#the crow skinning the wolves

[holy-shit-comics]

[blackvahana]

On the whole "fetch" thing: It's a separate part of self. Let that self pilot the astral body when you're not in it, not about a separate body or self at all.

In the way that there's the divination complex and other things... Fetch complex, the trained autopilot that mimics a conscious mind and body, that's allowed to hold and use the astral body. So... Programming and tweaking. How should it feel, what parts of you should it present, how should it present them, etc

In this life, central theme of Self Love and Self Companionship, it acting as a constant alternate force and presence and so on makes sense. First, it being present allows a babysitting of the astral body, second, it allows you to carry out things without splitting up the conscious mind, third... uh. Dialogue is enabled then where it can alert you to Astral things without having to be consciously bilocating, acting instead as a spirit following and your astral self being in tune with the environment and present

[comatosebunny09]

preface [ deux ] | sylus

summary: in his haste to find you before the auction begins, sylus uncovers something much more harrowing. and he curses himself for agreeing to let you be bait in the first place.

warnings: violence, minor character deaths, human/sex trafficking, mentions of underaged girls, profanity, allusions to reader’s past as a kidnappee, reader is not mc, reader implied to be femme, sylus is mad murderous & an emotional wreck

tagging: @world-of-hearts, @athanasia-day, @falon-fen, @queen-serena88, @karespocketboyfriends, @mrswanel, @readerxyourfave, @sunsets-and-crows, @antonneva

notes: a continuation of this. thank you so much for reading! part 3 can be found here.

now playing: mozart - requiem - lacrimosa

The docks are deceptively quiet tonight.

Nothing seems amiss between the creeks of old wood and the slosh of waves breaking on the pier.

Sylus isn’t convinced of its purity.

Not when the tracker dwarfed in his palm blinks a steady red, signaling to your whereabouts.

He’d followed the signal here after it grew stagnant following an hour of movement away from the city. He waited another 45 agonizing minutes to make his move. Had to be sure he wasn’t being led into a trap and that wherever Fate’s men whisked you off to was where he’d find the others.

He stands on the edge of a weathered connex, the wind ominously ruffling his coat.

He studies the device in his hand. Paints a shadowy figure amid the bokeh of distant city lights glittering behind him. With one hand in his pocket, the composure adorning his features contrasts with the hushed maelstrom brewing beneath his skin.

He holds out his unoccupied hand for Mephisto to perch on, the crow materializing on his wrist as if summoned from thought. Mephisto preens himself, iridescent feathers gleaming in the moonlight. When he’s done, he fixes Sylus with a lifeless, scarlet stare before a holographic image emerges from his eyesight.

It’s a detailed layout of the docks. Metal containers, small, worn ships. For a second, nothing looks abnormal. Yet something stark white and rectangular piques Sylus’ intrigue.

Sylus scrutinizes the shape further before he makes out what it is. A semi-truck inconspicuously parked between stacked connexes. Three dark figures circle around it like wolves. Guards, more than likely armed. Whatever they’re protecting, it must be big.

“Well, that doesn’t look very suspicious at all,” Sylus drawls, scratching Mephisto’s head with appreciative fingers. The crow bows out of existence in a flurry of inky shadows and feathers, having served Sylus well.

He spares another glance at the tracker. The blip of your signal aligns with where the truck resides.

It is then that he decides to make his move.

A smirk tugs on the corner of his lips. It’s been a while since he’s gotten his hands dirty. Had you and the twins for that. The prospect of a good fight makes his fingers twitch, the tips of them sparking with dark red electricity.

In superhero fashion, he pitches himself forward, swallowed by the misty vines of his Evol, as he ascends from the connex at breakneck speed.

You’d make fun of him for being so dramatic; he’s sure of it. He’ll tell you all about his heroic feats when you’re safely tucked back in his penthouse with this night shoved into the furthest reaches of your minds.

He lands on sturdy feet. Insufferably cool as he maneuvers through the maze of cargo containers. The click of his shoes reverberates off damaged metal until he spots what he’s looking for.

The guards have yet to see him. Two of them pace back and forth at the truck’s rear. Another circles its perimeter, two hands on a rifle.

Such meager security for whatever’s housed in that trailer.

He breathes deeply. Fades into obscurity, drawn into the shadows of his Evol, preparing for a sneak attack. He doesn’t need to. Could effortlessly eviscerate the guards with a snap of his fingers. But where’s the fun in that?

“I don’t get paid enough for this shit,” sighs a disgruntled guard all by his lonesome in the driver seat, hands wrapped around the steering wheel. “What am I, a fuckin’ babysitter?” So caught up in his head, he’s none the wiser to Sylus’ appearance on the passenger side, amused, crimson eyes boring into his skull.

“You’re right,” Sylus replies, his voice abrasive yet cocky. “You don’t get paid enough.”

The driver doesn’t get the luxury of a scream before wispy, handlike tendrils snake around his neck. Bone snaps, followed by a sigh of life drained from cold lips. He dies with terror twisting his features, shepherded into the afterlife by The Boogeyman himself. His head slumps onto his shoulder as his energy flows into Sylus’ body.

“Now, what exactly are you babysitting,” Sylus ponders. The kingpin blinks out of existence again, readying himself to dispatch the other three henchmen.

Sylus doesn’t make a sound as he takes out the guard who’d wandered to the nose of the semi to ensure his cohort was still on the job. The other two, he snuffs out similarly, their blood gurgling in their throats and their bones crackling, music to his ears.

He rolls out the kinks in his neck and shoulders to ward off the stiffness as their life force seeps into his body. It’s been too long since he’s had some fun. Hopefully, this is the most action he’ll see for the night.

His eyes grow intense with concentration when he stares at the worn handles of the truck’s trailer. He burns with anticipation. With something of wariness nestled between. Your signal stops here, steadily buzzing on the tracker in his pocket. He clings to the notion that you’re inside, unscathed and none the worse for wear.

He shuts his eyes, focusing a stretch of energy on the handles. The doors fly off with a deafening screech of metal, sure to draw some unwarranted attention.

Nevertheless, with his hands in his pockets, he waits for the dust to settle. Leaps into the truck trailer with practiced ease, eliciting screams and gasps of varying pitches from within.

None of which sound like yours.

Red emergency lights flicker in the space inside. It reeks of mildew and sweat. Fear. Revulsion.

When the grime completely clears, Sylus makes out dozens of sets of eyes fixed on him. He stiffens. His blood turns ice cold.

Girls of diverse creeds, colors, sizes, and ages cower against the back of the trailer. All from him. He makes out at least 30 of them, crammed in the trailer like cattle awaiting slaughter.

Something in his chest pulls. His lips twitch with the threat of a grimace.

Those sick fucks.

Sylus is no saint. He’s done horrible things to equally deplorable people to increase his reign. To strike fear into those who would oppose him. Challenge his title as Onychinus’ ruler. But he’s never dreamt of doing something as vile as this.

There’s no telling how long Fate had them—these young women, these girls. How long they’ve been emaciated, deprived of food, water, and sunlight.

Sylus bristles as an image of you forms in his mind. A flash of a girl, young like these ones. Terrified yet burning with fury. Revenge rotting your mind, anger warping your tear-stricken features.

Speaking of you, he scans through the girls’ faces in search of yours. He doesn’t find you through their varying degrees of fright. Sucks in a breath through parted lips, his blood running cold.

He cautiously steps further into the trailer, and the girls inside shy away. He holds out a placating hand. Sure, he’s despicable. Terrifying, and the red light highlighting his imposing figure as he nears them doesn’t help matters. But he has to be sure you’re not nestled between them. Playing a cruel joke on him after he spent all this time hunting you down.

The tracker in his pocket vibrates violently. The group of women parts, cowering away from him like he’s something of a sickness. He stops in front of a girl who looks no older than sixteen. Peers down at her, and she shivers, swallowed by your coat. She ducks into the fur, shrouding herself from Sylus’ penetrating gaze.

There’s no mistaking this jacket. Pristine lynx fur.

One of the first he’d bought you when you joined his entourage. A peace offering, a sign of his unyielding protection.

You wore it faithfully like it was your most prized possession. No matter how many more Sylus stocked you with, you never let this particular coat go.

He smooths shaky fingers down the collar. Suddenly sees red when he tugs on the lapel, snatching the girl up, and she shrieks, her feet dangling above the floor. The other women yelp in terror, shrinking away from Sylus’ ire. He must look like a monster to them. As beastly as the men who ripped them from their homes. From freedom. But he doesn’t care as anguish drives him into rage.

It’s rare he loses his cool. But when it comes to you, things just hit differently.

“Where did you get this?” Sylus demands. He’s breathy. There's a manic look in his eyes. He’s desperate. Running out of time. For all he knows, they could’ve already sold you off to the highest bidder.

Or worse.

The girl donning your coat says nothing. Too shell-shocked, her voice corked in her throat. He recognizes the look in her eyes all too quickly. Well acquainted with it, having seen it too often in his enemies before he extinguished them like a candle’s flame.

Gravity comes sinking back in. Sylus scans the space around, the fear in the dank space palpable.

He peers at the girl, at his hand fisted in the coat, disgusted with himself. They’ve already endured so much, and he’s only exacerbating their torment. Gently, he sets the girl down. After her feet return to the floor, something clanks on the wooden boards, and she scurries away. Sylus kneels to retrieve it, the telltale gleam of a crimson gem causing his muscles to tense.

The brooch.

Your brooch.

The tracker.

The fucking—

Fuck!

A tidal wave of grief crashes into him. He squeezes the pendant in his hand, its intricate carvings biting into his fingers. Anguish mars his features. He pinches his eyes shut, curling into himself. The girls cling to the lining of the truck, scared witless.

He tamps down an impulse to scream. Instead punches the wooden floor. Punches and punches until the skin of his knuckles split, and his fist is raw, bleeding red.

You wanted him to find them first. These girls who’d been snatched away from their families, their livelihoods. Sold to deplorable men to do revolting things. To suffer. To die.

To you, this was personal. Sylus fought against using you as bait to draw out the ringleader of this trafficking act. But you wore him down, citing that he owed you this moment of redemption. Why you sought him out all those years ago.

You fucking martyr.

The trailer grows silent. Sylus feels numb as he stands, chest heaving. His fist has already mended itself when he dismounts the truck in a daze, leaving the girls cowering in his wake.

Luke and Kieran, as if sensing their boss’s shock, call him back to the present in his earpiece.

“Boss?” cautions Luke, the radio silence alarming.

“I’ve found them,” Sylus states, his tone grim. Detached. Dejected.

“And the little boss?” Kieran queries, optimism breaking through the static.

Sylus’ silence serves as their answer.

There’s a pause before Luke cryptically disrupts it. “On the way, boss,” he promises before the line cuts dead.

Sylus stares at the ground. Dissociates, starting away from the truck before the sound of merriment catches his ears.

His attention’s drawn to a sizable ship on the opposite side of the pier. It cuts a sleek outline against the horizon, bordered by smaller passenger boats.

He narrows his eyes. Homes in on the ship, exhaling slowly. If he were an auctioneer, he would hold it somewhere in plain sight. Somewhere seemingly innocent that wouldn’t raise any suspicions. What better guise than a party?

Hope spumes through him. Adrenaline. You’re so crafty sometimes, it hurts. The brooch was merely a marker. You knew he’d assemble the pieces the moment you found the others and left your brooch where he could track it.

You could very well be aboard that ship, waiting to be sold off. Waiting to be returned to a life you fled from years ago. He could only hope he was right in his deduction.

Sylus sinks into the vantablack abyss of his Evol, setting course for the cruise ship at the pier's edge. He clings to the idea that you’re onboard, safe and sound, waiting to cuss him out for taking so long to find you.

—

He needed a distraction.

There were too many innocents onboard. Or, so they seemed. He couldn’t glean the difference when he landed on the deck. He had a one-track mind.

A few partygoers eyed him suspiciously. Perhaps he didn’t blend in with his wind-swept hair, harrowed features, and suit stained dark with blood.

Regardless of their intrigued looks, he wended through the crowd. Scanned the scenery, looking for anything out of the ordinary. Anything to signal nefarious dealings taking place aboard the cruise ship. Anything that could lead him to you.

He’d heard whisperings as he descended to the mid-levels of the ship. Hushed tones speaking of meetings for the elite taking place on the lower decks.

He clung to the bits of information he extracted. Pieced them together. Found his way to the kitchen. The staff was clueless to his presence—or they ignored him, too busy whipping up meals for the ship’s guests.

Sylus grabbed who he assumed was the sous chef by the collar. Pinned him with a stare that promised pain if he wasn’t compliant.

The man cowered in his hold. The remaining cooks caught wind of it, shrinking away from Sylus’ imposing, blood-speckled figure. From the malevolence pouring in waves off his skin.

“There’s a fire in the galley,” Sylus stated between the man’s eyes. The sous chef looked at him with pinched brows. Confusion showed through his fear, as nothing was amiss.

Sylus would soon change that.

“I would advise you to start clearing out your staff. Now.” He punctuated his sentence with a growl, tossing the chef back a few paces until he stumbled into his coworkers.

They weren’t moving quick enough for Sylus, so he set his plan in motion. Turned a few knobs with a flicker of his Evol, a fire sparking on the stove. It erupted into something more menacing, the flames licking the ceiling, triggering the sprinkler system.

The kitchen staff finally sprung into action. Hurriedly poured out of the room as the shrill cry of the fire alarm pervaded the air.

With his hair matted to his face and his mouth drawn into a rigid line, Sylus moved further through the kitchen. Descended to the lower floors as people rushed past him, all seeking refuge from the fire.

At least this way, he could wheedle out the scum who’d taken you while sparing the innocent a horrible fate.

[moociaoafterdark]

Primarchs and the birds I think they would be able transform into (and why)

1) Lion - Golden Eagle. Just like lions are called "Kings of Jungle", golden eagles are sometimes called "Kings of Birds". Aside from the naming, I think Lion would love such a magnificent, pompous bird.

2) Fulgrim - Albino/White Peacock. Do I even need to say anything here? Lord Shen looking bastard. Flaunts his gorgeous tail feathers to everyone. Will start screaming at you very loudly if you don't pay him enough attention. That is especially the case if you are one of his brothers. Especially if you are Ferrus. Sorry Ferrus. Surprisingly, though, Fulgrim doesn't turn into a bird very often. Some speculate he regrets choosing the peacock as his transformation. Others believe he loves his human form way more.

3) Perturabo - Red Tailed Hawk. Just like the Heresy is named after Horus, despite Perturabo being the sole reason it got this bad for the Imperium in the first place, red tailed hawk's screech is attributed to a completely different bird. Perturabo will feel a spiritual connection with this bird species, which is why he is able to transform into it in the first place. He does wish the bird was bigger.

4) Jaghatai Khan - Peregrine. Peregrine falcons are the world's fastest birds, and one of the fastest animals on Earth. There's literally no better bird for Jaghatai than this falcon. Probably yells "falcon punch" when he dives in (The Emperor told him to do that to "intimidate his enemies")

5) Leman Russ - Pigeons. Now, fun fact - crows/ravens have a symbiotic relationship with wolves, as they often hunt together and share the spoils. As you probably guessed by now, the ravens/crows are kinda already taken by another primarch (in canon even), so I had to improvise. Enter pigeons. Just like wolves, pigeons got domesticated by humanity and have been our companions for many centuries. Pigeons, just like crows and ravens, are social birds, meaning they live in one big flock and help take care of each other. This is as close as one gets to a wolf pack dynamic in the bird world, so there we have it! Leman does use his transformation mostly for pranks or "party tricks". Never in battle. If you propose him to do that for a surprise attack, you can spot a little bit of a blush, before he angrily tells you off.

6) Rogal Dorn - Arctic Tern. I think Rogal would find the fact that those birds have the longest migration distance (48,700 km to 70,900 km) REALLY fascinating. He surprisingly takes this form very often and for a reason. Up above in the sky he gets a good look at both his own defences as well as those of the Imperium's enemies. Though he doesn't like admitting it, he simply just really likes flying and letting the wind carry him.

6) Konrad Curze - Bearded Vulture. Those fuckers EAT BONES and look like fucking dinosaurs. Konrad would LOVE to terrorize people as this bird. He'll take off the skin and meaty bits in his human form, then transform into a bird to finish the job. By the time he is done - NOTHING will be left of you... GOD I love bearded vultures. FUCKING LOOK AT THEM!!!

7) Sanguinius - Swan. Graceful. Beautiful. A symbol of love. Will break human bones with a flap of the wings (or at the very least make you bleed). Nuff said, even if the choice is a little basic. If you can't find him anywhere, chances are, he is chilling in the garden, swimming in the pond. Make sure to bring bread with you, the good one. You know, the one that's all fresh and soft. If you're still unsure, just call Warmaster Horus, he knows what bread his brother likes.

(Yes, this how swans are rescued. In Sanguinius' case, this is how he is restrained when he is being a tiny bit of a nuisance)

8) Ferrus Manus - Hummingbird. Similar to Rogal and the Arctic Tern, Ferrus would find hummingbirds fascinating by how strong and fast their wings are (and how they're the only birds able to fly backwards). Despite the birds being smaller than some insects, they have caught the attention of one of the biggest primarchs... Which is why it's hilarious when Ferrus, this gruff giant of a man, able to move mountains and wrestle wyrms, transforms into a tiiiiiny bird mid-fight. Well, it's hilarious until you are his opponent and realize you just completely lost sight of Ferrus, until he transforms back into his human form but, by then, it's too late. On the more lighter note, Ferrus loves resting while, in his bird form, nestled somewhere in Fulgrim's hair. Warm, soft AND he can be sure he wouldn't be bothered.

9) Angron - Roosters. Hoo boy. So, roosters kinda have a reputation for being aggressive, easily provoked AND also having a history of being used in bloodsports. However, roosters are very valuable if you intend to keep chickens, as they take care of the hens, protect them and, if raised properly, can actually be great pets. So, over all, we have a loving, protective and loyal bird, who is unfortunately often mistreated and misunderstood, as well as used in bloodsports even to this day, which often leaves the birds aggressive and traumatized... Sounds familiar?

God, I hate thinking about Angron, because the more I think about him, the more I want to cry. I'm actually kinda teary eyed as I'm typing this, haha.

Anyway, to lighten the mood, Angron, with nails or without them, is a local alarm clock. It doesn't matter where you are, you WILL hear his crowing and you WILL get your ass up.

10) Roboute Guilliman - Harpy Eagle. The only bird I don't have explanation for other than it looks cool. And I'm not even a huge Rowboat Girlyman fan. Would love to hear your opinion on why this does or doesn't work. And if it doesn't, I'm eager to hear your alternatives.

11) Mortarion - The Marabou Stork. If you know anything about those birds - you know they were handcrafted by Satan himself. Or, Nurgle, I guess. Morty would love them.

(Above is an attached photo of a very private meeting of the Death Guard Legion. Lord Mortarion is on the white pedestal.)

12) Magnus The Red - The Scarlet Macaw. I swear, Magnus' daemon form is supposed to resemble the scarlet macaw. The resemblance is uncanny. Perhaps he was always meant to be the Emperor's "parrot on the shoulder", instead of, what, powering the Golden Throne instead of the Emperor? Yes, he sits on his dad's shoulder and makes snarky remarks to everyone. Malcador once threw a shoe at him for that.

13) Horus Lupercal - Bald Eagle. Actually NOT bald, just like Horus isn't actually naturally bald, because he SHAVES. The fandom lied to me, this whole time I thought Horus was jealous of his father's and some of his brothers' hair, when in reality he CHOSE to be bald!

... Anyway, high key Horus (before the heresy) is the Imperium's poster boy, so it's only logical to give him the bird that is essentialy a US mascot. He loves perching very high and enjoying the winds stroke his feathers. Also, if you kiss him on his forehead, while he is in the eagle form, he will get all giddy and happy. Horus also takes his bird form to play with Sanguinius, trying to race with him in the skies. Goofs.

14) Lorgar Aurelian - The Mourning Dove. In Christianity, the mourning dove is used to represent the Holy Spirit. It's generally a bird that is associated with spirituality, being a symbol of peace, love and faith. It would be a crime for me not to assign this bird to Lorgar. In the early hours of the morning, Lorgar would take this form to coo prayers in the language no one will ever understand, making it somewhat safe for him.

15) Vulkan - Crested Auklet. These birds are mostly found nesting on volcanic islands, such as Kuril Islands and Sakhalin island. They also live in huge colonies and can form strong bonds with each other. I think this bird would remind Vulkan less of himself and more of Nocturne... Which is exactly why he would choose this bird for transformation. He is very cuddly in the bird form and smells like tangerines too. Just... Don't hold him for too long. Vulkan, even as a bird, is still a living furnace.

16) Corvus Corax - Common Raven.

... Do I need to say anything?

17) Alpharius and Omegon - Emus. What better birds for the local "Just according to plan" guys than the ones that literally won a war against humans. Seriously, what the fuck, Australia?

And as a little bonus:

The Emperor of Mankind - Cassowary. You thought it would be another eagle? Or, perhaps, the emperor penguin with the "penguins of Madagascar" joke thrown somewhere in there? Nah. He gets the bird that is literally THE tired single father of the birds. On the other hand, though, the Emperor gets to harass people in the cassowary form. Imagine having the honor of being invited to the Imperial Palace itself and as you explore you get approached by a huge, dangerous looking cassowary. You manage to befriend it, even fed it some food you had on you, before you hear panicked Custodes running in your direction, screaming for the Emperor to stop harassing the guests. The cassowary then proceeds to book it, screaming back in the very human voice that he can do whatever he wants. And now you have an idea of what a normal Monday in the Imperial Palace looks like to the Custodes.

[bottomlouisficfest]

This is the full list of fics from the Bottom Louis Fic Fest 2024. You can find more information about each fic and links to the fic posts in the bi-weekly masterposts, which will be linked in the week labels below.

Week One:

make sure you kiss your knuckles before you punch me in the face (25k)

More, More, More (9k)

.. / .-.. --- ...- . / -.-- --- ..- (I Love You) (27k)

Upon the Plot Where I Took My Eternal Residence (6k)

all you're dreaming of (61k)

Week Two:

Fly Me To Places I've Never Been (47k)

a dream awaits in aisle number two (6k)

Kiwi - It's your business! (23k)

Love is red and it looks so good on you (12k)

Blue Nights (55k)

Week Three:

The Royal Midwife (40k)

Do You Want to Know a Secret? (8k)

Your Handprints On My Hips (20k)

Roman Empire (11k)

Forget Me Not (100k)

Week Four:

Student of the Year (53k)

Anything at all (Worse than anyone) (9k)

One, two or three? (21k)

I’m a fire, and I’ll keep your brittle heart warm (12k)

Easier Than Lying (50k)

Week Five:

Help Me Make It Through The Night (23k)

cherries and honey (8k)

Me and my Husband (19k)

if i cannot bend heaven, i'll rise hell (109k)

Week Six:

God I Love the English (39k)

Lost In Psychic Dire Straits (11k)

You're Not Harry Styles (or are you?) (20k)

yours to reign (40k)

Sharp as Sugar, Sweet as Spice (60k)

Week Seven:

I am br(ok)en (53k)

Soft Hands Organics - Adore Sensitive Skin (8k)

don't make me feel special (27k)

I love it better if I repeat it many times; firefly, firefly, firefly ᡣ𐭩 (66k)

Week Eight:

No bananas in the library (36k)

we're leading each other out of the dark (16k)

I used to call you my best friend way back before you were my everything (7k)

as the summer fades away (66k)

Week Nine:

One Last Time (24k)

Wolves, I hear them calling for you (18k)

Total distraction (58k)

Eyes full of stars, heart full of sins (5k)

i know your love’s not real (68k)

Week Ten:

In The Spotlight, In His Arms (20k)

from underneath your glow (53k)

Always Yours (8k)

Midnight Doesn't Last Forever (64k)

Week Eleven:

My everything. (31k)

On a Night Like Tonight (9k)

limelight (20k)

a flicker of hope that i wanna keep (please don’t leave) (12k)

Week Twelve:

Show Me Your Soul (53k)

more at stake (17k)

Once Upon a Time (37k)

The Cobbled Streets of You and Me (5k)

The Crow Flies Straight. (80k)

Please help support this year’s fics by liking and reblogging the posts on Tumblr, liking and retweeting the posts on Twitter, giving kudos, and leaving a comment! 😊

[khaire-traveler]

The gods have horns and antlers and hooves. They have fangs and claws and whip-like tails. They have glowing eyes and skin made from steel and gold running through their veins. They have voices that sound like the cawing of crows and noses like that of wolves and ears that can hear a bee's wing fall to the ground from thousands of miles away. They have fists made from hurricanes and feet faster than the speed of light and bodies that come in shapes and sizes no mere mortal can ever even hope to comprehend.

And at the same time, the gods are soft and gentle. Their voices soothe our worries like honey soothes a sore throat. Their presences are felt in everything, from a calm drizzle of rain to the sweet caress of the sun's warm rays to the feeling of peace we feel in the rare moments of tranquility that we find in the chaotic whirlwind of life. They are the warmest hug that embraced us on our hardest days, the little voice in the back of our minds that encouraged us to hold onto hope, the soothing presence that reassured us of our safety in scary situations.

The gods are unknowable, yes, but that does not make them unreachable. They are there, extending their hands for us to grad onto when we need their support. Whether or not we can hear or see or even feel them, they are still there. They still remain.

[crow-posting]

There used to be a Jolyon Till Lore master post floating around, but I've lost track of it so I'm making my own. Tagging @purplegalaxy99 ✨

Edit: master post has been found! Thank you @thefirstknife

- - -

Jolyon Till was the friend and partner of Uldren Sov, and a current acquaintance of Crow. He is described as tall, with "narrow intelligent eyes" and blue skin, and was perceived as "happy-go-lucky" before Uldren's downfall. He is known for his skills as a Crow (Awoken intelligence) and a sniper, though he also works as a scout.

Note: though the nature of his relationship with Uldren isn't explicitly stated, it is generally interpreted as romantic, the same way Osiris and Saint-14's relationship was interpreted before being officially confirmed.

Jolyon is mostly known for breaching the Black Garden alongside Uldren [The Forsaken Prince], but he also created the Lord of Wolves shotgun. His signature weapon is the Supremacy, a rapid-fire sniper rifle; his secondary weapon, like all other scouts, is a Vestian Dynasty sidearm.

Not much is known about Jolyon's personal life, though Uldren knew "everything about him." He knew someone named Laviska [1] and attended the same combat academy as Uldren [2], and is known to be rational, but it is unknown whether he is a Distributary Awoken or has any family or loved ones besides the Sovs.

Like Petra and the Techeuns, he can travel to / from / around the Dreaming City but is not tied to its curse. Whether this is because he didn't die during the curse's activation (like Amrita did), or simply due to the inconsistencies within the curse lore, is currently unknown.

- - -

Edit:

Jolyon has been mentioned twice in-game: first in this memory from Haunted, then in this radio message from Wish.

(Thanks @theforsakenprince for the addition!)

Editing this for future readers, link to better version is also in the comments.

[thewalkingkale]

Unfair || A One-Shot

SKZHOPFICS Masterlist

Desc: Everyone tells you to avoid the castle in the woods, and in turn, the man who lives in it. You've never been one to do as you're told.

Warnings: kidnapping, character near-death, lots of angst, mutism, blood and injury, this one gets a little heavy for a second there folks!

dt: my friends trick and court, who helped me make it the gorgeous gorgeous girl it is ❤️

Author's notes: my first ever skz fic 😭😭 I hope you all love it as much as I loved working on it! Also waxingracha changed their hair AS i was writing so if hair colors aren't correct pls forgive me. Felix has dark hair and Hyunjin has his buzz cut lol.

(y/n) is gender neutral, they/them pronouns used

A crow called from somewhere in the woods, and I nearly jumped out of my skin. The air was cold now, dense and heavy with the evening air. I had been lost for hours, the woods were twisty and the path was beginning to disappear into the wet, heavy snow. The woods watched me as I walked, hood up and lantern held forward in front of me as I desperately tried to make sense of where I was. Bushes rustled behind me and I stopped, my heart lurching in my chest as I spun around.

“Who’s there?!” I called. There was no response.

My brother had warned me about these woods. Yet I had to be the one to go hunting and get myself lost. Good job, idiot, I thought to myself as I trudged through the wet, heavy snow. Being so close to the castle (read: being in these woods at all), so close to sunset, was a terrible idea. I had since lost sight of the towering structure to the treeline, not knowing which way was towards or away from it. I tried desperately to steady my breathing and continued down the path, only to walk a few steps before I was interrupted by rustling once again, this time accompanied by a growl. I froze, shoulders hunched in fear, as I turned to face the hungry pack of wolves now emerging from the shrubline. I couldn't breathe, the barks and growls echoing in my ears along with my heartbeat. I tried to back away but every step of distance I tried to put between me and the wolves was quickly replaced.

With one final bark and a snarl, the leader of the pack lunged, and I instinctively shielded my face and ducked. The rows of sharp, yellow teeth never came. There was a scuffle, a whimper and a yelp accompanied by a pained grunt from a voice almost as deep as the wolf’s growl and then… silence. As I uncovered my face, I was met by the sight of a man. I could hear footfalls, and my name being called in the distance, but I couldn't take my eyes off of him.

He was tall, lanky, with long, dark hair. I stood, slowly, and watched as the wolves retreated back into the woods. The woods stood still, the air between us so thick with tension and hostility it was almost hard to breathe. As he turned, I noticed his face. Although scarred, he was… handsome. His eyebrows were creased, not in concern, but in annoyance. In anger, and hatred. He held his arm tightly as he approached.

“What the hell do you think you're doing here?”

“(Y/N)!”

A voice from behind me tore through the steady, anxious silence around me as footsteps followed. I could tell it was my brothers, but I couldn't look back. I couldn't seem to tear my own eyes away from the man before me, his own stare tense, and piercing. I listened to my brother fall behind me into the snow at the sight of him.

“It's… it's the prince… the one from the stories…” He muttered.

Oh.

“Were you raised in a cave or something?” He spat, “Didn't your parents teach you not to go into the woods alone?”

That would explain the anger. We had heard so many stories growing up about staying out of the woods, about the man who lived in the looming castle just outside the village. Some said he was a brutal murderer who did away with anyone who trespassed on his land. Some said he wasn't actually a prince, but an ugly troll king who ate anyone who got lost in the woods. Others debated whether or not he was humanoid at all, a tale of a beast in the woods, turned that way by a witch. I remembered the countless who got lost in these woods and never returned, or were found horridly injured, or mangled, or within an inch of their life, but I never expected the culprit to be… a man. A regular, human man, a handsome one at that. The prince before us rolled his eyes, stepping closer to us and grabbing my wrist harshly.

“I asked you a question.” He snarled. Now that he was close enough, I noticed the rips in his sleeve, and the blood along with it, dripping into the pure, white snow.

“You… You're hurt…”

“Nevermind that. Answer the damn question,” I sucked in a hiss as his grip tightened, tugging at my own arm.

“Step away from them,” (b/n) barked from behind me, “Don't you dare try anything.”

“Or what?” The prince looked at him over my shoulder, “You'll kill me? All by yourself?”

“Or die trying, and I would be doing the world a service.”

“No shit. You’d be doing me one too.”

My brain tuned out the bickering as if on instinct, the world around me disappearing as the prince’s eyes nearly bore holes into me with his direct, angry gaze. Time itself seemed to slow, the background distorting with my nervousness. I moved slowly, so as not to make him any angrier, lifting our wrists to get a better look at the injury to his arm. He flinched, and I paused.

“I'm a healer in the village… Please, I can-” My voice jolted as he ripped his arm away so quickly and with such force that I fell forward, and he stepped aside to let me fall into the snow. I scrambled into a position to face him, trying to get back on my feet as he stalked towards my brother.

“You have some nerve threatening me on my land.”

“You have a lot of nerve showing your ugly face in the daylight. I've hoped all my life I would be the one to finally kill you,” My brother took out his dagger

“This ugly face just saved your sibling from getting eaten by wolves,” the prince spat back, twisting my brother’s arm behind his back and quickly disposing of the dagger.

“Stop!” My voice ripped through the tense air before I could stop it, “Don't hurt him, I’m the one you want. I'm the reason he’s even out here. I got lost, and I wandered onto your land. Take me instead, just… please…” I trailed off as the prince stopped.

“Don’t even think about touching them,” my brother grunted from the prince’s hold.

“Well, I'm taking one of you. I saved them, and it’s only fair,” He looked between the two of us, seemingly weighing his options, “Life for a life.”

My lungs about stopped functioning with the tension as his eyes finally settled on me, lingering for only a moment before he finally released my brother. The snow crunched under his heavy boots as he stormed over to me, yanking me off the ground and setting off into the woods, not stopping or slowing down, and very obviously not caring if I followed or if he dragged me on my knees through the dirt.

“Where are you taking them?”

A stupid question.

“Where do you think?”

An expected snarky response.

“I'll.. I'll come back for them! A-And I’ll have more people this time!”

“You won't make it through the woods.”

There was no response except the sound of my brother coming to his feet and running off, and as his footfalls grew quieter and quieter, dread settled into my stomach. The blood drained from my face as I tried to keep up with the prince’s pace, looking at the snowy forest floor as we walked.

“What's your-” I started, after a while, and was cut off just as quickly as the words could leave my throat.

“Here are the rules,” The prince turned to face me, still gripping my wrist with a force I was sure would bruise, “You are going to refer to me as ‘Prince’ or ‘Sir’, and I am not going to refer to you by name at all. You’re going to fix my arm, and then you belong to me, you aren't going back to your pathetic little village, or your pathetic little life. Got that?”

“... Are you done?”

He looked shocked. When was the last time anyone ever spoke to him, and not at, or around him? When was the last time someone had ever been in his general presence like this?

“Don't… don't talk to me like that. I thought you knew who I was? Are you stupid or something?” He scoffed, turning and continuing down the path, his ears tinting pink.

“Are you? I don't remember acting as if I didn't.” I mumbled. This man was starting to piss me off. He was supposed to be a beast, or a monster, in the woods in a castle eating babies, or something. Not a young, handsome man with an attitude problem. His power, his legend,and he had the attitude of a toddler who needed a nap. No claws, no gigantic sharp teeth. Just a guy. I thought he had decided to ignore me before his deep voice interrupted the sounds of the wood around us as the snow turned into rain.

“Felix.”

“What?” I asked, incredulous.

“My name. Yours next,”

“... (Y/N).”

“What a dumb name.”

It really hadn't occurred to me just how… huge the castle would be right up next to it like this. As we stepped out of the wood, the freezing cold rain pouring down onto us, I couldn't help but pause in utter awe at the sight of it. He paused with me, eyes flickering to my face, and then down at the ground again. I eyed the architecture, the beautiful towers and artful stained-glass windows… in which I could see… was that movement?

It occurred to me then, he wasn't alone. I could see curtains being drawn, there was a man cleaning the windows in an upper story room, and I could see the small, twinkling light of torches dotting the walls. As he led me up the steps, an animated set of armor met us at the top, hands outstretched. Felix took his cloak off and placed it in the armor’s arms, nudging me to do the same. I did, studying the images carved across the metal chestplate and the shape of the chainmail. Once it had obtained both of our cloaks, it walked away, clunky and loud. I watched it for a moment before turning back to Felix, who took my wrist in his hand again and pulled me forward.

I followed his stride, still not completely focused on him, but his beautiful home as he opened the main castle doors. The foyer was so huge it nearly took my breath from my lungs, as dark and dusty as it was. There was a carpet leading to the grand staircase, accompanying the matching patterned drapes in the grand windows, all a deep, royal shade of purple. Photos lined the walls, an older couple and their children, Felix obviously being one of them. There was a fireplace on either side of the staircase, each accompanied by a bookcase, a loveseat, and a coffee table. I followed Felix up the stairs in awe of the room around me, eyeing the decor and running my hand along the mahogany wood railing.

I could feel Felix’s eyes on me, but it was at the bottom of my priority list as we reached the top of the steps and I could really see the artwork on the ceiling. There were… angels in the sky, the setting sun turning the clouds vibrant pinks and purples. Felix stopped so I could continue admiring his foyer, eyes wide with wonder. His never left my face, studying my cheeks, nose, and mouth. I pretended not to notice the way the corners of his lips turned slightly upward, before straightening again into a tight scowl, his eyebrows crinkling as he turned away. Once again, we walked. He led me down a short hallway and through a door decorated mostly in pastel blues and greens, a large bed in the center and a door to one of the many balconies. The curtains swayed in the wind and the rain and thunder could be heard outside.

“This is where you’ll sleep,” He said, letting go of my hand so I could wander. I trailed the walls of the room, looking at the vanity he had all set up, the pictures beautifully painted in blue hues on the walls, in golden frames. The wainscotting was all in gold as well, giving the room an… elegant, regal feel. To say I felt like royalty was an understatement.

Felix followed me in, watching me closely and sitting in one of the chairs on the wall opposite the bed, which boasted a fireplace and a tea table. As he did so, another man walked in, about his age, with a blond buzz cut. He had a short, adorable nose and thick lips. He started to set some supplies down on the table, it looked like bandages and gauze, tinctures to help prevent infection in his wounds. He looked up at me and smiled.

“I didn't know anyone lived here with you,” I wondered, walking up to the man and shaking his hand. He didn't speak.

“My name is (Y/N).”

Still, silent, the man bowed. I looked at Felix in confusion.

“The help can’t speak,” He sighed, avoiding my eyes as he took his shirt off and handed it to the man who had brought the supplies, “His name is Hyunjin.”

“Oh,” I pondered for a moment as I desperately tried to keep my focus on his arm instead of his now-bare chest, my face bursting with pink hue. It must be the curse I had read about. Maybe this place was affected by a witch.

“Thank you, Hyunjin.” I smiled kindly, and as I walked to the table, he stopped me, hands at my shoulders, and looked deeply into my eyes, nodding, as if to ask if I was alright. This man was so… kind. I couldn't help the warmth on my cheeks as I nodded, and he returned it as he let me go, giving Felix a nod and a bow before leaving the room.

I sat across from Felix with the supplies and began to work, short hisses and groans left Felix’s mouth as I did so. It was deeper than it looked, but the blood had stopped, for now. I wiped as much of the dried blood and dirt away from the claw marks as possible, trying to hold his arm still as I worked. Of course, however, he was making it difficult. He seemed to have a knack for making things difficult.

“Stop squirming.” I scolded.

“Stop hurting me.” He scoffed.

“If you don't stop moving I won't help you. How’s that?”

“If you don't help me, I’m locking you in here. How’s that?”

We stared at each other for a moment, eyes locked and squinted at each other as we glared. His glare was… unthreatening, for the first time today. I sighed and continued my work, finishing up the last of the bandages. I shot him one last piercing glance, cleaning up the bloodied gauze and stitches from the table and was about to get up when Hyunjin appeared again, taking the supplies from me with a smile and leaving.

“Lets go over some rules,” Felix started, taking the new shirt Hyunjin had grabbed for him off the table and pulling it over his head.

“More rules?” I complained, not meeting his eye. He glared, but continued.

“You are not to step foot in the West Wing of the castle. It is absolutely forbidden, under any and all circumstances. Understand?”

“I… suppose so, whats-”

“It's none of your business. Just… promise me you'll listen.”

I could see the sincerity swirling around his eyes, he seemed almost… desperate. I nodded, and he relaxed and continued.

“Do not leave this room after midnight. Under ANY circumstances. You’ll be safe in here, but…” He looked towards the door, and then back at me, “... I can't guarantee anything between midnight and sunrise.”

“O…kay…” I stuttered, “Anything else?”

He was silent, observing my face quietly before standing, walking toward the open door and holding the doorknob to close it, but Hyunjin stepped in front of him. The two shared a silent argument, Hyunjin’s eyebrows raised as he pointed at me from the hallway, and Felix sighed, head turning over his shoulder.

“You’ll dine with me each evening. Tonight is no exception. Hyunjin will come grab you when the food is ready.”

With that, he left, slamming the door behind him. As the silence filled the space around me, as did the gravity of the situation, I collapsed to the ground and wept into folded knees. I was taught to fear him. I was taught that entering the woods alone would surely result in my death, at the hands of a faceless monster. Yet, here I was, unable to keep myself from feeling… bad. Guilty. He was just a man, as far as I knew. How long had he been trapped here, his only company being people that couldn't speak to him, all alone? At that moment I wished he was a beast. A big, ugly, hairy monster with teeth the size of my hands. He’d be easier to kill that way, easier to make my escape, and I wouldn't feel so horrible for him.

Dinnertime came quickly, a quiet knock on the door interrupting my thoughts. I hurriedly wiped my tears, opening the door to see a smiling Hyunjin behind it. I tried to return the smile as he took my hand, leading me to the large dresser on one of the walls and throwing it open. In it were clothes finer than just about anything I had in my closet back home. He took out a few pieces, mostly dark in color, all made of fine fabrics that even looked expensive. He looked concentrated as he held them to my face one by one, in the end handing me the one he thought would look best and smiling, about to leave the room again before he noticed the redness in my cheeks, the puffiness in my eyes. His expression quickly changed to worry as he held one of my cheeks, examining my eyes.

“I'm okay… I'm homesick already.”

He made a sympathetic face, his other hand coming up to my face as well and holding it gently. I smiled at him, sniffling and taking a breath. He gave my cheek a light pat, and left the room so I could dress up for dinner. As I changed, I thought of Hyunjin. Who was he before? Before the curse affected him, before he lost his speech? Was he always “help”, or was he a prince just like Felix? Did he live here, or was he taken, like me? I sighed to myself as I straightened out my hair in the mirror, brushing the wrinkles off of my new outfit, and heading out the door. Hyunjin’s jaw dropped as I came into view, his hand coming to his chest as he eyed my new look, circling me and then giving me an excited thumbs up. I couldn't help but smile back at him as he offered me his arm, and we headed down the stairs.

Felix waited at the bottom, also dressed in more… regal looking clothes. A blue suit coat with tails, a white frilly shirt underneath and black pants. His hair was slicked back, but still down, a few stubborn strands hanging in his face. I couldn't help but stare as he fumbled nervously with the rings on his hands, not meeting my eyes. He was handsome, alright. Hyunjin noticed my staring and nudged my side teasingly, giving me a smile. I smacked him gently and smiled back.

Once Felix finally noticed us coming down the steps, he seemed to stop as well, staring me up and down in my new clothes. I watched his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed hard, evidently getting more nervous.

“How do I look? Hyunjin, here, has an eye for this kind of thing.” I looked up at the darker haired man who smiled, rolling his eyes and flapping his hand as if to say, “Its nothing,”

“You look… fine. Let's just eat,” Felix cleared his throat, and Hyunjin almost passed me to him, letting my arm wrap around Felix’s. Hyunjin stopped me and flashed me thumbs up, eyebrows raised as if it were a question. I nodded, and Hyujin returned it and walked away.

“You and Hyunjin seem to be becoming fast friends,” Felix commented, obviously still nervous, “Are you… settling in okay?”

“Felix… you don't have to do that, you know.”

He scoffed, “Do what, exactly?”

“... Pretend like you want to talk to me.”

He was silent the rest of the walk to the dining hall, a grand feast being all set up on the table. Another man with a square jawline and sharp cupid's bow was finishing up setting the table, smiling at us as we walked in. I thanked whatever deity that could hear me that the table wasn't one of those awfully long, royal dining tables with two seats miles apart. How awkward.

The man pulled out a chair for me and I smiled, nodding and giving him a quiet, “Thank you.”

“That's Jeongin.”

The man in question smiled and took my hand, kissing my knuckles gently. I giggled a little, “It's very nice to meet you, Jeongin.”

Once the candles were lit and Jeongin had left, hopefully to go eat his own meal for the evening, we ate quietly. The air was less tense now, the silence between the two of us not as awkward or formal as it had been. I observed him quietly as I ate, noticing the freckles that littered his cheeks like stars and his wide eyes, his irises, dark brown pearls that sparkled in the light of the candles and the rising moon.

“Who said I didn't want to?”

I froze, “I'm.. I'm sorry, I don't quite understand what you mean.”

“I… I never said I didn't want to talk to you, or that I was ‘pretending’ to want to talk to you.” He didn't meet my eyes as he spoke, just picking at his plate nervously, “I… I think we should… at least get to know each other a little, if you're going to be stuck in my castle.”

Somehow, someway, it occurred to me then and only then… it wasn't that he didn't want to talk to me, it was that… he didn't know how. When was the last time he had talked to anyone that could respond to him? When was the last time he met someone who didn't immediately cower at the sight of him? A small smile crossed my cheeks, and as I let out a breathy chuckle I watched his cheeks and ears turn pink.

“I would like that, Felix.”

“I'm… I'm sorry I called your name dumb.”

I couldn't help but laugh a little as I went back to my meal. From there, the conversation flowed a bit more easily. There were a few awkward bumps, I learned my boundaries of discussion with the lost prince fairly quickly. At the end of our meal, he even walked me to my bedroom, giving me a small smile and a bow.

“Goodnight, (Y/N).”

“Goodnight, Felix.” My voice came out wobbly, a lot breathier than I meant it to. His smirk told me he noticed as he turned and walked down the stairs towards the West Wing of the castle. I entered my bedroom and was almost immediately disturbed by a knock on the door. I opened it to find Hyunjin and Jeongin, both smiling expectantly. I rolled my eyes and let them in, Jeongin placing a tea set down and pouring a cup while Hyunjin set up a privacy screen and grabbed a night gown from the dresser, slinging it over the screen. I nodded in thanks, but before I could disappear behind the screen, Hyunjin grabbed my arm, motioning to his lips, to him and Jeongin, and then imitating eating with a fork. ‘Tell us about dinner,’ his actions beckoned.

“... You want to know how dinner was? It was… It was nice,” I said with a smile, disappearing behind the shade as I heard a sigh, and came around the corner just in time to see them shaking their heads in disappointment.

“What?! I have nothing else to say,” I giggled, “If I didn't know any better, I would think you were trying to set me up with your boss.”

Hyunjin feigned hurt, his hand lightly brushing his chest as his jaw dropped, Jeongin behind him looking around and pretending not to hear me. I couldn't help but giggle at their antics as Hyunjin looked at Jeongin and pointed at him, who shook his head and pointed in return. They both looked back at me and shrugged, and I rolled my eyes, sitting in one of the chairs by the fireplace as Jeongin lit it for me.

“Yeah, well, you have to get him to like me first. We can talk when he promotes me from prisoner to house guest, how’s that?” We shared silent laughter, the two boys putting their hands up in defeat. Jeongin got up to leave, and before Hyunjin followed him out the door he took my hand and gave it a squeeze. I returned it, smiling up at him. As they left, the sound of the door shutting echoing through the room, I sighed and stared into the fire. There were worse places to be.

Over the next couple of days, sleep came surprisingly easy, especially in such a comfortable bed. Other than dinner, Felix mostly left me alone; whether it was to let me adjust, or because he didn't want to see me, I wasn't terribly concerned which. Both days Hyunjin entered my room shortly after sunrise to wake me, Jeongin following behind with a tea tray. They picked out an outfit for me together and left me to change. I spent this alone time going through the books in the case by the fireplace, flying through title after title.

The third day started as normal, however once I was changed, Hyunjin came back into my room, offering his arm with a smile. I raised an eyebrow at him, but he just winked at me and gave me a nudge. Although cautious still, I couldn't help but trust him. Maybe it was his kind smile… or maybe, his gentle eyes. Either way I hooked my arm around his, and just like my first evening, he led me down the stairs to meet Felix in the foyer. He was dressed in a frilly white shirt with a low neckline, sleeves rolled up, and black pants, raven-colored hair half up in a bun while the rest fell at his shoulders. Save for the hair, he looked just like he did when I met him, just less bloody.

“Good morning.” He said curtly, “I… I know I've told you where you can't go… but I wanted to show you some places you can. If… you want me to.”

He offered his arm without looking at me. I couldn't help but smirk to myself a little as I took it. He showed me the main sitting room, the sunroom on the roof, and a washroom with a huge clawfoot tub. I nearly salivated at the thought of taking nice, warm baths in that thing.

“It's… a bathtub,” Felix sounded genuinely confused, raising an eyebrow.

“It’s a huge bathtub,” I moved further into the washroom to inspect it. Felix followed behind me, a single eyebrow raised as he watched me.

“Free meals, the finest clothes in a continent, a whole castle, and you’re this excited about… a bathtub,” He teased.

“Can we stop saying it? It’s starting to sound like a fake word.”

“What? Bathtub?”

“… I hate you.”

“I’m sure.”

Something felt different as I took his arm again. He wasn’t scowling, or avoiding my eyes, or insulting me. His expression wasn’t hateful, or malicious, or irritated. Time stopped for a moment as our eyes met again, faces close together now as our arms linked. There was something pretty about him. Maybe it was his plump, pink lips, or the curve of his nose. The way his smile, as rare as it was, made his eyes crinkle nearly shut, or the way his Adam's apple bobbed when he laughed. He cleared his throat, and I realized just how long I had been staring at his mouth, quickly averting my eyes to the floor as we continued on.

The castle library was huge, wall to wall to wall lined with thousands of books. I was in such awe at the sheer amount that he actually chuckled at me, once again teasing me with a smile.

“Bathtubs, and books. You’re a very simple person to please.”

“I’ll be the happiest prisoner you’ve ever had with access to all these books,” I picked a random title off of one of the shelves and read the description on the back.

“A whole castle, and they’re going to spend most of their time in a tub or a library,” Felix mumbled quietly, voice almost so low I couldn’t hear it. I squinted at him.

“Better in here than in your hair, right?” I reached for his arm on instinct, he gladly obliged.

“You have a point.”

I told him I was going to spend the day in the sunroom on top of the castle, having grabbed a couple books as we left the library. He disappeared, only for a moment before I heard the door open and close again, Felix joining me on the sofa. It was a sunny day, the snow and rain finally slowing and the clouds parting. How I loved sunny spring days. Even more so spent with a good book.

I was disturbed from my book by a hand nudging my own. Felix’s face was still buried in his book, his cheeks red, as he tried to ignore the fact that his fingers were ever so gently brushing my knuckles. I let my own wander along his rings, up and down his hands. They were softer than I thought they’d be. Eventually his index finger hooked itself around my own, loosely at first, then tightening once I didn't pull away. I couldn't help but smile a little, leaning my face forward to feel the sun on my cheeks. It was… the most pleasant I had felt in days. Felix’s face even relaxed a little and his eyes stopped scanning the same line, finally able to focus.

We ate dinner together like usual, the conversation about the respective books we were reading flowing like water, almost effortless, as if we had known each other forever. As we laughed, and I got a good look at his smile, my heart seemed to flutter in my chest. His laugh reverberated through the air, and I couldn't help but pause, and just… listen. Of course once he realized, he got shy. He cleared his throat and cast his gaze downward. We walked around the palace again after we ate, neither of us really wanting to part from each other for bed just yet. Eventually, however, we meandered our way to my bedroom.

“Thank you… for today, I mean,” I nervously played with my knuckles as I spoke, unable to meet Felix’s eyes, “It… it meant a lot to me, makes me feel a lot less like a prisoner, you know?”

Felix’s only response was to lean downward and kiss me on the cheek. The motion made my whole body pause, my cheeks burned as the scent of his cologne assaulted my senses, a sharp, citrusy foreground and a hint of sweetness in the background. I looked up at him, my eyes meeting his in an instant. Both our cheeks burned a bright red, and he cleared his throat again before giving me a nod.

“Goodnight, (Y/N).” His voice was destructively soft, my knees going weak at the sound.

“Goodnight Felix,” I reached up to give his arm a gentle squeeze, debating going in for a hug… and then deciding against it. Once I got into my room and shut the door, I desperately tried to slow my breathing, cupping my own cheeks trying to cool them down. All of this drama for a man I just met. How irritating.

Hyunjin and Jeongin came in shortly afterwards. I'm not sure why I tried to hide my embarrassment from Hyunjin, he could read me like a book. He noticed how flustered I was almost immediately and grabbed my shoulders, raising an eyebrow at me. Jeongin was at his side shortly after.

“What?”

He raised his other eyebrow.

“Alright, alright… he might’ve… kissed me.”

Hyunjin’s face dropped, his breathing going shallow and then… a strangled noise came out of his mouth. He touches his throat, swallowing, and then trying to speak again. As he tried, and tried again, his eyes lost more and more hope.

“What… hey, what's wrong? Are you okay?” I grabbed his arms, gently rubbing circles with my thumbs. He pointed to his cheek… and then his lips. My fingers came up to touch my cheek, and he sighed, his face falling. The dots finally connected themselves in my head then.

“Hyunjin,” I hooked my finger under his chin, forcing him to look at me, “I need to know exactly what's going on here. I want to help you… all three of you.”

Hyunjin sighed, Jeongin coming up behind him and grabbing his shoulder, furiously shaking his head, ‘no.’

“Why not? If you guys want to get your voices back, I need to know how I can help.” I pleaded, Hyunjin sighed and separated himself from me, beginning to clean up the tea set, the old clothes, and my paper and quill, leaving me the cup of tea to drink before bed, and following Jeongin out. He gave me a sad smile as they left in a hurry, slamming the door behind them. I stood in the center of my room, bewildered. I sighed, sitting down in my chair by the fireplace, picking up the book I had started and opening it to my bookmarked page to begin reading before bed when a paper fell out.

(Y/N),

You were right. You deserve to know the truth. Follow the hallway to the West Wing that Felix takes every night once the clocks strike midnight. I’ll meet you there, and I’ll show you everything you need to know. Please don't tell Jeongin.

If I may, I'm begging you not to leave after you see this. Please have faith in us.

Hyunjin

As midnight struck and the grandfather clocks could be heard harmonizing all through the castle, I opened my bedroom door, having re-dressed myself in some of the more simple clothes in the wardrobe. I gently walked through the castle halls, following the same route Felix did every evening after he walked me to my bedroom. I came across the door to the West Wing of the castle after turning a corner, and my heart dropped to my stomach. Covered in claw marks, a large metal door with a padlock stood before me. I turned away, looking to find a different way in, but ran into a sturdy chest instead.

Hyunjin caught my arms, a somber look on his face. He sighed, turning me around to face the door again before taking a key out of his pocket. He took a deep breath, undoing the padlock and putting it into his pocket. He gave me a look, sad, and scared, almost asking if I was sure I wanted to do this. I nodded, taking a deep breath of my own and trying to steady my heart.

The door creaked open, revealing a corridor that didn't look quite… done yet. The wallpaper was coming off the walls and the carpets were torn in some places, the wooden floors damaged and unfinished in some spots. Thunder rumbled in the distance as I heard the door creak shut, Hyunjin closing it and taking my arm as he had so many times since I got here. I clutched onto his forearm tightly, taking slow and tentative steps down the corridor. Once we reached a certain point in the hallway, Hyunjin tapped my arm and nodded to the paintings on the walls.

There was one of a man, who looked just like Felix, sitting atop a pile of gold. A witch, old and grimey, in a black robe with a pointy hat. Felix and the witch having an argument, the witch placing a spell on the castle. A single red rose, a petal falling slowly to the ground, as a big, brown beast loomed in the background. The last was of Felix, lying on the ground, the rose dead and wilted.

My lungs entirely emptied themselves of air as if I had been punched, my eyes burning with tears. Hyunjin noticed this immediately, tugging me across the hall to the next painting. It was… Felix, and another person. They were holding each other, the rose fully intact. The cogs in my brain spun as I looked at Hyunjin.

“If Felix doesn't get someone to fall in love with him before the petals fall off of the rose… he’ll die,” I whispered, “...But if he does fall in love and it’s requited… he gets to live?”

Hyunjin nodded, then pointed to his throat.

“... And you'll get to speak again?”

Another nod, more enthusiastic this time. I sighed, dread settling into my chest. Hyunjin led me through the hallway, opening the door to what, at first, looked like a storage area. However the further we got, the more visible a dim, red glow became. Hyunjin let go of my arm as I followed the light, and once I moved the boxes and other junk, there it was.

The rose. Sitting under a glass case, one petal left. Tears came to my eyes again. One. He had one chance left… before… that was it. I backed away slowly, my breath coming in short, rapid pulls as I clutched at my chest. The room seemed to cave in around me as I moved backwards, Hyunjin catching me and pulling me into his arms, leading me out of the room. He shut the door behind him, pulling me arms length away and looking into my eyes, nodding the usual question.

Are you okay?

I nodded, wiping my tears. Hyunjin took a deep breath, prompting me with a wave of his hands to do the same, and we continued down the hallway. The further we got down the hallway, the louder this... banging had become. It was shaking the walls, Hyunjin was becoming increasingly nervous as we ventured on. As we turned the corner we came across another metal door, this one in even worse shape than the last. Whatever was behind it pounded on it and bellowed.

“Stupid… (Y/N)… stupid… witch…”

“No…” I whispered, “Tell me that isn't…”

Hyunjin’s eyes took their turn filling to the brim with tears as he nodded. His eyes did not meet mine, trained on the door as a tear fell down his cheek. I took a deep inhale, turning to the door and placing a hand on it, then, before Hyunjin could stop me, opening it slowly. It creaked, causing the large, brown-furred, bear-looking monster in front of me to pause. He turned to face me, a snarl ever-present on his face, his large, sharp teeth glinting in the moonlight. His eyes were a cloudy grey, I almost wondered if he could see me at all. I was clued into the fact that he could as he threw a chair at the door, letting out the loudest roar I had ever heard.

“Get… OUT!”

I shut the door just in time for the chair to hit it, smashing into pieces on impact. Another roar could be heard, and then bounding footsteps away from the door. I leaned my back against it, facing Hyunjin, who wasn't doing much better than I was. His cheeks were puffy, eyes rimmed red and brimming with tears. I nearly slid down the door, but Hyunjin caught me, taking me by the shoulders with a sniffle and leading me away from the door, from the West Wing, away from Felix. As we stopped in front of my bedroom, he pulled me into a tight hug, burying his head in my shoulders.

“You really care about him… don't you?”

Hyunjin nodded, not meeting my gaze. I sighed.

“Me too.”

I didn't sleep well that night. Hyunjin came to wake me after what felt like minutes, pulling open the blinds and gently shaking my shoulder. Jeongin poured me a cup of tea, same as every morning, except this time with a glare at Hyunjin. The air felt heavy around us as we got ready for our day, same as we had been, just a lot… quieter. Hyunjin tried to take the tray from Jeongin, however Jeongin swiped it away and shot him a pointed glance. Once dressed, I looked at Hyunjin sternly.

“Take me to him.”

Jeongin stepped in, touching Hyunjin’s shoulder with a shake of his head, but I stopped him, “Don't. I need to speak with him. Take. Me. To him.”

Jeongin’s grip tightened on Hyunjin’s shoulder, who shook it off and returned his glare from earlier. The two stayed like this for a while before Jeongin finally sighed, stomping out of the room. Hyunjin offered his arm to me then, refusing to meet my eyes. I desperately hoped this would go smoother than it was shaping out to as Hyunjin brought me to the sunroom. Felix stood with his face to the sky, enjoying the sun across his cheeks. A pit formed in my stomach as I looked at him. Both of nerves, and of…despair. He was beautiful. He was the sunshine itself. My heart rate rose and heat fanned across my cheeks as I looked at him, a realization I had prayed I would never come to hit me like a sack of bricks. In that moment, watching the peace dance across his face in the form of sunbeams and shadows, I knew.

I did not know if it would be enough to break the curse, but I knew.

“What did I tell you?” He asked quietly. I swallowed hard.

“Not to go into the West Wing.”

“And what did you do?”

“Felix, I-”

“What. Did. You. Do?”

“... I disobeyed you.”

“You disobeyed me. Do you even realize how hurt you could have gotten had I not realized it was you in there?” Felix closed in on me as his voice rose in volume. I tried to stand my ground.

“I… I deserve to know what’s going on, Felix, maybe I can help, I-”

“You have no idea what I am up against here. Absolutely none.” His eyes flickered between my own, our faces so close our noses almost touched. The proximity made me dizzy as he glared into my eyes.

“I would if you would talk to me. I want to help you, I… I care ab-” He turned away, cutting off my sentence.

“You do not. Don't lie to me like that.”

“I'm not lying, you idiot, don't tell me how I feel.”

“Go away.”

“No, Felix, please…”

He spun around to meet my eyes as he glared daggers as sharp as his voice, speaking through gritted teeth, “I said. Go. Away.”

I opened my mouth to argue, and shut it again. There was nothing I could say that would make him listen. I sighed, turning on my heels and walking out the door and down the steps to the main floor, my shoes clicking as I walked. I slammed my door shut once I reached my room, collapsing against it and into tears. What the hell had I gotten myself into? Regret swirled around in my head and my stomach as I crossed my arms over my bent knees, clutching at my elbows as I wept. I wished I had never gone into the woods that day. I wished I had never met him. At least then, I wouldn't know the pain of pining over someone who was just lonely. Minutes, or maybe hours, passed, and as my sobs began to slow and my breath stilled, a knock on the door shook me from my shaken stupor.

The sun was just beginning to set, beams of purple and pink streaking through my bedroom windows. I sighed, getting up from my spot on the floor and opening the door, then walking to my desk, figuring it was just Hyunjin and Jeongin. However, when the room wasn't filled with the sounds of the two puttering around, I paused, looking towards the door. There stood Felix, eyes looking everywhere but me as he played with the rings on his fingers.

“You can come in, I don't bite,” My tone sharpened as the last word left my mouth, and I regretted it instantly.

He stepped over the threshold slowly, eyes finally meeting my own. They were rimmed red, his eyes glazed and bloodshot while his lids were puffy. I stood immediately, rushing to him and placing my hands on his shoulders. He flinched at my touch, but didn't shy away from it.

“What's wrong, Felix?”

“I… I think it's best if you go.”

“...What?” His lips wobbled as he tried to regain his composure.

“I said,” He shook my arms off of him, steeling his gaze, even though his eyes were still teary, “Go. I have no use for you anymore. Get the hell out of my castle.”

My heart lurched as he turned and started to walk away, my words bubbling up and out of my mouth in sheer and utter panic, “I know about the rose.”

He stopped, his shoulders tensing. I tried to still my shaking hands as I continued, “I found it… when I found you. I… I want to help you, Felix, you just have to let me, I-”

“Stop pretending you know anything about me,” He growled as he grabbed me by my shoulders, shaking me as he spoke, “I've known you a week. You know absolutely nothing about the curse I bear.”

“This doesn't have to be so complicated, Felix, just talk to me,” I pleaded, my voice coming out in broken sobs. Tears filled his eyes as he pushed me forcefully out of the bedroom, taking a shaky breath before screaming.

“Just go!”

Adrenaline took over, and I took off running as fast as I could. I tore through the halls, trying to block out Felix’s angry sobs, but they echoed in my head as they turned into screams that could be heard throughout the halls. My heavy breathing turned into cries of anguish and agony as I rounded the corner to the foyer. Hyunjin was waiting at the bottom of the stairs, arms open, and I ran into them, burying my face in his chest as he led me outside and onto a carriage. Thunder rumbled, and rain began to fall. I watched it dribble down the carriage window and thought about Felix. Would he remember me? Would he be conscious somewhere inside that monster for the rest of his life?

Hyunjin put a hand on mine, a sad smile crossing his cheeks as tears welled up in his eyes as well. I took his hand in my own, running my fingers over his knuckles and desperately trying to ground myself, to come back to the moment. I would see my brother again, at least. I would be home, all that was left to do would be to try and forget Felix existed. I knew it would take me my whole life to do so, but tried desperately to hold onto hope as the carriage continued into the woods.

The moon was well into the sky, Felix had to be far gone by now, and I worried about the rose. The last petal… hanging on by a thread. It was almost too much to bear. The carriage came to an abrupt halt, Hyunjin jolting awake at the rumbling and the sound of yelling. I looked out the window carefully shielding the rose from sight. It looked like people from my village, but it wasn't until my brother spoke that it solidified in my brain.

“This is from the palace alright, be careful, It could be-”

I panicked, hopping out of the carriage and facing him. His face immediately flooded with relief as he rushed to me, picking me up in his arms.

“Thank God… you're alright.”

“Of course I am, let's just go home,” I couldn't bear to sound happy to see him. I was exhausted, my eyes having shed every tear they were physically capable.

“Absolutely not. I told him I would kill him, and I'm going to make good on my word.”

I separated myself from him abruptly, a stern look in my eyes, “(B/n)… Felix isn't who the legends say he is, he isn't a monster. The reason these woods are dangerous is the wolves, or… something, he-”

My brother scoffed as he interrupted, “Don't… don't tell me you're sticking up for that monster? He kidnapped you!”

“He saved me from wolves, we were on his land! The only reason I left was because… well, I did something I wasn’t supposed to and we fought… but he needs help, (b/n), please listen to me,” I pleaded, my brother walking towards the carriage, towards Hyunjin.

“You. What are you, her guard? Making sure she gets back to her prison before morning?!”

I grabbed his arm, trying to get him away from Hyunjin as best I could, “Leave him alone, he hasn't done anything wrong!”

“Bullshit, he’s an accomplice, and I'm going to try him as such when we get him back to the village.” The bigger man shook me off his arm, sending me tumbling to the ground. Hyunjin fell to the back of the carriage, kicking at my brother and desperately trying to get him out of the carriage. I was up on my feet at the same time he finally managed to kick my brother away from him. As I stood I ran and slapped the horse drawing the carriage.

“Run! Hyunjin, protect Felix!”

“What the hell are you thinking?!” My brother exclaimed as he stood, shaking the snow off of him. I watched as the carriage rushed away, the village people getting back onto their horses to chase after it. My brother grabbed my wrist, cuffing it to one end of a chain and locking the other end to a tree.

“What are you doing?”

“I don't know what he’s done to you, or what’s come over you, but I swear I'll find and kill him!” He spoke with such a vengeance it sent shivers down my spine. I tugged at the chain hard, trying desperately to get myself loose.

“Unchain me, now, don't you touch him!”

He ignored me, stomping towards his horse and hopping into the saddle. He tossed me a small sword out of a hilt on his saddle, and was gone just as quick as he arrived, putting the helmet on as he disappeared from view.

“Get back here!”

My breath came in short jolts as my heartbeat echoed in my ears, my head felt like the blood had been drained from it and I felt woozy. I tried to still my breathing, anything to think of a plan. The trees seemed to swirl, move, vibrate around me, and I closed my eyes, holding my head in my hands. My own breathing was beginning to deafen me, I had to get out of this, I had to get to Felix before (B/N) did. If I didn't… if I lost him… the thought tore a sob from my throat as I tugged harder on the chains at my wrist. The sound of hooves rushing toward me blended in with the sound of my panicked breathing as I looked around the woods, and it wasn't until nimble fingers picked the lock on the chain and it fell to the ground that I spun around, meeting eyes with Hyunjin once again.

“Hyunjin…” I rushed him, wrapping my arms around his shoulders quickly, “We need to go, Felix is in danger!”

Hyunjin hopped onto the horse that had been towing the carriage, my assumption that it had been forgotten in the woods, along with the animated armor that controlled it, and reached for my hand. I jumped as high as I could, Hyunjin doing the rest of the heavy lifting and pulling me up to sit in front of him on the saddle and prompting the horse to run.

Once we reached the castle we could already hear yelling from inside. Hyunjin helped me to the ground, and as soon as my feet hit the cobblestone I tore up the stairs, sprinting as fast as they would carry me. The sky was beginning to lighten, in just a few minutes Felix would be a man again, we could talk about this. I just needed to reach him. I just needed to reach him. I ran through the castle, headed towards the West Wing, only to be interrupted by a roar from the attic’s trap door entrance.

I jumped and pulled the string to the door, the steps shooting out with a loud crash. I hurried up, stumbling a little, and rushing through the attic doors to the sunroom, seeing a large hole in the glass covered in blood. I panicked, rushing onto the roof so fast I almost collided with the Beast’s brown fur. I spun around him just in time to grab my brother’s hand as he nearly plummeted a sword directly into the Beast's head.

“Stop!!”

The world stood still as my brother… The one who had raised me… stared at me in disbelief. I wrestled the sword from him and turned it to point at him as the beast behind me groaned and bellowed.

“Don't… touch him…” I said between gasps of air, my lungs on fire from the running, “Don't… even think about it.”

“What the hell are you doing, (Y/N)?”

“I'm returning the favor he did me when I met him,” I spat, “Would you just give me a second to explain, (b/n), please.”

“Oh, you mean, when he met and kidnapped you? Look at him now, (Y/N), don’t you realize how much danger you’re in?”

I didn’t respond, holding my ground, near white-knuckling the hilt of the sword. (B/N) slowly stepped forward, causing Felix to snarl behind me, “If you think I’m going to just leave you with the man who took you away from me, especially when he turns into this… you’re insane. Now move.”

“Never.”

“(Y/N)-”

“If you want to kill him, you'll have to kill me too.”

His jaw clenched, teeth grinding against each other as he seemingly weighed his options before lowering his hands, “This had better be good, (Y/N).”

I let out a breath I didn't realize I was holding and turned, tossing the sword to the side, my eyes closed as I faced Felix. As they opened, the sight could have killed me right then and there. He was badly injured, bleeding from his head, and a large cut on his chest, as well as abrasions on his arm where he had obviously crashed through the glass to the sunroom. A sob left my lips.

“What did they do to you…?”

I approached slowly, hand outstretched. The beast before me quivered, snarling quietly, and then seeming to calm down. I heard footsteps bounding up the stairs, Hyunjin now holding the rose and Jeongin desperately trying to keep his tears in.

“Just wait for the sun to rise… Once it hits him, it'll all make sense, trust me.”

The beast moved slowly. I, even slower, until my hand rested on his forehead. He leaned into my touch, as if, even for just a moment, he remembered it. As if he remembered what it was like to be loved, to be known. As if he was looking through Felix’s eyes and remembered… me, who showed him kindness. Me, who patched him up after he was rude to me. Me, who took the time to dine with him and asked him questions about himself. Me, who let him let his walls down.

The sun’s bright, blinding rays finally peeked over the mountains. The last petal wobbled on its stem, about to fall. As the sun's warmth touched our faces, all of the air in my lungs released itself through my mouth. Felix hadn't changed, my hand still resting on brown fur as tears gathered in my eyes.

“No, he’s-” I whimpered, “He’s supposed to be human, it's sunrise, he…”

I turned to Hyunjin, who held the rose up. The very last petal was fluttering now, about to fall. I couldn't help but get closer, at least if he killed me I would die knowing no world without Felix. I would know no palace walls empty of his pictures, I would know no forest I met him in, nor brother who killed him. I might know peace. I took a breath and tried to get the words out before that last petal could hit the bottom of the case.

“I love you, even if you kill me here. I love you if you’re never human again. I love you if the sun doesn't come up tomorrow. I love you. I love you. I love you.”

I sobbed as I wrapped both arms around the hulking, furry shoulders of the beast before me, not bothering to hold back for the sake of my dignity, or for the sake of Felix, who I wasn't totally sure was in there. I sobbed uncontrollably as the beast went silent, the sun still steadily rising in the sky. Hyunjin and Jeongin wept from behind me as well, my brother’s sword clanking to the ground. I prepared myself for claws, for Felix to disappear and for the beast to bring me peace. But… like in the woods, the teeth never came. The snarling stopped, and suddenly the shoulders I had been leaning on disappeared. I nearly fell forward, steadying myself quickly and trying to see through the bright, white light that had replaced the hulking fur and muscle before me.

I stepped backwards slightly, trying to shield my eyes from the light as I watched it get smaller… and smaller. Panic set in, and then, indescribable relief as the light dissipated, and there floated Felix, his hair messy and his clothes tattered and bloodstained, the abrasions on his arm and cuts through his chest still present, luckily not as prominent as they were on the beast. He didn’t move as he hit the ground, his face resting as if he were just sleeping. It would be a beautiful sight were he not also covered in blood.

“Felix…” I gasped, falling to my knees in a hurry and cupping one of his cheeks in my hand, “Felix… Can you hear me?”

Nothing. I rested my head on his chest, trying to listen for a heartbeat but my own was so loud in my ears it was hard to focus on anything else. I sobbed, gathering his lifeless body into my lap and hugging his face as close to my chest as I could, rocking back and forth. At this moment, I couldn't stop myself from going right back to hating him. I hated him for showing me kindness even though I was his prisoner, for not killing me for trespassing, and for not being the monster I had always assumed he was. I hated him for his adorable stubbornness. I hated him for sharing my love of literature. I hated him for how kind his smile was, when he let it be. I hated him because I would never see the torchlight flickering in his soft brown irises again, I would never get to learn his favorite color, or favorite food.

(B/N) knelt next to me, face twisted in confusion, but also… pity, and concern. I couldn’t look at him, couldn’t hear anything he was saying. Felix’s name fell from my mouth over, and over, and over again as I pressed my face into his hair.

“Please, Felix. Not now, we were so… we were so close, Felix… Please,” I gasped, peppering kisses all over his head as I held him.

“(Y/N)...” I flinched, harshly moving Felix away from him as (B/N) reached out to touch me.

“Don’t. You. Dare,” I snarled, “You did this. I almost had it, I almost… I almost fixed it… and you ruined it! I was so close… we were so… close.”

“(Y/N), he manipulated you, he-”

“He saved me!” My vocal cords strained as I shouted, “He did what he had to to break a curse, he was grumpy, and he was standoffish, but, damn it, he was a good man, (B/N), and you murdered him!”

He was quick to his feet, seemingly about to grab at me, but before he got the chance Hyunjin stormed up to us, Jeongin close behind, grabbing (B/N) by each arm and hoisting him upwards. The two were a lot stronger than they looked. I turned back to the man in my arms as (B/N) struggled against them, yelling something my brain either could not or would not process, as the two boys dragged him away.

“You can’t… you can’t just be… gone,” I whispered as my sobs slowed and I leaned down to press my face against the prince’s, peppering kisses across his cheeks, nose, chin, and forehead, before finally lingering at his lips. It was gentle, unreciprocated, and wet with tears, but God, was it beautiful. In that moment I knew I would die thinking about how his lips felt on my own, regardless of how long from now it would be. I parted from him slowly, staring down at his face and hoping that moment would come sooner rather than later, only to be startled by his flickering eyelids.

“… Felix?”

He stirred, so lightly at first I might have missed it had I not been staring so intently at his face, then sucked in a gasp.

“Ah—“ He hissed, his hand covering the scratches on his chest, his breathing choppy and shallow as he tried to sit up, his eyes frantically searching the roof… until they landed on me. His face relaxed, eyebrows unwrinkled, his mouth fell slack, and tears came to his eyes. His hand came up to touch my face, my shoulders, chest, and arms, as if he needed to let his fingertips wander to believe I was really there.

“You… You came back?”

“Of course I came back, stupid,” I sobbed, pulling him into a hug as I cried into his shoulder. He wrapped his arms around me, hands clutching at the back of my shirt. Being in his arms… hearing his voice, it all just felt so… right. My shoulders relaxed, and I let my eyes slip closed as I enjoyed his touch, his cologne’s scent mixing with the scent of his sweat lulling me into a sense of… safety. Belonging.

I had opened my eyes for just a moment before I caught the glint of metal shining in the morning sun. I pulled Felix into my chest tightly and turned so I was above him, holding my hand out above the both of us. The pain reverberated down my entire arm as the sword hit my hand. It was dull enough that it didn't slice my hand clean off, at least, but still sharp enough that the skin of my palm tore with the impact. My brother stood on the other end of it, eyes wild with fury. Hyunjin and Jeongin lay on the ground behind him, both slowly getting up.

“Don't… touch… them…” My heart swelled at the sound of a voice I had never heard before. Jeongin stood, holding his arm as if he’d injured it, “Don't you dare.”

“(Y/N),” (B/N) all but growled at me, “I'm not going to ask you again. Move.”

“I'm not afraid of you,” My voice did not waver, and I tried not to be distracted by Hyunjin behind him, who had rolled onto his stomach and was now on his knees, holding his own shoe above his head. With a grunt, he tossed it, and it hit (B/N) directly in the back of the head. I kicked at his hands while he was distracted, quickly disarming him, picking up the sword and once again turning his own weapon on him. I swung blindly, desperately trying to put as much space between him and Felix as physically possible, unadulterated fear accompanied my anger in every slash, every step. I had to protect Felix. I had to make sure he was safe.

“(Y/N)!” Felix’s voice was wobbly as he tried to sit up, holding his chest as he spoke, “Hyunjin, stop them!”

“How many times,” I swung again, “... do I have to tell you… I won't let you hurt him!”

Hyunjin rushed me, trying to grab at the sword as best he could, but it was no use. I couldn't see anything anymore, blind rage pulsing through every vein in my body, knuckles white with the grip I had on the sword. I swung, and swung, and swung, getting closer and closer to the edge of the roof. My name bubbled up and out of Felix’s mouth once more as he forced himself onto his feet and stumbled towards me. I couldn't hear him. (B/N) held his hands up as he reached the lip of the flat roof. He tried desperately to keep his footing, but slipped on the wet surface, yelping as he went.

“Hyunjin!!”

The world stood still as a hand gripped my wrist tightly, the only sound being mine and Felix’s heavy breathing and the rain pattering against the cobblestone. Slowly, the stars in my vision dissipated, and I could finally see the scene around me. Hyunjin hanging off the roof, Jeongin rushing to help pull my brother up and onto his feet, my brother’s eyes wide with terror and confusion as he grasped at the fabric of his tunic over his heart, bloody scrapes littering his arms with one on his forehead. Finally, Felix. The look on his face could have killed me. Concern, fear, sadness, all greatly evident in his swirling brown eyes.

“F-Felix…”

“Shhhh…” Felix hushed as I dropped the sword behind me onto the cobblestone of the roof, “Easy, (Y/N)... Everything is alright. I'm alright.”

“What… What's the matter? I thought you’d jump at the chance to see me dead.” My brother spat through ragged breaths as he glared daggers at the raven-haired man beside me. I helped Felix down to the ground, mostly trying to ignore my brother's cold stare as I looked over his injuries.

“I…” Felix sighed dejectedly, his eyes turning downward, anything to avoid my brother’s, “I'm not a bad man, (B/N).”

“You're just grumpy.”

I turned to see Hyunjin, arms crossed as he walked to sit next to Felix. I couldn't help but smile, taking his hand in my own and giving it a squeeze.

“... and picky,” Jeongin added as he sat down next to us.

“... and stubborn,” I couldn't help but add, smirking a little and moving some of Felix’s raven hair out of his face as I continued to clean Felix’s wounds.

“Alright, Alright…” Felix hissed as I touched a particularly deep cut, then sighing again and looking at me, “My point is… I'm not the monster your stories made me out to be. I’ve never tried to be.”

Felix took my cheek in one of his hands then, and I paused. His eyes flickered all around my face; to my cheeks, nose, mouth, and back to my eyes again as he continued, “... I know it didn't seem like it at first, but I would never… ever intentionally hurt (Y/N), or anyone they care about.”

Had I been standing, I would have collapsed at the intensity in his words, in contrast with the gentleness of his touch. My brother sighed, his face twisting in embarrassment, doubt, as he sat down on the roof and let Hyunjin check on him. We recounted and explained everything then. The curse, the boys who lived with Felix, and the intricacies of our situation. I verbally meandered through the last week, answering his questions about it, and although he and Felix were definitely… hesitant… to get to know one another, but I couldn't bring myself to care much. Hyunjin mentioned having tea together, which my brother hastily declined. He used the excuse that the village would come looking for him and he needed to get back, but the look in his eyes told me what I needed to know. I hoped to myself that he would come around eventually as I bid him goodbye, and sent him on his way.

“What. A. Morning. Tea will be ready in ten, let’s… not have it up here.” Hyunjin chuckled as he eyed the bloodied hole in the glass, giving my shoulder a squeeze as he took Jeongin by the shoulder and took him downstairs with him. I turned back to Felix, slinging his arm around my shoulders and helping him up. Once he was stable on his feet, I started to walk him toward the door, but he stepped in front of me, hands cupping both of my cheeks.

“(Y/N).” his voice came out in a near-desperate whisper even though we had been left alone on the roof, his eyes bore intensely into my own. My heart lurched into my throat, and I desperately willed my cheeks to cool under his stare.

“Felix…”

Not one more word was said. Felix pulled my face closer to his own, plump lips pressing against mine. I didn’t have any more hesitation in me, I eagerly returned his movements like my life depended on it, my hands wrapping around his bare waist to rest on his back. As the world faded away around us I couldn’t help but relax into him, sighing against his lips with a whimper.

His breath came in shaky pants as he pressed his lips against my own once, twice more, then pulled away. Our eyes met, our cheeks the color of newly sprouted poppies in the Springtime. He chuckled, and I couldn’t help the giggle that made its way up my throat either. It felt like there was a bubble in my chest that I could only burst by laughing, or screaming, or kissing him again. I chose the former of the three, and I kissed him until my lips hurt. I kissed him until my lungs burned from the lack of air. I kissed him until the scent of him made my knees weak, and my entire body shook. I kissed him until I felt my cheeks would explode. We were a mess by the time we finally pulled away from each other, hot breath fanning across my cheeks that only made him want him more. I held back… for now.

“(Y/N)...” He rested his forehead against my own, “I… I love you.”

“I love you, too,” I said almost immediately, “I love you more than flowers love the sun.”

“Alright, alright,” He chuckled, “Let's get down there.”

The castle was bustling this morning, I could hear it outside the door of the bedroom. I tried to close my eyes, to get a little bit more sleep. Of course, I would have no such luck. I gave up, turning to wrap an arm around the person who was supposed to be next to me, but finding nothing but a large, empty bed. I groaned, and heard a chuckle from the fireplace.

“Over here, my love.”

I yawned as I sat up, throwing my legs over the side of the bed and sleepily stumbling over to where Felix sat, wrapping my arms around his shoulders. He kissed my hand, smiling into his book.

“Couldn't sleep?” I mumbled. Felix let out a sigh, closing his book.

“... You're sure we can't cancel tonight?”

I chuckled, coming around the chair to sit on his lap, putting his book onto the table (Saving his place first, I wasn't a monster), and holding his head to my chest, fingers in his hair.

“No, we can't cancel. It's going to be okay, love. Everyone is going to love you, and besides, if they don't, we’re all the way out here!” I kissed the top of his head, and he chuckled a little at me.

“If you say so,” He said as he separated from my chest, smiling up at me. I craned my neck down and pecked him on the lips, sighing as I stood.

“I don't just say so, I know so,” I shot him a wink as I walked to the closet, taking a good look at all of my clothes and beginning to decide what to wear.

Spring and the first month of Summer had gone by like lightning, and now we were in the middle of July. The cicadas sang outside our bedroom windows, the lamplights of the newly-built path to the village slowly turning off one by one with the rising sun. The brilliant pinks and purples told me it was going to rain later, and I couldn't help but get a little excited about the coming showers. As I danced to myself in the mirror, holding two of my fanciest articles of clothing to my face, three quick bangs on the door interrupted my thoughts, and before I could say, ‘Come in,’ Hyunjin all but burst through the door, a smile on his face.

“Good morning, Felix, and good morning, my sunshine!! Todays the day!” He sang, immediately coming up to me and looking over the options I had chosen for my outfit tonight.

“We know today’s the day, Hyunjin, don't be so loud,” Jeongin smirked and rolled his eyes as he approached Felix, the two having quiet conversations about the Summer ball being held at our castle tonight.

Our castle. I loved the sound of that.

Felix came to give me a final kiss as Jeongin took him to a separate dressing room to get ready. Hyunjin finally picked out some clothes for me and opened the screen, standing on the opposite side from me.

“Are you excited, sunshine?”

“Very. Do you think I'll be able to convince Felix to dance?” I half-joked. Hyunjin sighed.

“I hope so. If anyone can, it's you.”

I came around the screen and Hyunjin gave me an audible gasp, “Drop. Dead. You look absolutely amazing.”

“Thank you so very much,” I smiled, and he opened his arms for a hug, which I happily gave him, “What on earth would I do without you?”

“No, no…” Hyunjin pulled apart from me, holding me arms distance away and giving me quite possibly the kindest, gentlest smile he had given me since I met him, “What would I do without you?”

“Die, probably,” I teased, and he laughed, pulling me in again.

The evening went by without a hitch. My brother even showed, although did avoid Felix, and in turn, me, for the better half of the evening. The people of the village were happy here, dancing and laughing and drinking. Felix was only nervous the first hour or so, eventually relenting to my pleas to dance with a nervous smile. As he spun me around the dance floor, all else around us disappeared, and as I stared into his smiling eyes, I knew this was where I was meant to be. I was meant to be in the woods that day all that time ago. I was meant to be in Felix’s arms, I was meant to be in his castle, and sharing in his life. I was meant to love him, just as he was meant to love me.

I had never been so sure of anything in my entire life.

[iwanty0uu]

MAD SCIENTIST X FRANKENSTEIN CONNY

warnings: nsfw-nacrophilia (being frank -no pun intended- he’s literally frankenstein..and frankenstein is a walking corpse so i’ll see you in the next fic if you don't like this series!)

I

Sparks of electricity went flying throughout the chambers of your laboratory, hidden in the mountains of Transylvania, sparks and plugs were connected to the cool metal table that contrasted to your warm, brown skin. Who would’ve thought a girl as soft and plump as you could possibly have mad and deranged tendencies. 

The night was too fresh and quiet which birthed an eerie feeling, which held hands with the thick fog that was all around knew something was bound to happen. Luckily, were used to this cemetery, because you thought that cemetery walks were best at night especially alone with nothing but a shovel in hand and cherry bubble gum in the other.It’s wrapper fell to the ground, scent still lingering as your brown,polished red fingers grabbed the shovel with precision and aimed straight for the mound of dirt that sat before you, almost twice your size.And without a thought, you heaved up as much dirt as your body could carry,  your once white lab coat was now stained brown, and sweat spilled over your knitted brows, threatening to fall into your eyes, your abandoned blood red heels laid beside you, almost giving you the companionship that you begged for, feet only covered by the thin material of your lace pantyhose. Being alone didn’t mean you weren’t allowed to wear lingerie under your laboratory coat..What felt like hours passed by before dirt no longer allowed itself to pour into the metal shovel, and you were met with a clank instead. The sound alarmed you, and the crows above your head watching in curiosity were sent into a flying frenzy, flocking to nowhere and everywhere all at once. Their crows and thunderous wings almost dimmed the sound of the shovel which met the ground with a thud, and a sigh from the scientist to match.

She wipped her hands into her coat,the only thing that provided her warmth at this hour and she fell to her knees.Her dark brown tresses fell to her shoulders, framing her face as her dove eyes interlocked with those that were shut behind the glass of the casket. One wrong hit from the shovel would’ve caused damage to his beautiful resting face, and even more beautiful home. His casket was trimmed with dark purple velvet strands and the glass that revealed his face, or what it once was, happened to be encased by black cedar wood. Her hands ran itself against the smooth but strangely warm material, she pushed her glasses up in pity for the young man who slept eternally too soon,and sounded out the letters that formed themselves underneath her fingertips, the moon refusing to share enough light to see.. “C..o…n..s..t..ance?” She questioned, brows coming together, almost as if they were agreeing with the thoughts in her head. “What a feminine name for such a handsome young man”.. As she angled her head to the left, the moon gifted her with a sliver of light, just enough to read the last name. 

“R. Springer” she breathed out effortlessly, the name rolling off of her tongue as if it was engraved there. “Constance..con-Conny! That’s what I’ll call you my handsome boy..” The smile that grew on her black lined lips was bright enough to convince a blind man that the sun had risen, the blood flushed through her body as her face and hands warmed up, adrenaline giving her the strength of about ten men which allowed her to lift of the casket with ease, and roll it to her wo-mansion on her remote controlled cart that she had created to levy the bodies of men that never made it past the security system, guarded by wolves, and other various poisons and plants. She couldn’t have been more thankful for their intrusions in this moment though, because their hearts would be the reason her beloved would have a new one..

[rise-my-angel]

Heart of the Great Wolf

56 - Wolves Teeth and Claws

Pairing: Jon Snow x F!Baratheon!Reader, Robb Stark x F!Baratheon!Reader (Past)

Length: 16.5k

Warnings: angst/hurt comfort, character death, blood and disturbing imagery, past traumas and loss, unspecified mental illness/duress, hints of suicidal ideation

Notes: I know the smut has been in a bit of a drought but I promise we're nearing the end of it, just trust me that it has been gone this long for a reason. Previous Chapter Here, Series Masterlist Here

Looking back to the moment everything changed was easier then she would once have thought. Her life so different now, and truly had been for five years, but there were two which stood out. One she preferred not to think of, the memory of watching it followed by the nothing as the utter horror and devastation screaming through her veins forced her to collapse unconscious. If she thought about it too much, she'd feel that ill rising up in her throat and she scarcely wished to think about it anymore.

The other was as much a shocking death as the previous, but the way it changed her life was unusual in contrast to the previous. Much of that day felt a blur by now, much of being forced to endure the normal torment inflicted by the King as for once she was not the immediate target, but now had to sit and watch the torment be endured by, well it was odd to think of him as her husband now, but then she had become used to it in a strange way. Now though, they hadn't spoken nor known the others whereabouts since that moment.

She could hear it so clearly in the silence, the coughing beginning to rise before in a scared panic did Margaery Tyrell shout out to the onlookers, “He's choking,”

Lady Olenna had yelled for them to help the poor boy, before Joffery had dropped the goblet to the ground grasping at his throat, stumbling down into the clearing as he made a strangled wheezing, and then did the woman stand up with an even louder shout of demand.

“Idiots, help your King.”

Sansa had been standing in a sort of shock watching it play out so suddenly when she felt a figure approach her subtly from behind, a voice somewhat familiar in her distant mind telling her, “Come with me.” But she didn't yet move. Joffery had collapsed to the ground almost vomiting up blood in a truly horrible sound as Cersei had run to his side desperately yelling his name in distress. In the back of her head as the voice spoke again, she begun to recognize it as Ser Dontos. “If you want to leave, we have to leave.”

The shock almost split between two sides, one whom understood what he was offering and yearned to turn to go with him but the other froze her feet and eyes to that spot unable to stop watching. Choking horribly as even from where she stood she could see Jofferys skin turn purple, his hand reached out as the crowed turned to look. Picking up the very goblet he dropped in a confused shock of his own was her husband, Tyrion Lannister, before attention drew back to the King just as he stopped moving.

Tears came from Cersei holding her now dead son, before something kicked Sansas senses wake just as Cersei turned to look at Tyrion. Saying that he had done this, he murdered her son. Screaming furiously to the guards to take him and suddenly Sansa felt herself moving backwards.

Just enough that it seemed to indicate to Ser Dontos it was time, grabbing her by both arms he dragged her away before taking her hand as they begun to run from the scene as more yelling by Cersei and then Lord Tywin increased in the background. Giving her a cloak to throw around her to hide what of her appearance she could, Ser Dontos urgently led her through the empty streets of the city as bells begun to toll in the distance. One street then the next, over the rocks and down cut to a set of stairs leading to the water with just a small boat as he told her to get in.

Asking where they were going, Ser Dontos only told her, “Somewhere safe.”

Sansa had turned to look up to the city that had kept her there for over three years and in a sudden moment did she wonder, was this how you felt? Fleeing from the city with your only chance of survival, did you turn to look before leaving for good? Wondering if it was the right choice? Leaving behind who you'd be forced too? She had never once blamed you for leaving, she had watched Joffery order her father beheaded, she was smart enough to know if you had not ran, she'd have watched the same fate fall to you.

But, Sansa didn't think as long as she suspected you did. You were forced to leave three Starks behind but who was she leaving behind? There were people who were kind to her of course. Margaery tried her best to ensure she felt as if she had support and a friend, she cared deeply about her handmaiden Shae who always tried to protect her, and she was now leaving behind Tyrion whom she never before thought she'd care about leaving behind. They were forced into a marriage together, but he had shown her a compassion she didn't expect.

Trying to ensure her this marriage wasn't because he asked for it, and that while he didn't really know how she felt, she didn't know how he felt and in that way they were on a similar level. Even before having to finally walk out of her chambers and make her way to the sept he tried and even succeeded to make her laugh to ease the clear nerves in her. How the dread within her filled as Joffery had begun yelling about the bedding ceremony before it all came to a halt as through his rather drunk state, Tyrion had threatened him in front of the crowd for demanding it. He was still clearly drunk as they stood in his chambers alone, but as nervous as she was, he was just as uncomfortable considering both her age and unwillingness to lay with him.

Saying he would not share her bed until she wished for him to do so, and even a promise that he'd never force her if she never wanted to share it. It was not a marriage either expected nor wanted but after that it got easier to handle. Through the pain of deaths which came next it still was a bit easier, but standing at the boat that afternoon Sansa had realized why you made your choice.

The opportunity was right in her face, if she didn't take it, she may never leave Kings Landing again, or alive. So she got in, and the new chapter of her life had begun. A new name, a new identity, a new family and home. Petyr Baelish had come through on his promise to help her escape Kings Landing, but in turn Sansa knew the second she walked through the Bloody Gate, she was no longer herself.

Hiding her away in the Vale, she was thusly given the name Alyane Stone. Posing as Petyr's bastard daughter, which was nowhere near ideal but it was the only option she had. And in such a short time there, too much had happened which tested her ability to keep up with this new ruse, and it was a test she realized, she had passed.

She and her cousin Robin had gotten into a childish fight, and Sansa had reacted as rotten as he did by slapping the boy. Petyr had come to her as Robin ran away, and if it was Petyrs kiss she thought she did not know how to react to, she was wrong. Her Aunt Lysa had confronted her about it. Something Sansa never asked or wished to happen, and her Aunt Lysa dragged her to hang over the open moondoor yelling such horrible things. And before her eyes, Petyr had convinced her to let her go, and thusly pushed Lysa out of the moondoor himself.

The Lords and Ladies of the Vale had questioned him about what happened, and she was too brought to answer for being a witness. She did not know what he told them, but despite everything, he had kept her safe. Even from her own aunt, he kept her safe. What would he tell them? What story would a man like him spin? It was a blind guess what he would say, and she took it. But Sansa too had one last trick, because even though he kept her safe, his kiss in the courtyard told her that she might never be able to truly trust him. So, she looked to Ser Yohn Royce, whom knew her father, and revealed who she was. In tears not even now did she know were real, she managed to sell the lie Petyr wanted, all the while placed herself in a position where the others too would have reason to want to protect her. Not having to rely on him alone.

And so it all begun. She was Alyane Stone from that moment on, playing her part.

She knew the plan, what to do, how to act, what to say and prepared for the plan he told her of. Until the day he called her into his study, and a new truth was revealed. The things he had been keeping from her was to not overwhelm her as he put proper plans into place, but things had changed he said. Something of an opportunity had arisen, and he could bring her home. Take her safely to Winterfell, where her long passed brothers crown awaited it's proper heir. And with Petyrs help and connection to the Vale, she had more then just the remains of a Northern army at her aid should need be.

But she was so far removed from her previous life, that Sansa had not questioned certain things which in retrospective, she wished she would have before leaving.

Once more she was asked to return to being Sansa Stark, but it had been two years. Alyane was who she was, but now she had to go back to Sansa. But Sansa had not been anywhere near home or family in five years. What was she to expect getting there? Petyr assured her it would be a big day for the North, returning her there. So in that journey, slowly letting the dark coloured dye in her hair finally wash away to the colour which so vividly reminded her of her mother, she grappled with what her life could be being home again.

She never thought she'd see Winterfell again, but he had told her what she thought was the truth. With Robb dead, with you dead, and no son nor heir between you both alive, nor her brothers or sister alive either, she was not only her fathers lawful heir, but Robb’s too. The only trueborn left, he assured the North was hers by right. That wasn't what Sansa had preyed for in the night when thinking of home, but this was the way in which would get her there, so she would take it, and embrace it. The idea of being Queen sounded far better then the two years she had spent posing as nothing but a bastard.

As she laid eyes on her once home, it looked..different. The same, yet different. Parts of it still in ruin, many places once burned down but now being rebuilt. Did it's insides look the same? Was her room still there? So many questions she had with wide eyes looking out of the carriage's translucent window at her home. There were nerves in her like a girl, but also excitement all the same. She knew what to expect, and what to do, Petyr had prepared her for it.

But the guards seemed apprehensive about her presence even when assured it was indeed her, and then they had told them to wait. That before allowing them in, that Lady Stark needed to be informed of their arrival. But her mother was dead. You were dead. Arya was dead. It baffled her who that could mean if not her mother or sisters. She was welcomed home, Petyr told her. They awaited her with Robbs crown he said. So why was the air so fraught with tension?

Then the gates opened, and a crowd had gathered within the courtyard. And three figures stood in the middle to receive them, and suddenly Sansa realized that the truth Petyr told her was not going to play out quite the way he promised it would.

Because Arya was alive, but looked not a single bit happy to see her.

She had prepared for it. What was coming, and what to do. The days before did the council and trusted allies gather in the quiet of a study to discuss what options there were, and to answer the unknown question of intent. What did both parties arriving seek? But Arya had less and less faith that they were arriving with good intentions the more Selyse spoke of what she knew about Littlefinger.

Her brows narrowed with a disdain in her tone as she spoke, “Stannis had to outlaw all forms of prostitution on Dragonstone just to get his spies out of watching his actions.” When questioning gaze arose, she clarified further. “The only person on the small council he knew he could not manipulate was him, knowing were Stannis to take the Iron Throne, Lord Baelish’s head would be on a spike before the night was out. My husband knew not for a moment to trust anything he claims to your face.”

Maege Mormont leaning with her palms braced against the table with her jaw clenched, muttering through her teeth. “Anyone else feel it is a mighty coincidence that the time he finally chooses to come all the way up here, also lines up to where our King and Queen have been gone for months?”

Narrowing his eyes, Theon stood with his arms crossed next to Arya. “You think he would try to take advantage of their absence?”

Eyes somewhat turned more to Selyse, knowing out of them all she was the closest any had to true eyes on what he was like between Stannis and your encounters. “He does not have any claim in the North, but if one who does comes with him on her side, then it would not be unlike how he found control of the Vale. By marrying Jon Arryn's widow, following her death, he becomes the acting Lord of the Vale in practice if not by name.”

Arya felt that feeling arise once more. This wasn't fair, it wasn't right. She did not leave Kings Landing wishing to leave Sansa behind, she had even told Jaqen that she could not yet go to Bravvos with him because on top of you, her mother and brother, Arya needed to find Sansa too. But this was not the way she wanted her older sister to return home.

Would their word enough be convincing to her? Because the truth was right there in Aryas face, she was not a fool in what way it could look. One on hand, Sansa may come home and learning that Jon rules as Robbs successor, she could see that in the eyes of how the Iron Throne would consider such a thing. Little more then a false King, a usurper. But on the other hand, the way those around Arya like Maege Mormont, like Galbert Glover, others who were standing in place of the Lord that did sign off like Smalljon Umber too, they had all agreed and signed off as witnesses that Robb Stark’s decree of inheritance and succession was solid and unanimously approved of.

But they did not have to listen. Robb was dead, you were not a Northerner and since you had not given birth to Robb's heir, your ties to the North could have stopped then and there. They could have ignored your words, your plight and much like how Cersei Lannister refused to honour her dead Kings words, so the North could Robbs. Smalljon Umber had described the day they crowned him to her months previous.

Jon had accepted it much like Robb apparently. Neither said anything, not a yes or no to the words of the Lords around them putting up their support for such a claim. Brothers both, the North had understood their silence and the responsibility of such a weight could be handled. But even moreso then Robb, it was Jon who arguably they would fight for harder, because this time, the war they fought was nothing like the other and only Jon knew it. No one in the North ever had to defend the position of Stark King to their fellow Northmen, but they knew fighting for a Stark Blooded King named Snow would be an inevitable should someone decide he has no right.

They had chosen Robb as the first King in the North since Torrhen Stark, and he led them as their own independent people in a war to free themselves from the yoke of the south. When they crowned him, you as his wife already, was crowned Queen. And from everything Arya understood, you were seen differently as a Queen then many others. Cersei only had her power once Robert was gone, Margaery Tyrell was not a Queen with her own power over the people at King Tommen's side. Even in front of her, Selyse was a Queen at Stannis Baratheon's side but she held little sway in her husbands actions.

As Arya stood as Lady of Winterfell in place of Jon title of King, Selyse was there in place of you only as something like Queen Mother. You had the respect of the North when you were at Robbs side as if you were his equal when your own crowning was only complimentary to the crowning they truly chose in Robb.

But they kept looking to you as Queen even when Robb was gone, it was why the Boltons needed you. The North still respected you as Queen, had Jon refused, they still would have looked to you. And that day, they looked to you as you looked to Jon and Arya knew that it was not honouring law alone that they chose Jon. Robbs will was what convinced Jon to accept this title, but it was the people still who decided for themselves.

You had died and returned to life, Jon had died and you returned him to life and now you both were out there alone to protect the North from a war which would come for everyone should nothing be done about it. Jon had found allies to the North, and he had come from far less privilege then even his own brother. The North would not back down on him now, Arya was certain of it.

Which meant she could not back down either. “If they are coming now beacuse he knows Jon isn't here to stand up for himself, that means we cannot give Littlefinger any reason to think he could sway our opinion. As soon as he finds what he thinks is a weakness, he'll exploit it.”

Someone speaking up to ask about Sansa, and Arya knew she had to stand firm in her choice the way Jon would, the way Robb or their father would. She could still hear her fathers voice.

“Now winter is truly coming. And in the winter, we must protect ourselves, look after one another. Sansa is your sister. We cannot fight a war amongst ourselves.”

Arya didn’t want to fight Sansa on their own family, but she would do what needs to be done to protect the family she returned to Westeros for. She had sat in the inn seeing Hot Pie doing well after all these years, recalling how instantly she called him a liar the moment he said Jon was King in the North. The way which he instantly came back asking why he’d make such a thing up. The way you were dragged before that thing pretending to be her mother and defended with your life at risk, Jons right to hold such a title.

She couldn’t allow that all to be taken away from him now. To return and think everyone had turned their backs on him the moment his sister came home. She wouldn’t allow Sansa to use how much she looked down on Jon for being a bastard to her advantage, not now. So a plan was made, and all they could do from that point on was wait. Only a matter of days before she would arrive. Sansa was welcome in her home, but Littlefinger and his weasely tricks were not.

As the room cleared, Selyse had stopped the silent Gendry, mostly there for Arya’s sake. Turning partway to her saying she needed a word with him in private. Waiting now outside the room, she wracked her brain trying to think what issue needed to be said between the two of them of all people.

By the time he emerged, as they walked down the halls both knew he could sense her questioning stare. Not even looking at her as he asked, “Are you waiting for something?”

Prompting him with a further look she knew he was pretending not to see, Arya now alone felt no shame in pestering him. “What was that about?” Gendry only replies dryly that it was private, an emphasis on what they both heard Selyse say. But Arya narrowed her gaze. “So it’s something so private you can’t tell me about but can talk about it to her?” It was not an offence towards her, but an oddity she did not grasp.

Your name came out of his mouth with an ease, “Maybe it was about her. She’s her mother afterall.”

Arya snapped out with as much quick dryness as he normally could deliver to her. “You have a mysterious friendship with her you won’t tell me about, and now you have a secret, what? Kinship with her mother you won’t tell me about?” His lack of response only made her more annoyed and they both knew it was intentional. “You know I’m in charge right? Which means you shouldn’t be keeping secrets from the person in charge.”

Gendry though was not deterred and once again, Arya knew it was to pester her right back. “So what outranks what? The King in the North’s little sister or the Queen in the North’s mother? Queen sounds like it should outrank Lady of Winterfell.” The smirk across his face when her own fell in annoyance. Multiple times a week she’d tell him to stop calling her that, most people around her addressed her by her name anyways, which is what she repeated then and there. “To other highborns, maybe. How many servants and maids around here don’t call you milady?”

Her glare spoke the answer they both knew and once more she dropped the issue before she shoved him into the wall and walked off. But Gendry pulled the discussion back to the matter at hand bothering her most. “Do you really think your sister is going to try and claim the North for herself?”

“If she’s coming with Littlefinger, then yes. He wouldn’t travel a thousand miles just to deliver her to the gate and then leave.” Your name leaving her mouth again, “He tried to have her killed so she’d be out of his way. He betrayed her and my father in Kings Landing. Tricked my mother into betraying Robb. Sansa is only his newest way to try and destroy my family from the inside all over again.”

But by the time night would come, Arya sat in her chambers once more at her desk. Pulling out a small journal, ready to be opened right near the middle as she added another line to the already filled out two pages. Not needing to even count, she already knew the number as she muttered it aloud to the quiet room in a defeated tone. “One hundred and ninety four.”

That was how many days Jon and you were gone. She tried not to let it bother her, knowing six moons had passed now and Jon had told her he didn’t know when they were coming back. Arya was fairly certain you did not know she was aware you left already pregnant, but how far would that make you? Eight moons? Nine? Would the baby inside you even survive a journey like that?

It was a horrible feeling, that you may one day return with nothing in your arms. Jon would blame himself, for bringing you out there in the first place. But he had no choice, he assured her he had no choice and this was what needed to be done. But the closer she crept up on ticking away two hundred days, the worse she felt about it all. With you both out there, that made four members of her family lost to the far North. Six if she included Ghost and Summer. Seven if she included what was supposed to be her niece or nephew. All for the coming winter storms.

Why did the cost have to be her family? So much of her family when already too much was gone as it was? How was Arya supposed to hold Jons position forever when he deserved it, when she wanted him to come back and have it once more?

Two more days had passed when finally through Nymeria’s eyes did she see them. Her own direwolf leading a pack of her own around the North as if protecting it while the King in the North could not, she saw them. They had yet to reunite together, but Nymeria and Arya still were connected, and they both still protected the ones and places she loved. It would be within the hour she’d arrive at the gates. And Arya went to Selyse, went to Theon, and then as the men all converged on the courtyard for the worst, and the three of them descended out into the cold. Selyse was as stern as she’d ever seen the woman but reminded Arya so much of you.

Theon was nearly unreadable, he was most often these days now. But he stood tall beside Arya in the home he once ruined, now here to defend it with her if need be. Arya stood in the middle between them in the clearing as the gates opened and in came a carriage, and a group of men on horseback, likely guards.

Then he emerged first. No words in the cold air was spoken as he then reached in to assist the other to climb out. The last she had seen of her sister was as she collapsed to the ground after their Illyn Payne took their fathers head, but this was not at all the sister she saw screaming and crying desperately for them to stop.

She was taller then Arya remembered, and even more beautiful as she’d grown into a woman. Her hair still long and an orange tinted red, even moreso then their mother, the rest of her distinguished and developed in a way Arya knew she wasn’t. That was the first thing that came out of Jons mouth when they reunited, only a joke of asking how after all this time was she still so small. Her clothes though, blacks and greys as her cloak matched that of Littlefingers as they came to stand beside one another.

She certainly looked like Sansa, but in another way, it was as if Arya was looking at a complete stranger. A stranger, who looked shocked and confused to see her. “Arya?” Nothing, she said and did nothing yet. Letting Sansa find the greeting on her own. “I thought you were-”

But something impulsive spoke, interrupting Sansa with a shortness. “Well, I’m not.”

Sansa almost looked confused, as if seeing her sister again not being filled with a happiness was something foreign to her. But there was a whirlwind of feelings as the two sisters looked at one another. Arya wanted to be happy, wanted to go to the sister she hadn’t seen in years and hug. But she wasn’t, and she didn’t. Sansa at the least, picked up on it, and the very quiet courtyard of people around as she took a step forward, which Arya matched.

“What’s he doing here?” Eyes flickering to the curiously watching Littlefinger, Sansa followed the glance and then back as he begun to speak. Only for Arya to cut in but with far less patience. “I asked my sister, not you.” The weasel of a man did not look deterred but with a curiosity she hated. Peeling her gaze back to the much more apprehensive Sansa, Arya asked once more. “What is he doing here?”

Her brows furrowing, Sansa struggled it looked, to keep up with the tension. “He brought me here, he’s helping me.”

“The way he helped father?” Arya’s darkening eyes finally met his narrowing ones. If he thought she was just a girl who was in over her head, he was wrong. She never trusted him, and now she trusted him even less. Sansa tried saying she didn’t know what she was talking about. “Don’t you?”

Selyse tried to even the rising tension out, glancing between both girls with a calm, lower tone. “I believe we are getting into matters best discussed inside.” Sansa asked who she was and Arya once again looked even more suspiciously at her when she seemed again, confused by the answer as your name came from her mouth. “She is my daughter.”

Taking control once more, Arya did not allow more questions. “She’s right.” Softening just the smallest bit, hoping Sansa could pick up on it. “You’re home now, you should get settled in before we do this.” Sansa first turned to Littlefinger, and it was his nod that had them both move forward before all attitude returned. “Not him. Winterfell is my sisters home, not yours.”

His voice was exactly as she remembered, and it angered her just as much. Feigning ignorance when they both knew why Arya did not want him near. “The castle too crowded?”

Selyse was the one who offered it, the even third party between them all it felt. “Perhaps it would be wise, my lord, if you allowed the girls their privacy after so many years. There is an inn on the edge of Winter Town I’m sure would be happy to house such a well paying guest.”

The man could at least read the tension in the air. Backing off with a smile she could not trust, but seemed to fool Sansa. “Of course, who am I to get in the way of a happy family reunion?” Sansa turned quickly to look at him, but whatever look he gave her seemed to be of a bit of comfort. “We’ll speak later. Get used to being home first.”

Arya barley glanced to the side, which was enough of a command for Theon to turn to guards under his command. “Lads, escort Lord Baelish into Winter Town. See to it he and his men get to an inn without issue.” Or delay both thought. Of course, the men were under instruction to then stay there, to not let a man like him wander her home on his own, but he could find out that in his own time.

For now, as the nerves eased in the courtyard, Arya rose an eyebrow to Sansa. “I assume you still remember where everything is.”

“Hopefully.” Sansa’s light tone should have been funny, and again Arya thought, they should have hugged. But they didn’t, and neither sister made a move to do anything even close to that.

Most of the crowd was gone when the small few of a group remained as the rest continued about their duties in the grounds. The scoffing sound of Maege filled the air as she came up beside Selyse, gesturing her head tilt towards the woman with your name. “And I thought her reunion with her father was the most loveless thing I’ve ever seen. Made those two look downright affectionate.” Selyse managed to muster part of a laugh in agreement.

Arya though, she looked over to Theon whose expression as a doubtful as her own. His voice low speaking mostly to her alone. “Would be a bad look to have guards following her around. I think that’s more of the duty for someone smaller. Quicker.”

A small smirk finally peeked onto her face. “Stealthier?”

His own grin finally came through to match. “Exactly.” He was not wrong, everyone had their instructions and now was not the time to let it all fall apart. Turning to go inside though, Arya did notice it was odd that for once where he’d be seen working away by the armoury, Gendry was absolutely nowhere to be seen.

In her own way, she shouldn’t have been shocked that she ended up where she did. Most of them it seemed gravitated to the crypts once they were once again within Winterfell. The pull to family lost after so many years all spent apart, the morbid wonder of who was there, and more importantly they wondered, which ones of them weren’t.

For Arya, she knew her sister likely wondered if there would be four of them, but in truth there was only half that and only one statue when there should’ve been two. Seeing her standing still in the distance, her expression was unreadable. Only the two of them had been there that day, and it haunted them both but how much did that matter in the now, Arya didn’t know. Their father would’ve wanted them to come together again, nor did Arya wish to do this in front of him, but they were alone down here.

Sansa no doubt heard her approaching footsteps, but did not turn to look her way. Allowing Arya to come within a few feet as they both stood near one another facing the statue of their father. The crackle of fire the only sound within the vicinity, until her voice spoke out finally in a solemn sort of quiet. “It doesn’t really look like him.”

Arya’s gaze didn’t move, staying on the statue. “I think it does. Whenever he was serious, he always looked stern like that.” Neither sister said anything for a moment, but he knew thoughts were brewing in the head beside her.

When speaking them outloud, she dared not interrupt this part. She let it be about family first, allow her sister to take in the grief as she had when coming down here. “Bran and Robb aren’t here.”

Short Arya’s tone was. “No.” Asking why not, she pushed down that strangling darkness in her throat which she last felt. Seeing you again, the finality knowing Robb would never be brought home and how both refused to let the other go until that pain had come down from something so overwhelming of the matter. Instead, she chose the route of less pain in her heart. “Because Bran isn’t dead.”

From the corner of her eye she could see Sansa turning wide eyed to face her, but Arya once more did not turn away. “Bran’s alive?” Only a slow nod, her jaw a little more clenched as she continued to force herself together. “What happened-”

Cutting her off, she put the details as concise as she could manage. “Bran and Rickon ran away, and Theon never found them. So he had one of his men kill two orphan boys, and burn the bodies so people thought he caught and killed them.” She could her the trailing start of Sansa finding a defence, and yet Arya did what you had done for many months on your own. “Leave it, Sansa. Theon paid for what he did but he never killed them. Never wanted to hurt them. He killed Ser Rodrick because he thought he had to, but he knew Bran and Rickon their whole lives. He’d never actually hurt them on purpose.”

But the weight was heavy between them, and Arya braced herself to tell her sister what had hurt terribly when Jon told her. Sansa’s voice was little more then a held back whisper. “What happened to Rickon?”

Jaw clenched, she felt herself tensing her hands at her sides trying not to let that feeling overwhelm her, and in such a prospect she knew she was leaving details out. If not to pile too much on at once, then to prevent herself from trying to imagine it too much. “The Boltons found him and killed him. I don’t know much about it, Jon saw it happen. Not me.”

Aryas eyes however, did peel to the side to watch her sister now, but she gave nothing away while the topic was still on Rickon. “When was this?” Arya answering that it was around a year ago, but that again she was not there when it happened. Sansa it seemed though, switched to something else rather then address what was going unsaid. “What happened to you, where did you go?”

Turning to face one another, Arya inhaled with her eyes narrowing. As if to figure out once more what details she deserved. Once more, she kept it rather simple. “I was on the run, the whole war and even after, I was out there. Just trying to survive. But then I had no one left, and no way to get to Castle Black on my own, so I left.” Sansa asked to where, and her answer seemed to confuse her. “To Bravvos. I had met someone who was from there, I thought he could help me.”

“Did he?”

Arya didn’t answer. She still did not know that answer. Did seeking out the House of Black and White help her? Or did it make her worse, did it push away what she was trying to hold onto, to a point she still was seeking parts of herself.

Vividly she could recall that evening. Carefully folding away all of her things, and dropping it into the water. But then she stood there. Holding Needle in both hands and every time her fingers asked to open, she clutched it harder as the tears welled up behind her eyes even more. It was all she had left, it was the one thing that was hers and always had been. It was home, but more importantly, it was her brother.

She stood there on the dock, and she could see Jons smile and the feeling as if she’d be a monster came over her should she throw it into the water too. So she buried it. Hid it. And every single night Arya would think of going to seek it out but didn’t, because until she thought becoming Arya Stark once more was safe, she could not cease being nothing but a girl.

But she did leave. She did return home, and brought Needle with her because it was Jon she was coming home for, and Needle was just as much part of her as her memories of her brother was.

Just as her name left Sansa’s mouth, did Arya interrupt now pivoting to face her. “Why did you come here?” Whatever excuse left her mouth came off too much as deflection and Arya stepped closer looking up with much more distrust. “Jons held Winterfell for well over a year, it’s been safe to come home for over a year. Why only come now? Why did you bring him?”

“I told you he was helping me-”

Arya couldn’t help the way her voice raised. “The way he helped father before betraying him?” Sansa claimed almost defensively that he had no choice but it only caused Arya to come off with an even stronger anger. “No choice but to help send out father to his death?”

Sansa rose her voice as well. “Petyr didn’t do that, Joffery did-”

Arya only yelled louder then her. “Because he set father up, he put everything into place for Joffery to kill him. He betrayed him, betrayed our mother, he betrayed Robb,” Finishing as well that he too, had betrayed you as well but Sansa's face twisted into a frown as she turned away. But Arya only moved to follow, forcing her to meet her eyes once more. “How could you ever think he has the right to be here? In our home? What did he tell you?”

Only this time it was Sansa’s turn to switch her own tactics. “You said Jons held Winterfell. He isn’t here.” Arya didn’t say anything, she waited for her sister to get to the point without talking around it. “He’s in the Nights Watch, he can’t just leave to take back a castle.” Arya only said shortly that he did, and pushed her further and further into getting to the root of her point. “Was he only holding it until one of us came back?”

Arya could feel it, what was coming. Despite the beg for it not to, she braced herself regardless as she was honest. “Until I showed up one day, Jon thought I was dead. He didn’t know if Bran was ever coming back, no one knew what happened to you, and Rickon was dead.” But Sansa she realized, picked up on the way she phrased that.

She was very calm as she said it, but with something hiding a confidence she was sure in. “If he thought Bran and I were alive, and then you showed up alive..he was holding it until one of us could come back.” Say it Arya thought, just say what she really came back for. “Robb didn’t have any children when they killed him.”

“No.”

If Sansa picked up on the tight and rigidness of Aryas tone, she said nothing of it as she put it forth as matter of fact as she could. “Which means his crown passes down to us. His oldest living sibling.” Neither said a word, but Arya played this game far better now then Sansa ever could, and remained deathly silent. “If Bran isn’t-”

Arya only then cut her off, she had to get it over with before she left any further ideas get into her head. “It did pass to his oldest living sibling.” Sansa tried interjecting that Arya had just said they thought Bran wasn’t coming back. Arya though, did not even blink. “I wasn’t talking about Bran.”

She knew she had put it together. The referring to Arya as Lady of Winterfell was the biggest clue, she was not ruling as anything more and Sansa’s face only twitched a bit in a disbelief with her doubting tone to match. “Jon’s in the Nights Watch-”

“He isn’t now. Kings can set precedence to pardon men from lifelong vows for urgent royal decrees.”

The two sisters looked to one another, and finally it was said what Arya knew she’d do. “He can’t be a King, he’s a bastard.” It shouldn’t have made Arya as mad as it did, she knew what was coming but it still made her angry. Learning Jon was King in the North, she had never even considered that. He was her brother that was all which mattered. “Bastards can’t inherit-”

“He can if Robb decreed it before he died.” Sansa shortly asked if he did, and Aryas brow raised slightly as if testing her. “Maybe you should ask everyone out there for yourself. He reclaimed Winterfell from the Boltons, he’s the one finishing Robbs work of making the North independent again. No one had to listen, Robb was dead they could’ve ignored his will. But they chose to make Jon the King all on their own.”

Her expression was hard to read, but Arya stood firm as she argued back. “The law has never allowed a bastard to-”

“What law, Sansa? The Iron Throne? He’s not fighting for the Iron Throne, he’s King in the North. He’s following what the last Kings law was, what Robb wanted.”

Sansa was quiet, and Arya hated the next thing she said with a passion. “Robb named him a Stark.”

If she did not grasp the anger on Arya’s face, that was her fault. The anger in her she felt was difficult to keep down. “Jon’s name is still Snow, but he’s always been a Stark. He’s always been one of us, and Robb knew it. Jon has every right to be King.”

The quiet between them was deafening. “If he’s King, why isn’t he here?”

Arya matched the quiet one, not letting her sisters taller stature intimidate her as she stepped into her space looking up at her. “He’s doing what needs to be done.” Sansa only asked what that was, and Arya felt her face harden even more. The feeling petty but unable to be tossed aside that she didn’t deserve a real answer, she wouldn’t even believe it. “Protecting us. All of us.”

Stepping away she had enough, Arya didn’t want to fight more in front of their father, in front of Rickon. “So if you only came here to be Queen, it’s too late. The North already has a King and Queen.”

Turning on the spot, Arya hardly got anywhere away when Sansa had spoke up. “And a Queen?” Turning her body only half way, Aryas brows narrowed at her. “You said a King and a Queen. Wouldn’t that mean Jon got married? To who?”

Arya though, let her head jolt back a bit in confusion. “Littlefinger didn’t tell you as much as he claimed he did, clearly. If you don’t know yet.”

Sansa had yelled an ask of, “Know what?” But Arya left her alone down there. She had told Sansa their brother was King, and all she did was question why he was allowed to be if he was a bastard. She still didn’t get it. At this point, Arya didn’t know if she ever would, and it only made her even more angry.

To say things around Winterfell were tense was an understatement. Both sisters avoided each other, as Arya continued about the duties Jon left for her. The back of her mind she knew it must have stood out that even though her older sister was home, the lords around still spoke to Arya instead. Unsure if it was because now they were simply used to her, or if Sansa had proved herself to be as untrustworthy as Arya feared.

If Sansa had learned where Jon was, she didn’t say anything. If she learned it was you he was married too, she didn’t say anything. If she even learned of both his and your deaths, she didn’t say anything. Arya and Theon barley were around any time Sansa would be for a meal, finding themselves purposely busy elsewhere.

It was all rather uncomfortable, but Arya didn’t know how to approach any of it on her own without accidentally turning the situation into something far closer to a boiling point. A fair number of people stood freely in the meeting hall discussing one thing or another. Arya could see Sansa lingering in the background watchful, but neither sister said any words to each other.

But then they heard a ruckus outside. Muffled as it grew and grew, until it sounded like excitement was found in the courtyard. Looking to the walls as if seeing through it, Arya and Maege traded a glance of question which turned into something brighter and hopeful, certainly on Aryas face as the muffled sounds of what appeared to include the words king and north. The second someone came through the doors it was clear what they were about to say by the level of noise. “My lady, it’s-”

Arya cut him off with wide eyes, seeing no one around her anymore. “My brother?” She did not even hear his next words before her feet begun to move, as did all else in the hall and those still inside slowly making their way out as word spread like a forest fire.

In every truth, it almost was too overwhelming to the point Jon hardly could focus on any of it.

The crowd small, and then more and more people came and then the talking, shouting, and gleeful celebration of their Kings return came which only drew more people. Climbing down from his horse, he was grateful for the small few still rushing through to do their duty as he managed to hand the reigns off to one of the stable boys.

Being who he was had an advantage in the fact that the people moved for him as he could too see the level of people overwhelmed Meera, still atop her own horse. Pushing through, he held an arm out as if to motion for them to move, before grabbing her as she climbed off herself, and brought her back to the side of the cart he had been at with an arm around her shoulders.

They had all spent much time out alone, and Meera even moreso then he and you. It was all loud and overwhelming to the senses but he could hardly focus. The more people came out, the louder it got until they all realized who else was here, which then it fell silent.

Stepping up to the cart, Jon carefully prompted you up with him, guiding you down to the ground as Meera assisted on the other side to ensure the jostle wasn’t too destabilizing for the baby. Pulling you close into his side with one arm wrapped around your back, resting at the upper arm of yours, too keeping the baby close tucked up in your chest, the other at your waist keeping you pressed back into him safely, but there was no denying what they were all now looking at.

His eyes looking over the crowd desperate for someone he could trust without explaining anything when instantly he caught sight of some just emerging with wide eyes. Whispering waved over the people as Jon lifted his head to shout, “Selyse.”

Your mother looked stunned for a moment, but she moved swiftly as Maege beside her acted as the guide for her through the crowd as Jon moved you with him to meet in the middle. Nodding for them to turn around it became a small huddle as Jon spoke lowly for the two women to hear as he guided you to the entrance they came from. “Take her to my chambers, get Maester Wolkan to look at both of them immediately. I’ll be there soon as I can.” Pulling your head just the slightest closer to him, Jon rasped in your ear only for you. “I won’t be long, I promise.” Pressing his lips to your hair, he let Selyse and Maege take over bringing you swiftly out of the noise and into the castle.

As if all understood suddenly, the noise returned in far more yelling. For what they all realized, not only had the King in the North returned after months but he had returned with his Queen and a newborn in your arms. The details would require a proper explanation at a later point, but the laughs and mighty pats and smacks to his arm as he passed, Jon could only return some back with more of a smile gracing his face.

Trying to move back to where Bran and Meera still were, Jon had gotten within a few feet when he heard a voice shouting over the rest. Turning in place in an instant, Jon looked over the crowd knowing damn well she’d see him before he could spot her short stature, but the moment he saw one pushing through the crowds did he shout back. “Arya,”

Not a single moment wasted like the last, neither caring about those watching at all. Jon moved to her as Arya ran to him. And still further not he nor her hesitated as she jumped into him, and Jon caught her. Pulling her tight as she held him tightly back, both relieved beyond anything. Sitting her back to her feet, Jon didn’t hold back in pulling her head close as he leaned down, pressing a firm kiss to his little sister’s forehead. Arya looked up to him with a bright smile. “I missed you.”

Smiling just as much, Jon muttered it right back. “I missed you too. But I wasn’t the only one.” Turning her towards the cart, it was likely, not even half a second before they saw one another.

Bran called to her, Arya called to him, and not wasting any longer did Arya run and practically leap up onto the cart. Were Bran not already sitting she’d have knocked him over, but both wrapped their arms around the other as tight as could be. Jon knew, what he and Arya had were special but Bran and Arya to each other were much like what Robb and Jon were to one another. Close in age, and each others closest companions most of their lives.

The two practically were twins in how much they could once be seen together, always getting into trouble or bickering as if they existed to poke fun at the other. Appearing moreso behind them, Jon braced himself perched by the edge as he smiled brightly at how both were to see each other again after all that time. “I promised you I would bring him home.”

Both laughing but truly refusing to let go yet, it only made sense. Bran was ten and Arya was eleven when they last saw each other, and now at fifteen and sixteen they were so different yet not at all changed. Looking up enough to Jon, his hand running gently down the back of his little brothers head as he joked up to him, “I certainly didn’t make it easy.”

Yet, there were two pairs of eyes in the crowd which did not have anything close to such a reunion. One had watched, but slunk away as if feeling there was not quite the room for how things had been for the days she was there, but as soon as Jon thought he had caught sight of hair he had not seen as long as he had seen Bran, did it disappear.

Arya though, pulled away from Bran. The whispers were unheard by any else, but she knew Jon of all people had to know before walking into the rest of the castle. The other though, is what pulled his attention away from both his siblings or any of the people around to greet them as well. Grey eyes wide as he watched her carefully, it was a pain which she had refused to speak about but it was going to always come out one way or another.

She was still just a girl, and Jon could only wonder if this was the first time Meera had let herself feel the true extent of whatever had happened out there.

Slowly did she start moving through the more parting ways crowd as some returned to what they had been doing or moved into groups, at the same time Howland Reed carved a path through towards her. Meera stood still the moment father and daughter got within a few feet of one another. No words even needed be spoken.

A knowing passed across Howland’s face as he tilted his head in the only question he’d ask about it outright, but the tears on Meera had fallen without her ability to stop them. Slowly she shook her head, but the very second her father stepped into her reach did she break. Not loud enough for any around to notice, and the ones who did recognized it all too knowingly as Jon had.

Howland puled Meera into him, as her arms wrapped desperately around her father. Keeping her tight in his front, he ran a hand over her hair, letting her cry in the safety of his embrace as he briefly glanced up to Jon and Bran. Bran swallowed roughly with something begging to go away washing over his eyes, and Jon nodded one and subtly.

Were Meera not so hidden in her fathers arms, one may have heard her muffled attempt of, “I’m sorry,” through jagged breaths between cries, and the gentle murmuring of her father telling her not to be. In a way, Jon was glad. Well over a week he knew her, and for years to to be keeping that inside and finally letting it out, it was in the arms of her own father to feel that loss.

Watching your brother die in front of you was something not many knew what such agony felt like, nor a parent losing one of their children. But everything she had done for Bran, she was as good as family in Jons eyes. What she wanted next would be up to her, but Jon would ensure she knew just as it was for her father, she too would always have a place in Winterfell for what house Reed has done for Jons family.

There was lots to do, discuss, go over and be brought up to speed on, but right now, the only priority Jon was going to take care of was his family. All of what remained of his was here, or on their way in his uncle’s case. One of which however, Jon did not know what them being here would mean or what it already might mean, but he wouldn’t focus on that now.

She had a place in this reunion, but it was her choice to walk away from being part of it. And whatever way which that would mean for the rest of them going forward, he’d find out in due time. But, Jon had one place to be and much of a crowd to greet in order to make his way there first.

“Would you like to explain how a couple could be that far North for what? A little over six months, and return with a bloody newborn?”

If it were at all possible, which it was, Maege was somehow more irate then your own mother about all of this. Though, you did not yet know if it was being directed at you, or if Jon was going to be on the receiving end of her anger more then you were. It had a chance of going in either direction. Tilting your head, you muttered without much effort, “I presume saying time does not run beyond the Wall the same as here, would not be a believable explanation?” Her eyes narrowed, but yours only softened with a plead. “Jon had no choice-”

“Of course he did-”

Attempting to be firm, but not loud with the baby close to your front you narrowed your eyes at her just as much as she was giving you. “Maege, no one hates that he brought me out there more then Jon himself. If he had a choice, he would never have made one risking any of this, but he did what he needed to do, and so did I.”

The room was quiet, as your mother watched the now silent standoff between yourself and Maege as if the later was the mother you were trying to avoid a lecture from. A small sound though, softened all expressions in an instant as you pulled the still wrapped bundle back from where you held him. Laying him down more comfortably out in your arms, little Eddards eyes started to pry themselves open as his arms now were more free from the fabrics around him.

A gentle shushing came from you, as you moved him in your hold lightly. With all babies it seemed a tender rocking was soothing to them, and the one in your arms was no exception. Selyse and Maege both stepped closer to where you stood holding him but did not invade. The faint trace of a small smile came over you, as he begun to settle before waking up in such a new place with new people could upset him.

It was either you did not notice they could hear you, or part of you simply did not care but not such a soft and loving mutter was ever heard on you from either of them in such a manner as you spoke. “It’s alright, you’re home. We’re finally home, sweet boy. I promise.” The way his eyes shined up at you, it never ceased to strike you thus far the degree to which they looked just like Jon. The green was yours, but even at such a small size and age, you could tell he was going to grow up to look exactly like his father.

Drawing your attention up as Maester Wolkan came in, but unlike either of the two in the room accompanying you, he did not seem surprised at the sight. A small bow before turning to close the door, “My Queen” Turning properly, his calm was somewhat relieving to the nerves running within your blood. “It is truly a relief to find you have returned to us safe and sound.”

That time it was Selyse who spoke up with a slight indigence. “Safe?”

Turning your head barley to the side, you couldn’t even see her but the tone pushed through all the same. “Mother.” No words came back to you as once more you looked to Wolkan as you approached him slowly. Reaching out gently with an ask of permission first, you nodded. Pulling back the covering by the babies head just the slightest to get a first glance at him. Muttering quietly to him in almost a lulling voice, “It’s alright, this is Maester Wolkan. He is here to make sure you’re good and healthy.”

Eyes flickering up to him, the slight worry however was seen painting over your own features. Wolkan asking with a soothing calm, “And does the little one have a name?”

“Eddard.”

You looked not at either womans reaction, not in the right mindset to handle whatever associations in their minds they were making personally. Wolkan though kept his tone soft and even. “A fitting name for a Stark blooded Snow. Would you be comfortable laying him down on the bed, so we could take a closer look at him?”

Nodding, you both moved to the bed, gently holding the back of his head to support him before he lay out comfortably. Undoing the blankets and swaddled shirt keeping him hidden away. Muttering to Wolkan as you sat down on the bed next to the where the baby laid out that you had no clothes to dress him in. “Has be been wrapped up like this the entire time?” Explaining he was more then hidden from the cold even in furs when out beyond, he looked him over with gentle eyes.

Clearly used to interacting with babies, part of you felt nothing but thanks that between all of the maesters you knew, the three most important ones in your life had all been gentle and kind beyond what you knew some were. You dared not imagine how little comfort having your infant tended to by Grandmaester Pycelle would’ve been.

Noting he was rather small, he asked you how long ago was he born. “Over a week. I’m not sure how many days beyond that. Jon would know for certain.” Before he could ask or say anything, you revealed the truth that to a man such as himself he likely already knew. “He was born a month early. I had only reached eight months when he came into this world.”

Whatever shock your mother and Maege had you looked not to such reactions, not now. Telling him of the size the baby was when he was born, and already what of him had grown, Wolkan did not add to the worry you and Jon had felt when seeing for the first time his very small size. “Infants born that early tend to be quite small. Some occasions they will have stunted growth for some time, and others the body compensates too much and they grow too quickly. I presume you have fed him from your own breast?” Nodding yes, Wolkan hummed in thought as he seemed to be almost testing the baby with how he would physically react to certain gentle stimuli. “You have nothing to fear thus far in regards to his size, your grace. Early born infants rely on the nutrients of their mothers milk far more then normal babes. It helps them catch up to the growing they would have done inside you.”

Questions here and there, inspecting parts of him which only a maester would know what it means, he had asked you in passing almost. “What assistance did you have when you laboured him, may I ask?”

You knew your quiet sounded suspicious, but that your answer would catch even more attention from all three parties. “We were a near a week from reaching Castle Black. There was only, Jon, Ghost and I. Jon had to deliver him, himself.”

That time you purposefully were keeping your attention down on the baby, keeping his focus on you to not get upset by still being so exposed to the air around a man he did not know. “The King delivered your son alone?” Biting down on your tongue, you nodded once. You still hated it fell on him, that shouldn’t have been forced to be his responsibility. You couldn’t imagine what you had forced him to feel in those hours practically all alone with how little you could speak through the pain and blood.

By the time Wolkan seemed to come to his assessment, you were nothing but relieved. “He seems, for his size and circumstances to be in extraordinary health. I would suggest we meet every other day to check on his progress until he reaches his proper potential, but otherwise you have nothing to worry about thus far. You and his grace have taken wonderful care of him in such circumstances.”

It was your turn however, and as you wrapped him back up in what you still only had, you felt more nerves then before. Glancing up to the stern silence of both women in the room, you hesitated as you shifted the baby in your arms. Maege found the right words first, passing you by with a comforting hand on your shoulder with a fondness as she looked at you. “I’ll see if we can’t find something proper to dress him in.”

You thanked her in a whisper, but both of you knew she needed nothing of the sort from you. Turning to the other, you gestured down to him. “Would you be alright taking him, mother?”

She stood at once, with a light in her eyes you had not seen in some time. “Of course.” Coming close, as you both exchanged his hold, your mother softened with a smile you hadn’t seen in even longer. “Hello, little one. You’re safe with me, I’m your grandmother.” Holding him calm in her arms, your eyes met. Had you two held such a relationship, you both may have found words for what wanted to be said, but there was none. “Would you want privacy?”

You shook your head though, not sure if you needed another in the room, or perhaps if the idea of little Eddard being so far away again upset you. But she understood. Finding a place comfortable to sit with him, but giving you privacy for what needed to be done, you knew too there were a number of things you would need to explain, and more then a few injuries to elaborate on.

At the very least, your entire time knowing Wolkan had not made you both strangers to seeing such intimate injuries on you, nor was this anywhere near the strangest or most horrifying. Each description increased in the severity of the situations, but by the time the most pressing part came, you could provide little to add. Just an unspeakable pain and more blood then there should have been. You looked at none but the dark stone ceiling above with as little voice as you could provide, trying not to return to that night. For many reasons, but such an important one to be seen to was the least you wished to return to.

You spoke not of the terror that you wouldn’t make it.

By the time you were sat more upright, your mother had come closer. Sitting on the edge of the bed, but not invading your space entirely as she watched with a careful gaze. Wolkan however, seemed to have much more confidence and comfort then either of you. “You will need much rest for the next number of days, but otherwise your injuries have begun healing well all on their own.”

Your mother asking in a quiet doubt which you took no offence towards. “Right after birthing a child, and none of those have long lasting problems?”

Wolkan only shook his head. “I assure you, my lady. Were it to be more severe, she would be in far worse shape then she currently is. Likely most of her current weakness comes from a mixture of exhaustion and strain on the body in general.” Directing his attention towards you, which you had by then moved to more match your mothers position rather then staying laid out on the bed as before. “The worst of the bleeding has all but ceased. Birthing a child that early means you will likely require far less time to heal, but I will need to see to you on a regular basis to ensure no further complications have arisen.”

Merely a nod left you, thinking not to yourself what something darker was asking to be brought up. You had only just gotten back, push that away. Just for now. Handle it tomorrow.

Putting little Eddard, mostly now asleep in a small cradle, your mother seemed to speak for you to Maester Wolkan with little thought to your relative quiet, how little you had yet to move. “I’m sure we will be able to find something suitable enough for him to sleep in properly.”

Wolkan had been putting his own things away slowly. “Lord Stark raised six children, I’m sure somewhere within the storage below we will find an appropriate bed for him.” His attention turning to you, catching your gaze to shoot up suddenly. “We should be able to acquire something before the tomorrow evening.”

You were quiet as you said it, a little dispondant had you the thought to put a word to it. “No need to rush yourselves. He got this far without a bed.” Luckily, muffled voices from outside spared you from any further questioning as your brows narrowed looking towards the door.

Though there was little question as to who was speaking to whom, both strong voices when agitated could grow to a loud yell echoing over top one another. Maege seemed to have found herself at a crossroads with Jon about whether or not he should interrupt, with the later not taking it very well at the insulation that he should give his own wife privacy in these regards. The moment you heard something well along the lines of Jon saying he delivered his son himself, and Maege starting on something about he dragged you out there in the first place your hand rose to press against your forehead as your elbows leaned on your knees.

“Mother, could you go out there and tell them to stop arguing about me where I can hear them?”

Her head tilted a little in an understanding if not a bit of amusement behind her gaze knowing what form of headache could arise in you. Moving swiftly to the door now that little Eddard was settled and asleep in his small cradle on a table closer to the fire, she and Wolkan stood at the door where no doubt both heads turned to see your mothers disapproving stare along with a strict lecturing tone. “If you two are going to argue, I presume taking it elsewhere but the hall would be appropriate.”

Hearing the trail end of Jon asking how you were, the door closed behind the rest of them likely to discuss it as giving you quiet. Slowly standing, you circled around to where little Eddard slept soundly. Your hand rising to rest just enough on the blanket covering his chest that you could feel his faint breathing moving up and down.

It felt strange, knowing he was here and real and yours. It was not a dream you would awake from and find yourself trapped back down in the cold cell of the Dreadfort, alone and feverish. Not the life you once thought you’d have but one similar in the one you once wanted. But the way to such a path was so blood soaked you felt like it all would melt away around you and reveal it was a facade.

Head turning on the spot, the door opened and closed with only enough space for Jon to quickly slip through. Wide eyes as he looked from the bed over to where you actually stood. Whatever was in his hand he didn’t even look as he placed it to the cabinet beside him and walked over to you. Looking you over in the short time he had to cross the way was something shining bright in his eyes as if the worry had yet to realize it didn’t need to stay.

Turning to face him more, you hadn’t even managed to say his name before Jon wasted no more of his time. Cupping your cheeks, Jon leaned down as he too pulled you up to meet his lips. A desperate kiss rough and demanding as if pouring the remaining nerves flowing through him into yours, just as in return you gifted him your sighs. Your hands found his waist at first, but as Jon tilted your jaw up to better keep your lips to his. You let them slide up his chest and around the back of his neck.

Keeping one hand on your jaw as he deepened his kiss, Jon wrapped the other around your waist and back to pull you tight into his front before keeping you there at your hip with a tight hold. Small nibbles to your bottom lip were followed by him chasing to keep you even closer, the hand on your jaw sliding to cup the back of your neck and force you to lean up for him.

The urgency faded a little, replaced by something no less desperate, but begging for you to not pull away yet. Hand adjusting and re adjusting over and over through the strands of hair in his fingers to almost caress his hold as much as it was forcing you to stay in his kiss. His tongue gently running along your lip as you gasped from another small bite, only for his hands to grip you tighter, the manner in which you so easily parted your lips granting his tongue permission to brush over yours. Your hands tightening their grip with your nails digging somewhat into the curls fallen loose from the day as he explored the taste of your mouth gently with a need constantly keeping him pulling you close when you drifted even somewhat.

Not yet letting you go, Jon used his grip on your hip to turn you away from the table. Pushing you further back into the room before the back of your knees came into contact with the edge of the bed. Pulling away just enough, Jon rasped deeply as his breath danced hot across your skin he remained so close. “Sit.”

The moment you tried to gently protest of his name, Jon pulled you back to his lips as soon as he connected them on his own moving forward. Sitting you down your hands braced against the fur below you before seeking Jon out again. Now kneeling before you Jon had to lurch upward to almost hover over you again. As if were he not dragging your lips up to his you might escape, and he could not handle that by how much he cupped your cheeks once more with a force pressing you to his lips that made your lungs start to burn.

Begging for air, but no mercy was granted as he stole each and every but of air you needed, taking all for himself what your needs were to trust he’d give it back. A whimper slipped through just as your nails dug deep into his skin enough indents were made, did he tear himself away. Strands of saliva not yet snapping between you as he tilted your forehead to rest against his. Your chest heaving as you tried to regain your breath, Jon running a hand down your hair at the back of your head.

Through the pounding in your heart, you heard not the door knocking. Only a faint murmur from Jon refusing to let you move from him, telling them to come on. The moment your eyes opened Jon tugged you back to focus on him, eyes closing again naturally from the force it took him to keep you close enough he could push forward hardly an inch and capture your lips again.

Hands smoothing out against his shoulders until voices told him whatever they had been doing was ready. Barley muttering out a thank you as the doors closed, your brows furrowed. Jon only then tilted your forehead down to meet his lips as he pulled back enough to seek your eyes.

The rasp just as deep, but the grey returned to his eyes wide looking now up at you. His touch never leaving by your jaw, cheek or through your hair. “Maege brought him some clothes, and I had them run a bath for you, both of you when he wakes up.” Smoothly running your hands along the skin exposed around his neck, you couldn’t help but look Jon over with a silence but all within it dripped of a gentle feeling you hadn’t been able to give him alone in days upon days. Not realizing your silence, Jon prompted you as he nudged his nose against yours before racing down the length of it. “Do you want to be alone for-”

Shaking your head, your words were more desperate then you expected, or him. “No, no. Please, I want you with me.”

Sighing deeply, Jon nodded. Pulling you in for one more gentle kiss, much more chaste then before. A smile breezing onto his lips as he chased your kiss once, twice more. “Always.”

As if made of porcelain, Jon stood grabbing your hands to pull you up, but never quite let go as he ran them smoothly across your hips. Once more resting his forehead against yours. Your voice small but tender as you let yours sit high on his chest. “I’ll set the record straight with Maege tomorrow. She’s worked up is all, I don’t want her thinking you did anything wrong.”

Only a single nod followed, as Jon moved to pull your head close to kiss your forehead muttering against it. “Don’t worry about that, darling.” Perhaps something sat on your tongue wanting to defend your position, but you didn’t. Allowing him to guide you to the other room, warm and steaming the water begged for you to join. Everything sat out ready, with a smaller basin kept warm nearby as Jon muttered in your ear. “It’ll be his first proper bath.”

Leaning back into his chest as he kept you pressed against him you only smiled faintly once more. “It’ll be his first proper night in his real home.”

Lips finding their way to your neck, Jon murmured against you, letting his hands now drift up to the remaining layers covering your front. “Our first proper night as a family.” Instead of finding a good response, Jon stole your breath again but this time with the swiftness in which he pulled your final layer off from your torso, leaving you exposed to the cold. Muttering back that was all you could ask for, Jon only laughed as he turned you to face him, working now gently on your bottom layers. “We’ll do this right next time. I’ll give you a little girl, and we’ll have her here.”

You only nodded, once again letting a shiver come about as the last of the wretched layers you felt so trapped in for so long were finally off you. Not moving in the slightest, you begun working on Jon. The layers easy to come off, but too did you look forward to being able to take your time again. Work on his many layers, leathers or armour. Undoing every little bit keeping him so well put together that gave you both more intimate quiet then the minute or two this all took in total.

Instantly, your hands found his torso. Palms flat against the scars across him, just as real as they ever were before you shook yourself out of it. Reaching up you reached behind without looking from his grey eyes, letting loose his curls. Running your fingers through them as his jaw clenched ever so briefly as his eyes fluttered. Swallowing rougher, Jon rasped as he pushed lightly at your hip. “Get in for me.”

Little needed to be said, there was little to say at all. First Jon pulling your back into his chest so he could carefully wash your hair and skin, only for you to turn in his grip. Perched in his lap to do the same. Acts so simple for a man and wife but so long forgotten between you both in this manner. Unable to help himself, more then once as you were so close, Jon interrupted your work to pull you by your chin to meet his lips, letting you go to work again as he ran his hands along your waist, then losing that control again and kissing you once more.

Nearly unwilling to let you go for any period of time, even as he pulled you both from the water did he keep you in front of him. Hands, lips and eyes always attached to you in one fashion or another, but it was the small sound in Jons main room which drew a smile from you both. It was someone else’s turn that time.

For such a small thing, it did strike you both as rather funny it still took four hands to bathe little Eddard. One of you would occupy his need to grab and play with one of you, while the other gently cleaned him. Water splashing at you more then once as the baby's small babble of a sound drew your eyes narrowed. Leaning down to him with a jesting lecture, “You won’t be so silly when this takes too long and the water is cold.” A small kiss to his forehead and he was much more at ease.

“They won’t fit him perfect, but it will do until we can get him things of his own.” Jon was right, the baby being born so early meant that normal sized clothes even for newborns were still too big, but at least he could be warm and comfortable better then he had been able to since he came into the world. It all felt so easy, so natural the way you and Jon worked together with him, but you had not much in the way of time to focus on it. Jon kissed the side of your head, muttering into your hair, “You look as tired as him. You need to rest.”

For once, you did not argue that at all. A fading mumble as he laid you under the furs properly, “Thank you.” A smile passing his lips asking for what, your brows furrowed as if he should already know. “For everything, for him, for getting us home, keeping us safe. All of it.” But your eyes begun to slip closed, and with a kiss to your lips, then forehead before all you recalled warm in Jons bed was his rasp in your ear to sleep and perhaps the fading off memory of telling you he loves you, but by the time you would have wished to respond, the softness and warmth around you finally overtook whatever remained in your head, and drifted away.

Jon could affirmatively say, he had only been expecting to take care of one child that night.

But much to his own instant amusement, did the feeling not long after he left you and the baby to sleep did his discussion with Wolkan get interrupted with something running into his leg with a rather young sound to follow. “Jon,”

Blonde hair and bright blue eyes, if those did not give it away, the giggle did. Looking down, did the laughing figure of a more grown Sam come into Jons view. Crouching down more to him, Jon smiled easily running a hand over the boys hair. “Look how much bigger you’ve gotten.” A quick glance saw he was alone, and a knowing look rose in his eyebrows to the boy. “Where’s your mother?”

Shaking his head in what Jon knew all too well was a mischievous look, he grinned. Continuing on, “Now I know you’re not supposed to be awake.” Glancing up to Wolkan who was equally as amused. “We’ll finish discussing this in the morning.” Picking the boy of three up whose arms raised eager to be picked up by him, Jon perched him in his arms to keep him at his own eye level. He hadn’t seen either of them yet, so Jon did not know where Gilly would be, but he had a feeling he knew Sam well enough to guess where he’d be at this time in the evening.

Voices a little frantic were heard behind the door as Jon approached, raising a brow to the toddler as if to point out what hes caused. From looks of worry to surprise to exasperation all within seconds did Gilly turn from where she and Sam had been much more worried and make her way with playfully narrowed eyes. “Samwell.”

Hiding instantly into Jon, he could only laugh as he approached her. His voice more gentle then before, “I think he heard I was back, and came looking for me.” Sighing deeply, Gilly tried to apologize before Jon dismissed the need for it. Putting him down, Gilly pointed to the other side of the room where no doubt his bed was in a side room.

All watching little Sam make his way before it seemed to dawn on both other parties exactly what was happening. Sam calling Jons name in a relief, and the closer Gilly just as matching in tone, “We didn’t know when you were coming back, I’m so glad you’re alright.” For someone who was as small as you were, it continued to always surprise Jon when Gilly’s hug could be as strong as it was. Jon only muttered he didn’t know either, she pulled back with a desperate wide eyed look saying your name. “Is she alright, is the baby-”

Holding her by her arms, Jon muttered that you were alright, both of you. Letting go, she glanced between he and Sam before giving both space she knew that they needed. If Gilly was happy to see Jon back and alive, Sam was even moreso. Neither hesitated in bringing the other in for a hug, no time the two of them spent apart ever had managed to separate that they were as close to brothers as they could possibly get without the same blood. And too many times had they seen the other off not knowing when or if they’d ever come back.

“What was it even like?”

Both arms perched on the table between them, Jon first only propped one up by his elbow as he let the bitter taste of the ale burn down his throat. Doing little to hide the wince as he let the mug hit down on the wooden surface a little harder then necessary. Rough and low his tone was, but in truth he couldn’t stand around listening to anyone congratulate him anymore. “What was it like? What do you want me to say, Sam?”

Already people were whispering about it in wonder, when it really did not feel good to look back on for either of you. Jaw clenched, Jon could nearly still hear it, the screams in his head. How in the cave they echoed around you both making that all either of you could hear. Sam had clearly not been expecting the sort of reaction Jon was giving him. “I only mean, you delivered the baby yourself. That must have been something.”

Dark eyes stared down at the wood as he failed to clear his throat before the tearing showed up in his voice, only a mutter but something heavy and in pain intertwined with it. “It was awful.” Meeting Sam’s taken aback gaze, Jon dropped his eyes once more as they grew brighter but with a shine none close to happy. “We were alone, and she only had me. I- I couldn’t even help her. Something was wrong and she was in so much pain but I couldn’t do anything but force her to handle it alone.”

Jon didn’t want to see the look in Sams eyes, he didn’t want to confront the gut wrenching feeling in his own heart. Luckily, his voice came down to his lack of loudness and was less sympathetic but more on the realistic side Jon tended to live at. “And Maester Wolkan said they are both fine. You did everything right, Jon-”

Cutting him off, he was far away. Not present as his hand gripped the mud tight to the point the strain was visible in his knuckles. “I thought I lost her.” The heartbreak in his eyes was something Sam almost couldn’t look at, but he held Jons gaze as much as he was willing to meet his. “When it was all over, for a moment she..there was a minute after when I didn’t even know if she was alive, and all the blood..”

Sam had tried a more reasonable way to divert that pain, “There’s always pain and blood in delivering a baby, it was-”

“My father had four children after me, Sam. It was never like that..she was in so much pain she could barley breath, she couldn’t even talk.” Jon bothered not to hide the water behind his eyes, but attempted to drown out that feeling in his veins as he downed far more of the bitter ale then he had the last time. “I didn’t comfort her once, forced her to endure it on her own because I had to focus on the baby.”

Sams voice was stern as he spoke up. “Jon.” Eyes flickering back over, Sams head tilted a bit as his voice followed with more emphasis. “She’s alive, the baby’s alive and you’re all home, together. Most men wouldn’t have even done as much as you did, most would’ve left her to birth a child all alone.”

He didn’t want the tears to fall, but even if they did, Jon knew Sam could see how much they were already building up as it was. “And after?” Words not spoken at first, and it only gave Jon the room to let that darkness brew further. “I was supposed to protect her, and I didn’t. Twice. I wasn’t the one who hurt her, but I didn’t keep her safe. I’m the reason she was out there in the first place. She shouldn’t be thanking me for keeping her safe when I didn’t.”

In a switching tactic, Sam changed the subject not too far to be jarring, but enough to hopefully swivel Jons self hatred from falling too deep into the depths. “So you named him after your father?”

In the minimal, it pulled a small grin from Jon. “From the minute he was born I knew I wanted to name him after my father.” Meant only as a joke, Sam had commented that at least his name would be easy to explain, being a family name already, but Jon hadn’t even thought much of how he said it nor to be patronizing. “Sams is easy too. You’re already his father where it matters.”

Not unlike the name of Eddard, Jon knew. Not much different at all. Two fathers by blood a son would loathe to learn of, and a father which birth or not was the only one which mattered.

“When are you going to reveal him?” Jons face jolted back twisting in a pure confusion for a moment as Sam laughed. “Really, sometimes I think you of all people forget the most that you’re a King.” His brows furrowed more and Jon was already aware for his sake, Sam was withholding a no doubt clever comment about his intelligence. “He’s not just your son, he’s the son of the King in the North. Aren’t the firstborn Princes of a King supposed to get revealed formally to the court?”

Jon hadn’t even considered that. Not truly. Thinking of himself in terms of being called a King was one thing, but now calling his son a Prince? That certainly would take a grand amount of getting used to he realized. Running a hand over his forehead Jon muttered your name, “When she’s better then maybe. There’s a lot more to do first then reveal a son everyone already knows I have by now.”

By the time Jon made to leave, Sam had one more question in mind as he turned from where he was by the door. “Jon, what did you learn out there? Something that could save us, or help?” When he hesitated, Sams tone lowered to more a concern again. “Was it anything good?”

It wasn’t any words Jon said, as he said nothing, but the morose look on his face that did not give much optimism by the time he muttered out, “Goodnight, Sam.” And closed the door behind him. Jon and you had learned too much out there, and part of him wishes he never did. It might have made some of this a bit easier, but there was no changing the past. He knew what he knew, and the only singular option was to move forward best he could.

As Jon grasped the handle to his chamber door, for a moment, Jon thought perhaps he spotted her again. If so, she had disappeared down the hall before he could call out to her. Sighing deeply, Jon closed his eyes to gather that tension and leave it here before walking into his chambers for the night. Tomorrow he had a busy day, make sure you always had someone with you to help and ensure you were actually resting as needed. Make sure by the end of the night he’d have most of what his son would need now that he was home.

But right now, the fact that Sansa was both watching and avoiding him couldn’t be on Jons list of things to deal with. He couldn’t force her to accept anything, and he was likely the last sibling she would take well to some of the more harsh truths about their new specific debacle. He never wanted it to be one against the other with any of his siblings, but Jon was aware enough that if there was one sibling who such a problem would turn unpleasant against, it was her.

For now, he had to be fine with the simple fact that she was home. There weren’t many of them left, their family, but what there was, was alive and it would have to do. Jon did know however, that tomorrow he and Arya needed to start handling the much more urgent problem, that came with Sansa returning home.

Jon though, was not quite sure he had the self restraint to not at some point, let his temper get the best of him in what would be his first meeting of Petyr Baelish. He never liked him from the stories you would tell him when you sat on the small council, and now that had grown into a hatred. But as he entered his chambers, he could only smile.

You and the baby clearly had been awake at some point. His small cradle moved from the table to the floor on Jons side of the bed as the fur there was rustled as if you had sat there for a while. Likely he presumed, he had woken up hungry and no doubt woken you up with him. Now uncovered by the furs, laid atop you, in fact you were on top of them further down the bed not even with a pillow. Your arm by the look of it seemed like you would be able to easily reach down to soothe him should he awake again and you wanted to be close if need be.

As quiet as could be did Jon pull most of his layers off, leaving just his breeches as he carefully climbed up on the bed beside you. Leaning over to press a kiss to your neck as he pulled your long hair out of his way, Jon didn’t move you. Just positioned himself behind you in the same manner close to the edge, only tugging your back a bit more comfortably into his chest. One hand running over your hip, Jon had to remind himself.

Maester Wolkan had said you’d need a while to heal entirely if you got enough rest. The bleeding had stopped but you’d still be in too much pain for anything like that. Your emotions had been all over the place, even if since getting to Castle Black they had been on the better side. Jon had to remember not to push you, or make you feel pressured just because of the darkness in his head. He could look at you now, and say without any fantasy that you were the mother of his child and even that thought alone he felt his cock stir.

He didn’t want you to feel like he would pressure you into anything, he wanted to wait as long as you needed. Jon closed his eyes, nuzzling into the back of your head and neck as the oils he used to wash your hair invaded his senses enough to relax him. His final thought as his mind begun to fade was to ease off of you for a while. Back up the amount he could be physical with you, no matter what the wolf in him growled in such a dark clawing instinct, sex with you wasn’t anywhere near the most important thing in his love for you.

If only the twisting fog in your own head had understood that when you would wake.

[jonsnowunemploymentera]

What in the "hell" is going on with Rickon Stark?

Consider the moment when Rickon Stark ventured into the Winterfell crypts and spoke with what he believed to be his father:

“Shaggy,” a small voice called. When Bran looked up, his little brother was standing in the mouth of Father’s tomb. With one final snap at Summer’s face, Shaggydog broke off and bounded to Rickon’s side. “You let my father be,” Rickon warned Luwin. “You let him be.” “Rickon,” Bran said softly. “Father’s not here.” “Yes he is. I saw him.” Tears glistened on Rickon’s face. “I saw him last night.” “In your dream …?” Rickon nodded. “You leave him. You leave him be. He’s coming home now, like he promised. He’s coming home.”

Bran VII, AGOT

Prior to this encounter, Bran had revealed that the three-eyed crow had visited his dreams the night before, guiding him to the crypts where he spoke with Ned's ghost. Bran's ability to foresee Ned's impending death isn't unexpected—after all, he is a greenseer.

But what about Rickon? Is he a greenseer too? Well,

“In a sense. Those you call the children of the forest have eyes as golden as the sun, but once in a great while one is born amongst them with eyes as red as blood, or green as the moss on a tree in the heart of the forest. By these signs do the gods mark those they have chosen to receive the gift. The chosen ones are not robust, and their quick years upon the earth are few, for every song must have its balance. But once inside the wood they linger long indeed. A thousand eyes, a hundred skins, wisdom deep as the roots of ancient trees. Greenseers.”

Bran III, ADWD

Rickon himself hasn't been explicitly marked as one, but ADWD tells us that his direwolf, Shaggydog, has the eyes of a greenseer:

He had a pack as well, once. Five they had been, and a sixth who stood aside. Somewhere down inside him were the sounds the men had given them to tell one from the other, but it was not by their sounds he knew them. He remembered their scents, his brothers and his sisters. They all had smelled alike, had smelled of pack, but each was different too. His angry brother with the hot green eyes was near, the prince felt, though he had not seen him for many hunts. Yet with every sun that set he grew more distant, and he had been the last. The others were far scattered, like leaves blown by the wild wind.

While Shaggydog's green eyes hint at a connection to greenseers, this alone doesn't fully explain what's going on with Rickon. There seems to be something deeper—an affinity with death itself.

More than any other character, Rickon spends a lot of time in the Winterfell crypts. We start hearing about this by Bran's sixth AGoT chapter, when the boys lean that Robb has to go south - a journey from which he will never return. Upon hearing the news, it's quite notable that Rickon instinctively seeks solace among the dead Stark kings. What's even more interesting is this:

“Listen to Maester Luwin’s counsel, and take care of Rickon. Tell him that I’ll be back as soon as the fighting is done.” Rickon had refused to come down. He was up in his chamber, red-eyed and defiant. “No!” he’d screamed when Bran had asked if he didn’t want to say farewell to Robb. “NO farewell!” “I told him,” Bran said. “He says no one ever comes back.”

Bran VI, AGOT.

For whatever reason, Rickon seems to have a rather heightened sense of death. Which brings us back to his direwolf, Shaggydog.

It just doesn't make sense to me. Why does Rickon's direwolf, of all the wolves, have unique coloring alongside Jon’s Ghost? Ghost’s white fur makes sense given Jon's outsider status and central role in the story. But why Shaggydog? Shouldn't Bran, with his greenseer abilities, have the "special" wolf? Instead, it’s Shaggydog, with his jet-black fur and green eyes, who stands out.

Given Rickon’s frequent presence in the Stark crypts, it seems possible that GRRM is suggesting Rickon has a spiritual connection to the dead—perhaps even serving in a role akin to a guardian, considering his apparent communion with the deceased. Several mythological figures come to mind as potential inspirations for this role.

One such figure is Anubis, the well-known Egyptian deity associated with death and the afterlife. 

Anubis is commonly depicted either as a man with the head of a jackal or as a black jackal or dog. He plays a crucial role in the mummification process and guides souls to the afterlife.

He has a less well-known brother, Wepwawet, who is tasked with "opening the way" for the dead on their journey to the afterlife. While Anubis is traditionally shown as black, Wepwawet is often depicted as white or grey. This stark contrast evokes the imagery of the Stark direwolves: Grey Wind, Summer, and Ghost, with their grey or white fur, parallel Wepwawet, whereas Shaggydog, with his distinctive black fur, symbolizes a link to Anubis. This alignment suggests a symbolic connection between Rickon and Anubis, while Jon, Bran, and Robb may correspond to Wepwawet.

Interestingly, throughout the series, all three of Rickon’s brothers have been portrayed as boys with wolf heads.

Farther on she came upon a feast of corpses. Savagely slaughtered, the feasters lay strewn across overturned chairs and hacked trestle tables, asprawl in pools of congealing blood. Some had lost limbs, even heads. Severed hands clutched bloody cups, wooden spoons, roast fowl, heels of bread. In a throne above them sat a dead man with the head of a wolf. He wore an iron crown and held a leg of lamb in one hand as a king might hold a scepter, and his eyes followed Dany with mute appeal.

Dany IV, ACOK

Stark’s direwolf killed four of our wolfhounds and tore the kennelmaster’s arm off his shoulder, even after we’d filled him full of quarrels …”

“So you sewed his head on Robb Stark’s neck after both o’ them were dead,” said yellow cloak.

Epilogue, ASOS

[...] The wooden man she had glimpsed, though, and the boy with the wolf’s face … 

The flames crackled softly, and in their crackling she heard the whispered name Jon Snow. His long face floated before her, limned in tongues of red and orange, appearing and disappearing again, a shadow half-seen behind a fluttering curtain. Now he was a man, now a wolf, now a man again. But the skulls were here as well, the skulls were all around him.

Melisandre, ADWD

Both Jon and Bran, along with their direwolves, also have a notable connection to the dead, further reinforcing the parallel to Wepwawet.

He sniffed at the bark, smelled wolf and tree and boy, but behind that there were other scents, the rich brown smell of warm earth and the hard grey smell of stone and something else, something terrible. Death, he knew. He was smelling death. He cringed back, his hair bristling, and bared his fangs. Don’t be afraid, I like it in the dark. No one can see you, but you can see them. But first you have to open your eyes. See? Like this. And the tree reached down and touched him.

Jon VII, ACOK

GRRM could be exploring the idea of Rickon as one with a deep connection to the spirits of the dead. This could explain not only his ability to perceive Ned’s presence in AGoT, but also his capacity to engage in extended conversations with him.

Additionally, various myths feature guiding dogs that act as "gatekeepers" to their respective underworlds.

Among these, Cerberus is perhaps the most renowned: the Greek three-headed black dog tasked with keeping the dead in Hades and preventing the living from entering.

ref: https://mythopedia.com/topics/cerberus

Cerberus has a Norse counterpart in Garmr, a black hound who similarly guards the gates of Hel, overseeing the dead and preventing the living from crossing into the underworld.

In Celtic mythology, black dogs like the Cŵn Annwn and the Barghest are often seen as omens of death or as guardians of the underworld. A modern depiction of this idea appears in the Harry Potter series, where the black dog, known as the Grim, is a harbinger of death.

Rickon is not a POV character, so we don't have direct insight into his thoughts or experiences with warging or dreaming. However, the evidence suggests that he is deeply connected to the concept of death and the underworld. In this way, he parallels his warg siblings—Jon, Bran, and Arya—who also have connections to death and the dead in various ways.

Rickon’s frequent presence in the crypts, his communion with spirits, and his direwolf’s distinctive black fur align him with these ancient symbols of death and protection. The many mythological references suggest that Rickon may not merely be a passive observer but could embody a significant role in the spiritual realm of the Stark family, hinting at a deeper narrative purpose that aligns with these ancient archetypes.

Whether GRRM will further explore Rickon’s connection to the dead remains to be seen, but the text and these mythological parallels certainly raise intriguing questions about his role in the magical landscape of the story.

[mousy-nona]

Prompt. Alastor hits deer mating season and tries not to let anyone know, but Lucifer finds out.

Obligatory warning: It's a mating prompt. There's going to be EXPLICIT SCENES.

“Do you smell that?” 

Husk sniffed the air delicately, then shook his head. “Nothing but Angel Dust’s normal B.O.”

Angel Dust purred. “Don’t pretend like you don’t love it.” 

The cat rolled his eyes and turned back towards the bar, but not before Lucifer caught the rare smile he reserved for Angel Dust curving on the corners of his lips. 

“Do you seriously not smell that?” Lucifer asked, puzzled. The scent was growing stronger by the second, so rich and heavy it seemed to hang in the air. Musky, woody, with a spicy sharpness to it, like crushed pine needles and orange blossoms. There was something else to it though – something that Lucifer couldn’t quite put his finger on, but it filled his head like an opium cloud. His thoughts felt slow, like molasses in winter. 

His body was a different story. Every time he breathed in, a tingle of electricity ran through him. His fingers were trembling, and his skin felt too tight and a little numb at the same time. 

Am I being drugged?

He was just about to excuse himself when Alastor came rushing around the corner. He was moving fast, as if he was being chased by a pack of wolves, and muttering something to himself like a lunatic. He didn’t see Lucifer until it was too late, and they collided into each other so hard the impact sent them both tumbling to the ground. 

“Ouch! Clean up on aisle four!” Angel Dust crowed. 

“Shut up.” Alastor’s voice was distorted, as if it had been spliced into four. He sounded strained, his throat clenched. 

The scent was unbelievably strong now. Lucifer’s head swam with it. On autopilot, he picked himself up off the ground and extended a hand towards Alastor to help him up. Alastor moved to swat it away, but the second their hands touched, it was like a sonic blast ripped through the hotel. Lucifer’s world went numb, flexed and narrowed in on one thing, and one thing only: Alastor. A bolt of lightning ran up his arm, through his chest, down his legs, and pooled underneath his belt. His legs went weak with need. 

Alastor, for his part, didn’t seem much better off. His eyes were wide with disbelief, his chest heaving as his breathing stuttered. He was staring at Lucifer as if he was a ghost. 

And then something shifted. His eyes went blank, and Alastor – the Alastor Lucifer knew, at least – flickered out of view as something else, something infinitely hungrier and far more desperate, took over. 

Alastor snarled and leapt forward, grabbing Lucifer by the neck. People were shouting something behind them, but Lucifer couldn’t hear them, couldn’t see them over the thick fog of musk and wood rolling off of Alastor. 

Shadows swallowed them whole, and spat them back out in a dark bayou, lit only by the weak light of the stars and the moon twinkling high above.

“Where–?”

But Alastor wasn’t listening. His sharp claws ripped Lucifer’s shirt and coat into shreds in a matter of seconds, his red eyes gleaming with a hazy madness. 

Lucifer forced himself to shake off some of that beguiling smell. It was telling him to relax, to give in. It urged him to thread his hands through Alastor’s gorgeous hair, to stroke his antlers, to finally admit to his deepest, most shameful desire – that he had always wondered what Alastor might taste like.

But he still didn’t know what the hell was going on. 

“What – Alastor, wait – slow down!” He pushed Alastor back with a blast of angelic grace. Alastor hissed, his eyes still crazed with need, and came for him again. This time, Lucifer grabbed him by the shoulders and flung him into a nearby spring. 

Alastor spluttered as he surfaced, shaking some of the water off his head. “What the hell was that for?” His voice was still distorted, but at least he was using his words again. 

“Are you going to tell me what’s going on?” Lucifer demanded. 

Alastor pulled himself out of the spring and flung his drenched coat off with a bitter grumble, revealing his bare forearms and – to Lucifer’s endless delight – a little tuft of a tail. In the gentle light of the moon, Lucifer could see every ripple of his toned abs, every flex of his broad chest beneath the wet shirt that clung to him like a second skin.

The hazy smell grew stronger. Breathe through it. Don’t lose control. “What did you say?”

“It's my mating season,” Alastor snarled, meeting his eyes again. There was something hypnotic in their scarlet gleam. Lucifer found himself taking a step forward before he caught himself. “Every couple of years, my pheromones go into overdrive. I – no, my body – sends out signals to any potential mates. I usually wait it out.” He shuddered, his jaw flexing. “It’s never found anyone before.” 

A sizzle of pride and pure, clean joy cut through the haze filling Lucifer’s brain. So Alastor had never done this with anyone before? 

(Was he special?)

“So what are you saying – that you’re horny?” 

Alastor blurred – and suddenly he was in front of him, ripping the rest of Lucifer’s tattered shirt from his body. He yelped, but Alastor ignored him. 

“If that’s how you want to think about it,” he growled, then he dug his teeth into the crook of Lucifer’s neck. 

A jolt of intense pain that turned into searing pleasure roared through Lucifer. As if in a trance, he grabbed one of Alastor’s antlers and wound his other hand into the softness of his hair. Then he pulled, hard, forcing Alastor to let go with an audible hiss. 

“None of that,” he snapped.

Alastor grinned, and it was sharp enough to cut him to the core. “No need to play coy with me, your Majesty. The thing about these pheromones – they work both ways. And they never work on the unwilling.” 

The quick flash of heat (shameshameshame) was invitation enough for Alastor to pounce again. He rid Lucifer of his belt and his pants just as quickly as he did his shirt. Lucifer, not to be outdone, showed Alastor he had a pair of claws on his own and slashed Alastor’s entire outfit in half with one slice of his nail. It wasn’t a clean cut – a thin line of red welled up on Alastor’s chest, his stomach, and his right thigh. 

Lucifer was about to apologize, but the words died in his throat when Alastor dipped his finger into his own blood and sucked it clean.

“Want to try?” He asked in his trademark sing-song. 

Lucifer surged forward. Their mouths met in a clash of teeth and tongue, and Lucifer felt himself go even harder at the dark taste of spice and sin on his lips. 

“You drive me crazy,” he whispered when they broke apart. 

“My dear, I am crazy,” Alastor chuckled. “What did you expect?” 

Then Lucifer grazed his upper thigh, perilously close to his dick, and Alastor cut himself off with a gasp. That strange need clouded his eyes, and once again, Alastor’s primal self took over. He roared, pushing Lucifer onto the ground, their bare legs tangling as he pushed his hand between their legs. 

The haze swirled, that sweet, opium smell wiping out the rest of Lucifer’s good sense as Alastor gripped his naked cock with his claws. He groaned, lifting his hips obligingly towards the deer to give him a better angle. That groan turned into a cry when he felt Alastor smearing his own precum on the head of his dick and pushing it against his entrance. 

More, his heart thudded. More. More. 

He must have been saying it out loud without realizing it, because Alastor grinned. “As you wish.” 

Then he pushed in. Lucifer screamed as he felt Alastor’s hardness invading him, penetrating him, stretching him to the limit. But with it, he felt the bond between them swell, take on a new shape. The hatred was still there, yes, but there was something else now too. 

And through it all, the same sentence kept running over and over in his fevered brain: Alastor’s never taken another mate.

Alastor’s eyes rolled back, his back arching as he let loose a low moan. His body was shaking, and his hips were moving as if he was a man possessed. That smell was thick in the air, drugging them both as the pleasure washed over them, coming faster and faster until finally –

The explosion that ripped through Lucifer was like nothing he had ever felt before. He had been there for the birth of the cosmos, for the first steps of mankind, for everything that had come before and that would come after. He had thought he had experienced all the firsts in the world. 

But this…

He clutched Alastor, who was still trembling from the force of the release. Unlike Lucifer, who was basking in the afterglow, he looked…unsure of himself. Now that the pressing drive of the mating call had disappeared, he looked lost, as if he’d been dumped in the middle of a strange land with no map and no compass. 

“Don’t go,” Lucifer whispered, eyeing the strange shadows that were bubbling by his feet. “Stay here with me.”

Alastor wouldn’t meet his eyes, and Lucifer didn’t make him. But he did hold his hand. 

“We can work it out together. Just stay.”

Alastor didn’t say anything. But the shadows disappeared, and the two of them sat in the stillness and the quiet of the bayou.

He didn’t let go of his hand.

[waitingandwishing]

(Cross posted on Wattpad)

Prev - Next Chapter

“Do you hear that?” Jinx asked, her voice sharp, eyes scanning the shadows around them. Her fingers tightened around the grip of her machine gun as she raised it. 

A crow called out, flapping its wings and soaring off into the sky. The sound of creaking metal followed, echoing in the distance, growing louder with every passing second.

Y/N’s gaze flicked toward the tunnels, her senses tingling with anticipation. She knew what was coming. “Fireflies,” she whispered, her voice steady but filled with an eerie calm. She could see them now, tiny green lights flickering from deep within the tunnels, swarming toward them like moths to a flame.

Jinx’s lips curled into a manic grin. Without another word, she began firing, her bullets cutting through the air with deadly precision. 

Sparks erupted as the rounds struck the walls, ricocheting off the stone, but she didn’t stop. Her focus was absolute, her every shot a perfect rhythm in the symphony of chaos.

Y/N stood still for a moment, breathing deeply, the world around her fading into a hushed quiet as the air seemed to thicken. ‘Do it.’ A voice whispered in her mind, smooth as silk but with a weight that settled deep in her bones.

The three stones in her hand pulsed, glowing brighter with every heartbeat. Runes carved into her skin shimmered, as though alive, reacting to the magic that surged within her. The energy coiled inside her like a spring, ready to be unleashed.

With a subtle shift in the air, the world seemed to crackle, alive with power. Y/N’s eyes flickered with faint light, an unmistakable glow that marked the rise of her magic. 

The energy coursed through her veins, suffusing her limbs with a power that made her heart beat in time with the crackling rhythm of the runes.

Around them, enemies closed in, their blades drawn and gleaming in the dim light. They moved like shadows, fluid and quick, circling them like wolves.

A smirk curled at the corner of her lips as she raised her hands. Her fingers traced intricate patterns in the air, each movement creating arcs of light that followed her fingertips like fireflies dancing in the night. 

Sparks of blue light danced from her fingertips, coalescing into glowing runes that floated in the air, pulsing with energy.

The first firefly charged at her, sword raised high, its blade gleaming with malice in the fading sunlight. Y/N’s eyes narrowed. With a flick of her wrist, she conjured a shimmering wall of force just in time.

The firefly’s blade struck the barrier with a deafening clang, sending the warrior hurtling backward, the force of the impact leaving him sprawling in the dust.

Before he could recover, Y/N flicked her wrist again, her hand glowing with crackling blue energy. 

A bolt of pure arcane power shot from her palm, streaking through the air and striking the firefly square in the chest. He fell instantly, his body hitting the ground with a sickening thud, motionless.

But there were more.

The remaining fireflies surged forward, their movements swift and practiced. Y/N stepped forward, her feet light on the ground, her hands moving fluidly in the air as she drew more complex patterns, tracing ancient symbols of power. One firefly charged her, sword raised high, ready to strike.

Y/N didn’t move at first, her eyes locked on the enemy, her face an unreadable mask. 

The firefly was within striking distance now, its sword descending with deadly force.

In the final instant, Y/N sidestepped with chilling precision, her movements flowing like water. The firefly’s sword swished through the empty space where she had been a heartbeat ago.

Y/N’s palm shot out, crackling with pale blue energy. The arcane force slammed into the firefly’s chest with a concussive burst, sending him flying backward with a violent snap of his head. He collided with the ground hard, his body crumpling like a ragdoll.

Her hand rose, poised to finish the job. But then, something caught her attention. A slight crack appeared in the firefly’s mask, the edges splitting just enough for her to see his eyes. Eyes that pleaded for mercy, like a child trapped in a nightmare.

For a fraction of a second, Y/N faltered. Her magic flickered, uncertainty creeping into her thoughts. She hesitated.

Suddenly, a knee struck her head with brutal force, snapping her back into the present. The world spun violently, the air gone from her lungs as pain exploded across her skull.

Before she could react, her legs gave way, and she fell to the ground, her vision blurring as the world tilted dangerously. 

“MA!”

The last thing she saw before darkness took her was the firefly’s body, unmoving on the ground, and the chaotic swirl of light and shadow around her.

_____________________________________________________

Y/N groaned softly, a faint glow of light passing through her eyelids as she stirred. Slowly opening her eyes, she found herself back in her bedroom. The events prior to waking up flickered in her mind, fragmented but unforgettable.

She turned her gaze to her hands, now their normal hue, free of the strange blue glow. Yet, beneath her skin, she could still feel the faint buzz of residual energy. Her thoughts drifted. ‘Where was Jinx?’

With a deep sigh, Y/N pushed herself up, her muscles aching as she moved. She stumbled into the hallway, rubbing the remnants of sleep from her eyes. The sound of a crash jolted her senses. 

It came from Jinx’s room. Her breath caught in her throat, and she quickened her pace, her hand trembling slightly as she pushed the door open.

“I didn’t lose her! They took her!” Jinx snarled, her voice thick with rage and anguish. Her chest heaved as she threw her gun to the floor, the clatter echoing in the tense air. She stilled for a moment, only to hiss through gritted teeth, “She was there for me! Not the enforcer!”

“Why would I remember her name?!” Jinx’s hands darted to her desk, snatching a stapler. The cold click of the device sent a shiver through Y/N as she watched Jinx lower it toward her injured leg. Before the girl could press it to her skin, Y/N reached out, her hand firm but gentle as it halted the impulsive act.

“Jinx,” Y/N said softly.

Jinx’s head snapped up at the sound of her voice. Her wide eyes shimmered with a manic light, her expression a volatile mix of relief and tension.

“You’re awake,” Jinx breathed, dropping the stapler onto the desk without a second thought.

Y/N pulled out a chair and sat, her movements calm as she reached into one of Jinx’s drawers and retrieved a small med kit. “Of course I am,” she replied, her voice steady. Unzipping the kit, she retrieved a needle and thread.

A strained silence hung in the room as Y/N gently peeled back the fabric of Jinx’s pants to inspect the wound. The gash wasn’t too deep, but it still needed attention. “Do you want to talk?” she asked softly, threading the needle with practiced ease.

Jinx’s lips pressed into a thin line as she turned her head away, the fire in her eyes dimming to a pouty frustration. Y/N began to stitch the wound, her fingers steady despite the tension in the room.

“Thankfully, this isn’t as bad as it could have been,” Y/N murmured, her tone light but comforting.

Jinx nodded faintly, her expression unreadable. After a moment, her voice broke the silence, tentative and small. “Are you mad at me?” she asked, her gaze flickering toward Y/N.

Y/N paused briefly, looking up to meet Jinx’s eyes. “Why would I be mad?” she asked, inviting her to continue.

“I let Vi get away,” Jinx admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. Her fingers fidgeted nervously in her lap.

Y/N shook her head firmly. “No, you didn’t,” she said, her voice steady and resolute. “The fireflies took her. This wasn’t on you.”

Jinx’s shoulders slumped as the words sank in before widening her eyes, “Caitlyn.”

“Hm?”

“That was her name. The enforcer.” Jinx breathed out, leaning back with a sigh and a manic smile, “It was Caitlyn…”

_____________________________________________________

“‘M glad you’re alive, Ma…” Jinx muttered, though her voice was slightly pouty. Her braids cascaded down her back as she was curled up into a ball, her hands on a telescope.

“I’m glad you’re alive too.” Y/N smiled softly, “We’re gonna get that crystal thing back, right?”

Jinx nodded, not taking her eyes off of Vi and Caitlyn, “Yeah.”

After a moment of watching, she whispered to herself,  “Shut up. It’s just a goodbye hug,” Jinx muttered, her voice sharp but shaky. Her frown deepened, brows furrowed. “She wouldn’t do that. Not again.”

Weird, glowing circles pulsed surrounded Y/N’s hand as she whispered something under her breath. The air shimmered faintly, vibrating with a latent energy that made Jinx’s hair stand on end.

Y/N turned her gaze to Jinx, her expression softening. “You know I’ll always protect you, right, Jinx?”

Jinx hesitated, the voices in her head receding for a moment at the sound of Y/N’s voice. That voice had always cut through the chaos. A faint smile broke across her face, shaky but genuine. 

“Yeah,” She replied, resting her head against Y/N’s shoulder. “What are you gonna do exactly with the magic? I thought you said you couldn’t use it like that.”

“I dunno,” Y/N admitted with a small shrug, her lips quirking into a wry grin. “It just… Speaks to me, I guess.” She flexed her fingers, the runes glowing brighter for a moment before dimming. “But don’t worry, I’ll hold off the enforcers while you deal with Ekko and that enforcer girl.”

“It’s just you and me now, huh?” Jinx asked, her voice lighter as she raised her telescope to her eye.

“Always.”

Their palms met with a sharp slap, their fingers curling and locking together to form the shape of a bird. They flapped their joined hands twice, mimicking the motion of wings.

“A bird can’t fly without both of its wings,” Y/N said, a small, reassuring smile playing on her lips. The runes on her hand pulsed in response.

Suddenly, a gunshot shattered the moment. Y/N squinted, her eyes narrowing as she spotted the commotion across the bridge. Ekko crumpled to the ground, clutching his chest as Marcus grabbed the gemstone.

“Caitlyn!” Vi’s voice echoed through the chaos, raw with panic.

Jinx gasped, her eyes widening, a crazed look flickering across her face as her grip on the telescope faltered. It clattered to the ground as she clutched her head, screaming, “Liar!”

Y/N stepped forward, her expression darkening. The two climbed down from one of the bridge pillars, their footsteps echoing against the flickering lights. Y/N kicked a discarded helmet aside, her gaze landing on a man reaching for something in the rubble.

Jinx didn’t hesitate. She pointed her gun and fired. The shot rang out, sharp and final. The man slumped forward, lifeless, and Jinx walked on as if nothing had happened.

The gemstone in Y/N’s ring glowed brighter, and intricate circles of runes spiraled around her wrists, thrumming with energy.

Jinx stooped to pick up the container that once held the gemstone, opening it discreetly before handing the blue stone to Y/N. “Protection, right?” she asked, her tone clipped but expectant.

“Right,” Y/N confirmed, taking the stone and raising her hand.

Jinx’s attention snapped to Caitlyn and Vi in the distance. Her eyes darted back and forth, wild and unhinged, before she raised her machine gun and opened fire, the rapid shots echoing across the bridge.

Ekko darted forward suddenly, his movements a blur as he landed in front of Caitlyn and Vi. “Go!” He shouted at them.

Jinx hesitated, her gaze locking with Vi’s. For a fleeting moment, her eyes pleaded. Don’t leave me again. But Vi did. She turned, leaving with Caitlyn without looking back.

A sharp laugh bubbled out of Jinx, tinged with bitterness and madness. She turned to Y/N, her expression twisted into something almost gleeful.

“Well, look who it is! The Boy Savior!” She yelled, her voice dripping with mockery. 

Ekko looked between them, his gaze lingering on Y/N’s glowing runes before returning to Jinx. He chuckled dryly, his watch dangling from his hand, ticking back and forth ominously.

Jinx matched his laugh, raising her gun with a wild grin and firing the first shot. Ekko dodged easily, flipping over the next two bullets before closing the distance with his staff raised high.

Jinx’s weapon was knocked aside as Ekko pinned her down, his staff pressing against her throat. She thrashed wildly, her eyes blazing with fury, but he held her fast.

Y/N raised her hand, a shimmering shield forming around Jinx. With a flick of her wrist, Ekko was lifted into the air and thrown aside.

“Nice to see you again, Ekko! When was the last time we met?” Y/N asked, her voice dripping with faux nostalgia as she sent a blast of energy his way. Ekko rolled to the side, dodging it easily.

He steadied himself, glaring. “I believe you stole the shimmer we recovered!”

“Right! And then the building exploded,” Y/N said, casting a quick glance at Jinx. “Courtesy of her.”

Ekko raised his weapon once again, the staff barely touching Y/N as it collided with the magic shields. Y/N slid back slightly from the pressure, eyes glowing a faint blue before…

Boom.

She’d lost control.

A deafening explosion ripped through the bridge, the sound of it like the earth itself shattering. The blast sent a wave of blue cascading through the air, thick and suffocating, swallowing everything in its wake. The world around Y/N and Ekko blurred into a swirling haze of dust and chaos.

Y/N gasped, the air thick with smoke and debris. Her lungs burned as she coughed violently, her vision spinning. The ground beneath her feet trembled, and for a moment, it felt as if the world was collapsing around her.

"JINX!" Y/N shouted, her voice hoarse and desperate. She coughed again, the sting of pain shooting through her arm. Her body felt heavy, as though every movement took more effort than it should.

She stumbled forward, her legs shaking beneath her, every step unsteady as if the ground was shifting beneath her. Her arm throbbed painfully, and something else ached as well. 

Was her leg gone? 

The numbness spread upward, clouding her senses. Panic rose in her chest, but she fought it down. Focus, she told herself. She had to find Jinx.

“POWDER!” Y/N cried out, finally catching sight of the blue-haired girl lying motionless on the ground.

Her heart clenched in her chest, and she moved as fast as she could, stumbling over the rubble and debris, her feet heavy and uncooperative. The pain in her leg seemed distant now, but the blood that stained the stone beneath her was real. Her own blood.

With a final, desperate burst of strength, she reached Jinx, her hand trembling as she touched the other girl’s shoulder.

Y/N’s breath came in ragged gasps as she fell to her knees, her body screaming in protest. She reached for Jinx, pulling her into her arms, the warmth of her body both comforting and terrifying. 

The blood from Y/N’s leg dripped onto the cold stone, mixing with the dust that lingered in the air. She couldn’t focus on the pain, only Jinx.

She pressed her ear to Jinx’s chest, desperate for any sign that she was still breathing. A heartbeat. Anything.

“C’mon, Jinx, please…” Y/N whispered, her voice cracking. A small smile tugged at the corners of her lips despite the tears blurring her vision. “It’s not funny anymore, c’mon Bluejay…”

But Jinx didn’t stir.

Y/N pressed her forehead against Jinx’s, her tears falling freely now, streaking down her face. Her heart shattered with each sob, each desperate cry. She shook Jinx again, her hands rough and frantic, pulling her closer as if she could somehow will the life back into her.

Y/N wailed, the sound raw and guttural, ripping from deep within her. The echo of her own voice rang in her ears as she rocked back and forth, cradling Jinx’s lifeless form. There was no response, no movement. Only silence.

Y/N’s breath hitched, and for a moment, she just held her, the weight of everything crashing down on her. Not again, she thought, her chest tightening with grief and guilt. She couldn’t do this again. She couldn’t bear the thought of losing someone she cared about, someone who meant more to her than anything.

“Jinx…” Y/N whispered, her voice barely audible. She closed her eyes, resting her forehead against Jinx’s once more, her hands trembling as they held her tight. “Please, Bluejay… please… Don’t leave me…”

‘Is there anything so undoing as a daughter…’

(I think I might've gone a bit overboard this time???)

taglist: @night-fall-moon @cyberwears @g0ul666 (If you'd like to be added tell me in the comments!!!)

[roseamongroses]

with strange tenderness ch: 1/7

Alternate Universe - Modern Setting /Alternate Universe - Small Town /Artist Mel Medarda/ Muse! Sevika /Court Mandated Found Family/ Sevika Does Not Get Paid Enough (Arcane: League of Legends)/ Retired! Sevika/ Parental Death/ Past Traumatic Events/ Past Violence & Stalking/ Mild Sexual Content/ Dog/Cat Dynamic/ Canon-Typical Exploitation of the Working Class/ no beta we die like Silco/ Vitiligo! Mel/ repeated silco slander/ Hurt/Comfort/ Past Child Abuse/ Past Neglect/ Domestic Fluff

Summary:

“The fuck is a Medarda doin’ in this bum-fuck town?” Jinx asked, squinting at the card.

-

In sleepy, small-town Zaun, nothing changes. Sevika never wanted to return to this shit-hole, but in the aftermath of Silco's execution, she didn't have much of a choice. With two new wards thrust upon her and a forced retirement, she wasn't sure what to make of her new life.

She didn't expect much.

She definitely didn't expect her.

-

ao3

-

Delicate flurries drifted from a neverending expanse of sky, kissing the slope of Sevika’s face with their fleeting cold.

Sevika let out a great, shuddering breath.

Smoke billowed from her mouth and nostrils, an unfurling heat that dissipated all too easily in the face of that crisp winter air. She cracked open an eye, dark and weary.

An ever-persistent nuisance was standing before her, a vision of lovely dark skin, white marks dusting across her cheeks and forehead. The woman was wrapped in soft layers, a teetering snowman of cashmere and fur. In her hand, she held a mahogany colored leash frightfully tight, it's gold stitching catching the early morning light. It looped around, a long line that led to a honey-coated pitbull hiding behind their owner’s shapely legs. It's matching coat and booties looked far more expensive than anything in her own closet.

Sevika let the silence stretch on, stare unrelenting. She narrowed in on the woman hoping to scare her off.

Instead the woman arched a well-shaped eyebrow, polite smile never faltering, “Well?” she pressed again.

Sevika raised her cigarette to her mouth pointedly, inhaling deep.

Scrutinizing her for a moment, the woman pivoted easily, “If you change your mind,’ she started, reaching into her pocket and pulling out a neat, gold square and promptly extending it towards the other woman, “Please give me a call at your convenience. I’d love to discuss in further detail, “ she said.

Sevika wordlessly accepted the business card, watching the woman’s ponytail swing as she returned to her jog. She twirled that slip of paper between her fingers, then once the woman was out of sight, she raised it in the light.

Taking another drag of her cigarette, she squinted at the dark, looping cursive.

-

“The fuck is a Medarda doin’ in this bum-fuck town?” Jinx asked, squinting at the card. Her blue stray hairs were wild about her scrawny face, braids dangling as she hung upside from the seat of the couch.

She had snatched the card from Sevika’s coat pocket after catching a glimpse of the shine. The teenager collected shiny things for her scrapbooks--nails, bubble-gum wrappers, coins. She hoarded junk like a crow until she could smash it together with her beloved hot glue gun. The hobby almost always led to her going through Sevika’s shit like she owned the place.

“How would I know?” Sevika grumbled, back turned as she looked through the fridge with a frown, “She’s some artist or something,” she says, distractedly. She needed to clean out the fridge, everything looks like wolves had chewed through it.

Something warm brushed against her leg and she absentmindedly reached down, scratching the smallest free-loader of the bunch behind the ear. Majesty--her full name far too long and nonsensical for Sevika to even bother remembering--stretched into her touch, tail curling about her boot. She was a stray that Jinx and Isha had found a while ago. Dark brown fur speckled with blonde, wide green eyes that squinted up pleased. She adjusted well to house life. Sevika always suspected she had another home.

“Huh,” Jinx tilted her head, word puncturing the air, “You saved her number,” she notes, a mischievous look stretching across her face.

Sevika looked up, turning around sharply.

Jinx waved Sevika’s phone, a beat up, BlackBerry, taunting, “Was she hot? I bet she was hot--” she yelped, scrambling up as the woman went to snatch the phone back. Sevika only needed to take a few, quick strides to reach her from the kitchen.

Jinx had whipped her head around, balancing herself on the far end of the coach, “Is it a sex thing?” she asked, voice cracking as she fell off the couch in an attempt to dodge her once again, “-cause it sounds like a sex thing, ’ she finished, groaning as she sat up.

“What are you, twelve?” Sevika scoffed, stalking her into a corner.

“And a half-” Jinx shouted back, darting between Sevika’s legs and slipping down the hallway. She tossed the BlackBerry behind her as she escaped.

-

‘The Historic City of Zaun’

Sevika drove her pick-up truck past that half-rotten sign, vivid blue graffiti sprawling across the faded letters. Her prosthetic-arm hung out the window, fingers drumming against the wheel as teeth-rattling drums blasted from her speakers.

Zaun was a mining town that was more dirt then town at this point. Its relevance and wealth rapidly spoilt soon after its inception. She quickly passed the streets of pre-war buildings, equal parts glitz and grime, town quickly scattering into the countryside as she drove further north.

Sevika pulled into the parking lot with a screech, grabbing the liquor in the passenger seat. The truck doors swung haphazardly open as she stepped out, boots heavy as snow crunched beneath her feet.

She nodded towards the groundskeeper, ducking her head as she stepped through those stone archways. She kept her eyes trained forward as she passed each headstone, counting in her head. A long shadow stretched behind her before she finally found what she was looking for. A patch of grass nestled between two weathered headstones.

Sevika casted a long-suffering look towards the ground. She sighed, head tipping back, letting the cold wash over her face as she spoke, “Y’know old man,” she said, wind catching the words he couldn’t, “You we’re right. Nothing in this shit-hole changes.”

She flicked her lighter open and closed in her hand, the clicking sound filling the space.

“That’s what you always wanted me to say, right?” Sevika continued, goading the silence.

Death truly was a novel invention. She spent her whole life hearing the floorboards rattle and the screen door slam. She memorized the sound of heavy boots on carpet, the smell of too-sweet smoke in the halls. She gave as much shit as she took, but she always ended up under that bastard’s boot struggling for air.

Now he had no choice but to listen.

It was unnerving.

Sevika was ill-suited to the quiet. Peace was far too sweet for her lungs. Maybe that’s why she left with Silco, chasing that stupid dream. She was eager to gulp down life’s pleasure’s and far too heavy handed to let them go easily.

She was greedy.

And once it was all done, she ended up back here--to repent with the rest of the sinners. Some would consider it a blessing, an empire fell and only took his head, but she thought otherwise.

This so-called second chance felt like she was back at square one.

Swimming in scum and leaping for rewards.

Nothing in Zaun changes.

Not for anyone or anything.

Sevika couldn’t stand it.

Sullen, she opened the liquor, taking a long swig of the nasty bile before dumping the rest on that plot of grass. Bottle empty, she walked away hawking snot and spit into the puddle left behind.

Those thoughts lingered on, haunting her as she climbed back into the truck, pulling off. Air crawled under her skin, raising the hairs on her back as she was filled with a suffocating need to escape, to do something, anything, different.

Sevika lowered the volume on the radio, raising the phone to her ear.

A softly accented voice cut through the noise.

[nightingale2004]

Severus as a God au! Hc

Personally, I think Severus would be the god of death, darkness, vengeance, shadows, and victims (I couldn't just choose one! They all suited him!!!!!)

Severus would not be the most worshipped or even the most liked god (obviously), so he would be hated by a lot of people

People would have written him or saw him as a cruel,unfair, power-hungry god (so pretty much similar to how most people saw Hades)

I feel like he would have a counterpart, which would be Lily, the Goddess of life, fire, nature, and agriculture or possibly charity

Severus's domain is in the underworld (once again, obviously)

He would be the protector of souls who have been through trauma, abuse, and assault

Even though not a lot of people like him, he still does have followers who ask for his guidance, a peaceful death for themselves or others, vengeance, and protection

I feel like he would have crows and raven birds that would help collect the souls of the dead and bring them to him

Severus is a very isolated god. He prefers the comfort of his domain rather than venturing outside of it.

The only time he ever does go outside his own domain is when he is summoned by Albus Dumbledore, the king of the Gods and Ruler of the heavens or when he goes to see Regulus Black, the god of the seas and/or Minerva McGonagall, the Goddess of cats, witchcraft, and the queen of the gods (no she and Dumbledore aren't together romantically. It is purely platonic, and he trusts her to help keep the others in line)

He and Lily used to be close and loved each other like brother and sister despite their differences, but when the Sun God James Potter and his group of friends came in, their relationship crumbled from there

Severus would look pretty much the same, white pale skin, skinny to where you can see his skeleton, the roman nose, pitch black hair, and black as death eyes

He would wear a large black hooded cloak that would cover his whole body. His clothes underneath would be black, grey, dark grey, and sometimes white. He would also have dark feathered wings on his back under his cloak

If he had a weapon, it would be able to change depending on the situation

Despite what most of his haters would think, Severus is actually more than fair. When a person dies and he sees their soul and what they did in their life, he will either put them in paradise (where the good souls go and rest in peace) or purgatory (where the souls go and face punishment for their awful actions)

He has been tormented by James and his group whenever he used to visit the earth realm himself. After his friendship with Lily ended, he remained in his domain ever since, most of the time

The crows and ravens also serve as his eyes and ears on earth

Severus's presence is very noticeable. Whenever Severus is around, it's cold, the shadows on his cloak will surround him, and he will have a dark and cold presence. Also, a crow or raven will be by his side

Severus watches over the souls that are stuck and have become ghosts and make sure they don't cause too much trouble for the living

Severus normally has the hood of his cloak up and almost never shows his face

People have made up stories about how he became a God of death. Some say he was chosen by Dumbledore after Severus died in a brutal way when he was human. Some say he was created from the bones of the dead in a dark cave. Others have even said Severus gave up his soul or traded places with death itself. Along with him being awakened from the soil of an unnamed forgotten grave by a crow

Severus's powers include shadow travel, death magic, shadow magic, sensing when someone is about to die, necromancy, can raise an army of eyes dead, shape-shifting, soul magic, dark magic, and can see your memories and thoughts

Severus and Remus (the god of the moon, wolves, and the wild) are mutual with each other, but he doesn't like Sirius (the dog god and the god of the stars) James (the god of the Sun), or Peter (the Rat god)

The marauders still tormented him and would often disturb him when he was on business

Sirius hates that Regulus goes anywhere near the death god

Severus would often change his form for children so he won't scare them

Severus would act like he has no soul and is completely dead inside, but in reality, he is a softie and a very fair and caring god and has a caring soul

Hates taking away life from those that don't deserve it, but he has to respect the balance and not tip the scales

He doesn't care that he's hated if it means that he must do what needs to be done.

What he doesn't say in words, he shows through action

If you were to see a statue of him, he would have three animals by his side. The black bird, a cat, and a snake

He has three animals. The ravens and the crows collect the souls of the dead. The snake is the protector of souls who are victims, and the Black cat is the sign that Death, aka Severus, is near

[the-mortuary-witch]

RAUM

WHO IS HE?

Raum is a demon mentioned in demonological texts and is often attributed as the 40th demon in the Ars Goetia. He is depicted as a powerful and influential demon with the ability to grant wealth, good health, and sexual favors. Raum is described as appearing as a man with the upper body of a crow, and is said to command up to two hundred legions of demons. In some accounts, he is also associated with the element of air and the power of temptation.

BASIC INFO:

Appearance: he is depicted as a crow which adopts human form at the request of the conjurer. Raum was a massive but thin demon that stood several feet high. He had crow like features with a large black beak and black feathers around his head and chest. He had pure black feathers and giant birds wings. He had pale skin and a pair of yellow eyes. 

Personality: Raum is typically portrayed as having a confident and authoritative demeanor. He is said to be a powerful and influential demon, who commands respect from those around him. He is also described as being cunning and manipulative, using his power and influence to achieve his goals and desires. He is often depicted as being seductive and charismatic, using his powers of persuasion and temptation to lure in and ensnare those who seek his help. Despite his powerful presence, he is also said to be approachable and willing to listen to the pleas of those who call upon him.

Symbols: the element air, crow, lion, wings, sword, wealth, throne, leopard, and crown

Earl/Count of: wealth, good health, and sexual favours

Culture: Demonic

Plants and trees: thistle, rose, cedar, lavender, bay laurel, ash tree, honeysuckle, pine, and haw thorn

Crystals: tigers eye, carnelian, black tourmaline, green aventurine, onyx, pyrite, and labradorite

Animals: crows, leopard, wolves, lion, snakes, eagles, hawks, and ravens

Incense: dragons blood, frankincense, myrrh, rose, and sandalwood

Practices: sex magick, protection, chaos magick, divination, astral projection, transformation, and personal empowerment

Colours: gold, yellow, red, and black

Numbers: 40, 12, and 9

Zodiacs: Aries and Scorpio

Tarot: The Tower

Planet: Mars

Days: Tuesday, new moon, Lupercalia, Beltane, and Lammas

Parents: none known

Siblings: none known

Partner: none known

Children: none known

MISC:

• Wealth and abundance: he has the power to grant material wealth, physical health, and sexual favours to those who summon him. This association likely stemmed from the belief that demons have the power to influence earthly matters, including the acquisition of wealth and material possessions.

• Power and authority: Raum is given the title of "Count," which indicates his position and rank within the infernal hierarchy. This title is seen as a symbol of power and authority, suggesting that Raum has a significant role and influence in the infernal realms. As a powerful demon, Raum is said to command up to two hundred legions of demons, which would require a significant amount of authority and command over lesser spirits. This association with power and authority serves to elevate Raum's status and importance in the infernal hierarchy.

• Temptation and deception: is known for his ability to use his powers of persuasion and illusion to trick and deceive humans into making unwise decisions. He is often depicted as a cunning and manipulative figure who uses his charisma and charm to lure in those who seek his help, only to reveal his true motives later on. This association with temptation and deception reinforces the idea that Raum can be a dangerous and who should be approached with caution and respect.

• The element air and Mars: he is associated with the element of air and the planet Mars due to his planetary and elemental rulership. In many magical and astrological systems, each planet is associated with a specific element and its corresponding qualities, such as: Mars being the planet of war, action, and energy, which is associated with the element of fire. Air being the element of intellect, communication, and intellect, which is believed to have an influence over the mind and rational faculties.

• Magical practices: such as charm bags and love spells because he has the power to influence matters related to love, sex, and relationships. Some believe that he has the ability to help individuals find love, heal emotional wounds, and bring stability and harmony to romantic relationships. As such, he is often invoked in magical rituals and spells related to love and romance, such as creating charm bags or casting love spells to attract a romantic partner.

FACTS ABOUT RAUM:

• Often depicted with the head of a lion or leopard.

• Known for his ability to grant wealth, good health, and sexual favours to those who summon him.

• He is the 40th spirit listed in the Ars Goetia.

• He commands up to two hundred legions of demons.

• He is associated with the planet Mars and the element of air.

• He is said to be cunning, manipulative, and charismatic.

HOW TO INVOKE RAUM:

Working with Raum involves the use of magical techniques and rituals that are intended to summon and communicate with the demon. Here is a basic outline of the steps involved in working with Raum:

• Preparation: before you begin working with Raum, you should prepare yourself and your environment. This might involve cleansing your space, setting up a summoning circle, and gathering any necessary supplies, such as a black mirror, incense, and a candle.

• Invocation: once you have prepared yourself and your space, you can begin the invocation process. This typically involves reciting an invocation or prayer that is specifically written to call upon Raum.

PRAYER FOR RAUM:

"Oh mighty and powerful Count Raum, I call upon you to appear before me in this circle. By your rank and authority, I implore you to bring forth your presence and answer my petition. I offer myself and my will to you, and request your guidance and assistance in matters of power, abundance, and deception.”

“May our partnership be fruitful and beneficial to us both. Hail Count Raum!"

SIGNS THAT RAUM IS CALLING YOU:

• Repeated encounters or dreams involving bats, crows, or other creatures associated with the Earl.

• Sense of curiosity or attraction towards occult practices or the supernatural.

• A feeling of being guided or protected, as if there is a powerful presence watching over you.

• Strange or unexplained occurrences, such as sounds, smells, or chills you cannot explain.

• An urge to study or work with the principles of chaos magic or the Goetic spirits.

• Repeated or coincidental appearances of the numbers 9, 12, and 40.

• Unexpected or unusual opportunities or luck in areas such as money, love, or success.

• Sudden interest or inclination towards dark or morbid topics, such as death, the occult, or the supernatural.

• Strong desire to explore or experience new and different things, particularly those with a darker or more dangerous edge.

OFFERINGS:

• Red/grey candles or objects.

• Ask Raum what he likes.

• Wine, whiskey, or other spirits.

• Meats: beef, venison, bison, duck, goose, turkey, rabbit, pheasant, quail, lamb, goat, salmon, tuna, and/or mackerel.

• Items that are symbolic of your goals and desires, such as a journal.

• Fruits: apples (red or golden), pomegranate, grapes, pears, peaches, figs, avocados, bananas, oranges or tangerines, blueberries, raspberries, or blackberries, pineapple, mango, and papaya.

• Sweets that you enjoy.

• Flowers and plants that are meaningful to you.

• Personal items: jewelry, photos, or other objects that you hold sacred.

• Coins or gemstones.

• Items associated with transformation and change, such as feathers or shells.

DEVOTIONAL ACTS:

• Burning a red or grey candle.

• Working hard in your studies, work, etc.

• Burning dragon's blood incense.

• Giving "riches" to those who need it, such as money.

• Spending time with your significant other or crush.

• Practicing divination with cards, dice, books, music, etc.

• Engaging in a physical challenge or exercise that pushes you to your limits, and dedicating the results of this challenge to him.

• Creating jewelry or talismans with his sigil or name and wearing them as a symbol of your devotion.

• Participating in a ritual or spell that harnesses your emotions and energy to benefit Raum.

• Performing an act of service or charity in his name, such as volunteering for a cause he is associated with.