#then that horse neighs and all the other horses get in order

[devil-in-hiding]

On The Run Part 1

The Barn

mdni

cw: violent behavior, suggestive themes, i will get better at this i swear

It’s a downpour tonight. The roof overhead rattles with the force of the winds outside, keeping you awake. Your eyes drift towards the window periodically, watching the lightening illuminate the night sky, thunder rolling closer and closer as the wind hails. Your four loyal, massive Tibetan Mastiffs lay around your bed, dead to the storm raging outside. You’d normally have them out in the barn, but with how terrible it’s coming down you would have felt terrible.

But now you lie awake, worry in the pit of your stomach. Some of the goats had just given birth, and with this storm you knew the kids had to be distressed, and their bleats often agitated the horses.

You absentmindedly reach down to run a hand through Dixon’s fur, who lets out a pleased huff, nuzzling your palm. You try to let the beat of rain lure you to sleep, eyes finally feeling heavy as your breathing evens out.

But then you hear it, over the raging of the storm you can still hear your stallion, Sebastian, neighing, and then the pound of his hoofs against his stalls, and you're flying out of your bed.

Nothing spooks your stallion, absolutely nothing.

You race down the stairs in just your nightgown, rushing to pull on your boots, no socks, as Dixon, Grimes, Judy and Maggie come bounding after you. You throw open the door, the screen slamming against the house from the wind but you pay no mind, running towards the barn, barely catching yourself from slipping in the mud.

The closer you get, the louder you can hear all your herd. Your hearts pounding harder than the rain when you reach the barn doors, and you can hear the dogs barking behind you as you reach to yank open the double doors

Locked.

Your barn is never locked.

From the inside.

“Hello?!” You yell, slamming your palms against the wood, guilt wracking your body when you hear something scurry away on the other side.

“What are you doing in there?” You scream, shaking the handles with all your might, but they hold strong, and after a harsh yank, your hand slips, sending you flying into the mud.

You can hear what can only be described as chaos in the barn, and tears prick your eyes as you crawl forward, banging your fists against the doors.

“PLEASE! Please don’t hurt my animals! They’re already scared! Please- AH!” You scream as the door flies open, sending you face first into the barn floor.

You barely register the blood dripping from your hands as you scramble to stand up, taking in the scene.

The mares were going wild, bucking and kicking the doors of their stalls while Sebastian raged, having busted his door down, prancing infront of his ladies protectively.

Your goats were huddled in a group on the corner, the kids tucked between their bodies and the sheep standing in front of them, shaking so badly their wool was trembling. The rest of the stock is scattered, hiding in various corners of the barn.

You whistle, which immediately catches Sebastian’s attention, huffing and puffing.

“I’m here! It’s okay, ma is here!” You hush them, slowly walking towards the stallion with your hand out, palm up.

He neighs, tossing his head, leaning down to sniff your hand, when he stops, and suddenly a new sound reaches your ears.

Dixon and Grimes are growling out a warning.

Before you can even blink, there’s a hand over your mouth. Your gasp is muffled at the pressure of cold steel at your neck, an arm wrapping around your chest pulling you into a firm, solid figure.

“Not. A. Sound.” A gruff voice barks in your ear, and your blood runs cold.

“Lock the doors back.” The man orders, and a sinking feeling overcomes you when you hear a new set of footsteps. You stumble as you’re jerked back, Dixon barking as you start to thrash, kicking your feet, but the grip around you tightens.

“Fuckin- Knock it off!” He growls, pressing what you can only guess is your carving knife painfully against your throat and Grimes lets out a guttural sounding bark before lunging, only to yelp when a foot shoves him back, and you thrash harder, attempting to nip at this man’s hand.

“Stop you little fuckin-SHIT!” He bellows as your teeth sink into his palm, not releasing until you taste his blood splash over your teeth, and then you’re on the ground.

“Little bitch!”

“Don’t touch my fucking animals.” You spit, turning to stare up at the intruder, just to be met with a ski mask and cold eyes. You can’t help but freeze, the carving knife glinting in the low light of the barn.

He’s quick, and you try to stumble to your feet, but you're once more in his grasp. You go for a punch, but he catches your wrist easily, pinning your arm behind your back with one hand and yanking your forward with the other, pinning you against him, and the knife is at your throat again.

“Let’s try this again.” He says between clenched teeth, tightening his grip till you whimper.

“Ghost. Lighten up.” A voice pipes up, raspy and stern with a commanding tone. The masked man, Ghost, rolls his eyes, but loosens the hold he has on your wrist.

“Who else lives here?” He questions, and it feels as though a bucket of cold water has been dumped over you.

“No one…” You whisper, squeezing your eyes shut when his grip tightens once more. “Don’t bullshit us. Who else lives on this land with you?!” He’s in your face, making you open your eyes, tears blurring your vision.

“It’s just me I swear!” You sob, feeling the tip of the knife digging into your skin. “I swear to god it’s just me, you can go check the house-“

The pressure of the knife is gone, and the shock of your bare knees hitting the barn floors barely phases you as Dixon and Grimes dart to your side, whining softly as they nudge your hands with their heads.

“Think she’s telling the truth?” A new voice speaks up, a thick Scottish accent ringing in your ears as you try to put distance between you and the four, you are finally able to count, men standing in the middle of your barn.

“Explains the massive mutts.” Ghost grunts, glancing at the four mastiffs, who you push behind you, shielding them, trying not to let your fear show more than it already has.

“They aren’t mutts.” You hiss, Judy nuzzling her giant head into your back as you shuffle them back, away from these men.

You hold your head high, but your lip can’t help but tremble when all their eyes turn to you.

“You sure there’s no one else in that great big house?” The older man with scruffy facial hair asks with a tilt of his head, and a spark of agitation flares in your chest. Why did they want to know so badly? if they were going to…

If they were going to kill you, surely they would have done it by now, right?

“I swear on my life.” You plead, voice cracking. You’re horrified when you realize your nightgown has been soaked through this whole time, noticing the way the one with the mohawk, the Scot, keeps eyeing your bosom. You look away, cheeks burning as fresh tears prick your eyes.

“Soap, Gaz. You two go check the house. Report back to me, I want a moment with her.” The unnamed man ordered.

Mohawk and a dark skinned man nodded, heading out of the barn. Ghost passes one of them the carving knife, and your fist curl in your lap.

“What do I do Price?” Ghost asks, and the man, Price, waves a hand, eyes trained on you. “Search the surrounding area, look for anyone hiding on the property.”

“Understood.”

And then you were alone. The barn has settled, most of your animals having made their way to the farthest wall behind you. He approaches you slowly, cautiously eyeing Dixon who raises up, baring his teeth, but you click your tongue, and he steps back immediately, sitting at your side like a statue as the others guard the flock.

You feel a puff of air breath against your head, and you can’t help the wet laugh that bubbles out when you realize Sebastian is standing guard over you.

“Seems you’ve got yourself quite the protection.”

He muses, eyes bouncing between the animals.

“They were abandoned when I found this place.” You confess, a slight tremble to your voice as you watch Price crouch in front of you. He’s quiet for a moment, eyes flickering over your form and you wrap your arms around your middle.

“If my men are walking into a trap, whoever is there will be killed.” He says simply, tone almost bored and you feel your face pale.

“They’re not! This is my land! Mine!” You insist, frustrated tears falling freely as you flex your fingers, muscles tense.

“Tiny little bird like you, all by herself?” Ghost scoffs as he returns, and you feel your ears burn.

“What did you find?” Price asks him over his shoulders.

“Can hardly see shit in this rain but I found no one. There’s a truck around back but the engine seems shot.” He shrugs, eyes peering at you through that ski mask and you avert your gaze.

The doors open against, the other two rushing in, soaked to the bone.

“The house is clear sir. Only one room looks lived in, two guest rooms down the hall on the upper level and a small library on the ground level. Gaz found a shotgun by the front door.” The Scot, Soap, you gather, reports back to Price.

“I told you. It’s just me out here.” You mutter, and this time Ghost is crouching in front of you, grabbing your chin and forcing you to look at him.

“You hiding from something little bird?” He asks, cocking his head to the side

“You’re the ones breaking into my barn and scaring my animals!” You snap, trying to get out of his grip, but he only holds tighter.

“You’re a little fighter aren’t you?” You see his eyes crinkle, and you're shocked this man even knows how to smile under that mask.

He releases you, standing up and stepping back to stand with the other three men, who still loom over you. You feel like a lamb being sent to the slaughter house, and you bury one of your hands in Dixon’s thick fur to ground yourself.

“Please-“ You start, voice shaking, and you feel a tear slip down your cheek.

“I don’t have much, there’s maybe three thousand dollars in the safe in my closet. I’ll give you the code just…” Your voice trails off, a sob slipping past your lips and Dixon whines, low and sad as he places his giant head in your lap.

“Please don’t hurt us. D-don’t hurt my animals- I won’t even call the cops, it would take the nearest deputy three hours to even reach my house.” You beg, exhaustion and nerves taking over as your shoulders slump, trembling with your quiet sobs.

You see Price’s boots approach you, and he tilts your chin up, and you flinch when he brushes a tear away with his thumb.

“Stop all these tears pretty. We don’t want to hurt you or your little farm.” He coos down at you. Confusion swirls in your head, making you dizzy as another sob can’t help but slip out, Price cupping your cheeks, shushing you softly as he wipes your cheeks.

“I don’t understand…” You whisper, searching this strange, terrifying man’s face for any sign of deceit, but he just grins at you.

“You told us the truth. Very good.” It sounds almost like praise the way he whispers it to you, and you whimper, shame filling your stomach. You look away from him, taking a shuddering breath as you struggle to compose yourself.

“Let’s get you back inside hm? Can’t have you catching a cold.” He tsks, and before you can argue, you’re being lifted into his arms, tucked against his chest. You try to struggle, but the adrenaline has worn off, confusion left in its wake as these strange men usher the herd into their correct pens, Soap barley escaping one of the Roosters pecking at him in defiance, before pausing.

“I don’t think I want to mess with this guy.” Gaz mutters, the three of them staring at Sebastian, who stares back, as though daring them to try and corral him.

“He.. He’ll go back in his stall once it’s quiet… You scared them…” You mutter, tired as you give in, resting your head against the strong chest you’re pressed against, and you feel Price’s grip tighten.

“You’re freezing sweetheart, let’s get you out of these wet clothes.” He murmers, and your heart skips.

“I can do that myself.” You hiss, staring up at him with narrowed eyes, despite the fact you can feel your cheeks burning.

He just laughs.

[musings-of-a-rose]

A New Life - Part 3 (Finale)

Pairing: General Marcus Acacius x ofc Cornelia

Word Count: 8700+

Rating: Mature - 18+ ONLY!

Warnings: Just like ao3, “creator chooses not to use warnings.” If you click Keep Reading, that means you agree that you’re the age to handle mature themes. Also by clicking Keep Reading, you understand warnings may not be complete in order to avoid spoilers for the story. 

Summary: After her husband's quick death, Cornelia finds herself back in her childhood home. But when her father passes, her cruel brother Cato becomes Lord of the city. She feels trapped, hopeless, destined for nothing as her brother tortures her day in and out. Until one day, a certain renowned General comes to claim her city in the name of Rome. When her brother hastily offers her up in surrender to the stoic General, Cornelia happily complies. Anything to get away from her brother. But will the General accept her? What fate lies in store for her in the hands of General who has never lost a battle? And will she be able to survive Rome itself?

Notes: I asked and you voted! One final part instead of 2! Shoutout to @mermaidxatxheart for tolerating my existence in general for this fic.

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**Reader is not described

Main Masterlist

General Marcus Acacius Masterlist

A New Life Masterlist

The horses neigh and stomp at the ground, anxious to enter the city and start their path through its streets to the capital building where the Emperors were waiting for us.

Not us. Him.

The tent opens and Marcus strides out of it, his presence commanding. He’s dressed in a white and gold armor, a ridiculous color for actual battle but damn if it doesn’t leave me breathless. His hair sits in perfect salt and pepper curls, a new scar on his face a red line across his cheek, enhancing his attractiveness. Now I understand why Lucilla dressed me in a white and gold tunic - to match him. To show a team. To show my support of him. 

Marcus is lost in thought as he makes his way to the chariot where he is to ride and lead the procession, I'm somewhere behind him, not so far back that I’ll have to run to keep up with him at the end, but not so close that I take any attention from him. Not that Marcus would care in the slightest, but these Emperors are so damn picky. He doesn’t notice me at first, completely focused on whatever he’s thinking about until he nearly knocks into me. He steps back, an apology forming on his lips that dies there as he takes me in, his eyes roaming up and down my body. 

“You…you’re stunning.”

I can feel my cheeks warm and I glance away from him and back. “I was just thinking the same thing about you.”

Marcus scoffs. “This old thing? I feel ridiculous in it.”

I step up next to him and speak in his ear. “Well then I’ll have to help you out of it.”

A growl rumbles in his throat. “Let’s skip the celebration. Think they’ll notice?”

I smile. “They might.”

“Damn.” He tips my chin up and presses a soft kiss to my lips that starts to heat up when his chariot driver clears his throat. Marcus breaks the kiss, his eyes lingering on my face a moment longer. 

“Sir. Sir, it’s time.”

His eyes are glued to mine and I can see all the anxiety and worry building there, not just for himself but for me as well. “See you up on the hill.”

“I’m right behind you.”

Damn this city is loud. I thought we had a lot of people but they were nothing compared to this. Packed in tight and yelling their approval, I can barely hear myself think. Despite my rapid heartbeat that increases the closer we make it to the center of the city, I can hear them chant his name. Acacius! Acacius! Acacius! They love him. And I find my first commonality with the people here in the great city of Rome.

We turn down a street and head through these massive pillars and down another path, at the end of which stands a massive white staircase. At the top I see 2 men clad in white robes - they must be the Emperors Geta and Caracalla. My stomach turns immediately and I have a sense of foreboding, but that may just be my nerves. I’ve never met rulers of a nation this size before. Marcus hops off his chariot and walks back to mine, offering me his hand as I disembark.

“Are you ok?” He asks as I step down.

I shrug. “As good as I can be.” 

He escorts me up the stairs, pausing several from the top to drop my arm, a move we had discussed earlier, as the Emperors would want to address him directly. I watch him ascend those last steps alone, praying that everything goes alright.

Also to check out his thighs because damn.

Some words are exchanged between them that are lost to me, the crowd behind me is too loud for me to make it out. Then they place a crown of golden laurels on his head, which sends my mind whirling. He looks like one of the Gods themselves. He addresses the crowd with a raised hand as they all cheer and chant his name. Then he extends his hand down to me, his eyes immediately finding mine and trying to offer some comfort. I gather up my tunic and ascend the last few steps, happily taking Marcus’s hand. He gives it a little squeeze and some of the nerves leave my body. 

“Emperor Caracalla, Emperor Geta. May I present to you my wife, Cornelia.”

Pale makeup cakes both of their faces, coal darkening the skin around their eyes making them look less imposing and more…psychotic? Geta addresses me first, his eyebrows raised as his eyes rake over me and flick between Marcus and myself.

“General Acacius. You found yourself a wife. It’s about time.” He takes a step closer to me. “We all thought he would die without having heirs.”

I nod. “I see, my Lord.”

His head cocks to the side, his eyes still on me as Caracalla steps up beside him. “Your hair is absolutely gorgeous! That red is so vibrant!”

“Thank you, my Lord.” Their eyes are studying me, watching me and for the first time, I realize exactly why Marcus asked Lucilla to tutor me. 

“Come! Let’s celebrate and get to know your new wife!” They turn and head into the room behind them, marching up to a table with a few goblets of wine. Marcus looks at me and gives me a soft smile before offering his arm to escort me inside. A servant offers us both a glass of wine and I take it, copying Marcus. 

“We will have the games in your honor, Acacius.” Geta holds out his cup to toast. 

“That is not necessary. I am merely happy to serve Rome.” Marcus lifts his glass to toast, but Geta withdraws his own, Caracalla looking between them with disappointment. 

“Nonsense. We are celebrating your wins, Acacius.”

“The wins are not mine but yours. I do this for Rome.”

Geta stares at Marcus for several tense moments. “Then you’ll be happy to hear we plan on conquering India and many others next, under your leadership of course.”

Marcus’s shoulders droop ever so slightly. “My Emperors. I was hoping to have a break from war to spend time with my new wife.”

My heart swells, but then Geta interrupts my thoughts. “Surely it won’t take you that long to make babies?”

Caracalla laughs. “It might brother. He is old.” They laugh together, Marcus smirking at an attempt to join in the jest, but I’m seething inside. This old man could kill them in an instant. 

“Whatever time it takes, I’d like to make sure my wife settles in and is comfortable before I go off again.”

Geta studies him a moment. “Nimibia.”

I can feel Marcus tense beside me. “What of Nimibia?”

“Take Nimibia for us. Once you return, we will have the games and then talk of a break for your lovely wife.” Getas eyes find mine for a moment, a small smirk playing at the corner of his lips before he looks to Marcus. “That is not a request.”

Marcus takes a deep breath. “As my Emperors command.”

Caracalla claps his hands together. “Excellent! And don’t worry about Cornelia. I’m sure she’ll have fun at court!”

It’s merely a week later when Marcus heads for Port Ostia, his troops sailing this time to Nimibia. We had said several long goodbyes as I held him between my thighs. His last kiss was hard and deep, pouring every ounce of love and worry into it. He pulls back and cradles my face in his hands, speaking so quietly that I can almost not hear him.

“Stick close to Lucilla. You can only trust who she trusts, yes?” I nod. “Say nothing to anyone. There are ears everywhere.”

“I understand.”

He kisses me again. “Please be safe, Cornelia. Court is deceptively dangerous.”

“You’re going off to a literal battle and you’re telling me to be safe?”

There is no smile on his face. “Some battles are fought with swords. Others are fought with words and they can often do more damage.”

He’s right. “I understand. If I miss you, I can simply go stare at your statue.”

Marcus groans, rubbing a hand across his face. “You’re never going to let me live that one down are you?”

I shake my head. “Nope.”

“I did not ask for that.”

“I bet not.” 

“Truly! I came back from a campaign and they demanded it. And now I have to stare at that thing every time I walk down that street. I try to avoid it.” We chuckle together at that and then fall silent for a bit. 

I smooth my hands down the front of his armor. “Listen here, Marcus Acacius. You-” I jab a finger at his armor. “-are not allowed to die. Or get severely wounded. I forbid it. I won’t allow it. Do you understand me?”

A smile tugs at the corner of his lips as he tries to remain serious. “Yes, ma’am.”

We watch each other for a few moments, Marcus brushing a few stray red strands of hair off of my face. One last kiss, a heated one, and then he abruptly spins on his heel and leaves, closing the door behind him. One might find this harsh but I get it. He had to make a quick exit. It’s too hard to leave otherwise. I walk to the window and watch him stride to his waiting horse, taking the reigns from the stable boy as he heads out of the city. 

The house is quiet, except for the street noise from outside. There is a servant wandering around in the kitchen, but I am truly alone in this giant city.

Alone in a city full of people, most of whom I can’t trust. 

It’s been 2 months and I am certain about one thing: I. Hate. Court.

The Emperors demand my appearance at nearly every single party they put on, some of them more mild but most of them are outrageous. They bring in people to fight to the death as they place bets, the blood and body parts splattering across the floor to cheers and geers. The first time this happened, I was not prepared. I practically ran from the room to empty my stomach into the first pot I could find. 

When there weren’t fights to the death, and even when there were, the amount of promiscuity made me extremely uncomfortable. I am not a prude by any means, but I also don’t care to partake in massive orgies, especially when I was not made aware it was that kind of party. Emperor Geta tried to get me to stay, talking to me as I tried to keep my attention solely on him. Eventually, the woman hanging off of him took his full attention and I managed to slip away. Thankfully, no one questioned my absence. 

I tried often to get out of these parties, choosing to spend more time with Lucilla or pretend I was sick. It worked sometimes, either I missed my invitation or I was too ill to answer it. I remembered what Marcus had told me about being careful so when Lucilla told me I would have to stomach at least a few parties to keep up appearances, I did. For Marcus. 

Another month goes by when I receive another invitation. I’m about to say my apologies, as I have no desire to be amongst all of the backstabbing and political plays, but the delivery boy taps the front of the letter, urging me to read it. I open the invitation and my stomach flips, my lips pulling up in a smile as tears drop from my eyes.

Marcus will be home the day after tomorrow, a successful conquer of Nimibia. 

“Let the Emperors know I will be at the welcoming ceremony.” The boy nods and turns, running back to the capital building. 

My mind is whirling with questions and scenarios, mainly wondering if he had been injured. I had only received one letter in his absence, and he told me it would be almost impossible to communicate once he reached a point. Still, it has been hard these last months without him. 

“Leta?” I call out and my servant comes around the corner. 

“Ma’am?”

“General Acacius is coming home. Come, help me figure out what to wear.”

Just like my initial arrival into the city, the crowds are massive and loud and for once I’m glad I’m at the top of these ridiculous stairs. Leta and I had chosen the same outfit I’d worn on that day to match Marcus. Before we head out of the capital building and wait at the top of the stairs, Emperor Geta walks up to me.

“Nervous?” His eyes study me.

I smile coyly, playing my part. “A little.”

“Don’t worry. I’m sure he’s fine. And if not…well I’m sure I can find a place for you here.” He takes a sip from a goblet, his eyes never leaving my face.

I swallow the bile rising in the back of my throat. “You are too kind, Emperor.”

He takes a step closer to me, too close in my opinion. He brushes my hair behind my exposed shoulder, his eyes tracing down my neck and across my collarbone. “I am nothing if not generous.”

Before I can say or do anything, a soldier walks in and salutes, his fisted hand tapping the opposite side of his chest. “Emperor Caracalla, Emperor Geta. They are in the city walls.”

Geta’s gaze is still on my face. “Come. Let’s go see if your husband is still…intact.” He offers me his arm and every fiber of my being wants to reject it. But I remember Lucilla’s words of warning. Always accept an arm from the Emperor. I put on that coy smile and take it, my stomach churning both at his touch and anticipation for what I’m about to see. Caracalla comes to my other side and we all walk out, Geta dropping my arm several feet from where they will great Marcus. I wait and try to remember how to breathe. The crowd gets louder and louder, their cries suddenly taking on a shape.

Acacius! Acacius! Acacius!

Relief washes over me as I realize they’re chanting his name, which means he must be on his chariot. I can’t see from my position, but a few moments later, Geta and Caracalla look down the steps and I assume he must be coming up them. I hold my breath, waiting for my first glimpse of my husband since he left nearly 4 months ago. 

Suddenly, he’s there. Dressed in white and gold, the sun shining down on his beautiful greying curls, a new scar across his cheek, but otherwise in perfect health. All limbs and no limping. I let out another sigh of relief, unable to stop a few tears from tracing a path down my cheeks. Marcus salutes the Emperors, pointedly not looking at me. I know he has to pay them their proper respects. It’s all part of the game. Some words are exchanged between them, but I only have eyes for Marcus, how he leans his head down so they can place yet another crown of laurels upon it, the way he stands strong, but trying not to impose. The way I can see how exhausted he is in his eyes, even though others may not see it. 

“Ah yes. Your wife. She is here.” Geta steps to the side, gesturing for me to come. I follow the command, my eyes on Marcus, seeing his face light up as his eyes rake over my body both in concern and something darker.

Marcus offers his outstretched hands to me and I take them, his familiar touch relaxing me even more. 

“My lady,” Marcus leans and plants a kiss to the back of my hand, standing back up to smile at me.

Marcus turns and addresses the crowd once more, his arm high in the air, before turning back and offering his arm to me, following the Emperors back inside the capital building. A servant comes and offers us wine, which we all accept. 

“We will have games in your honor. May your sword always be sharp and ready for Rome.”

Marcus shifts beside me. “Games are not necessary, my Emperors. I do this for Rome.”

Geta lowers his cup, the sip he was about to take abandoned. “Nonsense. We must give you the praise you’ve earned.”

“I am happy with no praise. I am only here to serve Rome.”

Geta studies him for a moment. “Well then you’ll be pleased to know we’ve decided to go after India next.”

Marcus clears his throat and I can feel him tense beside me. “Emperors, I was hoping to have the time off of war to spend with my wife that we had discussed before Nimibia.”

Geta looks at me and smirks. “Oh, I think she’s settled in just fine. Haven’t you, Cornelia?”

I plaster on as convincing a smile as I can. “Everyone here is wonderful. But I’ll admit, I have missed my husband and would love to have time with him, as husband and wife should.” 

“Mmm…” Geta’s eyes slowly move to Marcus. “And what say you, General Acacius? Would you let your wife keep you from doing what you do best?”

“May I speak plainly, my Emperors?” Geta cocks his head slightly but nods. “I was contemplating retirement. I am not getting any younger and my captain is more than capable of taking my place. It would give me time to start a family on the estate I am due.”

Caracalla stomps his foot. “No games, then? I want to see limbs being chopped off! I want to see blood! I want to see-”

“Brother! Enough. But you do give me an interesting thought.” He pauses, and I feel like I want to vomit. “We will have the games. And General Acacius, you are correct. You are due an estate at your retirement, anywhere of your choosing. However, it would be a great loss to Rome to lose someone of such skill.”

Marcus shifts slightly. “My Emperors, as I said before, my captain is perfectly-”

“I am not finished.” Marcus closes his mouth and waits. “As I was saying, your retirement would be a great loss to Rome. So how about this: you will compete in some of the battles in the games to represent us, Rome, as a sort of…farewell. If you win, you get to retire and you have my promise no one will bother you. If you refuse, you will leave for India immediately and you will continue warring in the name of Rome until the day you don’t return.” 

Caracalla claps and whoops, but all I hear is whooshing, the sounds from all around me fading into the background. Marcus? Compete in the games? The ones where people fight animals and each other and Gods know what else to the death?

“May I have a moment?” Marcus asks. Geta waves a hand, taking a sip of his wine and turning to talk to his brother, who is still animatedly waving his arms about. 

Marcus takes my arm and escorts me a few feet away, glancing around to make sure no one is in ear shot as he leans in, his eyes on mine. “I have to take this.”

“No! I have not been to these games but if they’re anything like the parties I was forced to attend, you cannot do it!” 

“Cornelia, I cannot keep going away to war. The moment I get back they will send me off again. And one day I may fall and not get back up, lost to another land.”

I lean up, pretending to kiss his cheek. “We could run away. Tell them no and I’ll sneak on the ships or take Caius. We could run away and start over somewhere else.”

“My love, you know they would hunt us down and find us. This is the Roman Empire. They own almost all the world.”

Tears well in my eyes as he pulls back. “I am afraid, Marcus. What happens if…if…”

He pulls my hands up and kisses them. “If something happens to me, go to Lucilla. Stay with her. She will get you out of the city safely. They won’t chase just you.”

“No, Marcus. You can’t.”

He presses a soft kiss to my lips. “I must.”   

The next day, Marcus and I sit in chairs behind the Emperors, his hand holding mine as they let loose some animals and fighters into the arena. The scene that follows is not a pretty one but I force myself to watch as the men mostly get punctured with horns or teeth, others being stabbed by their fellow fighters once the animals have all died. One man remained, brown hair and anger in his stance, and he was declared winner of that round.

There were several more rounds of this sort of thing. Sometimes the men would have weapons and other times not. The one thing that was consistent was the blood and gore and death. My stomach churned as I watched the blood pool in pockets around the arena, handlers carting away limbs as the crowd cheered. Then the Emperors stood, Geta turning to face Marcus and I as we stood. 

“Tomorrow, you will have your first match. Sleep well.” He smirks before leaving through the door, Caracalla following in his wake, his monkey perched on his shoulder. I start to say something but Marcus squeezes my hand, shaking his head slightly. It’s not safe to talk here. We hardly say a word to each other on the way back to our apartment, both of our minds on tomorrow. I let Leta go home the moment we come in, rounding on Marcus the second she leaves. 

“You cannot go tomorrow!”

Marcus beckons me to him as he walks to a small table to pour us 2 glasses of wine. He hands me one and we each take a sip, Marcus patting the seat next to him. I take it, setting my glass back on the small table. He speaks quietly, as if he’s afraid there’s someone listening. 

“There is more to this than you can see.”

My eyebrows furrow. “What do you mean?”

He leans in closer. “There is a plan to retake Rome.”

“You mean, overthrow the Emperors?”

“Exactly.”

“And how do you plan on doing that?”

He shifts even closer to me, our bodies touching. “I have 5000 soldiers coming to Port Ostia. Men who are loyal to me as is my captain. They will march into the city and arrest the Emperors for crimes against the people.”

Nerves hit my stomach, both from relief and anxiety. “Then why don’t you move?”

“They won��t be there for another 8 days. We just have to hang on for that time.”

We’re quiet for a moment. “Who takes over?”

“Lucilla and those still loyal to her father have a plan. Rome will serve her people once more.”

Marcus cups my cheek, turning my face to look him in the eyes. “I know I am asking a lot of you, my love. I did not anticipate the Emperors asking me to compete, but I must keep up appearances.”

Tears start to well in my eyes at the thought of tomorrow. “But what if you-” he cuts me off with a kiss, his tongue pressing its way into my mouth before he pulls back, his forehead against mine. 

“Tomorrow is tomorrow. I may be older but I am still a soldier.”

I don’t eat the next morning, Marcus already gone before I wake. Leta dresses me in silence, this time in a black tunic laced with a gold trim, a red scarf to toss over my shoulder. She gives me a small smile. “To match General Acacius,” she says simply, having seen him depart this morning in his armor. 

An hour or so later, I’m sitting in the Emperor’s box, my chair moved to be seated between the Emperors. I clasp my hands together to keep them from fidgeting with my outfit, willing my legs to stop bouncing. A couple of battles go by but I pay them little attention, only noting that the same man with the anger in his eyes seems to have won some more, the crowd now starting to chant his name. Hanno! Hanno! Hanno! Once the arena was cleared and reset, the announcer clears his throat, addressing the crowd.  

“This battle will be different. General Acacius has agreed to compete in the fights in the name of Rome!” The crowd, momentarily bewildered, starts cheering and chanting his name. One set of gates open and several armed soldiers exit, walking to the middle of the arena. Then the gates on the other side open and the crowd goes wild. Acacius! Acacius! Acacius! Marcus struts out into the arena, sword in hand and determination on his face. I hold my breath and I swear my heart stops beating. A few of the soldiers step forward, meeting Marcus halfway. He salutes them, the hand holding his sword pressed to the opposite shoulder as he bows his head slightly, the soldiers copying him. 

And then, he dances. 

Marcus runs at the first soldier, slashing him down instantly with his sword, coming up to meet the next one. He gets tripped and lands on his back but wastes no time in slashing at their ankles, getting back on his feet only a handful of seconds after he fell. Another soldier slices him across the back and I gasp, seeing Marcus yell in pain before turning to slash at the soldier. 2 more rush him and he parries, a fist making contact with his cheek before he can block it. His sword rises and slices through 2 more soldiers within moments, leaving only one left. The soldier knocks him down but Marcus pulls him with him, angling his sword up so the soldier spears himself upon it as Marcus’s back slams into the ground, his chest heaving. 

The crowd goes wild, his name is chanted louder than before, deafening in the echo of the stadium. He rises to his feet, his sword at his side as he looks around, finding me in the Emperor’s box. He puts his fist to his shoulder in salute, bowing to not just the Emperors, but to me. A sigh of relief escapes me as I release the breath I had been holding for what feels like ages. Then a scoff of disappointment reaches my ears. 

“Damn. I wanted to see more blood!” Caracalla whines, his monkey screeching once at the rise of his voice. 

“Don’t worry brother. You may see more of it soon.”

Rage pours through my veins, my chest heaving against my will to not say or do anything. I swallow hard, turning my gaze to Emperor Geta. 

“My lord, may I go and see to my husband?”

His dark eyes bore into mine. “I think they have doctors there that would be better suited to tend his injuries.”

“You are correct of course, but some things require a woman’s touch.”

Geta smirks, the corners of his mouth ticking up in a more menacing way than I think he realizes. “Touche. Go to him.”

“Thank you.” I bow to them both and calmly take my leave, running once I am out of ear shot. I flag down a guard and demand he take me to where they have the fighters, specifically, the General. He escorts me across the arena and down a few tunnels until we come to a giant barred wall with a barred door set into it. He knocks and a man comes to it.

“Is the general here?”

The guard shakes his head. “Healer’s room. Next gate over.” I thank them both and run to the door, my hand raised to knock before I realize it’s not locked. I walk inside and see…no one. No one is here. I walk back outside and look around. Nothing. But then he rounds the corner, a man following next to him, trying to dab at a scratch on his face. He sees me and his entire demeanor shifts. I run to him, throwing my arms around him the moment we collide. He pushes me against the wall, his hands cupping my face, pressing his heated lips to mine, his thigh sliding between my legs. The man clears his throat but if Marcus hears him, he doesn’t acknowledge him. He merely walks me backwards to the healer’s door and kicks it open, the healer complaining and throwing his hands in the air when Marcus slams it behind us with his foot. 

He walks me backwards, our lips still dancing when my back collides with the exam table. He gropes at my tunic, bunching it up to my hips as he grips them, lifting me up on the table. He shifts himself and pushes into me with a grunt, my lips breaking the kiss as I gasp. His fingers are deep and bruising as he holds my hip with one hand, hitching my thighs around him with the other before slamming it down on the table, giving himself more leverage to thrust deeper and harder, the adrenaline from the fight fueling his desires. I bite his lip and he growls, pressing me further into the table with each thrust as I cling to his broad shoulders. My muscles tighten, my blood pulsing between my thighs as I cum, Marcus swallowing my moans with his mouth. He thrusts into me a few more times before he bites my shoulder, grunting and moaning as he spills himself inside of me. We stay like that, attached and breathing heavily for several long moments, his forehead now pressed to my chest. I raise an arm weakly, running my fingers through his hair. Finally he looks up at me, his brown eyes searching mine. 

“Did I hurt you?”

I smile, shaking my head. “You never do.”

He seems to realize where we are now, straightening up and pulling himnself from me with a hiss. I slide my tunic back down and stand up, adjusting my clothes. 

“I am sorry, Cornelia. I lost myself.”

I cock my head. “Sorry for?”

He gestures around. “It is…not exactly the most private place.”

I stand in front of him and grip him by the armor, looking up into his eyes. “You could fuck me in front of the entire Roman army and I’d beg you to do it again.”

His eyes darken, an eyebrow raised. “Oh really? Because I could make that-”

“Excuse me? Sir?” The healer is at the door, cautiously knocking and trying to avert his eyes. “I need to tend to your wounds. If…if I may?”

Marcus and I exchange a smirk. “Yes. I am…sorry. I get carried away by the sight of my wife.”

The healer chuckles, removing his hand from his eyes and looking at me before looking back at Marcus. “Don’t worry, sir. I have the same reaction to my wife. Which is why we have so many children.” 

The next night, we are wakened by a knock at the door. Marcus sits up and pulls on his tunic, gesturing for me to stay in bed. He comes back in a moment later, his eyes concerned. 

“It’s Lucilla. Did you send home Leta?”

I nod. “Yes. No one should be here until morning. Is everything ok?”

“I don’t know. Get something on an come out.”

I do as he says, quickly pulling over a tunic and a sleeping robe before I head out, seeing Marcus already pouring a glass of wine for Lucilla. She thanks him and takes a nervous sip, looking at me as I walk over. 

“Can I speak freely?” She addresses Marcus, glancing back at me. 

Marcus nods. “She knows. Is everything alright?”

Lucilla takes a shuddering breath and meets his gaze. “It’s him, Marcus.”

“Who?”

“Lucius. My son. He’s back.”

Marcus is silent for several moments, my mind trying to catch up. I do remember her mentioning a son at one point, but I assumed he’d died, as she stopped talking about him after a certain age. 

“Are you sure?”

She nods. “I went to see him. This Hanno? That is him. He hates me, Marcus.” Tears start to fall down her cheeks. Marcus takes her hands in his in an attempt to soother her. 

“I am sure that is not true.”

She nods. “He hates me for sending him away.”

“May I speak?” I ask, unsure of my place in this conversation. Lucilla looks up at me, her cheeks glinting in the candlelight with her tears as she nods.

“I was sent away when I was young as well. I don’t think he hates you. He may be upset with you but not hate. I’m sure you didn’t send him away for no reason.”

She shakes her head. “If he had stayed, they would have killed him.”

“Why?” I ask, still not entirely certain I understand Roman politics. 

“Because he is the only heir to the Roman throne. The grandson of Marcus Aurelius.”

I know that should mean more than it does to me, but I have heard his name whispered and seen busts of him, mostly in Lucilla’s home. I know he was her father and from what I gather, the last decent Emperor of Rome. When the Emperors still cared about the people. 

Marcus address Lucilla. “My troops are only a few days away. Then they will come into Rome to arrest the Emperors as planned.”

“But you will also have to enter the arena again during this time. What happens if you die?”

Marcus’s jaw clenches slightly. “My captain would still carry out my orders.”

Lucilla shakes her head. “I don’t know. This feels like too much time.”

“What if we..speed it up?” I ask. They both look at me questioningly. “It’s just…I’ve had to spend a lot of time with the Emperors over the last few months and…they each hate that they have to split the crown with the other. I can see it in their eyes, their small movements and glances towards each other. There is brotherly love, but there is a lot of hate and jealousy. What if we use that to our advantage?”

“How so?” Lucilla asks.

I take a deep breath, knowing that this will fall heavily on my shoulders. “We pit them against each other. Whisper in their ears rumors that they’d heard about the other one. Maybe about them trying to take the crown for themselves? Anything to drive that wedge. They may just off each other.”

Marcus looks at me. “This sounds very dangerous. And there’s no guarantee that it would be quicker than my troops.”

I take Marcus’s hand. “I’ve had to be around them for months, watching. Observing. Trust me, it’s right under the surface.”

Marcus and Lucilla exchange a look. “It could work, Marcus. She’s not wrong.”

“Yes but she will be in danger. I don’t want that.”

I squeeze his hand and he looks at me. “We’re all in danger the longer we’re here. You don’t think they would try to take you out just to have me? Why do you think you’re in the games? I can do this, Marcus. They would love the attention, especially Geta.” 

Lucilla thinks a moment. “They kill each other and my son takes over as heir. Assuming he would want that title. If not, we have a replacement. He already said he would happily stand aside for Lucius.”

Marcus shakes his head. “I don’t know-”

“It would mean far less bloodshed than a battle between soldiers. You know lives are bound to be lost if the soldiers enter Rome by force. This way, only 2 lives should be gone and Rome will be all the better for it.”

Marcus gets up and paces the room, pinching the bridge of his nose with his thumb and pointer finger. Finally he sighs and comes back over.

“Let’s do this.”

The next day, I put on a tunic that Geta had complimented me on previously. Leta fixes my hair, half up with some braids pinned around my head. Leta leaves and Marcus takes her place, his hands on my shoulders. 

“Are you sure, Cornelia?”

I place a hand over his and squeeze. “This will work. I’m sure.”

An hour later, and I find myself tossing my head back with fake laughter at something Caracalla said. I gently touch Geta’s arm as tears stream down his face from laughter. 

“And his head just popped! Clean off! Rolled right across the floor!” Caracalla continues to laugh, turning to one of the men he has surrounding him, who immediately gives him all of his attention. I pick up my glass of wine, thinking of what to say.

“You’re so kind with that,” I nod in Caracalla’s direction, speaking to Geta as I take a sip.

“Kind? With what?” 

I turn and look at him, leaning a little closer, Geta matching my lean. “You allow your brother to go on and on about violence without worrying. It’s clear it means a lot to him.”

“Yes, I am kind…but…I don’t quite catch your meaning here?”

I look up at him, swallowing down the bile in my throat at his close proximity. “Weren’t the two men in his story brothers? Who both tried to control their family farm?”

He shakes his head. “So?”

“So..well, I just thought…oh nevermind.”

Geta shifts his body to face me, leaning closer. “Tell me. Speak freely.”

I hold my wine glass in front of my mouth, as if I’m telling him a secret. “Well, it’s sort of like you and your brother. Twins, having to share the crown. Him being above you being he was born first-”

“He is not above me!” Geta whispers angrily. 

I avert my eyes. “I am sorry, Emperor Geta. I was merely repeating what he’d said to me.” It’s not entirely a lie. I had heard Caracalla speaking about how he was born first and so he was first ruler. But he didn’t say it to me directly.

Fire burned in Geta’s eyes as they shifted from me to Caracalla. “And what else did my brother say?”

“Oh I shouldn’t-”

Geta grips my forearm tightly. “Tell. Me.”

So I launch into a small story I’d made up, planting more and more seeds of doubt in his mind.

That night at their dinner party, I walk up to Caracalla, speaking to his monkey. We chat about monkeys for a moment, Caracalla glancing over my shoulder every so often.

“I’m sorry, Emperor, is there something I’m keeping you from?”

“Hhmm? Oh no. It’s just..” He leans in closer to me. “Geta has been looking at me oddly all day. Like he’s upset.”

I glance over at Geta, who is currently involved in a conversation with a Senator. “I- well I shouldn’t say.”

Caracall looks at me. “Tell me.”

“Well, earlier I heard someone talking about how you’re first born so you’re the first Emperor.”

He nods. “I was and am.”

“Yes, well, Emperor Geta overheard that and was furious. He started telling everyone he was the main Emperor. Not you.”

“Oh really?” The same rage that fired up in Geta’s eyes now burned in his brothers. “He’s always been jealous of me!”

“Well, you do have a great monkey.”

Caracalla looks at me for a moment and then laughs. “You’re right! I do! Come, let me show you how he can dance!”

2 days and I’m spent. I cannot stroke their egos any more. Unfortunately, Marcus is to compete today, hopefully the last battle he will have to do. This time I wake with him, Marcus putting his head between my thighs before I can even move. When I try to pull him up, he declines, saying he needs to save up the energy. Something about it being good for battle. 

“As long as you come home and fuck me into this bed.”

Marcus groans, kissing one of my boobs. “That is a promise. But now, I must get ready or I will simply stay in bed all day.”

“That sounds better. Let’s do that.”

He chuckles, kissing me deeply before pushing himself up and getting dressed, the same armor as he’d worn a few days previously. He cups my face, kissing me gently before looking into my eyes.

“I love you. Be safe.”

Gods his eyes are all big and brown. “I love you. Please come back to me.”

“Now this is another special fight!” The announcer speaks to the crowd. “The strong General Acacius!” The gate at one end of the arena opens and Marcus struts out of it, sword in hand, as he walks to the middle of the arena as the crowd screams his name.The announcer waits a moment, letting the crowd settle a little. “Against the mighty barbarian, Hanno!” The crowd cheers for him too, a mix of names chanting around the arena.

I feel Lucilla behind me, trying not to make a scene. This is not something we anticipated. Marcus should not be fighting Hanno, I mean, Lucius, to the death! My pulse speeds up, my blood quickly pumping through me. Marcus turns, seeing Lucius angrily strutting towards him. But before he gets even part way, Geta stands and addresses his captain.

“Make sure your bows are fixed on Acacius. If he wins, kill him.”

“What??” I gasp out, staring up at Emperor Geta in complete shock. He smiles, the dark makeup around his eyes making them look even more menacing than usual. He sits down next to me, leaning in, a small hand placed on my thigh. 

“Do not worry, my dear. No one will question me and I will free you from this marriage so you can be with me.”

I can feel the color drain from my face. “Emperor Geta, I am..flattered, but I made an oath-”

“And I’ll help you to break it! My wedding gift to you!”

Shit. I flew too close to the sun on this one and Geta took it as flirting. I want to throw up, but there’s nothing I can do. They collide in front of me, swords slashing, Lucius headbutting Marcus as he stumbles, quickly regaining his footing as Lucius slams into him, Marcus using his weight to flip him on his back. Lucius swipes at Marcu’s feet as he leaps back, coming up to lunge at him again, the two men grappling. Lucius manages to slam his hand into Marcus, who relents, turning to shove Lucius into the ground. They roll, Marcus jumping up and to the side as Lucius swipes his sword, barely missing him. But when he rights himself, I can see that Marcus has no weapon. 

Lucius gestures to the staff on the ground with his sword and Marcus picks it up, both of them lunging back into battle, the staff quickly snapping in two. Marcus manages to knock Lucius’s head, momentarily stunning him enough he could get behind him in a chokehold. Lucius flings his head back and Marcus stumbles, quickly rallying with a sucker punch to Lucius’s stomach. They clash again, Lucius dropping to the ground after a few moments, getting back up with a smile on his face. They talk for a moment, but then Marcus throws his weapons on the ground, dropping to his knees, and raising his hand in surrender. My stomach churns and I nearly vomit. What is he thinking? 

“Acacius has raised his hand! He has surrendered!” The announcer yells. “Let the Gods decide!”

I feel Geta shift beside me, but I grab his arm. “Wait!” 

Geta looks down at my hand and then into my eyes. “My love, the Gods will speak through me and this will all be over soon.”

I squeeze his arm, willing my nerves to just give me a moment to think. “I know, but I think we should have a toast. After all, he is your General.”

Geta studies me for a moment. Then he nods and I feel momentarily relieved. “Good idea.” He holds up a hand to request a pause. “The Gods are…deciding!”

While he is distrtacted, I get up, taking the offered glasses of wine, my palla swiftly passing over Geta’s as I hand it to him, my own glass poised for a toast. 

“To us, my dear. And to the Gods.” Geta proclaims.

“To the Gods,” I say back, lifting my glass. I see Geta take a sip and turn to Caracalla, who was just taking his goblet from the tray, having had to adjust the monkey on his shoulder. He picks it up and nearly presses it to his lips before I grip his wrist. “Dont!”

Caracalla freezes. “What? Why?”

“It’s poisoned!”

And that is all it takes to crumble two Emperors. 

Caracalla stands up, pointing an accusing finger at his brother. “It was you! You tried to poison me!”

Geta’s eyes are wild. I can tell he’d thought about poisoning his brother. “I did not! Do you hear yourself, brother?”

But it’s too late. Caracalla’s eyes are wide and nearly black with rage as he steps closer to Geta. “You were always jealous I was first! First out of the womb, more loved by mother, and HEAD EMPEROR!” 

Geta’s fists ball up. “You are NOT first Emperor!”

Caracalla laughs manically and I take this moment to sneak out from between them. I don’t want to get caught in that. 

“Jealous! You can’t even admit that I have a higher station than you! So much that you try to poison me?”

Geta’s eyes are wild with anger, spit flying from his mouth as he steps up to Caracalla, yelling “I wish I had done it because you deserve to die!”

Caracalla gasps, momentarily frozen before looking down, the red blood seeping quickly through his white tunic, a knife embedded in him. Geta quickly removes it, watching as his brother drops to the ground, his body moving no more after a moment. Geta tries to straighten up, but he clutches at his stomach. 

“He…he was mad! He was…he would have…what…is happening?” Geta drops to the ground, groaning and yelling in pain as he clutches his stomach. A servant tries to help him but he yells in their face, the color draining from him as his breathing becomes labored. And then his gaze goes blank, his head dropping against the ground.  

For a moment, no one moves. But then the captain snaps me out of it as he commands his troops. “Keep your bows on him! Stand your ground!”

I quietly sneak to a soldier and, in a move Marcus had taught me, hit a certain spot on his shoulder that send him tumbling, but not before I grab his bow and notch an arrow, another in my hand.

“Move!” I yell and the crowd parts as I raise my bow and aim it at the bewildered captain.

I summon all the courage I have, not just for me but for protecting Marcus, and command “Tell your men to stand down!”

The captain just looks at me, almost smirking. “And what are you going to do with that, little girl?”

I loose the arrow and it glides into the pole just next to his head. By the time his head snaps back to look at me, I’ve notched the next arrow. 

“I don’t want to kill you. Look around. Your Emperors are dead from greed and jealousy. Drop your weapons and pledge yourself to your new emperor.”

Still bewildered, the captain takes a moment to respond. “And who might that be?”

“The grandson of Marcus Aurelius and heir to the throne, Lucius Varius Aurelius.” I nod towards Lucius in the arena, my bow still aimed at the captain. 

“Lucius…he’s alive?” The captain asks.

“He is.” Lucilla comes up beside me, addressing the captain. “I can confirm it.”

He thinks a moment. “Well then. Stand down, men.” He watches me as I wait, watching all of the archers to make sure they’ve all put down their bows. When I’m sure, I lower mine as well. 

The captain turns towards the arena. “Lucius Varius Aurelius! I pledge myself to you!” He salutes, one fist against his opposite shoulder as he drops to one knee, his soldiers all following suit. Soon the entire arena follows, everyone bowing to Lucius who, bless him, looks completely out of his element. He tentatively raises a hand and everyone cheers, chanting his name as it echoes across the stonework. 

As the crowd continues to chant and cheer their new Emperor, I drop the bow and run down the back steps, moving as fast as I can towards the gladiator entrance. The guards, having seen me before, fling the gates open and I sprint past them, moving quickly into the arena. The crowds are still chanting Lucius’s name, but my eyes are purely for one man. Marcus turns his head, seeing me coming for him and stands, his chest heaving from fighting and tension, but he still jogs towards me. We crash into each other, Marcus picking me up, his lips finding mine like they were meant to. He pushes his tongue into my willing mouth and I taste sweat and blood mixed in with his scent. The crowd notices as they change from Lucius to ooooo! I break the kiss, pressing my forehead to his for a moment before I look into his eyes, so soft and warm. A small clearing of the throat comes to me and we turn our heads, looking at Lucius.

“Hi,” He does a little wave. “Uh what the fuck just happened?”

We laugh, Marcus placing me back down on the ground. He drops back down to his knee, saluting him. “I, General Acacius, do pledge myself to you, Emperor Lucius.”

Lucius’s eyes widen even more. “What if I don’t want this?”

“You have a choice. If you think this is not your fate, there is another who will take your place. But he is happy to step aside for the grandson of Marcus Aurelius.” 

He nods, still looking uncertain. “But what if I don’t know what to do?”

I smile at him, stepping closer. “Your mother, and her trusted people, will guide you.”

He nods again, turning back to Marcus. “Rise. Or whatever.” He extends a hand and helps Marcus to his feet. “I totally would’ve had you.”

“Keep dreaming, Emperor.”

4 years later on an olive farm outside of the capital…

The light streams in through the window on my face, gently waking me to a new day. I blink my eyes open slowly, stretching lazily. I try to sit up, but a large arm wraps around my bare torso and pulls me close to his own bare body, burying his face in my neck.

“Marcus,” my voice laced with sleep. “It’s time to wake. The twins will be up soon.”

Marcus groans, a quiet “No” emanating from his chest. “Let the servants cook them breakfast today.”

I chuckle. “They do love Leta’s breakfast. But you also have that meeting with the other olive farmers today.”

Marcus starts to kiss a spot on my neck, applying more pressure so as to leave a mark. He lets it go, nuzzling the spot with his nose as the skin reddens. He continues to kiss my shoulder, gently pushing me on my back as he slots his massive frame between my legs. He stares down at me, softly pushing a stray hair from my face. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he says in awe.

I trace the scar on his cheek with my finger. “Not as beautiful as you.”

He kisses me and then pulls back to nip at my chin. “The farmers can wait. I plan on putting as many babies in you as you’ll let me.”

He pushes into me with a moan, my head pushing back into the bed as he gently slides his hips against mine, taking his time to make sure he gets evey sound, every ounce of pleasure he can from me. 

And when I come downstairs and see him play wrestling with the twins, I think about how lucky I was that my brother tried to use me as a pawn all those years ago. Sure, it was hell enduring my brother, but I wouldn’t have it any other way.

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[cameronspecial]

Assisting In Deception (Part 8)

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings:  Sexual Jokes and Unprotected Sex

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 3.6K 

Summary: Ward's suggestion to Rafe makes him realize that he wants more with Y/N, but maybe she doesn't think the same.

Masterlist

Dax tries to run toward another dog, which causes Y/N to overextend her hand so he doesn’t choke on his collar. “Dax, heel,” Rafe orders, pointing a disapproving finger at the dog. Dax instantly obeys his father, pausing so she can catch up. He turns towards her and begs for her petting. His pants fill the air in delight. “I’m pretty sure he likes you more than he likes me. It’s not fair,” Rafe objects, wrapping his arms around her waist. “He’s taking all your attention. I want it all.” Y/N leans back into his touch. She presses her lips to his cheek, “I’ll tell you a secret, I like him more than you. But only a little bit. You’re lucky you are so good with your tongue, it moves you up the list higher.”

“Oh, is that really all I’m good at?”

“No, you’re also pretty good at guessing what I want to eat. So good at that.”

“Well, I’m glad I can satisfy both your hungers.”

“Yeah, me too.” 

Dax’s impatience pulls the couple away from each other and the walk continues. After a few minutes of walking, Rafe stops at a bench to sit down. “I have something for you,” he announces, pulling something out of his pocket. It’s a small slim box that she knows is a jewelry box. Guilt fills her because whatever is in that box is going to be extravagant and expensive and all she’ll ever be able to offer him is a four-dollar pizza slice. She starts shaking her head, “Boss, whatever that is. I can’t accept it.” “Nonsense, I got it for you. I thought you’d like it,” he insists, waiting for her to open the box. After a small argument about her not being able to take the gift and him saying she can, she finally does. In it lays a teardrop-shaped necklace with a diamond at the bottom of it. It’s simple and not too flashy, so it’s perfect for her. “I love it, Boss,” she turns to him to give him a hug. His lips find her temple, “Perfect. I’m glad you do. Just a little thank you for keeping up with my annoying ass.”

“You’re not that annoying. I promise.”

He laughs at her joke, motioning for her to turn so he can help her put it on. The necklace rounds her neck and lays beautifully between her collarbone. 

——

Rafe and Y/N sit on the couch comfortably. His arm is wrapped around her shoulder and she playing with the rings on his fingers. The ginger and cloves waft through the kitchen and into the living room. The smell brings hunger to her stomach. “Aunt Y/N’s boyfriend, can you play horsey with me?” Amber begs Rafe with the biggest puppy dog eyes. He looks at Y/N to ask if she is okay with that and she gives a slight nod. Rafe gets up from the couch, “Of course, I can little cowgirl.” Amber’s smile lights up the room, tugging him to the middle of the living room. He gets onto all fours and lets the girl get on his back. 

Y/N watches Rafe pretend to be a horse with fake neighs and all. “Amber, come on, sweetie. It’s time for dinner. Nana made the chicken you like,” George tells her. The little girl gets off of his back and thanks him for playing with her before running off into the kitchen with her father. Upon hearing that dinner is ready, Y/N gets up to go eat but is stopped by Rafe, who is getting up from the floor. “I’ll get our food. Don’t worry about it,” he promises, going to the kitchen to do as he said he would. 

Nancy is already in line waiting for food when he enters the kitchen. She takes note of him being alone and double takes, “I’m surprised my sister isn’t trailing behind you like puppy dog towards the food. She loves Nana’s cooking.” “I told her I’d get her food. She looked comfortable on the couch. So what are the must-haves that I need to get for your sister?” he asks looking at the wide range of food Nate’s mother made for the family gathering. Nancy looks at everything, pointing at a few dishes, “She’d get the shepherd's pie, smoked salmon and the honey-glazed carrot and parsnips.” Rafe nods scooping up everything she told him to. “And I’ll get a little bit of everything else for myself in case Y/N wants to have a little bit of something else,” he thinks out loud. 

“Wow, Aunty Y/N. Your necklace is really pwetty,” Felicity awes from Y/N’s lap, playing with the necklace. Y/N smiles down at her niece, “Thank you, baby. Rafe gave it to me.” “You are lucky to have such a good boyfwiend. My boyfwiend only gives me leaves,” the toddler pouts. Her aunt giggles at her words, “You’re a little young for a boyfriend, don’t you think? And, plus, your boyfriend doesn’t have the money to pay for big gifts, baby.” The girl makes a face of understanding and she lights up when she sees Rafe enter the living room. 

He smiles at the scene in front of him, “For my Butterfly, an amazing feast of her grandmother’s cooking.” He hands the plate to Y/N and settles back beside her on the couch to eat his own food. Felicity eyes his plate with much interest. He goes to put some boxty into his mouth when her tiny hand grabs his hand and brings his fork near her mouth. She waits for his approval and then places the utensil completely into her mouth. As he takes turns with Felicity eating the food from his plate, he feels like he fits in with her family. Delilah enters the living room looking for her daughter and is surprised to see her eating already. “There you are, Feli,” Delilah states, heading over to Felicity. “I can’t believe you are actually eating. Normally, it takes forever to get you to eat something.” She looks up at her mother, “Wafey is feeding me, Mommy. He is nice. I like him. He is a good boyfwiend to Aunty Y/N.” 

She raises her arms for her mother to pick her up, which she does. “He is very nice, Feli. But next time, maybe don’t eat someone else’s food,” she turns towards Rafe. “Thank you for feeding her. I’m sorry she ate your food.” He gives her a kind smile, “You’re welcome. And it’s okay. I’m more than glad to share my food if it helps you out with getting her fed. There is lots of food anyways.” “Right. Thanks again. Maybe it can be practice for when you and Y/N/N have a kid,” she teases, walking away to the dining room. Rafe’s cheeks turn red and Y/N’s hand flies to her hair at the mention of them having children. “I’m going to use the bathroom,” she informs him. He watches as she walks off and Phoebe takes her daughter’s place on the couch. 

“It’s nice to see that you are fitting right in with the Campbell clan,” she notes, looking at him with a grin. He turns toward her with adoration in his eyes, “Yeah, everyone here is so great.” 

“They are. I was so nervous about them meeting Y/N and me when I first started dating Nate, but they welcomed us with open arms and that’s how I knew I was dating the right man. I gotta say, I’m glad Y/N has you. She grew up thinking that love wasn’t real because of what happened between her biological dad and me. I always tried to tell her that love can be messy but also amazing, but she never listened. Seeing her with you though. It gives me hope that she finally realized that.”

Nancy’s calls cut their conversation short. Rafe sits back on the couch and thinks about what Phoebe said. He knew that she hadn’t been in any relationship since she started working for him; however, he always assumed it was because of her busy work schedule. He doesn’t know she doesn’t have faith in love. The failure of her biological parents’ love is the reason for her not being able to commit to someone else. He wonders if their fake relationship could really cause her to change her mind. He wonders if they ever got into a real relationship, could he make her see how wonderful being in love is. 

——

Ward and Rafe try to have at least a monthly meal together just the two of them. It started when Rafe’s sisters were born so that Ward could make sure that Rafe still knew how much he loved him even though his time had to be spent looking after the new babies. The tradition lives on to this day. “You and Y/N seem to be going on steady. It’s been what? Ten months now,” Ward comments, pouring them both a glass of whiskey. Rafe nods, “Yeah, it’s going great. We spend most of our nights at each other's houses.” “That’s good. I’m glad you are happy with her. Even more glad that it is good for the business,” Ward pauses. “Have you ever thought about proposing?” 

The whiskey in Rafe’s throat exits his mouth with a cough. He brings a hand to wipe the liquid dripping down his chin. “N-n-no. It’s a little too soon for marriage. Don’t you think?” he stutters with wide eyes. Ward lets out a little chuckle, “Maybe, but I see how you look at her. I’ve seen the pictures. You guys are meant to be.” 

The words Ward just said really do hit home for Rafe. He knew what his dad was referring to and he knew that he had completely fallen head over heels for Y/N Y/L/N. He just isn’t sure how to tell her. The way her hands need to fidget with her hair when she is flustered or nervous. How she gets very excited about food. Her love for her family and Dax. It all made her completely irresistible to him and he wishes what they have wasn’t all just an act. 

——

The thought of marrying Y/N has Rafe stirred up and he needs to see her right away. She hears the need in his voice over the phone, promising to come as fast as possible. He waits for her in his room with his unbuttoned. The sound of her heels on his hardwood floor and the smell of her strawberry shampoo excites him to no end. His already hard cock aches to be within her touch. A female figure appears in the doorway and he smirks at the sight. “Hey there, Boss. I hear you need some assistance with something,” she says in a sultry tone. He loves this roleplay even if it is literally just using their job titles in a sexual way. His look is filled with passion, “I do. I have a lot of work for you, Ms. Y/L/N. You’ll probably have to work overtime.” 

She steps out of the shadows and he drinks in her outfit. Her tiny pencil skirt barely covers the lace of her blue panties. She knows he loves this blue set because he is obsessed with the idea of her wearing clothes that compliment his eyes. Her white button-up shirt doesn’t hide the matching bra and based on how oversized it is, he knows the shirt is one he left at her house. “I’m prepared to do whatever you need, sir. I am here to please you,” she whispers, crawling towards him on the bed so that her cherry-red lips press against the shell of his ear. Her lips move to his and her hand finds its way down to his bulge. 

She starts to palm his dick, slipping her tongue into his mouth. Soon, their lips part and she kisses her way down to his v-line. Her breath hitting his skin down there causes goose bumps to make their way up his arms. She unbuckles his belt and pulls down the clothes blocking her from the one thing she needs most right now. Her tongue draws a line to the base of his shaft, so she can kiss her way up it to his tip. Her lipstick stains his penis and he wants to capture this moment forever. She places a tiny kiss on the tip, where precum is already seeping out, before taking him entirely in her mouth. He bucks his hips into her and she begins to gag on him. The sounds she makes cause him to groan. The air in her lungs needs to be refilled, so she draws back for a second. A line of saliva connects the bottom of her lip to his tip and this arouses her. 

She uses one hand to pump whatever her mouth can’t fit comfortably and her other hand tries to make its way down to her burning core, but his hand slaps it away. “Your job is to work for me. Not yourself,” he tuts, locking his hand around hers so it couldn’t go back. She speeds up her movement on his cock and its twitch lets her know he is about to cum. The bobs of her head don’t stop. His head throws back against his pillow as he cums into her mouth. She swallows all of it, using her thumb to wipe the bottom of her lip to get rid of the escaped semen. He smiles down at him and brings her up by her chin. “I think it’s time to give you your bonus, Ms. Y/L/N,” he mutters in her ear. His hands find their way to her hips, pulling her so her pussy is hovering over his face. She hesitates about letting her full weight fall on him, but he puts no thought into pushing her hips down so she can feel his breath on her vagina.

His hand moves her underwear out of the way so he can attack her clit. The sudden feeling of his lips on her causes her to grip his headboard as support. Her breathy gasps make his dick raise to attention again. His tongue licks up her juices and enters her hole. He tries to eat up as much of her sweet taste as he can prior to sticking a previously wetten finger into her puffed pussy. They reconfigure their position so she is sitting against the headboard to make it easier for him to finger her. She moans out in pleasure as another finger finds its way into her. He curls his finger for him to find her sweet spot. “More. Please, Boss,” she whines with her eyes rolled to the back of her skull. His assault with his fingers continues until her climax falls over her. He works her through it with whispers of being a good girl when she notices he is hard again. 

Rafe is going to take care of it himself when she stops him. She gives his shaft a couple of pumps, bringing his dick to her clothed vagina. He looks at her unsure, letting the game drop for a second, “Are you sure about this? I can take care of myself. We don’t have to do this.” The moment definitely overcomes her and she isn’t thinking straight, but she needs this. She wants to know what he feels like. She wants to pretend like this moment is real. That they are just a loving couple about to make love. She brings his lips to hers. “I want this, I promise. I’m clean and haven’t had sex with anyone unprotected for a year. Plus, I’m on the pill. But if you want to use a condom or don’t want this, then I completely understand.” 

He shakes his head, “I need this too. I’m clean too, by the way.” His tone is so nervous that she finds it adorable. With the confirmation that they both want this, Rafe removes her skirt and underwear. He takes off his shirt and then rips the shirt that she is wearing open. The buttons pop off, flying everywhere. Her bra is the next one to come off. 

His dick slaps her pussy a few times, in anticipation of him entering her. He penetrates her and her back arches in satisfaction. The ache he causes quickly fades away. Normally, both of them would enjoy a rougher and faster pace with their foreplay, but it doesn’t feel right to them at this moment. “You are doing so well, Butterfly,” he praises. His thrusts a slow and controlled, hitting every right spot inside of her. The kiss they share is one laced with longing for each other and quiet moans from both of them. His hand plays with her nipples for a little bit before going to rub her clitoris. The fast motion of his hand paired with his deep and steady force brings her close to the edge. He notices how her walls begin to grip his cock and he speeds up his movements just a little bit. 

He breaks their kiss to whisper, “Cum for me. Show me how good I am making you feel.” Her moans increase and she wraps her legs around his waist to help her meet his hips. “You feel so good, Boss. Keep going, p-p-please,” she pleads. He obeys her please and doesn’t stop. He feels his release about to come, “I’m gonna cum. Where do you want it, Butterfly?” She brings him deeper into her with her legs, “Inside of me, please.” Their lips find their way together again while they both cum. She feels thick ropes of his semen shoot into her, warming her insides. They pant into each other’s faces for them to gain a little more energy. 

He slips out of her and they go through their normal aftercare and bedtime routine. Once they finish, they return to his bed, wrapping themselves in an embrace. “How are you feeling?” he questions, giving her a kiss to the temple. She gives him a tired smile, “I feel great, thank you. It was amazing. How about you?”

“I think I can just about do anything. I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

She nuzzles her neck into his neck. The deep call of sleep lulls them both to a state of unconsciousness. 

——

This isn’t the first time that Y/N wakes up wrapped in Rafe’s arms, but it is the first that she does so after they have sex. Looking at his peaceful figure usually fills her with delight, yet, this time, she feels a problem start to arise. The sex was mind-blowing. No doubt about it; however, she crossed the line she promised herself she wouldn’t. The sex also felt so real to her and that is dangerous. She starts to realize she can’t tell what is genuine or just for show anymore. She worries that when he finally realizes he doesn’t want her anymore, he will throw her away with her heart ripped out of her chest. 

Her shields throw themselves back up again and she quietly removes herself from his hold. She puts her skirt and undergarment back on but finds the shirt she wore here destroyed. His closet calls to her and she fishes out a white t-shirt to put on. She is engulfed in his scent, which she can’t enjoy any longer without feeling guilty for what she is about to do. 

She slips the shirt on and then gets her purse to leave. As she makes her way to the front door, Dax excitedly runs up to her for her attention. She gives him an apologetic smile and kisses him on the head, “I am so sorry, baby. I have to go. But you are such a good boy. I love you even when I am gone.” Tears escape her eyes as she leaves his house for the last time. 

——

A guilt-ridden walk home and shower later, Y/N sits at the coffee shop table, drinking her coffee. She can’t believe she is actually considering getting a new job, but it was always the plan anyway. Being a personal assistant was only supposed to be a placeholder to give her time to figure out what she truly wanted to do. Her cup runs empty, so she gets up from her chair to get a refill. She isn’t watching where she is going, which causes her to smack into someone behind her. Hot liquid stains his shirt because of her accident. “I am so sorry. Let me get you another coffee and my number so you can text me the dry cleaning bill,” she apologizes profusely to the brunet. His chocolate brown eyes find her, “Don’t worry about it, seriously. I hate this shirt. But I wouldn’t mind getting that number so that I can text you the location of our first date.” He gives her a charming smile with the tilt of his head and she lets out a giggle. 

“That’s bold. Don’t you think you should get my name first?”

“True. I’m Henry and what might I call you?”

“I’m Y/N and I would love to go on a date with you.” 

They shake hands. She feels incredibly wrong about going on a date with Henry when Rafe is still in the equation, but she needs something that is real and Rafe doesn’t want that with her. Little does she know that is entirely not true. 

Taglist: @loves0phelia @thelomlisrafecameron @wickedlovely121 @aprilrudgate @loving-and-dreaming @thepatriarchykeychain @maybankslover @abbybarnesstuff @wh0reforbucknasty @spencereidbasis @drewsmusee @starkowswife @mskezza @h34rtsformilli @ijustwanttoreadlols @forstarkey @f4ll-for-you

[jjkamochoso]

The Perfect Fit

Story Overview: Levi Ackerman begrudgingly finds himself falling in love with the Survey Corps’ seamstress. Will they be able to own up to their feelings for each other? Or is their love doomed to fail before they discover the truths of each other’s hearts? This slow burn reader insert story will be filled with angst, yearning, and a bit of mystery as we slowly unravel the truths behind Y/N’s past… and explore her and Levi’s future!

Chapter 1

Series Masterlist

Chapter 2 linked here

Levi Ackerman x female reader

Warnings: cussing

You grunted, lifting the last box into the cart and feeling relief that your sore arms could take a break for the short ride over to the Scout Regiment. You slipped your foot into the saddle of the horse, brought your other leg up and over, and started on your journey. You wanted to enjoy the feeling of wind in your hair and sunshine on your face this fine summer day, but frankly, you were too exhausted to give a damn. Your fingers were numb, your wrists cramped, your eyes dry. You were up all night mending the Survey Corps uniforms. As the resident seamstress, tailor, and only person skilled enough at embroidery, you were always busy, but no time were you more overwhelmed with work than after the group comes back from an expedition. Most, if not all, soldiers’ uniforms had holes of every size that needed to be patched. Pants, jackets, capes—each had to be in working order and acceptable in appearance as fast as possible. There was never enough money allotted to the Scouts to buy new uniforms as often as they should and sometimes you were even left working with clothes of the deceased to clean and repurpose for their living comrades. The whole situation was messed up, sure, but with severe lack of resources, especially with Titans taking up the valuable real estate needed to cultivate more, you understood that you had to make do. And so, you did. Just because something is a necessity doesn’t make it any easier to work with, though. You took to your face a handkerchief to dab away the accumulated sweat as your horse neighed and the cart slowly came to a halt in front of barracks. You were afraid that when you dismounted, your legs would give out in exhaustion, but you mentally slapped yourself. There was no way you would show an ounce of weakness in front of the people who give their lives just to keep you safe. Before you could give it any more thought, a voice called out to you.

“Y/n! Welcome! I trust everything is here?”

Commander Erwin walked toward you, halting his conversation with a shorter man who looked displeased at the interruption, but nevertheless made his way to you as well.

“Hello, Commander. Yes, all of the Scouts’ uniforms are in here, mended and ready to wear.” You slid off your horse and thankfully didn’t fall over. “Where should I unload the boxes?”

“Captain Levi will show you where they go. If you’ll excuse me, I have a meeting to get to.”

Your eyes went wide when you realized who the man in front of you was.

“Captain Levi,” you said, a smile gracing your face, “it’s an honor to finally meet you, sir. I rarely receive your articles of clothing to fix. You must truly be as good as they say if you can avoid snagging your cape in the tree branches.”

Levi had an unreadable look on his face as he let out a “tch.” You were about to say something else when Hange came running over.

“Y/n!” They screamed in excitement, dragging out the last syllable of your name. You were greeted with a big hug from your friend and you felt the tiredness slip away from your body for a brief moment.

“Hange! I haven’t see you in forever! I made sure to stitch up your shirt extra well and took great care to make sure it was straight as can be.”

“Aww, I am your favorite-”

“Isn’t that your job?” Levi interjected, looking annoyed as ever.

You were confused by what he meant. “I’m sorry?”

“Your job. Isn’t it your job to make sure the stitches are straight? Why are you bragging about doing your job the way it’s supposed to be done?”

You felt your face warm in embarrassment. You weren’t expecting to make a fool out of yourself, especially in front of someone as important as the captain, yet here you were. You should’ve heeded everyone’s advice to avoid talking to him or near him at all costs. Hange punched him in the arm, presumably for being so rude around their friend, but you answered him before a fight ensued.

“I don’t have a sewing machine,” you muttered.

Levi raised his hand to his ear, signaling you to speak up. You took a deep breath, frustrated at his attitude.

“I said, I don’t have a sewing machine. I mend everybody’s clothes by hand, by myself, with a turn around time of basically nothing.” You felt yourself getting heated and you knew it was because you were tired, but you kept going. “I fix undergarments, shirts, pants, jackets, and capes for 150 people at a time. I scrub blood from the dead’s clothes until my own fingers bleed because we don’t have enough material for me not to. I’m sorry my standards aren’t high enough for you, Captain, but sometimes I can only work extra hard on one person’s uniform. If I took the time to be that precise with everyone’s, your cadets would be fighting the titans just as naked as they are.” You felt your eyes start to water but you were determined to keep your cool. “Now, please show me where these boxes go. I have lots of work that needs to be done.”

No more words were exchanged as you, Levi, and Hange moved the boxes to an empty room inside barracks. When the work was done and Hange bid you farewell, it was just you and the moody captain alone again. Your horse could sense the tension between you two, stamping the ground in light distress, and you both reached out to soothe the animal. Well, him being an animal lover makes you like him the tiniest bit more. Alas, you knew you had to make verbal amends or else you’d risk getting reprimanded by whatever higher ups caught wind of the situation that you weren’t giving 110% on your work (that inevitably gets ruined the next time the cadets get too rough during training, but you digress).

“Look, Captain, I sincerely apologize for my behavior. I know I technically don’t work under you but you’re still an officer and deserve respect. Just know that I am trying my best to work under these rough conditions, as are you and your team. I hope I didn’t offend you or undermine the importance of your team’s uniforms.” You lowered your head in a slight bow to show your remorse.

“Raise your head, dumbass. It’s fine,” he said, monotone as usual, and he walked away. When he was out of earshot, you groaned. You were lucky that you and Erwin were close or else you figured you’d be fired immediately for your lack of tact toward a superior. Mounting your horse once more, you rode back to your workshop for some much needed rest. With your horse squared away in its stable, you locked your front door behind you and took off your shoes, feeling your pain creep up. You went upstairs to your living area and sleep overtook you as soon as your head hit your pillow.

The next morning, you awoke to a soft knock at your door. It was much too early for any tailoring appointments you had, so after you yawned, you called out, “just a minute!” to let the person know you were on the way. However, when you opened the door, you weren’t greeted with a human, but a sewing machine! You stood in shock for a few moments before sweeping it into your arms, cradling it like a baby. As much as you never wanted to let go of the machine, you put it on your work table to read the note that was attached.

“ALL my soldiers deserve to be fitted with the best uniforms from the best seamstress. Also, go to the damn medic. Your fingers are fucking disgusting.”

If it weren’t for the note, you would’ve thought Hange got you the gift, but no—it must have been Levi! You couldn’t help but giggle at what he wrote as you looked down at your hands. He was right, of course. Your fingers had blisters all over them from sewing too much. He must’ve noticed them when you were moving boxes, or maybe when you touched your horse? Either way, he has a hell of an eye for detail because you were never all that close to him yesterday. Rereading the note, you felt your heart skip a beat. He definitely cared deeply about people, much more than he let on, which was apparent in the way he sourced a literal sewing machine for you in under 24 hours, a feat that few could pull off in these times. But he was just being a concerned captain, that’s all. There was nothing more to his actions, no hidden feelings or anything cheesy like that.

Right?

Chapter 2

[helloalycia]

the king’s ward [four] // morgana pendragon

summary: now that you've left Camelot yet again, you and your brother figure out what to do next, but things don't go to plan...

warning/s: mentions of blood, injury, fighting and kidnapping.

author's note: and here’s the final part! this was a fun one to write so i do hope you all enjoyed it :)

one / two / three / masterlist / wattpad

"We could offer to help out on a farm in some outlying villages," Y/B/N said thoughtfully. "Might be a nice change of pace."

I groaned quietly as we rode slowly through the forest. "That's so boring. The last time we did that, I literally fell asleep guarding the chicken coop. It was a pointless job."

He chuckled. "That was too good. But I guess you're right. We've got enough supplies to last us the week, so for once, we can take our time with it."

I hummed, grateful. "Maybe we could go to the–"

Suddenly our horses neighed in unison, coming to a halt and throwing us off. Out of nowhere, a small group of bandits came rushing towards us, having hidden in the tree line. Y/B/N and I forced ourselves off the ground and grabbed our swords, moving to defend. But he was still weak and I worried for him, staying next to him to keep him safe.

There were too many bandits, enough to surprise and overwhelm us anyway, and with Y/B/N's injured shoulder, we were pinned down quicker than we'd ever been. They grabbed Y/B/N and pressed a dagger to his neck, making me pause as I had my sword raised to strike.

"Don't," one of the bandits warned me. "Give me your sword. Now."

I squeezed the hilt, stressed and worried and unsure how to respond, but they squeezed Y/B/N's injured shoulder, eliciting a groan, and I had to drop the sword, kicking it towards them. One of them scrambled to pick it up as the leader looked to me.

"Your mask," he ordered, motioning to my face.

"Y/N, don't–" Y/B/N started, but they punched him in the gut, silencing him.

"You can take the horses," I said, tugging off my mask. "Just let us go."

The leader laughed dryly. "So you're a girl. I knew it."

I wondered how he knew who we were, since we never showed our faces nor left anyone alive to make enemies.

"Your brother here dies unless you give us back our prize," he stated. "The King's Ward. Right here. Tomorrow night."

I tried to hide my surprise, but that's when I recognised the bandits' outfits. These were part of the same group who orchestrated Morgana's kidnapping. Maybe Y/N and I didn't get them all like we'd thought. And now they were back and we were screwed.

"I can't," I told him, trying not to give anything away. "She would never follow me. Especially not so soon after a kidnapping."

"Figure it out," the leader snarled. "Maybe next time you'll stay out of affairs that aren't yours."

I clenched my fists with irritation, but he didn't care. Instead, he nodded to Y/B/N.

"You and the girl, alone," he added. "Or your brother dies."

Y/B/N began to shake his head, eyes meeting mine. "Don't do it, Y/N. It's okay. Just don't– dnfffuff–"

They pulled a cloth around his mouth, muffling his words, and all I could do was stay frozen, watching as they dragged him back, stealing one horse and whistling for their others. The leader looked to me with a warning stare before leaving, my brother sat behind him, tied up.

As soon as they were gone, I grabbed my sword and immediately mounted my horse, turning around to race back to Camelot. It hadn't even been a few hours – just our luck that we'd been ambushed. But there was no time to dwell on it, not when Y/B/N's life was on the line. I couldn't even dare to think about what would happen if I left it too long.

Of course I wasn't going to give Morgana to those sickos, but I couldn't fight them off myself. My only hope was Arthur, and I desperately hoped he would help.

With tears whipping from my cheeks as I rode swiftly through the trees, I tried to focus on what I could do rather than what I couldn't. And within the hour, thanks to my intense riding, I made it back to the centre of Camelot.

Almost falling off my horse in the process, I dismounted and sped up the staircase towards the castle. I knew where Arthur's room was, but there was no way I'd be allowed there without being escorted out. Thankfully, I didn't need to think of a way to find him as I soon saw Merlin roaming the halls. As soon as he saw me, he approached with confusion. And then he must have seen my red eyes as his expression dropped.

"Oh, no, what is it?" he asked, looking between my eyes. "What happened, Y/N?"

I couldn't help it. I frowned as more tears streamed down my face. "They took Y/B/N, Merlin. I need to get him back. I have to speak to Arthur."

He didn't understand, not fully, but he nodded anyway and led me to Arthur's room as quickly as he could. Without knocking, he walked in and I followed after him.

"Merlin, do you not know how to–!" Arthur started, but stopped once he saw me. "Oh, Y/N. You're back so soon."

"She needs your help," Merlin explained. "They took her brother."

Arthur stood up from his desk, expression hardening. "Who?"

"The bandits who tried to kidnap Morgana," I told him, voice more hoarse than I wanted. "They ambushed us in the forest and took him, threatening his life if I don't return there with Morgana tomorrow night. Arthur, I can't do that, but I can't lose Y/B/N. I'm pleading for your help."

I anticipated much more begging and, potentially, deal-making, but Arthur was already rounding his desk and grabbing his jacket.

"Come with me," he ordered, already walking to the door.

I glanced at Merlin with confusion, wiping my face. He was as confused as I.

"Well?" Arthur called when we didn't follow him. "We're going to have an audience with the King! We can't just leave Y/B/N there. We don't have long."

Both surprised and relieved, I followed after Arthur as he led Merlin and I to the throne room. The knights guarding it immediately parted to let us in, and Arthur walked briskly down the centre of the room, towards his father who was talking to Morgana. Gwen was stood the side and a few more knights were guarding the interior, and when the doors slammed close accidentally behind us, everybody looked our way.

"Arthur," the King acknowledged, before his eyes fell to me. "And you... I thought you left."

"Y/N," Morgana muttered, already sensing the discomfort. "What is it?"

I would have preferred if she didn't know at all, but she was here and it was inevitable. I merely gave her a sad glance before letting Arthur lead the conversation.

"Father, I'm asking your permission to take some knights and help rescue Y/N's brother from some bandits," Arthur began, and the King tried not to laugh.

"I beg your pardon?"

With a sigh, Arthur began to explain what the situation was, but the King didn't seem the slightest bit sympathetic. Exactly what I'd feared would happened.

"Look, Y/N," Uther began once Arthur had finished, and I knew it wouldn't be good. "I'm grateful for you saving my ward, both you and your brother, but I cannot help you."

"My Lord!" Morgana interrupted in protest, but he ignored her.

"The Lady Morgana is worth much more to me than your brother is," Uther stated.

"I would never wish to endanger her," I reminded him with a bitter tone, because I'd literally said that and he just wasn't listening. "I'm only asking that you can send some of your knights to assist me in rescuing Y/B/N. Together, I have a chance of getting him back. Alone, it's suicide."

"I'm sorry," he said without consideration. "It's not a risk I can take."

I clenched my jaw as I met his gaze. "Surely you would want to find out who is so badly wanting to kidnap your ward? This would be the perfect opportunity to do so."

This seemed to turn a cog in his brain as he frowned with thought, finally considering it.

"Father, I can spare a few knights," Arthur tried to convince him. "Let me go. We can be in and out in no time."

"No way," Uther decided, making any hope of mine dwindle. 

Sighing, I closed my eyes with defeat. I should have known better than to ask King Uther for help.

"My Lord, please," Morgana begged him. "They saved my life! The least we can do is return the favour!"

"It's asking too much!" Uther said with finality. "I have made my decision. That's it."

The hall fell quiet as Uther's echoes ceased. I opened my eyes, feeling nauseous at the thought of having to attempt a rescue by myself.

"Thank you for your consideration," I said to the King once more, before bowing and leaving before he could say anything. The last thing I needed was to waste what little time I had left to make a move.

Once I left the throne room, I walked up the steps with the intention of the leaving the castle and making a plan of my own. I barely made it to the hallway when Morgana's voice called for me from behind.

I couldn't ignore her, so I stopped and turned around to see her catching up to me with a worried expression.

"Don't leave," she pleaded immediately, hand clutching my arm in case I tried to walk away. "It's me they want. Let me help."

I scoffed. "Morgana, I'm not trading you."

She didn't know what else to offer, I could see it in her desperate attempt to cling on to me before I gave up and left.

"It's okay," I tried to assure her, not wanting her to feel guilty. Resting my hand on hers, I squeezed it gently. "I'll think of something."

She shook her head. "I'm going to talk to Arthur."

I frowned at the reminder. "You saw what happened in there. The King said no. There's nothing more Arthur can do."

"Just let me try," she said, mirroring my frown. "Please. He'll help. I know he will. He isn't like Uther."

If I hadn't seen firsthand how considerate Arthur could be, I wouldn't have believed her. But with Morgana's help, maybe the crowned prince could come around.

"I don't have long," I reminded her. "If I have to do this myself, I'll need the time to find the bandits. I can't wait all day."

"You won't have to," she promised. "Wait in the citadel. I'll find you soon."

I nodded, believing her. Her green eyes lingered on mine worriedly before she left to keep to her word.

It was barely an hour later when Morgana found me in the citadel, trying not to chew off my fingernails. Judging by the expression on her face – an attempt to stifle her smile – I assumed it was good news, but the knot of anxiety was still pressing on my heart.

"What did he say?" I asked her as soon as she was close enough.

She fixed me with a reassuring stare. "Arthur will meet you outside the city walls tomorrow midday. You're going to get Y/B/N back."

Exhaling with relief, I pressed a hand to my chest. "I don't know what to say. Thank you so much, Morgana."

"Don't thank me," she said, before pulling me in for a hug. "He'll be okay. Arthur is the best."

I returned her hug, appreciative of her help. She owed me nothing, but she was still helping me out and I couldn't have been anymore grateful.

Just as promised, Arthur found me outside the city walls the next day with my horse and sword. I was surprised to see he'd slipped away from his father's hold, and with a couple of knights, too. Merlin was at his side also, though I couldn't imagine the two ever being apart.

"How are you holding up?" he asked once he dismounted, looking over me with a hidden concern.

"Better now that you're helping," I admitted, before meeting his gaze. "Arthur, I'll owe you forever. Disobeying your father isn't what I–"

"Consider us even," he interrupted, offering a small smile. "You did save Morgana and Gwen after all."

I sighed, knowing it wasn't exactly the same, but there was no point arguing it. We needed every minute we had before the bandits expected my arrival.

Ready and already equipped with a plan, Arthur introduced me to his fellow knights before explaining what would happen. I would have laughed at how ridiculous it sounded if I didn't have any other choice. He wanted one of his knights to wear Morgana's cloak and I would pretend to make the trade, making sure to request Y/B/N's presence. And once the bandits were fooled, we'd strike. A surprise attack that I could only hope would work.

After choosing the shortest knight, Arthur and I watched as he stripped down to his shirt and trousers and wore one of Morgana's finest cloaks, pulling the hood over his head and looking down so his face wouldn't be revealed. Surprisingly, he played the part well and, from a distance, looked like someone from royalty. As long as the bandits brought us Y/B/N before studying 'Morgana', we'd be okay.

Once everybody had their positions marked out on a map Arthur had brought, we ventured into the forest and took to our roles. I waited where Y/B/N and I had been ambushed yesterday, holding the arm of the knight dressed as Morgana. The others were hidden amongst the trees, trained to be out of sight and to make no sound. I assumed the bandits would have their own back up plan, so I kept my eyes peeled, though I was sure Arthur had it all under control.

Not even minutes later, horses galloped towards me, skidding to a halt when they saw who I had. The bandits dismounted, swords raised, and amongst them was my brother. I held my breath as I looked over him – aside from the few bruises he'd sustained, he looked okay.

"Well, well, well," the bandit leader announced with shock. "You actually did it."

I swallowed hard, sneering at him. "Just give me back my brother."

He grinned, before attempting to lower his head to look at 'Morgana's' face. Thankfully, the knight embodied his role well and shivered, moving to hide behind me. The bandit leader bellowed with laughter.

"What is it? Is the Lady Morgana suddenly shy?" he asked rhetorically. "That's not what the rumours have suggested." His fellow criminals laughed as he continued, "She better liven up when we take her. Hengist wouldn't want her to put up a fight."

Hengist? The warlord, Hengist? No wonder they were so desperate for Morgana. They wanted to ransom her! How awful.

"My brother," I repeated firmly.

He rolled his eyes. "You're no fun. Fine." He nodded to another bandit. "Make the trade."

They dragged my brother forward, his wrists bound and a rag in his mouth. I reluctantly led the knight forward and we made the switch, with the bandit taking ahold of him in seconds. I quickly moved to untie Y/B/N and yanked out the rag, making sure he was okay. And before I could even check to see what had happened with the others, the knight pretending to be Morgana had stabbed the bandit holding him in the neck.

Their complete and utter surprise was the perfect opportunity for Arthur and the others to yell out a war cry and run from their hiding spots, engaging in combat. One knight stayed behind, firing arrows from a distance, and I unsheathed my sword before defending my brother and I.

The element of surprise only lasted a few seconds before the bandits jumped into the fight, slashing and stabbing and parrying with eagerness. Alone, they would have been a challenge. But with the infamous knights of Camelot on my side, we handled them in record time, leaving behind only their leader.

Arthur had him grovelling on the ground, his sword at his neck.

"I want you to deliver a message to Hengist," he spat down at him, seething with anger, no doubt from the way they had spoken of Morgana earlier. "If he ever tries anything again, I'll go over there myself personally and kill him on the spot. Understood?"

The bandit leader nodded repeatedly, scrambling to find words. "Y-yes, my lord, o-of course."

Arthur clenched his jaw as he lowered his sword. "Get out of here! And don't let me see your face again!"

He nodded once more before jumping up and running away, out of sight and out of mind. Relieved, I sheathed my sword and turned to face Y/B/N.

"You're okay?" I asked with a lump in my throat. "Tell me you're okay."

"I'm okay, Y/N, I swear," he assured me with a weak smile.

I ignored him and pulled him into a tight hug, practically squeezing the life out of him, but I couldn't care less. He was alive and okay and we'd bloody done it!

Before I could properly acknowledge that fact however, I saw one of the supposed-to-be dead bandits on the ground behind him, moving slowly. Realising he was standing up with a knife and heading straight for Arthur, who was talking to a knight, I let go of Y/B/N and yelled out, before shoving Arthur out of the way. Unfortunately for me, the bandit landed a lucky blow to my abdomen, the knife piercing straight through my skin. A sword came down on the bandit, but I felt a hot pain as I looked down.

"Oh, no," I mumbled, my hand coming away with fresh, deep red blood.

"Y/N!" Y/B/N shouted, before helping me to stand as my weight was suddenly too heavy to handle on my own.

As he lowered me to the ground, Arthur kneeled down next to me, looking bewildered. "Why on earth would you do that?!"

I swallowed hard, my mouth suddenly dry. "I didn't really think it through."

"Give me something to cover her wound with, now!" Y/B/N yelled out to the knights.

I heard a ripping sound and then Morgana's precious robe was being folded and pressed to my stomach area. It didn't feel good, the pain sharp at first.

What happened next, I couldn't exactly recall. There was a lot of shouting and jostling me about, my eyes opening and closing with glimpses of faces and trees and the blue of the sky on this clear summer's day. Thoughts drifted in and out, my brain not focusing on anything except the relief that Y/B/N was safe.

I must have been brought back to the castle, recognising the ceiling of Gaius' quarters and Gaius himself. Again, I was in and out of consciousness, never awake long enough to say anything, but there were glimpses of Gaius, Y/B/N, Merlin, Morgana and even Arthur. It couldn't have been good, I knew that much.

And finally, when I came to without immediately drifting off, I saw Y/B/N and Morgana sat beside my bed, their saddened expressions just about visible between my tired, blurred vision.

I sucked up a breath, a whine escaping my mouth. "What happened?"

At my voice, they both looked to me with surprise, tears in their eyes.

"Gaius... I need to get Gaius!" Y/B/N suddenly said, before squeezing my hand and almost tripping over the stool as he ran to leave the room.

I furrowed my brows, confused and not quite acknowledging where I was or what was happening. Then my eyes fell to a staring Morgana, her wet eyes widened.

"Why are you crying?" I asked, mouth drier than ever. "Is Arthur okay?"

She began to smile, snickering as she wiped at her eyes. "Yes, you idiot, it's you who isn't."

I didn't understand, not straight away, and then I began to remember the glimpses of faces, the forest, the bandits, Y/B/N being hurt, the blood. Instantly, my hand felt for my abdomen, relieved to feel a bandage covering the wound.

"Okay, it's starting to hurt now," I mumbled, before wincing when the ache was becoming recognisable the more I woke up.

Morgana took my hand between hers, earning my attention again. "Y/N, you saved Arthur's life. And mine. And Y/B/N's. You're a hero."

"I really don't feel like one," I said jokingly, a terrible attempt to both lighten the situation and take the attention away from my actions.

She smiled softly, though it didn't reach her eyes, and then pressed a kiss to my hand, making my brain short circuit.

"Everybody thought you weren't going to make it," she said quietly, reluctantly.

I swallowed hard, pulling my gaze from her lips and forcing myself to meet her eyes. "Well, here I am."

She didn't let go of my hand, merely smiled with relief. Before either of us could say anything more, Y/B/N returned with Gaius in tow, eager and excited.

"You're awake," Y/B/N said, as if he still couldn't believe it.

"I'm pretty sure I told you not to get hit by arrows," I chastised lightheartedly. "Look what good it did? Now I'm bedridden!"

He was smiling hard, unbothered by his teary eyes. "You're so stupid."

I rolled my eyes playfully, but a ghost of a smile was on my lips.

"It's good to see you're okay, Y/N," Gaius said with relief. "I feared you wouldn't wake up after how much blood you lost."

I opened my mouth to answer, but was interrupted when another figure entered through the door. It was Arthur, followed by Merlin, and they both looked to me with surprise.

"For God's sake, can everyone stop looking at me like their dog died and I'm the dog?!" I said, attempting to sit up to prove that I was fine, but it hurt more than I could disguise.

"You need to stay put," Gaius ordered lightly.

I sighed deeply, before looking to Arthur, glad he was alright. He smiled at me gratefully.

"I owe you," he said. "You saved my life."

I waved my hand dismissively, hyper-aware of the warmth in my face.

"I must ask that you all give Y/N some space," Gaius said politely. "I need to check her health and it's too crowded in here. You can visit later."

They all nodded, sending me friendly smiles. Morgana squeezed my hand once more before leaving with the others.

Being bedridden was not ideal. In fact, I was very much hating every second of it, apart from when the others came to visit. I wasn't a fan of being stuck with my thoughts, nor having absolutely nothing to do or being unable to move.

Y/B/N stayed with me most of the time for the week I couldn't get up, thankfully, and the others visited when they could. Arthur came once, to make sure I really was okay, and another time to remind me that I owed him a fight. Merlin and Gaius were also there a lot considering they lived there and were keeping me alive. And Morgana stopped by regularly, sometimes with Gwen, to make sure I had everything I needed. Having that many people who actually cared about my well-being was strange, since I was so used to only having Y/B/N around. But I didn't hate it. I only worried I was getting too attached...

One afternoon, Morgana came to visit and I was a little too glad to see her, mostly because I was getting very bored staring up at the ceiling. As soon as she sat by my side, I propped my head up so I could see her better.

"Don't get me wrong," I started with a small smile, "I love the company, but I get it can be boring. You don't need to be here."

She shrugged. "It's my fault you were hurt. I do."

I lifted a brow, surprised she believed that. "It really isn't, Morgana."

She gave me a knowing look, disagreeing. "They took Y/B/N because they wanted me. You saved Arthur trying to get him back. I'm the cause."

I rolled my eyes. "Oh, how far that is from the truth. People like those bandits hurt because they can. They get greedy. I was only doing what was right. Even if it wasn't you in danger, I would have reacted the same way."

She smiled with amusement, eyes meeting mine. "I don't doubt that."

I pressed my lips into a smile. "My point is, either way, it's not your fault."

She tilted her head, eyes staring off ahead, and I knew she didn't quite believe me.

"Anyway...," I tried to change the subject, missing her attention, "tell me about your day."

It seemed to work as she chuckled, looking back at me. "There isn't much to tell."

"Uh-huh."

Laughing now, she gave in. "Okay, well I went dress shopping with Gwen earlier..."

I was very much content just laying there and listening to Morgana speak, even if it was about the simplicity of her day so far. The glimmer in her eyes, how soft her voice carried itself, how animated she became when talking about stuff she enjoyed... it was a sight to behold, or maybe I was just super infatuated with her. Either way, I wasn't complaining.

Unfortunately, the hour in which she kept me company was apparently a lot more than I could take as I soon grew tired, unable to stay awake for too long a time, especially with the medicine Gaius was giving me to numb the pain. As much as I tried to disguise it, Morgana wasn't blind.

When she fell silent, it took me a moment to realise she was just staring at me. I blinked, about to speak, but she beat me to it.

"You're tired."

"I'm not."

She quirked a brow, and it was impossible to lie to her, even though I really wanted her to stay.

"Okay, maybe a little," I admitted. "But I'm okay. Please, stay."

She shook her head, smiling softly. "You should rest, Y/N. I've been here long enough."

"You don't have to–"

"I'll return later," she assured me, already pressing a hand to mine. "I promise."

I exhaled quietly, nodding. Her smile widened, eyes flickering between mine. Leaning down, she gave me a hug the best she could, and I lifted my arms to return the favour, eyes threatening to close because of how comfortable I was. But then she let go. And I barely blinked when her hand cupped my cheek and suddenly she was pressing her lips to mine in a tender kiss.

I couldn't even react, too surprised to acknowledge it, before she'd pulled apart and I was submerged in green.

"Sleep tight," she whispered, completely unaware of the fire that was spreading over my face.

Words escaped me and then she let go and flashed me a smile before leaving. She kissed me? Me?

And I didn't do anything?!

A few days later, I found myself stood before King Uther, the third and hopefully last time in my life. I was finally well enough to stand up, so Arthur insisted I speak to the King, especially since he obviously knew about Arthur's disobedience. I was certain I was going to get yelled at, but surprisingly I didn't.

"I'm not impressed that Arthur left to help you," Uther was saying, "but you did save his life. You're constantly proving to be a skilful and honourable swordsman. Woman. Whatever."

I pressed my lips together, unsure what to say as he frowned to himself, like he couldn't quite believe what he was saying. It would have been amusing if it weren't aimed at me.

Arthur cleared his throat a little obviously, bringing Uther back to his point. and Y/B/N and I exchanged nervous glances.

"I would like to offer you a job in Camelot," he finally said, making me raise my eyebrows. Had I heard correctly?

"I'm sorry, you– you want to what?" I asked, though the hidden smile on Arthur's face behind him made me think I'd heard correctly.

"It seems that everybody keeps trying to hurt my ward," he said with regret, before sighing. "And everyone seems to underestimate your talent. It would put me at great ease if Morgana had a personal bodyguard of sorts, and you're the perfect person for the job."

Unable to hide my shock any longer, my mouth opened slightly. Glancing over his shoulder, I caught the Morgana's eyes, seeing her smiling at me hopefully. Was this her doing? Arthur's? Or did the King finally deem me worthy of something other than being a peasant woman?

"You look like a handmaiden, but you're not," Uther continued to explain. "If you're always with her, I know she'll be safe. Anybody who even tries to lay a hand on her will have you to answer to."

I swallowed hard, still reeling from his offer. A bodyguard? For Morgana? That would mean staying in Camelot permanently. Living here. I'd be with her all the time. And I hadn't even properly spoken to her alone since she kissed me the other day... there so much to think about it. And I told the King exactly that.

"I appreciate the offer," I said with a nod, "but I would like to have a think. Discuss it with my brother."

Uther nodded. "Of course, of course. Try not to take too long though. We'd like to have you start as soon as possible."

I nodded curtly before Y/B/N and I bowed once more, then left the throne room. My thoughts were still playing catch up, but we barely made it into the hallway when Y/B/N came to a halt and stepped in front of me.

"Did you hear what he said? He must really be starting to respect you!"

I scoffed quietly. "I wouldn't go that far..."

He gave me a knowing look. "So, you're obviously going to do it."

I looked up at him. "What?"

Expression softening, he said, "I'm sick of constantly moving around and I know you are, too. Camelot is nice. The people here are lovely." He glanced around at the empty hallway before adding in a quiet voice, "And you obviously like Morgana. She seems to like you, too. Why don't we stick around?"

I breathed out tiredly, meeting his eyes. "You make it sound so easy."

He laughed, pulling me close by the shoulders. "It is!"

I rolled my eyes and shoved him away, a ghost of a smile on my lips. "But what if we don't like it here after all? What if we're not cut out for this life? Working for noblemen?"

"I'd hardly call being Morgana's bodyguard working for noblemen," he said with amusement. "Besides. If we don't like it, we leave. That's the point. To try new things."

"I suppose you're right..."

"I always am."

I rolled my eyes again, beginning to walk away. "You wish."

His laughter echoed down the hall as he joined my side. "This won't be a mistake, Y/N, I just know it."

I pressed my hands down my dress before knocking on Morgana's bedroom door. After a moment, it opened to reveal Gwen smiling at me.

"Good morning," she said as she stepped to the side to let me in. "Morgana, your new handmaiden is here!"

I groaned quietly at the new job title, making Gwen laugh as she left the room. Morgana spun around from her position at her dressing table before stifling a smile as she looked me up and down.

"Don't talk about," I said knowingly, referring to the awful dress I had to wear. "It's to blend in."

She stood up and approached me, a chuckle escaping her lips. "Blend in it does."

"If anybody dares make a move against you though, I'm ready," I said with confidence.

"Oh, really?"

I pulled up the hem my dress, showing her where I had a knife strapped to each knee, making her laugh at the sight.

"Ah, yes, I feel perfectly safe now," she said, with a hint of sarcasm.

"That's the plan."

Her smile widened, eyes flickering between mine, before her expression softened. "Thank you for agreeing to this job, Y/N. I know it's not ideal. If I could, I would have made you a knight. God knows you deserve that honour, and it would have been much more respectable than the Lady Morgana's second handmaiden."

I shrugged, hoping she knew I didn't mind as much. "It's okay. I chose this. And at least I can be sure you're safe now. No more surprise kidnappings, right?"

She smiled with amusement, eyes not leaving mine, and I found myself getting distracted by the gold flecks in her irises. We still hadn't mentioned the kiss – I was starting to believe I'd imagined it – but I couldn't let it go amiss anymore. I was head over heels for her, allowed or not, and I needed to know how she felt. It was now or never.

"So now is probably the wrong time to bring this up," I started, attempting to disguise my nerves, "but the other day when you visited me at Gaius', you, er, you kissed me. And I'm just– well, I'm not sure if it was like a friendly kiss or–"

Before I could finish, she leaned forward and kissed me yet again, only a short kiss that barely lasted a few seconds. I was certain my face was hot as I remained as confused as ever.

"Okay, so either that was another friendly kiss or a complete accident," I said, clearing my throat.

Her eyes lit up as she laughed, shaking her head. "Neither."

My heart fluttered involuntarily. "Neither?"

She rested her hands on my shoulders, pulling me closer. "I like you, if that wasn't obvious."

I exhaled softly. "It was, but I couldn't be certain."

Her eyes lowered to my lips as she smirked playfully. "Be certain."

I found my eyes lowering to hers too, enticed by her red lipstick. Well, if she liked me, what was I waiting for?

Finally gathering the courage, I cupped her cheek and leaned in, pressing my lips to hers. She hummed contently, relaxing against me and sending shivers all down my spine when she rested her hands against me for support. Kissing her was unlike anything I'd imagined and when we pulled apart for air, my lips were craving hers instantly.

"I've been waiting for you to do that for a long time," she admitted, words ghosting my lips.

I tried not to scoff playfully. "Easier said than done, my lady. You can't just approach a royal and kiss them, even if you do think they like you back. And especially not if they're a girl also."

Her lips curved into a smile as she stifled a laugh. "Fair enough. You have no excuse now though. You're my handmaiden slash bodyguard, remember?"

I gave her a teasing glance. "I don't recall that being in the job description. In fact, it's the opposite."

She met my gaze with her challenging one. "Good thing you're not much of a rule follower then."

I smiled, unable to hide it any longer, admiring her dark lashes, the slope of her nose, the slight smudge of her lipstick. "Yeah. Good thing."

[toxooz]

Do you have a backstory posted for ramsuse? I think he’s an interesting character and you’ve said he used to be human so I’m very curious 🙂

ROIGHT SO i gotta See it with my own eyes so i drew lil illustrations to go with it so letsa go buckle UP yall ALSO tw for like graphic gory description and suicide mention aaand i think thats it OK:

waay back arooound 1870's I'd say behold a man! Ramsuse was a very well distinguished hunter who also did bounty hunting. Being a big brawny man he had a big brawny horse as well who was named Appocolus, a shire draft horse (the Big Ol honses) and had a wife named Myrna:

They were happily married for about 5 years, owned a pretty small farm, and took a lot of hunting trips together (most likely sold the skins/ meat along with eggs ect.) but yeah huntin n fishin was one of their favorite activities to do together. They didn't live far from a small town where they did their trading and shopping from and Ramsuse was a pretty well known bounty hunter in the town and even had a small group of other bounty hunters that he would team up with occasionally. Back then, in most towns, it was still a Big Thing for monsters to exist and was often treated as a frankenstien event (light the pitchforks yada yada); but in this part of the overall timeline demons kind of infested some parts of the world (side note obv. that didn't last forever and the majority of demons and that of the like ended up being chased into caves and hidden crevices of the world which is maybe why Mogak had to go into a big ass demon cave community to get that demonic D.) some entire towns could become completely overrun with demons and many caused chaos and ruin among the land, which probably gave a lot of other unrelated monsters a bad rep. hence why they would be ridiculed as well. It was pretty common for demons to be outlaws and outliers, and it was also common practice for humans to capture demons (typically demons who were minding their own business (like Ollie in the cowboy au👀)) and sacrifice them in churches or do mass killings so it was kind of a back and forth rivalry between humans and demons during this time. Granted, while demons and humans were at war, naturally demons are more powerful than humans without any manmade advantage-so side backstory Myrna's parents got killed by a demon in their house when she was a child and she was orphaned for the rest of her adolescence, so she's carried a special kind of bitterness, fear, and hatred towards demons throughout her life.

As their town slowly starting having more and more demonic issues, a certain demon cowboy was a prominent culprit of the reoccurring destruction of the town:

he had the ability to transform people into demons and his "horse" is basically just another demon that tried to mimic a horse to be able to assist in the bidding of the outlaw (ie: it's ears are actually horns, it's neighs sound more like a donkey and hyena mixed together, ect) He too led a gang that tormented towns and cities, only they were damn near impossible to pin down. Ramsuse was the main tracker for trying to find him and every time he did, the outlaw would slip through the cracks of their dimension which would eventually drive Ramsuse to insanity and intense resentment towards demons and monsters trying to get the outlaw. It got to a point where that's all he wanted to do was try to find and catch the demon, even his own group of bounty hunters opted out and urged Ramsuse to do the same at least for a while, for it was eating away at his soul. Though it was out of love for his wife and their own town, he would leave for days and put off hunting trips that Myrna wanted to go on in order to attempt to capture the outlaw. Until one night he followed a seemingly deliberate trail of clues that led him to a run down cabin out in the middle of nowhere. The demon outlaw was patiently waiting for him when he barged in like a bat out of hell, however Ramuse was having none of it and went straight for his throat upon first look. He mopped the floor with him for a while until those eye flaps on the demons face latched onto the bounty hunters arms (kinda like venom slime stickin to shit) and started searing Ramsuse's flesh off to reveal his new demon skin. It eventually traveled through his entire body as he slowly burned to death, his horns erupting from his head probably feeling like his brains were being squeezed out of his skull, his old teeth being simultaneously pushed out by bigger lion-like teeth, his body getting bigger as his burnt dead skin fell off in bloody sheets to give way to the contorting muscles as the demon outlaw observed in deranged satisfaction

by the time Ramsuse could come to his senses, the outlaw was long gone. During the physical altercation, outside Appocolus and the demon horse got into it as well. When the draft horse saw that abomination of a horse, every red light went off in his sixth sense and he lunged for it, however it mauled him back and it's teeth essentially had the same burning effect in which Appocolus was doomed to the same fate as his rider.

Ramsuse spent several days trying to track any possible trace of the demon to see if he could somehow be changed back, but he was nowhere to be found. As time went on, desperately trying to find any way to change himself back at this point, dread began to seep into him like rot on a dead carcass as he realized he had no choice but to go back home and face Myrna with this new demonic vessel that he was cursed with.

As he reluctantly arrived at his house, he tried to talk to Myra through the door as a way to prepare her as much as he knew how. He attempted to stay behind the door as long as possible, beating around the bush as to what just happened, but she didn't understand why he was acting this way and only tolerated it so much before she opened the door and upon first glance immediately scrambled for a gun

Completely overrun with past memories, she refused to believe him and was convinced that a demon Actually killed him and took his form to get to her and was merely feigning his distress just to make her vulnerable. Ramsuse quickly saw her state and decided it was best to just do what she demanded and he fled after she shot at him.

After what happened, that was the final straw that broke the camels back and Myrna took to the town to try and tell people what happened to her husband. Nobody has witnessed anyone being turned into a demon and coming back ( they just knew people vanished or were just straight up dead) and with her being a woman back then, nobody believed her not even Ramsuse's former bounty hunter group. They drew the conclusion that Ramsuse merely found another woman and ran away with her, so Myrna was deemed mentally unstable and was locked up in a facility where she soon died of a fatal self inflicted wound. Ramsuse could only watch all of this happen from afar for he had no idea how to get through to her or to even show his face anywhere ever again as he drowned in grief and self hatred over time. He was cursed to be immortal as he became just a wandering cowboy, doing bounty work in passing towns. He took more heavily toward monster communities, however his bitterness and resentment toward the concept of life itself made both him and his horse extremely vicious and brutal to anyone around him. He would start bar fights regularly and kill more bounties that were strictly wanted alive and then he would kill lawmen if they so much as looked at him wrong he was just a whole ass mess. Appocolus was outcast as well by all horses, both feral and domesticated, so he too became very grudge driven and hostile. He would assist Ramsuse in tormenting and killing anyone they deemed deserving by biting and trampling as well. As the years flew by Ramsuse and Appocolus only had eachother in the world and now that the wild west is almost completely faded out he has a house and barn he made himself out in the middle of nowhere ( like somewhere around Montana or somethin if he was in this world I'd say) he owns thousands upon thousands of acres that he preserves and patrols( to make sure no bitch ass puts a gas station or mcdonalds anywhere PFFT) so theres pretty much a large chunk of the state that is untouched by modern life bc he Will destroy anything by any means necessary so nobody has successfully bought any land. so yeah now hes just a bitter old demon who refuses to move on from his timeline while desperately clings to whats left of his memories and avoids society except for an occasional bar run from a super old bar that's probably been around a while as well :') AIGHT i think i got everything abt his ass 😭 if u bothered to read this far HOPE U ENJOYED!!

[scorchieart]

Double Deflection

Genre: Slice of Life, Comedy

Characters: Maron, White Horse, Licht Klein, Chevalier Michel

Wordcount: ~6400

Prompts: Blue: Loyalty, Yellow: Friendship

Summary: A late-night chat between horses and humans. Each has the potential to offer something, but gestures and facial expressions and mind reading aren't enough to tell when someone is asking for help.

A/N: My entry for the Wish Upon an Aide CC hosted by @lorei-writes and @wordycheeseblob. This story may borderline crack with its execution, but I hope it's an enjoyable read regardless.

If you were to ask Maron what he most wanted in the entire world he might respond with an enthused neigh, throwing back his mane, and a clop clop from his front-right hoof. If Maron could speak, he could say it was to eat carrots fresh from harvest, or to race through the fields outside the palace with the other horses, or to snooze indoors on a rainy afternoon while his rider Licht sang him a lullaby. Or something along those lines. In truth, it is difficult to say. The intricacies of horse communication cannot be covered comprehensively through text alone—tail swishing and muzzle twitching can easily get lost in translation, you see—but an attempt will be made to relay the events of this particular evening from both the equine and human perspectives to most accurately depict the story from all participating views.

Now, as we were saying, Maron, much like yourself and I, often finds it difficult to express his desires when asked on the spot. Any manner of things could affect the answer, from the place to the weather to even the time of day. Indeed, a much simpler question to ask (man and horse) is what he dislikes the most. And in the palace stables on that muggy summer’s eve, Maron was confident he was experiencing the absolute most dislikable thing imaginable.

“By the way, the kitchens were out of carrots.” 

Licht ducked his head in time before Maron whipped his tail.

“There’s no use taking it out on me,” Licht said, straightening up and resuming brushing Maron’s flank. “Believe me, you do me a favor eating them. But I swear this time they were gone before I could get to them.”

Maron snorted once and rubbed at his muzzle in what one would believe to be a contradictory manner.

“I doubt it. You should’ve seen the way Yves’s eyes lit up when he read about that new carrot cake recipe from Jade. He ordered double the monthly stock of carrots. And Leon approved it without even batting an eye.” At this, Licht covered his mouth and let out a small groan that on the surface appeared as though he was repressing a gag. Maron wiggled his nose in circular motions in response, which I am told is the horse-equivalent of scoffing and rolling one’s eyes.

“Don’t give me that. I said I’m fine,” said Licht, but both he and Maron knew he wasn’t. 

It is at this point I must confess that while I myself am not proficient at human-horse translations, my ineptitude is not a universal ailment. If you were so far unaware, there exist in our world a gifted few interspecial interpreters across the ages. Perhaps you have seen a dog warmly protecting a flock of chicks while the hen takes a bath? Or maybe you witnessed a squirrel rushing to call a goose to save a kitten from drowning in a lake? Sometimes this communication is as implicitly universal as a mother cares for her young, while in more curious cases gesture and sound bind common souls together. On exceedingly rare occasions, such a bond can manifest from one source to multiple different species with zero previous contact, as is the case with the Eighth Prince of Rhodolite. But just as special can be the connection built upon years of collaboration and struggle and trust, and Licht and Maron checked all these boxes multiple times over. Why, when Licht wraps the reins twice around his hands, Maron understands to hurry home because Yves is baking something special. And when Maron bonks his jaw against Licht’s head, Licht knows he’s being chastised. And whenever Licht says “I’m fine,” Maron learned it always to be a lie.

“Really, I am,” insisted Licht. “Let’s go for a ride in the morning. You’ll see.”

Not in the mood for an argument (they always ended up with them going in circles), Maron turned to look out the window and the two resumed their brushing routine without communication. The dewy night air hung thick and silent around them, and several times more Licht had to cover his mouth and cough as he worked. Maron’s ears twitched at the sound, but he never commented further. 

Just allergies, Licht told himself. Horse doesn’t know what he’s thinking.

And the night would have continued on unyieldingly so, as it always did when they disagreed in private, were it not for an unexpected development. The hairs on their limbs shot straight up as a cold, prickly sensation overtook the summer warmth, and Licht and Maron spun their heads towards each other in unison. Someone was entering the stables. 

Stubbornness forgotten, Maron slowly lifted his head and peered over the high walls. His stall was located in the back corner of the stable, but even through the darkness he could make out the tall cloaked figure leading a horse by hand through the entryway. 

Licht tapped his knuckles against Maron’s neck. What do you see?

Maron raised a hoof up and down twice. One human and one horse. Both look male.

Got it. Stay low. Licht quietly reached for the sword he lay on the ground beside Maron’s grooming tools. A prince wouldn’t be so foolish as to wander the palace unarmed, and Licht knew better than most how easy it was to sneak past the grounds undetected through the stables.

Be careful. Maron gently rubbed his muzzle against Licht’s back and ducked low behind the wall. What was meant to be encouragement consequently had the opposite effect on Licht. Maron, like all who lived at the palace, knew of his rider’s unparalleled mastery of the sword. It is said that his skills were only rivaled by two, but Prince Leon was presently knocked out on his couch after a full day tidying up the faction office, and to even consider Prince Chevalier to sneak around at night like some common hoodlum was simply unthinkable. So Maron’s warning made Licht grip his sword more forcefully as he took a defensive stance by the door. 

What need would a talented fighter have to visit the stables at this hour? Licht pondered the question as the foot-and-hoofsteps steadily approached their stall. Was it a spy fleeing into the night to relay royal secrets back to his master? A horse appraiser here to kidnap (horsenap) a prized palace stallion to sell off for exuberant riches? An enemy of the royal family who knew the swordsman Sixth Prince was an equine enthusiast and would therefore hesitate to fight back with a defenseless horse on the battlefield?

The truth, as I am sure you have already deduced, was none of the above. Unfortunately, the only living thing in the vicinity that could steer Licht’s thoughts away from the bizarre was currently pondering whether he could fight with a flat brush between his teeth if things became too dicey. And with the intruders now only a couple of stalls away, Licht did not have the agency to think rationally and burst out from his stall ready to swing.

What followed was a short, anticlimactic confrontation that I am sure Licht would prefer never to see the light of day. Unfortunately for him, Maron found the whole affair rather amusing, so I shall provide an abridged account.

No sooner than Licht exited the stall did an overwhelming cough threaten to overtake him. Midway through winding his arm for an attack, he had few options to steady himself from the conflicting forces of his limbs propelling him forward and his lungs pushing him back, and in the heat of the moment he elected to toss his sword upward into the air and simultaneously tackle the mystery man. He had hoped the shock of it all would stun his opponent long enough for him to recover and strike again, but this plan came to an early stop when his midsection was caught by a pair of taut arms and he found himself flipped, lifted, and staring upward into the displeased face of Prince Chevalier.

If you have ever been caught by your elders for sneaking out of your room past your bedtime, you would understand only a fraction of the dread coursing through Licht’s nerves in that moment. Aside from the obvious fact that he ambushed (with the intent to at the very least incapacitate) the Second Prince of Rhodolite, Licht was physically in a state he would best describe as Yves’s Fashion Nightmare™. His eyes were redder and less alert than usual, his frown curved down farther than it had in years, and his typical restless bedhead stuck out at wild angles, not in the least bit aided by the fact that he was currently suspended upside down. But oh, the worst offense of it all was his wardrobe! When the coughing fits had extinguished any hope of getting sleep, Licht slipped into the muckiest boots in his closet, tossed on a tattered old coat from his teenage years, picked up his sword, and headed straight for the stables. He could only pray Chevalier was too distracted by his annoyance to notice the wrinkly, hay-infested, cough-stained mess of his nightclothes. 

Chevalier’s stern gaze followed Licht’s to his outfit. Whoops… I forgot to mention Chevalier could read minds as well as narrations. 

“Please put me down,” said Licht, his voice barely masking: and spare me some dignity. Behind them Maron let out a sound almost like a chuckle, and Licht shot him a warning look he was sure lost all credibility of appearing threatening.

“What purpose have you here at this hour?” asked Chevalier, still holding on. It took a great deal of fortitude for Licht to not give in to his embarrassment and wiggle his way out of Chevalier’s clutches like a worm, but in the end he swallowed his discomfort and strained his neck to look back up.

“I could ask you the same,” Licht replied, and instantly regretted it. The blood flow to his brain must already be making him hysterical. Is that how blood worked? How long was he upside down for, anyway? 

Chevalier’s expression twisted into a deeper frown that easily topped any of Licht’s personal records. “Employ deflection at your own risk, mime,” he warned. But just as Licht was calculating the combined punishment for assaulting and backtalking Chevalier, a sudden gallop echoed across the hall, the pressure on his stomach lifted, and Licht fell head-first onto the mucky stable floor. 

Once the pain and shame faded enough, Licht opened his eyes and sat up expecting to find Chevalier towering over him. When all he saw was Maron merrily rolling on the floor whinnying, apparently now fully recovered from the intruder fiasco, Licht wondered if it was all just a sick-induced hallucination. The figures cloaked in night, the galloping, this headache; surely it was all in his mind and he merely tripped and fell from exhaustion. Bothered and bitter, he buttoned his coat and rubbed his bruising head, wondering if anything like this had happened recently, when Chevalier appeared once more in the entryway patiently guiding White Horse back inside.

“You frightened him,” he said when they reached the back stall. 

“Me?” said Licht, forgetting his headache and rising to face the pair. In all the years he’d known him, White Horse proved a stallion who did not know fear. Chevalier selected him to be his trusted steed from among all the foals—even passing up baby Maron and his adorable wobbly knees—because he was the first to fully stand on his own and the quickest to wean off from his mother. As the years passed, he only grew more magnificent and intimidating among his peers, heading fleets into battle like the gleaming helmet of the army. White Horse admitting he was afraid seemed the equivalent of Chevalier admitting defeat.

“Indeed. He was shocked to see you bursting out of the stall like a lunatic,” said Chevalier.

Licht felt his eye twitch, and not from the returning pain. “He’s a war horse. He’s seen far worse than that,” he said.

“True,” said Chevalier, “but you have never appeared before him looking so disheveled.”

A knot swelled in Licht’s throat. Was Maron right? Surely he hadn’t neglected his condition so carelessly that he let his appearance grow abominable enough to scare White Horse of all creatures. Yves, perhaps, but that was exactly why Licht had been avoiding his brother like the plague. 

“You do have some manner of plague,” said Chevalier.

“It’s only allergies,” Licht countered, muffling a cough into his arm.

“Strange how the clown never developed the same.” 

It was only then that Licht noticed Chevalier carried a bag across his shoulders when he pulled something out and tossed it. Licht caught it and looked it over; it was a newly washed towel, like the type soldiers used during training, but the stench it gave off was far more repugnant than even a shirtless, sweaty Prince Jin in the height of July. An earthy smell that lay buried deep in the back of his mind, but Chevalier was not intent on giving him the time to dig it out.

“Clean your face, it is offensive,” he said, then moved past Licht to look in the stall. Maron instantly sobered and stood. “And you, get out.”

“What for?” Licht asked. He held his breath and quickly wiped the sweat and grime from his face.

“This is White Horse’s preferred stall.”

“We were here first.”

“And I asked you first what you were doing here, and you have yet to answer me,” snapped Chevalier. “Our needs supersede yours unless you can prove otherwise.”

Licht and Maron each glared back at him, simmering in place. It wasn’t as though they didn’t have their reasons for choosing that particular stall; Maron enjoyed the bit of extra leg room the corner stall provided while Licht favored it for its distance from the entrance and ease to hide away in. But the other corner stall on the opposite side of the hall provided the same advantages, and Licht and Maron wondered why Chevalier and White Horse couldn’t simply occupy that one.

Normally, Licht would either frame his suggestion of the other corner this way or simply agree to move out to avoid confrontation, but he was ill-feeling courteous tonight after Chevalier banged his head like a boiled egg.

“What’s so special about this one that the others don’t have?” Licht asked. If by now you’re thinking Licht was playing his luck talking back yet again to Chevalier, you’d be right. But ever the megalomaniac (as Prince Clavis would insist), Chevalier acknowledged an informative rebuttal to his authority as a worthy challenge and allowed the conversation to continue for just a little longer.

Chevalier rolled his eyes at this insinuation. “The window,” he responded.

“They all have windows,” said Licht.

“This one provides the best view of town,” said Chevalier, then he huffed. “I grow tired of this chatter. Vacate yourselves before I do it myself.”

Licht was not satisfied, but he knew better than to argue with Chevalier once a discussion was deemed concluded. Though Maron would take some more convincing to leave. They were still midway through grooming and all the tools were laid out and ready after all, but to Licht’s surprise the horse walked out without any prompting, passed Chevalier, and lowered his head to sniff the towel in Licht’s hand.

“Don’t lick that, Maron. It’s dirty,” said Licht, pushing him away. But Maron pressed his nose to the towel and began chewing at its edge. “It’s not food. Stop!” Licht grabbed the other end and pulled and pulled, but Maron’s chomp was firm and refusing to yield.

“Haybrain,” Licht said, tugging harder. “You’d think you were munching on a bunch of—” And then the pain in his head nearly completely vanished as a wave of realization surged through him. Sometimes it takes a little longer for Maron’s messages to reach Licht.

Still maintaining his grip, Licht steadied his stance and asked, “Prince Chevalier, what else is in your bag?”

Chevalier, who had been leading White Horse into the newly emptied stall and therefore took little notice of the tug-of-war behind him, curled his hand around the straps on his shoulder at the sound of his name. “Has your condition also turned you excessively chatty?” he said. “Perhaps some rest will restore your quietude, mime.”

Licht and Maron exchanged a glance across the towel and nodded. “Employ deflection at your own risk. Now!” yelled Licht, and the two charged towards the stall. 

If you have been at all paying attention to this unwieldy tale, you may recall the last time Licht attempted to ambush Chevalier earned him an unsavory bump on both his pride and his forehead, and you are probably wondering what on Earth would lead him to believe a second attempt would fare any better. You may also remember in that little skirmish Licht threw his sword up in the air and have probably been questioning this story for the past few pages about where it landed. Rest assured, these inconsistencies shall be answered in due course. But first we must discuss strategy.

In addition to being a gifted swordsman, Licht was also a budding tactician. And while his brothers agreed his open-fighting battleplans leaned excessively self-destructive, no one could deny Licht’s acumen for sneak attacks. Even Maron trusted Licht on this front, which is why he made sure to match Licht’s speed in their charge even though his trajectory would knock him into White Horse. As soon as Chevalier noticed their approach, he whipped around, grabbed the towel with both hands, and ripped the fabric in midair. 

The force of the rip wobbled the two off guard, and while Maron quickly managed to steady himself to a reasonable halt before colliding with White Horse, Licht surged forward and knocked his side into a pillar separating two adjacent stalls. But before his fall, he made sure to wrap his remaining half of the towel around Chevalier’s wrist and drag the man down with him. The impact of the hit shook the entire building, causing a certain misplaced sword that was previously precariously balanced just above the princes to slip out of its place and fall. Chevalier, still stuck in the hand trap, roughly shoved his and Licht’s bodies out of the line of descent and replaced them with his bag. The bag cushioned the fall and prevented the sword from ricocheting into anyone, but not without sacrificing itself to the cause as the blade cleanly cut through the linen and deposited the contents within. Dozens of bright orange carrots, of different sizes and thicknesses by the bushel, spilled out from the tear and rolled across the stable floor.

This narrator now takes this chance to inform the audience (and Prince Chevalier) that Licht is also very skilled in deflection. And in humility.

“I’ll keep my mouth shut if you do,” Licht offered once the two managed to pry as many carrots as they could away from the hungry horses’ mouths. They piled the saved carrots into the bag and lifted it together to keep them out of the horses’ reach and from spilling again.

“The information I have on your condition is far more significant than a simple carrot heist,” said Chevalier, unperturbed by the turn of events.

It was the truth. Licht nabbed carrots from the kitchens loads of times before, and the response from the cooks never extended beyond an angry rant to the domestic faction office about coordinating supply every few months or so. Jin always claimed it was probably a herd of hungry rabbits sneaking into the kitchens at night, and that was enough to placate the masses. Missing carrots didn’t spell the end of the world, after all. Surely they would treat this incident in the same way. On the other hand, Chevalier still lorded Licht’s illness over his head like a carrot on a stick (which in Licht’s circumstance meant the exact opposite of that saying). Any moment now he could decide to leave the stables and tell Sariel about Licht’s total lack of self-care. Or worse, he could tell Yves.

No, Licht had to gain some leverage over Chevalier right there and now. If only he could figure out why he was there in the first place.

The bag seemed to increase in weight with each passing moment, and the orange poking out from the rip goaded Licht like a heckler in the audience. He shut his eyes and breathed through his mouth to stave them off. Just their presence muddied his mind—why did there have to be so many carrots? 

The best he could do for now was to keep up the deflecting. Even if that meant he had to keep up the talking.

“If White Horse eats this many, he’ll have an upset stomach in the morning,” he said.

“They were not all meant for him, obviously,” Chevalier explained. “When dealing with animals, extra precautions must be taken to guarantee a successful transaction should any anomalies arise.”

Licht pondered over those words. Couldn’t Chevalier ever say what he meant directly? (“No,” said Chevalier.)

“You’re saying you needed hush money—er, food in case other horses saw you two? Were you expecting to wake up the entire herd?” asked Licht.

“Precautions taken for the worst-case scenario naturally account for any hypothetical.”

“Except for my being here, apparently.”

“No, I had accounted for this as well. Though I had expected you to have fled from the vicinity of all these carrots by now.”

The tear gaped slightly as Licht’s hold tensed. Did Chevalier view him as a child who still couldn’t look foods he disliked straight on? Was Chevalier basing his reactions on tests he performed on Nokto, he wondered? He recalled a time years ago when Nokto returned from a diplomatic trip to Benitoite complaining about how their boasting of their recent super successful carrot harvest forced him to cut the trip short. It was the first time in ages Licht felt so strong an urge to console his twin when he heard the news, but what if Chevalier had a different reaction? Something seemed off about it all.

He decided to test his theory. “You’d need a boat-load of carrots to do that. And strand me on a deserted island first,” he said.

“I shall keep that in mind for the next order and charter a vessel from the Jangler,” said Chevalier.

“Nokto already asked us to halt carrot orders to the palace once. Leon told him to submit a lengthy request form with evidence and justifications and we still voted against it, three-to-one. Unfortunately.”

“My word supersedes the clown’s, as well as it does yours.”

“I wasn’t implying otherwise. Only that palace supply orders are under our faction’s scope, not yours,” said Licht. This time the rip tore larger from Chevalier’s end.

Licht really was only speaking fluff at first, but now he felt he was on the verge of uncovering something scandalous.

“In fact, food orders are specifically handled by one of us four princes to prevent showing favoritism to any one noble or grower. And we keep the records of all orders locked in our office,” he continued. “Strange how you were able to run your worst-case scenario calculations when supply was different this month. Was it just a happy coincidence?”

“Enough stalling,” said Chevalier. “Speak your mind directly.”

“Prince Chevalier.” Licht paused and inhaled. “Have you been illicitly influencing the domestic faction’s operations behind the scenes?”

The stables went eerily quiet. Even the horses, who stopped following the conversation ever since the carrots came into view, could tell an intense weight had dropped, and this time Chevalier was on the receiving end. Maron silently cheered for Licht, while White Horse ground his teeth impatiently.

Slowly, purposefully, Chevalier’s mouth widened to a grin. One that simultaneously filled Licht with a sense of victory and unease. “You speak it as though it was a laborious effort, when in truth it does not take much to influence you buffoons. A cursory inspection of your office is proof enough of your dullwittedness, which made it exceedingly simple to send the clown over on his futile carrot prohibition request to peer pressure your lot into establishing a cleaning routine. Even simpler was it to determine which days were Black’s, considering he wakes with an obvious imprint of his couch’s pillow embroidery plastered across his cheek. But simplest of all was slipping the latest edition of Jade’s Renowned Recipes onto the showoff’s desk the morning after one of Black’s cleaning days.” 

The only thing preventing Licht from completely tearing up the bag was the understanding that it would drown him in those awful carrots, and that would only make him more upset. “There’s no way Nokto would agree to that,” he said to release some of the anger. “Your plan ended up with double the order of carrots in the end.”

“I never deigned to have co-conspirators,” said Chevalier.

It didn’t make sense, and yet with Chevalier it could. But it took such precise managing and calculating of everyone’s opinions and behaviors to have carried out so perfectly.

“But… but you still miscalculated,” Licht said in a small voice. “With me.”

“An unfortunate side effect of your seclusiveness. Lack of data points skews the probability of success. But this defect is of little consequence in the grand scheme of things,” said Chevalier, dropping his face to a frown once more. “Very well, we shall agree to never speak of this encounter beyond this night.”

A victory? Against Chevalier? On a mental battlefield? By all accounts, Licht should have been thrilled, even if this arrangement meant no one would ever know of his triumph. But a hollowness still dominated inside, different from the betrayal he felt from Chevalier’s reveal. He looked to Maron for support, and even his horsey smile wasn’t enough to satisfy his troubled thoughts.

“You still admitted political subterfuge, even if this is an admittedly minor instance of it. How can we guarantee you haven’t done it in the past, or won’t do it again?” asked Licht.

“You have my word that I have not nor shall I ever plot such an endeavor again without the knowledge and approval of the eight,” said Chevalier.

That should have sufficed, but Licht shook his head. “I’ll need some collateral to prove your sincerity.”

Chevalier narrowed his eyes. “What do you require?”

“Half your remaining carrots,” he said. “And tell me why you did it.” Maron perked up and licked his lips greedily while White Horse snorted and rushed beside Chevalier.

“White Horse says one-fourth and no more,” said Chevalier.

“Half,” Licht demanded. “Yves never would have put the double order if he wasn’t so intent on baking the carrot cake for me.”

Chevalier and White Horse stared intently at each other. You may have guessed correctly that these two make up another human-horse bonded pair, but unlike Licht and Maron, they mainly communicated through staring contests to determine the other’s thoughts and feelings. To the onlooker it is a curious sight, and Licht and Maron watched the pair mentally debate like statues for several awkward minutes until at last they broke apart.

“Agreed. But tonight you must vacate this stall and share your grooming tools,” said Chevalier.

“Fine, you can use them after we finish our routine,” said Licht, and the princes set out dividing the carrots equally among themselves and leading their respective horses into opposite stalls. Maron happily gobbled up his share before Licht could finish setting his tools up again in the new stall, and White Horse solemnly poked his head out of the window as Chevalier passed him carrots at regular intervals. A complacent tranquility settled in as the sounds of horse munching, hair brushing, and the late night summer breeze whooshed through the stables, calming its occupants and warming their hearts. While these two princes were inclined to introversion, the silent acknowledgement of horse care they shared bonded them on that night closer than they ever knew in the past.

Once the grooming session was completed, Maron shook his head satisfied as Licht patted his neck. Licht packed his tools neatly in their kit and crossed over to the other stall, ready to hear Chevalier’s story, when he saw his brother holding two long strips of ribbon, one bright yellow and the other bright blue, up to White Horse’s pearly mane.

“They’d both look nice on him,” Licht said as he entered the stall. He extracted a fine brush from the kit and began working out the knots in White Horse’s mane.

Chevalier watched intently, holding the ribbons closer so Licht could see. “But which will look nicer?” he asked.

Another ripple of warmth began to swell in Licht's cheeks, but a breeze hadn’t blown in a while. Did Chevalier actually value Licht’s opinion?

“Well, maybe the blue will look better in the daytime and the yellow at night,” Licht replied. Chevalier hmmed and took the ribbons back, tying them into different intricately shaped bows on his fingers. No doubt Yves would find them charming, and a small smile involuntarily crept onto Licht’s face as he pictured the three of them dressing up White Horse in tiny bows. 

What a ridiculous idea! As if Chevalier would ever agree to that! But still, even though Licht always spent time in the stables alone, the thought of inviting others once in a while wasn’t too indigestible. Is this what it was like to share hobbies? Could this be how Licht could cure his—as Chevalier called it—seclusiveness? They could have been friends all along?

The moment seemed right. He decided to shoot his shot. “Yves has lots more ribbon. And lace, too. Maybe we could all make bows for Maron and White Horse someday?”

“Perhaps,” said Chevalier, all ten of his fingers now bound by bows. “Tell me, do you think White Horse is attractive?”

Or maybe they were never meant to be friends after all.

“Er—” Licht stumbled. “He’s a healthy and well-kept stallion. I could ask for nothing more from him.”

“Not to you. A female.”

“Uhm… You could probably ask Nokto to grab a maid’s opinion?”

Chevalier clenched his fists, crushing the tiny bows. “A female horse,” he hissed.

“Oh!” Licht accidentally pulled too hard on a knot. White Horse turned to him and snorted sharply, dousing his face in chewed-up carrot. Yes, that tranquil moment had definitely passed.

Licht quickly unbuttoned his coat and wiped his face with the hem of his shirt. The very next morning, that shirt would be burning in the back of his fireplace. 

“Is White Horse trying to impress a mare?” he asked in an attempt to salvage the conversation. 

“We only agreed I reveal my intention for the carrot theft,” said Chevalier.

“Political subterfuge,” Licht corrected.

“Shall I send you to dreamland instead?” said Chevalier.

“I’ll be sure to ask for the story in the morning then,” said Licht.

Chevalier leaned against the wall and began undoing the bows as he spoke. “Do not interrupt. It began on a trip west last fall. Clavis and I were inspecting numerous citadels along the border, and as luck would have it I received word that the newest volume of a series I was following was set to release the day before our scheduled return to the palace.”

Licht swapped his brush for a flat bristled one and started on White Horse’s neck as he listened. He recalled Chevalier’s trip very clearly. Clavis had made a point to leave behind a timed-trap in his absence. On the morning of the twins’ birthday, hundreds of colorful paper airplanes were released in the roundtable room, each bearing a handwritten message like: “Thinking of you from so far away!” and “Big brother will bring home a bigger gift, just you wait!” and “Say your prayers, Sariel!” Licht occasionally still felt the ghosts of those paper cuts stinging his skin.

Unfazed by Licht’s cringing expression, Chevalier continued. “Despite Clavis’s bemoaning protests, we managed to reach the final location of our tour and complete the inspection with time to spare, albeit at the sacrifice of several nights’ rest. Our fool of a brother was at his wit’s end, but aside from his sanity we arrived back in town with zero casualties. He agreed to retrieve the book before returning to the palace as an excuse to finally be out of my sight, so he broke off from our party as we rode up. And seeing as White Horse knows the way to the gates I saw no imminent danger requiring my remaining alert and allowed myself to rest my eyes.”

Licht tried to remember the exact day of their return and if anything remarkable occurred, but his mind kept coming up with blanks. (He wasn’t allowed to interrupt, but the narrator can. Chevalier said he fell asleep.)

Chevalier finished removing the yellow ribbon from his fingers and crumpled it in his fist. “While resting my eyes, I could still sense the passage of time, and after an appropriate amount of time until when I knew we should have reached the palace had passed I opened them again but found we were in an unfamiliar area I had never visited before. We were near the outskirts of town where the cattle graze. Seventeen houses in total, each unremarkable in size and structure, yet White Horse perched at the fence of the red brick house watching a jet black mare race across the yard. Never before had I seen him so fixated on one task, even when we are in battle. I called his name and pulled his reins but he completely ignored me. I was about alight from his back to admonish him when the woman of the household spotted us from her window, and she let out a piercing scream that would have woken the entire town had it been dark. It was enough to startle White Horse, at any rate. More than seeing you tonight.”

At this, Licht instantly remembered the day. Everyone at the palace heard the scream, and the subsequent chill emanating from Clavis’s smile when he suggested Licht join him to wait by the gates could only be bested by Chevalier’s cold stare. Never before nor since was Licht so grateful for it to be his turn to clean the domestic faction office than on that day. Maron remembered the day because it was the only time Chevalier returned wearing robes stained not in red, but brown. And Chevalier remembered the day because there did not yet exist enough scientific literature in Rhodolite on lobotomy.

Recounting is all well and good, but White Horse preferred matters tending to the future. And while he was used to his master and his soft-spoken brother’s tendencies towards silence, this silence stretching on in their conversation soon bored the stallion. When at last it became too much to bear, White Horse sucked in breath through his teeth, pressed his nose against Chevalier’s head, and released a mighty sneeze that nearly shook the princes off balance. From across the hall, Maron whinnied at White Horse in disapproval, and Licht quickly steadied himself then began patting the horse’s white neck. This served two purposes: calming White Horse’s fury, and giving Licht an excuse to turn away as Chevalier picked globules of horse mucus out of his hair.

It seemed acceptable for Licht to speak now. “So White Horse likes Verona?”

“Who?” Chevalier raked the last of the snot out with the blue ribbon and tossed it onto the remains of the ripped bag.

“The mare. That’s her name,” said Licht.

“Don’t be ridiculous, they have never once interacted for White Horse to develop any feelings of ‘liking’.”

“Fine. He fancies her.”

“Such a useless emotion. Enough of it to lose his head at the screams of her owner,” scoffed Chevalier.

“He’s alright though, isn’t he?” said Licht.

“Only because I had the sense to steady us in time,” said Chevalier. What he conveniently neglected to mention was how after steadying White Horse, the woman raced out of the house waving a broomstick in the air because she didn’t recognize the Second Prince and assumed he was there to horsenap Verona. Before Chevalier could diffuse the situation, White Horse jumped at her advance and fell backwards, landing both himself and his rider in a puddle of mud. Prince Clavis was the only person standing at the gates to witness their soiled return, and he keeps the memory fresh in his mind for days when he feels blue. But there was no reason for Licht to know about it, so Chevalier said, “I have upheld my end of the deal. Pass me a brush.”

“But you didn’t explain the carrots,” said Licht. 

“Do not ask for a story if you are too bleary-eyed to follow along,” said Chevalier. He swiped the brush out of Licht’s hand and began grooming White Horse’s other side. White Horse neighed softly and went back to staring longingly out of the window. 

Rays of false dawn shone from the horizon, layering the first brush stroke of saturation on town. Licht followed White Horse’s gaze out the window towards the pasty colors of the pasture in the distance, just as the signs of a red house came into view.

Perhaps it was the exhaustion truly catching up to him, but Licht didn’t notice Maron trotting up to him until he felt his warm muzzle pressed against the small of his back. Even without facing him, he knew what Maron wanted to say.

“Maron’s friends with Verona,” said Licht. “We visit the horses there every month for a stretch. We could introduce White Horse next time we go, if you want.”

Perhaps the exhaustion caught up to Chevalier as well, because the small part of him that planned to find Licht in the stables tonight tingled with vindication. “What do you require?” he asked.

“I don’t need anything,” said Licht.

“And I do not desire to remain in your debt. Name your price,” said Chevalier.

It is a curious state to find oneself able to demand anything from Prince Chevalier. I can think of several princes who would jump at the opportunity and ask from him all manner of favors. But Licht was a simple secluded sword master equine enthusiast who when asked what he wanted most in the world would probably reply with the most seemingly mundane thing. And yet, it would still make him smile.

“Help me get rid of this cough. That way I can help disrupt the carrot supply chain next time.”

I once wrote a fic in the past when I thought Maron was a mare. If anyone else mistakenly thought he was a lady horse because of that fic, I take full responsibility, that's my bad.

With this fic I tried out a new narrative style. It was out of my comfort zone, but a fun experiment. If anyone has any constructive feedback about it (positive or negative, I want to learn) feel free to leave a comment or an ask. Did it engage you more in the story, did it slow it down, did it make you laugh, did it bore you... whatever you feel like sharing :) Otherwise, thanks for reading.

[forabeatofadrum]

Ever After (7/21)

AO3 | S&C

--

CHALLENGE

Kurt and Blaine aren’t completely left to their own devices. No, they are traveling in a carriage with a couple of soldiers. The carriage is very plain and the soldiers are also dressed as ranchers and farmer to avoid suspicion.

They’re going east, through the woods. That’s where Kurt was found. Kurt spoke about an evil liar and they want to find it. There may be some clues here. There are no other leads that they can follow.

Blaine says goodbye to his parents and sends some birds to his friends, telling them that is out of Castle Town for an unforeseeable time.

The trip starts very uneventful. Kurt and Blaine are sat next together in the carriage and wait. Maybe Blaine should’ve brought something to read after all.

It’s Kurt who speaks first.

“Tell me about yourself,” Kurt says.

Blaine raises an eyebrow.

“Didn’t you already read all about me in your books?” he asks, although admitting that that’s a possibility makes Blaine uneasy. But if The Cooper Chronicles are real, then Kurt should know about Blaine. He knows the Pink Dagger’s name, after all, so Blaine’s existence shouldn’t be as shocking.

“You were born between the first two books,” Kurt says back, “After the king remarried. You were seven when the series ended and you were barely in it because you were at home at the Castle. Let’s just say that B.D. Dalton didn’t spend too much time on you.”

That stings a bit. Blaine knows he’s fine with being in Cooper’s shadow, but Kurt calling him almost insignificant is rude.

“My name is Blaine, as you know. I am twenty years old. I like alchemy and reading and watching Zooms with my friends. Uh. I don’t know what else there is to say.”

When Blaine puts it plainly like that, he does sound boring and insignificant.

Oh God, is Blaine insignificant because he was written that way? He’s never done anything interesting in his life. He just exists, doing mundane things! Is this all he’s ever meant to be?

Blaine pushes that thought away. He still as no reason to believe he was created by some man for a fictional book series.

But now this is gnawing at him.

“What is your Passion?” Kurt asks, “Everyone in Daltonia has one.”

“I am still figuring that out,” Blaine says earnestly. Then he has an idea. “What would your Passion be, if you were a Daltonian?”

“Tailoring,” Kurt answers immediately, “Like Silva.”

“How- Never mind.”

Blaine wants to ask how Kurt knows Silva’s name, since many do not know the royal tailor’s name, but Kurt would answer with The Cooper Chronicles.

“Are you a tailor in your world?” Blaine asks.

“Sort of. I am a fashion student at NYU,” Kurt answers and it once again means nothing to Blaine.

Kurt must’ve realised, so he starts explaining how education works in the kingdom of New York. (Or New kingdom of York? Blaine’s not sure.)

They chat about small things, both hovering around what is really going on, but it is also nice to talk to Kurt about stuff like his degree, his roommates, Blaine’s potions, Blaine’s friends, and what not.

Their little moment definitely get interrupted when the carriage starts shaking. It’s a challenge to hold on to anything and they can hear screaming from the outside. Blaine’s soldiers are in danger.

Blaine forces the door open, but it immediately gets slammed shut.

“Stay inside!” one of the soldiers order.

Kurt and Blaine hold on to each other as they hear a battle commence. Soldiers cry out, horses are neighing. The carriage is going full speed with Kurt and Blaine inside.

Until it comes to an abrupt halt.

Kurt and Blaine are sitting in silence. Blaine can feel his heart beating uncontrollably.

They wait for more orders, or any other sign, but it doesn’t come.

“I… I think… we need to go out,” Kurt suggests, although he sounds unsure.

Blaine nods.

Slowly they get out of the carriage and to their absolute shock, they’re alone. No soldiers. No horses. Kurt jumps out of the carriage to inspect.

“There’s… food. All our stuff is still here.”

“What happened?” Blaine asks, looking around for his men. He’s heard cries. They’re in pain, and Blaine has healing potions, but there’s no one in sight.

“I don’t know,” Kurt sounds stumped, “But we can continue our journey.”

“You want to continue?” Blaine asks, aghast. Blaine wants to go home immediately and see if everyone’s safe.

“Blaine. I have a bad feeling.”

“Same. Which is why we must go home.”

Kurt shakes his head.

“No. I mean. Isn’t it strange that we are unscathed, and our stuff is intact. It’s as if someone’s trying to separate us from your staff.”

“Which is not good!”

“I know,” Kurt holds up his hands. He sees that Blaine is stressed. “But I think that if we return, they will try to separate us again and again. Someone needs us.”

“You just want to go home!” Blaine argues, “But I need to check on my people! I am a Royal!”

“Okay,” Kurt relents, “But I will go on.”

And that renders Blaine speechless. He cannot let Kurt go on his own.

So he gives in. He helps Kurt pack their supplies and together they make their way deeper into the woods.

--

“Blaine! Look!”

Kurt’s pointing at something in the distance. They’ve been walking aimlessly throughout the woods, but it may have paid off.

“I think that’s the liar where they kept me.”

It does look like a stereotypically evil liar. It also looks extremely deserted.

Blaine has no combat training. He only has his Royal magic. He needs to be cautious, but Kurt immediately runs in.

“What in the world…” Blaine mutters. Kurt really is going into everything head-first.

They scope out the liar and it is indeed empty. Kurt is uneasy.

“This. This is it. This is definitely where they…”

“Hurt you?”

Kurt nods and he looks pained.

“You mentioned experiments, right?”

But Kurt walks away to explore more, without answering. Blaine gets it. Kurt must’ve experienced something that is difficult to think about, and the thought of that alone already makes Blaine shudder.

Blaine follows Kurt to the dungeons, where the cells are.

“Something is not right.”

“No kidding,” Blaine answers. A stereotypically evil looking liar in the woods? No one knew about this!

“No, I mean… Look!”

Kurt points towards the locks. They’re heavy.

“What is it?”

“I told you a guard left the door unlocked. But this place is so creepy, and vast. I… think they let me out by choice.”

“A good guard?” Blaine wonders.

But Kurt shakes his head.

“What if they wanted me to leave? What if they needed to see something.”

The two walk silently across the room. All cells are empty.

Except one.

On the floor lies a book with a colourful cover. A painting of a young, smiling boy, and three other kids is printed on it. The words ‘The Cooper Chronicles: The Seed of Time’ are written on above the picture, in a big, golden font.

“It’s the first book of The Cooper Chronicles,” Kurt says.

Oh, what did Blaine get himself into?

[artemistorm]

Stew Pot Plot pt 4

Alternate Whumptober prompt #9: Drugging -- Time, Everyone

TW -- drugging, unconsciousness

733 words

Read it here or on AO3!

******

Time brought the ocarina to his lips and played the Sonata of Awakening.

“THAT ONE’S AWAKE!” One of the Yiga yelled shrilly. “STOP HIM!”

As Time let the ocarina fall away from his lips and come to rest on his chest, the magic of the song swirled around the camp repeating and echoing in the wind, rousing the sleeping heroes.

“Uh oh, what’s going on? What kind of magic is that?!” The other Yiga exclaimed as all around them, the heroes stirred and opened their eyes.

Time himself felt his strength return in a wave and his mind cleared. He pushed himself up as the last of the tiredness vanished. He swiftly lit a lantern and illuminated the sleepy camp and the red-clad invaders.

“What’s going on?” Hyrule asked stretching.

“Who are you?” Wind asked the stranger in red backing away from the camp.

“That’s a Yiga!” Wild exclaimed, suddenly very alert. “Asssassins!”

“Everyone up on your feet!” Time ordered. Legend was on his feet firing off an arrow before Time even finished his sentence. One of the Yiga grunted and clutched at the arrow protruding from their shoulder.

“Abort! Abort! Mission abort!” The Yiga yelled.

“I told you this wouldn’t work!” The other shouted in reply and fired an arrow back at Legend. Warriors lifted his shield just in time to save Legend from getting skewered and the arrow thudded embedded into it.

Thunder rumbled louder and louder and had the heroes and Yiga alike looking up into the sky above and the dark cliffsides searching for whatever storm or landslide or earthquake was the source of the noise.

A fierce and angry neighing and the pounding of hooves startled the heroes and Yiga and Epona charged into the camp leading a herd of wild horses, galloped straight at the Yiga with righteous fury.

“You haven’t seen the last of us! We’ll get you, Hero!” The Yiga screamed and vanished into the cloud of kicked-up dust and stampeding horses. The horses continued to circle and stamp and make angry horse noises for another minute as the rest of the heroes got to their feet, weapons in hand, searching for the enemy looking confused.

“What just happened?” Sky asked when the dust and the horses settled.

“I found a packet of sleeping herbs in the stew: we were unknowingly drugged and the Yiga tried to capture us,” Time explained and motioned to the herd of horses that now encircled the camp. “I told Epona to go get help, and she did.”

“If we were drugged unconscious, how are we awake now?” Warriors asked.

“I played the Sonata of Awakening” Time said holding up his ocarina. “You can stand down now, the danger has passed.”

“That explains why I fell asleep in the middle of cooking last night,” Wild said. “I kept tasting the stew as I went along to make sure everything was cooking alright.”

“You must have tasted a LOT of it to get knocked out like you did,” Hyrule said.

“Uhh maybe??” Wild grinned sheepishly. “What? I was hungry.”

“I don’t feel sleepy anymore, not even a little bit,” Wind said. “Which is weird because I was suuuuper tired earlier and it’s still the middle of the night.”

“That’s a side effect of the song; no one is going to get any more sleep tonight,” Time admitted.

“Strangely, I’m not even upset about it,” Sky said. “I’m completely wide awake… you should play that song more often.”

“What do you guys think about leaving and heading on to the stable now?” Four asked.

“Thanks to Epona, we now have enough horses for all of us to ride,” Twilight said rubbing Epona’s nose and slipping her a little treat from his pocket.

“We can make it to Gerudo Canyon Stable in no time at all on horseback,” Wild said. “As long as you guys can tame the wild horses.”

“Shouldn’t be any trouble at all,” Twilight said, already trying to pet and befriend the blue spotted horse, much to Epona’s annoyance.

“Breakfast at the stable?” Wind suggested. “A biiig breakfast? I’m hungry again.”

“Again? Already?” Legend said.

“Yep, growth spurt for sure,” Warriors laughed.

“I’m just glad we didn’t get captured and no one got hurt,” Sky said. “Thank you, Time.”

“Don’t thank me, thank Epona,” Time said. “Shall we get ready to go?”

“Breakfast! Breakfast! Breakfast!” Wind chanted and everyone laughed.

The End.

[pompomqt]

Journey to the West Chapter 44

Pigsy flushing the three pure ones down the toilet:

I can see why Laozi wants nothing to do with their group lol.

We're back with yet another chapter of Journey to the West with @journeythroughjourneytothewest where our favorite monks get to encounter monks who are somehow even less fortunate then them. So let's get into it shall we?

So the gang has been traveling for a while without incident when they suddenly hear an ear piercing cry. Tripitaka is startled by the noise but not enough to fall off his horse thankfully. The gang makes their guesses on what the noise could be, with Sandy placing his bet on landslide, while Pigsy bets on thunder, and Tripitaka decides to stick with his guess of men shouting or horses neighing. They then send out Monkey to find out what the noise was to settle their bets.

So Monkey investigates and finds that Tripitaka is the winner of that little bet, it is indeed a bunch of men making the noise. More specifically a bunch of monks who are hauling building supplies up a cliff. At first Monkey just assumes they are working to repair a monastery or something and wasn't able to hire anyone however that theory goes out the window as soon as he see's two Daoist's approach. For as soon as the Daoist's approach the group of monks they start freaking out and pulling the cart even harder. When he see's this Monkey realizes that he's heard about this city before, a place where Daoism is revered and Bhuddism is harshly penalized.

Monkey decides to get a better picture of the situation before making his report to his manager, less Tripitaka call him incompetent. So monkey disguises himself as a Daoist in order to integrate himself with them. So Monkey introduces himself as a humble Daoist here to beg for some vegetarian food. The Daoist's cheerfully inform him that there is no need to beg for food here, since Daoism is revered by even the King in this nation, which is called the Cart Slow Kingdom. And with a little prompting from Monkey the Daoist's give us the whole kingdom's backstory.

The backstory in question is that twenty years ago there was a huge drout and although the kingdom came together to pray to the heavens for relief it was hopeless. However just as all hope was lost three immortal Daoist's stopped by who go by the names Tiger Strength Immortal, Deer Strength Immortal and Goat Strength Immortal. These three immortal's were able to summon rain for the kingdom. They also posses some other abilities like changing water into oil and changing stone into gold. The king was so impressed by them that he made all Daoists his royal kin.

Monkey asks if he would be able to meet these immortal master's of theirs and the Daoists say it would be no trouble at all, and they will gladly introduce him after they finish their business out here. This official business being a roll call of all the bhuddist monk slaves. So Monkey takes the opportunity to ask what that is all about and receives the second half of the Kingdom's backstory. Which basically just amounts to the Monk's failing to summon any rain, so when the Daoist immortals came and fixed everything instead, all the Monks in the city were enslaved, with the Monastery's being wrecked.

So Monkey turns on the waterworks and says how terrible it is, after all he came to this city hoping to find his long lost uncle who became a monk. The Daoist's are willing to let Monkey do the roll call for them to see if his uncle is one of the monk's they have, and if he is, they will let Monkey take him with him. Of course as soon as Monkey shows up in his Daoist disguise the Monk's freak out and say that they are all here and working hard. Which Monkey of course finds hilarious because he's a jerk, and in order to have some more fun with them he tells them he is actually here looking for his relative. Which of course has all the monks crowding around him hoping they are it.

Once Monkey is done laughing at all the poor monks expense he gets down to business and asks them for their side of the story. Which pretty much just aligns with what he already heard from the Daoist's. We also learn some new information though, such as they are currently building an abbey for the Three Pure Ones with the plan to make the king youthful for ten thousand years. We also learn that the monks can't just run away because the king has their pictures displayed everywhere and a large reward offered if they ever try.

When Monkey casually say's they could all just die as a solution, the monks say that a lot of them have died, there used to be two thousand of them, and they are the last five hundred left. However every time they try and kill themselves the heaven's interfere, which Monkey finds unreasonable of the heavens. Turns out the gods aren't all cruel though, since they have been giving these monks a ray of hope in the forms of dreams telling them they just have to wait for the arrival of the Tang Monk and his Disciple the Great Sage Equal to Heaven, who will relieve them all of their torment.

Luckily Monkey is easily flattered and doesn't mind that heaven is just throwing the responsibility of all these monks onto him. I swear heaven is just trying to turn Sun Wukong into their errand boy by having all these issues pile up and just waiting for Sun Wukong to stop by and fix it for them, but I digress. So Monkey goes back to the Daoist's and is all like 'well what do you know- they all happen to be my relatives, I come from a big family. Soooooo we'll just all be on our way now.' The Daoist's unsurprisingly kick up a fuss about this, they can't just free all their slaves! Just think of the paper work! So Monkey decides to spare them any trouble and just takes out his rod and kills the both of them.

The monks upon witnessing this start freaking out because they are totally going to be the ones blamed for this. Monkey tries to tell them it's fine since he's the Great Sage they've heard so much about. However the monks aren't going to fall for that one! After all they've heard from the Star of Venus that the Great Sage is a hideous and scary looking monster! Monkey is both annoyed and pleased by this description so he decides to have a bit of fun with them. He's all like 'You're right, I'm not him, I just work for the guy- and hey look behind you isn't that him?' And once they all turn to look he jump scares them by reverting to his original form.

Now that the Monks know he is the real Sun Wukong, they take to following him around like little ducklings. Which gets old pretty quickly for Monkey. So he gives them all some magical protection in the form of his hairs that will transform into a clone of him upon the monks calling for 'Great Sage, Equal to Heaven' so they'll all scram. And indeed most of them do take off with their new protection, to wait to hear from Monkey who'll tell them when he resolves the situation so he can get his hairs back. A few of them stick around to help out though, which is nice of them.

Meanwhile Tripitaka has gotten bored waiting for Monkey to come back and has apparently scrounged up enough courage to come looking for him. Well done Tripitaka, I'm so proud of you. Anyways Monkey finally takes the opportunity to brief Tripitaka on the situation. The monks who stuck around also lead them to the last remaining Monastery in the city, which hasn't been torn down because it was built by the command of the previous king and still has his image inside.

So while Monkey tries to decide how to handle this situation, they all have a meal together before heading off to bed. Monkey however is feeling rather restless, so when he hears the sound of a gong in the distance he decides to investigate. He finds that the noise was coming from the new Three Pure One's abbey that the monks told him about earlier, and finds that they are all currently in the middle of a big ceremony. And Monkey who has never seen a heavenly themed banquet he didn't want to crash, decides that how he went wrong last time, was that he party crashed alone.

So Monkey returns to the Monastery to wake up Pigsy and Sandy to have them party crash with him. Obviously they don't wake Tripitaka though, because Tripitaka is a bit of a narc. Anyways Sandy isn't to happy about being woken up at who knows what AM, but Pigsy is on board as soon as he hears there will be food. Anyways the three disciples sneak out like any self respecting teenagers would do and make their way to the abby. In order to enjoy themselves properly however the other party guests have got to go. So Monkey whips up a violent windstorm inside, which the Three Immortals decide to take as a sign that they should probably call it quits there for the night.

Now that everyone is gone, they can properly indulge themselves, at least that's what Pigsy thinks before Monkey tries to whack him for it. Monkey thinks that they should still be a bit cautious of getting caught, so he asks about the statues of the Three Pure Ones. Pigsy explains that the statues are of: The Celestial Worthy of Commencement, The Daoist Lord of Numinous Treasures, and our good old Laozi. Monkey suggests that they disguise themselves as these three pure ones in order to blend in. Pigsy has no problems with this and immediately shoves Laozi off his seat in order to take his spot for himself. Right as Pigsy begins to dig in once again, Monkey stops him and tells him to properly dispose of the statues. And luckily Monkey happens to know the perfect place, and tells Pigsy to send them into the door down the hall on the right.Once Pigsy finds carries all the statues to the door, only to find that said room is the bathroom. Pigsy has a good laugh about this, before throwing the three idols into the toilet and rejoins the others.

After that the three indulge themselves into eating the abby out of house and home. Apparently Monkey doesn't really care for cooked food though, so he just has some fruit and hangs out. Meanwhile a young Daoist returns to the banquet hall in order to pick up his hand bell that he had left behind, only to hear the sound of breathing. This frightens the kid, so he tries to scramble out of the hall, only to slip and fall which of course causes Pigsy to burst out laughing. This frightens the young Daoist even more, so he immediately goes to fetch the Three Immortal Masters. And with that we end this chapter.

Current Sun Wukong Stats: Names/Titles: Monkey, The Stone Monkey, The Handsome Monkey King, Sun Wukong (Monkey awakened to the void), Bimawen (Banhorseplague), The Great Sage Equal To Heaven and Pilgrim Sun. Immortality: 5 + 94,000 years Weapon: The Compliant Golden Hooped Rod Abilities: 72 Transformations, Cloud-Somersault, Ability to transform his individual hairs, super strength, Ability to Summon Wind, Water restriction charm, and the ability to change into a huge war form, ability to duplicate his staff, ability to immobilize others, the ability to put others to sleep, and the Fiery eyes and Diamond Pupils, intimidating horses, churning large bodies of water, sleeplessness, seizing the wind, enhanced smell, discerning good and evil within a thousand miles, Spirit Summoning, lock picking, object transformation, distance reduction and vanishing in a flash of light. Demon Kill Count: 9+ Unknown Number of Minions Human Kill Count: 1008 God's Defeated: 22 + Unknown number Defeats: 5 Crime List: Robbery, Murder, Mass Murder, Arson, Theft, Coercion, Threatening a Government Official, Resisting Arrest, Assault, Forgery, Employee Theft, False Imprisonment, Impersonating a Government Official, Treason, attempted murder, failure to control or report a dangerous fire, desecrating a corpse, breaking and entering, trespassing, violating Tree Law, looting corpses, trading counterfeit goods, criminal threat, animal abuse, Assisting or Instigating Escape and Damage to Religious Property Cry Count: 7 + 3 fake cries Mountains Trapped Under: 4

Current Tang Sanzang stats: Names/Titles: River Float, Xuanzang, Tang Sanzang, Tripitaka and the Tang Monk Abilities: Curing Blindness, making branches point a certain direction (allegedly), reciting sutras, pretty privilege, memorization and Heart Sutra. Cry Count: 21 Tight Fillet Spell Uses: 31 Paralyzed by fear: 5 Bandit Problems: 2 Kidnapped by demons: 6 Falling Off Horses: 8

Current Bai Long Ma Stats: Names/Titles: Bai Long Ma (White Dragon Horse), Prince of the Western Ocean, and third prince jade dragon of the dragon king Aorun Abilities: Transforming into a human, a water snake, and a horse, eating a horse in one bite, flight, Magic of Water Restriction, Singing, and Sword Dancing. Cry Count: 1 Crime List: Arson, and Grave Disobedience. Contributions to the plot: 2

Current Zhu Wuneng Stats: Names/Titles: The Marshal of the Heavenly Reeds, Zhu Wuneng (Pig who is aware of ability), Zhu Ganglie, Pigsy, Idiot and Eight Rules. Weapon: Rake Abilities: 36 Transformations, parting water, fighting underwater, cloud soaring, size enhancement and CPR Demon Kill Count/Kill steals: 2 Kidnapped by Demons: 3 Human Kill Count: 1 Failed Flirtation/romances Attempts: 3 Cry Count: 1 Crime List: Sexual Harassment, Murder, Kidnapping, arson, defamation and Damage to Religious Property

Current Sha Wujing Stats: Names/Titles: The Curtain-Raising General, Sha Wujing (Sand Aware of Purity), Sandy and Sha Monk Weapon: Monster Taming Staff Abilities: Fighting underwater and Cloud soaring. Demon Kill Count: Unknown number of minions. Kidnapped by Demons: 2 Human Kill Count: 1 Crime List: Breaking a Crystal Cup, murder, desecration of a human corpse, and Damage to Religious Property

Previous - Masterpost - Next

[captain-lessship]

Nemesis Pt. 1

a/n: So, just gonna tell you all: there is depiction of war time horror, if you all would like a version with out it, let me know and I will post an edited version. I added it cause I thought it would help build the circumstances for reader to become a vampire cause you know… bodies mean blood.

War is worse than hell.

That’s the only conclusion you could come to as you watched your men walk the field, looking for survivors that they could save.

Cannon holes in the ground, dropped guns, torn and tossed bodies.

You simply gazed out to the setting sun. You had won the battle. You knew you’d win the war, the south was being burned and destroyed. There was no way they would win so why were they so bound and determined to fight?

Had they turned and ran, you wouldn’t have gave your men the order to chase them down. You would have let them go and let sons return to their mothers and husbands return to their wives.

With a call to your men, you turned and began the walk back to camp where even more horror awaited you.

Screams from amputations rang out in the air. There simply wasn’t enough anesthesia for every man but that didn’t make it any easier to hear. You looked to your Corporal, “I think I need to lay down. Just for a moment.” You said weakly, continuing the walk to your tent.

You all but collapsed on your cot, thinking of how you so wanted the war to end. Soon the cool of night would come, you hoped for at least a few hours of hard and deep sleep.

You missed your family. They missed you. You knew deep down in your heart that you would make it back home but the waiting hurt your soul.

The camp grew quiet as if Lady Liberty herself was singing a lullaby and calming her people. You eventually stirred awake and decided a walk would help you fall back into a tired state.

The moon was full and bright in the dark blue sky as you walked just past the edge of the camp, sounds of snoring men, neighing horses and idle chatter of those that couldn’t sleep just barely hummed in your ears. You walked further, just to the edge of the tree line where a small creek was.

You bent down to scoop up some fresh water into your mouth, letting the coldness drip down your throat and letting the water alleviate the dryness of your mouth.

The moon glare shivered like a scared child on the waters surface as you continued to drink up the clear crystal mountain water. You did not see the figure that was approaching you.

“Hello.” A voice said.

You jerked your head to see a man. He was oddly dressed. He wasn’t wearing pajamas or a soldiers uniform; for either side.

You were about to open your mouth when it happened. The man lunged at you and sinking his teeth into you, landing the pronged teeth just above your collarbone. You screamed and tried to pull away from him.

It was a scuffle for a minute then you heard many other voice coming towards you, the pronged teethed man ran away, leaving you there.

You heard your heart beat racing in your head, thumping and shaking as you tried to wait for your men, who you knew were coming. They just didn’t make it in time.

Now you had all the time in the world, though it was a double edged sword, live for ever but never really live. Immortality meant moving all the time, not get to attached and never growing deep connections… except for one. A negative one.

Jasper Hale.

Another vampire. One you have scuffled and fought time and time again. From 1861 to now, you and him have been enemies.

Whether it was gunslinging in the Wild West, racing in the first motorcar, fighting outside a poll booth even though you both voted for Kennedy or playing in a Donkey Kong competition at an arcade, you could count on your rivalry.

Now, as you walked through the Washington forests, you were ready to possibly pick another fight.

Dressed up in your best blue jeans, cleanest white shirt and old brown leather jacket you stole off a mouthy boy back in ‘99, you walk into the town of Forks, Washington. Cloudy and cold. Perfect.

You only had the clothes on your back and the stuff in your duffle bag and carry-on sized suitcase. A couple of curious glances got caught on you.

You walked to the nearest little store that sold camping supplies, a bell chimes to announce your entry.

“Hello and Welcome!” A older man said from behind the counter. You grinned at him.

“Hey! I was wondering you could help me?”

“I sure hope I can.” He said, “Say, where are you from?”

You chuckled, “Oh I’m from the East. Coastal to be specific.” You gave a, answer you knew would be enough. It was enough for anyone.

“Alright, well, what do you need help with?”

“I am good friends with Doctor Cullen, do you know if he or one of his family members are home? I would guess the good doctor is at work but what about the rest of them?” You asked.

“Say, his wife was in here earlier. Vest shopping. I guess she’d be home. The live out on Red Trail. Very last house. Bet it’s a pain to get down from in the winter.”

You nodded, “Yeah but between his boys, the could shovel and salt it enough to get down if they really needed to. All of them are like ox, especially Emmett.” You turned around, “Thank you, sir. I guess I got a long walk ahead of me.”

“Stay safe out there. Real downpour about to start.”

The man was right. Rain came down in the bucket full as you walked up the gravel road, thinking about the look in his face when you showed up.

The glow of a light through the window of a huge and beautiful house caught your eye. This was it.

You stood outside and looked in, seeing if anyone was inside. There was. And they were coming to the door.

Blonde, tall and rather surprised. Amber eyes that shown with confusion looked up and down. Millions of memories flashed behind them.

Your own eyes scanned him up and down, raindrops getting caught on your eyelashes. Hair clung to your face as you smiled, “Long time no see.”

[aikoiya]

LoZ - Ordonian Folktales: The Tale of the Stáblad & the Tangled Capaill

This story is about a stableboy who had been stealing from his boss' stash of homebrewed booze & drinking on the job. (Ordona tends to have a pretty low drinking age. About 15 or so.)

In an attempt to hide this fact from his boss who was on the warpath searchin' for the culprit, the stableboy poured the moonshine into the horse's drinking trough without thinking.

The horse got so terribly drunk that he began to dance, but ended up getting his hooves all tied, resulting in him falling over & breaking his legs. Meaning that he would need to be killed in order to prevent him from suffering.

However, the horse had been the owner's prized stallion, which he'd been planning to enter into the Hateno Rodeo next week, but now that was impossible. The old man was furious & was determined to find the miscreant responsible.

Despite this, the stableboy was unapologetic, more concerned with keeping from getting caught than the unfortunate death of the rancher’s beloved horse.

That night, however, the stableboy was visited by Malanya, the Goddess of Horses, who lectured the young man & turned him into a horse to replace the one that his negligence had needlessly killed. The stableboy turned out to be quite blessed in being very fast.

So, despite only having a week to practice, he ended up winning the horse race at the Hateno Rodeo.

Yet, even then, he remained a horse. Several years passed by, the transformed horse winning many a rodeo event, but even still he sank deeper into despair due to isolation, until a new stableboy was hired, who, wouldn’t you know it, began to steal the rancher’s booze & drink it on the job, much like the transformed horse had.

He too found himself getting absolutely shitfaced on moonshine & much like the horse he’d replaced, the once stableboy began to dance, before tripping & breaking his own legs.

When it came time for the rancher to put the once stablehand down, the horse neighed loudly, “I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I filched the moonshine an' poured it into the drinkin' trough! I didn' mean to kill the horse, but I did & now I don' wanna die!” (Forgive my butchering of an Irish accent. I tend to see Ordon being an interesting mix of Irish & southern US country.)

Though the rancher did not understand, someone else did. And in that moment, the horse turned into a man… with a pair of broken legs.

All around were shocked & the man cried in jubilation before confessing his theft & mistreatment of the old horse.

The man was given several lashings, but he took it on the chin like a champ, knowing that it'd been a long time coming, & the once horse was never hired by any other ranch or farm in Ordon again.

Since then, Malanya has been one of the patron deities of Ordon alongside the Light Spirits.

---

What isn’t known is that this tale is true & that though the owner was upset, he allowed the once-horse man lodging at his home until he'd recovered, found a new job, & a new home (because you can't expect them to have just left the man's house empty). During that time, the horse-man managed to convince the new stableboy to confess his own crimes. The boy was allowed to stay on, but his pay was cut in half until he proved himself trustworthy.

Something else that isn't told in the tale, the once-horse man ended up opening The Tangled Capaill Tavern that still stands to this day. Capaill being the old Ordonian word for horseshoes.

He really buckled down & ended up using the money he earned from it to buy his old boss a new horse who ended up being an even better rodeo horse than the horse-man.

Something interesting he discovered after paying for a new horse, though, despite being returned to the form of a man, the once stableboy seemed to retain the speed he'd had as a horse. Perhaps a gift from Malanya as a reward for good behavior? After all, he hadn't needed to pay back his old boss nor swear to give him (but only him) free drinks at the horse-man's new tavern.

Malanya is especially well-known for blessing the ranch that Twilight works at. Which is where you find her bud in BotW. It's what's left of Ordon Ranch on the Surface.

Edit: Hello! :3 @skyloftian-nutcase made something on my folktale!

Here. Twilight Spins A Yarn

LoZ Cultural Masterlist 1

[fieldofdaisiies]

Ars Amatoria | ch. V

-all rights reserved-

Elucien AU word count: 2,7k words warnings: none

masterlist

“You will be fine.” The words are there, loud and clear. Elain hears them. But what can she do with them? Yes, maybe she will be fine…Fine. What a great word. Elain does not want to be fine. She wants to be happy. She wants to be free. She wants to live and smile and laugh. She wants to be in love. If she has to marry, she wants to marry a good man. A man she has chosen. A man that does not live miles away from her home.

But luck wasn’t on her side when this decision was made and now all she can do is try to adapt to the situation and give her new life a chance. Right now, Elain finds herself in the situation of bouncing and jumbling around in a carriage that rolls over stone-paved roads, that are flanked by footpaths. Hooking one finger around the curtain and pulling it back, Elain glimpses outside the window of the carriage, a soft breeze blowing her hair into her face. She brushes the strands away and regards the buildings they pass.

A tiny kernel of delight sparking in her chest, Elain has to admit that the city at least is beautiful. She only knows that they have arrived in Florence already because the carriage driver announced it a few minutes ago. And that means…that she is only minutes away from meeting her future husband…

As she looks outside, her eyes focused solely on the huge and bright buildings, Elain finds herself wondering if it will ever be possible to call this place home. Eventually, she will have to do so, but she ponders if it will ever feel like home. If deep inside her heart she can call this place home and it will feel alright calling it that. 

A warm hand clasps hers, holding it tightly. “I wish I could have protected you from this,” Nesta mumbles, but her voice gets drowned out when the carriage rolls over the uneven road and they jumble around. The horses neigh outside and the carriage driver barks some orders to them.

For a moment Elain just listens to the clip-clop sound that is produced by the horses feet, figuring that it calms her a little. She breathes in and turns her head a little and looks at her sister. “Please, don’t blame yourself. This is not on you, there is nothing you could have done, Nesta.”

Elain forces a smile, that definitely does not reach her eyes, onto her lips and squeezes her sister’s hand in return. “You had to face the same fate and now look at how happy you are with Cassian Bianchi.” Her smile turns more honest, knowing how much Nesta loves her husband and how much he loves her. And maybe, just maybe, the same happiness is waiting for Elain?

She knows that this is wishful thinking. Lucien Vanserra, just like his brother, is probably solely focused on the benefit of the bank and does not care a single tiny little bit about her. He is in this marriage to keep the bank alive and to have trading allies. That is it. But still she can hope a little bit. Maybe she can a least, instead of the love of her life, find friends here. Lucien’s brother must have a wife, maybe they can befriend each other?

Elain shifts on the bench in the carriage, her butt aching a little from having sat in the same spot for such a dreadfully long time. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want. You understand that, Elain?”

“I know.” Her lips are clamped shut, colour filling her cheeks. She has always found it a little uncomfortable to talk about…intercourse. And now Nesta, who has always been more open towards this subject, addresses it so freely in the carriage. Which is totally alright, but Elain is just not in the mood to talk about this yet. She does not want to think about sleeping with Lucien when the only man she ever wanted to go this step with was Graysen. Graysen…

“He is just a man, he might have certain desires. But as long as you don’t feel comfortable with it, you don’t do anything, you don’t want. You will tell him no, and if he does not accept it, you will punch him. In his very private and vital parts.” Nesta gives her sister’s hand another reassuring squeeze, determination etched into her features. Elain’s only answer is, “I know. I won’t.” 

She has been thinking about this issue a lot. When he is her husband, he will most likely expect them to have heirs. And that is only possible through one way. And it is not like Elain does not want to experience intimacy. It is just that…she is nervous. She knows that she is not as tall and slender as her sisters or most of the other beautiful Venetian women, that her belly is a little chubbier, her butt a little rounder. What if he does not find her attractive? Which could very possibly happen. He does not want to marry her, so why should he find her attractive then…

Elain shakes her head, hoping to shake away these idiotic thoughts. She does not want to think about something that might never be. She has to concentrate now, focus on what matters right in this moment, and this is meeting her husband for the very first time. As they pass a market place, Elain’s gaze returns to the outside world. She glances at the bustling mass of people crowding around the different stalls filled with all sorts of goods. She can’t really make out the people’s emotions — some look hurried, some happy, some desperate. Maybe it is just a colourful mix of all things that you can find in this city?

A combination of freshly baked bread, roasted meat, and the smoke from small woodfires lies in the air and she inhales deeply. It smells very different to Venice where you could always scent the sea, the salt, the fish, old ropes and fishing nets. It does not bother her. She misses the smell of Venice, of her home town, of course. But then she never really liked the scent of freshly caught fish, nor the one of older fish and ancient fishing nets and ropes.

The carriage slows a little as they turn around a corner and head towards a huge, cream-coloured building. It has so many windows and looks so bright, Elain thinks as she gazes at the house with big eyes. She is so focused on the palace-like building that she does not even realise that the carriage has come to a halt. 

“Madonna Archeron, Madonna Bianchi, we have arrived. Il Palazzo Vanserra.”

Oh God! Elain’s heart speeds up in this moment, frantically hammering against her rib cage. She wipes her suddenly clammy hands down her thighs and inhales a sharp breath.

So this is really going to happen. She is going to meet her future husband now. The door of the carriage opens, and although the sun is brightly shining in the sky, it is still a little cool outside on this early spring morning.

Elain carefully takes the carriage driver’s hand as he helps her step outside, Nesta follows right after and now the two young women stand in front of the huge building. But they don’t have to wait long, the doors, these beautiful stone doors, open and out steps a stunning, elder woman with a bright smile on her face.

“There you are!” she greets and takes a few, large steps towards the two women standing in the middle of the street. “Elain,” she says, bows her head and then hugs the young woman. “It is a pleasure to finally meet you and welcome you in our family. I am Lucrezia Vanserra. You are going to wed my youngest son.”

Her warm welcome gives Elain some sort of comfort — at least she would have one person here who is kind and caring. The woman, Lucrezia, greets Nesta in a similar way before showing them to the door, and letting them enter. “From now on, my dear Elain, you will be living here,” she explains as she leads them into the house. 

Elain swallows thickly and nods at her with a small, awkward smile on her face. She doesn’t have enough time to take everything in — the high ceilings, the bright interior, the beautiful stone columns, the walls that are decorated and painted, and the whole lot of natural light inside due to the many windows. 

Elain is fidgeting with the fabric of her dress, her breathing coming quickly as nervousness takes root inside of him. Nervousness coils in her stomach and fully on their own accord, her feet slow on the ground until she stops completely. “I think I need a moment,” breathes Elain and braces her hands on her thighs to lean forward a little, her head feels dizzy, a slight buzzing in her ears.

Nesta comes up to her, places an assuring hand on her back and leans down to her. “Don’t worry, Elain. You got this. You are so strong. I know you can do this.” 

Lucrezia stops as well and returns to the two woman standing in the middle of the corridor. “I know this is not easy. Something like this is never easy. I know this, I am speaking from experience. But my son is a good man and he will treat you right. I have no doubt about that.”

A warm, empathetic smile spreads over the woman’s face as her eyes meet Elain’s. Elain nodds, and slowly straightens her back. 

“I am not afraid of your son—“ Lucrezia chuckles loudly, interrupting Elain, and it soothes some of the tension in Elain — the sound is so rich and pure and she wonders if she one day can laugh in the exact same way. “I never thought you were afraid of my son. But I understand your worries towards the marriage. It all seems so rushed, so forced, you had no time to properly meet in the first place.”

“Yes, that is it,” Elain answers in a little shaky voice. Lucrezia has hit the nail on the head — this is exactly it. Everything feels so rushed. Elain has not had enough time, the pressure is almost suffocating her as she is being rushed through her life.

A relationship and marriage should not be rushed, but apparently hers is. “Let’s meet them when you are ready. We can wait for a little longer.”

✢ ✢ ✢

He is late and he knows it. And he also knows that he is late again. But it is all Tamlin Pazzi's fault. He has stopped him in the streets while he was on his way back to the palazzo, has told him some things Lucien does not even remember now and wasted his time. Now he is late for the meeting with his future wife. Which is brilliant.

Not at all, actually. Lucien feels shame bloom in his chest as he once again finds himself running through his family home, speeding. His half-unbuttoned shirt is fluttering in the breeze that blows around him from running so quickly, his steps echoing off the walls. He heads for the big stone door leading into the family dining room where he guesses they are waiting for him and without knocking pushes the doors open.

Lucien Vanserra’s grand entrance — four pairs of eyes land on him in this moment, the people present watching him with all sorts of emotions on their face.

Eris claps his hands as he stands up, “Finally the groom has arrived.” And although Eris forces a smile to his lips, Lucien can see the anger and disappointment underneath the surface. The fury is there, and burns like a wicked fire in the older Vanserra brother's eyes. Eris has begged Lucien to at least be on time one time, but what should Lucien have done when Tamlin Pazzi crossed his path?

Lucien meets his brother’s gaze, his jaw clenched. “I deeply apologise for being late, I got hold up.” He saunters into the room, his eyes searching for…

Good God!

Jurian had perfectly captured her beauty in the painting. She was beautiful, stunning, on the painting, but in real life she is breathtaking. Standing a little behind another, taller woman, his future wife is bouncing on her toes, fussing with the fabric of her skirt.

The corner of Lucien’s mouth tips up as he regards her and for a moment he forgets how to breathe. This…this stunning woman is truly going to be his wife? She definitely makes hit hard for him to tear his gaze away and so he just keeps looking at her, his mouth opening a little. 

And Elain…Her whole life whooshes out of her with her first glance at Lucien Vanserra. God! She has never seen a man like him. She has never seen such beauty. She swallows excessively as her traitorous eyes go on a little exploration and momentarily dip to his very exposed chest, the sculpted muscles of his torso, the soft, tanned skin. When her eyes ascend again, the meet Lucien’s, nothing but delight and some other emotion sparkling in them. 

“You are my wife,” Lucien breathes with a small smile on his lips. Elain feels a flush creep across her cheeks and even her ears turn warm. She parts her dry lips, trying to find the right words, but her older sister beats her to it.

“Not yet,” she says matter-of-factly and it draws a small chuckle from Eris Vanserra. Elain has already met him and they have talked very briefly. He informed her a little about the bank and the Pazzi family and showed her around in the family room. There is a lot to see here, the big book shelves, the lush couches and arm chairs, the big family dining table. 

Lucien chuckles as well, clears his throat and finally walks up to the two sisters who simultaneously rise from their chairs. “My apologies again. My soon-to-be wife. You are Nesta Archeron, I assume? Pleasure to meet you as well.” Lucien bows at the waist and then extends his hand towards Elain.

She hesitates, her heart beating in her throat as she looks up at Lucien. He is so much taller than her, his chest and shoulders so broad, but he is nothing but stunning, cruel beauty. That sort of beauty that robs her breath and once again turns her palms sweaty. She reaches her trembling hand forward until Lucien’s big hand closes over hers, his warm palm touching hers and they shake hands.

He smiles but says nothing more. His mind is too full with thoughts as his eyes stay locked with hers. She is perfect and she is…way too good for him. He can never give her the happiness she deserves because he is not a good man, not the sort of good man she deserves.

Lucien turns to Nesta then, shakes her hand as well and then claims the seat next to his older brother so they can discuss all the formalities. Elain still fidgets with her dress as she listens to the brothers talk, her gaze ping-ponging between them and Nesta when her sister adds something to the conversation. Elain mostly stays calm during the whole discussion about money and the money she brings into the family and only God knows what. 

“Good, then this is settled.” Eris puts his signature at the bottom of a piece of parchment and shoves it away. “Anything else?” He lifts his gaze and looks at Elain with nothing but warmth in his eyes. 

“When will we wed exactly?” she asks after inhaling deeply. Her gaze moves from Eris to Lucien who is already looking at her, and then back to Eris. 

“This evening. Preparations will start in around two hours, until then you can settle in. The wedding will take place this evening, Father Helion will be here at six.”

~~~~~~~~~ taglist AA: @octobers-veryown @velidewrites @areyoudreaminof @acourtofthought @liftyourhipsformelovex @hallway5 @stickyelectrons @honeysuckle-daydreams13 @bibliophiliaxvignette @thelovelymadone @sunshinebingo @arabellatheauthor @autumndreaming7 @nestas-workwife @rarephloxes @tuzna-pesma-snova general el. taglist: @rippahwrites @shadowhunter2003 @my-inner-crisis @ladyelain @acourtofthought @itwasalwaysaboutthetea @multifictional @moonlightazriel @aayo-whatt @brekkershadowsinger @sunshinebingo @gracie-rosee

for @elucienweekofficial 💛

[the-broken-truth]

Hey I was wondering whenever you have time if you can do a yandere Artemis x female archeologist who was on a trip to go Greece to go discover old Greek artifacts when she crashed landed on themascriya and Artemis finds her and at first she's mean discipline and distance and later takes a liking to her. And so she keeps a prisoner until a ship for her to be fixed but Artemis has taken a liking to her and so the reader tries to escape but runs into Artemis and Artemis make sure she doesn't leave by locking her up in a celler in Chains

Broken Truth (Reads the ask and raises an eyebrow): Why does this ask seem familiar? Doesn't matter, let the words weave together!

[Name] [Surname] was a young archeologist that specialized in Greek Ruins, she was of Greek Origin, fluent in the language, and lived in Greece for most of her life until he went to the United States for more opportunities in her field. One day, she got a call from the Chief Archeologist in her crew that they would be heading to her homeland to investigate some ruins that came up when people were breaking the ground and none of the were familiar with the writing or any of the relics that were found. [Name] was excited to return to her homeland after so much time away but something about this dig made her wonder - what were Ancient Ruins doing under the ground and how far did these people dig to find them?

[Name] arrived in Greece about one week later after she got the call from her boss and the time arrived at the ruin site about 5 hours after getting off the plane. [Name's] eyes widened at the sight of the ancient lands before her, buildings, streets, and vendor stands standing far as the eye could see but they have all withered away and looked like they would break apart if she so much as touched them. She got her orders, to go to the main temple and look for any artifacts but be careful with bringing them back to the campsite. She walked into the temple - her steps echoing through the empty halls - and something shiny caught her eye: A single blue gemstone embedded in the wall with writing around it. She took out her dusting brush and removed the dust to make the writing easier to read, however, it was in a language she wasn't able to understand but here was a phrase on the stone she was able to understand.

"Those who are worthy will find riches and glory on the island of Themyscira?" [Name] read out loud - that would prove to be her first mistake for the stone started glowing and blinded her before a doorway opened before [Name] and the winds sucked her into the portal before closing once she was in.

[Name] groaned as she blinked but quickly closed her eyes when direct sunlight hit her eyes; she blinked again to adjust her eyesight to the sudden sunlight before she was able to open her eyes and keep them open. She moved her hand - feeling something soft but firm under her - something like soil or sand as she pushed herself off the ground and looked around - she was on a beach before her was a massive ocean, waves crashing against the surface of the side, just barely touching her feet as she rose to her feet.

'Where am I? This doesn't look like Greece or the Dig Site. What is this place?' [Name] questioned herself as she looked around and began walking along the beachfront. That's when the sound of horse neighing and hooves hitting the sand caught her attention; looking in the direction of the sound, she saw 4 women dressed in ancient armor riding on the backs of horses with swords drawn in their hands. [Name] looked wide-eyed at the woman riding in her direction and tried to turn to run away but something wrapped around her legs, causing her to fall face-first into the sand once again. [Name] grunted as she picked her upper body out of the sand and looked up, just in time to see the tip of a sword point in her face and a rather beautiful woman on the other side of the sword holding the handle.

"Who are you? Why do you trespass here on the Island of Themyscira?" The long-haired woman asked her with a glare in her olive eyes and her lightly tanned skin. "Answer me, Outsider. Who are you and how did you get here?"

"My name is [Name] and I'm not entirely sure how I got here. I was in Greece, exploring a dig site when I found some strange blue stone with strange writing on it. I read the writing and a portal opened up and sucked me in. I woke up here a little while ago. I didn't mean to trespass on your island, I swear this." [Name] said as she looked into the woman's olive eyes with her own [Eye Color] eyes. The woman glared at [Name] before sheathing her sword and looking at the other woman on the horses.

"Sisters, return to the temple and prepare the cell. I shall bring this time to Queen Hippolyta." The Orange-Haired Woman said as she lifted [Name] off the ground and slung her over her shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

"Yes, Artemis." One of the women said before the three of them turned their horses around and rode back in the direction they came from.

"Artemis? Like the Goddess of the Moon and Hunt?" [Name] asked as she looked in Artemis' direction, making the Amazon raise her eyebrow.

"You are familiar with me?" Artemis asked.

"Yes. Well, familiar with your legend. It's an honor to meet you, Lady Artemis." [Name] said as she smiled at Artemis, who glared at her.

"Be silent." Artemis placed [Name] on the back of her horse before mounting it again and taking off in the direction of the Amazon Temple.

[About 3 Months Later]

[Name] turned the wrench on the engine of the boat before stepping back and wiping the sweat off her forehead with a smile - that was the last adjustment - the boat was seaworthy now and ready to be filled with gas and set sail.

Oh?

How did [Name] get a boat?

Well, allow me to explain.

When Artemis brought [Name] before the Amazon Queen - Hippolyta - and explained her story, the queen took pity on the lost soul and told her there was a way to leave Themyscira - fix a boat and be on her way, but until the boat was repaired, Artemis was going to have to watch over her. It had been 3 Months since [Name] started working on the boat, she patched any holes, fixed the navigation system, and salvaged enough fuel from the other vessels to get a full tank of gas. She was ready to leave Themyscira and she was going to leave tonight.

"[Name], are you done in there? It's almost time for dinner." Artemis said from her place on the beach with her arms folded and a smirk on her face. [Name] poked her head from the Engine Compartment and got out of the lower level before looking at the setting sun and lightly chuckled when she noticed how late it was.

"Sorry, Lady Artemis. I didn't know that it was so late." [Name] said as she jumped off the anchored boat and walked over to Artemis. The two of them began walking back to the Amazon City with Artemis constantly looking at [Name] with a small smirk on her face - [Name] was dressed in Amazon Clothing with a dagger at her side and she looked like she belonged with them… With Artemis.

"Lady Artemis, are you alright?" [Name] asked.

"I'm fine. Tell me, [Name], have you ever thought about my offer?" Artemis asked her.

"You mean…" [Name] started.

"Yes - staying here in Themyscira. You have already fit in with your new sisters and everyone loves having you here. Why go back to the World of Man, where people don't respect you?" Artemis asked, looking at you with a dangerous gleam in her eye.

"Lady Artemis, I have a family in the World of Man; people I love and respect. I am not an Amazon. I was not born an Amazon." [Name] said but Artemis shook her head.

"Just because you weren't born an Amazon doesn't mean you can't become an Amazon. You have lived here for three months, I have seen how you interact with the others, you hunt well like one of my huntresses, you can fit in here. Stay with us." Artemis said as she looked [Name] in the eyes but [Name] looked at Artemis and shook her head before going into the meal hall. Artemis stood there and narrowed her eyes before walking in herself.

Something was going to change tonight.

It was midnight - [Name] packed her bags from her room & the gold that Queen Hippolyta gifted her with and placed it all in her backpack. She walked out of her room, down the hall, out of the sleeping quarters, out of the temple, and to the beach to reach her docked boat but when she reached it, her jaw dropped and her eyes widened - the boat was DESTROYED!

Holes in the Haul.

Gas leaking in the ocean.

The Navigation System yanked out.

Everything [Name] worked so hard on was destroyed but how did this happen?! Everything was perfect before she went to bed. Someone did this!

"[Name]? What are you doing out here?" The voice of Artemis called behind her, causing [Name] to look at the Goddess of the Moon and Hunt.

"Someone destroyed my boat! I was going to leave tonight but now I am stuck here! Damnit!" [Name] roared as she threw the boat keys into the sand in anger. Artemis just looked at her back before smiling.

"Maybe someone didn't want you to leave. Maybe someone thought you belonged here, with them." Artemis said as she placed a hand on [Name's] shoulder, making the woman widen her eyes before knocking Artemis' arm away from her and taking a few steps back.

"It was you… YOU DESTROYED MY BOAT AND LEFT ME STRANDED HERE! ARTEMIS, WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?! I TOLD YOU THAT I AM NOT AN AMAZON AND I DON'T BELONG HERE! CERTAINLY NOT WITH YOU! I'M TALKING TO QUEEN HIPPOLYTA ABOUT THIS!!!" [Name] barked as she started walking around Artemis when the goddess grabbed her by the arm and yanked her back before socking her in the face, knocking her out.

"You are mine and I will not let you leave me again, My Love. We are going to stay on Themyscira forever and there is nothing you can do about it." Artemis said as she gathered the unconscious woman in her grasp and walked to the lone temple in the forest, where a fresh bed…and chains were waiting for her prisoner of love.

[enchantedchocolatebars]

🐴 Horsey Commander 🐴 (A short fic based on this fanart by artist @kaadaart)

Philip came up to his big brother, who was carving flatware at the kitchen table, with a gleam in his eyes and a grin on his lips.

"Oh, Caleb! Let's play a game!" Pip happily declared, clenching both his fists in anticipation.

"A game, huh?" Setting his carving knife down, Caleb looked to his little brother with a smile. "Okay then! I'll go get my hat and--"

"No, no, no, not witch hunters," Philip told him, shaking his head. "A different game!"

...

Outside, both boys were facing the front entrance of the woods as Philip sat on Caleb's shoulders with his sword in hand.

"It's called Horsey Commander!" Philip exclaims in excitement.

"Horsey Commander?" Caleb questioned. "I've never heard of such a game before."

"That's because I made it up!" The younger admits with a bright smile.

"I see," The blonde chuckles. "How do you play?"

"It's easy! You're my horsey, I'm the commander, and you have to do as I say!" Pip explains, directing his wooden sword towards the entrance of the woods.

"Now let's go, horsey! Your commander commands it!" He orders.

"Yes, sir, commander sir!" Caleb responds to his "commander" with a chuckle as he dashes into the woods.

"Incoming rock!" Philip informs, pointing his sword to the small stone on the ground. "Jump over it, horsey!"

Uttering a neigh, Caleb jumps over the stone as he continues to run.

"Yay! Good job, horsey! Now jump over that bug!" Caleb leapt over a tiny black beetle that was crawling on its small legs.

"Ooo, now that worm! Jump over the worm!" Caleb hops over a worm wriggling in the dirt.

Amazed, Philip gives his "horse" a compliment. "Wow, you're a really good at this, horsey!"

As they continue, Caleb stops immediately when he and Philip reach a small cliff.

The other side is rather distant.

"What are you waiting for? Go on, horsey! Jump! Do a super jump!" Philip innocently eggs his brother on.

"Uh..." The teen tries to think up a safer solution. He spots a nearby leaf on the ground. "How about we jump over this leaf instead?" Caleb suggests, stepping over the leaf.

A small smile spreads on Pip's face. "That was fun... NOW GO FIND MORE THINGS TO JUMP OVER!" He eagerly shouts in his cute commander voice.

And thus, Caleb does just that, all while avoiding steep cliffs of course.

...

"Horsey, you look really tired," Philip notes, noticing Caleb's exhausted expression and plodding steps. "Your commander commands you to take us back home so I can get you a glass of water."

Caleb smiles tiredly. "Yes, sir, commander sir," He breaths out, trudging back home.

[maree-go-round]

Under the Heng Gate - Chapter 46

Chapter 46 : His throat tightened as he addressed her in a low voice, “Master?”

In the dead of night, before the break of dawn, a young monk opened the gate of the mountain temple early.

In the dim light, Xinlu and Qiushuang, both dressed as men in round-collared robes, walked out one after the other.

Two squads of soldiers were dressed in plain clothes, patrolled outside the temple in shifts day and night. 

As they saw the two women leave, they paid no mind, for everyone knew these were the two maidservants of the madam. The temple was poor, and it was not uncommon for them to go out for supplies. The soldiers were accustomed to it.

Xinlu and Qiushuang left just like that.

In less than half an hour, the two maidservants returned.

The sky was still dark.

The young monk opened the gate once again, and they entered the temple with their heads lowered.

They walked quietly towards the meditation room, careful not to disturb anyone. They didn't even turn on the lights as Xinlu called out softly in the dark, "Master."

The one who returned with her was Qichi.

Knowing that Fu Ting had arranged guards around the temple, she had carefully chosen the time, instructing Xinlu and Qiushuang to pick her up. Qiushuang had to stay outside the temple for the time being, waiting to enter the next day when worshippers came, so as not to draw attention.

As Qichi removed her round-collared robe, she asked, "How is the temple?"

Xinlu answered in a low voice, "As you expected, the Grand Protector has not yet returned. Everything else is as usual, and no one knows that you left the temple. They all believe you went to bed early."

Qichi nodded.

Xinlu took advantage of the faint light from the sky and went to the basin rack to wring a wet cloth. She walked over and handed it to Qichi, whispering, "You must be utterly exhausted after tonight. You should freshen up and rest for a while."

Qichi was indeed tired. Dealing with Fu Ting was no easy task; it was like walking on thin ice.

With her robe half-open, she took the cloth and carefully wiped her face.

There was the faint sound of a horse neighing outside. It was impossible to tell where it came from, but in the moment of silence, it echoed clearly.

Qichi handed the cloth back to Xinlu, who took it along with her round-collared robe. "You should leave quickly."

She worried that Fu Ting might have already returned.

Xinlu, holding the robe, hurried out and closed the door behind her.

Qichi lay down on her bed, unable to resist replaying the questions Fu Ting had asked her earlier.

In truth, she had answered honestly.

At the age of fifteen, in order to help her brother repay the tribute owed to the court, she had been forced into the world of business, engaging in anything that promised profit, which eventually led to the numerous ventures she now controlled.

Now that she thought about it, she should have answered more in line with the fabricated identity.

But for some reason, the words she had written down were almost entirely the truth.

Suddenly, a flash of light outside was followed by a deafening crash that startled her back to her senses. She sat straight up.

Footsteps approached from outside, and then the door was pushed open.

She remained seated, watching the tall figure that entered.

"Did it wake you?" Fu Ting’s voice broke the silence.

He had just walked outside the door when he heard a faint sound in the room and decided to come in.

Qichi didn’t answer. Instead, she asked, "Was that thunder just now?"

"Yes." He walked over to the bed. "Why wasn’t the door locked?"

She replied softly, "Even if it were, you would still get in."

There seemed to be a hint of amusement in his voice. "Yeah."

Another sudden crash of thunder echoed, making Qichi’s ears buzzing. She couldn’t help but say, "How can it be so loud?"

"The northern climate is like this." Fu Ting sat on the edge of the bed. "You’re not afraid of thunder, are you?"

"Of course not," Qichi replied as she lay back down. "I’ll remember that from now on."

"The North differs from the Central Plains in many ways." He said, "You’ll learn them all in time."

"Hmm?" Qichi didn’t hear him clearly over the sound of the thunder and glanced up at his face.

The sky outside had only just begun to lighten, and against the light, she couldn't clearly see his expression.

Her fingers brushed against the edge of the bed and touched something. She felt it and realized it was his fingers. Then he grasped her hand.

Fu Ting held her hand and suddenly leaned down, pressing close to her.

Qichi could feel his face near, and for no reason, she thought of the time he had kissed her and was left speechless.

His face was close to her neck, his breath brushing against her skin, making it itch slightly. Suddenly, he asked, "Why do you smell of medicine?"

Startled, she placed a hand on his shoulder, raised her body and touched her nose to his neck. "It seems to be coming from you. Where have you been?"

Fu Ting felt her nose brush his neck and instinctively touched it, his head lowering further.

In the distance, the sound of monks chanting Buddha’s names could be heard as they began their early morning chores.

In fact, the smell was very faint, and it was hard to tell whose it was. It was likely something he had brought back from the medical clinic.

He looked at her dimly lit face and said, "I haven’t been anywhere."

His hand was still holding hers, and her hand was still resting on his shoulder.

After a moment, Qichi gently pulled her hand away. "You should leave before the monks notice you’re in my room."

He pursed his lips and let go of her hand with a smile. "The thunder has passed. Go back to sleep."

With that, he stood up and walked out, closing the door behind him. His figure was briefly illuminated by the morning light, and she noticed that he hadn’t even removed the saber from his waist.

Qichi watched him leave, then lay back down and closed her eyes.

Her heart was beating a little fast, either from his actions or the worries weighing on her mind.

She thought, If only it could all pass just like this.

　　　　　　　　　　　　　※

She slept deeply, not waking until past noon.

It was Xinlu who woke her up specially because she thought she should eat.

Qichi got up, changed her clothes, and carefully arranged her hair and makeup, as if it were just another day.

As she sat at the small table to eat her vegetarian meal, she thought of Fu Ting. While holding her chopsticks, she glanced toward the room next door. "Is he still resting?"

Xinlu replied, "The Grand Protector left again shortly after dawn."

Qichi furrowed her brow, thinking how he had returned so late, only to leave again so quickly. He hadn’t rested for long at all.

Could it be because of her merchant house again?

Standing by the door, Xinlu cast a glance outside. "It’s strange, several groups of worshippers have come and gone, yet Qiushuang hasn’t returned."

Qichi also looked outside.

Just then, Qiushuang walked from outside.

Xinlu couldn’t help but scold, "Why are you back so late?"

Wiping the sweat from her forehead with her sleeve, Qiushuang didn’t bother to talk to Xinlu. She rushed over to Qichi and said urgently, "Master, something has happened."

Hearing the words "something has happened", Qichi’s expression immediately grew serious. "What is it?"

Qiushuang exchanged a glance with Xinlu, signaling her to close the door first. Then, kneeling beside Qichi, she whispered in her ear:

“The Protectorate has suddenly issued an order that all merchants with fish-shaped plaques, both inside and outside Hanhai Commandery, must leave the northern lands immediately. Once the caravans of these businesses return, they are required to hand over their exit permits to the Protectorate."

"What?" Qichi was in disbelief.

In all her years of business, she had never encountered anything like this.

Qiushuang said anxiously, "I managed to find an excuse to ask General Luo secretly. He said the order came directly from the Grand Protector himself, but even he doesn’t know the exact reason. Or if he does, he isn’t saying. That’s all I could find out."

Xinlu, unable to remain silent, knelt beside Qichi as well. Her voice was full of concern. "Master, if this is true, won’t all your businesses in the northern lands be ruined?"

Qichi was silent for a moment before asking, "What about the shopkeepers?"

Qiushuang responded, "I was just about to report this matter to you. The military led the troops to give orders, and none of the shopkeepers dared to argue and could only pack up and leave. No one knows where to go, and they’re all asking for your guidance."

Qichi frowned. "It’s not convenient for me to appear in public right now."

"Exactly," Qiushuang agreed, helpless.

She couldn’t take her master’s place either. The shopkeepers were all Qichi’s trusted confidants, just as loyal to her as they were to Qiushuang. While Qiushuang could relay messages, she couldn’t issue orders without the green fish-shaped jade token held by her master herself.

Besides, this situation was too complicated for her to handle on her own.

Lowering her eyes, Qichi thought carefully.

Neither Xinlu nor Qiushuang dared to disturb her. They simply knelt on either side of her with their eyes fixed on her, awaiting her decision.

After a long pause, Qichi reached into her sleeve, rummaging through the layers of fabric until she found the fish-shaped jade token.

"Alright, have the grain shop’s shopkeeper take two men to plead the case. Make sure they seek out the Grand Protector themselves, and try to delay him as long as possible.

"There’s a new shop under my name just outside the city that hasn’t yet come to the attention of the Protectorate. Tell the other shopkeepers to wait there. I’ll go by at sunset."

"And to avoid suspicion, tell the temple that I’ve returned home for the day."

Having issued her instructions, both Xinlu and Qiushuang responded in unison, "Yes, Master."

　　　　　　　　　　　　　※

By mid-afternoon, the sun cast a pale light over the city.

Fu Ting stood in front of the shop with a wine pouch in one hand, taking a swig from it.

Luo Xiaoyi walked over. Seeing him like this, he immediately knew that he was drinking to refresh himself. With a grin, he teased, "Third Brother, if you’re in such a rush to handle this matter, why bother sneaking back to the temple in the middle of the night? You barely got any rest, was it just to catch another glimpse of Sister-in-law?"

Fu Ting shot him a glance. "Less idle chatter when we’re working."

Luo Xiaoyi stopped talking and pointed to the shop in front of them. In a low voice, he said, "Third Brother, don’t you think this is a bit harsh? This merchant house is wealthy and influential, and they’re also a meritorious merchant. If not for your order forbidding us from revealing any information, this would’ve scared off every merchant from the northern lands."

Fu Ting tucked the wine pouch away. "I know what I’m doing."

His order had been for the shopkeepers to leave, but he hadn’t shut down the businesses. In fact, he had sent men to temporarily take over the shops, ensuring that everything appeared normal on the surface.

He had no intention of destroying their businesses.

A guard hurried over to report. "A shopkeeper is here to see you. He requests an audience with the Grand Protector."

Luo Xiaoyi ssaid. "Looks like they’re here to plead their case."

Fu Ting asked, "Just the shopkeeper?"

The guard replied, "One shopkeeper, accompanied by two assistants."

Luo Xiaoyi clicked his tongue. "Even in such a situation, the owner doesn’t show up. Could it be that he’s truly terminally ill?"

Fu Ting recalled the sickly, yellowed face of the man he had seen lying in the sickbed the night before. He drew the horsewhip from his waist. "Whether it is true or not, we’ll find out soon enough."

It was rare for a merchant to trouble him so much.

　　　　　　　　　　　　　※

As the sun set, Qichi was already seated in the shop on time.

Beside her stood Qiushuang, dressed in men’s clothing. Meanwhile Xinlu was slowly making her way back to the residence in the carriage.

In front of Qichi was a bamboo curtain. She sat behind a small desk, and the fish-shaped jade token was placed on the desk. Beyond the curtain, several shopkeepers had hurriedly gathered. Dozens upon dozens of people came, nearly filling the room.

Qiushuang, standing by the curtain, glanced outside a few times and then leaned in to report, “Nearly all of those from inside and outside the city of Hanhai Commandery have arrived.”

Qichi nodded.

These people were her most trusted confidants, specially transferred here to the northern lands. But almost no one had seen her face.

Over the years, they had tied their entire livelihoods to her, thriving when she thrived, and suffering when she suffered. Precisely because they earned her trust and were thus able to wield their talents. However, she had never elevated any one person to a position of complete trust.

Knowing that the influence of the Prince of Guang’s household had weakened, she couldn’t afford to entrust everything to just one or two people. Doing so might lead to loss of control in the future.

Because of this impartiality, she had to come forward in person today, using the jade token as a symbol of her authority as the owner.

A heavy silence filled the air, interrupted occasionally by quiet sighs.

“Master, what should we do?” Someone finally couldn't hold back and asked.

Qichi cast a glance around the new shop.

This was a tea house she had recently opened.

Initially, she had no intention of opening this shop, but after hearing about a group of refugees who had settled nearby and, after reclaiming the surrounding land, they had started growing tea in addition to grain.

When she heard about it, she decided to open this shop, benefiting both herself and the people.

Most of her new shops in the northern lands were similar, fulfilling the needs of the people's livelihood in the North.

But Fu Ting didn’t know this. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have shut down her businesses so abruptly.

She looked over at Qiushuang.

Having served her for many years, Qiushuang knew exactly what to say at a time like this. In a loud voice, Qiushuang reassured the crowd, “You’ve all followed the master for many years, and rely on her for your livelihood. Rest assured, the master will not let you lose your jobs.”

With these words, everyone felt more at ease.

After a pause, one of them expressed concern, “In all our years of doing business, we’ve never encountered a situation like this. The Grand Protector personally gave the order, and it’s unlikely the restriction will be lifted soon. Our road to the North may soon become impassable.”

Qichi finally spoke. “No, he won’t. No matter how far he’s willing to go, he wouldn’t gamble with the people's livelihood in the North.”

The man then asked, "Then what does Master plan to do?"

Qichi thought that this must be taking the firewood out from the bottom of the cauldron, a drastic measure to deal with a situation. At this time, she began to understand Fu Ting’s intentions more clearly.

He must have grown suspicious of her businesses.

Still, she had no choice but to continue. If she didn’t, how could the northern lands prosper?

This was a deadlock. The only thing she underestimated was the sharpness of that man's mind.

She straightened her thoughts and said, “I don't think it will last long. I will find a way to dispel the Protectorate's suspicions. In the meantime, there’s no need for you to leave the northern lands. You can wait at your various establishments or stay here temporarily. The restrictions will eventually be lifted.”

Everyone all voiced their agreement.

As they spoke, Qiushuang stepped outside for a moment.

She had stationed guards outside, but the door was pushed open, so she naturally went to check.

The person who came in was the shopkeeper from the grain store.

Surprised, she asked, “Weren’t you supposed to be pleading with the Grand Protector? Why have you returned?”

The shopkeeper sighed, “The Grand Protector never saw me. I waited for a long time but only heard that he had already left with his men. I came here to report to the master.”

Qichi was stunned momentarily, then asked through the curtain, “Do you know where he went?”

The shopkeeper replied, “I don’t know.”

Her eyes flickered slightly as she asked again, “When you left the city, did you encounter any soldiers?”

“I ran into a group of soldiers at the city gate. I thought they were patrolling the city, but I avoided them. It didn’t seem to be an issue.”

Qichi suddenly stood up.

Qiushuang looked at her in surprise, “Master, what’s the matter?”

“Return home,” she said firmly.

Though Qiushuang didn’t fully understand, she rushed to the back door and opened it.

Qichi, meanwhile, grabbed the jade token from the desk with one hand and her veiled hat with the other. Just as she was about to leave, she heard a scream.

It was Qiushuang.

Almost simultaneously, there was a loud crash as the front door was kicked open.

Through the curtain, Qichi could make out a group of people storming in.

It was a group of soldiers.

The guards outside had been subdued, their weapons drawn, and not a single word dared to be uttered.

At the back door, Qiushuang had also been blocked by several soldiers.

The place was surrounded.

The sound of measured footsteps followed, and everyone in the room stood up with their heads bowed, not daring to make a sound as the man entered.

Fu Ting strode into the hall with one hand resting on his saber.

His eyes fixed immediately on the curtain.

There was no need to monitor the clinic. He knew that in such a critical moment, these shopkeepers would have summoned the owner themselves.

Luo Xiaoyi had already stabilized the situation and approached to nod at him.

Fu Ting moved toward the curtain.

The figure behind it remained still.

Until he stood beside the curtain.

Luo Xiaoyi followed, and as soon as he caught a glimpse of the figure behind the curtain, his eyes widened in shock. “Sis—”

His mouth was quickly covered.

Fu Ting clamped a hand over Luo Xiaoyi’s mouth, his gaze never leaving the figure behind the curtain.

Qichi stood there, looking at them with a calm expression, though her face had turned pale.

She looked at Fu Ting, her lips parting slightly before they gently closed.

Fu Ting let go of Luo Xiaoyi and silently examined her from head to toe. He looked at her at least twice, but he was not mistaken, it was indeed her.

His gaze shifted to her hands.

She held a veiled hat in one hand, and a piece of jade token in the other, which seemed to be in the shape of a fish.

Fu Ting clenched his jaw and reached out to grab it.

He had held this hand only a few hours earlier, but now the situation was drastically different.

Qichi tried to move her hand, but couldn't break free. He pried her fingers open and took the jade token.

Her hands were now empty, and her heart sank to the bottom.

With great difficulty, Fu Ting tore his gaze away from her face, then held the jade up to his eyes.

The fish-shaped jade token matched that of the merchant house's trademark.

All at once, the people in the room moved, dropping to their knees.

He turned his head and looked at the shopkeepers kneeling on the ground in the hall.

They weren’t kneeling to him as the Grand Protector, but to the token.

Fu Ting turned his gaze back to Qichi. She stared at him and hadn't said a word until now.

His throat tightened as he addressed her in a low voice, “Master?”

Author’s Note: Fu Ting: ... Qichi: What’s wrong with you? Fu Ting: I’m preparing myself mentally.

Maree's Corner: OMG FINALLY!!! oAo Anyway... "Master" used by Xinlu and Qiushuang means master of the household, the one who hold manage the household. While "Master" used by Fu Ting in the last sentence or when the shopkeepers address Qichi, it means master of the business or the owner. I have trouble differentiating it, because calling someone "Owner! Owner!" felt strange, like there's something amiss. So, I just translated it as Master. Sorry for the trouble... :D