fics you enjoyed to show your appreciation! You can find our other recs here.

- Top 5 H/L Fics -

1️⃣ Nothing But You On My Mind by nonsensedarling / @absoloutenonsense {E, 84k}

Louis Tomlinson is a PR manager hired to improve the image of royal bad-boy Prince Harry Styles. Unfortunately for him, that means being faced with the Prince's constant innuendos, incessant dirty jokes, and relentless flirting. Louis just wants to make it to Princess Gemma's coronation; once she's crowned Queen, his contract is up and he never has to see the Prince again.

2️⃣ Queen of Arizella by seducedbycurls {M, 277k}

Stealing from Royalty is punishable by death.

Louis starts over, doing his best to keep his hands at his sides but he is hungry and he tries stealing from the wrong Royal.

Harry is King of Arizella, he needs a Queen and who better than an omega on the run from death? Louis will learn to become the perfect Queen -the perfect fake Queen, but only for a few months.

A fake lover, a fake Queen, but a real bond.

3️⃣ Pretty Boy by iwillpaintasongforlou / @stfustucky {E, 32k}

Harry's been forced into a high-class prostitution ring because his heroin-addicted mother is too strung out to realize that her boyfriend is pimping out her son. Louis is the crown prince of England and gets into a lot of mischief and thinks it's normal to pay prostitutes to "get a good night's sleep." They probably aren't meant to see each other beyond that one random night, but then again, they probably aren't meant to see each other at all.

4️⃣ Celebrity Discount by LoadedGunn {T, 27k}

Louis fell for Prince Harry when he was ten and Harry was eight and peeked behind the Queen’s elegant gown for his first public appearance—a shy smile and a mess of curls. He fell for him when he caught Lottie putting up a magazine cover of Harry on her wall and all she had to say for herself was, “He’s such a good person, yeah?” and, yeah. He fell for him when Harry gracefully accepted his demotion. He fell for him when Harry came out and stayed out.

5️⃣ Sail Across Me by iwillpaintasongforlou / @stfustucky {E, 21k}

Harry is a prince that is about to be forced into marriage against his will and running away to sea seems like a much better option. Louis is the captain of the infamous pirate ship The Rogue and he has a thing for helping defenseless creatures. Especially when they're as pretty as this one.

HIDDEN GEMS:

💎 Unveiled by @phdmama {M, 65k}

The train grinds to a halt and Harry leans forward in his eagerness to take it all in. It’s a gorgeous Spring day, the sky the same intense blue that he knows from home, which comforts him. There’s much here that looks almost familiar, but then so much that is new and strange to his eyes. The bustling station platform and winding streets beyond paved in cobblestones look much like home. There are vehicles ranging from small to very large, some with strange and unusual shapes of which he can only guess the purpose. But most surprising are the people. There is a crowd gathered, filled with men and women, some in what looks to be a military uniform, some in what must be the street clothes in this Land.

There are no robes. And not a single one of them is veiled.

💎 dip you in honey by delsicle / @eeveedel {E, 28k}

Princess Harry, the pearl of England, is set to be married to the youngest prince of France in just six months. Anxious about his performance on his wedding night, he enlists the help of his loyal handmaiden Louis to help him practice everything he needs to know

Omega/Omega AU

💎 foothold by @turnyourankle {M, 18k}

Louis has crossed the galaxy with a ship full of crystals; they’re the only thing he has to offer in exchange for safe harbor. He thought getting to his destination would be the hardest part, hoping that once he got his family to safety everything would fall back into place; Louis struggles to adapt while his sisters thrive. Louis suspects Emperor Styles may have something to do with it.

💎 The Prince and The YouTuber by @haztobegood {E, 12k}

The Annual Rosendal Spring Gala hosted by the Royal Family is the most prestigious fundraiser in the country. When a problem with the honorary foundation arises, Crown Prince Louis Tomlinson must pick a new worthy foundation on short notice. He discovers the perfect replacement in an unlikely place, while watching his favorite YouTuber, Harrysparkles.

💎 i know i've grown (but i can't wait to go home) by LiveLaughLoveLarry / @loveislarryislove {T, 7k}

When Louis falls down a hill behind an old castle, he wakes up and finds the castle new and full of life. It's confusing to say the least.

“What year is it?” Louis asked.

Harry’s befuddlement was only growing. “It’s… 1369?”

“Nice,” Louis said instinctively, then, “Sorry, not related. Okay. Wow. So, when I woke up this morning, it was 2019.”

[wheels-of-despair]

🧝‍♀️ w/ Eddie

(Google informs me that this is a Lady Elf. 😂)

"You okay in there?" Eddie asks through the bathroom door.

"Tell the coroner my cause of death was asphyxiation by hair spray. And tell him there's no rush; the chemicals will probably preserve me for a few days."

"C'mon, let me see."

You heave a sigh, adjust your stupid push-up bra, and open the bathroom door.

Eddie's jaw drops.

"Is it bad?" You look down at your Arwen costume self-consciously, wondering if you've done something wrong.

Your Aragorn shakes his head, eyes wide and staring. Guess the bra and the extra effort with your hair were worth the trouble after all.

"Figured you'd have a nerdy quote ready for me," you tease, wondering how long it'll be before his brain starts functioning again.

"I… uh…" he licks his lips. "I forgot it."

"I'll take that as a compliment," you smirk. "Shall we?"

"You know, Halloween parties are kind of overrated, maybe we should just stay home…" he suggests with a devilish glint in his eye.

"Nice try, Munson. You owe me cheap beer and a night of remembering why we hate our peers."

"Yes, my queen."

wheels-of-despair's six-month fic-iversary emoji-bration

[libraryofgage]

The whole thing was meant as a means for Eddie to walk straight into enemy territory without anyone else blinking an eye. And they were only doing that so Steve wouldn't have to walk into enemy territory alone. Unfortunately, a bard of Eddie's...reputation wouldn't exactly be welcome in a Duke's manor, but the esteemed, mysterious knight of the Crown Prince Steve Harrington currently touring the land prior to his coronation? Well, nobody is going to bat an eye in suspicion; though quite a few maids did bat their eyes in attempted seduction.

Unfortunately for them, Eddie couldn't tear his eyes away from Steve long enough to notice.

Crown Prince Steve.

His Royal Highness Steve.

His Stevie.

Not once in their six months traveling together had Steve ever let on that he was nobility, much less the blasted Crown Prince. Then again, they had both assumed their acquaintance wouldn't be lasting long, even when they grew closer and started actively looking for excuses to stick together. When some exhausted messenger had finally managed to find Steve with Eddie (three pints of mead in) at a run-down bar in the countryside, Eddie had discovered the perfect excuse and a rather big secret.

He'd also seen how nervous Steve looked, how absolutely desperate he'd seemed to apologize and pray Eddie wouldn't feel betrayed. Steve had been biting his lip, his fists clenched, his shoulders tensed, and Eddie...Eddie has never been a strong man. He's been resourceful, sure. And he's definitely been mischievous and cunning and joking and anything else.

But strong in willpower? No. Never. Especially not when faced with Steve's pretty...well, his pretty everything.

So he didn't get mad. In fact, he genuinely wasn't. Everyone has their secrets, and after knowing Steve, Eddie understands why he doesn't want anyone to know about the royalty thing. As much as Steve is good at acting and pretending, he's too easily weighed down by the work.

That much is evident when he collapses after they finally finish greeting Duchess Carol and enter their rooms.

"Is she always like that?" Eddie asks once the door is closed, thinking of the Duchess's insults that Eddie would have missed entirely if not for the subtle twitch in Steve's jaw. She'd made implications about Steve’s legitimacy and insulted a Marquise and quite bluntly asked whether Steve was finally tired of "living among uncouth common people" in the five minutes needed to accompany them to their rooms.

Steve has flopped face down on the large bed, his agreeing hum muffled by the softest sheets Eddie has ever fucking seen. His eyes light up, and he carefully sets the sword on his waist (Steve's, the one he painstakingly cares for and polishes and lent to Eddie to really sell the whole knight act; thank the First Realm that he didn't have to wear armor, too) onto the couch. He then walks over to the bed, smiling gleefully as he leaps into the space next to Steve.

His elbow jabs Steve in the ribs, their heads nearly knock together, and Eddie hears Steve laugh for the first time in days. It sends his heart racing with relief and joy and anxiety, and he wants Steve to keep laughing just like that. "You okay there, Stevie?" he asks.

After a few seconds, Steve turns his head to face Eddie, close enough that their noses are brushing and Eddie could count his eyelashes. "Probably not," he admits, "I hate all this stuff."

"All of it? I always thought living in a castle must be pretty nice."

Steve scoffs and turns onto his back, staring up at the ceiling while Eddie can't bring himself to look away. "It's so...artificial. Nobody says what they mean, nobody means what they say, and if you don't keep up appearances, you're shunned."

"Who in the Five Realms is shunning the Crown Prince?"

Steve gets a slight smile but doesn't answer his question. "I'd rather be taking on another request with you than suffering through political navigation," he whispers, turning his head back to look at Eddie.

Every fiber of Eddie's being is begging him to take Steve's hand and just fucking run away. The Duke and Duchess and request from Steve's royal parents be damned, the pay-off be damned, and the incredibly soft sheets on the bed be damned. Nothing is worth the exhaustion already evident in his Stevie's eyes.

But he can't, so he just leans closer until their foreheads are pressing together, closer than they've been since hiding from gorgons in a narrow cave three weeks ago where they were chest-to-chest and waist-to-waist. Close enough that he can feel Steve's exhales brush against his lips and wonders not for the first time what Steve would taste like. Eddie's mouth suddenly feels dry, but he ignores it.

"I don't mind being here," he says softly, losing himself in Steve's eyes, drowning in the brown flecked with gold. "I'd walk into Hell if you were the one leading me by the hand, sweetheart."

It's maybe the closest Eddie has ever come to admitting...well, anything about his feelings. And it's fucking terrifying. His heart is racing, his back feels soaked in a cold sweat, his lungs can't quite fill with enough air, and he's frozen by Steve's widening eyes. But cowardice be damned along with everything else, he needs Steve to know he won't be alone, that someone is going to stay by his side no matter the place or the act he has to put on.

Before he can wonder if there's anything else he can say to make Steve feel better, he feels a soft, brief pressure against his lips. A few seconds pass after it's gone before he realizes two things. One: the Crown Prince, Steve, his Stevie kissed him. Two: it wasn't nearly long enough for Eddie to find out how he tastes, and that's unacceptable.

"Shit," Steve mutters, pushing himself up and preventing Eddie from actually conducting his official first foray into plundering his lips. "I'm sorry, Eds. I shouldn't have done that. I don't...you don't need to deal with...with all of this like that. I'm sorry."

Eddie frowns and pushes himself up as well. He then thinks for about two seconds before launching himself into Steve's lap, straddling his thighs, and holding Steve's face between his hands. Eddie forces him to look up, meeting those worried brown eyes and their anxious flecks of gold with a reassuring smile.

"Don't apologize, sweetheart. I'm only upset about one thing," he croons, leaning in closer until he can count the freckles peeking out from behind Steve's blush.

Steve swallows, and Eddie feels the way his jaw shifts with the action. "What, uh, what's that?" he asks, his voice strained and nearly cracking at the end.

And Eddie thinks it's a good thing he's not a knight after all. He'd suck at holding Steve so high above him that he's untouchable. Because Eddie is incapable of devotion to such a degree. His devotion takes the exact opposite form. He has to touch, has to feel, has to enjoy and cherish through sweet words and lingering kisses and warm cuddles during sleepy mornings.

"Well," Eddie says, moving to tuck a few strands of carefully styled hair behind Steve's ear, "it's actually more than one thing. You didn't kiss me long enough. You also didn't let me kiss you back before pulling away. And, worst of all, Stevie, you didn't even use your tongue!"

Steve blinks, and then he can't help laughing, trying to hold it back only to fail in a way Eddie absolutely adores. He dips down, kissing Steve before he can catch his breath, inhaling the last of his laughter and letting the taste of it, of Steve, of the joy of them together linger on his tongue and behind his teeth.

[ataleofcrowns]

Bonus Lore: Crowns of Old, Part III

[ Part I | Part II ]

Back with another lore drop from the Patreon!! This time we'll be looking at the Eighth, Ninth and Tenth Crowns ✨

The Eighth Crown: Bargiran of Great Mercy

When speaking of Crowns that are of more humble backgrounds, Crown Bargiran is the one that comes to mind first. Due to the plague that swept through Arsur during the reign of Crown Lorîcan, Bargiran lost both her parents and was orphaned at a young age. Her older sister did her best to take care of them both, but she was only barely an adult herself, and they struggled greatly. Many nights were spent sleeping on the streets and begging for scraps of food.

It was Bargiran's great fortune that they were found, yet it was even greater fortune to Arsur. Bargiran had an uncanny talent in healing magic. Many of her days as an orphan was spent helping at a public health clinic in exchange for food, where she quickly discovered her talent for magic, and especially her talent for healing and alchemy.

Shortly after, Crown Lorîcan received her vision, which showed her Bargiran. At this point, Lorîcan had already imprisoned her previous Sorcerer months before. As the plague continued to sweep through the lands, unabated, she knew that she was running out of time to find her successor. There was a real risk that Bargiran could die before Lorîcan could find her, in which case there could be an unprecedented crisis in Arsur.

No one knew what would happen should the successor die before they could officially receive the Blessing of the spirits during their coronation. Some scholars worried that it would bring the line of Crowns to an end. As such, no resource was spared to find Bargiran. Thankfully, she was found before disaster could strike.

Unfortunately, Lorîcan's tutelage was extremely short-lived. Only weeks after finding her successor, she would show signs of being infected herself, and within days she passed away. Bargiran became the Crown at the young age of sixteen--the youngest a Crown has ever taken the throne--and made it her sole purpose to put an end to the plague. Either by finding a cure, or by curbing it as much as possible.

It was upon her coronation that she chose the name Bargiran for herself, meaning "one whose burden is heavy". She knew it would be an incredibly difficult task. It would take ten years before Bargiran, together with expert healers from all over Arsur and even beyond, would find a cure. The need for it became even more dire for Bargiran personally when her sister fell ill.

Bargiran worked herself to exhaustion, famously fainting during a court meeting and falling off the stairs of the throne room, nearly breaking her neck were it not for her Royal Protector. Eventually, her efforts bore fruit, and after a long, devastating decade, Bargiran found a cure at the young age of twenty-six years old.

However, it was a great tragedy that she could not find the cure in time to save her sister. People far and wide considered Bargiran to be one of the greatest Crowns in history, likening her to a savior, yet Bargiran never forgave herself for not being able to cure her sister in time. While she helped Arsur heal from its wounds, Bargiran would never be able to heal herself.

The Ninth Crown: Beloved Dila

Dila became the Crown during a time of relative peace; there were no wars to be fought, and Arsur had finally reached a point of stability. Dila’s reign was best known for the flourishing of arts and culture within the Empire. In fact, it was during her/their reign that pleasure houses grew into the influence they now possess.

Crown Dila was known for being a beauty without compare. It wasn’t solely their looks, but also their innate charm that drew people to them; rather, her charm enhanced her appearance into something of almost mythical proportions. A few historians have encountered accounts that say that Crown Dila’s magic itself was the cause, that she possessed a peculiar aura that wasn’t quite elemental in nature, but rather one that enchanted onlookers. These accounts were not verified, however, and officially Crown Dila’s magic is listed to have been an Earth affinity.

Centuries later, poets still compose verses referring to Crown Dila, describing rosewater flowing from their darkly coiled tresses, or the light of the moon held in the night of her eyes. There is even a famous story written of Crown Dila’s encounter with the peri queen, where it is said Dila charmed even Queen Nis and was granted a blessing by her that would ensure a long, peaceful reign.

During their lifetime, Dila had the most lovers out of any Crown to date. Their royal concubines numbered into the two dozen at their largest recorded size, though Dila formally courted only four people during their reign; all four became Jewels of the Crown as well. Dila was very free with her affections, but also selective in who she romanced, even casually. 

Their royal concubines were almost all artists, of various kinds. Painters, sculptors, dancers, singers, musicians, poets, writers and storytellers, even weavers of cloth and carpets—Dila greatly admired and loved all kinds of artistic expression. 

Being a royal concubine usually meant to be committed to the Crown, but Dila went against convention and allowed their concubines to court whomever they wished. Many of Dila’s concubines were artists who worked for pleasure houses, and thanks to gaining Dila’s favor, their pleasure houses rose in status as well.

The Tenth Crown: Love-blind Jiyan

Jiyan was known for her/his/their love for life. It was undoubtedly the influence of their mentor, Crown Dila, who was famous for guiding Arsur into an age where the arts would flourish. This continued under Jiyan's reign, as he was equally fond of all the best things life had to offer. Perhaps to an excess.

While Jiyan was a very capable Crown, especially good at navigating difficult diplomatic relations, they were also a very passionate person who tended to have an impulsive streak. Early in her reign this was brushed off, as everyone assumed Jiyan would mature into her role. He was only crowned at the age of twenty, after all, and would gain wisdom with time and experience.

Unfortunately, no one could anticipate the disaster that Jiyan's impulses would drag Arsur into.

It started as an innocent flirtation. Jiyan noticed the provincial army commander of Zerat during one of their court meetings. The commander in question, Asin, reported to the Crown regarding conflicts with some rebellious nobles within the province.

Jiyan was immediately taken with him. Commander Asin was of equal age to Jiyan, very accomplished at only twenty-eight years of age, and also said by some to have an appearance that was quite pleasing to the eye. Jiyan would find excuses to talk to him while he stayed at the palace, and Asin--very flattered the Crown would give him any attention at all--indulged her quite readily.

Soon, Asin found himself seeking out Jiyan as often as Jiyan would visit him. With the Royal Palace being in Zeratun, where Jiyan preferred to stay, it was very easy for the two to see each other whenever they wanted. Before either of them realized it, what had started as playful banter quickly spiraled out of control over the next few weeks.

It became a whispered rumor among the servants that the Crown had started to invite Zerat's army commander to his chambers. Jiyan's Sorcerer and Royal Protector already knew, of course, but they didn't think it necessary to intervene. The Imperial Court, however, had other thoughts.

They confronted Jiyan on her relationship with Asin during a court meeting. While some were clearly taking advantage of the rumors to weaken Jiyan's position, others had sincere reservations about whether it was a good idea to take a subordinate in charge of a sizable portion of the military as a lover. Zerat's army was the largest and strongest out of all the provinces, eclipsing even the Imperial Army at the time.

Jiyan dismissed their concerns, and the matter was closed, albeit not settled. While Jiyan and Asin's relationship had started out well, over time, they started to argue more and more. Not about their relationship, but about military matters. It soured their romance, both having part of the blame. Asin started voicing opinions on the Imperial Army which was far beyond his station, and Jiyan started belittling Asin's opinions on matters he did have expertise in.

The last straw came when Jiyan ordered Asin to round up the rebellious nobles and officially imprison them. Asin knew it would inflame the situation, but he was also incensed to be condescended to yet again, for a moment forgetting his rank. His outright refusal infuriated Jiyan who, in another moment of impulsiveness, stripped Asin of his rank.

To Asin, it felt like betrayal of the worst kind. He was disgraced, humiliated. To the servants and guards who witnessed the huge blow-up between the two, it came as little surprise when a few weeks later, reports came in that Zerat's provincial army had joined the ranks of the rebels and had begun an uprising in earnest.

Jiyan was struck with shame and regret, at many things. How he had treated Asin, and even having begun a relationship with Asin to begin with. The civil war that followed was a bloody one, though it was confined to Zerat and put down within the year.

The Crown was not present for any of the battles, or for Asin's eventual capture and execution. She never spoke of him again, and it was understood that one should never mention his name in Jiyan's presence.

The civil war that was waged during their reign became known as the War of Lovers.

[throneofsapphics]

cold shoulder

Rowaelin x f!Reader

Summary: You got into an argument with Aelin, and she gets sick of you ignoring her.

A/N: Tiny plot, mostly smut.

Word Count: ~3.4k

Warnings: NSFW, possessive, overstimulation, slightly dark, light d/s. I think that's it.

I’d finally made a friend. It took nearly six months, the entire castle avoiding me like the plague after I came to live here. The Queen and King’s mate, whispers would follow me, somehow unaware I could hear them. 

Both Rowan and Aelin were gone, leaving me to my own devices in the castle. My head was pounding, and I made my way towards the healers room. The castle always had one on call. I know where it is, but I’d never visited. I took a few breaths to center myself, facing the heavy oak door, and knocked three times. 

“Oh come on in you bastards.” The voice, a female - or woman, chuckled from within. I fought the urge to smile, pushing the door open. 

“Apologies if I wasn’t who you were expecting.” The woman standing in the room squeaked, dropping the glass in her hands. A wave of magic caught it and laid it on the table for her. “I’m Y/N.” I introduced myself, but didn’t hold out a hand. It was polite to let her do that. 

“Oh Gods I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to call you that. I’m Reina” 

“I’m happy to meet you Reina. I heard I might find some tea here. To help with headaches..” I shifted back and forth on my feet as she jumped up, ruffling through some of the several jars of dried herbs, to make a small mixture, placing it in a small glass canister and screwing the lid on. “You’re a saint,” I breathed, and she laughed. 

“Would you like for me to brew it for you?” 

I debated for a few long moments. It couldn’t hurt to talk to someone. “I’d love that.” I finally said. She nodded rapidly before fluttering around the room again. I made casual conversation, asking her where she’s from, about her family, and what she thinks of the castle. Of course she didn’t dare say anything negative about it. Even if she did, I wouldn’t report back. 

“Thank you.” I said as she pushed the warm mug in my hands, along with the tin full of more herbal mixture. Staying here to drink it might be pushing her comfort levels. “I’ll return the mug.” 

She smiled, opening the door for me. “It was lovely to meet you.” 

“And you as well.” Her voice squeaked again.  

-

I was chatting with Reina, the woman who’d given me the tea all those months ago. I’d visited her again a few times, and she’d always been more than helpful - always had a solution or a brew for something. Honestly, I craved company as well, and she was cheerful and knowledgeable. I learned so much about herbs and plants from her, and soaked the knowledge up like a sponge - even going to pull some extra books in the library. 

Reina and I stopped towards the end of a hallway, when she told me she’d be leaving, at the end of the week - back to her village. She’d been here on an apprenticeship, to learn more and go back to serve her village. A program that Aelin started years ago, shortly after her coronation. 

I gave her a tight hug, she seemed surprised but hugged me back. “I’ll miss you.” I sighed, pulling back and grasping her forearms, as she held mine. 

“I’ll miss you too.” 

“Maybe I can come visit?” 

“I’d love that.” Reina beamed. 

I felt her presence then. Aelin. I stiffened, and dropped Reina’s arms to see my mate a few paces away, glaring daggers into Reina, who looked absolutely petrified. 

“Leave.” She ordered my friend, who scurried down the hallway, almost running. 

“She’s my -” I turned and hissed. 

“Not. Here.” Aelin said through gritted teeth, pacing towards me to stop right in front. She wrapped an arm around my waist, gripping tightly and walking back towards - towards my rooms? They were closer I guess. Her touch was laced with pure possession. 

“What -”

“Wait.” She interrupted my sentence again, and I clenched my teeth. Her grip tightened, holding me closer, her fingers digging into my side. That might be a bruise tomorrow. We finally got to my rooms, and I looked to her for an explanation. 

“I can smell her on you.” Aelin’s eyes were narrowed. My mouth opened, but before I could speak she said, “Go take a bath.” 

“Excuse me?” My eyes widened. Is this a real conversation?

“Go take a bath. Her scent is on you.” Aelin tugged at the mating bond, sending her emotions down it. The jealousy. Something with the bond encouraged me to yield, to give in to her will - to please my mate and make her happy. 

I rolled my eyes, but didn’t say another word and spun on my heel, stomping off towards my bathing room. I despised myself for it. 

I ran the water, making sure it was hot, and threw my clothes in the basket. I scrubbed my body down with the rose soap, the one Aelin had got for me after she found it was my favorite. Once my skin was scrubbed pink and my hair washed clean, I dried myself off and focused on keeping my cool. I threw some clothes on. Fleece lined leggings, and one of my favorite long sleeve tops - cut right below my navel, and flowy. A beautiful darker green color - Terrasen green. Apparently my subconscious is doing everything it can think of to please my mate. 

I took a few conscious breaths and stalked back through the door, letting it swing shut behind me. I stopped a few paces ahead of her, and crossed my arms, not bothering to put a pleasant expression on my face. Aelin’s eyes narrowed, but she looked at me almost approvingly. 

“All to your liking, your majesty?” I used the term to tease her. To aggravate her a bit. Based on how her nostrils flared, it worked. 

She circled around me, much like a predator. I felt myself stiffen, a bit of fear creeping in. “Good, I can’t scent her.” She spit out the last word ‘her’, like she was some sort of demon. My shoulders relaxed a tiny bit. Gods, this is ridiculous. 

“She’s my friend.” I exclaimed. “I hugged her because she’s leaving.” I heard her say something under her breath, something suspiciously like if she wasn’t leaving I’d make her, but I chose to ignore that, and pretend it didn’t come out of her mouth. “Am I not allowed to have friends now?” I said sarcastically. 

“Not when I can scent their arousal on you.” 

My jaw dropped. “She’s just a friend.” 

“Have you told her that?” 

“Of course I have.” I swallowed harshly. “I’m needed in the library,” I muttered, walking maybe a bit too quickly out of the room. 

“This conversation isn't over.” Aelin growled from behind me. 

I stopped in the doorway, turning to face her. “It is for now,” and strode out of the room, letting it slam behind me. 

-

Y/n was pissed, and I couldn’t figure out why. Everything was … almost normal, but she avoided touching Rowan and I, shrugging away from any kind of intimacy, and spent more time than usual in the library. I asked the head librarian, who feigned ignorance. I didn’t push the woman for answers, not wanting to cross that boundary. 

After three days, I cracked and asked Y/n. Her mates eyes darkened. “You don’t remember?” She spit out, teeth clenched. 

I fought the urge to laugh at the venom in her voice, completely at odds with her normal demeanor, but I knew it would make the situation ten times worse if I did. 

“Obviously not,” Rowan said, not bothering to hide the amusement in his tone. “Care to fill us in?” 

“You got pissed over me hugging a friend.” 

That’s what this is about. “Her arousal was over you.” I snarked back at her. 

Rowan looked at me, why haven’t I heard about this? 

Slipped my mind. Thankfully, he left it alone for now. 

“It’s not my fault I’m pretty.” 

Rowan stiffened next to me, but Y/n shoved her plate away, stalking out of the room. 

She stayed in her old chambers that night - from when she first came to live with us, and no amount of coaxing from Rowan could bring her back over to ours. 

-

I didn’t sleep well that night, by myself. I’d grown so used to having both of them with me, the three of us tangled up together. Past midnight, I regretted my decision but I wouldn’t go sneaking in there. Part of me knew I was being a bit ridiculous holding on to the grudge. I probably would’ve been pissed smelling someone else's arousal on my mates. 

But, it stung. Part of me couldn’t help wondering if they’d reject me because of it. Maybe they’d think I was somehow ruined? Stupid, I chastised myself. The thought bloomed out of nowhere, rooted in my own insecurities, but it was enough to make me avoid them. 

-

My patience was running out. I wanted to touch her mate, to feel her, to scent her arousal. But - Y/N didn’t start anything, didn’t initiate anything, and I couldn’t figure out why. For Gods sake I even swallowed my pride and apologized to her. So, like a rational person, I brought it up in the middle of dinner, and bluntly. Never one to sugar coat my words. 

“Why are you avoiding intimacy?” 

Rowan’s look said ‘rutting Gods, Aelin.’ 

“I’m scared you’ll reject me. Or laugh at me somehow.” 

That. That was not what I expected. At all. 

“Y/N.” I said her name softly, dinner forgotten as I rounded the table, pulling her chair out so I could kneel in front of her. On my knees - for her. I grasped both of her lands in mine. 

“Petal. I’d never reject you. Or laugh at you. You know exactly what you do to me.” I met her eyes, and trailed a hand up her thigh, up her side. She shivered as much touch ghosted over the side of her neck, all to grip her chin. Rowan had moved, and he was standing behind her now, a steady presence. If she noticed him, she didn’t turn or look away from me, her attention focused wholly on me. Gods, I loved that, being the center of her attention.  

One hand stayed on her chin. Gripping that soft skin, the other covered her chest, right where her heart was. I felt the heat of her skin through her top, and scented her arousal too, starting to creep up through her. I kept the smirk off my face, barely. 

“This is mine.” My voice was low and possessive enough I almost didn’t recognize it. I rose from my knees, standing in front of her. My hand guided her chin, tilting so she’d see me - look in my eyes. Her hands gripped my hips, and she stood with me. “You belong,” I emphasized, “to me.” 

She bit on her bottom lip, and my thumb tugged it free with a rough movement. Harsh. “I would never reject you.” I yanked her up, one hand wrapping around her waist to pull her flush to me. The chair flung out of the way, and she tried to turn but I held her in place. Rowan’s hands trailed over her shoulders and down her side. 

“You belong to us.” He told her, leaning down so his lips ghosted her ear. Eyes meeting mine. 

Our mate. 

Our mate. I repeated to him. 

She shivered, her body reacting to the pure possession in our touch. “Or have you forgotten that?” I teased. 

“You haven’t exactly shown me.” She teased back, even as a bit of fear crept into her. I could scent it too, and for some reason I loved it. “You haven’t either,” she turned her head to face Rowan. He snarled, flashing his canines when she turned back around. 

“You have no idea what you’ve just done.” I said softly, tracing the line of her jaw. 

“I just told the truth.” 

Oh, there’s still a fire in her. 

Our scents are weaker on her. I spoke to Rowan. 

We need to fix that. 

Do exactly what I say. He rolled his eyes, but he gave a short nod. 

-

I traced my hand down the lines and curves of her body, relishing in every soft bit of skin. I kissed my way down, through the valley of her breasts, stopping to leave a mark right in the middle. I loved the way she screamed as I bit into her, and sobbed. She was begging before I’d even touched her pussy, before my hands touched her breasts. 

“Aelin. Gods, Aelin. Please.” Eventually I gave in, licking one long strip up her core, before biting down on her clit, tugging it. Her back bowed, arching as she sobbed. “It hurts.” She whined. Her eyes fixed on Rowan, like he might convince me to let her finish. 

“Don’t look at me.” He said, “I’m enjoying this.” She fixed her gaze on me again, pleading. 

“I don’t care if it hurts.” I whispered, my warm breath fanning her as she shivered. She got even wetter. “My little painslut.” I whispered, rising back up to meet her lips. My knee pressed into her core, and she whimpered into my mouth, her nails scratching down my back. 

“You’re mine.” She moaned, pulling me as close as she could. 

I pulled back just enough to meet her eyes. “I’m yours my love.” And I kissed her, again and again until her lips were bloody and bruised. Her hands squeezed, pinching my nipples, before scratching down my back to squeeze my backside. She craved me as much as I craved her. Our bodies wanted to be together, belonged together. The mating bond thrummed with joy, feeling fulfilled again for the first time in over a week. 

One of my hands pushed at the back of her thigh, pinning her leg up near her chest, before I made my way back down. 

One finger entered, tantalizingly slow, and rubbing circles inside of her, right inside on the spot. My lips wrapped around her clit, sucking hard. She screamed - loud. I hope Rowan has a shield up. I alternated between sucking and grazing my canines over her until she came undone beneath me. 

After that, I didn’t stop. I kept going until she gave me another.

-

It was almost too much, so overstimulated, so much pain mixed with pleasure but I didn’t want it to stop, didn’t want her to leave. I kept wiggling. Her eyes narrowed, before she lifted slightly. 

“Rowan.” She called, “Hold her.” He listened, climbing up on the bed and kneeling behind me, his hard arms caging my body, tugging me tightly into my chest. 

“It’s too much.” I whimpered, my chest heaving. 

“Then safeword.” Aelin demanded. I didn’t, and kept my mouth shut. 

“You’ll take everything she gives you.” Rowan breathed into my ear. “And thank her.” I shivered, his words making the hair on my arms raise. “Do you understand?” 

“Yes. I understand.” My voice shook as I replied.

“Good girl.” 

I yelped as Aelin’s fingers pinched my clit. The already bruised and overstimulated spot. 

“What do you say?” She teased. 

“Thank you.” I said through heavy breaths. 

“My little pain slut, that’s what you are, aren’t you?” She crooned. 

“Yes. Gods, yes.” I sobbed, as she flicked again, before her fingers pinched it. Tears started streaming down my face. 

“So pretty when you cry.” She purred, leaning in. Her tongue lapped one of the tears, before she met my lips again. Rowan’s arms stayed firm around me - I couldn’t move if I wanted to, I couldn’t feel her or touch her, but I pushed against him as much as I could, trying to get closer. His hold is unbreakable, I don’t know why I expected anything else. 

 “Your turn.” She grinned, and met Rowan’s eyes, over my shoulder, hers glazing slightly. Speaking, they’re using their bond. They moved so quickly I was caught in between them, caught off guard as my body was maneuvered. Aelin leaned up against the pillows, and I was between her legs. Her hand fisted my hair, and pushed me down into her. I hooked both of my arms under her thighs, holding on and started absolutely feasting on her. It hadn’t taken me long to figure out exactly what she likes, and I absolutely loved pleasing her like this. I could do it for hours, and she knew that. She’d had me sit under her desk and do it for hours before. Makes work bearable. She’d told me. 

I startled and whimpered as rough hands gripped my hips, yanking them up. Aelin’s hand fisting my hair kept me firmly in place. 

Fingers slipped inside me, stretching. Preparing me. I kept licking her, lapping at her, even as Rowan pushed into me, inch by tantalizing inch. 

-     

And how would you like me to fuck her, milady? Rowan asked his wife, amusement on his face. She thought about it for a second, her hand keeping Y/N firmly in place, moaning at their mates' touch. He knew she’d keep her there for hours, if she was in the mood. Keep her all to herself. 

Slow. But hard. 

He could do that. He pushed himself all the way in, right to his hilt, and Y/N moaned against Aelin, drawing a moan out of her. He pulled out slowly, almost all the way, before slamming right back into her, she cried out and jolted, but kept her head right there. 

-

Gods it was almost torturous, Rowan moving so slowly, yet so harshly, against me. My already bruised and sore pussy. But - I felt Aelin coming undone under me, and I focused on that, redoubled my efforts, even as his cock threatened to distract me. She was close, so close, I could feel it. Then - Rowan’s hand snuck around my hip, right to the apex of my thighs, pushing harshly against it. I screamed into Aelin, and that sent her over the edge. 

Sneaky Bastard. He’d done that on purpose - knowing what the vibrations from my scream would do to her. I could practically feel how pleased he was with himself, as he pulled out of me, Aelin panting in front of me, her hand releasing my hair. 

“Do you trust us?” Aelin asked me, through heavy breaths. 

“Of course.” I said, immediately, almost offended. She glanced at Rowan, who left. “I feel a bit left out.” I grumbled, rising up to my knees. A grin formed on her face, and she gripped my chin, forcing my eyes to stay on hers. I heard Rowan coming back, and tried to turn. 

“Look at me.” She ordered, and I listened. Maybe I shouldn’t have because silky ropes tied my arms behind me. Rowan tossed another length of rope to Aelin, who caught it, and pulled me up towards the headboard, looping the rope in between my hands, and attaching it firmly. I sat on my knees, and watched with wide eyes. The knots were clever, and there was no escaping them - at least without magic. 

“I figured you might need a break.” Aelin crooned as her hands pushed on Rowan’s chest, pushing him down to lay on the bed. She lowered herself on him, and I watched as she rode him, my eyes wide and breathing heavy. I’d never done that … and no, Rowan would never let me. Watching, though. I liked that. 

He leaned up, her arms steady on his shoulders, and his hands gripping her hips, helping guide her on him, lifting all the way up, before slamming right down. She fucked him - hard. Gods, it was mesmerizing. 

-

Rowan could tell Aelin was in her element, and loved every moment of this. Especially Y/N watching, tied up and helpless to do anything about it. He groaned, coming close to finishing, and felt Aelin start to pulse around him. She threw her head back in a moan, rode him through her orgasm, and until he spilled inside her. His gaze turned to their mate, watching with wide eyes, her cheeks flushed, wiggling to try and get some friction or release. 

“Don’t.” He warned her, and she froze, a sheepish smile forming on her face. He lifted Aelin off him, bringing her up to sit on his face. She whimpered on top of him as he licked one long stripe up her pussy. 

[thelov3lybookworm]

Caged In (part 6)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

Day 6: Romance

Summary:

•○●⛦●○•

A/n: and with this, we come to the end of this series 🥹 thank you to all who loved this so much. I'm grateful ❣️

@lucienweekofficial

•○🌑○•

It felt like Lucien put his whole soul into kissing Y/n.

Y/n wasn't complaining.

She kissed him right back with everything she had in her as she buried her fingers in his long silky hair. It was softer that she had imagined.

Lucien's hand encircled her waist as he began walking her backwards, not once faltering in the movements of his mouth against hers.

Only when Y/n felt the edge of her bed pressing into her calves did she pull back, her chest heaving. Lucien tried to follow her, nipping at her lips, but then seemed to decide that breathing was also a necessity.

The both of them stared at each other as they tried to catch their breath.

"Why were you so scared about me being with Azriel?"

"Because... because I was afraid that he'd take away the one person I love. It's not like it hasn't happened before, even if he had no intention of doing it. My mate, the person who was destined to be with me, is in love with him. You can't fault me for being scared that he'd steal you away too. And I wouldn't let that happen. Because I love you."

"What?" She questioned. Lucien gave her a puzzling look.

"What... what?"

A giggle burst free from Y/n's mouth. "What did you just say?"

"I– I love you." Then his face fell, and he took a step away. "I'm sorry. I didn't ask you if you felt the same way–"

Y/n stared at him for a moment before she threw herself at him, laughing wildly.

"Oh mother. Lucien, I feel like I've been waiting my whole life to hear those words from you! I love you too, you dumbass."

"Then thank the cauldron." He muttered, the corners of his lips lifting before he slammed them against Y/n's again.

It would be safe to say that no one had any nightmares for the rest of the night.

Because none of them got any sleep.

•○🌑○•

Lucien's pov.

Lucien was buzzing with nerves, trying not to fiddle with the white robe he wore as he stood in front of his father, waiting for his judgement. They were in a private family wing, a sprawling stairway behind Lucien leading up to the chambers. Where Y/n currently was.

It was the day of the coronation, six months after he had found out about his parentage.

In those six months, Lucien and his father had bonded, so much so that it was easy to forget they had only found out about being related a few months ago.

In those six months, Beron had been assassinated, all disputes settled, peace once again a thing between the human and faerie lands.

Beron's death meant that Lucien's mother and father could meet again after centuries of longing, and Lucien was glad that the both of them were happy.

But that also meant that his father wanted to spend maximum amount of time with his love, and he was stepping down from the throne.

When Lucien had questioned the decision, Helion had replied that he was getting old and cranky, and he wanted to spend all the time he had with Lucien's mother. So they would be living in a private home in the mountains away from the bustle of the city.

The act of passing the crown to a heir was a hard and painful one unless the current high lord died, but Helion was ready to take it all.

So today, during the coronation, Helion would be performing a complex ritual that would leave him nearly powerless, transferring all the power to Lucien, the new high lord.

Helion gave Lucien a smile, pride taking over his features before he pulled Lucien in for a bone crushing hug.

"I'm so proud of you, my son."

Lucien's throat clogged with emotions as he clutched his father. Never in his life had anyone, except his mother and Y/n, said that they were proud of him. Maybe Jurian.

"Thank you."

Helion took a step back, his hands on Lucien's shoulders. "You'll be an amazing high lord."

Lucien nodded, not knowing how to reply.

He was spared the struggle when the door behind his father opened and in stepped the inner circle.

Rhys gave Helion a hug as Feyre came up to Lucien, grinning.

"High Lord, eh? I'm so happy for you." Feyre tried hugging Lucien, but Nyx had other plans. He made grabby hands at Lucien, who laughed and took him in his arms.

Everyone began congratulating Lucien and his father, even Nesta smiled at him. Cassian and Azriel gave him small smiles.

Looking at Cassian, Lucien wondered if he should fear for his life.

"Congratulations." A soft, feminine voice litled from nearby, and Lucien looked away from Nyx to find Elain standing there in a soft pink gown. Lucien hadn't even realised she was here.

Lucien nodded his thanks, going back to babbling at Nyx. "Would you like to ride a pegasus Nyx? I have my own. We can take a ride later on." Nyx squealed in happiness, although he probably didn't understand what Lucien had said.

A small, dainty hand landed on Lucien's bicep, and he looked to find Elain smiling at him.

"Can I have a word?" She nodded her head towards one of the wide windows, and Lucien looked around in confusion before he handed Nyx to Feyre, following Elain, away from everyone. Feyre gave him a mischievous smile and Rhys winked at him.

"How are you doing?"

Lucien furrowed his brows. "I'm doing good. What did you want to talk about?"

Lucien wanted to get straight to the point. He didn't have time for small talk. Y/n would be walking down those stairs any moment now, and he wanted to be the first one to see her.

"Oh. Okay. I... I know I haven't been paying you any attention, like a mate should. But I think I'm ready to pursue a relationship with you. I want to get to know you better."

Lucien blinked at her before he remembered that neither she nor the inner circle knew about his relationship with Y/n.

"I– I'm sorry Elain, but I can't accept to be in the mating bond. It's too late now."

"What do you mean?" Hurt flashed across her face, and it came in waves at Lucien from her side of the bond.

"I've found my high lady already."

"Do you think I want this bond only because I want to be a high lady?" She asked angrily, and Lucien realised how his words could have come across.

"I didn't mean it that way, and I apologise if I gave you the wrong idea. I meant that I have already found someone and I love her very much."

Tears gathered in Elain's eyes. "Why?"

"I'm sorry. I really am. But there will come nothing out of a realtion between you and I."

She nodded, blinking away the tears before turning away. "Congratulations again."

Before he could think of apologising again, he heard the sound of skirts swishing on the floor, and everyone turned to look towards the top of the stairs.

There was a collective sharp drawing of breaths.

There, in a gown of the brightest white with a golden tiara on her head, stood Y/n, beaming down at him. He realised his mother had already arrived before Y/n, standing next to Helion.

Lucien couldn't look away from her. She looked so beautiful. She was practically glowing as she descended the stairs. Her eyes snagged on someone behind Lucien for a moment before returning to him.

Cassian.

Lucien walked up to her, grinning softly, unable to look away as she reached the bottom stair.

"Hello, my Lord." She curtsied slightly.

"Lady Y/n, its a pleasure." He gently grasped her hand and raised it to his lips, maintaining eye contact. She blushed.

"Y/n." Cassian breathed.

Y/n's pretty eyes flew to her brother and she swallowed.

"Cass."

"What is this?" Rhys questioned.

Y/n's eyes went glassy, and Lucien realised that they were conversing through his daemati powers.

Cassian walked up to Y/n and simply pulled her into a hug. "I'm sorry. I missed you so much."

"Cass, I'm sorry–"

"Hush. Its alright. We'll talk later." Then Cassian turned to Lucien. "We will talk." He glared, but in a way brothers would glare at their sister's partner.

Lucien smiled. "Sure."

Y/n grinned at Lucien. "You're in for an interrogation."

Lucien grinned back.

•○🌑○•

Y/n's pov.

Y/n clutched Lucien's hand tightly, trying not to go into fight or flight mode. She'd trained for this with Lucien and his mother. She should be able to do this.

But she wasn't ready.

And her biggest fear was tripping over her gown and falling face first in front of all the guests. That would be the recipe to a disaster. A really embarrassing start of her rulership.

Jurian would also make fun of her, as he would obviously be on the other side of that door. He and Vassa were said to have arrived recently, not being able to leave sooner due to the queen and king duties.

Those fears, combined with the rain did little to ease her nerves.

It was said that if it rained on someone's coronation day, it was a good sign.

Y/n's brain wasn't ready to understand that.

"Calm down love. It'll be all right." Lucien murmured in her ear. It was just the two of them in the hallway outside the Great Hall, where the coronation would take place. They would walk in soon, then enjoy the festivities for some time before the coronation took place.

"I'm calm." She mumbled.

She could practically feel his smirk. "Your grip on my hand says otherwise."

She immediatley let go. "Sorry."

He took her hand again. "It's alright." He studied her for a moment, then turned towards a nearby staircase. "Come. There is still time."

Y/n instantly became alarmed. "Where are we going?"

"You'll see."

He led her up the staircase and into a nearby balcony. It had beautifully potted plants and vines hanging all around, the rain giving it all a dreamy look.

"Why are we here?"

Lucien smirked at her. Before she could react, he pulled her onto the balcony, directly where the water was falling the most. Y/n squealed and tried to get back to the dry area, but Lucien's grip didn't falter.

"Come on my lady. This will be fun."

Lucien himself was already dripping with water, and he gave her a wild grin before pulling her in for a kiss. She let him, because who could say no to him? There was certainly something wrong with people who could deny Lucien of anything.

He deepened the kiss before moving onto her jaw and neck, peppering kisses on every bit of skin he could kiss. Y/n closed her eyes, feeling Lucien's lips and the drops splattering on her face.

"Lucien..." She said, breathless.

He relented, resting his forehead against hers.

Sometime later, without even realising it, the two of them had begun swaying to sound no one could hear, their movements perfectly synchronised.

As they danced in the rain, she realised she was no longer nervous. She had relaxed, the tensions bleeding from her shoulders.

"I love you." She sighed.

"I love you too." Lucien kissed her forehead.

•○🌑○•

Talons scraped against Y/n's mind, and she opened a window to Rhys, irritated at being interrupted.

What? She spat.

The coronation is about to start in a few moments. You need to make haste. He sounded so amused, Y/n wondered if she could punch him through his mind.

She looked up at Lucien, knowing he had also recieved the same message.

Lucien led her back to the stairs, drying his and her clothes with his magic.

"Ready?"

Y/n nodded. "Thank you."

"My pleasure." He winked at her.

She grinned and shook her head.

She wanted to grab him and drag him to an alcove and never stop kissing his stupidly handsome face, but she couldn't do that.

A coronation awaited.

But more than that, Jurian and Vassa would never let her live that down.

•○🌑○•

General Taglist: @bubybubsters @eos-princess @nightless @lizziesfirstwife

[master-john-uk]

I was pleased to see that my friend Seamus attended the Saint Patrick's Day Parade at Aldershot Barracks this morning.

Seamus, officially named Turlough Mór joined the Irish Guards at the age of six months in December 2020. (He was described as being the size of a small horse then.)

He struggled with army life to begin with. When he was walked down the middle of a road, he could not understand why he was not allowed to run and say hello to the watching crowds. He was also a little alarmed by the group of soldiers that followed him around, playing noisy drums and other musical instruments. But, Seamus enjoyed a relaxing evening in the bar... as most Irish Guards do!

At the beginning of 2022 there were concerns that Seamus might not be ready to take part in the Platinum Jubilee celebrations. I had a quiet word in his hairy ear, after which he improved in leaps and bounds... or, perhaps I should say with fewer leaps and bounds!

Seamus did take part in Trooping The Colour in June 2022, and marched almost perfectly in the parade... although he was a little restless as the troops stood to attention at Horse Guards. He also took part in ceremonial events for The Coronation last year.

Well done you, Seamus. You have grown up to be a very good boy!

[kristinamae093]

Ghosted

Ghosted - Altering Visions (Chapter Eleven)

Series Summary - Prince Liam fell for Riley Brooks hard and fast. A marriage filled with love and devotion was within his reach. But everything changed when she vanished just before the end of the social season. As everyone voices their concerns regarding her scandalous departure, a confession from an unlikely source turns Liam's world upside down and makes him question everything around him.

Book/Pairing - TRR - Liam x f!MC (Riley Brooks)

A/N 1 - This AU starts right before the beginning of the engagement tour. There is a two-month lapse between the coronation and where we pick up, but we will stray from canon. Please excuse any errors found.

A/N 2 - It's been a while 🥲. Here's hoping it doesn't take me another six months to post the next chapter 😬🫡.

PSA it's a long one. Whoops, lol.

Characters belong to Pixelberry.

Liam fluttered his eyes open a short time later and squinted them against the harsh, blinding light blocking his view. When he took a deep breath, a distinct, stale aroma invaded his senses; it sparked some kind of recognition even before he could fully view his surroundings. He slowly sat up with a groan and blinked until his vision centered. He glanced around and noticed the outdated wood panels, along with the oval shape of the sconces. There was only one estate in all of Cordonia with those outdated features, and he noted that fact immediately. 

Panic flourished through his body as Liam realized he awoke in Applewood. 

He frantically stood with labored breaths and patted his abdomen, almost to ensure he was real. He pinched his thigh and winced, afterward placing a trembling hand on the wall to steady himself. His mind raced as he tried to comprehend what transpired and how he’d gotten there to begin with.

The events of the night suddenly invaded his thoughts. The image of a lifeless Penelope in Landon’s arms engraved and forever etched itself into his memory; he felt guilty, enraged, defeated, and a slew of other emotions.

Penelope was the big break they’d hunted high and low for. She held vital information Liam desperately needed, but seemingly would take her secrets to the grave with her. He couldn’t understand any of it — nothing made sense. The list of unanswered questions swirling around was enough to make him nauseous. A carousel of sorrow and confusion he couldn’t seem to slow down — no matter how hard he tried. 

Amid his tilt-a-whirl moment, an angelic voice rang out not far away, drawing him back to the present. “Who are you? What are you doing here?” 

Liam’s thundering heart suddenly stopped as recognition swept over him. He’d been so entrapped in his thoughts, he hadn't even noticed what portion of the estate he was in. 

Only a few inches away was a door he remembered all too well — Riley’s. His eyes welled with tears as his vision centered on the structure, but as much as Liam wanted to rush to her, he physically couldn’t. The receptors in his brain went crazy — a jolt of electricity shot to his legs, demanding he move, but his feet weighed hundreds of pounds. Dazed and confused, he could only gawk at the blockade separating them. 

“Lady Riley, we have much to discuss — have a seat,” another individual answered. Liam knew it was a male but couldn’t place his identity; although it sounded familiar, as if he could remember it from a vague, distant memory. 

“Tell me who you are and what the hell you’re doing here!” Liam’s blood ran cold at Riley’s tone; the fear and adrenaline were prominent in her shaky voice. His breaths quickened and his instincts screamed to rush to her, but again, his feet refused to cooperate. 

“That wasn’t a request — I told you to have a seat.” Again, Liam swore he could recall that voice, but couldn’t fully register it. He thought about it for a split second until the sounds of a loud screech and a shatter echoed behind the door. 

“Don’t touch me!” Riley hollered, instantly breaking Liam’s trance. He lunged for the doorknob, but when he twisted his wrist, it snapped and turned to dust in his palm. The disintegrated fragments floated to the floor in slow motion, his heart following suit. 

“You’re so beautiful when you squirm.” Liam gasped as he fully recognized that person — it was Tariq. “But if you don’t fucking stand still–”

“Riley! RILEY!” Liam forcefully pounded on the structure. “Open this door! Open it, goddamnit!” He bellowed, but the commotion inside continued, escalating by the second. The next instant, he sprinted down the hall, frantically hunting for somebody — anybody — to get him inside that room. “I need some help!” He hauled over to the other side and yelled once more, but faced only cold, deserted silence. 

His vision darted all around the area before he spotted a window at the end of the seemingly never-ending hallway. Liam sprinted to it and gazed at the scene below. Outside, he could see the country jamboree still in full swing. He scoured the crowd and spotted everyone except Riley; Drake, Hana, Madeleine, and upon further inspection, he saw himself at the head table beside his father. He stumbled backward with a strangled breath, truly dumbfounded by what was going on. 

As Liam recovered, he re-approached the window and banged on it. “Hey! Hey!” He wailed, but nobody below batted an eye. His hits came harder and harder, but the glass never even cracked; his hand took the damage, although he felt no pain. 

The only thing he heard was Riley’s pleas for help, the sounds making his desperation grow by the second. He rushed back to the door and ran full force at it, using his shoulder as a battering ram; it wouldn’t budge. He repeated the process — again and again — but never even split the wood. Liam let out a primal wail and fisted his hair, taking deep breaths to preserve any semblance of sanity. His pulse thundered in his ears and tears stung the corners of his eyes, while he frantically determined what to do.   

He took a step back and realized there was a shadow cast over the doorway. It appeared to be a man, standing with his arms crossed. He wasn’t sure if it was there before, but Liam waved his hand and nothing changed the stony silhouette. The fixture remained cemented in place, not flinching or moving a muscle, regardless of the commotion developing beyond.

“LIAM!” Riley suddenly screamed, ripping him from his trance. He was up against the structure in an instant, using every ounce of strength he had to force his way through, but his attempts were futile. Riley repeatedly called for him and every time, a dagger went straight through Liam’s already hollowed-out chest.

He couldn’t control his overflowing tears at hearing her cry out for him. No matter what he did, he couldn’t get inside; they wouldn’t acknowledge him, nobody came to help, and there was nothing he could do except sit and listen. With a loud sob, he slid down the door and sat in front of it, hoping at some point it would open and he could get to her. 

Riley’s whimpers continued throughout the vicinity, but Liam’s skin turned ice cold as he heard laughter inside; not Riley’s, and certainly not cheerful. The vile sound caused all the color to drain from his face. He leaned his head against the door and completely broke down, letting the devastation and defeat wash over him. 

“I — I’m sorry Riley…” He swallowed thickly, but soon let out an anguished cry. “I’m so sorry…”

The room went eerily quiet for a long while; Liam couldn’t hear much except the sound of his heart shattering, but eventually, the voices began once more. With a shuddered breath, he held his ear up to listen. 

“When will I receive payment?” Tariq questioned. 

“You don’t need to worry about that. Where you’re going, you won’t need it.” 

“W–what do you mean?! I did what I was called to do!” Tariq’s panic was clear to Liam, even without seeing his face. His pulse somehow thundered faster, carefully processing every word.

“There is too much at stake — more than your simple mind could ever understand. For this to work, you need to disappear. You’re a weak, pathetic excuse of a man — we can not risk this entire operation being ousted because of a lousy nuisance.” 

“I swear to it — you have my allegiance and my silence.” Tariq pleaded. “I will disappear, and—” 

“You’re going to, alright — the both of you.” 

What little color remaining in Liam’s complexion drained, and the shakiness in his hands amplified. After a split-second of complete and utter stillness, the phrase resonated and ignited a deadly determination within.

Liam sprung up and kicked the door with all his might. “LET ME IN!” He repeated the process, but again, the barrier showed no signs of weakening. He threw his fists at the structure in a mad frenzy — anything to get inside and get to Riley, then deal with this — man. 

“Liam! Liam! LIAM!” Leo yelled. He repetitively jabbed the button next to Liam's head to summon the nurse, as his brother flailed in his hospital bed. 

Liam was being monitored for dehydration, severe exhaustion, and a touch of malnutrition. Doctors said he had a panic attack, which combined with everything else, made him lose consciousness. All his labs came back normal, thankfully; Leo was worried someone could have slipped Liam something, but the hospital was quick to put that suspicion to rest. 

Since Liam arrived, he had been resting comfortably, but that changed about twenty minutes ago; it started with small groans and subtle movements, but soon turned into blood-curdling cries and forceful thrashes. Leo hoped he would wake himself, but Liam was getting drastically worse with every passing second. 

Liam suddenly flew forward with a loud gasp. His tearful eyes darted all around the room while he grabbed at his gown-covered body. As the world centered, a tidal wave of frustration and confusion washed over him. 

When Liam stopped and stared down at his clasped hands, Leo cautiously re-approached the bed. “Liam?” When he didn’t answer, Leo spoke a little louder. “... Li?”

“I was there.” Liam weakly croaked, his vision locked on his lap.

Leo’s brows furrowed. “Where?” 

“I heard it.”

“Heard what?”

“Riley…” Liam whispered, followed by a shuddered breath.  

“What about her?” 

“I was there… th–that night… just n–now—” Liam stammered, struggling to make sense of the situation. “I couldn’t get in…”

Leo’s heart instantly shattered at seeing the devastation in Liam’s features. “They gave you some medication, Li.” He reasoned. “It’s possible that—”

“I KNOW WHAT I HEARD!” Liam bellowed. The nurse appeared next to him and attempted to speak, but he shouted, “GET OUT!” 

Leo lifted his hands in surrender. “I believe you, Liam… Tell me what happened.” 

“She yelled for me…” Liam faintly answered, refusing to make eye contact. “She yelled and screamed and — I couldn’t get inside, Leo... I tried, but — I — I… I couldn’t save her…” 

Leo took a deep breath to gather his thoughts and responded in a calm, reassuring voice. “Liam, it’s been a long couple of days and I know this has been incredibly rough on you–” 

“STOP PATRONIZING ME! I KNOW WHAT I HEARD!” 

Leo remained reluctant to entertain this idea. He knew Liam was dreaming, but at that moment, he was completely irrational. Leo had never seen him in such a way, even when his mother died. Given the past couple of weeks, the events of that night, and the medication, there was no rationalizing with him — Liam was spiraling, and bad. But perhaps if he entertained the notion — for now — Liam would eventually calm down.  

Leo carefully spoke. “What did you hear?” 

Liam stayed silent for a long moment before he turned his head to meet eyes with Leo. The look on Liam’s face slightly took him aback; the determination in his features was deadly — his sunken, puffy eyes were nearly black. 

Liam let out a long, sharp huff of air and sternly explained, “There were two male voices. I can say with confidence one was Tariq, but as far as the other, I — I don’t know…” He shook his head with furrowed brows as he racked every recollection in his brain. He could almost visualize the man in question, but his face appeared blurred and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t clear the fog. 

“Alright, well, let’s just take a minute to—”

“They were fucking laughing, Leo. They assaulted her and laughed about it.” Liam growled, his chest rising and falling with every sullen breath. “I want Tariq found, now. He’s going to pay for ever laying a fucking finger on her. I swear to God, Leo — I will put an end to his sorry existence with my bare hands.” He clenched his palms, squeezing hard enough to turn his knuckles white. 

Leo once again held his hands up in surrender and replied in a soft voice. “I believe you. Just — take a couple of deep breaths and try to relax—” 

“What if she didn’t leave Cordonia?” Liam suddenly blurted out. “What if she’s…” He trailed off, swallowing thickly. No part of him wanted to finish that statement in any fashion; the unending possibilities gave him instant nausea. “That man… he said, ‘where you’re going you won’t need it’, and then h–he said both of you... BOTH OF YOU, Leo!” He ran his palms over his head from front to back, repeating the process with a crazed look in his eye. 

Leo opened his mouth to speak, but Liam swiftly continued. “It would make sense… Tariq has been untraceable… But–but Riley…. She — Bastien told me she went back to New York. But that person… I know I heard him say it… Where you’re going you won’t need it, where you’re going you won’t need it—” He repeated to himself, his voice diminishing with every anguished syllable. He clutched his hands into fists and forcefully yanked at his hair, rocking himself back and forth. 

“Li,” Leo cautiously started. When Liam whipped his head to look at him, Leo was once more temporarily shocked by the fury and turmoil staring back at him; he realized Liam was hastily elevating himself to a dangerous level. “We can’t jump to conclusions… Okay? Let’s just take a deep breath and try to calm down—” 

“Don’t tell me to calm down, Leo! I KNOW WHAT I HEARD!” Liam shouted as he ripped the IV from his arm, the pain not even phasing him. He ditched the rest of his connections shortly after and dashed out of bed. “Where are my CLOTHES?”

“I’m not saying you didn’t,” Leo reasoned as he followed his brother’s movements. “All I’m suggesting is that we take a step back and really think about this—” 

“I’m tired of taking a step back! Look where that’s gotten us!” Liam seethed. “There is so much goddamn blood on my hands! I let her get hurt! I am responsible for all of this madness—” 

“Stop that — right now,” Leo sternly returned. “You know that is not true even in the slightest.” 

“Say it to MY FACE then, Leo!” Liam barked as he invaded his brother’s personal space. “LIE to my fucking face!” 

“It’s not a lie, Liam,” Leo stood a little taller. “You are not responsible–” He stopped as Liam rolled his eyes and looked away. This time, it was Leo who stepped up to Liam. “No — look at me,” He bore his eyes into his brother, forcing him to see the truth in his gaze. “You are not responsible for any of this, Liam. We’re going to figure this out, I promise.” 

Liam studied the conviction staring back at him and his frustration soared. He spun away and grabbed the bedside table, sending it flying with a primal roar. 

Leo flinched as the wood shattered against the wall, but knew he had to calm Liam down. However, the person he was trying to reason with was not the version of Liam he was used to; this was a side Leo didn’t know lay dormant in his normally calm and stoic baby brother.

“Liam,” Leo softly started. “This is an incredibly shitty situation, and I’m so sorry that you’re being put through this. I love you, and I’m always here for you no matter what.” He confidently stated, but after a moment of silence, hesitantly added, “But I just don’t think a dream is—” 

“I don’t give a damn what you say, Leo! Someone is going to pay for this!” Liam growled, his face reddening with every deep, labored breath. He directed his attention back to his earlier quest for his clothes; he didn’t know where he was going or who he was looking for, but someone was going to feel the wrath of the King of Cordonia — tonight.  

Olivia didn’t even bother to knock before she and Ray joined the room. The pair opted to stay behind and investigate in Portavira a little further — that is until a random guard threw them out. Without Liam or Leo there to ensure their access, they were told to vacate the premises shortly after Liam left for the hospital. Regardless, they had enough time to prove at least one pivotal thing about that ordeal, and possibly solve quite a few others — if Liam believed them. 

They walked in and stopped short at Liam’s crazed expression. “What’s going on?” Olivia sought. 

“I’m leaving,” Liam bit out through clenched teeth. 

“Hold on, we need to talk about something—” 

“Move out of my way!” 

Olivia arched her brow. “We need transparency, Liam. Tell me what is going on — calmly.” 

“I was there, Olivia! I heard it! They fucking attacked her!” Liam bellowed as he found his garments and rifled through the bag. 

Olivia placed a gentle hand on his shoulder to stop his mad dash. “Liam, please — I need a full explanation. I’m not stopping you or downplaying anything, but we need to know what the hell you’re talking about.” 

Liam met her eyesight and saw the genuine interest in her gaze. He could tell Leo thought he was baffling, but he wasn’t. He couldn’t fathom the experience, but knew that was no dream; with every fiber of his being, Liam believed what he heard was reality. The universe mercilessly gifted him a blocked front-row seat — it was a curse, yet oddly a blessing. They spent all this time wondering what happened that night, but now he had a soundtrack to re-play. He wasn’t willing to rest until he deciphered this code, to ensure justice would be swift to all who deserved it. 

He explained in great detail his occurrence and exactly what happened. When he finished, he stared blankly at the floor, cradling his head in his trembling hands; he knew how wild it sounded but didn’t particularly care. It felt so real — so raw. Just thinking about the vile chortles raised goosebumps on his arms, and Riley’s screams now played on an insistent loop in his mind — torment that would never stop. Even if good trumped evil and Riley was located safely in the end, those sounds would be a continuous source of torture until he took his final breath. 

Olivia listened intently to everything he recalled. At the surface, she knew how preposterous it sounded — it was a dream, regardless of how strongly Liam felt otherwise. Her heart ached for her friend at that moment; clearly, everything that happened was taking a major toll on her childhood friend. 

But — given the bombshell she and Ray sat upon, Olivia couldn’t help but wonder if there could be some truth to Liam’s encounter. 

Olivia sat forward and patted Liam’s leg with the gentlest of touches. When she spoke, it was calm and reassuring. “I’m not sure what to say, Liam. I realize you want to believe it to be true, but you and I both know it’s nothing concrete…” Liam opened his mouth to respond, but Olivia held her hand up to stop him, as she saw the fire burning behind his narrowed eyes. “Let me finish… I know tonight has been hard on you for a lot of reasons, but I believe Ray and I have found a very promising lead…”

Liam’s ears visibly rose as his interest grew. “What do you mean?” 

“Sir, I know it’s not what you initially hired me for, but there are a lot of things that do not add up in this current situation...” Ray started. “Between some of Lady Penelope’s behaviors, her father’s statements, and this—” He produced his phone from his pocket and handed it to Liam. “I find it very hard to believe she took her own life.” 

Liam glanced at the device in his hands and realized he was looking at a photo of Penelope’s last statements. He read through it and found nothing of relevance; no mention of Riley, her involvement in the scandal, the maid, nothing. It was incredibly vague, considering it was her concluding words to the world. 

“Why are you showing me this?” Liam demanded as confusion and annoyance rushed through him. 

Olivia produced a document from her pocket. After questioning the legitimacy of the note left in Riley’s room, she wanted to have it near in case the situation arose. “You remember my blackmail letter — the one I got the night of your coronation?” She handed him the paper.

Liam held both items and scanned back and forth; he gasped when he realized they were nearly identical. “But, this — this means—” 

“Someone took her out, Liam.” Olivia finished. 

“I’m not positive if someone would have done it for her, or if she felt pressured into doing it. Either way, since she was saying goodbyes to her family, that leads me to believe Penelope knew she was in danger and foresaw her demise.” Ray added. 

“This is impossible!” Liam shook his head, his rage returning full force. “How does this keep happening?!” 

Olivia and Ray shared a look; the two calculated a theory, and it seemed the more that unfolded, the greater that assumption solidified itself. There wasn’t a lot of evidence to point fingers, but Olivia realized they couldn’t wait any longer; if they were correct, this situation just escalated tenfold. Liam already teetered an incredibly dangerous ledge, but perhaps that’s what the circumstances called for. Plus, after his — experience, she knew he would believe them. 

Olivia softly started. “I need you to stay as calm as possible — at least until I’m finished and we know for certain who we’re directing this hostility at.” Liam nodded with furrowed brows, but Leo shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “I don’t know what to say about your — encounter, but — there is reason for us to believe Riley could be in Cordonia.” 

“WHAT?!” Liam practically choked as all the color drained from his face. Even though he was there and truly believed what he heard, someone else saying it out loud momentarily knocked the wind out of him. 

“I checked all outgoing flights from the night of the jamboree and she wasn’t on any of them,” Ray explained. “Every log received a thorough examination, even those with different destinations — she has yet to board a plane to exit the country, to this day. I’ve looked at other modes of transportation and she is the same as Tariq — there is nothing.” 

“But…” Leo hesitantly started after a moment of tense silence. “If that’s the case, then where is she?” 

Olivia sighed and her eyes softened. “We’re — not entirely sure at this point… Somewhere in Cordonia, but…”

“Believe me when I say I am checking everywhere.” Ray confidently inserted. “Every crack, every crevice — any place I can think of. If she truly is in the country, I will locate her.” 

“Okay, but — why haven’t we found her?” Leo returned. The uneasiness in his stomach suddenly bolted to the back of his throat, securing itself and taking root. As he took in Ray’s uncertainty, the lump multiplied in size. 

“I — I don’t have an answer for that right now,” Ray calmly returned. “But I’m working around the clock and using every resource I have to uncover her location. I know those sound like empty promises, but I assure you — I will not rest until Lady Riley is located safely.” He emphasized.

Liam’s heart pounded so fast, he was sure it would give out at any moment. “I — She — B–but —” He stammered, trying his hardest to comprehend the conversation. “Bastien told me—”

“I think Bastien is involved.” Olivia abruptly cut him off. “When we found Riley’s stuff, I swear to you, Liam, I saw the fucking guilt in his eyes. Plus, he’s got his hands in everything at court. I’m not saying he’s as powerful as you, but he can twist and manipulate things like no other because of his position.” 

Olivia continued. “To be honest with you, I don’t think any of us really believe Penelope killed that maid. During the social season, I saw her cry over a fucking crab bite — you can’t tell me she murdered someone in cold blood. Also, I’m thinking, based on his actions tonight, Bastien knew Penelope was already dead — I’m nearly certain of it.”

“Not to mention, he kept this information to himself until we were ready to question her,” Ray added. “I know for certain those reports take only a few days — most likely less if it’s a priority case. I haven’t seen the photos from your first crime scene, but I can tell it was a setup from Olivia’s descriptions. As the head guard, it would’ve been easy for him to manipulate the situation.” 

“Are you sure, though?” Leo interjected. “I mean, I’ve dealt with Bastien a lot over the years, and I can say he is not a genius. Maybe the opposite — butter knives are sharper than he is.”

“He’s capable, though — that’s what troubles me. I think most of the time he gives off the impression he’s useless, but he’s highly trained in a sum of areas.” Olivia explained. “I sincerely doubt he’s the mastermind behind everything, but I’m confident he’s the reason we keep being set back. Who’s always around? Who’s the one directing these ‘investigations’? It’s him.“

“I — damn…” Leo ran a hand through his hair with wide eyes. “You’re not wrong, and it does kind of make sense…” 

Everyone suddenly recognized Liam remained mute as they spoke. His face showed no emotions; he only stared at Olivia as if she wasn’t even there with an unreadable expression. Liam was a world away as various open ends snapped themselves into place. The murky waters of uncertainty clarified, and the bottom of the cesspool became sharper with every jumbled thought dashing through his mind.

All security decisions went through Bastien, including unauthorized entry into an estate. Bastien was the one investigating the maid’s death, and he was accountable for the search for Riley and Tariq — until Ray came along. Bastien didn’t want to let Ray into Penelope’s room because he knew what was in there, and realized Ray would see right through it; past the stuff even Olivia would have missed. He could outsmart her, but knew he couldn’t Ray, which ultimately meant Bastien knew of Ray’s true purpose. He continuously told Liam he was working to provide answers, but suddenly, he believed Bastien’s intentions to be the exact opposite. 

This whole time, a mole sat right under his nose, continuously feeding them the vaguest of answers. Every time they took a step forward, it was never because of Bastien, but someone always ensured they took two back. He didn’t understand how whoever held the cards seemed to be a move ahead, but now — it made sense. 

Liam thought back to all these instances and realized he didn’t remember seeing Bastien. The night of the country jamboree, a different person escorted him to his room at the end of the night. He never questioned it because it wasn’t unheard of for guards to switch out positions, but now he wondered where Bastien truly was. 

The night of the Apple Banquet, he recalled seeing him at the start of it, but not again until Bastien barged in to inform him of the discovery. Now, he couldn’t help but speculate Bastien took the maid’s life himself, or at least staged the scene to frame Penelope. 

Tonight, before Bastien came to Liam and gave him the news of their suspect, he was nowhere to be found; until Olivia, Ray, and Leo left to interrogate Penelope. 

When Bastien told Liam their person of interest was Penelope, he was in a state of disbelief. Liam questioned him, but Bastien stood his ground. However, now he believed with everything in him, Bastien knew she was already dead and intended to manipulate the circumstances further.

Since he opened his eyes to the truth, he often felt as if he mindlessly ran in a circle, desperately trying to piece small portions of a scattered puzzle together. Now he realized he was — and Bastien directed the never-ending laps, all while dangling tiny slivers of hope in front of Liam’s face — taunting him.

Ultimately, Liam concluded without a shadow of uncertainty — Bastien knew what happened to Riley, and likely held knowledge regarding her location.

Liam suddenly shot up from the edge of his hospital bed. “BASTIEN!” He bellowed at an ear-piercing volume, loud enough to rattle the windows. 

Leo winced. “H–he’s not here, Li.”

“What the fuck do you mean, he’s not here?!” 

“There’s some other guy outside!” 

“He was still lingering around Penelope’s room when Ray and I left.” Olivia chimed in. 

“That’s it — I’m going to find him,” Liam growled through clenched jaws. 

“Liam, wait—” 

“NO MORE WAITING, OLIVIA! Do you see what is happening?! All the blood that’s being shed?! This has to stop!”

“I know and I agree. But we need some kind of strategy–”

“No — this ends now.” Liam bit out. He hastily made his way to the bathroom with his bag of clothes, slamming the door shut behind him. 

Olivia had half a mind to stop Liam until they had some kind of plan, but also felt time was of the essence. If they couldn’t prove Riley left the country, their urgency had to intensify. Her location remained unknown, but they believed she was at least in New York. When Ray first mentioned the possibility that she never left the country, Olivia didn’t want to believe it; after Penelope’s untimely demise, she realized this was a vicious, bloody pattern, and the suspicion needed to be taken seriously.

As the body count rose, Olivia’s concerns steadily increased. If history repeated itself, everyone involved would meet a deadly fate, but they didn’t have a detailed log of all entangled in this web. They had no clue where Riley’s name lay on the list of potential victims, and now they held very little information regarding her whereabouts. An involuntary shudder traveled down Olivia’s spine as the air in the room shifted, filling with an amplified haze of grim uncertainty felt heavily by everyone.

Olivia wholeheartedly believed Riley was alive, but for how much longer she couldn’t determine. The lingering feelings of uneasiness in her gut told her they were correct — she never left Cordonia — and if that was the case, her safety was more in question now than ever before.  

Within the hour, Liam left the hospital and was on his way back to the main estate in Portavira. Although doctors wished to keep him longer, he left AMA — he didn’t need fluids; he didn’t need rest; he needed Riley. If Bastien knew something, he was going to tell them, even if he had to use brute force.

A part of him didn’t want to believe it, but the more he pondered, the more sense it made. A small portion of his heart wanted to give Bastien the benefit of the doubt, but that was no longer an option. The betrayal Liam felt was like no other and quickly created a raging storm inside of him, simply waiting to be unleashed.

Hearing Riley could still be in Cordonia, combined with his out-of-body experience, the need to locate her was higher than ever. Of course, he wondered where she ended up when he believed she went back to the States, but now even that was up in the air. The one thing holding Liam above water was knowing she was far away from the carnage, but that was no longer a valid crutch. The waves of despair rose dangerously high, threatening to overtake and drag him under in one fell swoop. 

Liam tried his hardest to push the instantaneous bad thoughts away, but could feel it in his bones — Riley was in danger. From the beginning, he’d always thought something felt off, but he let his pride stand in the way of seeing the truth. Now it was impossible to ignore, as it tore away at his conscience. Guilty wasn’t even a suitable word to describe how he felt, knowing his negligence let this monstrosity escalate as it had. He turned his back on Riley when she needed him most; she screamed for him, yet he tried his damnedest to leave her in the past for so long. 

However, he used all his willpower to remain in the moment and stay afloat; the only thing he cared about was Riley. Even if they found her and she wanted nothing to do with him, he simply needed to see with his own two eyes that she was safe. He didn’t want to think about why she could still be in Cordonia, but the growing ache in his chest told him it wasn’t a good reason. 

The SUV pulled up to the front entrance of the estate, and Liam didn’t even wait for it to come to a complete stop. He rushed out and barged in through the front doors with fire under his feet. The halls remained eerily quiet as the nobility slept, but he was sure word traveled about not only his hospital stay but Penelope’s tragic passing. Leo, Olivia, and Ray all trailed behind as he ran at top speed. 

Liam dashed up the stairs and rounded the corner, but abruptly stopped once Penelope’s room came into view. The door had yellow caution tape covering the opening, and Liam heard Bastien’s voice inside; the sound reigniting the rage burning deep within. He went to make a bee-line for the door, but a timid hand on his forearm ceased his movements. 

“Y–Your Majesty,” Emmaline got out through hiccups. She retracted her hand with wide eyes and shakily bowed as he faced her. Liam’s features momentarily softened as he took in her running mascara and puffy eyes. “P–Please, Sir… I beg you to reconsider… Please — s–she wouldn’t d–do this…” 

Liam’s brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“We were told they’ve ruled Penelope’s d–death… They w–were picking everything up but n–nobody would listen to us! That wasn’t her handwriting. She–she wouldn’t do this… None of it… She was happy — she wouldn’t—” Emmaline shook her head as more tears fell. 

Liam placed a gentle hand on Emmaline’s shoulder and firmly responded, “I apologize for what you were told, but that is not the case — it will become a homicide investigation as soon as I can get someone else assigned. I promise you — I am going to figure out what happened and ensure she receives the justice she deserves.” 

Emmaline swallowed a sob. “W–where did they take her body? They wouldn’t tell us. T–they came in and ripped my baby out of my arms and I don’t know where she is and—”

“Wait, who took her?” 

“Your head guard said h–he had the authority to — remove her.” Emmaline squeezed her eyes closed as her tears fell harder, trying her hardest to wake herself from this nightmare.

Liam used every ounce of resolve he had not to march straight up to Bastien and securely wrap a hand around his throat. “Emmaline, I assure you — I will find her and bring her home. You have my word — I am going to figure this out.” He reiterated, but the fury coursing through his veins was at an all-time high. The amount Bastien thought he could get away with made Liam sick to his stomach, but he was determined to put a stop to it. 

His answers were suffusive for Emmaline, so she bowed and made her leave. After taking a microscopic moment to gain some clarity, Liam addressed Ray. “Since I am removing Bastien, I need you to take over. And I want you to backtrack and look into Rhonda’s homicide as well. I’m not sure if you’ll be able to find anything, but I want you to double-check. I’ll ensure you have access to everything you need, and I’ll inform everyone you are now in charge here. The crown will compensate you generously for your additional time and effort.” 

“Yes, sir,” Ray returned with a confident smile.

“Leo, I need you to figure out where he’s sending Penelope. I’m going to ask him, but in case he won’t tell me, I need her found before anyone messes with or blatantly destroys her body — there is no doubt in my mind that’s where she’s headed. Grab Maxwell and have him help you — I want her returned at once.” 

“You got it.” Leo nodded before he swiftly vacated the area. 

“I’m going to need some guards with me to do this,” Liam spoke, more so to himself than anyone else. 

“Guards?” Olivia repeated. 

“Yes. I won’t risk something happening to him — we will immediately detain Bastien. If he did nothing wrong, I’ll release and reinstate him, but until then, I am officially removing him from his position as head guard.” Liam answered, but regardless of what he said out loud, both of them knew Bastien was guilty; they just weren’t sure of the extent. 

Olivia smirked. “Welcome to the game, King Liam. Would you like for me to assist with questioning?” 

“I have a different job for you first. I need you to sneak into the security office and search through everything. If he’s working to cover up crimes or anything of that nature, he’s got to have something on him — I’m sure of it.” 

“Knowing that cockeyed baboon, I’d say that’s a safe assumption.” Olivia snickered. “But I don’t know if I like the idea of you interrogating him by yourself...” She cast him an unsure glance. 

“I don’t plan on it, Liv. I just need to find Drake.” 

Almost as if on cue, Drake emerged from Penelope’s doorway, carefully dodging the caution tape. He glanced around and as his eyesight landed on Liam, he furrowed his brows and approached. “What’re you doing here, Li? Are you alright?” 

“We have something to take care of.” Liam quickly and quietly laid out the current plan, as well as a vague description of their accusations. 

“Fuck, man… I gotta admit — I had no clue why Liv and that guy had to leave, but I got to stick around.” Drake shook his head, trying to comprehend this blindsiding revelation. 

“If I had to take a guess, I’d say he wanted someone Liam trusted around but needed to ensure the person was completely and utterly clueless,” Olivia inserted with a crooked grin.

Drake scoffed. “First of all, fuck you. Second, you might actually be right, but — you’re still a flaming bitch.” 

“Stop trying to flatter me, Walker,” Olivia retorted, afterward focusing on Liam. “Are we doing this?” 

Liam let out a deep huff of air. “Yeah, we are. Let’s do this.” He responded with the utmost resolution. He squared his shoulders, craned his neck from side to side, and strode into the room with Drake close behind. Olivia took off in the other direction to do her part in Liam’s plan, moving with brisk precision to reach her destination. 

As he entered, Liam got the attention of a few guards and motioned for them to follow. Bastien examined underneath Penelope’s bed, completely oblivious to the added presence in the room. He cleared his throat to gather Bastien’s attention, and Liam noticed his shoulders tense as he identified who stood before him. 

Bastien slowly rose with uncertainty painted on his features. “Your Majesty? What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be receiving treatment?” 

Liam chortled as he stalked toward Bastien. He kept a smile plastered in place and shook his head, muttering to himself. When he made it directly in front of him, Liam lowered his voice to a low, gravely rumble; the fake grin he wore instantly replaced by a menacing scowl. “... I bet you’d like that — wouldn’t you?”

Bastien visibly and audibly swallowed. “I don’t know what you’re insinuating, sir, but I—”

“Of course not.” Liam dismissively agreed. He took a couple of steps back and shrugged. “Regardless, you’re coming with us.”

Panic flashed in Bastien’s eyes; it was brief, but Liam caught it. “With all due respect, I’m not quite finished investigating Lady Penelope’s suic—”

“That is not what this is, and you damn well know it!” Liam abruptly shouted. A tense silence hung for only a moment until he cleared his throat and flatly added, “This is a homicide, and you are no longer a part of it.” He met eyes with one guard who got the silent order loud and clear, the other following suit. They rushed Bastien and captured his arms behind his back, securely holding him in place.

“What is the meaning of this?!” Bastien hollered as he attempted to evade their grip. 

“You’re being taken into custody.” 

“Whatever for?!” Bastien demanded. 

Drake stood in Bastien’s line of sight, mirroring Liam’s irate features. He held his gaze for a long, heated moment before snapping, “You’d better hope and pray we’re wrong, Bastien.”

“What the hell are you talking about, Drake?!” Bastien yelled, squirming against the grasp of those holding him.  

Neither answered the question but merely glared at him; the sheer betrayal and outrage they felt radiated off of them, eliciting a shiver to run down Bastien’s spine. He calmly reasoned, “Sir, I don’t know what this is about, but we can have a rational conversation without all of this nonsense.” He motioned to the guards holding him. 

“No, I don’t think we can, because you see —” Liam stalked toward Bastien, staring into his eyes so intently that he could almost see the wall behind him. As he made it into his comfort zone, Liam lowered his voice and rasped, “They’re only here to get rid of your body if I have to.” He smirked at Bastien’s wide eyes, as well as his complexion paling instantaneously. 

Liam held Bastien’s gaze but addressed the guards. “Take him down to the cells. I’ll be right behind you.”

As they dragged Bastien away, he hollered and stirred up a fuss. Liam ignored his pleas, instead trying to prepare himself for what lay ahead. He wanted clarity, but a part of him dreaded Bastien’s confession; it would be another stark reminder of what his negligence caused. The guilt tearing away at his insides was at an unfathomable level, but he had to push that aside to focus on the task at hand.

He tried to keep his composure, but the gloves were off; there was no more control. Bastien knew something and regardless of what he had to do, Liam was hell bent on making him talk. Innocent lives taken and families destroyed, along with Riley’s heinous attack — all of which rested heavily on his conscience. He was determined to serve a steaming hot platter of justice to all he deemed deserving, regardless of what it took.

The next step in making that happen was getting a pig to squeal. 

As he stood next to Drake, the facade of a composed monarch slipped onto the floor. He didn’t have enough strength left to keep it together. He embraced his emotions and vowed to follow their direction, but the only thing remaining was pure, unfiltered rage. 

Gone was the timid, people-pleasing prince with his mother’s baby-blue eyes. Instead, a carnal lion with dark, dilated pupils awakened, centered on the dangling piece of meat in his face — Bastien.