#the terrifying reign of the king of embers

[didherodown]

Didherodown's Official Danny Phantom episode recommendations

(for the fan who has never seen the series but is in the phandom)

Ordered in sequence of release (taken from imdb, so take that as you will)

Very Important episodes will be noted like this Episodes I think are fun and kinda important like this

enjoy!

Season 1: Has a lot of groundwork for the show, lots of introductions to our cast of Ghosts

Mystery Meat - E1

Where it all started, establishes Sam and Tuckers rivalry over food, our first encounter with the Lunch Lady, and Danny’s first outing as a hero in general

Episodes 2-6 : feature introductions to Dora, Skulker, Technus, Point Dexter, and Desiree 

Bitter Reunions - E7

Our introduction to Vlad! Establishes Vlad vs Danny dynamic, Vlad's hate of Jack and his obsession with Maddie

Prisoners of Love - E8 is our intro to Walker

My Brothers Keeper - E9

Spectra makes her appearance! Shows a lot of Danny’s insecurities he has about being different, an outsider, ect.  And Jazz finds out Danny's identity!

Shades of Gray - E10 

Our first meeting of Valerie, and where her life gets ruined by Cujo!

Fanning the Flames - E11 is our intro to Ember

Maternal Instincts - E17 

Vlad is up to his scheming and tries to get both Danny and Maddie to join him and abandon Jack. (Introduces the Specter Deflector gadget, as well the the Plasmius Maximus)

The Million Dollar Ghost - E19

Vlad puts a bounty on Danny Phantom, making lots and lots of ghost hunters show up- including the GIW

Control Freaks - E20

Circus Gothica! The ringmaster- Freakshow- has a staff that he uses to control ghosts and Danny of course falls victim 

Season 2: Has a lot of bangers- and is very heavy in the Danny Lore AND where a lot of fannon comes from (ghost king, trans danny, pharaoh tuck, ect)

Reign Storm - E4

In which Pariah Dark is awoken and goes on a rampage, sucking Amity Park into the Ghost zone. With the other ghosts also terrified of the Ghost King, Danny might be the only who has a chance to stop him (ghost king danny anyone????)

The Ultimate Enemy - E6

Danny cheats on a test, which we find out actually will end the world. Our introduction to Clockwork and the Eyeball Guys(™). And of course, Danny’s future evil self- Dan !!

King Tuck - E7

Where Tucker gets influenced by Hotep-Ra (origin of the Pharaoh Tucker fannon)

Identity Crisis - E8

Where we learn that simply splitting Danny from his ghost half is not an option, his ghost half is indeed half of him

Flirting with Disaster - E11

Where Danny and Valerie are dating. In this episode her original ghost fighting suit is destroyed and Technus makes her a new version- leading to lots of fannon about Valerie being a little more ghost than she thought

Kindred Spirits - E14

Cloning! Danielle! AHHHHHHH!!!! (trans Danny? All but confirmed /hj)

Reality Trip - E17

Where Freakshow is searching for the stones of the Reality Gauntlet (very reminiscent of the Infinity Gauntlet from Marvel)

Season 3: Often the most criticized of the three seasons, the show was canceled in this season. BUT THERE IS SO MUCH IMPORTANT LORE IN THIS ONE LETS GO

Infinite Realms - E2

Our first meeting with Frostbite! Also tells us a lot about how natural portals work AND the introduction of blood blossoms

Torrent of Terror - E4

Introduces Vortex, also Danny's mood affects the weather for a good part of this episode

Urban Jungle - E6

Undergrowth has taken over amity, making Sam his “Queen” because of her love and care of plants. THIS IS WHERE WE FIRST SEE DANNY’S ICE POWERS! AND WE LEARN ABOUT CORES! YES REALLY ONLY 6 EPISODES FROM THE END

Boxed Up Fury - E8

The Box ghost, upset at not being taken seriously- steals Pandora's Box, and well, that goes about as good as you imagine it going

D-Stablized - E11

Dani is literally dissolving into ectoplasm, and Danny has to find a way to save her before she destabilizes all the way. (Introduces Ecto Dejecto- a fanfic staple)

Now this is just my personal list- based on 20 years of being in this fandom (holy shit how can it be that long????)

Thanks for reading :)

[cardverse-royality-and-rouges]

He spaced out

[cards-of-the-royal-guard]

+Anton, is there someone that you absolutely hate? If so, if you could get revenge on them what would you do?

"You really went for the hard question.. Yes. There is someone I hate.. I don't make a habit of it.. There isn't anything I could do to get any cathartic revenge.. They are dead and gone now.."

[randombtsprincessa]

Blackthorn Creek

Author: Randombtsprincessa

Characters: Park Jimin x Reader (2nd POV)

Words: 24.1k

Genre: Beauty and the Beast AU! Fantasy, Angst, Fluff, Smut!

Rating: NC-17 ranging till 18+ during the last scene, just to be safe.

Warning: Curses, magic, violence, conspiracy for treason, heavy insecurities, imprisonment of sorts, animal attacks, description of blood and injuries, mob mentality, invasion, stabbing, falling from heights, death, marital sex, first time, kissing, fingering, unprotected sex (be careful folksies!) And a whole lotta cheese cause it’s Jimin and I love him.

A/N: The following work is part of the Twisted Fairtytales: Members in Distress for @ksmutclub​ I had the idea for this story sitting in my WIPS and thankfully, the project came at the perfect moment! I hope you all like it as much as I loved writing it! 

A major thank you and a glomping hug to @cuziloveyou7​ and my amazing best friend for all their support for the fic!

The night was chill.

Pale, gossamer links of snow knitted across the glass of the castle, the granite of the stairs seeping the cold through to the skin.

A light chatter was interrupted when the front doors thudded – once, twice and then another time.

It was late, after all; much too late for any visitors, too rude for guests to show up…

The King, a benign man, stood from his seat near the fire, guards surrounding their liege. The Queen looked up at her husband, worried but the King patted her shoulder, beckoning for the doors to be opened.

It would be rude to leave the doors barred too, of course. It could be someone in need.

He watched, curious, as his Maitre D’, Seokjin, walked slowly to the doors. His arms flung the heavy oaken doors open, a flourish to his actions.

“Welcome,” Jin spoke in his exaggerated voice, “to the Castle of Blackthorn Creek. To what do we owe the pleasure, and to whom, may I ask?”

There was silence, much too thick, much too tense to be someone in need, to be a friendly visitor.

“I am here, to see your King. Bring me to him.”

Seokjin stuttered in his vigor, an unnerved stance taking him over as he glanced back to the royal couple, a question to his eyes.

The King cast an eye to his right corner, where his trusted advisor sat, his shoulders visibly tight. Namjoon cleared his throat, a warning sound. “I will see him.” The King said instead, knowing it would be better to see what the stranger wanted.

His guards circled him, his wife remaining behind as he approached and stood behind Seokjin.

“You are in the presence of our Lord and King.” The man announced, drawing away with a stiff bow – unlike any he had performed before.

The King stepped forward, and looked at the man who stood at his doorstep. The man, in turn raised his head, allowing for the dark hood atop his head to fall back. His head was cast in shadows, the whites of the eyes visible as he spoke.

“Your Majesty, I have come from far lands for the pleasure of your company.”

“Consider the pleasure ours, please do come in. What can we do for you?” The King waved a hand, dismissing the surrounding guards as the stranger tilted his head, walking in with his head still held high. He stopped right inside the threshold, as the inmates of the house gazed with wonder and some horror at his visage.

His head was shaven, dark marks etched into the near blue-white skin of his face. His arms bore similar marks, sheathed in crimson robes that were certainly not the fashion of those times.

“Well,” The King pressed.

The stranger slowly blinked his unnerving eyes, a flash of green lighting them. “I hear tales of your kingdom, your generous reign in my homelands. I must say I am not disappointed.”

He finally turned his head to where the Queen sat. “I also hear tales of a beautiful daughter. Your little Princess,”

There was a ringing silence. Guards shifted in their positions, Namjoon and Seokjin drew closer to the Queen and the King froze. To all but the mysterious stranger’s eyes unknown, a small figure crouched at her mother’s skirts, face turned curious to the sudden tension in the air.

“What do you want?” It was the Queen who spoke. Her crown glinted in the firelight, her body clenched on her chair. The stranger didn’t look at her when he answered the question.

“I come with a proposal. I offer my hand in marriage with the Princess.”

There was another pause, albeit much less tense as movement started.

“Preposterous; she is but a child.” This came from Namjoon.

“I am willing to wait.” The stranger said coolly.

“Then you will be waiting forever. I will not give my child to any godforsaken man who happens across my door and throws around absurd ideas. You will never have my daughter.”

“I will be a good husband, and a good king.”

“My Liege; do we have permission to draw arms?” The guard closest to the King asked, his hand already drawing closer to his sheathed sword.

“Nay, no bloodshed; just throw this madman out to the snow.” The King spat, his cloak whirling as he turned to go back to his family.

Behind him, his men converged, arms raised to push the stranger out the palace gates.

Time seemed to slow as the men gathered around his form, which had straightened to as tall as he could get.

“You’ll find you’ve made something of a mistake…Your Majesties.”

A cruel smile curled his lips, hands cupping near his stomach. His large sleeves gave way, revealing the etched marks and even as they pulse green, his form erupted in green light, exploding out till it engulfed the entire estate.

The King buckled, his arms wrapping around his wife and child as the men began to shout, and darting away from whatever it was the demon man unleashed.

“Hear me, O great King; for your impudence, I place your most beloved under this curse. You will be reduced to nothing but a fixture; your entire household will be mere pawns to be used by commoners. And your daughter,” The smirk widened, finding the small girl who still hid, now visible to everyone as their horrified gazes found the young princess.

“Your daughter will be left all alone. Her beauty will now be gone, her temperament destroyed. She will be feared, loathed, a monstrosity that will live with your enchantment.”

“She is a child! You are hurting a child!” Finally, an anguished wail escaped the Queen but the wizards over spoke her, drowning her words.

“At the age of twenty and three, she will be rendered thus permanently. Not a thing but the truest of love can rescue her and break my curse. Only the one who will look past her form will win that honor.”

The light faded with the man’s silhouette, the only thing that remained in the blazing glimmer of the settling curse. Movement ceased, the fire died into its embers…

“You will soon find that I am the only man who is merciful and worthy enough.”

These last words echoes in the halls, sealing through the stone and glass until another sound replaced it.

The screams of a terrified little girl…

Time seemed to flow like water after the screams died.

Nobody took courage to go up to the Palace, find their rulers…the town forgot they even had rulers. Administration moved into common hands, spread to the citizens and the legend of the lost royal family became a ghost story.

The path to Blackthorn Creek remained abandoned, silent, and derelict.

In the town of course, the ghost story didn’t matter. Life had moved on, become busy, become full of bustle.

Park Jimin threw the doors of his father’s work room open, sticking his head in to check once on the aging man.

“Father, I’m out to the baker’s. Shall I bring back something?”

There was no answer from his father, just a distant sigh that said there was nothing that could be brought back that would satisfy him.

Jimin drew back, unable to curb his rising disappointment. There was something in the slump of his father’s shoulders, ever since they’d moved into the developing town of Blackthorn Creek that, as much as the exuberant Jimin tried, he simply couldn’t shake.

Perhaps, it was his mother’s death that took their house and worldly belongings. Perhaps it was the sinking of his father’s patent ship, causing such debt that there was no hope to pay it back with nothing to put up for interest.

The Park family had to relocate from their luxury in France to the eastern countryside, to this small place. It had taken all the merry from his father’s life.

Jimin, however, worked hard to keep his spirits up. This was a setback yes, but his father was a genius. He was sure to come up with another pitch that would work out. And even if he didn’t; well, Jimin would always be there to take care of his beloved father.

A basket in hand, Jimin cocked his hat, setting out for the day.

The town, as small as it was, was full of life around midday. The market bustled, the streets running with people and the pub was always open, till as late as it could get.

But even through the color, there were shades of grey. The cheerful Creek had one mighty legend; one of the local royals’ disappearance. There was a long winded street that was barred from the public, leading up to a small hill, behind which there was said to be the palace.

He had taken these myths with a small smile, aimed at the person trying to call for his attention with these stories.

But even he had to admit, such tales of mystique piqued his fancy in the most delightful way. France had been exciting, especially for a young man such as himself. Plucking him out and placing him in a much smaller world where things were…stagnant, did cause something of a blow to his vigor.

Jimin stopped, contemplating the bookshop that lay just at the edge of the forbidden path. He had a few books still remaining back home, left to be read – but perhaps, he could squeeze in another couple?

“My boy,” The shopkeeper chuckled at the frown on the young man’s face. “Are you done with those piles that you took already?”

“Not quite, sir,” Jimin grinned. “I might just pop by again soon enough.”

The shopkeeper gave him a toothy grin, watching the man glance in some wonder at the blocked off road. The mountains had already started to grow slick with frost – sign of another passing winter. “Here,” he said suddenly.

Jimin stuttered in his forward steps, retracing back to where the stooping elder held out a pale bound tome from the front window. “Sir,” he raised his eyes in puzzlement.

“It’s a little something special I had lying about collecting dust. It was surprising that this one hasn’t caught your eye as of yet but I’m sure you will enjoy it.”

Jimin gave the friendly man a smile, letting the soft book fall open upon his palms, sifting through the delicate pages. “What’s it about?”

“The very thing you’re so curious about; lost princesses, brave knights, curses, fairies…” The book keeper burst out laughing at the soft blush that crept along Jimin’s cheeks. “You don’t need to be coy, son. Our little legend is bound to attract someone.”

“I must thank you sir. I will return it as soon as I’m done.”

“Oh by all means, keep it. It’s better suited to your hands than the shelves in this old place.”

Jimin blinked. “That’s a generous gift. I hope I do it justice.”

“I’m sure you will. Now off with you; the market isn’t going to stay open all day.” The man waved Jimin off, returning to his shop.

Jimin found himself quickly immersed in the fantasy, the short stories of courage, chivalry, sacrifice and fire keeping his nose well buried in the musty pages as he found the daily shopping that he was required to do.

All was well, until the book was snatched out of his hands, a giggle soon to follow.

“Hello stranger.”

“Hyebin,” Jimin sighed, looking around to where the young girl had snapped the book shut decisively.

Hyebin had been the girl to whom Jimin owed most of his knowledge of the town. Raven haired, slim and tall, she was the beauty of the town, sister to one of the most renowned hunters in the nearby vicinity – Kai. He and his sister had taken over most of the social scene of the town, near to becoming the law itself.

And Hyebin had her eyes set on Jimin ever since he set foot within the pub; by proxy, leading her brother to pester him with offers of her hand.

“May I have my book back?”

Pale glimmering lips pouted at him, the book still clutched in her hands. “You never pay attention to me, Jimin. Not when you have books about,” she said.

“Of course that’s not the case.” The man said smoothly.

“It is so. What’s so special about books anyway?” Hyebin took a step further back, too quick for Jimin’s reaching fingers. She pried the book open rudely. “They don’t lead to too much around here.”

“There’s more to books than just material gain, Hyebin.” Jimin was becoming impatient – his eyes fixed on the way her nails dug into the delicate binding.

“If you say so, when we’re married; would you still pay more attention to books than me?”

Jimin dearly wanted to say that that would never happen but he settled for resignedly bouncing on his toes. “What if I read to you?”

“I’d fall asleep.”

“I see.” This time Jimin moved fast, hands grabbing the book from Hyebin’s distracted hold long enough to fall back a safe distance. “I need to go back home. Give your brother my best.”

By the time he got home, his father had put away his new working equipment, instead pacing about in the handkerchief living room.

“Father,” Jimin greeted, putting up his hat.

“Son, how…how was the day?” His father stopped marching, coming up to take the basket of shopping from him.

“Normal, had to dodge Hyebin as usual,” he muttered, making his father chuckle.

“One of these days that girl will marry you still.”

“Such a horrifying thought,”

“Then let me put you to ease.” Mr. Park put his hands on Jimin’s shoulders, making his son look him in the eyes. “There has been some development. The ship that I lost at sea, a year ago, has been heard from. I have been called to attest to it.”

Jimin took a moment to process the news, watching his father’s eyes light up with something that was fearfully hopeful. “Do you mean that --?”

“Possibly; if it is true, we can go back to our old lives again! Think of it, Jimin! Paris, France, the beautiful sprawling house that we had to give up. Your education…” The man smiled affectionately, “We’ll have to find you a lady to wed who is at par with you.”

“Father,”

“I set off tonight! It will be a day’s journey but I know you can watch over things here.”

Jimin watched as his father hurriedly moved to the door, a coat and hat finding their way on his body and his cane and horse whip clasped to his breast. “Wish well for us, my son, our lives could be soon close to change. Do you wish for me to bring you anything back?”

“No father, just you,” Jimin bid farewell to his father, watching him disappear within the small stable to gallop away.

When Mr. Park had set out for the harbor, his spirits had been up soaring in the clouds, visions of his life returning to him in his previous splendor. Now, stood at the wooden ledge, watching crestfallen as merchants, traders, moneylenders, once his friends but now…now they had gathered around his returned goods and scavenged and distributed everything among themselves.

“Your debts are clear, Park.”

“Jimin won’t have to be in debt to us anymore, sir.”

“Go back home sir,”

Just words…nothing more, no comfort found his heart when he straddled his horse again, starting the long trek home.

The horse wouldn’t gallop, possibly sensing its master’s indolence and Mr. Park was overcome with a sudden wave of gratefulness for the animal. After all, he would have to strengthen his bones; he had to deliver the news to Jimin.

The idea of disappointing his son was probably more harrowing than that of losing his wealth yet again.

At least now they were free from debt.

There was a small whinny, attracting the older man’s attention as he looked up to see which path he was on. It was long, thin, winding up a hill he had never seen before in his life.

“Hey boy, I think we took the wrong way.” He patted the horse’s head, before getting off, grabbing the reins. “Let’s find a way out.”

A few miles in, Mr. Park stopped, short of breath.

“Where in the world are we?” He growled low, ignoring the shuddering animal behind him as he trudged on when a high, pitched sound made them both freeze.

A wolf’s howl…

There were wolves around. Mr. Park was alone with no weapons and no idea of where he was. His horse let out a sound of protest again.

“Damn it all too hell,” Mr. Park quickly climbed the horse, kicking it to speed. “Take off, boy; we don’t have any time to lose.”

His ride raised back its front legs, before racing down the way they had come.

Jimin had been anxious all day, toiling in the small garden that his father had managed to build in the front of their house. Sweat had gathered his dark hair into clumps, matting his eyes so when he hear the familiar whinny of Geureum, the horse, he smiled naturally – relieved that his father was finally back home.

“Ah father, nice to –,” he turned, his smile vanishing slowly when he saw the horse alone, pawing his hooves into the dirt, snorting impatiently.

“Geureum, where is he?” Jimin grabbed for the horse’s reins, pulling it closer to soothe it. “Where is Father?”

All Geureum did was shake his head roughly, stepping back and forth.

“Can you show me where he is, huh, boy? Come on,” He slipped his foot in the stirrup, hauling himself into the saddle. “Take me to him, Geureum.”

Geureum stopped only once when he reached a huge, wrought iron gate, roses and swans intricately welded to the metal, now rusty from disuse.

Something had prickled Jimin’s hairline when Geureum had approached the blockaded hill up to the legendary Blackthorn Creek palace but the horse had circumvented it, riding up a much thinner path up.

Jimin slipped off of the horse, patting Geureum on the side. “Stay here, boy.”

And then…with a creek that echoed through the cold night, he entered the palace, walking through huge oaken double doors to find his father.

He had to admit, for a second, standing in the atrium of the castle, he was struck by how grand it must have been. The ceiling peaked, now broken in with many of the granite slabs gone, the starry night sky clearly visible. Dirt and mud had accumulated on the marble floors, muffling the clicks of his boots just a bit.

“Father,” he called loudly before cursing to himself.

What if someone heard him? He wasn’t exactly supposed to be here.

Jimin shook his head. Who would hear him? It was a deserted castle with its family long gone. There probably had never been a family; the town had probably spun a yarn to make it special to tourists.

He crept up grand staircase, sticking close to the rails.

“Father,” he called again.

“Jimin…?”

He whirled, looking around for the source of the sound. “Yes, father it’s me.” He ventured, noticing a hand slipping out from the bars of a door. “Father!” He dropped to his knees in front of the door.

“Jimin, what are you doing here? You can’t be here, you have to leave!” His father was wailing from within, his hands grasping air in search for Jimin.

“What are you saying? Of course, I had to come! Who did this to you?”

“No! Don’t you see, Jimin? It’s true, the legends, the stories, they’re true!”

“What is true? Father, tell me who did this to you?”

“The monster; there is a monster in this castle!”

Jimin paused in trying to pry the door open, widened eyes swiveling to his father’s outstretched hands. “What?”

“It’s true! Please you have to leave! It’s dangerous!”

“Father, that can’t possibly be true!” Jimin said adamantly only to be proven wrong the next second.

A roar that sent Jimin’s hair rising to its ends erupted, echoing around the cavernous halls. A heavy weight landed on his shoulder, throwing him away from the door.

“What are you doing here?”

If there was a god, Jimin had better start praying to it, he thought, cowering away from the hunkering shadow that loomed over him. All he could discern were bright yellow eyes, slanting dark pupils glaring at him and the appendage his father had left hanging out the bars.

“Jimin!” His father chose to shout at the very moment.

Jimin watched the – the – thing – rise upon its legs, prowling further in but still remaining in the dark corner. “What are you doing here?” It asked again.

Jimin blinked slowly, trying to make sense of what was happening to him. Here he was, in an allegedly cursed castle. His father was locked up, raving about monsters and now he was face to face with what appeared to be a huge animal…only, it talked like a human.

“I…I came for my father.” Jimin stuttered, trying to push himself back up.

The yellow eyes flickered, between Jimin and his father, before creeping back into the shadows. “You came in vain. The prisoner will not be released.”

“No wait!” Jimin called, shuffling to his feet as the figure began to draw back. “You can’t keep him here like this! He’s an old man, he’ll die!”

“THEN HE SHOULDN’T HAVE TRESPASSED IN MY HOME!”

Jimin froze at the sudden roar, managing to grab onto his father’s hands finally. This was real. The legend was true. The people living in the castle were monsters, cursed.

“Your…please – I’ll do anything.”

“No! He’ll stay here, locked up because he couldn’t keep his hands to himself.” The monster began to disappear.

“Take me.” Jimin took a step forward.

The figure paused.

“What, Jimin, no – no, listen, you can’t do this!” His father yelled.

“I mean it. You take me, let him go.” Every word strengthened in his throat, conviction pushing him forward till he was barely a meter away from the monster.

“You – You’d do that? You’d stay here, in exchange for him?”

Jimin met its eye. Bright yellow to Jimin’s deep brown, when it stepped finally into the small lighted part.

Coarse, shaggy fur coated a huge, lumbering form. The bright yellow eyes that seemed so unnerving were set in a canvas of a ferocious face, the fur streaked with grey and black, a huge snout for a nose and huge fangs that protruded from its mouth.

A lesser man would’ve burst a lung screaming at the horrifying sight but Jimin managed to hide his face, backing up till he could feel his father trying to clutch at the back of his shirt.

“I…I would. Let him go and you can take me.” Jimin finally said and he was proud to say that his voice remained steady.

There was a ringing moment of doubt, flickering in the golden orbs of the monster, before with a growl it raised its paw. Jimin flinched, cringing away from the blow but it never fell. Instead, he heard a dull, metallic thunk and the heavy padlock fell to his feet.

Mr. Park fell out; the door giving way under his weight and he clung to Jimin. “No, no, please, don’t take him, keep me – I have nothing to live for anymore but my son has a whole life.” His father begged to the monster but the only reply they got was a ferocious roar. “GET OUT! If you value your life and your son’s, leave; or I will kill you both!”

The monster turned on an enormous heel, stomping back into the darkness.

The tower that Jimin was pushed into had one small window, a little too high for him to reach, but he managed to hike his nimble body up till he swung from the ledge. His fingers reddened from the strain but when he finally peeked through the window, he just barely caught the end of a huge cart, led by a snorting and neighing Geureum.

He dropped from the ledge, landing squarely on his feet upon the uneven flagstone and cursed, running two hands through his ruffled hair.

“Hello sir,”

Jimin jumped, whirling around at the smooth voice that sounded nothing like the awful grate of the monster’s growl.

“Right down here.”

Jimin backed up as far as he could against the wall before casting his eyes downwards. There was nothing on the floor, soft moss growing within the cracks with one slightly buffed up candelabrum left behind.

“Hello,” the voice said again.

“Where are you? Look, I’m not scared of anything anymore so you’re doing nothing,”

“Of course not, sir, it’s me…Kim Seokjin, the…” a sigh, “the candle holder.”

Jimin took a shuddering breath, before very slowly diverting his eyes to the golden instrument on the ground.

It wasn’t very huge, just barely above average but the sweeping extensions made it seem bigger than it needed to be. Dripping wax clung to its arms where the candles stuck, the gold sheen pale yet glinting in the bare light. Just on the handle, there was an etching…just like one of a face. Even as Jimin watched, the candles lit up, making him flinch.

“Please follow me, sir.”

Jimin gulped.

“Follow you where?”

The candelabrum, to Jimin’s astonished eyes, seemed to turn on the base.

“The Mistress is installing you in a room of your own. The household doubts you want to stay in the tower.” There was something caustic about the smooth tone of the thing. It made Jimin almost bristle and refute before he looked around the tower he was put in.

It was one of the spindle shaped ones, too thin and a little rickety. The window that he had tried to peek out was the single one allowing light in and he could feel some vertigo setting in already, if the nausea was anything to go by.

“Fine – lead the way.” He said.

Jimin had already gauged that the palace had been luxuriant in its time but now, walking quietly through the long hallways with…an animate object bouncing along in front of him, he had to admit; that the ruin that now faced him didn’t seem adjacent to what the palace must have been before.

The stone, now greenish grey had gnarled carvings etched into them. The statues that stood at corners had most of their heads broken or missing and the small beam that the candles gave off only made him all the more unsettled.

“We know it’s a little…dull – around here but we hope you’ll like it.” It was as if the thing knew what was going on in Jimin’s head.

“You said ‘we’…and ‘household’ before…but except for you…and…well, the monster,” Jimin stopped talking when the candelabrum winced.

“You…might want to be careful about that. The Mistress is sensitive and none of the people in the castle will appreciate you calling her that.”

Jimin nearly tripped on his feet when he finally processed something. “That…that thing is a she?”

He was ignored. The candelabrum stopped in front of one of the doors, double door, handles of glum silver. “This is going to be your room, sir.” Jimin didn’t answer, quietly reaching for the handle and turning it, letting himself in cautiously.

The room wasn’t lighted, most of the darkness only marred by the light streaming from a glass window. He could spy a bed at best.

Jimin was about to step in further, squinting his eyes when he heard a loud creak, possibly a considerable weight upon a floorboard and then the clink of metal.

“If you don’t like the room, we can move you.” He heard but instead of the smooth, cool voice of the candelabrum, it was gruff, low and sullen.

He whirled to see a huge part of a shadow standing well back into the room. A heavy cloak wrapped up the body, concealing it further within the darkness.

Jimin didn’t speak as the form lumbered to the open door.

“Your needs will be seen to here. My servants will attend to you.” There was a pause before it took hold of the door. “And you will meet me for dinner; every night.”

The slam of the door made Jimin jump; his immediate reaction was to run to the door and look through the keyhole. There were footsteps and a murmur of conversation but aside from that, the entire palace seemed silent.

Jimin huffed, walking over to the window to open it, casting a furtive look outside and letting out a scornful laughter. He was a good way up the ground. Jumping from the window would mean certain death and even if he only escaped, it would be with broken bones and with no horse.

He doubted the ‘Mistress’ would nurse him back to health.

“My sweetest sister,” A finger brushed under the supple cheek of Hyebin, turning her attention to her brother who loomed over her at the counter of the pub. “What has you down?”

Hyebin pouted, throwing Kai’s hand off. “I went by Park Jimin’s house this evening to see if he would take a turn with me. He wasn’t there. The house was empty.”

“Maybe he went off with that father of his.”

“Why would he? There is nothing to do for him.”

Kai cast a glance at his grumpy sister, feeling the brewing of an odd emotion that he had had for her for months now. It was a mixture of pity, annoyance and yet the unyielding need to present whatever she wanted on a golden platter. He knew that Jimin did not return even half of a quarter of affection that his sister had and while he was annoyed at her overzealous devotion, he knew that she would never falter.

She got her stubbornness from him, after all.

Now, there may be better men for Hyebin than Jimin, but she wanted him and Jimin would marry her – Kai would see to it.

“Sister,” he began.

“You promised, Kai! You promised me you would make him marry me. You don’t love me. You can’t even do this much for me!”

“Now, now, dearest,”

Hyebin’s face had reddened; her hair crackling as she swelled like a bullfrog, ready to rail at her brother when the doors on the pub crashed open, with Mr. Park falling, raving against it.

“Help,” he panted, grasping at whatever was close at hand to heave himself up. “Help, my son, my son please.”

Heads turned, eyes falling to the soaked man as snow melted and pooled around his boots, the cloak wet and snug around his head. His eyes shifted from one astonished face to another, growing more restless.

“Please! I need help. My son has been taken by a monster!”

Behind him, Kai heard Hyebin’s squawk of indignation die down, releasing instead a dainty gasp. He watched the loony man walk around, trying to clutch at the sleeves of the patrons who shook him off with scoffs until he neared the siblings, finally tumbling at Kai’s elbow.

“Please, Kai, my last hope – you…have to help. My son, my only son – gone! – taken! – I can’t take this.”

Hyebin shrunk away from the delirious old man, bundling her dress to her knees even as Kai shook his arm free. “What’s the matter, Mr. Park? Be a little clear.”

“The monster of the palace took Jimin! Trapped him in the big castle on the hill…I couldn’t do anything!”

There was a pause as Kai furrowed his brow, before a patron shouted. “Leave him, Kai. He’s probably mad with the cold!”

“I am not!” Mr. Park immediately protested, wringing roughly at the coat before slumping his head and walking out the pub, defeated. They could hear wails of anguish in the cold winds outside but none were met with sympathy.

“He ran away!” Hyebin finally screeched, sinking her nails in her brother’s arms, ire flaming again.

Kai didn’t answer, letting his arm lax while his thoughtful expression slowly merged into that of a smirk. “Hyebin, my sweet; you might just get to marry Park Jimin after all.”

Jimin didn’t know when he’d dozed off. It must have been the exhaustion of the day, the pressure, the sorrow but he had curled up in one of the dusty armchairs, closed his eyes for possibly a second, only to gather his thoughts. Now he woke up to a pitch black room, stars visible from the window and he knew it was very late into the night.

His back had cramped in his position, obliging him to get off when he heard the gentle knock on the door. He took a wary stance, waiting for the doors to be barged into but to no avail. It was probably Seokjin the candle holder, Jimin decided, going to open the door.

“My now, I thought you’d wait for all the milk to go cold before you opened the door.”

Anticipating it, Jimin was already looking to the floor, only to be met by what looked like a tea set. He watched eyes boggling as the tea pot, a tall, sleek work with a rotund belly hobbled into the room, followed by a cup, and a sugar bowl.

“Um, what…who – are you now?” He asked.

“I’m the head cook, boy. Min Yoongi’s the name, also known as the best damn teapot in the kingdom. This right here,” the snout of the teapot tipped down to the cup, “is Taehyung, the assistant cook but not the best cup even in the room because he can’t keep himself on one stupid shelf.”

“Yah Hyung,” the cup opened at its seam, as if they were lips. “Don’t be mean.”

“I wasn’t going to come at all but I can’t leave you alone. Now then to business, boy; the Princess is taking a late supper so you can eat with her. You can have some milk before you go. You look like you’ve been crying and you’re just going to upset her.”

“Upset her?” Jimin glared, as the tea cup, filled with milk jumped into his reluctant hand. “I am the one trapped here.”

“Look on the bright side.” The teapot waved its spout and all the tea materials gathered in one line, heading out the door. “There’s a splendid welcome supper to be had. Come Taehyung.” He called as he exited.

“Oh but,” the tea cup sloshed some of its content onto Jimin’s hands when it jumped down, skidding across the stone before the door shut again. The sounds of the tea cup’s protests reached Jimin even through the heavy door.

Jimin wiped his hands of his trousers, grumbling at the way he made a mess when he backed against something large.

“No need to worry, young sir. Wardrobe is always here to help!”

Golden but dusty doors banged Jimin on the face, nearly tossing him onto the floor as the wardrobe advanced, rows and rows of pristine, shiny outfits ready to be worn. Jimin gasped, clutching his nose in pain as he shook his head.

“Many apologies! It’s been a while since I’ve been opened for any event at all. I am Jung Hoseok, the royal master of robes. Please do look through the selection to pick something out. I daresay you’ll want to change out of your outfit for dinner.”

“No thanks,” Wincing, Jimin managed to get to his feet. “I’m not going to dinner with Princess Monster down there.”

“Oh dear,” he heard the wardrobe as he crossed his arms, turning to the window to glare out of it.

The long dining table had been decked out for the first time in fifteen years. Silk cloths had been draped over the mahogany, candles put up, torches wiped and lit, plates and tableware sparkled in the dancing flame of the fireplace.

Yet, none of the chairs had been pulled back.

Seokjin and Yoongi, watched, anxious as the Mistress of the Castle, their Princess prowled in front of the table, each paw taking further weight from your animal bulk.

“Your highness, perhaps…you should sit and wait.” Seokjin suggested.

“No; I will wait for the man.” You said. Your voice had dipped down to a warning growl but your household items…your staff had never been very afraid of you.

Maybe they had, once, when you had first transformed and not taken to what you had become. A monster, a huge, hunkering loathsome thing which wanted to claw and destroy anything that stood in its wake…

It had taken years, but you had somewhat been ‘tamed’ since then.

“Princess, please, do consider that if we play our cards right, this man could be your salvation.”

“You think I don’t know that? I do…I know that but…how can he be if he won’t even come to dinner?”

“Perhaps also take into consideration that the boy is trapped here. He won’t see his father or his previous life again.” Jin’s statement wasn’t met with any geniality, instead the candelabrum found himself in the vice grip of his Mistress.

“Then what should I do? Do I throw him out? Let him leave so he can bring back a mob? No! I won’t do anything and if he wants to be difficult, I can be too.”

“We know that, your highness.” Yoongi said, his spout quivering. “We just have to remember to keep our tempers in check.”

The last statement was spoken pointedly and the monster blinked its huge yellow eyes, looking down to where you were almost squeezing your Maitre ‘D. You dropped the candle holder, Seokjin bouncing back a few steps when the door to the dinner room opened.

“Ah, there he is.” Yoongi’s belly turned, the porcelain splitting into a smile.

You turned, eyes trained in anticipation but what peeked in was an ornate long grandfather clock, its rose gold arms clasping the door in trepidation.

“Namjoon, where is the boy?” Seokjin asked immediately.

The royal advisor hemmed, glancing anxiously at the bunched up bulk of the Princess. “He says, he won’t be coming, your highness.”

There was a ringing silence, torn by the groans of Yoongi and Seokjin before you stood up, your clawed feet digging into the stone floor so hard it hurt.

“Fine, if he wants to be so stubborn then let him have his consequences too. Yoongi, you will bar the kitchens. He will not eat anything unless he first comes to me.”

“Princess, we can’t woo a dead man.” Namjoon said calmly but you were already dropping down from an upright position to what you were used to, on all four feet, crouching.

“I don’t care! Just…just let him starve! I don’t care if we find bones in his room.”

The three items converged, all talking together and you slammed a paw on the table, shredding the cloth. “Enough; let me go!” You roared before taking off, leaping over their heads so you could head and lock yourself in your quarters.

The silence that brushed up and closed around you as soon as the doors shut behind you and automatically locked was bliss. Yet your mind was anything but.

Hateful thoughts swirled in your mind, mostly aimed at yourself, some at the enthusiasm that your staff seemed to show for this new addition to your home and finally, venom spilling out to the man who had now entombed himself in one of your best rooms but couldn’t even show the decency to come down for dinner.

What was so difficult about dinner?

And why was he allowed to shut himself in his room when all your life you had been told to never hide yourself from the rest of the house?

Granted, all your people were now objects, magical but still just objects. Your parents had been turned to statues, forced to weather out in the overrun gardens and you had been raised by Seokjin, Yoongi, Hoseok and Namjoon mostly. Children your age; Taehyung and Jungkook had hated you in the beginning and you had never sought them out yourself.

Over time, Taehyung had forgiven you but Jungkook turned to a Duster never saw you, working quietly where you would never tread.

The rest of your household never came forward and said it; having never witnessed the event that had transformed you all but the malice was palpable. The rejection hurt, you were a child shunned and you sprouted claws much too early for anybody’s liking but you had tried.

You had tried, before giving up. You gave up because nothing happened. Fifteen years and no prince came; no fairy godmothers pointed their wands at you. The wizard never came back to see if his spell wrecked you.

All the stories that showed that Princesses would be rescued fell short at one crucial juncture.

No one told the story about the cursed princess who was ugly, who was a monster, who wasn’t the pale skinned beauty in a glass case or silk bed.

No, nobody came to save the ugly princess and over time you learned to see yourself just that.

This man – this Jimin, would be no exception.

“After all, what’s to love?” You muttered.

You vowed not to weep. Not for a man, not for the humanity that judged who was worthy of love.

Jimin had dozed off again. When he woke, it was with a start, groggy and fumbling in his movements. This was a bad habit. He needed to collect his wits about himself. Maybe it was the magic of the castle but he had to remember that he wasn’t safe in here, no matter how friendly and polite everyone…everything was being.

Somehow, in his slumber, the torches in the room had been lit, casting the place in a dazzling golden glow. The chair he had fallen asleep in again was pushed right to the edge of the room, near the window. He spied that the bed had been made with brocade bedding, surfaces had been dusted and to his surprise there was a pool at the very centre, filled with clear, almost glittering water.

Jimin’s stomach, having refused dinner with the Monster out of pride was already protesting, tossing him out of the chair in the direction of the pool. Maybe a cool drink would cheer and lift his spirits.

He sat at the engraved stone border, looking down at his haggard expression in the water, running a hand through the pool, cupping the soothing liquid up to his lips.

The minute the water passed his lips, a new sense of relief and rejuvenation passed his body, coursing through him as though adrenaline itself. Jimin got to his feet, looking about if he could ask the Wardrobe – Hoseok – where he could go to find food.

He found the spot empty, instead there stood a mannequin. On it, hung was a brand new outfit; a white spotless shirt, black trousers and blue silk coat. The mannequin stood lifeless even as Jimin stripped it, and then with apprehension brewing at his belly at accepting the gift, himself. However, unease had to wait; he was soaked, cold, and soiled. He would fall sick at that rate and then all his plans of escape would shatter. He also didn’t want to be indebted to the castle in any way.

So with a bite at his pride, he put on the outfit before pressing his ears to the door, listening for any movement. He couldn’t hear the pounds of the Princess’s paws, the clatter of any objects moving, no conversation, nothing at all.

Wary in his gait, he stepped out, keeping a light foot to lead him on when something whimpered from his side.

Jimin jumped, whirling in anticipation of roars, of overwhelming friendliness but instead a small pair of eyes beamed up at him from behind a moth eaten curtain. Running a hand over his panicking heart, Jimin’s lips tugged into a soft smile.

“Hello there,” he cooed at the pup that ventured out the curtain with three more at its tail.

“Oh, wow, puppies.” Jimin wanted to laugh at the simplicity, at the adorableness but the pups only let out soft gurgles, wrapping paws around Jimin’s legs, trying to nudge him along.

“What is it? Where are you taking me?”

Jimin allowed him to be prodded and nudged along by four small dogs, along the hallway, down the stairs and through another until he was pushing open a door, clearly the kitchen.

“Oh my,” his eyes fell first to the teapot on a wooden table, followed by the grandfather clock and candle holder he’d seen already. “What are you doing here? How did you,”

The teapot stopped when he saw the four puppies cuddling around Jimin’s feet, something of a softness melting the intricate seam of it. “Ah, of course,”

“Forgive me, I didn’t know. I was just hungry.” Jimin shyly dipped his head, knowing he was probably trespassing on some late night gossip among the staff.

“No, no, of course you’re hungry, you did show some nerve. It must’ve made you ravenous.” Seokjin bobbed towards him, wrapping a gold arm around his coat tails, dragging him to the table.

“Don’t worry, sir. We’ve spoken with the Mistress. She’s going to show some leniency. She won’t come down to dinner the same time as you do…unless you request it.” Namjoon the clock lied smoothly.

Jimin was sat at the table by Seokjin, a napkin pressed at him by the teapot as dishes and plates of food began to dance around the length of the table, piling upon the plate presented to him to eat.

“I…thank you.” Jimin frowned, unable to think of anything more to say.

“You may also wander the castle and grounds as you wish. One of us will always be found around and the Guides,” Yoongi pointed its spout at the four pups that stood lined near the door, “will be your companions mostly.”

Jimin looked down at the hearty meal in front of him before digging in. “That will be very nice. Thank you.” He said around a mouthful of potatoes.

True to their words, the castle and grounds were left wide open for the curious Jimin. He woke up to a wonderful outfit slung on the mannequin; suits, coats, wonderful silks and soft cashmeres to drape over his body. The wardrobe – Hoseok, had returned, helping Jimin dress for the day’s adventures.

Jimin would eat breakfast in his room, sitting at the edge of the pool where – he wondered if it was his imagination – the water seemed to move to entertain him. He would climb over stiles; sniff the glowing flowers, count stars and fireflies if he stayed out too late. The castle, upon inspection was vast. Huge statues imposed upon him, Grecian, roman and baroque architecture worked itself seamlessly in the palace and he had fun listening to Namjoon talking about each was worked in or acquired.

He was very rarely alone.

The Guides, as the staff called the small pups were always with him. He had learned their names from Taehyung, the tea cup. The fluffy brown one was Holly, a pair of small Pomeranians that shaded darker was Mickey and Yeontan and then finally a pure white one named Monnie.

They led him in and out the lands, sometimes through a grotto where the only thing that nestled was a pair of entwined huge statues. He had stopped and stared up at them for quite a while. They were probably the biggest in the entire castle, both wearing a pained, sorrowed expression that bore Jimin’s own heart down. He didn’t venture in that particular grotto again. It felt too…private somehow.

Jimin was given dinner in the main dining room, the long table decked out only for him. He would sometimes cast a look upon the opposite chair, feeling lonely even if he had multiple entities to talk to.

The Princess never came upon in Jimin’s presence for days. He could sometimes hear the paws of her feet on the floor when he was roaming about, but she never once tried to impose herself on him. It was almost as if she watched him watch her home from afar.

Something in Jimin tugged when he thought about home, how he had completely left behind his straggly little town for this palatial world. He missed his father terribly yes, but here in the estate that he was free to roam, with people whose knowledge he was free to peck at, the silence had turned blissful very quickly.

Thoughts of escape never strayed further from his mind but for now, he wanted to stay cocooned in this silence.

It was almost two weeks till he was made aware of the very real presence of the mysterious Princess. He was used to her being a phantom by now so when the Guides playfully nipped at each other, chasing down a corridor, Jimin followed at ease, not feeling the pricks of unease until he reached the darker end of the corridor.

It was a whole quarter, possibly belonging to one of the royal family. He peeked into the empty bath before venturing further into the darkened opening.

The palace that had been warmed by fire for their new guest – or prisoner, however Jimin wanted to look at it had failed here. There was an odd chill running through the walls, as if someone had sucked the temperature and doused the room in ice.

The furniture was all dusty, clearly not attended to, and silver and cream paint peeled from the walls. He could almost spy the moss that collected in the cracks of the walls before he came to stand in front of the wall of paintings.

Each and every face on the walls, Jimin noted had been slashed. It was a brutal mutilation, clearly from the Princess’s claws. There was one painting that remained, of what had to be the royal couple. A tall, regal man stood at the side of an equally prim lady who sat on an armchair. One of his hands clasped her shoulders while hers held on to a young child, poised delicately upon her knee.

The child, a girl wasn’t having it though. He could tell the struggle of her flailing arms and kicking feet yet her face was void of distress. Instead he stared at the laughing, playing child, baby curls fluttering around her ears, thick fingers and chubby cheeks – the full deal. A small golden tiara nestled upon her head, crooked from her movement.

The picture was so happy; it brought a catch to Jimin’s throat, looking back up at the couple, tearing his eyes from the once human Princess. There was something hauntingly familiar about the faces yet Jimin couldn’t put his finger on it.

So engrossed he was, in staring at the pictures, moving on to where he tried to put together shredded pieces of the painting together that he failed to notice the silence. There was no yapping of the puppies to be heard and this silence was anything but comfortable.

When the door squeaked open, Jimin turned, coming face to face with the monster who had been diligently avoiding him. Half her furry face was shadowed, but he could tell from the single wide open yellow eye that he wasn’t an expected sight.

The eyes darted from his face to his hands, placed upon the paintings. Jimin had barely opened his mouth, to apologize, to explain, perhaps to snap but the Princess had already dropped to her haunches, a low growl ripping through the back of her throat.

“WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING? HOW DARE YOU COME HERE?”

Jimin stumbled back, pressing against the wall as the monstrous Princess leapt, scrambling towards the paintings and covering them up.

“I…I was just,”

“LEAVE! I WANT YOU OUT. GO! NOW,”

Jimin had heard enough and it presented a brilliant opportunity to him. She wanted him to leave. He could leave.

So quick he was, sidestepping the crouching girl that he had no time to see her fall to the floor, the cloak that covered and hid her body wrapped protectively around as a whimper replaced her roars. The Princess’s sobs never reached Jimin’s ears.

He didn’t wait to find any of the household staff. He knew that they would ultimately attempt to stop him, try to make sense of the Princess’s commands. So he hurried down the stairs and out the side to where he’d found the stables.

His own Geureum was gone, with his father but he yanked on the reins of a white stallion; titled Jjangu on his crest. Jimin saddled the panicking horse blindly, patting it only once to soothe it before he was mounting and taking off in the distance of the town.

Your roaring yells had reached the ears of the household, of course. Namjoon was the first to respond, sliding into the royal quarters; his wooden stand skidding as he found you curled up under the one painting that you couldn’t bring yourself to destroy.

It was your family portrait, commissioned just two years before your lives would change forever and while you had torn up every picture of your face that hung up, you couldn’t destroy your parent’s.

Namjoon could tell from the shudders that shook your form that you were just finishing crying. Propriety dictated that he wouldn’t trespass on a royal in distress but you were his charge, he had raised you, taught you, attempted to feed you since he could bring your fear and panic at being transformed into a beast to heel.

“Princess…Y/N,” He coaxed, golden bars running through the shaggy mass where your hair would be. His heart ached at the soft sniffles that sounded too loud because you…you weren’t human after all.

“I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not. And it’s okay to not be, you won’t be less of a person for your troubles.”

You raised your head with a deep scoffing laugh. “I am not a person, Namjoon. I’m a monster; a loathsome creature.”

The clock ticked angrily but didn’t prod the issue. “The boy -,”

“Left; I scared him off. That’s that then.”

Namjoon shook his head, casting a glance out to where the snow had become wilder, until only white could be seen. “Your highness, he left in a terrible condition. He’ll get lost.”

“I don’t care.”

“Princess, Namjoon,” Two heads turned to where Seokjin rushed in, candles burning on his many wicks. “The boy, Jimin, he has taken off on your horse! He’s taken Jjangu.”

“WHAT IN THE WORLD?” You screeched loudly enough for both grown men…objects to flinch. “MY HORSE…HOW COULD HE DARE, HE -,”

“Princess, the wolves, if the wolves find them, it will be too late,” Seokjin murmured softly.

There was a heavy pregnant pause in which Namjoon and Seokjin stared at their Mistress, holding her shaggy head aloft as if she was praying for pity. Finally, under the gaze of your caretakers and advisors, you slumped, admitting defeat.

“Alright, alright, I suppose we can’t leave him to die in the blizzard.”

When you had first transformed, a howl had been the first thing that had scared you. Your small hands and feet had turned into paws, huge claws protruding from the nails. Your hair seemed to grow everywhere until you were taught that it was fur, too coarse and too matted to be what had been a well taken care of head of hair.

Your first memories after the transformation had been running away, tripping and falling multiple times because you weren’t used to your new body until Namjoon and Yoongi had found you, cowering under a broken branch. Howls had pushed you into a scared ball and when they’d found you, they’d spoken. You could still remember a clock and a teapot trying to act brave as a single wolf, too big and gleaming in the moonlight curled back its lips, issuing the threat that had locked you in your castle forever.

Of course, with age and your guardian’s patience you had honed your new abilities; speed, agility, strength and keen senses.

It was easy finding your fearful horse and Jimin, running on all fours as if a wolf yourself. Your ears pricked, picking up the yells of the man and whinnying as wolves surrounded your charges on all sides.

It was stupid to charge in head first, but when you saw a wolf snap Jimin’s weapon, a single stick in two between its jaws, it was exactly what you did.

Your first powerful spring, landed you clean behind Jimin’s now buckled body. The wolves immediately halted, intelligent eyes darting from the curling boy at your feet back to you, tongues rolling perversely.

You felt rather than saw Jimin raise his head, wondering why the wolves hadn’t ended him already. When he felt the larger presence behind him, he turned, gaping up at you as you placed one paw to the front, marking a line, marking a territory.

Loud snaps surrounded you, the wolves reorganizing till they circled you now, ready to attack from every direction.

Your eyes, however, sought one wolf out, finding its way back, sitting on its hind legs, tail wrapped around them. You snarled at it, the wolf obviously smirking at you before it rose up, stalking over to the head of the pack. It gave a short yap and the wolves, in once sleek, collective move, pounced.

You only had time to jump over Jimin, drawing the attack away from the human and your precious horse before you felt the first swipe of claws at your back. You whirled around, your own paws frantically hitting and lashing out, trying to bat away as many wolves as you could with as much force as you could muster.

You knew you couldn’t kill them, of course but it wouldn’t be for the lack of trying.

The wolves landed as many blows as they could on you, punishing you, sinking in teeth around your wrist, snapping around your ankles until you could smell the warm, metal in the air, from mostly your wounds.

“Enough,” You finally heard the one wolf, it’s comrades backing away with one word until you were left, swaying, eye to eye with its imperious gaze.

“Back off.” You growled but the only reply you got was a rough snicker, animalistic and feral.

“We would, just to see you fail in this attempt, Princess. We still wait for our master, and the day he becomes King, we shall have the boy for dinner. Another time,” The wolf tipped its tail at you, before turning and trotting off.

Jimin only raised his head when the sounds he could hear was the stamps of the horse’s hoofs, the whistling of the wind through his hair. When he peeked through slatted eyes, he could see you, tall, bulky, standing up to your full height as he caught the wolf farther away, dainty steps carrying it till it melted in the snow.

Jimin’s black robes that he hadn’t changed when he rushed out where wet, dirty again and he picked himself up, trying not to make too much sound lest you turn and put him through the same assault as you had the wolves.

He had heard the heavy thuds of your paws, the throwing around of the wolves as they banged against trees and rocks. He knew you could shatter his skull with one paw but then he’d also heard your screams of pain, each singing through him as you tried to keep the wolves away from him and your horse.

He reached the reins, about to climb on when he saw the horse’s eyes for the first time. They were wide, the neck bobbing as it tried to free itself from Jimin’s holding.

Jimin frowned, turning from the horse to where you stood and for the first time, he saw the damage inflicted upon you. Your heavy cloak had been ripped to tatters, hanging off of you in ribbons that exposed him to you. You wore pants, to contain the large hind legs, a simple men’s shirt. It was now smeared in stark red, the crimson pooling from your feet and arms into the pure snow below.

He watched as you tilted to the side, your weight finally tipping extreme and you collapsed, snow and blood flying from the impact.

Jimin turned to the horse again, reading the pain in the horse’s eyes.

It loved you.

Jimin once again turned to where your body lay, shivering just so slightly.

You were just a child, a cursed little baby girl.

Jimin’s mind flooded with images of a small girl in the painting, phantom giggles in his ears.

You saved him. He couldn’t leave you to die.

Jimin dropped the reins, his feet sinking into the inches deep snow as he ran over to you, kneeling down to turn your face towards him.

Your eyes were long closed, your mouth parted just enough for him to see the fangs within but he looked past that. Your fur was wet, both from the melting snow but also from your blood and as he cupped your huge head, he knew you wouldn’t last in this cold. Already, your breathing was erratic, your chest falling further with each exhale.

He looked to the horse that trotted closer, responding to the man who was helping his owner. It took severe effort, hefting the Princess but Jjangu was unexpectedly strong. The Princess lay across the horse, feet and head dangling and swaying as Jimin took the reins again, deciding to walk as he made his way back to the Castle, your home.

If the household staff was surprised to see Jimin back again, especially with an injured Princess lobbed across her horse, they didn’t express it. Instead they swarmed, concerned around where Jimin heaved and unceremoniously dropped the Princess at the base of the stairs.

While a coat rack took a shivering Jjangu back to the stables to be fed and warmed, Jimin helped the rest of the objects drag their Mistress to the sitting room.

“Great, what’s she gotten into now?” He heard as he unbuttoned his coat, rolling up his shirt sleeves.

“Not now, Jungkook; she’s injured badly, near death. Either help, or stay out of the way as always.”

Jimin tilted his head towards the sullen reply, straining to hear. “Gladly, if I never see her face, it will be too soon. She’s the reason we’re like this, or have you forgotten?”

“Jungkook, that’s enough!” He heard the low angry rasp of Namjoon’s voice when there was a shuffle in his eyesight.

The Princess seemed to be able to tell that she was safe again, grunting and whining as she sat propped up in a huge winged armchair. Her tattered robes had been shed off, her modesty preserved by the fact that she was entirely covered in fur but Jimin kept his eyes averted respectfully anyway. Her large legs were drawn up as she clutched her wounded, slashed appendage close to her body.

As Yoongi hobbled over, full of hot water, followed by medicine bottles on a spidery tray that clattered, Jimin ripped bandages. He filled up a golden bowl with the steaming water, dipping medicine and cloths in it.

The moment he stood up, intending to nurse the Princess, she flinched, surprising Jimin as she cowered away from him. She turned her back, and he could hear a distinct whimper, as she licked at her injuries.

She’s not used to being vulnerable, Jimin realized, his slack frame pushed to movement with the fear that her licking and prodding would infect and worsen the slashes.

“Now, now, don’t do that.” He moved too fast, grabbing a hold of the Princess’s shoulder and was immediately met with a wide open maw, her ferocious roar shifting his hair back.

Jimin dropped his hand, scowling at the stubborn slump of her arm, drawn back to her tongue. “You’ll make it worse. Just let me help.”

“It hurts.” She snapped when Jimin leaned right over her, attempting to wipe at the mangled arm.

“If you hold still, maybe it won’t.” Jimin tried to keep his voice steady, not wanting to snap at the already pained girl. Her screams at the biting and slashing wolves were still too fresh in Jimin’s mind. He wanted to show some kindness but she was just so…pigheaded.

“Maybe if you hadn’t run away, I wouldn’t be hurt.”

Jimin raised his eyebrows at her petulant tone. If he wasn’t already aware, he would’ve believed the Princess to still be a child at the sullen note of her voice. Something tugged at the corners of his lips as she attempted to cross her arms; the clawed up one still dangling in his hold.

“You told me to leave, remember?”

“I didn’t mean the castle.”

Jimin dropped the bloodied cloth in a waste bowl. “I suppose the lesson here is that you should watch your temper, isn’t it?” He made an exaggerated show of dipping another cloth in the medicine bowl, ignoring the Princess as she huffed and dropped her huge head on an equally huge paw, distinctly pouting.

“Please hold still now, this is going to pinch some.” He used the same tone as he would on his father, concentrating at digging out some remaining bits of grime from the claw marks. A few of his swipes made the Princess cringe and try to pull away but not once did her strength win against his sharp glances and sudden tightening of grips as he repeated the process on her feet.

Finally as he did the bandages he spoke again.

“Thank you, for saving my life.”

The Princess was quiet for so long that Jimin had to chance a look up, catching her quickly smoothening her expression into one of nonchalance. “You’re welcome.” She growled lowly.

But Jimin had already seen the bitten lips, the downward slope of her brow and the glassiness of her eyes.

He stayed right there, on the floor at her feet for a while, until the Princess, who had been staring into the fireplace had her eyes drooping. He stood when he was sure she was asleep, snores shuffling the fur near her mouth and nose.

Jimin folded back the sleeves on his muddy shirt. He knew he needed to change his clothes if he wanted to stay well, if he was sick as well, who would take care of the Princess? He hardly thought Seokjin’s candle hands or Namjoon’s golden bars would be able to change soiled bandages and he could already feel a chill coming.

Placing a huge blanket on the sleeping Princess, he went up to his room to change.

“How is she?” Hoseok asked immediately, as he shuffled inside for something to wear.

“She’ll have a few days with that bandage. It’ll probably scar.” Jimin answered tiredly, dropping his clothes and entering the bath where Yoongi was already pouring hot water in the tub.

“Thank you,” Yoongi said as he stood by. Jimin turned his head to look at the gleaming pot in question. “For not leaving her to die,” Yoongi clarified.

“Of course not…I will admit I had the thought but, I couldn’t. Not after she’d risked hers to save mine and Jjangu.”

“Jjangu was a gift foal from her father. She loves the animal more than anything.” Jimin heard before with a click of the bathroom door, he was alone.

He sighed, laying his head back along the porcelain edge. He was desperately exhausted, aching and needed to sleep, but there was a gnawing in his chest. He knew the Princess was in good hands now; he would only be needed when she needed her bandages changed and he knew she could manage that herself but he found it difficult to not be worried for the girl that somehow seemed so small and scared in all her ferocious enormity.

“Maybe…maybe I could try to be her friend.” Jimin mumbled, more to himself than anything as he closed his eyes.

Jimin took his vow seriously.

The first thing he did when his eyes popped open and fell on the customary outfit left for him; a simple powder blue shirt and black trousers – was to jump up and get dressed even before Hoseok had opened the eyes on top of it.

Quietly, he made his way down to where the Princess was still snoozing in the chair, flinging open curtains and inching closer just in case she woke up and panicked.

“Princess,” Jimin called gently, her head moving just so. “Your highness, wake up.”

With a groggy groan, her head fell towards his direction, yellow eyes blinking open in the filtering morning light.

And to the Princess’s dawning wonder and shock, Jimin gave her a beautiful, wide grin; possibly the most beautiful sight she had ever witnessed in her life.

From then on, both Jimin and Y/N tried to make an effort.

Y/N still felt her temper flare up quick as a snake’s attack but she quelled it in fear of the look on Jimin’s face. Jimin learned that despite her age, the Princess was still just a sheltered child who knew only what had been told to her.

Jimin tried to get you to participate in various activities. He taught you a few card tricks with a very old battered set that Seokjin unearthed, he told you stories of France, his life, what the world had to offer outside of the small town that had forgotten and abandoned her, he even tried to paint with her – although that ended in a disaster that had Yoongi steaming from his spout, Taehyung quickly sent to supervise the cleaning.

You, on the other hand, took Jimin outside.

Even though, Jimin had had the Guides to lead him places, no one knew the Castle and its grounds like you did, having spent fifteen years prowling and growing in it.

You allowed him to ride Jjangu while you walked, sometimes raced him. He had to change your bandages multiple times during these rides, noting with some joy that you healed faster than a human.

With four wild puppies and Jjangu, you took him to the top of a stile where in the falling night; he could count a multitude of stars and constellations. You threw Jimin in fountains; let him sift through flowers in the crumbling greenhouse, taste the fruits from the Grottos.

“My parents,” you pointed with a clawed finger, up at the huge entwined statues that had haunted Jimin before. He looked, focused on their faces more now, recognizing them from the portrait.

“Are they…gone?”

“No, just left frozen, to watch over what happens to me,”

Jimin turned to see you staring down at your palms, the story of the curse now making him enraged for your sake rather than sad. However, he kept mum, afraid of upsetting you rather than providing comfort. Instead, he took your huge gnarled hand, leading you quietly back.

Jimin and you took meals together now, lunches and dinners. He had unintentionally grimaced when he saw you simply lower your face and devour the food directly from the bowls and plates. In time, once he saw you try for him sake, he realized that your hands were simply too big for the dainty silverware and fragile glass goblets that fitted so perfectly in his.

So the next meal, Jimin surprised you by asking Taehyung to simply not provide any at all, raising his own bowl to his lips to eat as you did.

Your smile, huge, fanged, fur creasing in the corners of your mouth yet so happy, golden hue shining in your eyes, made him make it a habit to accommodate you, rather than ask you to change for him.

“Can I open them now?”

Jimin followed the trail of your cloak, sight barred by his hands as you attempted to lead him off for a surprise. You had been excited, the morning you simply strode into his room before he was even dressed. He had rushed behind Hoseok, who laughed at the pink of his cheeks and flustered backing away from you, until you claimed that ‘it was ready’ as he hurriedly put some clothes on.

“Not yet,”

Jimin heard the creak of doors, the clangs of curtain rings and felt the warmth of the sun on his skin.

“Okay, open them.”

Jimin dropped his hands with an indulgent smile, first looking at where you stood at the window, paws clasped together, and a nervous grin on your animal face. Your ears stood on point, waiting for his reaction as Jimin’s eyes wandered…and then widened till they were ready to pop right out.

It was a library.

A wonderful, glorious library, better than the dingy bookshop in town, better than any he’d seen in Paris. This was better than anything anyone could create in the whole world. Towering till the eye could see, with ladders and actual staircases leading up, his neck strained trying to fathom just how many books there were there.

“Oh my god,”

“Do you like it?”

Jimin looked down at where you were nearly vibrating with nervous energy.

“I had it cleaned, that’s what took so long. Seokjin told me you loved reading so I thought you should have this. I don’t know if everything is alright, but I checked last night and,” You stopped rambling when Jimin said your name. It was just a soft whisper but it tore a shiver through you at the tenderness, the fondness in it.

You had never heard anyone speak to you like that – not even your caretakers.

Jimin was practically aglow. His eyes shone as if someone lit coals underneath, his teeth blinded with the power of his smile, before his eyes turned to invisible slits.

“I absolutely love it, Y/N. Thank you; no one has ever done something like this for me before. This is perfect.” He strode forwards, his hand reaching for your face where his fingers nestled within the shaggy fur on your cheeks. He kept his smile fixed, nails gently scratching as your breath caught at the affection.

Jimin stared up at you, his own eyes and face sobering at the wide eyed look on your face. His fingers slowed till they just rested there, the both of you staring at one another.

“Ahem,” Jimin finally cleared his throat, removing his hand from your face. Was that disappointment he saw across your face? He turned to the shelves. “What shall we read first?”

Something thudded in Jimin’s chest, racing his blood with adrenaline as you and he sat on the floor in the sitting room, books strewn around you and the fireplace bathing you in heat.

“…and they lived happily ever after.” Jimin finished, closing the fifth book.

He had laughed and placed his head on yours when he discovered that you loved stories as much as he did. You had demanded him to read for you with one, two and the next three books. Jimin had happily obliged, enjoying the way you now sprawled on your front, arms cradling your head, looking at him with such a rapturous expression, he could melt.

“Read…one more…?” Jimin looked down to where you slid another book in his lap. Your eyes were big, hopeful and the rush of emotion that swirled in Jimin’s stomach was nowhere polite. He thought back to Hyebin, wanting to be married to him and yet knowing that she would fall asleep at the one thing Jimin was so passionate about. He cursed himself for the comparison. There was none. Hyebin wouldn’t even occupy the shadow of who you were.

“Y/N…I’m tired. How about you read for me now?” he leaned back on his arms, nudging the book back at you.

You paused, sitting up slowly before taking the book in your huge hands.

“I…I’ll rip it.”

“I’ll fix it back for you.” Jimin said immediately.

Your face fell as you opened the book, taking some time to flip it to the first page. Jimin watched; somewhat concerned as you slowly read the first of the fairytales.

“Once…up – on, a time…”

“Y/N, love,” Jimin had no time to worry about the endearment that slipped his mouth. “What’s wrong?”

“I…I can’t,”

“Can’t…read…?” He guessed.

You nodded quickly, fearfully.

“Oh, I thought Namjoon taught you.”

“Alphabets, a little book of stories and history…but I…I can’t read big literature. I can’t even hold books.”

Jimin’s heart cracked as you glared fiercely at your hands again.

“No matter, I’ll teach you, here, come now. I’ll hold the book for you.” Jimin grabbed the book, holding it open for you as he slowly, pronounced the words, you following him.

Behind you, unbeknownst to both of you, Yoongi, Namjoon, Seokjin and Taehyung sighed dreamily.

“Think they’re in love yet?” Jungkook drawled from behind them.

“Not just yet, I suppose, but they’re getting there.” Namjoon said.

“They need one more push.” Yoongi muttered.

“And what better than…a ball,” Seokjin glanced at Taehyung, wearing identical smirks.

Hyebin lay on her front, draped along the chaise in a manner that would have most men in the town be willing to do her bidding. The one she wanted, however, hadn’t even gone past the town in ages. She was bored; dejected from the lack of attention and her brother – she cast a venomous look to where her older sibling paced in front of the fireplace – hadn’t done a thing for her.

“Don’t look at me like that, Hyebin. I’m thinking.” Kai said, catching her eye.

“Well, perhaps you could think later. Isn’t this the time for action?” Hyebin cupped her face.

“Not yet; your impulse is what ruined your chances with the boy in the first place.”

Hyebin scowled.

“But don’t you worry your pretty head, darling sister, for your brother has a wonderful plan in mind.”

“Which is…?”

“Never mind you, you will go about ruining things and Jimin won’t marry you as well. You will only blame me.”

Hyebin slammed a small fist on the chaise. “Kai…tell me!” She whined but Kai only walked to the door, opening it as he tossed her a cloak. “Come on, we’re going to play nice and talk it out with Park Jimin.”

Much to their disappointment, however, and to Hyebin’s rage, when they arrives at the cottage of the Parks, it was completely dark. Not even one candle had been lit on the porch.

Kai knocked; once, twice, thrice even yelled for both Jimin and Mr. Park but the only thing to reply was the keening silence.

“They’re not here.” He mused.

“You don’t think they…left, do you?” Hyebin whispered.

“All their things are still here.” Kai’s eyebrows creased, flickers of annoyance and true anger flaming in his own eyes. “Well, we won’t stop. They have to come back some day. We’ll be ready.” He ignored the smack of his sister’s hand at his back, striding back towards the pub.

He needed a drink.

When you entered your quarters after a day of playing in the gardens with Jimin, watching him weave a crown of roses and dandelions which he placed on your head, you weren’t expecting to see Seokjin standing there with a bunch of standees and mannequins that used to be ladies in waiting for your mother.

“Um…Seokjin,” You queried even as you were swarmed with too many ceramic hands.

“’Tis the day, your highness, it is the day of your birthday! We have to have a ball in the honor!” Seokjin exclaimed.

You were shoved in a tub full of hot water and bubbles, the soap soaking into your fur. The words were enough to shoot a tendril of doubt through your heart, snaking till it looped around and squeezed. Your breath deepened as the mannequins began to scrub at you, rubbing in the water and soap till it reached the skin underneath.

It was your birthday already? No, it couldn’t be. You would remain a monster for all eternity otherwise. You would be condemned to live like this. Loveless, because who would look at you and feel anything but disgust and terror?

“Seokjin, my birthday isn’t till one another day.” You reminded the Maitre D` from behind the screen.

“The actual day isn’t of import, Princess. Besides,” He lowered his voice, “the day of your birthday will be the last day of the curse. It is make or break for us. You have to tell Jimin of your feelings for him and he has to return it. We simply cannot leave these things till the last minute.”

You remained silent, watching the mannequins use huge metal buffers to file and shine your claws.

“You…you do – you do have feelings for him, don’t you Your Highness?” Seokjin asked, misreading your silence.

You sighed, dipping further down into the water. Of course you had feelings for Park Jimin. Only an idiot would have a man like him around and not fall for his kindness, his generosity, and his open mind. Also, the small slants of his eyes, the way his lips split to reveal a gleaming smile that could halt an army, with shiny dark hair that fell into his eyes.

He was an angel.

And you were a hideous beast…

“It’s not my feelings that are a problem, Seokjin. How can someone like him ever feel for me, unless it’s fear? Maybe I haven’t earned his affection still.”

“Ah phish-posh, you forget, dearest Princess; we have all watched you and him very closely. We have seen the way he looks at you. Only a man that loves someone will have such a beam to their face.”

You sunk down further, Seokjin’s words easing the nervous grip in your chest a little. Perhaps…you did stand a chance. You could tell him of how you felt, he would tell you what he felt, and maybe you and your people can become human again.

You held the hope close as you were ushered to your own wardrobe, gowns that you had never once had the occasion of wearing, now shoved against your body and you into them, made to twirl in front of a huge mirror to check for anything to improve.

The time had come.

The gown that both Seokjin and the lady in waiting had chosen was approved by Hoseok finally, him making you swish the skirt and twirl in front of it, while pins and needles were floating around you, just in case things needed to be loosened or tightened anywhere.

You, who for almost all your life had only donned on the left behind clothes of your father of the male staff had almost giggled at the fancy attention, enjoying the feel of silk and gossamer curling around you and pooling out from your waist.

The dress was a pale gold and silver, shimmering with crimson jewels strewn about the skirt. A heavy diamond brooch glittered to where the bodice and neckline fell in a waterfall of fabric and your hair had been lifted from the mass of fur at your neck, rolled up elegantly till it lay in a soft mass on top of your head.

“Your highness,” Seokjin said finally and you were surprised at the sniff he let out discreetly. “You look beautiful. Come, your gentleman waits.”

You followed the candelabrum, exiting the room as Seokjin led you to the ballroom, to where the stairs led up to where royals made their grand entrance. You could hear light conversations down below and if you close your eyes, you could almost imagine that it was really a ball of people come to wish you good fortune on your birthday.

Maybe, if you could put aside your doubts and the harsh truths that crushed hope in your chest, you could have it someday soon.

You heard the Maestro, now transformed into a sprawling Organ, strike up a tune and Seokjin swished a golden bracket, gesturing you to walk down.

You lifted up the enormous skirts, praying to anything divine that your claws, now shortened down and sparkling, wouldn’t rip the dress anywhere and walked down the stairs, seeing everyone gathered at the base of the staircase, smiling up.

Mostly, though, you only noticed Jimin.

It was true, you hadn’t paid much attention to what kind of clothes Hoseok had been putting on Jimin for the duration of his stay here. Before, it used to be rich fabrics and embellishments that glimmered with his movements. The moment of your friendship and he began to step out had caused for simple cloths, sans coats and cloaks unless it was snowing.

Now, Hoseok seemed to have pulled all stops.

The suit that Jimin wore was all black, form fitting with studded rubies along the lapels and buttons the same shade as yours. Gold lace wound around his neck and his hair shone with the same effort, as if he’d undergone the treatment you had as well.

He smiled widely when your eyes met his, stepping forward till he reached you.

“You’re stunning.” He said and you could only muster a shaky smile, fluttering from the sincere compliment. “Happy Birthday, Y/N,” he whispered, bowing as he extended a hand for you to take.

You let your paw rest gently on his, deliberate and careful not to let him feet the real weight of it. “Thank you,” you managed a smile as wide as his, before the rest of your household gathered around you, wishes poured out and rushed words carrying you off to the cake.

Jimin was excited to see the cake, three tiers of it. Y/N’s eyes popped open wide, gaping at the sheer size of it but even as he grabbed her hand, leading her to cut into it; she was looking down, trying to muffle a smile.

He had to commend Yoongi and the entire kitchen staff. The cake was rich, fudgy and even he was rushing after that very last crumble. Finally, he felt the nudge of Taehyung, the cup around his ankle and he moved into action.

“Could I request for the birthday girl to bestow me a dance, your highness?” He stood up from his chair, slyly winking over to where Y/N put down her plate quickly, looking almost as if she was going to laugh.

“Of course, kind sir but I should warn you – I may step on your toes.”

Jimin chuckled, pulling her onto the glittering marble dance floor. “I don’t mind; you can step on my toes anytime.”

Y/N blinked down at him, Jimin could feel her breath catch at the way he would his arm around her waist and clasped her hand and couldn’t help but smile. She tried not to, moving slowly along with the way he led her, her attention focused down mostly to keep from actually crushing his feet when he stopped moving.

“Come on, let’s go look at the stars. Tonight, they’re as much more gorgeous than ever, as if they’re shining solely for you.”

He walked back with Y/N in tow, opening the balcony doors and letting her go out first before he shut them again, turning to see her stand at the rails, looking up where the stars mirrored in her golden eyes, twinkling in the sky and on the earth alike.

“So,” Jimin cleared his throat, gaining her attention again. “Are you enjoying your early birthday festivities?”

Big eyes blinked yet again at him, something shifting beneath as they were lowered. “I am, much more than I would usually, I suppose. I haven’t had a birthday in fifteen years.”

It was Jimin’s turn to blink, only in horror. “Not one in fifteen years?” he asked.

“Well, Taehyung tried, for the first two years, but then…I had no one to share it with. I had no one.”

Jimin closed in to where she stood with her back to him. His hand ached to rest along her cheek, turn her so he could look at her face but he resisted. “You have me now.”

She still didn’t turn. “Jimin…” A breath was drawn, as if steeling her for some deep resolve. He watched as your shoulders, clad in golden shimmers he wasn’t used to seeing her in slumped finally. “Are you happy here, with me?”

Jimin’s first instinct was to blurt out a simple ‘yes’. Was he happy here? Yes, he had everything he could possibly dream of and more here. He had the library, the gardens, the long winding hallways, the grottos…the silence, oh god, the blissful silence where no one bore down on him, no one judged him for not eyeing girls, not being interested in hanging out around the pub, not being Kai’s lackeys.

Was he happy with you? Of course, he, for the first time, felt someone was completely understanding and kind to him. No matter that he was perhaps the first to show her human kindness too but she let him be when he needed, listened to him read, asked him questions and challenged him. She fulfilled him in a way no one had.

No, they were two whole people. They had just found fulfillment in each other, and he was happy to call her home as much as the castle. He was happy. He was content.

Y/N didn’t seem satisfied. Her head turned fractionally, peering at him in such a fashion as to confuse Jimin. “Wouldn’t you ask for anything else, if you could? There must be something more you could ask for.”

Jimin hesitated, once again hand hovering over her but unable to touch. “I…yes,” he sighed, dropping his hand. “I would ask to see my father again but,” he quickly rushed on, lest she be upset. “I know I can’t, so I won’t press for it.”

She turned finally, too fast for him to not be startled. “There is a way. You can see your father.”

Jimin frowned, crossing his arms, more to protect himself against the temptation than defiance. “How?”

The Princess quietly walked by him, opening the doors and carrying on, Jimin taking a moment to follow hurriedly after her, still confused and a little worried before he realized that they were tracking a familiar path to his room.

“You had a way of seeing your father all the time.” Y/N spoke, stopping by the pool in the centre of the room. She bent down over it, gesturing for Jimin to join her. “You can call out for the waters to show you what you wish for. The waters even have healing abilities. The Wizard’s token, left behind to torment me with everything I can’t see but still so that I wouldn’t be able to harm myself in any way.”

Jimin heard it all; unnerved by the way someone could hurt a little child. Yet, the allure of seeing his father was way more than the urge to console the Princess. He sat at the edge as Y/N drew away to give him space.

“Please, show me my father.” Jimin said, his voice sounding desperate even to his own ears.

The water swirled clear, one turn, two turns before deepening into a whirlpool. Images swirled at the very bed of the pool, bubbling up till they hovered over the spin of the water. Jimin watched eyes tearing from horror as his father stumbled from one tree branch, to another, panting, struggling to stay on his feet.

“Oh no, father.” He nearly shouted, before remembering his father couldn’t hear him.

“Jimin, Jimin, Jimin,” his father chanted before finally dropping down into the snow, shuddering and curling up in the frigid ground.

“No!” He sprang to his feet, the illusion breaking with his movement, subsiding into the waters again, still and clear. “My father, he’s sick. He’s alone, wandering the woods, looking for me. He could be dying. Y/N, the wolves…what if the wolves find him?”

Jimin turned around to look at you, facing the window, silent as before. He wondered if you had heard him at all.

You had heard him.

Your ears pricked, flattening against the side of your head as you processed the frantic desperation to Jimin’s voice, your mind racing with a million thoughts.

You thought back to your childhood, soft smiles and misty words now fogged with time…and then all you remembered was pain. The pain of changing and growing too many sizes too big, the eruptions of the fur, claws, having to get used to them. The pain of being unable to eat and the consequent process of starvation until Namjoon figured out how to feed you – like a dog.

The fear of being hunted mingled with the uninterrupted loneliness that no matter how much your staff tried to ebb, would never cease.

You remembered back to spending hours upon hours with the statues of your parents, wailing when it got too much, with even your own people afraid to approach you.

Then you thought back to the first day you’d met Jimin; brave and strong and so sacrificing, martyring himself for his father to stay here…with you; showing you kindness, helping you, teaching you, and even saving your life.

He’d sparked companionship for you.

How were you repaying it?

By holding him captive here? You had seen the devastation on his face that first night, the same pain that had been your constant. How could you claim to feel anything for him when you were hurting him?

You had lost everything as a child, and you had grown up used to it. You couldn’t put Jimin through the fresh agony of it. He had a life to get back to, loving people to help him.

He was human. He didn’t deserve to live with a paltry princess living in a curse.

And with that came the final blow…

How could he love someone who had torn him apart from his father? How could Jimin be fond of someone who had basically subjected his father to a pitiful, lonely death?

So you quelled the cry of your heart, steeling bands of iron around it until you could nurse its break alone. You made the decision simply because it was already set in place.

“You should go. Go back to him.” You said quietly.

There was a pause.

“What did you say?” You heard him, too close to you and you flinched away from his proximity.

“I grant you your freedom. You’re no longer my prisoner.” You turned to face him, grateful for the fur that absorbed any stray tears before they were obvious.

Jimin’s eyes were shiny as well, but you knew they were tears of joy. He gaped, his breath catching before he spoke, choked up – “Thank you.”

You watched, leaning against the window as he hurried to take off the heavy coat, instead shrugging on a simple, heavier cloak. He pulled on boots, easier to wade in the snow.

You, on the other hand, went to one of the dressers, unearthing a vial and moving to the pool, dipping and collecting the water in the shimmering glass.

“I’ll be back before you know it, Y/N. I think I’ll have to bring my father along sometime – convince him that you’re actually a big softie, none of the roaring monster that you were so kind enough to act as.”

His voice was teasing; light, even jovial as he eagerly approached you. You remained silent, handing him the vial.

“Here, take this. It’ll be useful to you. If you need to be healed…or it can help you remember me.”

Jimin’s smile faltered, looking from the proffered container back up to your eyes, now obviously dripping.

“I’m not going to be very long, Y/N. At least, not long enough for me to forget you.” He laughed, still pocketing the vial when you didn’t withdraw it. Sighing, you shook your enormous head.

“No…you can’t come back. You have to stay away. Stay with your father.” You refused to meet his eyes.

“Wait, what…what are you saying? What do you mean I have to stay away?”

“It means that you shouldn’t come back to the castle.” Your voice broke. “You have to stay in the town, maybe even go back to Paris. Live your life, Jimin; you have the rest of it. You deserve much better than living in a dilapidated castle with a monster.”

“No! No, I can’t…Y/N; you’re part of my life. I can’t…I can’t just, let you think that of yourself and your home. Y/N, you’re so important to me.”

He was reaching for you, his hand going to wrap around yours but you backed away quickly, unable to let him touch you lest you break down and beg for him to come back, to stay with you. You wouldn’t do that. You couldn’t subject him to that.

You loved him too much for that.

Instead, you fled, turning on your heel and exiting the room on all fours, ignoring his rough calls of your name. You knew he wouldn’t waste time chasing you, not with his father in that state, not with the threat of the wolves hanging about his head.

When you entered your room, your whole staff was already present, with expectant beams on their faces. You even spied Jungkook in the midst, the feather duster nearly reeking of disdain.

“Well, how did it go? Did he say it back?” Seokjin nearly shook from excitement.

You dropped your head, already dreading their reaction. “I…I let him go. His father is sick. He needed to go back.”

There was a silence so deep, so disappointed; you inwardly cringed even when Jungkook broke it with a caustic snicker.

“But…but we were so close. Why would you do that, Princess?” Namjoon asked.

You walked to the window, throwing them open to see the last vestiges of hooves vanishing in the snow. “Because, I love him,”

Y/N had been right. There had been no time for Jimin to process what had just transpired in his room, not when the cries of his father echoed through his head. He mounted Jjangu and sped off in the direction he’d gleaned his father would be. He had to be single-minded for his father for now, he decided. He couldn’t take care of the old man if his thoughts were littered with questions, with confusion, with hurt as to why it was so easy for Y/N to just tell him to leave. Did she not feel the same for him as he did her?

He knew he couldn’t disrespect her by showing up with his sick father at her doorstep after she’d told him to leave. Perhaps, after his father was healthy, he would map the course again, ask for answers, and plead to stay with her. Perhaps, he’d hurt her somehow and this was her way of protecting herself…?

Jimin sighed, laying his father back before warming water, laying thick cloths soaked in hot water along his forehead to fight the cold back. It took him back to when he’d patched Y/N up after the wolf attack and he had to shake off the thought when his father stirred, looking blearily up at him. “Jimin…you’re back!” His father sat up too quickly, holding his son at arm’s rest to check him before pulling him to his breast.

“Ah, son…I never thought I would see you again. But how…how did you escape the monster?”

Something tugged in him at his father’s tone, making him pull away from the man. “She’s not a monster, father. The legend of the Castle is true. She’s the cursed Princess…” Jimin sat at the edge of the bed, his eyes taking on the sheen of reminiscence as he recounted his journey with her till he was told to go back to his father.

He hoped perhaps, that his father would encourage him to go back, but he needed him to be stronger first, so once his tale was over, his father still gaping at how Jimin made the monster who had imprisoned him and his son sound so human, he fell asleep.

Jimin, however, didn’t. He paced back and forth from the fireplace to the bed, interrupted only by a quick, sharp knock on the door.

Scowling at the late hour, Jimin opened the door, not too pleased to see who it was on the threshold.

“Jimin,” Kai beamed, almost too familiarly as Hyebin tipped her hood back, studying Jimin as if she was planning to gut him. Her nails were digging into her brother’s arm and Jimin wondered how strong Kai had to be to not wince.

“Kai,” Jimin modulated his voice coolly. “Do you know what time it is?”

“Entirely too late, my good man,” Kai turned his head to his sister. “Didn’t I tell you it would be rude to show up right now?”

Hyebin didn’t answer.

Jimin ran a hand through his hair, frustration making him further annoyed. He needed time and space to think, to process things. His father was sick, he had been a prisoner in an enchanted castle where he had found more solace and acceptance than he had in freedom, he had fallen for a cursed Princess who might or might not return his feelings but had forbade him to return to her. He needed to make plans for his future.

He couldn’t be discourteous though, not when they’d taken the trouble of coming by.

“Come in please; my father is ill and sleeping so if you could keep your voices down and be quick about this…” He let the door fall open further. Kai and Hyebin walked in as if they weren’t going to take no for an answer anyway, shedding off their cloaks and making themselves at home.

“Well Jimin, I must say it’s a relief to see you. Your father had been by the pub, you know, raving on about you being kidnapped and all by some monster and imprisoned. We dropped by a few times later to see the house empty.” Kai said. “We all thought he’d gone mad, or you’d run away and he was just lying to make us all look for you.”

Jimin didn’t look at the taller man, feeling the pinpricks of anger flare again at the accusation. “I…yes, I’ve been away. I was at the castle. My father wasn’t lying, neither is he mad,” He said coldly.

There was a silence in which unbeknownst to Jimin, Kai and Hyebin exchanged looks.

“Wait, you’re talking about the palace? The royal palace on the hill…that’s where you were and the monster is real?” Hyebin asked, bug eyed.

“Yes, the monster is your Princess and she’s not vicious or anything, Hyebin, unlike how you described her when you told me the story. She doesn’t devour children and she doesn’t make their bones into furniture.” Jimin snapped, crossing his arms before sighing as he glanced into the fireplace, eyes and voice softening. “She’s a little short-tempered, yes but she’s kind hearted and caring and intelligent and curious. She’s my friend.”

Kai watched Jimin calculatingly, while Hyebin clenched her jaw.

“It sounds like you like her.” She said finally.

“I do. Also, it’s really late. I think I should go to bed as well.” He said. His voice left no room for argument.

Kai gave him a tight smile, his too white teeth glinting almost maliciously in the firelight. “You think…it wise to harbor such feelings for a monster, Jimin? Need I remind you this…thing is cursed and is a bad omen in our town?”

“No Kai, she isn’t. Now please, I am tired.”

For a second, he thought that Hyebin would refuse flatly but even as he steeled himself to assert himself yet again, she was standing and with Kai in tow, moved out without another word.

Jimin puffed a breath of relief, moving to douse the fireplace. The swab plunged the living space in darkness and he stretched his arms above his head, arching his back, already looking forward to his bed when he heard the hushed conversation not too far from the house.

The one thing about living so far from the town and right in the middle of a disused farm was that there was nothing to absorb sounds. Each and every noise reverberated and echoed loudly in his house, enough for him to never be startled.

He went to the window, keeping back enough to see Kai, now holding his torch above him and Hyebin, talking. While Hyebin didn’t bother to lower her voice, Kai was trying to shush her, low and hissing but even his voice carried back to Jimin’s focused ears.

“…you didn’t see his eyes, Kai. He doesn’t just like this bitch. He loves her. He won’t even hear any truths about her!” Hyebin screeched.

“You sure know how to pick them, sister. A man who’s into bestiality,” Kai snidely replied, stopping when Hyebin grabbed his collars.

“This isn’t funny. You have to talk sense into him…or…I don’t…I don’t know, we have to kill this Princess of his.” Hyebin said.

“Keep your damn voice down, will you? Is that all you can think of in your pea brain? Jimin, Jimin, Jimin; all the time…it’s annoying.” Kai snatched away his coat from Hyebin. “Think of it like this, little sister. This girl is a Princess. She is our Princess, a royal. We cannot truly establish a government because a monarch is alive.”

“What the hell does that matter?”

“Darling sister, do use sense. Jimin is here, which means this Princess doesn’t have a man around right now.”

“So…?”

Jimin heard Kai snap his jaw. “So, sister, I go and I marry her. Simple, and effective; I become King, all powerful and she is out of your way. I will command Jimin to marry you and since you will be royal; he cannot hope to refuse.”

“You…you cannot be serious, Kai. I mean, are you really going to do that? She’s an animal.” Hyebin’s shock was palpable even to Jimin.

“Well, of course I don’t intend to honor the marriage wholly. I’m a hunter, aren’t I? Think of it like my greatest hunt, one that makes us the most powerful pair here. Plus, who’s to know…? Maybe the Princess meets a little accident a few days after our wedding. At least the kingdom will have a king they know and trust; they will only see it more as a sacrifice on my part.”

“You’re…despicable, brother.” Hyebin’s lips trembled before stretching into a cruel smile that looked odd on her beautiful face. “But a genius,”

“I know that. Now hurry up, we need to go to the pub and collect a mob. I cannot go alone in case the Princess tries to get aggressive. I’m going to need witnesses just in case we need to come back and convince Jimin his lovely Princess was actually a monster after all.”

Jimin was moving even before the fleck of light completely vanished from sight.

All thoughts and feelings of exhaustion melted from his body, arms and legs regaining energy as he burst into his father’s room. The old man started awake from the sound, jolting and clutching the sheets as he looked at the manic light in Jimin’s eyes.

“Son, what – what’s the matter?”

“I have to go father. I have to go back to the castle. Y/N is in danger.” Jimin rushed his words, tossing things from dressers till he found a bag, throwing some matches and a torch into it. He patted his pockets for the vial of pool water Y/N had given him, about to turn for the door when his father clasped his shoulders.

“No! I just got you back; I cannot let you go back there!”

“Father, you don’t understand. Kai…he’s taking a mob to her! They’re going to kill her, all because I opened my mouth.”

Jimin’s father wavered, his grip loosening only slightly.

“Come with me, then. See for yourself.” Jimin moved past the old man, not waiting for him to follow. However, when he reached Jjangu, who raised his head quizzically, his father, was right there, climbing on behind his son.

Praying that he wouldn’t be too late, he leaned over to Jjangu’s ear.

“Come on boy, we’re going home to our Princess.”

Jjangu whinnied, rising up on his front legs and then they were racing from the stable, in the direction of the palace.

Jjangu thankfully took the way that they were most familiar with, through the woods. Even as they surpassed the town, he could see the lit fires, domestic weapons of all sorts raised as cries and shouts filled his ears. They were breaking down the blockade; he realized when he saw the closed bookshop, going only the way they knew.

His fault…his fault…

Jimin shook his head, nudging Jjangu to go faster. He had to reach Y/N before Kai did, or he would never forgive himself.

The fire leapt high and powerful, licks of warmth flaring out against where you sat with your back to the muttering and mourning gossips of your royal staff.

You knew that the moment you’d spilled out the truth about how you’d sent Jimin away, even forbidding him to ever set foot back in the castle, you’d basically condemned your entire household and yourself to a grim fate, but could you condemn him to one as well? No, you couldn’t. Besides, you were used to this now, used to living like an animal. Jimin shouldn’t have to live in company of one for the rest of his life.

Behind you, Jungkook led most of the ranting. “I’m telling you; this was the plan all along. Get the Mistress all soft and mushy so he could get out of here first chance he could get.”

“Jungkook,” Yoongi sighed. “His father was sick.”

“So, all our families are probably dead now. We won’t ever get to see them now, or even to see their gravestones.”

You knew he was right. Maybe it was ok to live with yourself like this, but sacrificing your own people to this curse made guilt creep up your throat tenfold.

“Perhaps, we shouldn’t have gotten as attached to him as we did, even before knowing what his obligations were.” Seokjin said.

You were about to turn to snap at them all to get back to their chores when Namjoon suddenly squeaked, the clogs of his clockwork chiming anxiously.

“Wait, wait, there’s someone coming…OH lords above! Princess, Princess, it’s the townsfolk, invading the castle gates. It’s a mob!”

“Wait, what…?” You nearly fell off the chair, confused when the doors to the sitting room were flung open again, a squad of soldier armor leading a panting Jimin in.

“Y/N…mob, people are coming for you…run!” He managed to puff out before leaning his weight on his knees, drawing heavy breaths.

You blinked quickly. Didn’t you tell him not to come back? But he was here now, come to warn you about the mob…worrying for your safety.

“Jimin…” You breathed, “You came back.”

You drew closer to the wheezing man, a paw running along his smooth cheek.

“Of course, I did. I had to warn you.” Jimin looked up at you, time slowing as your gazes remained suspended. He placed his own hand on yours, squeezing it even as Jungkook broke it in his rasp.

“Well now, that’s sweet. So, are we to assume you led the mob here before promptly losing courage?”

You and Jimin both turned to look at the feather duster now propped up on a dresser, eyeing Jimin with as much disdain as you had seen him do you. Jimin gaped, flabbergasted while you were ready to rip out all his feathers.

“Jungkook, he came to warn us. Don’t be an idiot.” Namjoon said roughly.

“I can’t believe you’d lap that up, sir. He left here, went back home to tend to his ill father, so he said, and now he’s back…with encroachers on his heel. Why would you believe him? Because of the pool; the waters are also subject to imagination, Namjoon, or have you forgotten?”

“Enough, we cannot fight amongst ourselves, we have to protect the castle and our Princess.” Yoongi said. He turned to the soldiers, ordering for them to gather the rest of the household up and prepare for defenses.

“Ask him, Princess. Ask your dearest if he told them or not.”

You rolled your eyes at Jungkook, turning, however, to Jimin. It was better to put this to rest. “Tell him, then, tell him you didn’t.”

Jimin was still looking at Jungkook, a peculiar expression of conflict gathering his eyebrows together.

“Jimin…” You prompted.

“I…” He looked at you then, and just the look in his eyes – wide, pleading, had your hand slipping from him.

“See,” Jungkook said, as Namjoon, Seokjin, Yoongi and Taehyung gaped at their friend. “I told you, he told them.”

“Jimin, tell me you didn’t.” You whispered.

“I – I did, but I had no idea -,”

“That they were going to take advantage of the fact that a whole castle was left unattended and come to loot it? Or that they were going to come to kill and behead the Princess so they could mount her head upon their walls?”

“Why…how could you?”

Jimin looked at you again, away from the brewing anger and distrust of the staff. “Y/N, try and understand. I only told the truth, I told them you were harmless.”

“You’re lying.” Jungkook hissed.

You watched his hand try to reach for you, pull at you, but you drew away, cringing away from his touch. He stuttered in his steps, looking at you, beseeching.

“Princess,” Namjoon called softly, “what are your orders?”

You looked away from Jimin, reminding yourself you had duties to perform. “Keep safe the castle. My parents…they shouldn’t have to see their home seized in front of their eyes.” Your anger flared as you glared at Jimin finally. “Remind them that there still is a monster in the castle.”

Without another word, you dropped down on all fours and leaped clean over Jimin’s head, bounding for the roof from where you could see everything and lead stray invaders away from your people and home.

Your orders were followed to a tee. Thousands of household goods launched an attack on the people who were mostly comprised of men, having no idea how to operate the basic home wares.

Drawers smacked into jaws, hot water and oil were poured on head, knives and burning torches chased men around until they thought it better to just leave the castle alone and crawl away, defeated.

You stood on top of the parapets, watching your subjects nurse and curse over their bruised and burned extremities, retreating from your home. Perhaps, there would be no reason for the monster to show up after all. No legends would pass around; no one would spread talk to lure hunters and thieves to your home.

You didn’t go down though, instead, curling into yourself on the edge of the roof.

As happy as you were about the prospect of people leaving you alone, you had to contend with the fact that it was Jimin, the man you trusted, the man you loved who had ruthlessly allowed people to come hunt for you. You had mattered nothing to him. It would’ve been better to have someone draw a knife through your heart now, it might’ve hurt less than the betrayal.

“Oh Princess,”

Your ears pricked.

“There you are. You know, when I didn’t see a huge, hunkering monster down below I was worried Jimin might have lied.”

The voice was unfamiliar, nasty and it grated on your nerves so you stayed still, hoping the person would mistake you for a statue and pass by.

“Apparently, the poor boy hadn’t lied. He was so in misery you see, had to come back, leaving his little lady behind. Someone had to convince him that a princess needs a real man around for a husband.”

You frowned, feeling it draw closer.

“So I have a proposition. You marry me and we live happily enough. I’ll even throw in a wedding kiss.”

The footsteps behind you stopped, and you hoped that your silence had fooled him enough until they started again. “Now, Princess, it’s rude to not acknowledge a man talking to you. Turn around; let’s see what got Jimin so dewy eyed. I have to see if you’re worth all the talk.”

You remained still.

“Turn around now.”

You ignored him.

A sharp, plunging pain ripped through your back, making you gasp and seize up. Something pinched at the centre of your back, protruding out and you knew it was an arrow, turning to see the tall man, draw another from his quiver, placing it on his bow.

“Well now, looks like we’ve found our communication link. Are you going to be nice, now?”

You flailed, clawing behind to draw out the agonizing spike from your body.

“No use. I have perfect aim. Now, stop dancing and listen unless you want another to keep it company in your chest.”

He drew back the bow string.

“KAI, STOP!”

You stopped as well, seeing the man – Kai – turn around to look at where Jimin stood on the top most balconies, leaning almost all the way down. You took advantage of the momentary distraction of the hunter, throwing your full weight at him.

Your muscles and joints screamed at your movements, huge as they were, weighing you further down as the man turned quickly to you, trying to aim the arrow towards your body. You gripped his hand, twisting it out of the way.

“This is a nice surprise! Seems like you really are a monster, and here you were hoping for a human companion!” The Hunter laughed maniacally, shaking hair out of his eyes.

You growled, pulling the hunter close enough to snatch his bow, snapping it with a simply pinch of your fingers. “Get out of my house.” You gripped his throat, squeezing just enough for him to be able to tell. “Never come back…or I will kill you.” You flung the man away from him as the disgusting being that he was, backing away.

Adrenaline fading, the fatigue of blood loss raised its ugly head again, faltering your steps and blurring your vision.

“Y/N, here, come here, you’re hurt.”

You turned once again to where Jimin stood, his hand extended for you and stumbled towards him, shaky feet nearly throwing you over the edge more than once. You reached near him, raising your hand to grasp his and began to climb.

“You’re still here.” You choked.

“Of course, I had to clear things up.” Jimin smiled, eyeing you carefully.

You made to return the smile when another scream of pain tore through you, making Jimin jump before he saw the knife embedded deep in your side.

“NO!” He roared, feeling you slip from his fingers when he saw Kai’s added weight clinging to your cloak.

Your back curved backwards; Kai gripping the back of your cloak and hair in a tight fist. His lips split in a wide, sinister smile. “Go on Jimin, pull us up. You save her, you save me.”

Jimin snarled a curse at Kai, eyes darting from your drooping eyes to Kai’s bright ones. He couldn’t save Kai, he knew that. Left alive, he’d keep coming back again and again. You would never truly be safe with Kai alive.

“It’s okay…”

Jimin’s eyes snapped to Y/N, narrowing at the small smile tugging at your lips in puzzlement.

“It’s okay; you have to let me go…”

“What, no, I’m not going to -,”

“It’s better this way.”

“Y/N, no, Kai let her go!”

“I love you, Jimin. I’m…I suppose this is goodbye.”

Jimin opened his mouth to shout for you to hold on when all sound stopped short. You opened your paw, his own hand too weak to hold up all the weight of your body and Kai together. He watched, too slow to move, too stunned to understand as your eyes closed, still smiling while Kai’s eyes widened, almost comically, smile fading and mouth opening in a silent scream as you both fell.

There was no time for Jimin to even scream for you.

Everything was numb. Everything was silent.

Well, in all actuality, a battle had waged around him, promptly won by the small but mighty objects of Y/N’s household. Cheers of victory and joy could be heard from the lower rungs of the Castle. It was just that Jimin’s eyes could only see Y/N’s last smile, hear her last confession and feel her hand slipping from his.

All he knew was that Y/N was down here somewhere – ironically, falling right into her parent’s grotto – and he had to reach her. Nothing else mattered.

The soft grass of the grotto crushed and crumbled under Jimin’s boots, as he walked and broke into aching jogs as he spied the huge mass of fur on its side, reminiscent of when he’d seen Y/N topple over after saving him from the wolves. The memory stung his chest now.

“Y/N,” he gasped seeing Kai’s body almost completely trapped under hers, his fist still closed around her clothes.

He bent over, ripping his hand away and rolling his dead body away till it lay feet away, open eyes dead and unseeing, his laughter finally fading into nothingness.

Falling to his knees, he heaved Y/N’s head onto his arms, propping it against his shoulder. Her eyes were closed as well; smile gone and he could spot a trickle of blood running from the corner of her mouth into the fur. His hand trailed down to the knife in her side, slowly, gently easing it out and tossing far away from her as both arms came to wrap around her, rocking.

“Y/N, hey, it’s okay, come on wake up. He’s gone. Kai’s dead and every one fled. You’re safe now.” He hushed.

She lay still, too still, not even shifting a little in answer to his voice.

“Y/N,” Jimin vowed now to give up so soon. She had to be alive, she was probably just unconscious. He tapped her cheeks, ran his fingers through the mass of her hair and fur.

“Y/N, please, I’m so sorry.” He buried his head against her neck, taking in a whiff of the musk that he was so used to now. There was a change now; it smelt too metallic, too…sodden. “Please, wake up.”

She couldn’t be dead…she couldn’t leave him like this; not after saying she loved him and pulling off such a ridiculous stunt.

His body shook, feeling the chill settle in. Somehow, Y/N’s body that radiated so much warmth normally wasn’t enough to keep the cold away now. Jimin shuddered, drawing her closer before closing his eyes finally. A sob choked its way out his lips, followed by a sound that was too close to Y/N’s own agonized ones.

“Please, come back, Y/N, please, I love you too. So much, so much, please,” he rocked faster, more to keep himself moving than to shake her awake. He couldn’t stop moving, it would only mean for him to accept that Y/N wasn’t moving as well and that she was…she was.

His tears soaked through her fur.

“Now, this is quite the unfortunate situation.”

Jimin hiccupped, looking up to where someone new had joined them in the grotto. For a wild second he thought that it was Kai but no. This man was much taller, skinnier, even unhealthy looking.

A snap echoed from behind him and he jumped, looking about to see a very familiar pack of wolves surrounding him, grinning and tongues lolling. He pulled Y/N closer but the wolves didn’t seem to intent on attacking, instead collecting behind the new arrival.

Jimin squinted, wiping off the blurring tears to see the man was known to him.

“You,” He said at the bookseller who peered down at the cursed Princess with something akin to bitterness.

“Me,” The old man hummed, turning to face the wolves and Jimin was astounded to see that a wave of this man’s hand was enough to line them neatly up.

“How…I thought you never left the bookshop. Did you come with Kai?”

“Kai?” The bookseller laughed, caustic casting a cursory glance at the dead man feet away. “That pathetic excuse for a human and you think he’d have any sort of influence over me?”

Jimin watched as the man drew himself to full height before light erupted out from somewhere in his chest, blinding Jimin and making him feel colder than he did before. Once he felt the light fade from his screwed up eyelids, he peeked through, gaping in disbelief.

Long black robes swirled around the now, considerably younger man, almost as if it was sewn directly from the shadows around him. Long sleeves fell back to reveal tattoos in a language Jimin had never seen before, glowing even till the skin of his bald head and face.

“Not quite who you expected, I see.” The man said.

Jimin was still trying to put together the old bookseller who had been so friendly to him transformed into this being when with a clatter and loud clangs they were surrounded with more things – this time on Y/N’s side.

Namjoon’s clock chimed angrily, Seokjin’s fiery wick gleaming in the dark as they caught the man standing over Jimin and Y/N. “The Wizard,” They gasped, followed quickly by Yoongi and the others who skid to a halt.

“Be gone, monster! You have killed our Mistress!” Yoongi clattered.

“You’re the one who cursed Y/N.” Jimin said, realization dawning over him like a pot of cold water. However, there was no fear in his voice. After all what was the use? Y/N was dead, neither she nor he could be hurt any further.

“Now, now, calm please. Is that any way to greet the man about to grant you salvation?” The Wizard raised his palms.

“You cursed us too swine!” Namjoon yelled.

“I did. And I fully intended to come back on her birthday to remind her that she owed herself to me if she wanted to have her life and loved ones back. It seems,” He looked down at Jimin cradling her body and again there was strange bitterness to his gaze, “I have been rendered useless. She has found love…I didn’t think it would’ve been possible.”

He looked up.

“So now, here, my word means something in the world.” Light shone again, only this time it was blue.

Jimin watched the light move out from the Wizard, creeping slowly to where Y/N lay against him. The light cocooned her, moving forward till it had surrounded everyone present in the grotto and on and on till all he could see was blue.

Jimin’s proximity helped in seeing Y/N, and he clasped her protectively, worried the light was going to further cause her harm. Only, it didn’t. Instead, her weight began to ease up off of Jimin. Fur receded and fell off from her body to reveal smooth skin, wet and smeared with visible blood, fangs shrunk back, and ears flattened and became smaller.

The huge mass of a creature began to slowly shrivel, until all that remained in his arms could no longer pass off as an animal. No, this was laughably, astonishingly, human.

Jimin raised a hand inquisitively, running it through the strands of hair that were now free from the matting of fur, his hand coming back red.

“She’s…”

“Back to normal…or rather what she would’ve grown up to be; that’s about as normal as I can make her.” The Wizard snorted at his own joke.

“Is…your highness,” Jimin turned to see that there were people in the grotto, no longer just objects.

A tall tanned man stood foremost, dimples poking out as a wondrous smile lit up his face, hands running over his suit. “I…I’m a man again!”

“Or how much you were before,” Another spoke, taller than the first, golden hair falling into his eyes.

“Gentlemen, calm down!” A shorter man barked.

These were strangers to Jimin, or maybe not. He looked back up at the Wizard, ignoring the joyous reunions behind him. “She’s…still dead.”

“Yes, but then, the way to bring her back to life is with you, isn’t it?”

Jimin was about to ask what he meant when he remembered the vial. The vial full of the pool water, that Y/N had said had healing abilities.

He delved deep, bringing out the mercifully intact vial before upending it completely into Y/N’s open mouth.

He waited, with bated breath as moments passed. And then – skin knitted back together, the grey pallor of her face smoothed till a healthy glow seeped in her cheeks.

With a huge shaky breath, Y/N opened her eyes again, fumbling with her body as if it scratched at her.

“Y/N, hey, Y/N,” Jimin grabbed her hands, much smaller and claw less, fitting into his easily.

Big, wide, fearful eyes met Jimin’s. “J-Jimin?”

“Yes, it’s me.” Jimin placed his head against hers, taking in a deep inhale that wasn’t of musk but of bloodied skin, of sorrow, or uncertainty. Closing his eyes and hoping for the best, Jimin turned his head to place his lips swiftly on yours.

There was no reciprocation at first, worrying Jimin that perhaps, he’d pushed you too far too fast. However, he felt your small hand move past his neck into his hair, entwining with the strands to hold him against you.

He moved away from your face, reminding himself that you still needed time and space to learn physical love when your eyes, now bright with unshed tears landed on something behind him.

It took him a bit to register the utter silence, hushed conversation behind him and he turned to see that the huge statues that used to be the only decorations in the grotto were no longer there, instead right behind him stood a couple, too familiar.

“Mama! Daddy!”

Y/N fled Jimin’s arms, instead throwing herself into her parent’s arms. Jimin fell back from the impact; quickly picking himself up to see the pair wrap their tight arms around their daughter, tears streaking through dirty, muddied faces.

The man was tall, his wife regal as they still retained the glow of youth, having spent their lives inanimate. Their daughter may have grown in front of their eyes but there was near to no difference in ages, Jimin noticed. He turned his head, but the Wizard and his pack of wolves were long gone.

Y/N shirt and pants were also now tattered, too huge on her now smaller body. Jimin tugged off his coat, wrapping it delicately around her shoulders when a hand stopped him from moving away. He looked at the queen, small crown still perched into her mussed hair who smiled at him.

“Thank you,” she mouthed, tugging him closer till he was hugging Y/N from the back as well, and Jimin couldn’t be more grateful at the gesture.

The moments, hell, the days after the…incident, or rather your birthday had been all muddles and stumbling through time. As a cursed monster, time had seemed to stretch, with you craving love and companionship simply because you’d been told that they would break your curse. The very notion of these emotions had become a means to an end.

You had so much to learn, you realized when you stepped back into a castle that had no broken ceilings, no gaping holes, no smears of dirt and growing moss. The stones gleamed, jewels sparkled, sculptures loomed, just as they had in your distant memories.

Everyone stared, even the members of your household who had lived with you forever. You supposed you weren’t the only ones in need of reacclimatizing.

Chamber maids and maids in waiting dragged you and your mother away almost immediately. You were washed, scrubbed, hair oiled and washed and scented, similar to the ball but only this time the gown they put you in felt too big, too airy for you. Your skin, used to being protected by masses of fur and hard muscles shuddered at the gauzes and weightlessness of your new things.

Mirrors and portraits, previously smashed or torn by your claws had been reinstated and you had spent hours just staring at the unfamiliar face in the reflection. You weren’t a child anymore; you weren’t the beast you were used to seeing in cracks of glass and shards of mirrors. You had grown into a young maiden and you had no idea who you were.

The resurgence of a bustling royal palace, with many of the staff setting out to locate their families had created a buzz. Kai, the hunter had been dragged away and Hyebin, his sister as Jimin told you had been tried for conspiracy for murder.

Of course, things hadn’t become hunky dory fast. Things still needed to be sorted out, a monarchy had to be established because the so called government that had put Kai in charge in the first place was found now corrupt, seeing how easy it had been to rile up the public on the word of one man with no proof at all.

You left your father to handle these matters. Your mother had something much more stressful for you to think about.

Whether or not you wanted to marry Park Jimin…

You knew he was in the palace somewhere, along with his father. He’d come seen you but there hadn’t been much conversation. You had been too unsure of your own self, of your new or rather old body and you wondered if Jimin liked you as a human as much as he had when you were a creature.

“Don’t be silly,” Jimin had said, once on a slow walk around the garden. Your steps were much slower now, smaller feet tended to do that but none of you were in a hurry. It seemed Jimin was as eager to know the new you as you were. “I loved you when you were covered in fur and I love you now, even though I must say I was hoping to introduce a few of my friends to my beastly fiancée.” You had smacked his arm, unsettled at the joke even though he wrapped his arms around your waist.

“Don’t worry so much about this. The curse is past. No one and I mean it, will ever hurt you now. They’ll have to go through me.”

The burning sincerity in his eyes and voice left no room for you to argue or doubt.

And so, you shyly visited your parents that very evening, hand looped in your lover’s, asking for their blessing to marry him.

Your engagement to Jimin lasted longer than any a royal was supposed to have, stretching out for months as you relearned human life. You were taught to walk properly on two legs, carrying things with a tiara affixed to your hair. For days you would bat at your hair when the pins keeping it in place pinched or pulled at you.

You learned how to dress yourself, how to put on various forms of jewelry, how to take baths and resumed your studies and royal duties.

Suffice it to say, you were now missing your animalistic life at times, you were so exhausted.

However, Jimin was a constant, learning with you, talking you through the harder aspects, supportive, encouraging, and absolutely perfect. It was also getting hard to keep your hands to yourself when it came to your private moments.

Physical love was one aspect that you absolutely dreaded touching upon. You wondered if you would be good enough, if Jimin would find pleasure in you or if you would find pleasure in him. He did place chaste kisses against your skin and lips when he thought it was okay to do so and you had only found him losing control once. It had been late at night when he visited you and had read to you till you were drowsy. With only a mind to gently kiss you goodnight, he had leant in only to be trapped by your hands, trying to get as close as you could to him.

He’d gripped at you, trying to pry out of your touch but had melted fast, molding and pressing you to your mattress. You had felt him growing aroused against your pelvic bone, rutting against you, gasping when he pulled away, blinking and shaking hair out of his eyes.

“Now now, love, we have time.” He’d pecked your cheek, disentangling himself from you before almost limping out.

Soon enough, it was time for the main event of your life.

Namjoon, Seokjin, Yoongi, Hoseok, Taehyung and Jungkook returned in days time, bringing what was left or added to their families and they stayed on till after your wedding took place.

Jungkook had mellowed in the face of his parents being alive, fifteen years older of course but delighted to have him back. He’d wished you well, but not apologized for his earlier behavior – you didn’t expect him to either.

Your parents had gone above and beyond for the wedding, throwing the lavish event for the entire town and further to come attend. Your gown was created for weeks, Hoseok personally supervising the process so that when you walked down the altar finally, upon your teary eyed father’s arm; you erased all thoughts that you had been a monster for most of your life prior.

You left the palace for your honeymoon, following Jimin’s advice to leave the royal duties to your still young and hearty parents while you took some time with your husband, so you could acquaint yourself both to him and to the world that he wanted to show you.

You knew where to start the journey of course, with your groom’s lips twitching at the very first words that tumbled out during the ceremonial dance.

“Please,” you’d whispered, laying your head close to his heart.

“Anything for you, darling,” Jimin had whispered back, smile obvious in his voice. “Paris it is.”

Jimin might not ever get used to the feeling of you fitting into his arms, you thought to yourself, glancing at your now husband, ever so often.

He’d lifted you up into his arms the moment you’d stepped off the carriage, beaming about something called the threshold ceremony, carrying you through the doors of the French villa carefully.

“Satisfied?” You asked when he stood still, eyeing the windows in contemplation.

“I’m wondering if I’m missing something but I can’t think of anything as of yet. So yes, here you go.” He placed you down, letting you walk through the house while he watched over the servants who carried through your luggage.

A late meal later, you stood at the mirror in the bedroom, painstakingly pulling out the multiple pins from the up-do your hair had been twisted in, your husband peeking in with a mischievous grin.

“Having fun?”

“No,” You grumbled, your arms dropping from the strain. Jimin walked up behind you, beginning to quickly pull out the multitudes of metal from your hair that would make a magnet drool. “Why are there so many?”

“Look on the bright side,” Jimin muttered, delving deeper into your scalp, “For the rest of our honeymoon, you could be completely free from all of this, until of course we have to go back.”

You glanced up at him quickly, seeing the darkening expression brooding on your husband’s face as he dropped the final pins on to the dresser.

“I was thinking.”

“Yes,” you squeaked out embarrassingly.

“Well, we’re all alone now, so we don’t have to be worried about anyone walking in on us.”

You turned around completely, confused. “That’s what you were worried about?”

“Of course,” his smile flickered. “What else would I be worried about?”

Your eyes fell, feeling all sorts of stupid now. “I just thought…maybe you didn’t…you know, feel that way about me now.”

A finger brushed under your chin, tilting your face back up. “Love, I married you.”

“Yes but,”

“Mm, but nothing, come on; let me show you what I feel for you.”

Jimin’s arms, much stronger than you had given him credit for swooped under your thighs, lifting you up to wrap your legs around his waist swiftly. As a monster, you had never given thought to how powerful Jimin really was, but now when you were human, much more fragile than you were used to, he was blatantly flaunting his strength.

You couldn’t fault him for that.

Your husband dropped you onto the centre of the massive bed, arms balancing his weight over you. “Are you okay about this? I don’t want to force you into anything that you’re uncomfortable with.”

“No,” you reached for him, winding arms around his neck. “I’m fine, I want to feel you. I want to learn this with you.”

Your eyes closed automatically when he kissed you, sweetly but strongly, tongue laving over your lips, slipping between with less to no battle from you. Your mouth parted easily for him, letting him plunder moans from you.

“Fuck,” Jimin breathed, pulling away before his eyes were widening. “Oh, I’ve never cursed like that before.”

His cheeks were so red, you couldn’t help but laugh. “No worries, I’ve never made someone curse like that before either.”

Jimin’s fingers trailed to the ties of your night shift. “Perhaps, we’re a bad influence upon one another.”

“Perhaps,” your breath caught in agreement, Jimin’s fingers pulling at a peaking nipple while his head lowered to suckle on the other. “I hope you don’t mind.”

“Not at all, my darling wife,” his lips were curved wickedly when he resurfaced; sitting up to remove the cotton night shirt he wore and tugging off the gown from your body right after.

You lay naked under him, open for his perusal and taking. Your hand shifted up, trying to pull the sheets up to cover some of your modesty until Jimin caught up, taking your hands to place them right there.

“There,” His mouth opened, tongue rubbing over his swollen bottom lip. “Do you feel that? That’s what I feel for you. You don’t need to hide from me love, never ever. I have loved you before, I love you now and I will continue to love you more for all our days to come. Do you understand?”

You meekly nodded.

Jimin’s eyes flashed down your body, knees parting yours before his hand touched your bare core, running over the nub in circles. “Am I understood, love?”

“Yes-yes,” you gasped, neck falling back for him place kisses even as a finger slipped through inside of you, thick but gentle, stretching you just so.

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, I understand.”

“Good,” Jimin removed his hand, placing the digit in his mouth, eyes still firm between your legs. Normally the lecherous look on any man would have you burst with rage but Jimin had you nearly quivering in anticipation, especially when he finally pushed down his trousers.

You had never seen a cock before, never having any contact with a human male, but you had to say Jimin’s was an impressive specimen. Thick in girth and flushed a sensuous red, the head throbbed in need before he was guiding himself to your body.

“Ready, love, I need you to breathe with me.”

Jimin dropped low on you, lips tugging and pushing at yours, his spare hand clasping your breast to distract you as he pushed in. your knee bent, curving over his hip as you gasped, eyes watering at the sharp pinching sensation deep within you. Your husband halted, waiting for the expression of discomfort and pain to pass from your face, fingers brushing away any stray moisture from the corner of your eyes.

“I…I’m okay, please move.” You told him, Jimin studying you carefully before he drew back, thrusting in experimentally. The first drags of his hips, followed by the slow plunges still made you bite down your lips, screw up your eyelids before you found your rhythms.

Jimin ended up with his hand at your nub, rubbing it in gentle circles, lighting sparks in your nerves with the motion of his lovemaking, your nails digging into your lover’s back and shoulder, trying to get as close as possible.

The first jolt of climax nearly made you cry out, burying your face in his neck to muffle the sounds when he followed, heavy grunts falling unabashed from his lips, hands twining with the strands of your hair to seal your lips in a clumsy kiss as he spilled deep into you.

Rolling over, with your head safely clasped in the nook of his arm, Jimin sighed contentedly, warm hand against your back.

“Jimin,”

“Yes, love.”

“So…what happens now?”

Your husband turned his head to give you a sleepy grin.

“Now we’ll live happily ever after.”

[readaroundtherosie]

Hello, do you have any book recommendations? I'm okay with most genres but my favourite is fantasy. Thank you!!

Absolutely! I adore fantasy as well, so you’re in the right place :) 

 For some more recent releases: 

- The last book in The Bone Witch series by Rin Chupeco just came out, so if you haven’t read those yet, they’re amazing

- The Priory of the Orange Tree by Samantha Shannon also just came out and its HUGE but also an incredible fantasy read with draGONS

- If you haven’t read Truthwitch by Susan Dennard yet, now is a good time to get into it since Bloodwitch just released as well and its a world where people have magic but it’s such a cool and interesting system 

- If you’re into stuff like The Cruel Prince by Holly Black (also great) there’s a much lesser known Australian fae series called Valentine by Jodi McAlister whose final book in the trilogy just came out as well. It’s an awesome series based in Australia, the fae are terrifying, a lot of people die, and the characters deal with their emotions very realisticly (pls read) 

- Reign the Earth by A C Gaughen is another fantastic series which features elemental magic. This is one of my favourites because the character deals with being in an abusive relationship in a very healthy way and manages to remove herself from the situation. A bunch of other things go wrong though, of course. The sequel, Imprison the Sky, very recently released and this is a series everyone should hop on, please.

- Ace of Shades by Amanda Foody was a really fun fantasy read with some darker atmospheric tones and another interesting magic system. The second book (King of Fools) comes out in April!

- Grave Mercy by Robin LaFevers is slightly older, but the sequel series is starting up with the recent release of Courting Darkness! It’s female assassins and fun times, what more could you need, really. 

- City of Brass by S A Chakraborty is another chunky fantasty, but its amazing. The sequel, Kingdom of Copper also recently released, is SO. GOOD. Arab inspired fantasy, with Djinn, magic, and high stakes 

A little older but top favourites:

- This list would be nothing without some V E Schwab on it, so highly recommend A Darker Shade of Magic. An intriguing plot, fantastic characters, and an intricate and unique magic system that includes words and four Londons.

- This list also wouldn’t be much without some Jay Kristoff, so if you haven’t picked up Nevernight yet, it’s honestly just so freaking good. The third and final book in the series is (FINALLY!) out this September, so now is the perfect time to get into it!! 

- We’ll throw in a little Leigh Bardugo while we’re here. The entire Grishaverse is worth picking up of course, but Six of Crows will always be my favourite.

- One more Arabian inspired fantasy, because why not. An Ember in the Ashes by Sabaa Thair is such an incredible world /series and if you’re not on this train yet please jump on.

- The Kiss of Deception by Mary E Pearson, and it’s new spin off series, Dance of Theives. They’re just really great, okay? Do the thing.

- The Young Elites by Marie Lu is an anti-hero fantasy where young people have powers and it’s a very underrated series that needs more love. 

- Last one for now. Strange the Dreamer by Laini Taylor. Honestly, if you haven’t read it you don’t know that you’re regretting every second you haven’t read this duology.

A few things that have recently released that I haven’t had a chance to read yet but sound amazing: 

- The Ruin of Kings by Jen Lyons

- Ship of Smoke and Steel by Django Wexler

- For a Muse of Fire by Heii Heilig

- Warrior of the Wild by Tricia Levenseller

- The Smoke Thieves by Sally Green

Coming soon so keep an eye out for these!:

- We Hunt the Flame by Hafsah Faizal

- Guardians of Dawn by S Jae Jones- Spin the Dawn by Elizabeth Lim

- Finale by Stephanie Garber (last book in the Caraval series)

- These Divided Shores by Sarah Raasch (sequel to These Rebel Waves)

- Red Scrolls of Magic by Cassandra Clare & Wesley Chu- Chain of Gold by Cassandra Clare

- Darkdawn by Jay Kristoff (finale to Nevernight)

- Vow of Theives by Mary E Pearson (Sequel to Dance of Theives)

- King of Fools by Amanda Foody (sequel to Ace of Shades)

- Call Down the Hawk by Maggie Stiefvater (the Ronan trilogy we’ve all been waiting for!)

[katlyn1948]

“The Archer” from “Lover”

So I finished it...took me like three weeks, but I had a severe case of writer’s block so...

A lot of the time it was just me staring at the computer screen thinking of what the hell to write, but I figured the shit out! 

I would like to warn you that I have ONE line of dialogue in the story. Literally just one. It is filling with a lot of emotions and angst, so you have been warned! 

Anyway, hope you enjoy! 

Be my wife. Be the Lady of Storm’s End

The words echoed through Arya’s head as she mindlessly wandered through the desolate castle. The rest of her family al with whoever lived through the battle, were all gathered in the great hall feasting to the victory.

Although she knew the immediate threat was nothing more than a pile of ice, the threat hundreds of miles away was still at large. She needed to focus on the task at hand and not the “what ifs” she left in the storeroom.

Arya expected Gendry to find her after the battle. She had left so abruptly; before the horns were even called and before he had a chance to awaken from his slumber. The actions of their coupling were ones she would never forget, yet she knew that it could create a lot of unanswered questions, especially if they survived the battle.

She had not expected to live; none of them did, yet here they were celebrating; trying to forget that there was still another battle to be fought and won.

She was ready for combat yet seeing the look of joy and happiness in Gendry’s eyes made her question whether she truly was ready.

As she wondered through the hallways, her mind kept drawing up hundreds of speeches she could have-should have said to him, but they all remained unspoken. It was not like her to have those thoughts swirl around her head. She was the kind of person to stick to her wits and to never let anyone change her mind otherwise. Unless, of course, it was her family.

Was he her family?

No, because if he were, then he would have left with her all those years ago.

She finally reached her destination, quickly latching the lock of the door behind her as she entered her bedroom.

She needed seclusion; time to herself, to think about what had transpired between she and Gendry.

If Arya were to go back to the feast, her sister would take one look at her face ahs realize something was amiss. Normally, she was good at keeping her expressions and feelings at bay, but the realization that Gendry lover her more than a friend (and she most certainly felt the same way) shocked her to her core. So much so, that it made her body flush with heat.

Her rooms were considered the coldest in the castle, and although it has never bothered her before, she needed the cool stone to quench her heated body. She stripped quickly, perhaps faster than her night with Gendry, discarding her breeches and jerkin. She nearly threw her shift off, but quickly came to her senses and realized she would need some layer of protection between the cold air and her nearly naked form.

The fires had nearly died down and the tub filled with hot water was beginning to cool. She gathered her small frame on a chair perched by the fireplace and watched as the last embers slowly extinguished.

The only light left was provided by two flickered candle sticks, one on the nightstand by her feather bed and the other on a table in the corner of her room.

Darkness never scared Arya. There had been many a night through her life where there was nothing but darkness surrounding her. Her mind had plunged into a layer of darkness so profound that she was sure there was no way of finding a guiding light. Yet, as her time here with her family and the realization that she was no longer alone seeped into the crevasses of her darken mind, she could finally see the small flickering candle in the distance, and that’s what scared her the most.

The pieces of Arya Stark that she had buried so long ago where now crashing through with such a force, that she was sure that she would break. Raw emotion had taken over and Arya had now lost control.

It was terrifying for her to think that she no longer could control the one thing she had control of for so long: her life. She had a plan and although there were some alternate paths that she had taken to complete that plan, she had never expected love to take over.

How could anyone love me?

The question was simple, yet empowering.

Arya was sure she was surrounded by people who loved her, she just could not understand why. With everything that she had done to get her life where it was at that very moment would be shunned by many of the Gods. Even Sansa was mortified by her bag of faces not so long ago.

Yet, even her hard exterior, nor her skillful abilities deterred Gendry’s feelings.

If he was mortified of who she had become, then he would not have sought her out during the feast. He would have not professed his love to her; bearing his heart and soul for her to see. She did not hide who she was with him, not while on those grain sacks. Not while his fingers glided over her scars, gently rubbing them as if to make them disappear. Not while his lips had captured her as she slowly glided down the base of his cock.

He could have asked her a thousand questions, she knew this, but instead he let her take the reigns and enjoy what very well could have been their last night alive.

Gendry had proved to Arya that, despite her past, he was willing to love her and cherish until his dying breath.

He was the only one who could see right through her façade, gazing upon the most intimate parts of her soul, that it nearly shook her to her core.

It was a surprise to see that someone still cared about the girl she used to be and not the girl she had to become.

But she couldn’t let the prospect of a “what if” get in her way of finishing her list.

She would ride off to King’s Landing and she would kill Cersei, even if it meant her demise.

Shaking the creeping thought from her mind, she lifted from the chair and blew out the last remaining light in her chambers. She buried herself under the furs and prayed to the Gods that sleep would take her from this day.

Her body was still weak from the battle; her muscles screaming as she stretched them thin.

Although the furs were plenty, Arya could still feel the slight chill in the air as she drifted to darkness. It reminded her of the nights she had to spend under the stars or in the rain; never fully being able to get warm.

Once dipped into deep sleep, she found that her mind ran wild with dreams and thoughts that she tried to keep at bay when awake. Her conscious was thrust into a world of wonder and fantasies that she had no time for. But just as soon as those dreams went, the nightmares came.

The bright happiness that had taken over her mind were quickly diminished by the cold grasp of icy fingers squeezing the life out her. She had grabbed her dagger, yet it was no where to be found. The grip around her neck began to tighten and she was sure that her life was now slipping, but she saw something from the corner of her eye. A figure that looked all to familiar.

He had his dragon glass Warhammer at the ready, charging to the monster ahead of him.

The actions were so quick, that Arya barely had any time to react.

The grip on her neck loosened and the monster turned, plunging his icy sword into the raging bull.  

Arya tried to scream, tried to crawl to where his now limp body lay. She could see the blood pooling on the white snow, staining it crimson. His eyes were beginning to glass and Arya tried to reach for him, tried to hold onto his hand one last time, but the point was moot. The monster had returned his attention back to her, his sword at the ready. She knew her life would be ending, and although she had never been afraid of death, she did not want to see if happen.

She closed her eyes and took one last breath before meeting her demise.

She woke with a gasp, clutching her chest as she sat up from her bed.

Her furs were soaked with sweat and the weight of them on her small body was suffocating.

Arya stumbled out of her bed and began to pace the room, trying to bring the air back to her lungs. It was like the room around her was on fire, invisible smoke suffocating her even further.

She knew what this was, and she had to calm her beating heart before the panic became worse.

Although the events that had played out in her nightmare were nothing but that, she couldn’t help but feel the heaving reality of it all.

Breathing slowly, she tried to ease her nerves and bring herself back to the room she was standing in, not the snow-covered ground with seeping crimson blood. Arya shook the imaging from her head, bringing herself down from the panic.

She sat herself on her bed once more, trying to regain her composure.

At that moment, in her dark cold room, she wanted him. She wanted his strong arms to hold on to her and tell her that everything would be alright. She needed the false hopes and affirmations of peace. She needed to be told that her whole family would not meet their demise in the war to come.

She needed to be put back to together.

But why fill herself with these falsities if she knew exactly what they were?

She could not be put back together, no matter how hard he tried.

So, steading herself once more, she slipped under her furs and stared at the stone ceiling.

“I’m ready for combat.” And waited for day to come.

[catyo90]

The Hunt: Chapter 32

The morning had come quicker than Y/n wished. However, the sight before her was one she would always find comfort no matter what. She had woken before any of the others, she had walked around to see if the young halfling was up to which he was not. When she returned to the fireplace she saw Thorin and the others still asleep as she had also noticed that the sun through in the sky had not passed over the land yet. She placed herself next to the fireplace to see it still quite warm even though there was nothing but embers. Thorin slept quite peacefully for a change as he laid on the floor with his hair lightly ruffled around his face as the clothes he wore the night before showing off a small portion of his chest. She smiled as she laid back down next to him and careful not to wake him. Luckily Thorin had not felt her closer or heard her steps. She cuddled close to him and smiled to herself as the smell of the woods and grass from last night enveloped the both of them. Suddenly she felt Thorin’s arms wrapped around her shoulders bring her a smidge closer to him. A low rumble in his throat caused her to blush as he mumbled in his sleep. The moment could have lasted forever for her but soon reality came. 

Once the sun peeked itself over the horizon. Thorin opened his eyes quite suddenly as he noticed Y/n in his arms. He looked around to see the others starting to wake up. With a small shake to Y/n, he tried to gently wake her.

“Y/n, Time to go.”

She woke with a small yawn covered as she stretched her whole body. He smiled at her not wishing to wake as he helped her stand up. A small knock on the door caught everyone's attention. Y/n decided to head to the washroom to tidy herself up while Fili opened the door and called out to everyone.

“It’s just Gandalf.”

Y/n could hear Gandalf grumble at the statement as she walked into the other room but soon heard him being let inside as the others started to pack up their belongings. Thorin helped everyone outside, Gandalf noticed Bilbo wasn’t awake and was about to walk into his room before Balin stopped him.

“The lad never signed the contract. Besides he is better off here with the other gentlefolk.”

Gandalf mumbled to himself as the others started to walk out of the home leaving for the lands beyond the Shire. Y/n asked for Gandalf to come with as he looked like he was thinking to himself. As he joined her and offered to close the door for her she noticed that the contract was left on the table in the living room, she gave Gandalf a smirk as they caught up with the others. Once they had passed over the hills and had reached the edge of the shire they found a dozen ponies as well as Gandalf’s horse. The entire group started to prepare the ponies for travel as they mounted them. Y/n was given some help from Kili as Fili made sure both his and his brothers wouldn’t roam away. Bombur had to be given help by Bofur and Bifur as he couldn’t get a foot into the stirrups, as for the others they didn't seem to have any trouble. 

As they started to venture on, Y/n turned her horse around to look at the Shire once more. The sight was one she could get used to. The trees turned to a vibrant green as the smell of breakfast being cooked in their homes while the sounds of the day started to wake everyone up. Thorin seeing her taking in the view made him smile as he crossed his arms as he leaned on the saddle at the sight before him. Her silver hair blew ever so little as the sun made her skin gleam like diamonds and her clothes wrapped around her fame only making her more intoxicating to him. Y/n moved a bit of hair out of her face and tucked it behind her ear as she turned around to see Thorin smiling at her. She couldn’t help but blush at gesture as she gently turned her pony into his direction. As she slowly passed him, she placed a kiss on his cheek. Thorin chuckled to himself as the two of them started to head to the front of the group.

After about an hour of traveling, Thorin and Gandalf were arguing to each other on the wasted time they had with Bilbo as the others had their own arguments about the event.

“Wait! Stop!”

Y/n stopped her horse as she heard and saw Bilbo running over the hill waving the contract frantically in his hand with a small pack on his back with a bit of dirt on his feet. 

“I signed it.”

Bilbo said as he gave a quick smile over to Gandalf and Balin as some of the other dwarves cheered on. Y/n look over at Thorin to see he was a bit annoyed and not all that impressed, however, she could have sworn she saw him with the faintest of smirks

“Give him a pony.”

“Oh no that won’t be necessary, thank you, but I--I’m sure I can keep up on foot. I-- I--I’ve done my fair share of walking holidays, you know. I even got as far as Frogmorton once--WAGH!”

Bilbo was cut off as Kili and Fili managed to lift him up onto one of the ponies. Both of them gave him pats on the back as well as a few laughs at his struggle of riding it. Y/n noticed that he was a little terrified of the creature as it neighed causing him to feel a bit uncomfortable. She turned to Thorin holding her hand out in front of him, he sighed as he placed a little bit of silver in her hand. Bilbo noticed Oin yelling to Nori for payment as well. Bilbo who had managed to catch up with Gandalf seemed curious about the matter.

“What’s that about?”

“Oh, they took wages, on whether or not you would show up.”

“And what did you think?”

Gandalf hummed to himself as Dwalin tossed a sack of coin to him putting it inside his pocket. 

“My dear fellow, I never doubted you for a second.”

Bilbo sneezed loudly causing Gandalf to flinch ever so slightly.

 “Ohh. All this horse hair, I’m having a reaction.”

He started searching his pockets for his handkerchief. He started to worry as he was unable to find it. He pulled the reigns on his horse and yelled out to the others.

“No, no, wait, wait, stop! Stop! We have to turn around.”

The entire company came to a halt, the dwarves started objecting and asking what the problem was. Thorin looked very much annoyed as Y/n rode closer to Bilbo and Gandalf who at this point was also a little bit annoyed as well.

“What on earth is the matter?”

“I forgot my handkerchief.”

Bofur tore a strip of cloth from his clothing and tossed it to Bilbo. 

“Here! Use this.”

Bilbo caught the rag and looked at it in disgust. Everyone started to laugh and continue on as Thorin called for the other to follow. Y/n heard Thorin yell to the others and joined him.

“Move on.”

Gandalf and Bilbo continued on as well. Gandalf looked at Bilbo as he spoke the wisest words that Y/n had ever heard.

 “You’ll have to manage without pocket-handkerchiefs and a good many other things, Bilbo Baggins before we reach our journey’s end. You were born to the rolling hills and little rivers of the Shire, but home is now behind you; the world is ahead.”

As soon as the sun had set the company had ended up camping for the night near the edge of a cliff. The others were so tired that they fell asleep a few hours early. As Gloin slept tiny flying insects got sucked into his mouth every time he inhaled, and they were expelled when he exhaled. Bilbo started to toss and turn as the sound kept him up, he sat up watching in disgust. Bilbo stood up and started to walk away from the racket, he noticed Y/n sleeping next to Thorin and for the first time, he could have sworn he was smiling. Most of the other dwarves were asleep; Gandalf, Fili, and Kili were the only ones awake. As Bilbo walked over to his pony giving her an apple, after checking to see that no one was looking.

“Hello, girl. That’s a good girl. It’s our little secret, Myrtle; you must tell no one. sh, sh”

[Bilbo heard a scream in the night air and become worried as he started to back up, looking over his shoulder and around. He ran over to Fili and Kili who were both smoking a bit of old toby. Bilbo noticed the two of them acknowledging the sound

“What was that?”

“Orcs.”

Suddenly another scream filled the air. Thorin, who was dozing off jerked awake upon hearing his nephews mentioning orcs. Y/n instantly awoke, upon noticing he was quite tense placed a hand on his chest to calm him. He looked down at her and grumbled as his nephews continued to scare poor Bilbo, that he looked as pale as the moon.

“Orcs?”

“Throat-cutters. There’ll be dozens of them out there. The lowlands are crawling with them.”

“They strike in the wee small hours when everyone’s asleep. Quick and quiet; no screams, just lots of blood.”

Bilbo looks away in fright; Fili and Kili looked at each other and began laughing to each other. Thorin stood up and signed in disappointment as he looked down on them for them joking about orcs

“You think that’s funny? You think a night raid by orcs is a joke?”

“We didn’t mean anything by it.”

Kili said as he looked down at his hands knowing full well of his uncle disappointment and frustration.

“No, you didn’t. You know nothing of the world.”   

Thorin walked away from the two of them off to the edge of the cliff and looked out over the valley as Y/n walked over to join him she gave Kili and Fili a look of disapproval, which for them was even worse; Balin walked up to Fili and Kili leaning against the stone cave as he sighed.

“Don’t mind him, laddie. Thorin has more cause than most to hate orcs. After the dragon took the Lonely Mountain, King Thror tried to reclaim the ancient dwarf kingdom of Moria. But our enemy had got there first.”

As Balin spoke Thorin membered every moment of that battle, thousand upon thousands of dwarves and orcs fighting in the front of the gates of Moria. The massive pale orc wiping out many dwarves with his mace, then engaging with his grandfather.

“Moria had been taken by legions of Orcs lead by the vilest of all their race: Azog, the Defiler. The giant Gundabad Orc had sworn to wipe out the line of Durin. He began by beheading the King.”

Thorin felt Y/n hand on his as the image of Azog holding up his grandfathers beheaded head as he roared to his army as he flung the head, which ended up rolling to his feet. The pain once more caused him to scowl at the unpleasant memory.

“Thrain, Thorin’s father, was driven mad by grief. He went missing, taken prisoner or killed, we did not know. We were leaderless. Defeat and death were upon us.”

Balin smiled as he looked at Bilbo turning to see Thorin looking into Y/n eyes as she continued to hold his hand with the other on his cheek

 “That is when I saw him: a young dwarf prince facing down the Pale Orc.”

Y/n mind began to imagine, as the story was one she was told in vast detail when he returned, Thorin facing Azog; Azog swinging his mace and knocking away Thorin’s shield, then his sword. With the image of Thorin falling down an embankment and landing on the ground.

“He stood alone against this terrible foe, his armor rent…wielding nothing but an oaken branch as a shield”

Thorin smiled to himself as the memory of him grabbing a sword lying nearby, cutting off Azog’s left arm in the process causing Azog to clutch the stump of his arm as he began howling in pain.

“Azog, the Defiler, learned that day that the line of Durin would not be so easily broken.”

Kili and Fili looked at each other with great pride as Bilbo seemed to be in a trance as Balin told the story.

“Our forces rallied and drove the orcs back. Our enemy had been defeated. But there was no feast, no song, that night, for our dead were beyond the count of grief. We few had survived.”

Y/n looked up into Thorin’s eyes to see all the pain resurface, for it was pain that she knew all too well. She wrapped her arms around him as he, in turn, accepted her comfort. It had become one of a few things he found to make him happy.

 “And I thought to myself then, there is one who I could follow. There is one I could call King.”

Thorin released Y/n from his embrace as he turned around to see the entire Company awake and standing in awe, staring at him. Thorin walked between them toward the fire. Holding Y/n hand in his. Bilbo looked at Balin slightly confused as he brought his focus to Thorin as he asked

“But the pale orc? What happened to him?”

“He slunk back into the hole whence he came. That filth died of his wounds long ago.” 

Thorin had returned to his spot as the others returned to where they slept. Balin smiled as Kili and Fili started to feel the exhaustion cause them to fall asleep. Bilbo looked over to see Thorin readying for bed but noticed Y/n walking up to him. 

“Take this Bilbo, I have no need of it. Perhaps it will give you comfort on this journey.”

Y/n held out her hand holding a purple handkerchief with silver trims with her initials on it. A simple token from her brother when she was much younger but it held only sad memories for her. Thorin called for her to bed to which she hurried to but not before bidding the young hobbit good night. Little did the company know that they were being hunted.

[ragewerthers]

Driven To Distraction

Summary: Prompto is in need of some driving lessons and Noct knows just the guy!

A/N:  This is a fic for my friend @bgn846! It was for a prompt of Prompto needing to learn to drive and Noct finding a way for him to get lessons with Iggy. Pining and Fluff shall ensue!

You can also read it on AO3 at: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18437540

Word Count: 3125

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

The front door of Nocts apartment opened and shut with a resounding thud, the sound of shoes being kicked off and a bag being unceremoniously dropped soon echoing down the hall.

Glancing over the back of the sofa, Noct could see Prompto’s weary figure making its way toward the sofa.  He was still dressed in his Crownsguard training gear and looked an absolute mess.  Even on the toughest days Prompto always still managed to have some sort of sunny disposition or outlook about the harsh training and the drills he was put through, so it was slightly disconcerting as he watched the blonde looking like all hope was lost.  Prompto moved closer and closer until finally he plopped himself on the sofa beside the Prince, looking like every storm had rained on his parade.

“Uh… you okay there, Prom?” Noct asked uncertainly.  This was definitely unmarked territory.  He would’ve never thought he’d see the day there was a somber Prompto in his presence.

The blonde didn’t respond at first, looking like he was caught up in his head for a moment before something finally seemed to settle in him and he let out a little sigh.

“So… we’re gonna be starting a new training regime soon and… I… I don’t think I’ll be able to do it,” he said quietly, his entire frame quietly speaking of his distress as he leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees as he hid his face in his hands.

Noct was definitely worried now.  Setting aside his phone on the coffee table he moved a little closer to his best friend, resting a hand on his back.

“Hey, don’t speak like that.  Aren’t you the one who’s always telling me to lighten up?  I’m sure it can’t really be that bad?  I mean just the other day you were training with that… buzzsaw machinery.  And what about that gas weapon!?” he said, giving the blondes shoulder a little jostle and trying to get a smile out of him.  “If you can handle that thing I’m sure you can handle… whatever’s got you down like this.”

Prompto instantly shook his head, lowering his hands to turn slightly terrified eyes on Noctis.

“No, dude.  The circularsaw and the bioblaster are nothing compared to… to… this!” he said miserably.

Noct had to pause a moment at that.  What on earth could be more terrifying and daunting then learning to use a weapon that could unleash poisonous gas?!

Prompto could see Nocts dismay and he let out a sigh as he ran a hand through his disheveled hair.

“They want us to start learning vehicle maneuvers.  In like… an actual vehicle!  With wheels and steering and everything!”

The gunners eyes had grown wider as he spoke and the look he gave Noct was full of nothing but sheer terror.

Sadly, Nocts reaction was not of sympathy.

“That’s it?” he asked simply, cocking his head to the side as if trying to decide whether or not Prompto was trying to joke and failing really badly at it.

“What do you mean ‘That’s it’?!” Prompto couldn’t help squawking indignantly.  “We will have to learn how to take turns at like… 300 miles an hour!  We’re gonna have to learn how to avoid gunfire and how to break blockades and all sorts of stuff!  Dude, I don’t even know how to put a car into reverse!”

Oh.

Oh.

It was all coming together now and Noct’s expression changed to one of understanding.

“So… you can’t drive at all?  Like… at all, at all?” he asked, wanting to make sure he was getting the gist of all of this.

Apparently he’d hit the nail on the head if Prompto’s blush was anything to go by.

The sunshine child shook his head, looking back down at his lap and flopping back against the back of th sofa.

“Not even a little.  I mean… I could’ve taken drivers ed, but everything here is pretty much within walking distance and besides that it’s just easier taking a bus or a taxi somewheres.  Why learn to drive?” he said simply before giving a little growl of frustration.  “Except now there’s a reason to have learned how to drive and I don’t even know the first thing so I’m gonna look like a complete loser!  What if they won’t let me pass into the Crownsguard because of this?!  All because I thought public transport was a good idea?!”

Noct couldn’t help chuckling a little at that, getting a slight glare from his friend for it.

“Sorry, Prom, but I mean… I don’t think they’ll bar you from joining because you preferred public transport,” he said, the mirth still evident in his voice, even as he tried to reign it in for his friends sake.  “I mean… even I know how to drive so I’m sure they’d be willing to give you a few les-...”

“Waitwaitwait!  Why don’t you teach me?!” Prompto blurted, instantly looking more like his old self with that familiar spark in his eyes.

Noct actually jumped at the exclamation and instantly waved his hands in front of himself, shaking his head just as quickly.

“Sorry, Prom!  It’s not that I won’t, it’s that I can’t.  I know how to drive and I mean… I could get from point A to point B, but I wouldn’t be a good teacher for you at all!  I still mix up which button is the radio and which is the air conditioning!”

The spark that had flared up in Prompto’s eyes instantly died back down into small embers, his body sagging once more against the sofa.

“However… I think I know someone who might be a lot better at showing you the ropes than I would be,” Noct said after a moment.

Just like that the sparks were back, Prompto sitting upright and a look of excitement instantly playing over his features.

“Who?!  Is it someone I know?  Do you think they’d be able to get me ready for the courses next month?  Do I have to pay them?  Will they accept Kings Knight points as currency?!”

Noct smiled a bit at that and gave a hum of thought.

“I’m sure you might be able to talk him into it,” he said lightly.

“Wait, you said him!  Okay so…. Is it Gladio?”

“Pfft.  He drives worse than me.”

“Nyx?”

“Nyx is busy with some of the new Kingsglaive training.  And I’ll be honest… never seen him drive a car before.  Motorcycle yeah, but… no cars.”

Prompto furrowed his brow in deep thought.  Noct couldn’t help watching him with a bit of amusement, leaning his elbow against the armrest of the sofa and resting his cheek on his hand as he waited for his friend to suss this out.

“So… if it’s not Gladio…,”

“Uh huh…,”

“And it’s not Nyx…,”

“Go on…,”

Prompto’s eyes widened and he clapped a hand over his mouth.

“OMG… is Cor the Immortal going to teach me how to drive?!”

Noct had to bit his cheek to keep himself from breaking down into a bit of a laughing fit and shook his head, a little mischievous smile breaking out over his features.

“Close.  Though the guy I’m thinking of is a bit scarier, sterner and more rule abiding than the Marshal.”

“Dude,” Prompto said with the blandest expression he could muster.  “Who in Eos is scarier, sterner or more rule abiding than Cor the Immortal?!”

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

“Alright, Prompto.  Now… I hope you looked over the manual I gave you yesterday and have familiarized yourself with the general signs and markers that you will face in your everyday travels behind the wheel of a motorized vehicle?”

The clipped Tenebrean accent brought Prompto back to himself as he stood outside of an unassuming black car in the middle of a vacant parking lot.

He glanced down to the book in his hands, a beat up old paperback that seemed to have been in its prime about thirty years ago.  

“Prompto?”

“Y-Yeah!” Prompto squeaked, clutching the book tighter and glancing up into the green eyes of the Royal Advisor.

Of all the people Noct could’ve chosen… of all the people he could’ve called in a favour for him… he had to pick Ignis.

Ignis ‘I am the walking embodiment of everything perfect and gorgeous’ Scientia.

Not to mention the unknowing recipient of Prompto’s affections for years now.

When Noct had finally told him who he had in mind to train him, Prompto thought that perhaps his mind had short circuited for a moment.

Ignis.

Ignis Scientia teaching him.

Teaching him one on one?!

The next few minutes after this revelation were filled with spluttering, half formed reasons as to why this was a horrible, horrible idea and finally… with Noct sending Ignis a time a date to meet up with Prompto to start his training.

This was going to be an incredibly difficult day.

How was he supposed to pay attention to brakes, mirrors and chocobo crossing signs when Ignis was right there next to him and making his heart feel like it was going to beat right out of his chest?!

“Yes to reading or yes to me calling your name?” Ignis asked, a look of amusement and mild concern crossing his features.

Gods, that was cute too!

“Uhhh… both?” Prompto squeaked, feeling his ears and neck heat up at his own answer.

He watched as the Advisor shook his head slightly, but he took a bit of comfort in the little smile that appeared to be gracing his lips.

“I’ll accept that as a viable answer though I do hope you will be more certain when we actually get you behind the wheel,” Ignis said dryly, before moving away from his position by Prompto’s side to start to walk around the car.  “If you’re certain that you’re clear on what’s on the road, let’s get you familiar with the car next, shall we?”

Prompto nodded a bit dumbly at this and after being prompted to follow he began to make the rounds with Ignis.

They went over everything.

Tire pressure.

Checking for traps.

What side the gas tank was on.

And Prompto couldn’t remember any of it.

When they were talking about tire pressure, Ignis leaned over and his glasses had slid down his nose a bit.  Prompto had thought he’d never seen anything so adorable.

When Ignis was showing him how to check for traps and had bent over to point at the bumper, Prompto had clutched his chest, his heart unable to understand how the gods had blessed a man with so much.

When they talked about which side the gas tank was on, Ignis had made a really terrible pun involving fuel and it was so endearing how could Prompto dare be expected to remember this information?!

“Now.  Why don’t we move on to the inside of the vehicle?  Go to the drivers side and I’ll get in on the passengers,” Ignis said simply as he made his way to the door.

Prompto’s joy of simply enjoying being with Ignis turned to instant dread.  This was the part he had feared the most.  It was one thing to pretend to know where the gas went in your car.  It was another to actually drive it around and be responsible for the love of your lifes… well… life!

Swallowing down the panic rising in his throat, Prompto made his way to the drivers side and got in, closing the door a little too hard and wincing at the sound.

Glancing over he found Ignis offering him a light smile and his breath caught in his chest.

“It’s alright, Prompto.  Just breath,” he reassured gently.  “You aren’t the first person to begin their driver’s training and you certainly won’t be the last.  Poor Gladio almost cried the first time I brought him here.”

That definitely distracted Prompto from all the things buzzing around in his head as a little snort of laughter escaped him and he covered his mouth with his hand.

“Really?  The big guy was that afraid?” he asked, lowering his hand and looking at Ignis a bit skeptically.

The advisor chuckled and held a hand to his chest before raising the other.  “I swear on my newly acquired Kings Knight points that it’s true,” he joked lightly, making Prompto blush and chuckle in return.

He really was grateful Ignis had taken that as a form of payment.

“I’m afraid Gladio got a little too nervous when we were practicing parking.  He inadvertently hit the gas and we ended up hitting one of the lamp posts,” Ignis explained, his smile growing at the memory before another deep chuckle escaped him.

Prompto could’ve ascended at the sound.

“What did he do?  What did you do?” Prompto asked with disbelief, his hands resting on the steering wheel in front of him.

“Oh… well.  He got out and called Iris to tell her that he loved her.  I went about calling the local garage to come and take the car for repairs.  He still gets jittery when he’s behind the wheel, but he was able to overcome a little fright.  I have no doubt that you’ll do just fine.  Your inclination toward mechanics and engineering makes me think you’ll be a natural.”

Hearing the dramatics from the Shield had Prompto giggling a bit, but he wasn’t expecting the gentle praise and so the blush from earlier only grew till it encompassed his cheeks now as well.

“Geez, Iggy.  Did you give him this sort of pep talk as well?” he asked, giving a little awkward giggle and rubbing the back of his neck to try and dispel some of the heat that had built up there.

“No.  I give praise where I think it’s deserved and to those who deserve it,” Ignis said gently and the tone in which he spoke instantly drew Prompto’s eyes back to the Advisor.

Ignis’s cheeks looked a little pinker now as well and Prompto wondered if perhaps the car was getting too warm for him?

However, Ignis seemed to find himself a bit quicker than Prompto and cleared his throat after a moment, turning away and adjusting his glasses.

“Ready to go over some of the controls now?”

Ignis ran Prompto through the finer points of safety checks before starting the vehicle.  Everything from how to check his mirrors, check the lights and even adjust the seat for his own comfort.

The proximity by which he did this was enough to make Prompto feel lightheaded.

Gods how was he going to drive and keep them safe when Ignis touching his hands to show him the proper way to hold the steering wheel was enough to get him flustered?!

Soon, the real fun began as Ignis instructed Prompto on getting the car started and putting it into drive.

It turned out that Prompto really was a natural!

A natural disaster.

He was brake happy.  As soon as he started going over 5 mph he’d hit the brakes.  It got to the point that anyone walking by would’ve assumed that they were listening to headbanger music and thoroughly rocking out.

Sadly that wasn’t the case and after about ten minutes of this, Ignis called everything to a halt and had him put the car back into park.

“Well.  I can see that we won’t have to worry about you running this car wildly into a lamp post.  Though I do think we may need to schedule an appointment with a chiropractor,” Ignis joked lightly as he rubbed at his slightly sore neck.

Prompto groaned and rested his forehead against the steering wheel.

“Tell me I didn’t just injure you at the speed of a turtle,” he mumbled, making Ignis chuckle beside him.

“Apparently you simply enjoy ‘brake neck’ speeds?” Ignis teased and Prompto instantly lifted his head and gaped at the man.

“Tell me you are not punning me right now in one of my darkest moments?!” he asked, though he found a smile already fighting to make its way onto his face.

Ignis merely shrugged, his own smile growing.  “Would you rather I simply go for car jokes?”

“Try me,” Prompto chuckled, quirking an eyebrow at the man.

“Fine then.  What do you call snakes on a windshield?” he asked, glancing over at Prompto who furrowed his brow before shaking his head.  “Windshield vipers.”

Prompto instantly snorted before laughing.

“Oh my god, Ignis.  I think I broke you!  And it’s only been one lesson!” he said, his smile still on his face as he looked back to the Advisor.

“I can assure you that you didn’t break me.  And… I hope this doesn’t discourage you from future lessons with me?” he asked, his cheeks looking a little pinker to Prompto again.

The gunner bit his lip at that and shook his head.

“N-No!  I mean… if you’re willing to keep teaching me I’m definitely more than willing to keep trying!” he reassured quickly and the smile he received in return had his heart fluttering all over again.

“Then it’s settled.  Would you care to try driving again?” Ignis asked softly.

“I uh… I think I’m good for today, but… would you want to… hang out for a bit longer?  I mean… I know you’re super busy and you don’t have to on my account jus-...”

Prompto was silenced by a hand settling on his forearm and giving it a little squeeze.

“I’d be more than happy to hang out for awhile longer.  Though why don’t we switch seats.  If you want I can show you some of the maneuvers you’re going to be learning in your training next month?” he offered, a little gleam in his eye that had Prompto’s own smile growing.

“That would be awesome!” he said brightly and before long they had switched sides, Ignis now settled behind the wheel and Prompto clutching to the door and his armrest as they all but flew around the vacant lot, taking corners at speeds that should’ve been and most definitely were illegal.

As they rounded a corner on two wheels, Ignis still in complete control of the vehicle, Prompto had three thoughts.

One… he was metaphorically watching Ignis Scientia flip death off with both fingers and he thus no longer feared it.

Two… he was so much more smitten with this man than he would ever admit and wondered if perhaps he hadn’t sensed something in return.

And three… he was going to have to thank Noct a million times over for not listening to him and making him do this.

Of course he’d have to survive this demonstration first.

“Iggy!  Iggy there’s a lamp post there, there’s a lamp post, there’s a lamp POST!”

[leconcombrerit]

Since I have decided to get back to writing, I did a thing to go with this. Kind of a follow-up. Or like, the ending of the story ? I don't know, I've speed-written this just now because I got inspired and you do not reject inspiration or it might never grace you with its presence again.

Anyway, I haven't written in years, let alone in English, so I have no idea if it's good or not. It's important to allow yourself to write badly though, so in case anyone is interested, here is the thing (she said, staring at the thing with more than a little skepticism).

I'd put a warning for character death and blood. Nothing gory, but the word "blood" does pop a few times.

2055 words, it's a quick read.

“Your Majesty ! They’re almost at the door. They’ve reached the third floor already, I-”

Roman had barged in the study, panic painted in blood and exhaustion on his face. His once immaculate uniform and stainless sword were smeared with red. Red, red everywhere. Logan didn’t move. He sat at his desk, his eyes going over lines and lines on the register laid out before him, battle plans and books discarded in an unusual mess on the ground. He hadn’t left the room in days, when it had become clear they were losing. The king could have come down to see his troops; harangued the men and tried to light up the embers of courage in their heart in the face of defeat. He could have put up a better fight, a more flamboyant one.

Logan had never been the flamboyant kind though. His reign had been a stern but prosperous one. He couldn’t recall the day it had gone wrong. Perhaps it had been a slow curve rather than a fork at the road. Perhaps he’d always walked that path, and now he could see the end unfold.

“Your Majesty ! Logan !”

Roman slammed his hands on the desk, sending a delicate inkwell tumble down the floor with a slight chime.

“We’ve got to go”, he said, running his fingers through his disheveled hair, now pacing around the room. Roman had always paid attention to his looks, but not much of the dashing perfect knight had survived the fights that had been going on for days. “Look, we can… We can go somewhere.”

“And where would that be, praytell ? We’re surrounded.”

“I don’t know ! Anywhere ! They’re almost here, Logan !”

He’d choked on the last few words, in a high-pitched voice that seemed at odds with his otherwise combative demeanor. Fear had crept its way up his throat and sat over his shoulders, hunched a little under its weight. Logan raised his head and found it in him to look Roman in the eyes. He wasn’t scared of the angry masses and soldiers demanding his surrender outside -but meeting this man’s gaze terrified him. He didn’t find any trace of the resentment or hatred he’d supposed to see there ; only fear, burning resolve, and a plea to run.

Logan couldn’t say whether he felt crushed or relieved.

“I won’t go anywhere, Roman.”

“But your Majesty, we must-”

Footfalls and armor clatters cut his sentence short and Roman darted a fierce gaze at the door, as if the weight of his will alone would keep the rebels from busting it open once they’d reach it. It was all useless, in the end.

Logan stood up and walked to the window, glancing down at the mismatched army laying at his feet. Some of those people had once been his men. Some had even been loyal. Some had been peaceful citizens, going about their lives with nothing but the faintest idea of what fighting was. Above them, patches of blue skies sometimes shone through the smoke. He raised a hand, the glass cold under his fingers. A man he once called his friend stood somewhere in this crowd, his scarred face probably raised at the castle. Logan wondered if Janus could see him from where he was. He wondered if victory tasted as sweet and as sour as he’d thought it would.

“Patton went to talk to Janus. Maybe -maybe he’ll talk him out of this.”

Roman had joined him by the window, his jaw clenched. He’d apparently run out of escape routes plans.

“He won’t. And even if he did”, Logan added before Roman could retort anything, “it wouldn’t change anything. It’s gone too far already. Even Janus couldn’t do anything.”

There always came a point when logic and reason stopped working. No matter how much Logan had wanted to believe it, they weren’t what moved people, nor were they what held Roman by his side, covered in the blood of people who’d been his comrades, shaking like a leaf and standing a ground that was caving in under his feet.

Maybe things would have turned out differently had he realized this before asking him to kill Virgil. A shudder ran up his spine -Virgil. But he’d been so sure, so certain of his treason -his, and Janus’, and Remus’, and it had made sense, it had been the only possibility to make sense-

Are you happy now ? You had him killed, and now they’ve all betrayed you. What a self-fulfilled prophecy. What tragic, tragic irony.

“I’m sorry.”

“What ?” Roman was frowning, puzzled. It wasn’t like Logan to apologize. It wasn’t like him to even be sorry. “I made my own choice. If I stay here, it’s because I…”

“That’s not what I’m talking about.”

“Oh.”

Logan felt a tight knot in his throat, like a bitter pill he couldn’t really swallow. The words were stuck there, unwilling to get past his lips. Some things are better left untold. He already knew the answer. And still he needed to ask.

“You loved him, didn’t you ?”

Roman avoided his gaze, instead staring at the black smoke coils spiralling up the clouds. The silence stretched for so long Logan thought he wouldn’t say anything. It was an easy question. Had that same haunted look distorted his face when he’d plunged his sword in Virgil’s side ? Or had this ghost been born that night, concealed in the day to howl in his dreams ? Other soldiers had heard Roman cry in his sleep, muttering unintelligible words. Logan could guess what they’d been. He’d known. He’d known as well when he’d asked Roman to get rid of him. But Virgil had been loved at the castle. Logan had thought it safer to ask Roman. He trusted him. He had not cared.

And he was sorry. It didn’t change anything. Apologies did not bring back the dead. They did not make you stop missing someone.

“He was my sun”, Roman finally answered, a slight tremor in his voice, fists clenched over the windowsill. They hadn’t talked about it much. Silence and denial had been a badly wrapped bandage on a gouging wound, and the words threatened to spill out of it now that it had been removed. “I loved him so much. I… I didn’t want to do it.”

“But I told you to. And you did.”

Roman turned to face him. He opened his mouth, but screams and loud bangs at the door cut him short. He swallowed hard, squared up and unsheathed his sword, positioning himself between his king and the door. Any minute now.

“You killed him because I ordered you to.”

“Logan, now is not the time-”

“Don’t you get it ?”, Logan finally snapped, venom in his voice, “they’re getting in whether you stay here or not ! They all turned on me, and you of all people should have-”

“Logan ! Your Majesty”, Roman interrupted him, turning his head to glance at him over his shoulder. “No matter what happens, I’m with you. I’d protect you even if you put out the sun, remember ?”

He said it with a sad smile, slightly askew. Logan could tell when Roman was putting on his brave face. Logan’s chest tightened ; it wasn’t fair. This dumb childhood promise had nothing to do in this room, among the smells of distant smoke and iron, minutes before he was taken away to a trial and a life in a dark cell. It should have stayed in the past where it belonged. A sun-kissed afternoon filled with the scent of earth and gardenias. It shouldn’t have been tainted with violence.

But you did this. You tainted it first. Logan did nothing to silence the voice at the back of his head. Janus had been right about oaths. They held people hostage the moment they gave it any value. Break it and you’ll break your heart. Don’t, and it will bleed all the same. It hadn’t been Roman’s fault. It had been his.

Heavy blows made the door shake in its hinges. The heavy wood wouldn’t last long now. Roman’s joints had gone white as he tightened his grip on his sword.

It hadn’t been his fault.

“You didn’t kill him to protect me. You did it because I ordered you to.”

“Can you please just shut it ?!”

Under any other circumstances, Logan would have shot him a murderous glare -no, he corrected. Under no other circumstances would Roman have talked to him in such a manner. The king said nothing, his back against the window. He had made up his mind.

“You said he was innocent. You told me.”

“It doesn’t change anything now, so quit your-”

“You killed an innocent man to obey me. Surely you can kill a murderer for the same reason.”

“What are you…”

Roman seemed torn between standing at the door to defend his king against the assaillants that would soon break in and facing him to find a clue to what he meant on his face. He didn’t want to understand, that much was clear enough.

“You’re pointing your sword towards the wrong person.”

He took a step toward the knight, praying his knees wouldn’t fail him now. There was nothing to fear about death, he told himself. He knew neither Janus nor Remus would try to kill him, no matter how badly they might have wanted him dead. Patton wouldn’t have lied about this. Remus most likely led the charge to make sure he was alive for his trial. If he just opened the door, or waited a little longer, they’d drag him out and he’d live to see the sun rise many times over again -if he got lucky enough to get a cell with a window.

He hadn’t thought much about death. It had barely been an option. And even on the brink of it, the weight of his own demise barely occurred to him.

He wrapped his fingers around Roman’s wrist, lifting it towards him. It couldn’t be that hard.

“Logan, they won’t… They won’t kill you, Patton said they wouldn’t kill you, so what are you…”

“Do it.”

“No !” Roman jerked back, a mix of fear and disgust replacing any bravado or perplexity he’d shown a second prior. Of course he’d say no.

His most loyal and cherished friend.

“This isn’t a suggestion. This is an order.”

“I’m not taking this order”, he immediately retorted with a cold voice.

“Then you killed Virgil for nothing.”

He spoke faster now, the words stumbling from his lips. The cracks coming from the doors besought him to get it done fast. Now or never. Now. He ignored Roman’s wide-eyed shock and senseless words. He’d wanted to see the world -he’d wanted to be a knight, and an adventurer. Not to rot in a prison for pledging allegiance to the wrong man.

It might have been much too late, but Logan wanted to believe that a last moment change of heart might help him. Maybe he was simply running away -from his responsibilities, from guilt, from failure. He’d be but a footnote in history, and he didn’t mind.

He wanted Roman to be free.

“I can’t lose you too, I can't-”

Logan felt the cold steel pierce his chest the moment the door caved in in a cloud of dust and splinters. He hadn’t thought it would hurt so much -not for long. He saw Roman’s face, and he heard someone scream. His voice, Roman’s, or maybe both. He saw Remus holding his men back, sprinting towards them -he was yelling something too, lost in the chaos and confusion.

If he killed him, if he got on the right side of things at last, then maybe-

Maybe.

Logan thought he heard his name. He hadn’t felt the fall, but he felt the cold stone under his head, and the warm blood under his back, and warm tears that weren’t his on his cheeks -so much warmer than any he’d ever shed.

He opened his mouth -to say something, anything. Maybe that he was sorry. That he wished things had been different, that he too had wanted to run away, and that he’d been wrong, so wrong.

He made no sound. Just a buzzing in his ears, a hole in his chest and a silent hope.

You’ll be alright, Roman.

You’ll be alright.

I got a request about prince Logan and knight Roman and my brain started to do its thing where it strays way too far and, long story short, I doodled this and got lazy. Thought I'd share it anyway ? I kinda like how Logan's face turned out.

I'll be in my corner, doodling my stuff and drinking tea.

[onceabluemoonwrites]

Rose-Torn (Rising)

Fandom: Yuri on Ice

Summary:  ‘You rebirthed an angel as the devil. Is it possible for a God to…’’ JJ’s unspoken question hangs in the air. In eerie unison, Yuri and Lilia throw their heads back, laugh short, sharp and high, before looking at him with crimson eyes illuminating the night. “Darling, love has always been a monster.”

Disclaimer: I don’t own Yuri on Ice

FF.net | AO3 | Tumblr (my other entries: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7)

You can find my writing progress here.  If you can’t keep straight who’s what kind of creature anymore, here’s a list, plus some extra background information for those who’d like to read it!

My fic master list here.

This was written for yoifantasyweek ( @yoifantasyweekfor those interested in checking out the other authors) 11/19/17- Day Seven: Black. I used the prompt “Wrath”.

This is part of the Land of Gods and Monsters ‘verse, but can be read as a standalone fic (If you’re curious about what happened to Yuri before this, I recommend reading Heaven Hatred (Falling Down)) .  You can find a note on the chronology of this ‘verse here.

Everything started in the sea, so the legends tell us. In the beginning of time, Hiroko rose from the sea, her volcanoes budding, splitting the ocean. Seafoam splashing as the other Gods rose. Minako, she who pained the sky, she who painted the sun, she who painted the night. Seung-gil, serene at the bottom of his heart, the stormy top tussling the ocean. Phichit, the World-Born, ouroboros, the serpent biting its own tail. Yakov, the first human, immortalized by the Gods, and the nightmare who was born his opposite.

And at long last, the earth split open, and Love was born. The last primordial to come into existence.

The sea lapped at the earthen opening as the God rose from the molten lava, red-hot earth-essence dripping off his frame. His first breath was sparrow-born, birds flying around him. His first step swan-song, black swans joining the choir. The first flutter of his eyelids invented worship, and by god, what a sight it was.

And there, my dear readers, this story begins.

The first thing he asks, language forged by his very lips, is: ‘’Hey, why don’t you dance with me?’’

The first sentence in the entire world, and nobody reacts, because he is love, he cannot exist without communication, and the world needs to learn how to talk back.

But they don’t. No one does.

At least- not to him.

So JJ tries a spin, lifts his feet, and begins to dance on his own.

The Heavens are made by another generation, reigning the primordials in. The play a tune, he dances to it, for no other music is allowed. The wild things are muffled away, and Love is one of them. Jean-Jacques is chained to earth.

He created speech, but no kind word is given to him. He invented worship, yet no creature not made by him gives him a second glance. In the endless expanse of loneliness, he is only accompanied by his feathered friends, who have wings he does not possess. Doves, swans, sparrows surround him as he cultivates, with strong, weathered hands, myrtle and roses from barren ground. What he touches becomes fertile, if only through his sweat, tears and blood alone.

He is a God, but no one follows, so he stands up and builds his own power, softly and quietly, a Divine Monster indeed.

It gives him power. It gives him heart.

The King of Misfits, they call him, the King of Love. He who hurts everybody and is never quite good enough. They don’t recognize his gifts, the soft emotions, the bonds he gives so freely to every creature alive. Steel wrapped in silk, if you will search for it- love is something to fight for, something to hold on to. They war over it, so they must care about it. It’s fine if they do it for his gift only- he’s learned to defend himself by now. He learns to bluster, he learns to be bold, if only on the outside, his heart, his hurting heart, so vulnerable.

And still, when he visits Heaven and hears the whispers behind his back, he cannot help but flinch. The child before him, the angel-teen, looks at them and sneers. There is no grace in it, but by God, it is holy disdain.

“Take it,” Yuri says, his eyes burning embers when JJ flinches once more. “Take their insults, make them yours. You are a King, now act like it."  He does and dreams of an angel with burning wings, pushing him higher, higher than the sky. 

(The swans call him ‘’Le roi’’ from that day forth)

He never forgets the boy with the burning eyes. They haunt his dreams when he sleeps at night, screaming at him: ‘’What the fuck are you doing, you can be better, you can go higher! Why are you waiting for them to notice you, you fucking idiot?!’’

He has to laugh when he wakes up, because an angel talking like that? The King does not believe it. But then again, he has seen stranger things. The dawn of time is an awfully long time ago, after all. Strange, how the company in his dreams makes his laughter less hollow.

The clouds turn red, a sea of fire in the sky. JJ gasps as they scatter, a speck at the horizon bursting through. A dark silhouette, a boy-man falling, cradled in blackened, burned wings.

Shadows dance across the sky, but it is no despair the picture paints. No, the boy’s arms are stretched out, his head thrown into his neck as he laughs, the sound of his madness resounding over the plains of Earth. Blond hair flying around his face, white skin unblemished, limbs arched, muscles strained to the top of his ability.

Ecstasy must be the name of this creature.

JJ is speechless, his words stolen by the man falling from the Heavens.

This… this is beyond holy grace.

The ground shakes as Yuri lands. The force should have caused his body to break, but he is no glass-hearted angel, he is a diamond with a heart of fire, unbreakable, eternal, his only fear the fire dying, so rage on he must.

He feeds the fire. He feels it in his feet, in his blood, in his bones.

Breathing heavily, he pushes himself up, raking the hair out of his face as sweat rolls off his back. Rolling over, he looks at the sky. Reaching up, he grins, teeth exposed. One day, all of that will be his.

Lying in a crater, wings turned black, Yuri’s chest bursts- his very heart rising to the sky.

One day.

He crawls through the deepest, darkest caverns on earth, to the place where lava flows freely and the air burns his lungs.

There he finds her. Lilith, the mother of all monsters, her hair as black as her soul. She’s facing the flowing stone, alight in red-glow.

‘’Teach me,’’ he breathes.

She turns around, sharp green eyes glaring him down as she raises her hand. Cupping his cheek, she speaks. ‘’Sell your soul. Pander it off to me.’’

Her voice is like a whiplash, harsh, severe and bruising.

‘’Whatever the cost, if it means victory, if it means soaring higher than the heavens and above, then I will gleefully sell my body and soul to you.’’

She nods, her chin a knife. ‘’Call me Lilia.’’

And that’s it.

She births him anew. An Angel, heaven-forsaken, Lucifer he becomes. The Morningstar has always been the brightest, and also the first to fall.

Yuri needs to learn how to dance with the devil, and who would be a better teacher than Lilia for that?

(The nightmare born Yakov’s opposite, the heavens call her. Yuri knows why. Calling her a bad dream is easier than facing the terrifying reality of her strength)

JJ sees Yuri fall- sees him learn to dance as devil on the ground in order to ascend. He thinks: hey, that’s a nice tune! And dances along.

The new rhythm, the new regime… He can deal with that.

Something wretched but beautiful blooms like a rose underneath his skin.

(He has spent too many hours staring longingly at the heavens, at their celebrations far and wide, knowing Love was not invited for he only broke hearts.

‘’Why give a gift,’’ he can hear them whisper, ‘’only to wrench it from us?’’

And it poisons his heart and mind, because can’t you see? I am not death- not even Love can survive without nourishment.)

The saccharine smell of flowers spreads.

Yuri crowns himself the Ruler of Hell, and while Jean-Jacques has no guarantees at all, ‘’Take it,’’ echoes within his mind.

He listens.

The angel is draped over his throne, youthful face crowned by his golden hair, red eyes shining in the dark.

‘’Boy Love,’’ Yuri laughs, ‘’Have you come to join my court?’’

JJ does not say: angels cannot have courts.

JJ does not say: what have you become?

JJ does not say: You are the most beautiful creature I’ve ever seen.

JJ says: ‘’If you’ll have me.’’

Lilia is an enigma and JJ… JJ can’t resist asking.

He swallows. ‘’You rebirthed an angel as the devil. Is it possible for a God to…’’

His unspoken question hangs in the air.

In eerie unison, Yuri and Lilia throw their heads back, laugh short, sharp and high, before looking at him with crimson eyes illuminating the night.

‘’Darling, love has always been a monster.’’

A sirensong is audible above the waves, and it is as if the bells of hell are ringing. Out with the old, in with the new! They scream.

If the Ship-sinker can sing his sailor home, then the world must watch in wonder.

While all eyes are on the reunion, Yuri sets the heavens on fire (white dresses burning).

Marble is pretty, but the slightest acid devours it. Why would the rich soil grow lemons if not to ruin Heaven’s halls?

The Primordial Lovers reunite, but Love followed the Devil to Hell.

Lightning splashes across the sky, and Heaven might be ruined, but Yuri flies too high, and it smites him.

Icarus, he is, wax wings melting, dripping to the earth like raindrops as he falls. His eyes flash red before he loses unconsciousness, eyelids covering the glow of Hell’s bells ringing. His limbs fold to the wind, a ragdoll tossed wherever by the storm.

Lilia cries, screams in fury, but they chain her down, iron manacles biting into her skin. They freeze her, an ice sculpture of sin and sadness. Yakov the Immortal comes to her, his hands trailing over her face, tears dripping down his wizened face. And just like that, the primordial that was not supposed to be one, clenches his fists and goes searching for his pitchfork.

Humanity is good at carrying torches, and he still holds one for her.

JJ stands in the rain, forgotten as always, but accusing eyes searching for him. The roses underneath his skin grow, their thorns showing. He runs across the plains, across the mountains, across the cities and the valleys. And there, in the place of his birth, the flow of magma he was born from, he catches Yuri as he hurtles down.

Cradling the Devil in your lap, what a concept. Carding his hands through golden strands, Jean-Jacques admires the black horns and heals Yuri’s wings by breathing. Sometimes even Lucifer is vulnerable, but JJ will carry Yuri all of his days. On his broken back, if he must.

Love and War have always been entangled, and this will not stop now. It is about living in the moment, about admiring what is there right now, no matter what may come, what may be lost later. It’s about what has been lost and learning to live with it.

That is what this love is.

Catching Yuri was a choice. There is no going back.

Monsters gather in the midst of Gods.  What were the Heavens? They ask. Who put them in place? Who- who made this atrocity happen? They stare at smoking ruins, no answers coming forth.

Some of them turn to power, in all forms, to war.

This is how JJ meets Christophe. The manticore licks his lips. "Not enough- I want more. Oh, won’t you play a game with me?”

JJ’s face hardens, a grin sneaking through his mask. ‘’Oh, I will play you.’’

He reaches into his skin, reaches into his heart, and stretches his arms above his head. He crowns himself with a wreath of thorns. He is the king, le roi, and it is time he makes them acknowledge that.

Yuri wakes, on his head a crown of roses wound from Love’s heart. Laid down on a bed of myrtle, surrounded by the whole wide world gazing at his wounds, but never touching. They’re there, all of them, but he has eyes only for one person.

He rises from his dwelling place, stands on his own legs, and speaks as words should be spoken.

‘’Love, what I want is not anarchy- I need the right of the strongest! I need to soar above all others! Enter the competition, Jean-Jacques. Play the Game of Gods and Monsters!’’

With worship in his eyes, swansong in his feet and sparrows surrounding him, JJ kneels as he yields to war forever. ‘’I will.’’

Yuri lifts his head and smiles, reaching for JJ’s shoulder with certainty betrayed by the trembling of his hands. ‘’Angels only fall for Love. But Love be with the Devil, who would have thought?’’

JJ rises and seals his lips over the Morningstar’s.

Revolution, is their name.

“I think this business of good vs. evil is of no interest to the power hungry”  ― Bangambiki Habyarimana, Pearls Of Eternity

Author’s Note

The Pliroy came out of nowhere and kidnapped this fic.

The ‘’Sell your soul’’ exchange was planned, but then I remembered canon… And went to watch the scene and found out it was so much like what I had in mind. The dialogue is, as a result, very much like the dialogue in their actual first meeting.

Aphrodite is the Godess JJ is based on in this case. Swans, sparrows, doves, myrtle and roses are all her symbols.

I likened Yuri to Icarus, but far more accurate would be to liken him to Phaeton- but I did not because I doubt everybody would know that name.

Lilith was Adam’s first wife, and has been seen as a demon in many incarnations. She also separated from him and refused to go back. In this case, Yakov was based on Adam. Him ‘’carrying the torch’’ was a deliberate movement of war- the flaming torch is one of Ares’ symbols.

Isabella, whose name means “pledged to God”, is one of JJ’s black swans. She’s the first one who calls him le roi.

Aphrodite’s (JJ) different birth was inspired by an absolutely gorgeous piece of Dark Souls fanart by Laura K Cannon ( @laurenkcannon for those who want to see more of her gorgeous art) . You can find the art on the artist’s tumblr here. 

And the post in which it was mistakenly referred to as Aphrodite here. 

Songs I listened to while writing this:

Beautiful monster – Ne-Yo (Yuri’s theme song in this installment)

Woman by Kesha.

Hell’s Bells by Gregorian

My Heart Will Go On by Gregorian

Le roi means the king in French. It’s a play on “Leroy” and French is considered the language of love. 

I made mention of the doves only early in the story because, quite obviously, there was no peace later.

Writing this verse was an absolute joy and I hope you guys enjoyed this journey too!

[king--bee]

Chapter 2- Cordelia

I was running through a castle, but not the Hibisca Castle. Its walls were red and the entire structure was forged from flames. As I was running, I noticed that there was a young woman running alongside me. She looked somewhat like me, like looking in a distorted mirror, with blue eyes dark brown with red flecks like embers rising from a freshly put out fire.  and skin the color of dark chocolate with burns around her wrists. I felt like I had known her my entire life, but I have never seen her before, and I knew that she wasn't me. As that young woman and I ran through the dark hall, it started to get darker. It felt as if my consciousness was slipping from my grasp. The castle disappeared from my vision and my dream changed. I was now standing in what looked to be some sort of courtyard. Looking around, all I could see was sky and I felt more at home there than I ever have in Hibisca. Suddenly, a large wooden door appeared in front of me. Walking toward it, I felt a wave of fear wash over me, as if I was going to my own demise. I opened the door to reveal...the entryway to Hibisca Castle? I walked forwards and somehow I was in the throne room. My brother was on the throne, but he looked different. He looked older and his usually bright kind face had darkened into something meaner. Grayson opened his mouth to say something, but the voice that spoke was not his own. My mother's voice came out, softly calling my name, "Cordelia...Cordelia..."

I woke up with a start. My mother was standing above me in my room. Oh, no. I am totally screwed. My mom never looked furious when she got super mad, she always looked calm, as if nothing was wrong. That was what made it so terrifying. You could always see the anger boiling under her skin, waiting to burst out like lava.

"Cordelia, sweetheart, I am really disappointed in how you behaved back at that meeting yesterday. I expected better of you. You are almost 21 years old and about to become queen of Hibisca. You need to work on your social skills and behavior." My mother said, with a disappointed look on her face. That look always terrified me.

"I know that I could have behaved better, but I am so nervous. I have less than a month until I become the leader of an entire country. And if you haven't realized, that's super stressful. Sometimes I think that I don't even want to be the queen of this place. It's not like I can do anything about our 'situation.' It's not like I can do anything about anything! I would be an awful queen." I said. As you can see, I am not as good at concealing my anger as my mom is.

"No, Cordelia. You will be a wonderful queen. Don't you worry." she said, obviously hoping that her words would comfort me. They did not, as she will soon see.

"NO! Saying that 'it will be ok' or telling me 'not to worry' doesn't work! It didn't work when dad died, and it won't work now. Plus, just as people are getting irritated with your ruling, you decide that you are going to shove all of your issues on me! It is not my fault that you and dad messed the kingdom up so much when I was little!  I am not cut out to run this place!" And with that, I stormed out.  

I ran out to the castle gardens to escape and get a quick breath of fresh air. I hoped that my mother wouldn't send out castle guards to bring me back in. I just needed to get away from all of the people, all of the stress and expectations.

As a child, I loved to climb the trees in the garden when my various nannies and caretakers were looking away, their attention consumed by the latest gossip. It was always easy to get away, seeing as they did not really care about my well-being, just their salary.  As I grew older, though, I had less time to come outside and play; I apparently had "duties to fulfill" and people had "expectations of me." I am glad to be back in my little oasis, though. It offers me a bit of peace and quiet.

 As I was climbing up through the ivy-covered branches, I heard a quiet crumbling sound. I tried grabbing another branch to pull myself up, but me, being the graceful swan that I am, fell out of the tree.

"OWWWWWWWWWWWWW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" The ground hurts. Apparently, the ground also breathes. I crawled off the breathing mass, and it sat up.

"Lissa? What are you doing in the garden? And putting aside the fact that you are here in the first place, why are you sitting in a bush under a tree?" I asked, rubbing my head where it hit the ground.

"Sorry, Cordelia. This is where I come to think when I have a break. Are you okay, though? You fell out of a tree." "Oh, I didn't notice," I said, rolling my eyes overdramatically. "But yeah, I'm fine. Buuuuuut, Lissa my dearest friend, would you help me with something??" "What do you want now, Cordelia?" "Can you please, one, not tell my mom, and two, help me clean myself up after this whole ordeal?? Pleeeeaaaaassssse??????" I pleaded, trying to look as pitiful as possible.

"Fine, Cordelia. As long as you don't tell anybody else that I was back here." "Why?" "Please don't ask questions, just don't tell anyone," Lissa said. I would have pressed more, but when I looked over at me, there was actually a bit of fear in her eyes, so I stopped. "Fine, Just help me."

 §§§

"Shhhhhh!! If you stomp any louder the entire castle will hear you!" "Well, Excuuuuuse me, but I'm not the quiet, meek little maid that was trained in getting in and out of rooms without being noticed, Miss Lissa!" I whisper-screamed. "You're the princess here! You have had 'Proper Princess' training your entire life!!!" "Oh, shut up!" We were trying to get to my rooms, but surprisingly enough, it was a teensy bit hard with hundreds of guards roaming the halls.

We crept through the intricate layout of my home, getting lost only once or twice... Okay, we got lost a ton. I had forgotten how to get back up to my room from the garden entrance. Surprisingly enough, we found the hall that my room was in by getting lost for about the twelfth time. There was one of the castle's many meeting rooms across the hall from my bedroom, so we had to be extra quiet while creeping past and to make things harder for us, the door was open just a crack.

"She has to stop goofing off! When Cordelia does become queen, she will do more harm to our kingdom than help it!"

"Iris, please be sensible. Cordelia is my daughter and the heir to the throne. She is fit to run the kingdom. I just need to talk to her and it will all smooth over. She will be ready to reign in time."

"Your Majesty, if I may, do you think it would be the better choice to wait a few more years and have her brother, Prince Grayson, become King? He seems much more mature, even at fourteen. I think that it would be much safer for the kingdom to have him become the ruler of Hibisca."

"Iris, no. There is much unrest in the kingdom, and I worry that if I stay the Queen of Hibisca for too much longer, it will make things worse for our people. Grayson isn't even of age yet! He is only fourteen! Stop with that preposterous idea. I have heard enough of it. I have to go to the mainland in three days for a meeting on the future ruler of Hibisca with the Inter-Kingdom Congressional Association. I have to tell them that I have decided on the transition and the passing of power. Your whining, Iris, will not change my decision one bit. Thank you for your time."

Lissabeth and I heard the High Chancellor start to walk towards the door, so we just ran loudly towards my room without any discretion at all.  Luckily enough, High Chancellor McCallum was too lost in her own mind she didn't notice us dramatically tiptoeing in the direction of my room. Lissa and I both let out a huge breath of relief as we closed my tower bedroom door.

"What in the world was going on in there?" Lissa asked. "I know your mom was intimidating, but that went over what I had originally thought she could and would do in there."

"I'm not really sure myself, Lissa. Mom has always been calm and collected up until these past few weeks. I have never heard her so angry or seen her so stressed." I said, my voice shaking. "And what was she saying about going to some meeting of some 'Inter-Kingdom Congressional Association?'  I have never heard her talk about that at all. Not in any of her meetings, not at dinner with me and Grayson. Never!"

"I understand your surprise that your mom is keeping secrets from you, but shouldn't you be a little more irritated that the High Chancellor wants to kick you off of the throne and have your brother be king of Hibisca?"

"Well, yeah, I guess. I think that he would probably be a better king than me. I can't seem to do anything right in the area of being a good queen."I muttered, feeling sorry for myself.

"Alright. I am starting to get tired of this." Lissa said exasperatedly.

"Tired of what?" I asked, flopping on my bed to pout. We had finally got up all of the stairs to get to my tower room.

"All of this! The whining, the pouting, and you just feel sorry for yourself! Your pity party is starting to get tiresome. Some people have bigger problems than not being absolutely perfect at everything. Plus, you are going to have a hand-picked cabinet full of advisors to help you! Some of us don't have it as good as you! Some of us were forced by our superiors to get information for the uprising, but we don't want to lose the only family we have ever known so w- oh shit." Lissa's face went bright red and she tried to run towards the door. Luckily for me, though, I was closer and slammed the door closed, almost whacking Lissabeth in the face.

"Care to explain, Lissa?" I said, standing up straighter and brushing the tears off of my face.

"No, I really think I don't. Goodbye, now." She tried to get out of the room and back in front of the door I went.

"Lissa, I really don't think you want to try this with me. I am in a bad mood and that doesn't bode well for anybody who decides to get on my bad side. Now, let's try this again. Care to explain, Lissa?"

"I really don't want to explain, but I really do value my life, so, yeah, I will. But, I am warning you, you are probably going to despise me and want me dismissed from the castle staff by the time I am done explaining." She said, voice shaking.

"You are my friend. If you think that after all that we have been through for the past ten years, I would turn on you from a few words about your past, you are sorely mistaken. I trust you, Lissabeth. I thought that you trusted me too."

"I know you do, I just have never actually had anyone to count on and trust before and I don't want to lose you," Lissabeth said. "Please, don't make me do this, Cordelia."

I didn't want to hurt Lissa. She was my best friend and one of the only people who I could talk to who would actually listen, but I wanted to know so that I could protect her from anything that would try to hurt her. Wait- what? I shook my head, confused at my unusual thoughts towards Lissabeth.

"Please, just tell me. I promise that I would never tell anyone." I said, trying not to worry too much. If I did, nobody would be happy.

"Fine, I will tell you. So, I was born in the Forest District of Hibisca, 20 years ago, to poor parents who made the long journey up and back to the Mushroom District to work in the farms every day. Soon enough, they got tired of doing all of that work for almost no pay. After asking around for a few months, and they soon found out about the Black Hibiscus.  From what they heard, it was an organization helping the people of Hibisca due to our financial situation. They quickly joined. Now, this all happened before I was born so all of that information was just from the stories I have heard. But, soon after they joined my mother had me. I grew up in various Black Hibiscus Headquarters over the first year of my life. A little after my first birthday, my parents were doing something for the Black Hibiscus, a mission of sorts. They...they didn't come home." Lissa's voice cracked and tears started to run down her face. I leaned over and gave her a comforting hug.

"You don't have to go on talking about it if you don't want to. I promise I wouldn't ask about it." I said, trying to comfort Lissa but it didn't seem to work.

"No, I have already started, it would make no sense to stop now." She sniffled and went on. "So, after my parents died on their mission, the Black Hibiscus took me in. I was one of them. According to their rules, I was their payment for my parent's death. Growing up, I saw all of the things that happened in that organization. I wanted to leave since I was five years old. Once I turned I was finally able to get away and get a job here. I hoped that I was safe. I was really wrong. A few months ago, they were able to track me down and told me that they were planning something big. They were. They had a plan to...to assassinate the royal family. They said that I had to find information to give to them. I tried to refuse but they said that if I did, they would find me and ....and kill me as a message from the Black Hibiscus to the entire Royal Family. I have been feeding them false information about you and the Royal Family the entire time. I promise, Cordelia." Lissa broke down and started crying.

"I believe you, Lissa. I swear, I do. Are you okay, though? I mean, death threats can take a toll on both someone's emotional health and their mental health." I said, wiping the tears from her face, blushing as my hand brushed her cheek.

"Hah. Yeah, I'm fine. I just need to keep feeding them the wrong stuff, or I'm doomed. The info has to be convincing, though, or else they will notice that I am just giving them crap. If you have done something to wrong or anger them, the Black Hibiscus will find you and make you pay. My parents should have come back from their 'mission.' I think that they had done something to wrong the Black Hibiscus. I am just afraid that the same fate will await me if I stop."

" I promise that you will not get hurt by this awful organization. I will tell the Royal Guard if it has to come to that."

"Why?" Lissa asked

"What?" I asked, confused at what she meant.

"Why do you care so much about my well-being? I'm just a maid and if I wanted, I could've gotten you killed at any moment for the past 6 months. Why do you care about me and trust me so easily? It makes no sense." She asked, obvious confusion in her eyes.

"Because you are my best and only friend here. You are the only person here that will treat me like an actual human being and not just an object to always treat with faux respect. I respect you for that."

"Thank you. Oh! Look out the window, it's getting darker. You need to get ready to have dinner with your mother and brother in a little bit, right? And you can't exactly go to dinner looking like that." Lissa gestured at my messy hair, tunic and the cuts up my arms. "We will have to get you all cleaned up and presentable if you are going to go, and I'm pretty sure you have to go."

"You know what? I actually don't want to go to dinner with my family. I think that you need more support than they do at the moment. Could we go down to the Staff Kitchen and get a small dinner and eat it up here in my room like anti-social hermits?" I said, my voice rising an octave with hope.

"If I am able to get food from there to here without getting caught or questioned then yes, but just in case anybody asks me if I know where you are, we should come up with an excuse."

We decided upon telling any curious maids and other castle workers that I wasn't feeling too well and Lissa was bringing me food up to my room because I was not well enough to have a full dinner down with my mother and brother. I walked Lissa to the door of my room and gave her one last comforting hug before she went on her way.

"Thanks! Just bring up some little snacks so we can eat and be little hermits up here."I said, watching Lissa walk briskly down the stairs, very obviously trying to look inconspicuous. "ACT NATURAL!"

Authors Note: Yo yo yo, friends! I was having a super awesome day and  I haven’t put another chapter up in a few days so your gracious author had put up chapter two. This is one of my favorites, so I hope you love it too!

[easilyaddictedin123]

Clashing of Wilds and Blood

Part 1 : https://easilyaddictedin123.tumblr.com/post/162841562811/clashing-of-wilds-and-blood

Part 3: https://easilyaddictedin123.tumblr.com/post/163108659911/clashing-of-wilds-and-blood

This can also be read on my AO3 : http://archiveofourown.org/works/11465187/chapters/25705545

A small warning for minor violence! Also shout out to @holy-minseok for the words of encouragement thank you so much!

Pt 2

You took a deep breath, settling into the warm water letting your hair billow around you. Ecbert would take many days to return and no doubt tear Aethelwulf apart for his decision. From what you gathered Ragnar was friend to the King, ally at least, and for his wounds it would be a healthy cost. The lavender scented water soothed your thoughts of Northmen with black hair and startling blue eyes. Such eyes. Feral, vibrant, challenging. Yes, challenging. What an interesting game he'd offered.

It crossed your mind to ask his father but that felt like cheating, “Where is your mind little lamb?”

Maude’s hands carefully pulled your hair out of the water to dry and plait it. You'd been acting strange since yesterday, nothing noticeable to many but to the woman who'd raised you the signs were blaring. The brush was soothing as it combed through your hair, a noncommittal hum answered her.

“It wouldn't have anything to do with the Lordship’s prisoners, now would it?” you could practically hear the disapproving look, “that'd be an extremely dangerous game for m’lady to toy with.”

“Why do you ask questions when you know the answer?” she scoffed at your tone,  “besides it's just a game.”

“Games like this tend to have fatal consequences. But you're still going to do as you please.” Maude shook her head and sighed aloud, “You're too much like your mother, she liked to play with fire too.”

“Really?” it was rare that Maude spoke of her.

“Mhm, always running about trying to push whatever limits that were set for her. “ -the tug on your hair didn't hurt as she continued the nostalgic story- “ Genoveve thought that to be a woman, a true woman, was to bring herself as high as she could to catch God's eye. For the angels to look down and know her so when she was forgiven and sent to Heaven she could speak to them as friends.”

“Do you think it worked? Sounds like she was a terrible sinner.” Maude barked out a sharp laugh at that.

“God forgives all, she would tell me, then be on time for mass on Sundays to ask for it. But if you're asking me, yes, for her sake if nothing else. I loved your mother dearly and I'll tell you what I told her. Rules in life are set for a reason. To be broken or followed who are we to say?”

You bit your lip nervously, “It's about them. They're just so different and the way they think is bizarre.”

“They're fascinating.” she tapped your arm and offered your towel, “ Be it far from me to think you won't continue to see them.”

You slipped on the deep blue dress on with its gold belt framing your hips, and slipped on your shoes. You had to tell Ragnar about his son like promised then speed of back to his son to play this imaginary chess game.

“Y/N.” Aethelwulf’s voice grated on your nerves but you stopped nonetheless and turned to face him.

“Yes, brother?” His face deepened at the title still thinking you unworthy of the status you’d been given on birth.

“A little bird told me something disturbing, my ‘beloved’ “he snarled out the word, “sister-in-law was creeping into the dungeons. It would be a true shame to your name and the name of King Aelle.”

“In that fact, remember who you are speaking at. I am not some mewling whelp and I’ll do as I please when it comes to m-” You expected the slap, you mouth had often gotten you worse, but not the force that sent you stumbling against the long table.

“Do not forget that being Father’s wild child daughter-in-law doesn’t give you full reign and you will not disrespect me. You will not go back down there, you should be punished but be thankful that King Aelle has use for you if it were I -” You cut him off spitting the taste of iron out of your mouth.

“But I am not, and do not forget that.” You let your tongue run against the busted lower lip, it could have been worse considering Judith’s ear and Aethelwulf’s temper.

You couldn’t possibly see Ragnar now with his steadfast guards to man the door to the Northman’s cage at the risk of more than a busted lip. You turned back to the hall making your way to the east wing if you couldn’t speak to Ragnar then his nameless son would; talking to him was safer too. The same guards held position at his door so getting in wasn’t a problem, the door opened and quietly enough to not disturb the sleeping man on his plank.

He looked tense even in slumbering part of you thought that he might even have slept with a weapon. You were quiet in moving to get close enough to actually see him, the light spilling in gave him a kind of foreign look almost like a stolen secret. You supposed in part that he was stolen from his land or did he come here willing you weren’t exactly sure, you’d leaned over too close to him. Calloused fingers gripped onto your arm hard enough to where you wouldn’t be surprised if it broke causing a slight yelp to escape your mouth. His eyes were still sleep ridden and for the barest of moments you wanted to see what he did before those striking eyes cleared.

Your arm would be bruised from the grip no doubt as he released it while growling something out in his language, you rubbed your wrist lightly to try and ease the burn. Ivar’s eyes slowly took in your form. Your deep blue dress, braided hair, face pinched in pain with a busted lip. He rubbed his temples fighting off the memory of waves crashing into the boat, screams of the dead reaching from the depths while his lungs burned. He instead focused on the woman in front of him that was trying to soothe the harm he’d caused.

“Good morning to you too, princess.” Despite the pain that the smile must have caused you offered him it regardless.

“It is a morning.” He gruffed not caring or noticing the nickname, his accent thicker and voice more gravelly it was a pleasant sound after a harsh morning.

You lifted up the front of your dress skirt just slightly to sit down in front of him, “So I thought to go ask your father about your name but that didn’t go as expected besides it’s not fair to our game. So shall I guess?”

“You are very much awake.” He sat up against the wall scrubbing at his face at your attitude that reminded him much of a pup.

“The sun is up and so am I, besides we’ve a game to play.” You smiled up at his still dreary face.

“Good luck.” The smirk settled onto his face that had a way of infuriating you but at the same there was something almost playful in the look.

“I’ve met people named after plants so you’re going to have to teach me some of your words.” He raised an eyebrow at that but ceded, “What’s the word for sky?”

“Himmel.” The word rolled off his tongue with ease unlike the choppiness that cut through the air when he spoke to you.

After a few hours of playing with various words and names he was becoming more and more entertained at the frustration nearly erupting from your bones. You hadn’t stomped your foot like a child although you wanted nothing more. It was his fault. His smug face. Arrogant look in his eyes. Teasing grin when you got it wrong. It was his fault and it was maddening and enticing. It was keeping you from noticing the time flowing by until the door opened and you leapt under the plank in the only dark spot you knew, keeping safe behind the shield of his legs hanging over the side.

Ivar scowled at the walking crypt that held his mid-day feast. Roast, potatoes, carrots and breads. She also sat down a pitcher and two glasses. Maude looked over the boy with a critical eye taking in everything from how he sat, the lines of displeasure seated on his face and the tightening of his hands on the plank edge. Even more the spread of dark blue peeking into the sunlight from under the dark of the plank.

“Next time you decide to hid little lamb don’t leave your dress edge in the way.” She listened to you groan and crawl halfway out to turn onto your back.

“You could find dirt in the snow.” Ivar looked at you while you accused the woman, he had to admit to the sight below him.

Your hair had loosened but not fallen out of it’s braid as you lay upon the ground, the sun splashing on your face lighting it up to let shadows play down your collar bone and the valley between your breasts that looked close to falling out of the dress. It had been tugged down by your flinging and flopping about.

You could feel the gaze on you yet it wasn’t as calculating as it was when you were learning various words to try and put one to his name, this felt close to appraising in nature. You finally tilted your head to face him, a brilliant smile on your face there was no seduction in your eyes. No lying. It was new and terrifying to him at the same time. Despite your busted lip or maybe because of it there was a kind of otherworldly glow on your skin and twining through your hair. The sun. He blamed it on the sun. There was no other reason he looked. No other reason.

Despite being an ocean and more away he could swear that there was a part of him that was rolling its eyes and looking suspiciously like Ubbe, he was brought out of the musing by a sharp clearing of a throat. The old woman had a ferociously grim look set on her aged appearance, Y/N jumped too maybe she was looking just as intensely?

“Your food m’lady to share with your” -Maude tried to find a word besides prisoner- “Your guest.”

“Thank you, Maude.” The voice was dismissive as you glared at the woman trying to get her out of the room faster.

Maude was hesitant to leave. She’d seen it. That pass of emotions slipping from person to person. It was new and breaching but it was there, Genoveve looked at the King Aelle once like there. As if there was something like an ember in the other, something capturing the hooks of her mistress’ being to drag her down into the darkness and crush her. The prisoner being a heathen or not. There was something else though in his that wasn’t in the King’s, where King Aelle had been deceptive interest, this blue gaze was cautious interest. That made it all the more dangerous.

“I’ll be back within the hour.” It sounded more like a warning than an assurance.

You finally twisted and twined further from the plank and Ivar resisted the urge to choke at the motion jostling you back and forth with your groan of frustration. He blamed it on being in four walls with nothing but his own mind, he didn’t want to admit to the voice that had yesterday called him a liar now saying that you weren’t bad company. Christian aside, a faith that you didn’t seem truly committed to in the first place, there might be something hypnotic.

“Seems like Maude tracked me down again.” You scoffed brushing off the dirt from your dress, “ She was always good at it.”

You walked over to sit next to him offering him half the plate, he hadn’t been fed since they’d dragged him away, and the pitcher next to you with what smelled like sweet wine. He tore into the roast while you poured the wine and offered it. He took a gulp and scrunched his nose at the taste making you laugh.

“Why do you drink this? It taste rotten. No ale.” That made you snicker and shake your head.

“No ale.” His lips tugged downwards at the revelation but still continued to eat around your hands that grabbed for food; the quiet wasn’t deafening, it wasn’t uncomfortable, there was a serenity in the occasional snort of impatience.

A glance from the rim of the cup that splashed against your tongue with sweetness nearly made you gag, you couldn’t smother the laughter that escaped when you swiftly gulped down the rest of the wine. Ivar had made slight mess of himself, the gravy sticking to his fingers and where they touched on his cheeks. He looked childish, more human and less terrifying Northman.

He licked his finger still not noticing until you reached over, he jerked back with a look of suspicion, “I’m not going to poison you by trying to get gravy off your face.”

Ivar did not blush, he was a Viking, he was a warrior but regardless you leaned over and he didn’t move, the blue fabric was soft and came away dirty but you just shook it off and continued to drink. The metal resting carefully above your lower lip to not break open the wound again.

“Why did it happen?” You raised an eyebrow at the look of inquiry, seemingly lost as you sat the wine down, it stopped when a calloused finger barely brushed over your lip.

To your credit you didn’t jump instead sat slightly transfixed at how hands that were so rough were surprisingly easy with the heated flesh under their brush, “My mouth tends to get me into trouble, so sometimes I get reprimanded.”

“You’re husband?” You scoffed at the word as Ivar picked up a piece of carrot and popped into his mouth.

“My sister’s husband, Aethelwulf likes to remind me of being a bastard.” You shrugged now finding the seams more interesting than him.

“Bastard? But you’re someone at least by your hands you are, why are you hit?” You gave a half hearted shrug.

“Just because I was taken in and given position I’m still a woman, not like I can do much against it.” Ivar scowled not understanding how someone so vibrant and full of everything could hollow out in a moment to someone helpless.

“You could fight back.” He watched you wince slightly but there was appeal to the thought.

“With what? My wit, I think we both see where that leads me.” You smirked trying to brush off the grave atmosphere with a playful tone.

“What good is your God if he doesn’t protect you?” Ivar smirked at the look of confusion and thought trying to come up with something to say.

There wasn’t anything you could come up with and he enjoyed seeing the small seed of doubt settled into your mind even if you were going to brush it away it would come back, “What would your Gods do?”

“My Gods let our women fight. They’re fierce and battle with us in raids and in the wars of land. The Goddess Freyja fights as well riding into battle where her Valkyries take half of the slain to her house.” He watched wonder cross your face and there was a slight outrage in the back of his mind by how eager you were to know of a woman who could defend herself.

“She takes half of the dead? So they go to your Heaven.” Ivar scooted back to settle comfortably against the wall as best he could.

“What is Heaven?” After long explanations filled with pointed laughter on both of your causes brought him to a question, “What is sin? You Christians say it so much, but I don’t know what it is.”

“It’s an immoral act against God’s law, like lying, or stealing or killing.” Ivar derided at the idea, “ You’ll go to Hell if you commit a sin and are not forgiven.”

Before he could tell you how ridiculous the idea of such things sending one to Hel was the old woman -Maude he reminded himself- walked back in, “It’s time to leave your guest, it’s nearing feast and I’ve let you escape today’s duties long enough.”

You groaned in an unladylike manner to further irritate her, “Fine, but I’ll be back to talk tomorrow.” ,you leaned slightly over, “If not sooner.”

He watched you stand and brush yourself off, throwing your braid over your shoulder with Ivar slightly resisting the urge to see if it was soft but touching it.

“What will we talk about?” He questioned as you got to the door, Maude walking ahead of you.

“Let us talk of Sin, but until then I bid you good eve. Nobody.” He watched you walk out with the thoughts how many sins could one commit that would damn them and why would they be damned for dying well and living life at it’s fullest? He was back in his dark room, the sun having lowered to cast only an orange glow instead of the bright one that left with you, it was colder save for the wood plank that had warmth still clinging to it. The name of Nobody was confusing as well, he’d have to question it. He could see that you were almost a slave to the God but yet you were a form of royalty at the least. Regardless he was willing to contradict you and your sins.

[duskandstarlight]

Embers & Light (Chapter 26)

Notes: Enjoy! And let me know if you’d like to be added to the tag list...

Chapter 26 Nesta

Solstice approached with terrifying speed. Somehow, Azriel managed to carve out time in what Nesta imagined to be a busy schedule to oversee her training when she was in Windhaven. Nesta did not know if that was simply because Rhysand did not want to hold true to his promise to train her himself, or if the Shadowsinger was doing them all a favour by keeping the two of them separate for a little longer. 

Nesta could not say that she was disappointed. Whilst there had been a slight shift in the air between them, Nesta was not deluded enough to think that her sister’s arrogant mate had found it in himself to let go of the grudge he so obviously held against her. From the moment they had met in the Human Realm, Nesta had sensed his disdain and simmering anger towards her. Had dissected what he thought was a flawless exterior as something too careful, too polite. It had not quite been as if he was treading on eggshells, but as if he was having to use all of his power to reign in his own temper. 

Yet, to Elain... that resentment and hatred had faded into acceptance and forgiveness over time. The same could not be said for he and Nesta. Even though it had been she who had fought and sacrificed her life in the war. Even though she had saved Cassian from the Cauldron’s blast. And even though it had been she who had killed the King, tracked the Cauldron and acted as Emissary, Feyre’s mate had been unable to hide the anger that Nesta had allowed her sister to provide for them when they were young.

So, Nesta had made it worse, testing the waters of that night eternal power to see how far she could go until he snapped completely. If their High Lord wasn’t going to bother to try and see the effort Nesta had made, then she would make life hell for him when she started to drown. She spent his coffers, banished her sisters and wrapped her words in thorns of steel. For some, it was not unlike the work of a petulant child desperate for a reaction. For Nesta, it was a method of slow, numbing destruction until she became nothing but a husk. It had been far more dangerous and much deadlier then any of them had imagined, and now Nesta was out of the other side, she understood why Cassian had look so ravaged when he had searched her face and assaulted her with words that should have been like spears to the heart but never hit home.

Even so, Rhys’s hatred of Nesta was a punishment she believed was deserved. Nesta knew that. And she would not take job offerings which were given out of loving duty and obligation to one’s mate. Nesta would only work for a court she did not view as hers if it was because she had worth and use. If she was needed rather than an irritant one wanted to banish. 

This time had been different. The Illyrian cause was greater than the shattered pride Nesta would endure by assisting someone she did not want to be around. And Nesta had vowed to step out of the past and into the present. Had decided she would try with her sisters and start to rebuild who she wanted to be. Nesta did not want to be someone who selfishly stood on the sidelines whilst others suffered. It was true that she had been a victim and made others a victim of her trauma, but she was done weighing up old grievances and her many errors. She would bite her tongue and step forward into the present. And if that meant learning to be civil then Nesta would do it for the females and for Cassian, who she could not bear to make life harder for. 

To think that Nesta might cause him to ache made it hard to breathe. So, should the situation demand it, Nesta had decided she would rise above it. She was strong. She was resilient. She was powerful. 

She would protect and heal. 

Nesta supposed her goals were the same as the rest of the Inner Circle, after all. 

When it came to mastering her ability to read others emotions, Nesta found the power now came to her as easy as breathing. With the acceptance of her magic - the understanding that it was part of who she was and who she wanted to be - Nesta found it far easier to lower her walls. 

Identifying and concentrating on one target was where she had difficulty, but in the end, even Azriel gave more and more praise in that solemn, cold way of his rather than constructive criticism. 

“It’s all down to practice now,” the Shadowsinger had told Nesta after their last training session, as they walked through the camp back to the bungalow. “You know how to do it. It’s just a matter of tuning out the unwanted emotions of others and focussing on those that matter.”

“That’s easier said than done,” Nesta had replied, biting back a grimace. Sometimes she found the background ‘noise’ so overwhelming she wanted to vomit.

“It’s nothing you can’t master,” Azriel replied dismissively, in the way that Nesta had learnt to be a compliment. “As long as you hold on to something as a tether - something to ground you that will always pull you back and stop you from becoming overwhelmed - you will be fine.”

Nesta had glanced sideways at the Shadowsinger as they stepped up to the backdoor of the bungalow. Azriel often stayed for dinner after their training sessions, and Nesta found that she did not mind him joining she and Cassian’s shared space, mainly because it gave her the opportunity to witness the brothers relationship up close. 

Whilst Cassian and Azriel might not have been related by blood, their interactions were bound in a way that melded them by flesh and bone regardless. And to Nesta’s surprise, she found that in a smaller group the Shadowsinger was not so quiet. He had a dry wit about him that often had Nesta biting back a smirk, especially as it was usually directed at Cassian, who would either gape in surprise or let out an unabashed bark of laughter that was so lovely it made Nesta want to both stare and look away.

“Do you have a tether?” Nesta asked Azriel curiously as she held her palm to the door. It was a blunt question that she only dared ask because she had no doubt that Azriel would swiftly cut her down if he did not want to answer. 

“Of course,” Azriel replied as they stepped into the kitchen.

Cassian was by the sink, the sleeves of his tunic pushed up to his elbows as he washed some grains under the tap. He dared to wink at her as she entered, but he didn’t offer any other formal greeting. 

Her blood heated and she ducked down to untie the laces on her boots.

“What is it?” She demanded.

Ariel had already made quick work of his boots, but he flung his wings out of the door to rid them of melted snowflakes. “What’s yours?” he had countered in that chilled way of his, knowing that she would not dare tell him. Would not tell anyone. 

So, she had merely snorted in response, quickly disappearing in search of a hot shower before either of them could guess what she was thinking, dare her mask slip and render her readable. 

On Solstice morning, Nesta found herself naturally rising with the dawn, even though Cassian had told her that it was the one day of the year that Illyrian’s did not train. Crawling out of bed to open the curtains, Nesta had sat in the window seat to stare out at the ethereal, low mists that shrouded the mountain pass and horizon in moving fog. Not for the first time, she wished she were already halfway up the mountainside; a part of the natural scenery rather than separated by glass, so she could see unhindered, the dusky streaks of colour painted across the sky and the yellow strip of light that signalled the sun was ready to start the day. 

Nesta was first to breakfast. Cassian had been in Velaris the evening before and Nesta had not been awake to see him arrive back in Windhaven. He smelt distinctly of stale alcohol as he joined her in the kitchen, dressed in a pair of low slung pants and nothing else but wild hair and endless tan skin licked with ink that made her skin itch.

Sleepily, Cassian batted Nesta away from the stove as if she were an irritating fly, but she only hissed at him with such malice that he barked a hoarse laugh. When she thumped a mug of coffee by his side moments later, she did it with much more force than she usually mustered so early in the morning, and she caught his features soften for a fraction of a second, before he made himself busy at the stove.

They ate eggs and smoked salmon on toasted rye in relative silence, and Nesta watched Cassian proceed to eat two ginormous portions with a mixture of disgust and awe. 

When Nesta loftily gave in to the temptation and asked Cassian whether he had considered saving himself for the Solstice feast, he had just snorted and told her that he was stretching his stomach. After that, Nesta was certain that he ate a third portion just to spite her, but even she couldn’t help but slide another piece of smoked salmon onto her plate, much to her chagrin when Cassian’s eyes glinted triumphant.

It was an hour later when a knock sounded at her bedroom door. Nesta was in the process of pinning her hair with the golden leaf pin Elain had sent her all those weeks ago, and she answered the door with one hand whilst the other held her hair in place. 

“Are you ready?” Cassian asked as soon as the door opened. 

For once, he was not leaning against the doorframe, but standing upright in a wide stance which highlighted just how broad and tell he was.

There was a look of impatience on his face, but Nesta paid it no heed and took a moment to survey how different he looked from usual. Today’s festivities had turned him out in dark pants and a shirt, the collar of which sat just below ink which whorled up the right side of his neck, stopping a few inches below his ear. The clothing made him appear the most human Nesta had ever seen him, if it had not been for the apex of his huge wings which he was holding high behind him. 

As if they sensed her attention, his wings flexed in a movement that usually told Nesta that Cassian was either uncomfortable or nervous. They spread wide enough for Nesta to notice how magnificently they shone, as if they had been thoroughly scrubbed and cleaned for the occasion. Even Cassian’s hair gleamed, as if he had run a brush through it before it had scraped it back into a loose bun.

He looked unforgivably, heart-stoppingly handsome, not that Nesta would ever admit it out loud.

Ignoring the unusually apprehensive expression on his face, Nesta frowned and secured the pin at the back of her head. “Am I late?” 

She had thought she had given herself plenty of time to get ready, but her half coronet had taken longer than usual. It appeared that three months of only wearing a simple plait had her out of practice. At least she had worn a loose braid overnight, which meant that her hair already hung in soft waves down her back. She knew that the Night Court dressed up on Solstice, and Nesta liked Lorrian and Frawley enough that she did not want to offend them.

Nesta had stayed with them twice since the kerit attack at Windhaven, where she had spent her days learning the art of the bow with Lorrian and practicing her healing powers with Frawley.

And the bow… Nesta loved it. It felt right in her hands, the way her muscles strained and trembled as she pulled back the string. Cassian and Lorrian had her working hard on her upper arm strength to the point that they felt constantly sore, but she did not care. Lorrian and Frawley had even taught her how to fly on Caerleon, with Lorrian insisting that when she was more able, they could practice shooting a moving target. Nesta had the sneaking suspicion that both of them had quickly realised that she hungered for the skies, but she did not mind that they had read her so easily. Being on the back of Caerleon, her fingers buried deep in the mane at his neck, was the most liberated Nesta had ever felt, to the point that she had laughed when the manticore had sent her into a nose dive and the wind had howled so fast around them that Nesta and Caer had become a part of the element rather than separate from it. 

When Nesta had not been training with Lorrian, Frawley was teaching her how to harness her healing power. The witch had Nesta look inwards to her two strands of her magic, until Nesta could pick them apart with ease, summoning either silver or white at her palms. When she had mastered that, Frawley had plucked flower after flower from the forest floor, had them wither in her open palm and ordered Nesta to bring them back to life. 

It wasn’t so much bringing things back from the brink of death that Nesta struggled with, rather it was knowing when to stop. The key, Frawley had told Nesta, was to constantly observe the patient as she healed. To understand what injuries were fresh and required immediate life-saving attention and what was old enough to be left well alone. The former always shone with a pressing light when Nesta’s magic passed over it, whereas the latter took on a dull, shadowy quality. There was also the matter that Nesta’s power reserves could swell to unprecedented levels, of which the bottom was determined by the energy she had sequestered. 

The solution, Frawley had told Nesta, was to know what her reserves felt like, so that when her magic started to give out Nesta would know to stop. 

That had been easier said than done, and it had taken Nesta hours to reach into herself and travel down, down, down to scrape the bottom of her own power.  

“You will know when you reach it,” Frawley had only told Nesta with an infuriatingly mysterious air that had Nesta wanting to snarl.

But she had. It tasted like the last, bitter dregs of tea and metallic blood. It felt wrong and life threatening, enough for Nesta to pull away so sharply that Frawley had patted a shaking Nesta on the shoulder and passed her a steaming mug of energising tea.

But what Nesta hadn’t told Frawley was that she didn’t just sense white and silver when she looked within herself, but something else. Something hidden behind a veiled curtain which she couldn’t quite touch. A terrified part of Nesta wondered if it was the chunk of the Cauldron she had taken. The piece of inky black which sung of darkness and terror. Nesta had not found the words to ask Frawley about it. Was too scared about what it meant. That perhaps there was something rotting inside of her that would taint her soul and those around her.

It sung to her, the veil. It whispered reverently when she brushed against it. Her name over and over: Nesta, Nesta, Nesta.

She had stayed well away from it, after that, but sometimes she heard it whisper softly, the sensation like her power turning over in her veins.

Like now, as Cassian stared at her rather than reply, his hazel eyes darkening as his pupils widened and pressed against his irises. 

Nesta tried and failed not to feel self-conscious. She smoothed down her midnight blue dress and walked past him, her back straight. 

“You’ll need to shield my hair,” Nesta clipped, as she headed to the hooks by the door and slipped on her coat.

When she turned, Cassian was still staring at her with something that Nesta almost wished was longing.

She wanted to bite her lip, but she wouldn’t allow herself to do it. “Aren’t we going to be late?” she clipped.

Slowly, Cassian blinked. Then, his gaze dropped to her feet. “Are you going to wear those shoes?”

Nesta scowled. “Yes.”

“They’re not practical for flying.”

“I’m not flying, I’m being carried. And is it not custom to dress nicely for Solstice?”

She stiffened as those sharp eyes dragged over her body with such intensity Nesta felt as if her skin were entirely bare. 

“It is custom,” Cassian agreed eventually, his voice so impossibly low she felt it rumble through her bones. Even as there was a bite to his words that suggested he was holding something back. 

Perhaps how she had not bothered the year prior.

Nesta nodded as if to indicate that the matter was settled and wound a scarf around her neck. “Don’t set me down in any mud or snow and I won’t find it in myself to set you on fire.” 

A derisive snort but no jab or jest as he opened the front door. Cassian stepped onto the concrete step just beyond the threshold and with a flare of his siphons, light-weight armour clicked into place scale by scale over his dark clothes, the action like a ripple of water.

He held out his hand to her. Nesta glared at him but squeezed onto the step beside him. His hands wrapped around her, gathering her to his impossibly warm body and the steady, reliable beating of his heart. He smelt wonderful — of woodland and bracing blue sky which sung Illyria. Begrudgingly, Nesta held on to him, absorbing herself even more in his scent as he shot them into the sky.

They travelled in silence for a long while, Cassian unnervingly quiet. Usually it was he who struck up conversation and Nesta found it disconcerting to be yearning to speak with him rather than the other way around.

She twisted her head up to look at him: the dark eyebrows that always made his hazel eyes stand out so brilliantly; the tan, freshly shaved face which took the ruggedness out of his features; the ebony hair pulled back into a casual bun that she had come to favour on him. 

To his credit, Cassian had listened to her about her own hair, casting a shield that was void of the gentle breeze he usually allowed to filter through. Instead, Nesta was warm, the 

gentle pulse of his siphons indicating that he was expelling his magic to alter the temperature for them both. 

“You look clean,” Nesta observed, when she knew she had studied him for too long. He was deliberately not acknowledging her blatant staring. “Is this your first and only bath this year?”

Cassian snickered. “Very good, sweetheart. It’s good to see that the festivities haven’t smoothed over your sharp edges.”

“I wouldn’t want to bore you,” Nesta remarked drily, watching the craggy terrain; the snow capped mountains and the stretch of pine ahead of them. “Consider it a Solstice present.”

A laugh then, soft and throaty. More like himself. “You’ll have to save that fire for the lords tomorrow, sweetheart. It is no way to speak to your beloved.”

Sharply, Nesta craned her neck up to find him smiling down at her. It was a wicked smile that Nesta suspected he had willed into existence solely to stoke her fire.

“What,” she spat. Demanded.

Cassian’s canines flashed. “Consider me your Solstice present. I’d have wrapped myself in a bow, but we were in a rush.”

Nesta glared at him with such ferocity she imagined him burning into cinders. “And when were you planning to tell me that I have to pretend that we’re...” She trailed off, suddenly at a loss to carry on.

“Dating? Courting? Fucking?” Cassian said the last word with a grin that turned feral. 

Nesta snarled at him with such savagery that Cassian choked on a laugh. His hazel eyes flared amber. 

“If you start smoking I’ll have to drop you,” he warned, as silver sparked from her fingertips. “And I planned on telling you now,” he admitted. There was no apology in his voice, if anything it only carried amusement and a faint layer of… something else. “I thought it best to tell you when we were suspended in midair for my safety.”

“Insufferable,” Nesta muttered under her breath, irritated that she could not let go of him and cross her arms over her chest. “Not only am I to be stuck in a room full of Illyrians, but I have to pretend to be bedding the most irritating of them all.”

“Feel free to boast about my technique to those assholes at any point,” Cassian snickered wryly, but then his playfulness dropped at his next words. Nesta suspected he’d glanced down and seen her solemn expression, “Think of it as an unpleasant few hours for the sake of finding out more information.”

“Who do you usually take?”

A beat of silence followed her demand. Then, “Nobody.”

A disbelieving frown pinched between her eyebrows. “Ever? Not even your friends?”

She craned her neck to look up at him.

“It’s partners only,” Cassian explained, but he was looking ahead of them with an intensity that told Nesta he was deliberately not meeting her eye. “I very rarely have one and never one who I think could hold their own amongst the vultures.”

Some tension bled out of Nesta. She would have thought that Mor might have accompanied him at some point. Those lines were so blurred Nesta had no idea what to make of them other than that she hated it. Would never not hate it. 

The amusement had faded from Cassian’s features and a muscle ticked in his jaw. He suddenly seemed angry and Nesta didn’t know whether it was her reaction or another memory. And perhaps her reaction to pretending to court had wounded him, especially given their turbulent past. Sometimes Nesta did not know where they stood with the other. The bond strung between them made everything so complicated, so much more difficult than other narratives. To understand what was fact and fiction. Lust and love.

The thought of pretending they were together, even for two days made it difficult to breathe. It was another twist in their storyline - another complicated strand, which warped what was honest and true. 

“Don’t worry, Illyrians aren’t big on public displays of affection,” Cassian assured her, breaking her out of her worrisome thoughts. His dark eyes found hers again, and they looked a little sad, as he admitted, “The males here don’t cherish females the way they should.”

It took everything in Nesta to suppress the shiver that wanted to crash over her body and remain silent. They were tiptoeing around today, using banter and sharp words to cover up what had happened last year. How she had dismissed him so brutally… so effectively. How she had heard the water splash and ripple as he threw her gift in the river. How he had followed her anyway until she lit a light in her apartment, his wings a steady beat as she sunk to the rickety, splintered floorboards utterly numb.

It was not Cassian’s cruel words from that evening that haunted her — not even hers did — but it was oddly the vulnerability in his expression as he finally let her leave that repeatedly churned in the forefront of her mind. That made her think that perhaps Cassian had been genuine. That he wasn’t embarrassed of her, even if his actions — the way he ignored her when his friends were around — insinuated that he did. That he truly had wanted her, enough to swallow his pride and follow her. To continue to flirt and fight for her, even now.

But when Nesta remembered how he had laughed as he held up the satin undershorts from Mor, red slid over her vision. 

Cassian seemed to sense that displeasure, remaining silent for the duration of the journey.

Caer trotted out to meet them as soon as they landed outside Lorrian and Frawley’s, his tufted tail dancing in the shape of a question mark. Smoke billowed from the crooked chimney of the cottage and the smells that wafted towards them on the soft breeze were so divine Nesta’s stomach grumbled. 

Frawley met them at the open stable door, and to Nesta’s surprise, she bent to place a swift kiss on each of Nesta’s cheeks. She was wearing another dark dress the colour of smoke, the underskirts laced with a misty tulle that shimmered beautifully in the light. 

“Happy Solstice, Nesta,” Frawley said brusquely. “We’re being thrown to the wolves tomorrow so we’ll have to make today a pleasant one.”

Cassian’s laugh was low in Nesta’s ear. “If past experience is anything to go by, I’d predict that Nesta will be the wolf and they the sheep,” he corrected, as they both stepped into the warmth of the cottage.

Lorrian appeared behind Frawley as he stepped into the hallway from the living room. His chuckle was deep and delighted. “I’m looking forward to witnessing that.”

Frawley’s grin was terrifying as she levelled her gaze with Nesta’s. “Surely they do not still think you’re a witch after the kerit attack?”

“No,” Nesta said slowly, thinking of Devlon’s begrudging acceptance of her. How the Illyrians no longer looked as if they might spit at her. At the distance the males gave her, as if she were finally a threat rather than a pawn in their game. “They don’t know what I am.”

“That probably terrifies them more,” Cassian told Nesta with a devilish grin as they followed Lorrian and Frawley into the living room. 

Like the rest of the house, fresh greenery had been wound into garlands around the room. Beautifully arranged teardrop swags hung beneath the faelights on the white-washed walls: bundles of pine, cones, holly and its ruby berries, ivy and honeysuckle vines. 

“Mulled wine,” Frawley told Nesta, thrusting a large mug into her hand. “I’ve magicked it to remove the alcohol. It practically tastes the same. Lorrian likes it, anyway.”

“It’s the closest I’ve had to the real thing,” Lorrian told Nesta with an easy grin as he finally moved forward to greet her. He bent to kiss both of her cheeks in an air of heat laced with sandalwood, the close cut of his stubble rough against her skin. “You look beautiful, as usual,” he told her. 

Nesta’s snort was a soft dismissal, but she was secretly pleased. The dress she was wearing had hung off her months ago. She’d still had Mas take it in a little, but she saw her outfit as a symbolic triumph, having finally gained back the majority of the weight she had lost so dangerously after months and months of denying herself sustenance.

“Come,” Frawley beckoned to Nesta, “I’ve put your armchair close to the fire. You’re as bad as Caerleon. Sometimes I think he’d sit on top of the hearth if he could.”

Nesta’s lips twitched but she didn’t comment. It was true that now Nesta could light fires of her own, she could enjoy sitting by the hearth without fearing that it might send her into a downward spiral. Not that Frawley hadn’t taken care of that herself the two times she had visited, and as expected, the fire was already silently eating the glowing wood that had been stacked into the grate.

At the mention of his name, Caerleon padded towards Nesta just as she took a seat in the armchair and pressed his large head into Nesta’s lap. Burying her fingers into the beast’s soft, shaggy mane with her spare hand, Nesta huffed a laugh as the manticore let out a low whine in greeting. 

“How do you usually celebrate Solstice, Nesta?” Lorrian asked conversationally, as he seated himself in the twin armchair opposite her and stretched out his long legs. 

Nesta didn’t have to glance at Cassian from where he had settled on the low-back couch to know that his expression had turned tight. She felt the trepidation in her stomach. The more and more she dropped her emotional guard, the more keenly she felt him, even through the shield of fire he had resurrected around himself. 

“Solstice isn't celebrated in the Human Realm,” Nesta replied in a way that she hoped came across as unaffected. 

“Of course it isn’t,” Frawley interjected, glaring at her husband with an intensity Nesta was glad she was not on the receiving end of. 

“Well, the good thing about Solstice is the food,” Lorrian told Nesta with an easy grin. “If you need a motivation to start celebrating it.”

Nesta harrumphed in the back of her throat. “I’ll bear that in mind.”

“Speaking of food...” Cassian started hopefully.

Frawley rolled her eyes but dumped a plate of pastries unceremoniously into the warrior’s lap. “Lorrian made these solely to tide you over until dinner.” She tutted as Cassian began to tuck in with gusto. “I’ve never witnessed anybody eat so much and I live with an Illyrian. Did you train this morning?”

“No,” Cassian said around a mouthful of pie. His voice was incredulous — offended, even. “It’s Solstice, witch, or have you forgotten in your old age?”

“I would not put it past you to train three hundred and sixty-five days of the year,” Frawley snapped in retort, “for fear that one day off would have those muscles of yours shrinking.” 

When Frawley’s ice blue eye rested on Nesta, it was not sparking with anger but amusement, even as her face remained impassive. She and Cassian often bantered like this; with Frawley seemingly infuriated and Cassian prodding insults. “Am I wrong, Nesta?”

Nesta did not try to fight the slight curve of her lips, she was too amused by Cassian’s mouth which had gone slack. Thankfully, it wasn’t full of food. “No, he preens and puffs like a rooster.”

Lorrian threw his head back and laughed. Frawley snorted with delight. Grinning, Cassian stood to offer Nesta a mince pie with twinkling eyes. 

Surprised, Nesta cocked a challenging eyebrow at him.

What she had said wasn’t true. Cassian’s physique was all to do with being a cut above the rest. He trained with an intensity that sung of a determination to prove that he was worthy. He allowed his body to become battered and bloody, his knuckles bruised and his hands calloused. He wore scars as if they were armour… as if they were akin to the black tattoos that licked up his body. Symbols of luck and glory and proof that he would endure, above all else. 

So much of Cassian was worn on the surface if you chose to look. 

And she certainly wasn’t complaining about his figure. Even if just staring at the corded muscles of his body made her fill with a liquid heat that both embarrassed and thrilled her… She had wondered on more than one occasion what it might feel like to straddle the vast width of him… to allow her fingernails to bite into his sizeable shoulders as she sank down onto him. The way he’d groan, the sound guttural in the depths of his throat. She had dreamt about it more times than she’d like to admit. She knew what it felt like to have his phantom lips bruise her skin and his teeth scrape at her pulse point. Knew what it felt like for that relentless drive to hound her blood, each throb of her veins pulling her towards him. 

But if her blood was desire, her mind was logic and she knew why she felt like that. Why he felt like it too, sometimes.

So she kept her ribcage close around her heart. It was a shield rendered with gaps but it worked just fine if she fortified it with ice. 

Those glowing amber eyes did not leave hers as she took a sweet pastry dusted with sugar from the plate. For a terrified moment, Nesta thought that he knew what she had been thinking, but then he turned to Frawley and said with such casualness it took her a moment for the words to sink in, “Not all of us can look as effortlessly devastating as Nesta.”

Cassian didn’t look at her for a while, after that. 

  The day was not like the previous Solstice: full of gifts and banter that she was not a part of. Nesta did not spend her time shying away in the corner for fear that the fire would make her power finally roar. 

There was food. Lots of variety without being excessive. Roast meat, potatoes and steamed vegetables. Battered savoury pudding, gravy and pigs in blankets. Nesta ate more than she usually would, each dish so delicious she could not help what she piled onto her plate until she was practically bursting at the seams. 

Afterwards, Nesta helped Frawley to carry the dirty dishes back to the kitchen. Lorrian had done the majority of the cooking and Frawley had woefully admitted that meant it was her job to clean up. Nesta had risen without thinking and in a blink of an eye she had her hands submerged in water and bubbles.

Frawley was telling Nesta that it was she and Lorrian’s anniversary the day before Solstice. That they had decided to become chroi on that day many years ago, and had the magic seal their intents a few hours later.

Despite Frawley’s fierce edges, the witch softened when she spoke of her husband in a way that told Nesta that the love ran deep. Not that Nesta couldn’t see that plainly before her whenever the two were in a room. They had a way of moving together that was completely at ease: respectful and kind and pure and accepting. 

It made Nesta hungry for the love she had read about in her books. But she knew better than to believe she was deserving of it.

“How did you know Lorrian was the one?” Nesta asked curiously, as Frawley detailed how they had decided to intertwine their lives the same day in front of the other witches.

Taking a plate from Nesta, Frawley began to dry it with a seriousness that told Nesta that she was thinking hard. “I’ve lived a long life,” Frawley said eventually. “After a while, night and day become repetitive. Boring. I didn’t realise I’d fallen into a rut until I met Lorrian. He made me feel alive again.” She shrugged, the action unlike Frawley as she pinned Nesta with both her eyes. “And Caer liked him. Caer has always been an extension of me in some ways, so I knew that Lorrian was right. We fit like two puzzle pieces. We didn’t try to change who we were for the other, but our love made us happier, more content, even in the face of great challenges.”

Nesta wondered if Frawley was referring to their lost witchlings as well as Lorrian’s arm. She could not imagine losing something so precious. The thought made her heart ache with such intensity she wanted to run away for a moment, before she reminded herself that emotion was part of life. It was better than being numb.

Nesta wanted to see the world in colour, not in black and white. Training with Azriel had taught her that. 

“It must be nice,” Nesta observed after a moment, “to know you both chose one another. That you had a choice.”

Both eyes swivelled to rest on Nesta’s face. The effect was alarming. Nesta was used to them moving independently rather than together. “Everyone has a choice in love, Nesta.”

Nesta opened her mouth to speak but then Lorrian and Cassian entered the kitchen laden with more dirty dishes. Lorrian mentioned a dessert he needed to take out of the larder and Frawley turned to help him. 

Whilst Nesta’s stomach was full in a way that was uncomfortable, her ears perked up at the thought of something sweet, as if it would cut through her savoury food coma.

“I have something I’d like to show you,” Cassian said into Nesta’s ear, as Frawley batted away her husband with a tea towel. He was trying to take the pudding she was carrying from her. “Will you come with me?”

Nesta cast a look at Lorrian and Frawley, but they were still both fussing over the Christmas pudding to notice them. So she nodded and followed him out the back door and into the crisp night air. Already a layer of frost dusted the greenery on the forest floor and pine needles, but Cassian quickly cast a bubble of warmth around them. It had not snowed, a rarity for this time of year Cassian had told her earlier, especially in Illyria which was usually deep in blankets of snow by now. 

Gesturing to the outbuilding to the left of the cottage, Cassian walked ahead of her, his large wings bobbing behind him as he moved. They flared slightly as he slid open the huge wooden door, before quickly tucking themselves back in, no doubt to protect them from the bitter cold wind which was doing its best to cut through his shield. 

It took Nesta’s eyes a fraction of a second to adjust to the darkness, her Fae eyes gifting her with far better sight than her human body ever had. 

She stared around the barn — the bails of hay, the wooden rafters… 

She twisted to look up at Cassian, a frown on her face. “What am I looking at?

“There," Cassian said with a jut of his chin. Nesta followed the direction he had pointed in and then her eyes went wide.

There, on a makeshift bed of hay was a manticore. It was not like Caer. There was no orange mane, only beautiful sandy fur and a handsome, elegant head, large ears and huge, almond eyes. Her leathery wings were smaller than Caer’s but in proportion to her body and tucked in tight. 

Her amber eyes glowed in the dark, that regal head cocking as her gaze clicked into place with Nesta’s. That one look had Nesta’s heart thumping in her chest. It was not from fear, but utter awe. 

“Do you know the associations surrounding manticores?” Cassian asked. His voice was low in her ear. Intimate.

Frowning, Nesta dragged her eyes away from the manticore with regret. “They are an apex predator known to devour their prey whole,” Nesta said, reciting what she had been told since she was young. “They are vicious and deadly and cannot be overcome by man.” 

But even as she said the words, Nesta knew them not to be true, because she knew Caer. Knew his empathetic heart and the way he had comforted her when she was sad. “Obviously, that’s another human myth that holds no truth,” she finished with a lift to her chin, daring him to laugh.

But Cassian did not mock her, he only nodded. “Yes. Manticores are ruthless creatures and because of their ability to kill with such ease they have been labelled as bringing strife and suffering to the world. But that is not true. Manticores are rare and hard to come by because they are born from the blood of true sacrifice.”

Nesta wondered what Frawley had done to earn Caer’s loyalty. For him to serve her above all others. From what Cassian had told her, Caerleon had been with Frawley for so long even history could not pinpoint an exact date. 

“Rhys found this manticore in the spot where you healed Mas.”

A long, long silence. “Frawley took her back to The Steppes to raise her. Manticores grow incredibly quickly, as you can see, but are incredibly vulnerable when they are young, largely because their wings are not fully developed. Fae and humans alike also have a nasty habit of trying to kill young manticores as it is when they are at their weakest. They try to damage their tails so they cannot take life from range and injure their wings so they never develop.

The thought made Nesta’s stomach roll. To harm something so beautiful and pure. 

“Sala is only two weeks but she has already taken adult form. Only a fool would try to take her down now.”

“If manticores are so deadly, why isn’t she trying to kill us?” Nesta breathed, her gaze again connecting with the beast’s. 

“Because we believe that she is yours, if you want her.”

“She’s mine?” Nesta asked sharply, too surprised to arrange her expression into one of indifference. “How do you know?”

At the words, the manticore raised her beautiful, beautiful head. Golden eyes settled on Nesta as leathery wings unfurled from the beast’s back — stretching — as if she had woken from a long sleep. She rose until she was on her haunches and then her four huge paws. 

The beast padded towards them, her hips slinking, her head low and assessing. Yet none of it was threatening. Instead, Nesta only felt a rush of calm as the manticore moved towards them. She stopped in front of Nesta, so close that Nesta could feel the warmth of her breath on her skin, could see that close up the shimmer of gold in Sala’s eyes, the dotted muzzle and the long, pointed incisors. 

And then, the beast hopped up onto her haunches, her impossibly large paws coming to rest on Nesta’s shoulders. Despite the enormity of the animal, Nesta remained grounded without having to brace herself. Mesmerising gold filled her vision. It was an ancient, omniscient stare that sung of wisdom and knowledge, of years lived and lived and lived. 

And then Nesta saw herself: a reflection of silver-grey; of elegantly pointed ears; of pale skin and pink lips; as if she had become a part of the beast, their lives entangled. Bowing her large head, the manticore closed the distance between them and rubbed her forehead against Nesta’s. 

The action was gentle — a familial caress — and when the beast was done, she kept her head against Nesta’s, the gesture solicitous and binding. They breathed together, their chests moving at the same time, and Nesta revelled in the softness of Sala’s fur and the affection that laced the movement. The implication behind it.

“A manticore chooses an owner it deems worthy. Someone pure of heart.” 

Cassian’s voice was a low rumble as Sala dropped to all fours. When Nesta twisted around to look at him she found him leaning against the barn, as if he had stepped away to give she and Sala space. His smile was crooked and so beautiful Nesta wanted to touch it; to trace the lines of his mouth where it curved upwards. But most of all, to draw the lines that creased around his eyes that softened the wildness of his features. 

“The tuft of her tail is made of silver fire, which is also a giveaway,” Cassian mused, his hazel eyes glowing with what Nesta dissected as amusement. Had she been staring at him a little too long? “Manticores take on elements of their partner.”

Nesta hadn’t even noticed Sala’s tail, but now she could see the trail of silver flame as the tip flicked slowly from side to side in the dark. 

The ice that protected everything creaked and cracked at the sight. 

Nesta let it. She wanted to refute it — to tell Cassian that he was wrong and Sala wasn’t hers — but the moment Sala had rested her heads on hers, she knew that they were bound together. The manticore made her blood sing, as if their paths were irrevocably entangled in such a beautiful way that Nesta daren’t question it. It was a similar feeling she had encountered when Cassian had delivered the letter in the Human Realm; that compelling pull of destiny.

After the war, Nesta had thought they were done. That she and Cassian had made history and were now travelling on parallel paths of a forked road. But now she was not so sure. She had not been sure for a while now. 

“And what if I were of bad intention?” Nesta asked, smoothing her palm over the manticore’s head. The fur was as soft as the finest silk; the touch so divine that Nesta wanted to bury her face in the beast’s ruff and breathe her in again.

A frown worried itself onto Cassian’s expression. Nesta pushed it to the periphery, keeping her attention focussed on Sala. 

Nesta had thought revenge would be sweet. Thought that killing the King would have rendered her new and swept away all of the regrets and the pain of the past, but it had only set a deep fear within her. What if her palms only sung death and destruction? What if  she was evil and cruel and a thorn in the side of everyone she met? What if she was bloodthirsty and she would not stop until she had quenched that thirst?

But when she had dropped to her knees in front of Mas, Nesta had felt a different hum of power; a magic that had been pushed down and quieted but was wholly good. And as Nesta had forged herself anew, she realised that her magic had presented her with a choice. She could be death if she wished. She could cause destruction and wreak havoc but she could also protect and heal. And whilst Nesta had decided who she was, the knowledge that she had the ability to take away life as she pleased still terrified her. The kerits were different. They were not Fae or human. They did not look like her, did not think like her, did not have conscious thought. Their heads did not tumble right, and whilst life disappeared from the depth of their eyes, it was not akin to the way her father’s eyes had faded, his very being sputtering out until there was only vacant emptiness.

Nesta did not want to take life. Not unless she had to. 

She was not a killer. 

Scar-flecked fingers tilted her chin and urged her to look upwards. Nesta had not heard him move, but she registered his warmth and saw his earnest expression as she stared up into Cassian’s tan face. 

“You are not of bad intention,” Cassian said, as if he somehow could sense her self-deprecating thoughts. His voice had dropped; the tone soft, like a brush stroking tenderly against a canvas. 

“What would happen?” Nesta insisted. She needed to know. Needed to understand as surely as she needed to understand that she would wake tomorrow and he would still be there; her steady presence.  

“Then Sala would disappear into the ether, as it were. An allegiance can be changed, after all. Manticores are highly intelligent creatures.”

Nesta did not know what to say. Yet, whilst she had no words, she knew with a fierce conviction that she would not allow herself to lose Sala. This beast… she was a gift. Sala was the first true blessing that Nesta had been granted in a life that had only been bleak and cruel.

Sala was hers just as she would be the beast’s. A companion in the grey of her life. Another flicker of light in the dark.

“I thought she would give you more freedom around the camps.”

Nesta blinked. Cassian had dropped his hand but remained close to her. His warmth seeped through her clothing, the sensation welcome in the shadows of the barn. Sometimes Nesta felt as if his warmth was directed solely to heat her limbs. 

“I know you must feel limited in where you can go,” Cassian elaborated, stretching his wings slightly. He kept the one closest to her outstretched; a barrier against the cold.

To Nesta’s surprise, Cassian’s cheeks stained a faint pink and he looked away. “I can’t imagine being in Windhaven and not being able to fly,” he confessed. “Sala can carry you about if you want to taste the wind. She can also fight alongside you should you ever need it, both on ground and in the skies.” Another crooked smile as those dark eyes rested back on her, as if he were making himself do it. It nearly knocked the breath from her lungs, the vulnerability in his expression. “She’s not a steed, but perhaps she will become a close second.”

Nesta didn’t know what to do with her body. She felt self-conscious beyond belief, thrown completely by the repeated offering — of freedom. Cassian knew of her growing love of flying. He had truly listened when she confessed that the air rushing around her made her feel alive. That she hungered for it — desperate to gobble up the adrenaline that for the short time, made her feel awake. The rush was akin to an orgasm; the sensation of hot, silky skin sliding against hers as the wave crested and shattered on the shore. Better in some ways. Healthier. More attainable. 

Even though words flashed through her mind, Nesta only asked, “Sala?”

Cassian’s lips turned up at the corners as if he were accessing a memory. “It means fire in Illyrian. A temporary name should you wish to call her something else. Although she is rather attached to it, as you can see.”

Indeed, the manticore’s round honey-coloured ears had pricked forward at the sound of her name. She tilted her head slightly at Cassian, as if she were waiting for him to give her a command.

Nesta bent to scratch behind Sala’s ears. 

“But where will she stay?”

It seemed a stupid question to ask, but the words blurted forth anyway.

Cassian shrugged but the gesture appeared relieved. Had he thought she would turn Sala away? He must have asked Frawley to keep the manticore secret so he could show her the beast himself. “She can come into the bungalow if she likes. Manticores are needy creatures who bond fast to their chosen companion. She’ll like to exercise and hunt, but she’ll always want to come home to you. It is in her instincts to protect and serve.”

Silence fell. Nesta brushed her knuckles across the beast’s muzzle, just as she’d seen Frawley do with Caer. Sala’s purr was loud and she dropped to the ground as if she were in heaven, rolling onto her back and stretching her legs out.

Nesta mouth widened into an unstoppable smile at the sight — of the open display of trust and affection which Nesta found so difficult — and squatted down beside the manticore to ruffle her ears. 

“Do you like her?”

Cassian’s words caught her, reminding her that he was watching her. His eyes were soft and wide when she twisted to look up at him. The faint ghost of a smile was still hovering on her lips. 

“Yes,” she said, in a way that she hoped didn’t come out stiffly. “Very much.” Then she frowned. “What if I’m made to go back to Velaris.”

It was a possibility Nesta couldn’t cast from her mind. Even though Feyre had insisted Nesta could leave Illyria should she want to, Nesta could not help but fear that some event would call her back to their City of Starlight before she chose it herself. That her involvement in court matters would demand her presence. 

Cassian’s expression hardened, showing a hint of the warrior she had been privy to earlier. “I promise you don’t have to go back there if you don’t want to.”

“But what if—"

“I don’t care if it’s demanded of you, Nesta. You never have to go back if you don’t want to.”

The way Cassian spoke was short and dark… and troubled. He truly meant it.

Another creak reverberated in Nesta’s ears as ice tumbled from a glacier. Cassian’s words had reminded her of what she needed to do — what Nesta had known for a while but did not want to admit. It was another path that had been cleared of vines and brambles, but remained laced with thorns. It was not an easy route, but it was what she had chosen. “I do want to go back.”

Everything stilled. The air went taut around them and Cassian’s angry expression shifted into something else entirely.

Nesta watched him open and close his mouth, the movement small but enough to indicate that she had stunned him. Eventually he said, “Ok.” 

Another long, long pause. She watched him swallow, the column of his throat moving up and then down as he looked away. “We can move you back, if that’s what you want.”

Arrows formed between her brows as she frowned. Did he think…?

Stupid bat. 

“I have no intention of moving back there permanently,” she clipped. “I have things I need to take care of. I’ll go back with you. You said you were going for New Year’s Eve.”

Again, Cassian’s lips parted. “You want to visit?” he asked with a disbelieving frown. “I’m going for a few days. I’ll return New Year’s Day.”

Dread twisted inside of her but Nesta did not let it show. Determination won out. She would not stray from her path. Her intention was bigger then her fear to return back to Velaris, to undoubtedly have to face member’s of the Inner Circle in their home — their territory. Where she had been broken and lost and so numb she could not remember the year that had slid by in a roll of bare flesh and the burn of alcohol.

“Yes, for a visit,” she confirmed. Then, she added, “As long as I don’t have to stay in that wretched new house.”

Cassian looked away from her. “Your apartment is still there.”

Worrying her lip between her teeth, Nesta thought of that cold and dirty apartment with its four locks on the door. She had never felt safe there. And it was not a place for her now. A different Nesta had lived there … and Nesta was not that Fae any longer.

“Where will you stay?” she asked.

“I usually stay with Rhys and Feyre or at the House of Wind.”

“Why don’t you have your own place.”

Cassian laugh was rough and throaty and it made the hairs on her arm stand on end. “Why, would you want to stay there?”

Nesta scowled, even as she asked, “How insufferable would you be if I said yes.”

“Very insufferable,” Cassian assured her, his eyes twinkling. 

“No, then,” Nesta replied … and Cassian laughed. The sound was bright and so, so delighted that she couldn’t help the twitch of her lips.

“Shall I send word ahead that you’re coming?”

Nesta shrugged. “If you like.”

A pause.

“Elain will be pleased.”

“Yes,” Nesta said tightly. Already she was starting to backtrack, the thought of heading back to Velaris too much. But then she thought about her purpose and the courage it gave her made her stand that little bit taller. Stiffer… but taller.

“How about this,” Cassian offered, as if he sensed her trepidation. “We won’t send word ahead until the night before. Then you have the night to sleep on it. If you decide you don’t want to go back, nobody is any the wiser and it means you won’t overthink things.” His expression was carefully neutral. “You could even have Sala come to meet you,” he added. “The journey would help to strengthen her wings.”

Armour. He was offering her armour amongst her fire. 

Nesta loosed a slow breath and played with Sala’s soft ears. “Ok.” 

Then she looked up at him, those stormy eyes suddenly clearing to blue as a small smile crept onto her face — she was still in too much disbelief to control it. “She’s really for me?”

Cassian reached a hand downwards. It hesitated in midair, but when she did not move away his thumb brushed the dimple in her cheek with such reverence something inside of her glowed hot.

“She’s all yours,” Cassian assured her, his expression so soft he looked as young as her. “We can bring her inside now if you like. We’ll have to watch Caer, he’s taken a shine to her.”

 Nesta woke the next morning in the small bedroom she had been allocated at the cottage with Sala spread out on the bed beside her. The manticore’s body was deliciously warm and Nesta raised a hand to scratch behind the animal’s ears. 

Already the beast was Nesta’s steadfast companion. 

Sala let out a deep rumbling purr that continued to vibrate as she knocked her head gently against Nesta’s in greeting, and Nesta allowed herself a moment to rest her forehead against Sala’s, holding her close and breathing her in. 

The night of festivities had bled into the early hours, and Nesta had only dragged herself to bed when her eyelids had become so heavy she could barely keep them open. 

Blearily, Nesta dragged herself to join her friends for breakfast before heading back upstairs to get ready to fly to Ironcrest. She was just finishing weaving her hair into a coronet, when a knock sounded at the door.

Cassian was wearing elaborate leathers that she had not seen before. He had scraped half of his hair back into a top knot tied tightly with leather and red cloth. The rest hung to his shoulders in gleaming ebony, as if he had deigned to run a brush through his hair yet again.

Nesta considered making a comment about how he had brushed his hair two days in a row but stopped herself at the last minute. There was a tense set to his shoulders that she had not expected to see given yesterday’s festivities. She doubted it was because he was hungover. Nesta had noticed that he had not gorged himself on wine like he had the year prior, only enjoying a few glasses over the course of the day, as if he knew he needed his wits about him for the luncheon. And, she imagined, so as not to drink excessively around her. Not that she hungered for a drink, any longer. She hadn’t for a long time.

The solidity to Cassian’s frame was the sort that he used to wear when she first arrived in Velaris. It was a stance prepared for barbed words and insults, even as he feigned casual joviality. A stance ready for a fight he did not want to participate in. 

Perhaps he was worried about today… That was a possibility. She had heard him tell Rhys ‘no’ when he asked them to stay the night at Ironcrest. There had been no contemplation, just fierce, adamant refusal…

Nesta had a feeling it had nothing to do with his safety but her own. And even though Nesta had her silver flames and her beginner’s training in combat, she was still the female who craved four locks on a door before she could go to sleep. The bungalow was different, it had a magical protection that Nesta had cause to doubt, but in a camp where the General and their High Lord were out of favour… 

Even as her power moved restlessly beneath her skin, Nesta hoped she and Cassian were sharing a room. She would gladly pretend to be seen as a couple if it meant she would not sleep alone in a strange place. Just the thought of it made her fire want to roar, even as the thought of sleeping beside him made her want to self-combust.

Oblivious to her thoughts, Cassian bent to scratch behind Sala’s ears with a large hand. “Ready to go?”

Nesta’s eyes snagged on the chain dangling from his other hand and her magic gushed through her veins as if it were a flood.

“What’s that?” Nesta asked with a scowl. 

For a moment, Nesta actually thought Cassian was going to turn on his heel and leave. A muscle feathered in his jaw, but in the end, he only stepped so close to her she almost had to take a step back to steady herself.

Sala came to sit by Nesta’s side. The manticore stared up at them with her beautiful, almond eyes that shone gold as Cassian thrust a hand out. “Here.”

Nesta stared at the silver chain that dangled from his fist and the pendant that hung from it. It was so odd to see an impossibly broad warrior holding something so delicate that Nesta wanted to laugh — the first time the sound wanted to desperately bubble out of her  in his presence— but she knew to do so would be a fatal move; a wound that could not be healed. So she swallowed down the sensation and tilted her head to study the necklace instead. 

She hoped that he couldn’t hear how fast her heart was beating in her chest.

When she opened her mouth to speak, Cassian swiftly changed tactic, steering her around so her back was to him. The movement was abrupt and uncontrolled, designed to stop her speaking and laced with something that Nesta thought she detected as panic. 

The firm touch of his hands on her skin made everything hiss, like steam as water hit a hot pan on the stove. And once she had her back to him and the room stopped spinning, everything slowed. Hyper-aware, Nesta felt the movement of air against the arch of her neck; felt the way her body betrayed her and covered her in goosebumps as his calloused fingers brushed her neck. The pleasure at being touched coursed through her and she stiffened, suppressing the shiver that wanted to sweep her away.

She hadn’t been touched intimately in months. Hadn’t been touched tenderly ever and she found she craved for it. 

The comprehension made her both sad and angry: a double-edged sword plunged into the gut.

“What do you think—” she started to snap, but she broke off as a light weight nestled on her sternum, a few inches below her clavicle. 

For a moment, the stone was cool, but then it pulsed against her skin, as if it were a heart and it had been kicked into life for the first time. The pendant was a colour Nesta had never seen before - not quite gold and not quite silver. Understated but undoubtedly beautiful. 

Nesta snapped her gaze up to Cassian as all seven siphons on his ornate armour glowed softly. 

He was staring at her with apprehension… and he looked strangely vulnerable, as if he were ready to take a step back. As if he were about to take a hit. 

Despite that, Nesta couldn’t help to stamp out the intimacy of the moment, even as her mind chanted for more. His head was bowed slightly towards her and she was so consumed by his scent that too much derision flooded her voice, “You’re giving me jewellery? I’m touched.”

“Very good,” Cassian snickered. His wary expression was suddenly replaced with determination, the shadows shifting on his dark, untameable features. 

“I know you don’t usually wear jewellery,” Cassian said with forced lightness, “but I thought you might make an exception. The stone is made of pyrite. Pyrite is revered in Illyria for its protective properties—it’s very rare. It provides a level of protection over the wearer.”

Nesta fingered the beautiful pendant, the stone which was still warm against her skin. It reminded her of safety: of being curled up by a silent fire with a storm raging outside; of a hot meal settling in a stomach carved out hollow from weeks of barely having enough to survive.

She should accept the necklace and get him to leave, Nesta knew that, but her curiosity had been piqued even as something warned her to remain quiet, “When did you have time to hunt down a rare protective charm?”

A muscle feathered in Cassian’s jaw. Suddenly he was not looking at her again but past her, as if something had captivated his attention on the wall. “A while ago.”

And somehow she knew from those three words exactly what this was: the Solstice gift he had tried to give her. 

All the fight bled out of her, because somehow Nesta knew that he had found this for her so she would feel safe. So when she closed the door to her apartment at night with the four locks or walked home well after dark in an inebriated state, that it would offer her protection. That even though she had rejected him and he knew that she was fucking male after male, that no harm would come to her. 

At the time she would have been furious at the gift — at the audacity that he thought he should protect her. But that wasn’t it at all. It was because deep down, despite all her sharp words and his confusing actions, he had cared. And whilst post-war Nesta would have been so blinded by rage and numbing grief that she would have been unable to see the gift for what it was… the Nesta here and now - the female who was slowly emerging out of the dark - felt as if dawn was peeking on the horizon.

A lump formed in her throat. Had Cassian dived into the Sidra to retrieve it? When she had been so cruel to him and he so cruel to her? When she had lashed out because he would not listen. Because he had ignored her and flirted with Mor in front of her face as she felt discarded in the corner.

“It will provide you with an added layer of security during our trip,” Cassian told her. 

Even now, Nesta did not want to discuss what they had been. What they could have been. So she said, “You think I need it today?”

“I think that I don’t trust Illyrian males, especially Illyrian males from Ironcrest. I think that you are stronger and more powerful than any of them, but I would rather die than have something happen to you on the off-chance that they got closer than you’d like or if they teamed up on you.” His words were a low vigorous rumble that shook her bones. 

Then he hesitated. “And Illyrian males give a piece of jewellery to females they are promised to — it’s a symbolic gesture. For the sake of today’s pretence, it would be good if you wore it.”

A long, long silence where Nesta could feel Cassian’s pulse thumping against the skin of his neck. For one true beat, their eyes locked. His eyes were so dark and intense that Nesta couldn’t bare it. 

She was thankful when they shifted slightly to stare right past her rather than tunnel far inside of her.

“It’s beautiful,” she conceded, unable to voice what she wanted to say. There was too much churning around in her mind, so she stared down at the teardrop pendant that glimmered against her pale skin.

“Good,” Cassian said, moving away from her with such abruptness it was almost military with intent. “Put it on and come downstairs.”

Tags: @arin1030 @superspiritfestival @sayosdreams @perseusannabeth @mylittlebigplanet @biggestwingspan-az @bellsqueen @ekaterinakostrova @bookstantrash @prophecyerised @rainbowcheetah512 @awesomelena555 @wannawriteyouabook @iammissstark @lovelynesta @melphss @nestalytical @darkshadowqueensrule @laylaameer01 @a-trifling-matter @grouchycritic7794 @thalia-2-rose @champanheandluxxury @swankii-art-teacher @princessconsuela02 @lavendergoomsltd @little-diyosa @princessofmerchants-reads @jeakat @sjm-things @imwritingthesewords @nestable @inejbrekkxr @silvernesta @inyourmindeye @amelie775 

[zukoscomet]

Growing to Silver

From the Lord Commander of the Nights Watch to the ruler of the Seven Kingdoms, Davos was always there with Jon.

Find it here on AO3.

Davos Seaworth had lived a long, long life. 

He’d said that so many years ago. He didn’t remember the exact number. Davos had seen such change. He’d seen four kings and a queen rule the realm. He’d seen four kings and a queen die. He saw the other claimants fall, too. Robb Stark, the Baratheons, even Daenerys in the end. He watched them all go, until there was only one left. He saw Jon (or Jaehaerys, his head could never decide) fulfill the prophecies.

Davos had always felt for Jon. He who had climbed from the lowest crevasse in society, the brand of bastardy, to rule all the Seven Kingdoms with honor unmatched by any of his predecessors. 

It had made his heart twinge to even think it, when he had his memories of Matthos still fresh in his mind, but Davos had never felt such pride as when Jon ascended those steps. The direwolf had followed in his footsteps, laid at his feet. The dragon had sat beside and watched with ember red eyes, daring anyone to take a step too close to the last Targaryen.

No one did. No one would. From the howling cold of the North to the scorching sands on Dorne, they were all loyal to this boy and his throne. 

A man of twenty three, Davos had had to remind himself repeatedly as he looked over Jon with the crown on his head. Still, always, a brave boy in Davos’s eyes.

“I take it I am no longer needed, Your Grace.” Davos said to his new king that same night, when Jon had excused himself from festivities to his bedchambers.

“And why would you think that, Ser Davos?” Jon had said quietly, gazing out over the balcony.

Kings Landing had never been so alive when the Onion Knight looked out. Even in the wreckage of their city, the people were celebrating. Drinking and dancing and whoring in the streets. Why wouldn’t they? The Long Night was over. The walkers were defeated and gone. Their savior was their king. Tomorrow had never looked so promising to the common folk. It was only for the man that looked upon them from above, with an almost envious glint in his eye, that had to worry about delivering the tomorrow.

“Well, Your Grace-”

“It’s Jon. I want you to call me that, since no one else will anymore.” 

Davos raised an eyebrow, his eyes flickering to the newly forged crown. “Not a fan of Jaehaerys Targaryen?” 

“My mother gave me that name. She had no idea who, or what, I would become,” The younger man blinked and the sudden flash of anger in his eyes was gone, leaving only the gentle firelight. “Jaehaerys … Jaehaerys was her ideal of a son.”

“Don’t you want to be her ideal?”

Jon’s voice was flat, stern, when he spoke. “Jaehaerys was never real. Jon is who I really am.”

In the silence that followed, Davos scrambled frantically for something to say. He always had something to say, but not to Jon, stuck in his eternal sadness. Daenerys had been his last refuge, both as a lover and someone who could try to understand. He had no one like that now. No one that could possibly quantify even a teaspoon of his old soul, empathise with his burden. Luckily for Davos, Jon had filled the pause for him. 

“Where will you go if I release you from my service, Ser Davos?”

“I haven’t seen my wife, Marya, or my younger sons in several years, Your Grace,” Guilt tugged at his stomach familiarly. “I think I’ll sail home to Cape Wrath, see my family and my home there. After that, I’ve yet to decide.” 

Jon nodded slightly. “Good. Then you are free to leave. Take any ship you please.”

“Thank you, Your Grace.” He bowed at the waist.

Davos had barely moved a fraction an inch towards the door before Jon called him back. “I haven’t dismissed you yet, Ser.”

“Once your affairs in the Stormlands are in order, you are to return to the Red Keep with your family and your belongings,” Davos frowned as Jon turned away from the balcony. “For you will be serving me as Hand of the King.”

It took a huge force of will for Davos to bite back the multiple responses and a few seconds more for him to organise a coherent response in his head. 

“Forgive me, Your Grace, but my service to you was to offer council in difficult times,” he said steadily. “You’ve now no shortage of honorable men to advise you. You’re surrounded by some of the best surviving minds in all of Westeros. Tyrion Lannister himself, to name one. I am a crabber’s son, an ex-smuggler, a man who served a claimant to your throne. What could I possibly have to offer you as a Hand?”

Jon had just smiled at him. The first genuine one he’d seen in a while. 

For all the years that Davos had lived, he should have known better than to think that his role as Hand of the King would be the start and end of his place in the reign of Jaehaerys III Targaryen. Marya became a lady of the court, his sons all had turns as the king’s pages or squires. House Seaworth was favoured by Jon. Everyone thought it but no one said it. The court could overlook on the king’s behalf, since he had saved their lives.

There was little to overlook with Jon. He ruled well. He took the words of his advisers as he should but used his own heart, too. He could be generous and merciful, but also principled. He was loved. The peace was kept.

And then, when the first child, a prince, was born, Davos was appointed to the role of chaperone. 

In many ways, this task was a much heavier responsibility. The Hand’s office wasn’t at all personal. It was just a job. To care for the prince, the heir to the throne, was something else. Eddard Targaryen was a precious gift to the people, real proof that the dynasty was stable once again. Perhaps more important to Davos, Eddard was absolutely the most important thing in Jon’s life. Davos rarely saw love in Jon’s eyes to equal when he looked upon the son that he thought he would never have the chance to sire. 

“He gets bigger by the day, that one.” Davos remarked one day.

The throne room was emptied of the court. Jon was still in his seat on the Iron Throne with Davos at his right. A familiar sight, but for the baby prince perched on his father’s lap. And Eddard was growing stronger. The red-faced, squalling bundle that Jon had temporarily relinquished to him on that fateful night was gone. 

In his place was a boy that looked so strangely like his father. 

Dark hair against winter skin, with deep brown eyes to match. The differences were slight. There was not a single curl to be found on his raven head. Eddard was not so somber. His smiles were easily given to any and all. 

“It’s terrifying. My days are numbered.”

Davos took a breath in. “If you don’t mind, Your Grace, I’ve got a gift for him.” 

Two sets of black eyes followed as he reached into the inside of his cloak. 

“I didn’t know whether to make a dragon or a direwolf so I tried both,” Davos extended the carving out to Eddard almost shyly. “The wolf turned out much better.”

The prince took the wolf from his chaperone’s hands into his own. His tiny hands were gentle, brushing over the smooth wood. He had the same look of wonderment on his face that he did when he saw the real thing, Jon’s own direwolf. Eddard was perhaps the only person that Ghost would tolerate such excessive petting from. He was the same with Drogon, too. He’d never been afraid of either beast. 

“All the toys that were bought for him,” Jon grinned as Eddard hugged the wolf to his chest. “And that’s the only thing he’s shown the slightest bit of interest in.”

With each new child of Jon’s that arrived, the carvings seemed to grow a little better. Davos carved six wolves. The first creation for Eddard. The second for the little Princess Rhaenys, made with ebony fur and painted lilac eyes. To match her twin Aegon, another wolf with purple eyes but this time carved from the wood the ash tree. The third son, Jaehaerys, another white wolf but with stern iron eyes. For the youngest brothers, Robb and Rickon, were carved from mahogany and walnut.

The people invented a quatrain for the children. Jon detested it. It was never recited within reach of his ears, but it was whispered behind closed doors.

Eddard for the man who was never free.

Jaehaerys for the man he was meant to be.

Robb and Rickon for the brothers lost.

Rhaenys and Aegon for the siblings cost.

As if the gods believed Jon had suffered enough, he never had to face losing a child. In fact, each of his offspring grew well. Eddard the heir. Rhaenys and Robb the warriors. Aegon and Rickon the scholars. Jaehaerys the politician. 

To his disbelief, Davos lived every year to see them rise. He chaperoned all five brothers since they were babes in arms to young men at arms. Marya was put in charge of the princess but Davos doted over her just the same. Jon’s little girl, lovely Rhaenys who fought as fiercely as any one of her brothers. Better than her brothers in truth. Jon said he would not fail her as Lyanna, and Arya even, had been. Jon did not play favorites, but his softest spot was reserved for his daughter.

Eddard, Rhaenys, Aegon, Jaehaerys, Robb and Rickon. The perfect six, as there had once been six children in Winterfell. The perfect family to hold up their father’s world when he was gone. 

Joined by another, an unexpected seventh. Just days after Eddard’s eighteenth name day. 

He had a seventh child, a second daughter. The sister that Rhaenys had accepted long ago that she wouldn’t have. No, Jon did not lose a child. This time, though, he lost his queen. 

“I’m so sorry, Your Grace.” Davos took one hand off of his cane to rest on the king’s shoulder.

Jon shook his head sharply. He didn’t want to talk about it yet. Instead he looked down at the bundle in his arms as he tipped the rocking chair back and forth lightly. This one was more fragile than the others, Davos could see. Even the twins, born weeks before their proper time, had been bigger. Elfin fingers reached out and clenched around the smallest one that Jon had to offer. So tiny, this one. Perfectly healthy though, the maesters said. She would grow into a fine young lady with the right care.

“I never expected to be a father again. I’ve honored everyone I wanted to,” Jon spoke suddenly. His voice was hoarse as his throat was raw. “You name this one for me, Ser Davos.”

Jon had been shocking Davos every moment since he’d met him. This decision still took him by surprise. The right to name his daughter surrendered. 

“Let’s see her then.”

Davos cleared his throat, stepped closer to the chair as Jon shifted back to reveal the child in his arms. She seemed more a doll than a living thing, were it not for her eyes. They were so alive. Wide, deep and innocent, brown like rich chocolate. Davos knew the eyes he were looking into were a result of Jon’s strong northern line, but he couldn’t help but think of another princess he’d known with the same look.

“I think you know the name I’m going to suggest, Your Grace.”

Jon was so tired. It was in every line in his face, the silver streaks that stood out in his dark mane. “Shireen Targaryen.”

Speaking as a ruler, this would be taken in bad taste. Jon didn’t believe it but a Targaryen king naming his daughter, a trueborn princess, after the member of a house that had usurped his family was odd in this game.

Just this once, for Davos’s sake, Jon could allow himself to not care about the consequence.

This Shireen did live. She did grow into a young lady. This time, Shireen was loved. Nothing was worth as much to Jon as Shireen and her elder siblings. She wasn’t a fighter like her sister. She was more mild, sweet and gentle like her namesake had been. 

Davos counted himself lucky to live as long as he did. Most had not. Eddard was a man grown by the time Davos started to ail. The heir was twenty two, his household set up at Dragonstone with his new wife. Rhaenys lived on the Iron Islands as their princess through Queen Yara’s only son. Her twin had gone to the Citadel to train as a maester. Jaehaerys and Robb had gone, too, serving as wards at Casterly Rock and the Eyrie respectively. They had all come back to the Keep when their father sent them the news.

They had all been at his side. Marya, his sons and grandchildren, Jon and his children. It was a true gift to have them there with him. For all he’d endured, he had done well to reach his eightieth year. 

Now Jon’s hair was turning silver and what little Davos had left was white.

“We’ve been through a lot together, hey boy?”

Jon snorted as Davos called him boy, as usual. He was fifty seven now. “I reckon so. You’ll have quite the stories to tell Stannis.”

Davos studied him with sad eyes for a moment. “You remember what you said to Daenerys about that new world? You did it in the end. You made it.”

“She could of, too.”

“Maybe, but I knew it was going to be you, Jon. I took the step and never looked back. I always believed. Right from the start.”

A small grin appeared on Jon’s face. “When I rose from the dead?”

“Aye. That was a damn good indicator that you were something special.”

The pair laughed together for a moment. Davos was growing weaker with each second with each second that ticked by. Jon had seen enough men die to know that he didn’t have much longer with his Hand, his friend.

“I don’t know how I’m going to manage without you, Davos.” he told him plainly, gripping his hand. 

“The same way you have been these past few years. I’ve been a luxury, not a neccessity,” Davos said dismissively. He had to be. Jon still had years of reigning left to do. He couldn’t collapse now. “Who’s going to be your new Hand?”

Jon swallowed as the thought pained him. “Lord Tyrion.”

“A good choice. He’s been working for it since you sat your ass on the throne over twenty years ago. He’ll serve you just fine.”

There was a silence between them. Jon was ashamed that he was wasting these precious minutes. He had so much to express, not enough words and even less time to do so. For years, he had wondered what he’d say to Ned if he could have the chance to give his goodbye again, what he’d say to Rhaegar if he’d ever got the chance to meet him.

“Thank you for being there when my father couldn’t be,” Jon wasn’t sure if he meant Ned or Rhaegar. It didn’t matter. “Thank you for guiding me, helping me, and believing in me even when hardly anyone else did. Thank you for doing the same for my children, loving them as though they were your own.”

Davos just sighed, tightening his grip on Jon’s hand. “I loved you like my own. And you made me proud. That’s all I could ever have asked. I should be thanking you.”

“I’m going to miss you.”

“And I you, boy.”

Jon was frugal with his tears. He’d already given away so many. For Ned, Robb, Ygritte, Rickon, Daenerys. When Bran had admitted the truth to him about his mother, he’d gone and sobbed at the feet at her tomb. Then he’d ridden for the unmarked burials of his real siblings, killed as a result of the union that created him and mourned them for every year he’d missed. Lastly, he’d gone beneath Dragonstone and raged at Rhaegar Targaryen’s hidden grave. For siring him, for marrying his mother, for putting this horrendous burden on him for every single day of his life. 

He cried for Davos. Not at the funeral, in front of hundreds of nobles and commonfolk who’d come to pay their respects to the Hand. There, he’d comforted his children. 

Only days later, when his five eldest had flown again, when Rickon and Shireen had finally given in to sleep, did he shed tears. 

Jon was alone and the lone wolf dies, so the family he’d been raised with said. But was Jon a wolf or was he a dragon? He’d known the truth since he was a much younger man, but he was still no closer to finding the answer.

The man that sat on the Iron Throne was Jaehaerys. Jaehaerys was a dragon.

The man who shut his eyes and dreamed of Winterfell was Jon. Jon was a wolf.

There was only one thing to be done. Make peace with both and live with both, Davos said. Teach his offspring to do the same.

It was the family that really mattered. 

[nhlabornews]

Today in labor history for the week of November 20, 2017

This Week in Labor History November 20 First use of term “scab,” by Albany Typographical Society – 1816

Norman Thomas born, American socialist leader – 1884

The time clock is invented by Willard Bundy, a jeweler in Auburn, N.Y. Bundy’s brother Harlow starts mass producing them a year later – 1888

Mine fire in Telluride, Colo., kills 28 miners, prompts union call for safer work conditions – 1901

A total of 78 miners are killed in an explosion at the Consolidated Coal Company’s No. 9 mine in Farmington, W. Va. – 1968

The Great Recession hits high gear when the stock market falls to its lowest level since 1997. Adding to the mess: a burst housing bubble and total incompetence and greed—some of it criminal—on the part of the nation’s largest banks and Wall Street investment firms. Officially, the recession lasted from December 2007 to June 2009 – 2008

November 21 Six miners striking for better working conditions under the IWW banner are killed and many wounded in the Columbine Massacre at Lafayette, Colo. Out of this struggle Colorado coal miners gained lasting union contracts – 1927

The 1,700-mile Alaska Highway (Alcan Highway) is completed, built during World War II on the order of President Roosevelt.  Some 11,000 troops, about one-third of them African-Americans, worked on the project, which claimed the lives of an estimated 30 men. Memorials for the veterans are scattered in spots throughout the highway, including the Black Veterans Memorial Bridge, dedicated in 1993.  It wasn’t until 1948 that the military was desegregated – 1942

The United Auto Workers Union strikes 92 General Motors plants in 50 cities to back up worker demands for a 30-percent raise. An estimated 200,000 workers are out – 1945

Staten Island and Brooklyn are linked by the new Verrazano Narrows Bridge, the longest suspension bridge in the world at the time and still the longest in the U.S.  Joseph Farrell, an apprentice Ironworker on the project, told radio station WNYC: “The way the wind blows over this water it would blow you right off the iron. That was to me and still is the most treacherous part of this business. When the wind grabs you on the open iron, it can be very dangerous.” Three workers died over the course of the 5-year project – 1964

(Survival of the Fittest is a must-read for anyone in the building trades, especially younger workers. In clear, easy-to-read language it explains how to be successful in the trades and, directly linked to that success, how to make union construction thrive and prosper.)

The promise of telecommuting arrives when the Advanced Research Projects Agency Network—ARPANET, the beginnings of the global internet—is established when a permanent link is created between the University of California at Los Angeles and the Stanford Research Institute in Menlo Park, Calif. – 1969

A fire at the MGM Grand Hotel and Casino in Las Vegas kills 85 hotel employees and guests and sends 650 injured persons, including 14 firefighters, to the hospital. Most of the deaths and injuries were caused by smoke inhalation – 1980

Flight attendants celebrate the signing into law a smoking ban on all U.S. domestic flights – 1989

Congress approves the North American Free Trade Agreement (NAFTA), to take effect Jan. 1 of the following year – 1993

The Genetic Information Nondiscrimination Act takes effect in the nation’s workplaces. It prohibits employers from requesting genetic testing or considering someone’s genetic background in hiring, firing or promotions – 2009

November 22 “The Uprising of the 20,000.” Some 20,000 female garment workers are on strike in New York; Judge tells arrested pickets: “You are on strike against God.” The walkout, believed to be the first major successful strike by female workers in American history, ended the following February with union contracts bringing better pay and working conditions – 1909

The district president of the American Federation of Labor and two other Caucasians are shot and killed in Bogalusa, La., as they attempt to assist an African-American organizer working to unionize African-American workers at the Great Southern Lumber Co. – 1919

President John F. Kennedy is assassinated. Generally considered a friend of labor, Kennedy a year earlier had issued Executive Order 10988, which authorized unionization and a limited form of collective bargaining rights for most federal workers (excluding the Department of Defense). Many states followed the example set by Kennedy – 1963

November 23 History’s first recorded (on papyrus) strike, by Egyptians working on public works projects for King Ramses III in the Valley of the Kings. They were protesting having gone 20 days without pay—portions of grain—and put down their tools. Exact date estimated, described as within “the sixth month of the 29th year” of Ramses’ reign—1170BC—in The Spirit of Ancient Egypt, by Ana Ruiz. Scholar John Romer adds inAncient Lives: The Story of the Pharaoh’s Tombmakers that the strike so terrified the authorities they gave in and raised wages. Romer believes it happened a few years later, on Nov. 14, 1152 B.C.

Troops are dispatched to Cripple Creek, Colo., to control protests by striking coal miners – 1903

Mine Workers President John L. Lewis walks away from the American Federation of Labor to lead the newly-formed Committee for Industrial Organization. The CIO and the unions created under its banner organized six million industrial workers over the following decade – 1935

The first meeting between members of the newly-formed National Football League Players Association and team owners takes place in New York. Union founders included Frank Gifford, Norm Van Brocklin, Don Shula and Kyle Rote. They were asking for a minimum $5,000 salary, a requirement that their teams pay for their equipment, and a provision for the continued payment of salary to injured players. The players’ initial demands were ignored – 1956

November 24 Led by Samuel Gompers, who would later found the American Federation of Labor, Cigarmakers’ Int’l Union Local 144 is chartered in New York City – 1875

November 25 Some 10,000 New Orleans workers, Black and White, participate in a solidarity parade of unions comprising the Central Trades and Labor Assembly. The parade was so successful it was repeated the following two years – 1883

Teachers strike in St. Paul, Minn., the first organized walkout by teachers in the country. The month-long “strike for better schools” involving some 1,100 teachers—and principals—led to a number of reforms in the way schools were administered and operated – 1946

(No Contract, No Peace: A Legal Guide to Contract Campaigns, Strikes, and Lockouts is a must-have for any union or activist considering aggressive action to combat management’s growing economic war against workers. The book references recent union activities and NLRB decisions that have affected the labor relations environment and the author’s familiarity with labor and employment law combines with his activist spirit to provide innovative yet practical tips for mounting and maintaining meaningful campaigns designed to build union and workers’ power.)

Nearly 1,550 typesetters begin what is to become a victorious 22-month strike against Chicago newspapers – 1947

George Meany becomes president of the American Federation of Labor following the death four days earlier of William Green – 1952

Canadian postal workers, protesting a Post Office decision to offer discounts to businesses but not individuals, announce that for one week they will unilaterally reduce postage costs by about two-thirds.  Declared the Canadian Union of Postal Workers: “(M)embers of the general public, not businesses, can mail letters with 10 cents postage and postal workers will process them without taxing them for insufficient postage” – 1983

November 26 Six young women burn to death and 19 more die when they leap from the fourth-story windows of a blazing factory in Newark, N.J. The floors and stairs were wooden; the only door through which the women could flee was locked – 1910

—Compiled and edited by David Prosten

Today in labor history for the week of November 20, 2017 was originally published on NH LABOR NEWS

[viralhottopics]

16 Awesome New Things We Learned In 2016

Yes, 2016 was a terrible year for many reasons. Even in its last moments, it seems to want to cause us a heck of a lot of grief.

Still, its worth pointing out that a lot of good things happened this year too. Science, in particular, has decrypted the universe rather splendidly, and we are wiser and smarter than we were back in 2015.

So, to send off 2016, here are 16 of the coolest new things we now know about the universe thanks to science.

1 There is a massive metal dragon inside Earths core

This enigmatic, serpent-shaped, liquid iron beast is traveling around Earths molten outer core. Currently under Alaska, it encircles about half of the entire planets circumference, and its the fastest moving thing beneath our feet.

Its also messing with Earths magnetic field, and it appears to be accelerating.

Theres actually a lot we dont know about this metallic jet stream, but this daisy-chain of doom is ludicrously fascinating, and perhaps a little frightening.

2 We know the secret to Plutos heart

New Horizons zipped by the dwarf planet Pluto back in 2015, and some of the most remarkable images it sent back were of a basin that strongly resembled a cartoon heart. Ever since, scientists have been trying to work out what may have formed this spectacular feature, and there are plenty of theories flying around.

The most compelling, however, appears to be that the smooth basin is a radioactive sea of nitrogen icebergs. And if you have liquid features at the surface of a mainly solid ice world, then you must still have a source of heat.

Pluto is too small to have retained any of its primordial (formation) heat, so the sea must be sustained by the decay of radioactive elements from within. And, at just 1 million years of age, Plutos cardiovascular-like sea is one of the youngest features in the Solar System.

3 An entire continent was destroyed by the Himalayas

Mount Everest. Nikita Serdechyy/Shutterstock

The collision of India with Eurasia about 40 to 60 million years ago actually forced down an entire continents worth of rock into the fiery, partly molten mantle. Seeing as the buoyancy of continents means that they normally float on the mantle below, this is quite an impressive feat.

4 Greenland sharks can live for up to 400 years

By carefully analyzing the development of the lenses in the eyes of sharks, scientists discovered that a female Greenland shark might have been born as far back as the reign of James I.

This would make her the oldest living vertebrate animal, and its likely shes not alone in her old age plenty of other Greenland sharks are likely to be just as elderly. For comparison, the longest living human was 122 years old.

The Greenland shark is, however, not the oldest living life form on the planet. A deep-sea clam named Ming named after the Chinese dynasty during which it was born died in 2006 at the ripe old age of 507, for example.

5 A second Earth may exist in the star system nearest our own

An artist’s impression of Proxima b. ESO/M. Kornmesser

Back in August, astronomers announced that a terrestrial planet, one that has similar base temperatures to our own world, was detected orbiting the star nearest our own. Named Proxima b, it is more likely than most exoplanets to contain liquid water and perhaps even an atmosphere.

This means that a second home could be waiting for us in our very own cosmic backyard. At just over 4 light-years away, its as close as any extrasolar planet is going to get to Earth and maybe, just maybe, theres already alien life on its surface or beneath its waves.

6 Dinosaurs may have been cooing to each other

A curious analysis of the vocal chords of various living dinosaurs the birds suggested that their ability to coo, or make noises without opening their mouths, might have evolved millions of years earlier than previously thought. In fact, this ability evolved at least 16 times independently in the group that contained birds, crocodiles, and long-dead dinosaurs.

This means that the ferocious T. rex or perhaps a terrifying megaraptor may have been able to coo at each other, as well as roar.

7 The Great Pyramid of Giza has an ancient defense mechanism

Its not quite up to Indiana Jones standard, but the most famous ancient structure in the world had a secret defense against tomb raiders. Apart from decoy burial chambers to trick sneaky thieves, the Great Pyramid also contained a series of grooves that were thought to hold giant granite blocks.

These chunks of solid rock could be slid into place by defenders of the tomb, either stopping robbers accessing the gravesites or trapping them inside forever.

8 Volcanoes will one day be born in New England

For some time, geophysicists have known that there is an anomalous heat signature beneath the northeastern US. It was thought to be the embers of a inactive volcanic hotspot, but a new study has revealed that at least part of it is a separate rising plume of superheated material one thats indubitably alive and kicking.

This young fiery fountain means that its highly likely that, in a few million years or so, there will be a range of baby volcanoes born in New England.

9 There may be a ninth planet at the edge of our Solar System

The demotion of Pluto from planet to dwarf planet back in 2006 ruined the childhoods of millions. However, at the start of this year, the very same research team responsible for the grim change announced what amounted to a celestial plot twist.

As it turns out, theres fairly strong indirect evidence that a Neptune-sized planet may exist at the far end of our Solar System. If spotted and confirmed, this would mean that, once again, we have nine planets orbiting the Sun.

10 The Moon might be triggering earthquakes

You betrayed us! Triff/Shutterstock

It makes sense when you think about it: the Moons gravitational pull is causing earthquakes. Most research is pointing towards them triggering only very little tremors those barely detectable by humans but some studies suggest that some of the largest earthquakes of the 21st century may have been kickstarted by the dance of our lunar companion.

11 Antarctica is hiding thousands of meteorites beneath its ice

Not only is the worlds largest canyon concealed beneath the white surface of the Southern Continent, but it appears that a treasure trove of iron meteorites are also stuck just below the ice.

A recent modeling study revealed that these metallic visitors to Earth, having been heated up by sunlight, may have slipped into the ice before being reburied, hiding them from view for millennia.

12 Were pretty sure we know why women have orgasms

The male orgasm has a clear reproductive function, but the female equivalent has been the source of some mystery for a considerable length of time. After all, its not needed for fertilization to occur in humans, no matter how awesome it may feel.

However, a new study suggested that the female orgasm used to trigger the start of ovulation, as it does in many comparable mammals today. Over time, this function became unnecessary, and the female orgasm stuck around for pair-bonding reasons instead.

13 Chinas founding myth was true all along

Legends say that the very first unbroken line of Chinese monarchs, the Xia, coincided with a great flood that destroyed much of civilization at the time. Remarkably, archaeological and geological evidence suggests that this legend was in fact true, right down to the date it was said to have happened.

14 King Tuts dagger is literally out of this world

The iron meteorite used to form a regal blade. TheLearningPhotographer/Shutterstock

King Tutankhamen was buried with an ornate dagger with an unusual chemical composition. It turns out that this decorative blade was forged from a meteorite that crashed down to Earth thousands of years ago. Not only that, but the iron space rock itself was identified as the Kharga meteorite, one found back in the year 2000 near Alexandria in Egypt.

15 Ios atmosphere collapses at night

The innermost Galilean moon of Jupiter is a glorious volcanic hellscape, one thats shrouded by a sulfurous atmosphere. Not only is this blanket of gas fueled by the eruptions of the very same volcanoes that dot its surface, but a new study found that the atmosphere collapses every single time the moon enters Jupiters shadow.

16 Cats understand the laws of physics

We all know that cats are vengeance-driven, death-dealing, furious, furry felines, but it appears that they may be smarter than weve given then credit for. A rather bizarre study involving noisy boxes and suspicious stares concluded that our peculiar pets must have a basic graspof the laws of physics to go about their daily lives.

We were a little skeptical of this studys methodology, but it did grant us an opportunity to use ridiculous images of cats in science laboratories.

Read more: http://bit.ly/2hLCF58

from 16 Awesome New Things We Learned In 2016