#they are just the only place that sells that much leather so that’s why King goes there | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

extremelyblackandwhite · 4 years ago

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invisible string

pairing: mob!bucky barnes x reader

warnings: violence, harassing

a/n: sequel to willow. wanda is a tarot reader and you cannot tell me otherwise. it is canon.

WILLOW - TOLERATE IT

Time, curious time gave me no compasses, gave me no signs. Were there clues I didn't see? And isn't it just so pretty to think all along there was some invisible string tying you to me?

James was taken aback by her move, watching his black king cornered by both her white queen and king. How had he not seen it? It was right there ever since she moved her queen to lay in F7 right at the beginning of the game. How? It didn’t matter but her naughty smile, pushing at the corner of her chapstick painted lips left no doubt to who had won this game. He bit his lip leaning against the couch, full view of the glass chess board. She had less pieces left than him but she had still managed to won and as such he extended his hand towards her. She looked at his hand hesitantly, her winning grin fading and her usual insecurity returned as a shake hand came to shake his.

- No one has won a game against me in years. - he grabbed the glass black king from the board, handing it to her. - How’d you do it?

- You wanted my king. You wanted it so badly you forgot about your own, so I distracted you with minor pieces. Gave you the false sense of security you had it and then struck down.

- That’s such a dirty trick, petal. - he leaned against the velvet fabric of the armchair, eyeing her up and down. She felt naked under his gaze, almost as if he could see through her walls and clothing. She guessed a man like him needed to have such a sharp eye but it wasn’t any less intimidating, even if she had just won a chess match against him.

He rose slowly from the armchair, his feet moving slowly towards a silver cart leaning against a wall, just under an abstract painting with several glass bottles of several coloured liquids. He took the glass stone from one of them, pouring some of the dark amber liquid onto two glasses before offering one to Y/N.

- Glenlivet. - he spoke out, noticing the confusion on her face. - You’re old enough to drink, aren’t you?

- How old do you think I am Mr. Barnes? I thought you knew everything about your employees.

- And I do, petal. I know where you went to school, kindergarten even, know the name of your friends and that’s all from one of my men following you for a day. - Bucky rose his glass in a small toast before starting to drink. Y/N’s colour drained from her face as she started to wonder if she’d gone to see his father in the precinct. She hadn’t. At least she thought yet her body started shaking and it became harder to breathe. - Y/N? Hey, are you okay?

- Yeah ... I just need some fresh air. - she tried to get up from the couch but she couldn’t, her nerves getting over her. What if he’d heard her speak about the undercover job, she was dead, she was definitely flirting with death the moment she stepped into his home.

- Someone was following you from the bar, petal. I’m not going to kill you, if I were to kill you it wouldn’t be in the comfort of my own home. Blood is a bitch to take out of white carpets. - Bucky once again seemed to read through her. He once again got up from his couch, placing his gun on the marbled island of his kitchen before returning to her. - You’re paranoid, petal.

- It’s not ... I don’t really like being followed. Why were you following me?

- That guy from the bar followed you home and since he got his head smashed against the counter and a drink thrown in his face, I thought better to send Steve after you for that night. You are awfully clumsy and if you had any real enemies, you’d be dead by now. You leave your key under the entry matt and so does your housemate and her lousy brother too. Twins?

- Yes.

- You’re so afraid of me but in all honesty petal, you’re the biggest danger to yourself.

- Has Steve followed me recently?

- No. I’ve been driving you home ever since, park a bit outside campus to ensure you get in. It’s an ugly world out there, petal.

- I know. Trust me, I do ...

After her mother died, the home she had once learned to love lost its homey feeling. Suddenly, the home that always smelled like fresh lemon tarts and gardenias was now dark. His father left his case files all over the kitchen and would sit at the table smoking his cigars with a glass of port as he read through the cases. Her father loved her, he did, just in his own way.

She still remembered peaking by the door, holding onto a blanket her mother had quilted for her with her name embroidered in aqua blue, and seeing the photos scattered around the table of murders, abusers, robberies. She knew there was darkness, she just preferred to ignore it.

- You live inside your head very often don’t you? - he eyed her as she took a sip of the drink he had offered her. Scotch was never her drink of choice, she preferred not to drink at all seeing how it had soured her father. Yet, she guessed a centenary drink was no joke.

- That’s called being an only child, Mr. Barnes. Besides, my ideas are rarely worth listening.

- Hm, I see ... Perhaps you’d like to see your room? - he changed the conversation, offering a hand to her so she could get up.

Her soft fingers wrapped around his cold hand, a stark contrast to her warm hand. Bucky finger lingered over the top of her palm, feeling the softness and plumpness of her skin compared to his scarred, rough one. She didn’t mind, she followed him happily through the halls of his way too big house.

Steve had told him when he bought it that it was too big for himself alone but for Bucky buying a big flat meant he made it, he could now tell everyone else who doubted him to fuck off yet it was hard to come back to it at the end of the day. Always clean and always empty. The staff didn’t stay behind for much longer, having heard all sorts of rumours and he believed if Y/N wasn’t so afraid of him, she would’ve probably left. Yet, he couldn’t find himself to sell the flat so he just slept in hotel rooms. Smaller roomers where it didn’t feel like the emptiness surrounded him constantly.

He led her to one of the guest rooms he had decorated in soft pinks, whites and greys. Bucky guessed it’d make her comfortable, it matched her cardigans and little embroidered dresses she would bring around to the bar despite most of his waitresses constantly berating her on it, saying it would get her no tips.

Y/N peaked through the door crack as he opened it. The room was rather soft with a large king sized bed with white and blush pink bedding along with a grey rug nearby. With so many bedrooms, he probably had enough time to decorate each one with a different colour palette.

- There should be some pyjamas in the wardrobe. Might be a bit big but it’s better than sleeping with your clothes on.

- You seem prepared. Is this where you bring your mistresses?

- My mistresses don’t sleep in my house. - why would you say that, Y/N? Are you trying to get yourself killed? - I’ll drive you home tomorrow at 8AM so you should go to sleep. Goodnight, petal.

- Thank you. Goodnight, Mr. Barnes. - he closed the door behind her and she was left with herself in the bedroom.

She padded around the linoleum floors, phone in hand as she photographed the horizon so maybe her father could locate the house and search for evidence. Y/N couldn’t. She couldn’t find herself to go investigating his house as he was kind enough to offer her a place to stay. Instead she just investigated the room which was so much better. It was a suite with its own bathroom decorated with monogramed fluffy white towels and white marbled surfaces. She wondered why he wouldn’t bring someone here, it was clearly a work of architectural art but yet again, maybe don’t show strangers where you sleep. Maybe he shouldn’t have shown it to her.

At least she was doing something right. At least he didn’t hate her enough not to allow her to listen to his conversations, to the talks of deals that would surely provide her father’s precinct with the clues that they were not insane to think that there were tradings happening under their noses. She was doing good but she felt dirty nonetheless. She didn’t like lying but she also wanted to graduate, to be something other than the Capitan’s daughter.

She ignored her mind and got dressed in the steamed and washed pyjamas that were hanging on the silk hanger of the closet and got inside the bed. She was okay, she was going to be okay.

The daylight ruptured through the night and she was the first one up to get dressed and make the bed as well as put the pyjamas back on their place. Bucky didn’t take long to knock on her door and as she opened it there he was again, polished suit and hair as if looking casual destroyed the whole appearance. It didn’t, he was a handsome man and she was absolutely certain he would look handsome in anything.

- Did you sleep well? - he questioned as she stepped out the room, holding onto her worn out faux leather brown satchel.

- Yes, it’s a very comfortable bed. What about you?

- I don’t have time to sleep, petal. I was thinking about having some breakfast before I dropped you off, if that’s okay with you.

- I just want to get back home. My flatmate might worry.

Bucky didn’t force her. She was like any other staff and he guessed having breakfast with the mob boss wasn’t her idea of a good spent morning, besides, she probably still needed to go to class. He drove her back to her small, unsafe which she saw as safe flat, keeping an eye on her every once in a while. Her posture was rigid or even one that a manner teacher wouldn’t correct, it was slouched over his window, hand under her chin as she observed the early morning light illuminate the city.

Getting to campus during early mornings were always funny to her as she never knew what she would find; some students would be still returning from nights out while some would exit the library with piles and piles of books and notes. Either way, it was always a fun game. He stopped in front of her flat, putting the car on stop, engine slowly lowering its sounds.

- Thank you for bringing me, Mr. Barnes. - she held her satchel against her chest.

- You got an evening dress? Cocktail party maybe?

- So not a black dress? - she teased, biting the skin of inner lip.

- Definitely not.

- I think I might have something.

- You’re not working tonight, you’re coming with me to an auction. I’ll pay you double the salary of a nightshift if you say yes.

- Plus night wages?

- Everything you’d get paid a night, I’ll double it.

- I’ll get to work finding that dress then. - she opened the door of his car, exiting before waving him goodbye.

Getting inside her flat, she could definitely sense the difference between worlds she was living in. Spend time with James Barnes, her father told her. Besides, how bad could an action be? There were several people there and if she knew what he was buying maybe it would prove useful in the future.

She climbed the stairs up to her door which was slightly open. She would’ve questioned why had it not been for Pietro’s voice echoing through the whole hall. Of course. None of them really close the door whenever the other one is around.

- Wanda, I’m telling you, that’s bullshit. - he told his sister who merely rolled her eyes at him. - Shuffle it again.

- It says you’re a fuckboy deal with it. - she crossed her arms, before noticing Y/N had come in. - Hey you, you’re here early. I thought you were gonna appreciate your motel stay for a little while.

- Well, I ... I was just homesick. - she lied. Wanda clearly wouldn’t like to know where she had spent the night. - What are you guys doing?

- Pietro asked me to do a reading on him and he’s upset at the result. As per usual.

- I’m telling you the deck is broken. Do Y/N. - he pointed at the captain’s daughter who sat down by the coffee table where the two were. Wanda shrugged and asked Y/N to touch the deck before she started to shuffle it, three cards falling onto the table as soon as she did.

The Lovers, the Devil and Death. Y/N knew those cards all too well, she loved roaming through Wanda’s deck and marvel at the beautiful pictures and Wanda normally told her that the Death card was not as bad as everyone made it look like as well as the Devil. However, this time, all the colour drained from the brunette’s face as the stared at the cards fallen on the table. She shuffled the deck again, hoping for more cards, this time getting the Six and Nine of Swords.

- Everything okay, Wan? - she asked her friend who was intensely staring at the cards in front of her.

- Yeah ... I guess Pietro is right, the deck is broken.

- See? I told you so. You never listen to me.

- I think I should be getting to class now. - she interrupted the two sibling’s bickering. - I’ll see you later.

She spent most of her classes thinking about the auction. It was harmless enough and her father was over the moon, telling her she should be proud that she was now part of the “inner circle”, whatever that meant. Nevertheless, she was getting paid double which would always help with rent and utilities. The last module took hours of a lecturer going through yet another generic powerpoint followed by a class of over a hundred students rushing out the door the moment it was over.

She took to her bedroom before Wanda arrived to search for the only evening dress she had which barely saw the light of day, mostly living inside the black box over her wardrobe. It was her mother’s, something she had left behind that Y/N had taken a particular liking to once she grew up. It was a baby pink slip dress with the hem in matching lace and she guessed it would be appropriate for an auction.

- Where are you going? - Wanda asked as Y/N stepped out of the room. Shit. Of all the days for her to be home early, it just had to be today. - What are you doing wearing your mum’s dress?

- It’s fancy dress day at the bar.

- Fancy dress day at a mob bar?

- Clearly.

- What are you hid ... - Wanda was interrupted by Y/N’s phone. Mr. Barnes had texted her he was outside just at the right time.

- I’ll see you later, Wan. Have fun but not too much fun.

Before the brunette could question her, Y/N was already out the door, bag in hand. She went down the stairs and outside where Mr. Barnes was leaning against his car, dressed in a navy blue suit which made him look like a model gracing the cover’s of fashion magazines.

- You’re supposed to make me wait, petal.

- I like being on time. - she walked up to him, standing less than an arm’s distance from the posh dressed mob boss.

- I should start by warning you not to go by your real name today. Safety purposes.

- What should I call myself then? Your date? - she asked as he helped her inside the car.

- You can call yourself whatever you’d like, petal. As long as it’s not your real name and I know what name you’re going by.

- Uhm ... I wanna go by Betty.

- Betty?

- Like Betty Draper from Mad Men. She sounds like the type of woman who would go to an auction.

- So you wanna be Betty Drapper? - Bucky hide a small smile as he drove through the dark night.

- No, I wanna be called Betty for tonight. - she leaned against the comfortable seatings of his car.

“You’re part of the inner circle now, darling. Do something about it”, her father’s words echoed in her mind through the faint sound of the radio playing Doris Day. Yet again she had no idea how going to an auction would be a break in the case unless Mr. Barnes was buying weapons or drugs. The fact she was going by a different name didn’t calm her nerves but he wouldn’t kill her in a public setting. She watched the trees pass by from the window of his car until they reached a big white house which could be certainly considered a mansion.

Mr. Barnes got off his car while the engine was still roaring, handing the key to the valet before opening her door. She looked up at him, blinded by the fairy lights all around the mansion and suddenly she got nervous, very nervous. Nevertheless, she took his help in getting off the car, walking to his left as the valet drove away with his car.

- We’re sticking with Betty? - he asked as they climbed up the stairs to the entry of the mansion.

- We are. - she nodded as he knocked on the door. A poshly dressed man opened the door allowing for her to peak inside. The room was full of people chatting to each other, champagne flutes in hand of roaring laughter. This was definitely different from the environment she was used to back at the club.

Without noticing, she clung to his side as he moved through the seas of people drinking and admiring art work which she guessed was what was being auctioned until they got stopped by a slightly shorter than him man dressed in a black tuxedo.

- Barnes, you made it. I saved some of your favourite pieces for you. - he was happily talking until he noticed Y/N by the mob boss’ side. - Who is this lovely lady?

- This is Betty. - he was an excellent liar, even she would’ve believed her name was Betty.

- Pleasure to meet you, miss. - he curtsied which greatly confused her. - Do you want to come see them? I told my Miriam that the Proserpina paintings would be for Mr. Barnes when we started picking pieces.

The mob boss was sweet on art? She curiously followed them into a badly light room in shades of burgundy and dark browns where several paintings. She observed them with an innocent look as Bucky heard about the prices and its overall worth. Of course they were not going into auction, they had been saved for him and him alone. He was important, stupidly important when compared to these other people. She could hear whispering from other people as he passed by, away from the room through other people.

The man, whose name Y/N still hadn’t really heard, left them in the entrance with everyone else, two champagne flutes immediately making their way to them. Yet, she still didn’t know exactly what to do. What would this be of use to her father? Someone liking art was common, something very common. Once again useless.

- Why did you bring me here if you don’t even need to attend the auction?

- It’s a bad look to appear unaccompanied. Besides, I’d like to see the auction tonight.

- I didn’t know you liked art.

- You thought I’d only like to see people dying, petal? - he spoke in a soft, calm manner but she could see his smirk through his strong facade.

- Look who it is. - Bucky’s face switched into an heavy expression, something Y/N barely saw and didn’t like to see. His arm pulled her behind him as someone dressed in what looked like a taffeta black suit walked up to him accompanied by a black haired woman in a skin tight burgundy dress much more sensual than Y/N’s blush pink flared dress. - James Buchanan Barnes, I thought you didn’t visit this part of town.

- Rumlow, I visit whatever part I want.

- You remember my wife Rachel. - he pointed at the woman nearby him. - I don’t think I remember your friend. Care to introduce us?

- This is Betty. She’s Sharon’s niece.

- Pleasure. There sure are lovely jewellery pieces tonight at auction, aren’t there?

- And I believe I should care about those since I’m a woman. - Y/N gave him a forced smile, earning a scoff from Bucky who was trying not to laugh at her quick wit.

- I’m here to bid on the Elizabeth earrings. They’re a brilliant piece, don’t you think?

- Yes, well ... we should be getting to our seats. - Bucky ignored the request for continuing the conversation, instead holding Y/N’s hand and leading her towards the auction room.

That was an odd conversation, one with underlying feelings of animosity. Maybe coming here was worth it, maybe that name “Rumlow” would be of use to her father. However, it didn’t matter as she was rather exciting to be in her very first auction. Sitting down in gold painted chairs she could see the paddles with several numbers and even the odd gentleman with a monocle.

Bucky looked at her with a faint smile, observing how his world seemed to still entice her as for him it had long its spark a long, long time ago. People kept sitting down and soon enough the auctioneer was on the stage presenting pieces and shouting values of high amounts of money. High enough to pay for the rest of her degree, a masters and a few PhDs but she guessed this was how high society lived.

- Finally, one of tonight’s most special pieces. - the man pointed at a pair of earrings on a glass box. - The Elizabeth earrings are made of white gold with two diamonds taken from The Cullinan diamond, one of the most precious in the world whose siblings belong to Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth. Let’s start at 5 thousand.

Brock raised his paddle.

- 5 thousand, does anyone says 6 thousand?

James rose his own paddle, surprising Y/N. She thought he was only here for the painting.

- 6 thousand, 7 thousand? - Brock once again rose his paddle. - 7 thousand, 8 thousand?

Bucky once again rose his paddle, smirk on his face. He always enjoyed the chase and an auction chase was no exception. Besides, he would love to win those earrings just to piss off Brock Rumlow.

- 8 thousand, 9 thousand? - Brock rose his paddle again. - 9 thousand, 10 thousand?

- 5 hundred thousand. - Bucky spoke out loud and clear for everyone to hear.

- 5 hundred thousand, any higher? - Y/N’s gaze moved over to Brock who kept his paddle neatly in the middle of his lap, an upset expression gracing his face. His face moved to look at Barnes but he didn’t care, holding a winning smile on his lips. - Going once, going twice, going thrice ... Sold to Mr. Barnes. Congratulations.

Bucky didn’t low himself down to look at Rumlow instead getting up once the auction was over. Y/N followed him, curiosity once again getting hold of her and every fibre of hers. She had never seen diamonds in person, much less as precious as these ones were so once she went into the back and saw the woman place them into a red velvet box, she was done for. They placed the box on a nice black matte bag and handed it over to Mr. Barnes along with the certification of authenticity.

The auction after party become boring afterwards, with Rumlow giving Barnes a look no one would like to receive and him having little to no care about it. At around 11PM, the time she would end her shift today, he started to walk away, tipping the valet some money to fetch his car while both of them waited outside. It was a cold night, the wind moaning in slow blows and suddenly she regretted not bringing a jacket.

- You should’ve brought a jacket. - before she could roll her eyes at this comment, she felt something fall onto her shoulders. Looking to the right shoulder, she recognised the navy blue fabric of his suit’s jacket. - Did you enjoy being someone else for the evening?

- I didn’t envision my alter ego being Steve’s girlfriend’s family but I’ll accept it. It was nice, thank you for bringing me.

- My pleasure, Betty. - he joked. - I do prefer your name over Betty.

The valet brought back his beloved car and handed back the keys. It had been a rather fun night, one that surely went above and beyond her expectations. At least she had a name to give to her father, one of a contact that would be willing to speak about Barnes. Nevertheless, she couldn’t help but feel absolutely dirty about it. He hadn’t done anything bad to her, anything that would consider her betrayal. He’d hurt people, or at least that’s what her father said. He’d hurt people, but she’d only seen him doing it to those who actually deserved it. It was wrong, it was wrong but she had too.

These thoughts kept her quiet, with eyes on the road. This was bad, this was bad, how was she going to betray him but that was the job. Feel nothing, her father had told her before, feel nothing and don’t get hurt. She didn’t want him to get locked up yet again maybe she was too innocent to see what was really happening.

- We’re here, Y/N. - he killed the engine, stopping in front of the building. - You don’t look alright. Do you want me to drive you to the hospital?

- Oh, no, no. I’m just tired. - she lied. Once again lying.

- I’m sorry for keeping you up this late. I’ll double your night pay too.

- It’s not necessary, Mr. Barnes.

- Bucky.

- Pardon?

- Call me Bucky. - he corrected her. - From now on, you can call me Bucky.

- Bucky. - she repeated, a silly smile forming on her face. - Well, goodnight Bucky.

- Goodnight, petal. Don’t forget your bag. - he handed her bag to the young girl before waving his last goodbye.

She stood in the sidewalk, watching his car leave with a silly smile on her face. Why was she even smiling? She should be feeling guilty, not smiley. Yet she was stuck in the middle of those two emotions. She needed to go back to bed, that’s what she needed. She needed to go back to her bed and sleep it through so like every single night, she climbed the stairs up to her flat. Once in front of her old student flat door, she opened her wallet to search for her keys.

Damned keys, always seemed to disappear in the darkness of her bag and as she rummaged through the contents she had been throwing inside her bag over the years. As she kept searching for her keys, something fell from her bag onto the bag.

- Shit. - she mumbled to herself, squatting down to grab what had fallen. Her mouth opened agape as she saw the same velvet blue box from the auction. Looking around and seeing no one around, she opened the box and there they were, the same earrings she had seen on the auction glass along with a note. Maybe Betty will like them. JBB. - I can’t believe it.

Once again, smiling like a fool. She couldn’t believe it, it couldn’t be, it had to be some sort of mistake. These were 5 hundred thousand dollar pair of earrings for a woman who was wearing a hand me down dress from her mother. Before someone else could see them she shoved them back inside her purse, opening the door to her flat.

- We need to talk.

taglist: @lookiamtrying @mariamermaid @sebastianstansqueen @unmagically @buckybarnes1982 @mela-noche @lowercasegenius @randomweirdooo @projectcampbell @sebbystanlover-vk @jevans2 @hollarious @itsallyscorner

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frogtanii · 4 years ago

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hq boys as the crimes they’d commit

warnings: CRIMES, crackfic, probably many typos idk i’m so tired lmaooo, cursing, drinking ??? idfk 😩💦

an: and i did this for what?? inspired by hq hcs royalty @sugardaddykenma @hina-wit-da-glock (AJSKSJ SORRY FOR TAGGING Y’ALL IF YOU SEE THIS, IT IS DEF NOT UP TO PAR W Y’ALLS WORKS ILY)

karasuno

sawamura daichi- insurance fraud!! somehow this is such a dad crime to commit?? dadchi didn’t try (dumb excuse, how do you accidentally commit insurance fraud smh) to commit insurance fraud but at one point in his late-thirties, he was very very broke and was already working as much as possible so, he decided to fake an ankle injury, as you do, and filed a bunch of claims which made him bank. daichi kept doing it until he was able to quit one of his jobs and buy himself a really nice suit and a rolex (uhhh 🥵). he somehow never got caught tho and to this day, none of his friends know how he was able to afford a tesla on a cop’s salary (sorry daichi but acab 😔✨)

sugawara kōshi- child abandonment!! ok you can try and fight me on this but i feel in my bones that suga absolutely despises children. he can tolerate ages 10+ but anything younger than that, he will punt them into the next dimension. the thing is, people just assume he likes kids because of how good he is with his team which is why his aunt begged him to babysit his nephew taro. taro was being an absolute brat when suga took him out for the day and he was 👉👈 this close to snapping. he put taro down for like 3 seconds to pay for their ice cream and when he turned back, the demon spawn was gone. he panicked, running around the park looking for taro when it turns out, taro was just bent down behind the bench. some random karen called the police and suga has never craved murder more.

nishinoya yuu- arson!! you CANNOT tell me nishinoya doesn’t have a ~murder~ playlist that he listens to to get himself hype (me too noya, me too). one night, he got a lil too hype listening to start a riot by duckwrth and watching demolition videos on youtube. he snuck out of his house to an empty shed like 30 minutes away and maybe... lit it on fire while genocide by lil darkie played on a speaker nearby. what he did NOT anticipate was the absolute size of the fire so he freaked out and called the firefighters who promptly called the police. he didn’t want to get grounded so he called daichi to bail him out. daichi still told noya’s parents 😔.

tanaka ryūnosuke- vandalism!! tanaka had been on alt tiktok and saw a group of cool friends spray painting an abandoned building. he thought “that’s cool, lemme do that!” but then he realized he had no friends (AHDGS JK I LOVE TANAKA). he asked nishinoya who was grounded from the arson incident and he knew he definitely couldn’t ask daichi, suga, asahi, or enoshita so he decided to go it alone. that proved to be a MASSIVE mistake. he got the supplies, arrived to the building of his choice (thanks saeko :3), and decided to spray paint a huge p3ni5 in bright red paint. he finished “successfully” and zoomed back home. what he didn’t realize with his two-and-a-half braincells is that he signed his glorious piece with his full name. the cops were at his house the next morning...🧍

hinata shoyō- forgery!! hinata did NOT think that forgery was even a crime. how was he supposed to know that he wasn’t allowed to copy his mom’s signature on a permission form! all he wanted was to go to an overnight training camp 😿

kageyama tobio- attempted murder!! kageyama swears it sounds worse than was and he is absolutely incorrect. what happened was so much worse. he and hinata were having a competition to see who could hold their breath the longest underwater (you can’t tell me they haven’t done some dumbass shit like this) and kageyma lost almost instantly (he has the tiny lungs of an asthmatic). he didn’t want hinata to notice so he held hinata’s head under the water for like 10 seconds. suga walked in though, saw hinata thrashing around in the water and immediately called the police. kageyama never forgave him.

tsukishima kei- cyberbullying!! first of all, i had no idea you could get arrested for cyber bullying!? that being said, neither did tsukishima who spent 80% of his time making fun of people online (and on his real account!! bold). eventually one of the people he bullied (hinata) reported him on instagram and his very lame account was deleted (pls don’t bully people online 😤).

yamaguchi tadashi- shoplifting!! andjksh this is so funny because this scenario has happened to me and i can just SEE this happening to poor tadashi. yamaguchi gets super late night cravings (and usually tsukki will walk with him at like 3 am 🥺 nEWAYS) so he’ll sneak out and walk to the mini-mart near his house. one night, he was so tired but also super hungry so he went onto his nightly routine and basically sleepwalked into the store. he picked out his favorite chips and candy bar (which are sour cream&onion lays and milky ways in case you were wondering 😌✨) and just... walked out the store without paying. the store clerk was mysteriously missing so yamaguchi made it all the way home, ate half the bag of chips and passed out without realizing what he’d done. once he did, he cried for 2 hours straight.

nekoma

kuroo tetsurō- telemarketing fraud!! kuroo originally did telemarketing fraud as a joke?? like he was trying to prank call someone pretending that they had lost their information and they actually gave it to him??? he was mildly concerned but even more excited. he did it over and over again but he never used the info for anything. to this day, kuroo literally has a notebook full of credit card numbers and bank account passwords but he refuses to use it because he believes it’s ✨wrong✨(but it isn’t wrong to take all that information in the first place under false pretenses, not realizing that once people find out, they are forced to close credit cards and accounts but go off self righteous king). once he brought the book up to kenma and he offered to sell it on the dark web. now kuroo feels less bad about what he’s done! :D

kozume kenma- computer crime!! pfttt this one seems kinda obvious but what do you expect from kenma :). he spends so much time on the internet, he’s definitely picked up some less than legal skills that still help him now 👀. kenma did little mini crimes like getting into other people’s wifi but his crowning achievement was when he hacked into the minneapolis pd website and had it so when you opened the page, a black lives matter screen came up. he never told anyone that it was him who did it but he thinks it’s the best he’s ever done.

yaku morisuke- racketeering!! yaku, the feral king, ran an underground gambling ring in the basement of nekoma (do they have basements?? who knows! i don’t!) during his third year. the only reason it didn’t get shut down was because coach nekomata took a portion of yaku’s profits whenever he won (which was literally all the time). everyone on the team has lost money to him which is why they never play with him anymore. they won’t even let yaku play monopoly 😔.

haiba lev- indecent exposure!! poor lev’s head is so empty, he tends to fall for whatever pranks his senpai’s do to him. this time kuroo had somehow convinced him that in order to grow his schlong, he had to run outside naked for 10 minutes because the moonlight had special growing properties. lev was a lil scared ngl because he was already superrr tall and didn’t need to grow his height (or his dick ((boy is hung)) but poor lev is insecure) but he did it anyway. long story short, an old woman saw him parading around the neighborhood naked and called el policia. 0/10 dick did NOT grow and had to spend a night in jail naked 😿

aoba johsai

oikawa tōru- prostitution!! KAKKAKA iwazumi made fun of oikawa for being so shitty and said that he couldn’t pick up anyone if he tried. flattykawa took this as a personal challenge and went out onto the street, asking people if they’d have sex with him. with the way he was asking (and the way he was dressed), people assumed he was a paid w h o r e and someone eventually reported him. iwazumi had to pick oikawa up from the station- he never let him live this one down.

iwaizumi hajime- battery!! it wasn’t technically battery but oikawa is a lil bitch and overreacts (at least in his words -_-). the amount of times iwa-chan has beat the absolute shit out of oikawa is uNREAL. he just can’t handle the stupidity sometimes so he just smacks the crap outta him. not for real for real but the way oikawa reacts, you’d think a murder was occurring. one time, shittykawa screeched so loud, they got a noise complaint -_- hajime hates it in these streets.

matsukawa issei & hanamaki takahiro- conspiracy!! issei and hiro have a secret blog where they discuss conspiracy theories and such but one day, hiro found an article that explained how jfk’s death was an inside job. he sent it to issei who began to theorize how HE’D do it. that devolved into a massive thread on their blog of how’d they murder a president which blew up and caught the attention of the cia who sent the a letter telling them to quietly delete the blog. they did because they were terrified but they kept the letter and now it’s framed in issei’s apartment.

kyōtani kentarō- assault!! baby is an angry little boy but for all the right reasons. he was at a bar (when he’s all grown up, duh) and he spotted an absolute drunk creep hitting on a girl who clearlyyyy did not reciprocate his feelings. kyōtani, being the respectful king that he is, went over to the guy, pulled him by the jacket and beat. the. shit. out of him. while the bartender was happy with the fact that the creep was out, he was not impressed with the damage to his bar. he just sent kyōtani out who casually adjusted his leather jacket and rings, and hopped on his motorcycle to ride away into the night. i am the FATTEST simp for this man ONG 🥴

shiratorizawa

ushijima wakatoshi- stalking!! poor ushijima has no idea how intimidating he can be. he was on a train late at night after practice and the woman sitting across from him left her purse sitting on the seat. being the gentleman that he is, he took the purse and followed her to return it. the only problem is that the closer he got, the faster she ran and when he tried to speak (yknow with his scary, deep, baritone voice), the woman screeched and called the cops on him because he was a “strange, big man who was following her home.” when the police showed up, ushijima was painfully confused and just held up this tiny ass purse in his massive hands. the cops laughed.

tendō satori- ???!! no one knows what crimes (or how many 😳) tendō has committed but each of his teammates have different ideas- ushijima: “i don’t believe tendou is capable of committing any sort of felony. well, maybe murder”; semi: “of COURSE he’s capable of crimes??! do you know how many times i’ve seen him come into the dorm with a suspicious stain of red on his sweater?? *shudders* if i end up dead, tendō did it...” in actuality, the only crime tendō has committed is ~drugs~ but he’s not bouta tell his friends that.

goshiki tsutomu- would be a VICTIM!! my baby tsutomu would NEVER commit a crime!!! i love this man with my everything and the only crime he’s committed is being too damn cute 😤🥺

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rainbowvamp · 3 years ago

Text

Choices made, Roads Taken

babe wake up new princess bride au chapter just dropped.

Full text beneath the cut. Warnings for talk of marriage as a necessary step in a woman's life, fear of homelessness, and I don't think anything else but I've written 20k since I last edited this, so if there's anything else let me know and I'll add it.

5k for the red team weekly prompt ""In life you always have a choice. Sometimes it's easier to think that you don't."

Relationships: Mergwen (platonic), and Gwen & Elyan (siblings)

Elyan tells Gwen that she has to be married by Summer's End because he's selling the forge to pursue vengeance on their father. Gwen doesn't particularly want to be married to some man she doesn't love. Enter Elyan's friend Merlin.

At least she doesn't have to get married.

---

She is 17 when Elyan tells her she has to be married soon. They have been barely scraping by for 2 years, but they have been making it. There’s no reason that Gwen can think of that anything should change, that Gwen should move on. Elyan has shown no signs of taking a wife, and who would take care of him when she was gone?

When she asks this question, he doesn’t answer, face stoney and set against emotion. She has a terrible clawing feeling that she knows what will happen once she is married.

He starts making inquiries around the village. Plenty of men are interested, but in secret, Elyan always asks Gwen “yes or no,” always gives her the choice. She refuses to be married to a man who will not treat her kindly, or is too old or too young, and eventually she runs out of men in nearby villages to marry, and Elyan loses his patience with her.

“There has to be someone, Guinevere. Someone! I can’t search the five Kingdoms for your husband, and your time is running short. You must be married by the end of the summer.”

It is already middle spring. Gwen’s blood is audible in her ears as it rushes through her, carrying the heart sinking knowledge with it.

“What have you done, Elyan?” She whispers it, afraid to say it any louder than she must.

Elyan won’t look at her, finds anything else to set his eyes on while he thinks up an excuse. “I just think you’re getting old.”

It’s a cruel thing to say, and he knows it, but his voice is distracted, and his eyes shift from place to place, never quite settling while he speaks. He lies, and she knows it.

“Again. The truth this time.”

When she sets her hands on her hips like that, it reminds him of their mother, and it makes him feel contrite. She knows this, because he told her once, as a joke, and she’s used it against him ever since.

“I’ve sold the forge. The new tenant will take the house and the forge come Autumn. You have to have somewhere to go by then. A husband will take care of you.”

“And what about you?” She glared at him, biting her cheek to stop herself from yelling. “What are you going to do? Unless you’re courting some woman I don’t know about?”

Elyan’s eyes settle at their feet, hands behind his back, childlike, caught completely in his lie.

“I’ve been studying.” Elyan said, but his eyes never left their feet. “I’m going to travel, learn more.”

“To what end?” She asked, and Elyan still did not look at her.

“I cannot tell you.” Finally his eyes meet hers, and Gwen had this terrible, sneaking suspcion that she dared not speak.

“You’ll get yourself killed.” She said instead, and Elyan’s shoulders squared.

“And if I do, I’ll know you’re taken care of. You choose a husband by midsummer, so you can be married before autumn, or I choose one for you.”

Gwen sets her jaw and fists the fabric of her skirt to keep her nails from digging into her palm, drawing blood as they seem to do so often these days.

“If you force me to marry someone I do not care for, I will hate you forever.”

Elyan looks away from her and grabs this leather forge gloves. “Maybe. But you will be cared for. That much I will assure.”

Elyan leaves, goes to the forge for the day, and Gwen is left with the day’s chores and the laundry of two other families to attend to. She starts with the laundry, because she needs to have it back by tomorrow morning. The chores can wait. They often do. The house is nowhere near as clean and tidy as it was when father was alive, but they are making it, and making it is as much as she ever hopes for anymore. She loves her brother, but if he marries her off, she will never forgive him.

—

She says no to three more men before Elyan comes home from the forge one day with a dark haired man who must be older than her by a significant amount. He looks 25, at least, but Gwen doesn’t look at him much. She hopes that if he thinks she’s rude, he’ll lose interest.

“Guinevere,” Elyan rarely uses her full name to introduce her, but he is trying to sell her off like a prize pig, so it only makes sense that he would use it now. “This is Merlin Emrys. He’s a merchant, and a physician, passing through town. He’ll be having supper with us tonight.”

It goes without saying that he’ll stay the night as well. She and Elyan have shared their parents bed numerous times to give lodging to a traveler. It’s easy money, good money, but Gwen is tired from washing all day, and angry besides because Elyan had chewed her out for not choosing a husband again that morning and she was still miffed about it.

“I’ll set an extra plate,” Is all that she says to her brother, taking more vegetables from her stock to cut up and add to the stew she’d just put on. It would stretch a little longer with the vegetables, but wouldn’t be as filling. She could’ve added more of the dried meat, or even baked a quick bread, but she was trying specifically not to impress this man who was traveling alone and hadn’t mentioned a wife yet. While Merlin and Elyan talked, Gwen got out the guest linens and made the cot, set the little house to rights as much as she could, and stirred the soup regularly.

“That smells excellent, Guinevere. I’ve had road rations for so long, this meal will be a treat.” Merlin tells her, and she doesn’t turn from where she’s stirring the pot when she answers.

“I’m glad.” Her tone is curt and she doesn’t sound glad at all. She doesn’t feel glad. She wished this man would just disappear. She wished Elyan would keep the forge and they could continue on as they were. Gwen didn’t care for boys, or for marriage, and why she should have to, just because Elyan wanted to study swordplay and kill-

She stopped her train of thought there. It was treason to even think it.

At least her brother wanted her married off and far away before he tried. It was a kindness as much as it was a cruelty.

Gwen wondered if she’d ever see her brother again once she married. It’s not like the King is an easily accessible person just waiting around to be-

“Guinevere, tell Merlin about your sewing. The embroidery you were doing for the Henrick’s bridal gown.” Elyan is trying to show her off, make her brag. Politeness dictates how she behaves, but it doesn’t dictate her tone. She leaves the spoon sitting on the little fire burning stove and goes to the back of the cottage where her needlework is kept. She’s nearly done with the embroidery for the future Mrs. Henrick, and it’s very beautiful, even if she said so herself. She brings the whole basket over and plops it on the table unceremoniously in front of Merlin. He doesn’t even flinch, which aggravates her, but she pulls out the embroidery carefully, making sure the needle stuck in the fabric is right by where his hand will grab it, hoping he’ll stick himself.

He does not, unfortunately, stick himself. His hands are ginger, delicate, as he handles the soft blue fabric. The embroidery thread is as white as anything the Henrick’s can afford, and Gwen has been working on it for weeks, her labor a wedding gift to the bride-to-be. The stitching is some of her finest, delicate flowers in the soft white thread, birds and a few trees scattered in among them.

“This is beautiful.” Merlin’s fingers trace a bird, following the bird’s life cycle from the youth, through the bird of it’s young, to a tree that symbolizes it’s death. It had been a good idea, but she hadn’t thought anyone would notice.

Elyan probably told him about it.

“It’s a shame you won’t have time to make something like this for yourself.” Merlin smiles up at her like that’s not the most tragic thing he could have told her.

She turns her glare to Elyan, because she can’t very well glare at a man she’s just met. Elyan refuses to meet her eyes and she knows that at the very least he’s told this complete stranger that he’s looking for a wife for his sister, and at worst he’s offered her up to him.

She wants to call him a bastard, but she holds her tongue. She’ll let it all seethe inside for a while, and yell at Elyan when this man leaves in the morning.

“Times are hard.” Is all she says before taking the basket back to it’s corner and going back to the stew.

Usually Elyan helps her cook, but he’s entertaining their guest, and probably trying to show off how skilled she is, how domestic she is, all the wonderful wifely thing that she can do.

She hates her brother in that moment. It heats her skin and makes her nose twitch, her shoulders tense and her fingers keep losing their grip on the spoon because she wants to throw it at him.

She wants to throw a tantrum, is more like it. She is almost 18 though, and she can’t afford to gain a reputation like that. Throwing spoons, cursing at guests, those are the sorts of thing that leave women spinsters, and she doesn’t have that option anymore. Elyan is selling their home, and if she doesn’t get married she’ll be homeless right along with him.

Maybe that would be preferable, even if Elyan would hate it. He’d never abandon her, leave her alone on the streets. At least then they’d be together. Elyan is barely 19 as it is. How ready could he possibly be to be alone?

“Guinevere?” Elyan’s voice is amused, concerned, when he calls for her, but it startles her just the same, and she drops the spoon in the stew. It’s too short for the pot and she curses under her breath when it sinks beneath the stew. She’ll have to fish it out now, and Elyan is calling her again, and what does he want, what could he possibly want!

“Here,” Merlin puts his hand on her shoulder and gently, softly, coaxes her back from the stove. He smiles at her, even as she feels tears starting to well up and she’s so angry with him, and Elyan and the world. “Let me.” He mutters something softly under his breath, and spoon… floats out of pot, settles back against the side. Her mouth falls opened, awed at the spectacle, but Merlin just smiles, shrugs like this isn’t a giant, terrible secret that he should be keeping.

Magic is illegal in Camelot.

She looks at Elyan who levels her with a look that she can’t quite read. At once it tells her to be quiet, and to accept it, and to trust him. She swallows back her fear and nods, offering a half smile to Merlin before grabbing a clean towel to pull the hot spoon from the pot, dunking it in dish washing bowel to get some of food off the handle.

Merlin sits back down and continues whatever conversation he was having with Elyan while Gwen gets out flour. She hadn’t wanted to bake a bread, but now she needs something to do with her hands and she needs something to settle her stomach. She was having trouble swallowing, or she’d have gotten herself some water, maybe even a bit of ale to settle her nerves. She feels lucky that her knees don’t give way beneath her.

A magic user. Elyan had brought a magic user into their home, told him about how he was trying to marry Gwen off. The man had blatantly brandished magic right there at her stovetop and hadn’t even batted an eyelash.

Elyan was trying to get them both killed.

Personally, Gwen had always believed the rules around magic users were far too harsh and the consequences overblown, but she had never imagined that she would be harboring one. If this man is wanted for magic use, and they come looking for him here, they’ll kill all three of them. She can’t help anxiously glancing over her shoulder at Elyan, whose face is relaxed and posture so at ease considering they could very well be in mortal danger.

She sees a flash of red, her father’s lifeless body covered in blood, having to re-dirt and pack the floor of the forge to remove the stains. She remembers the merciless way the King killed their father for demanding a fair price for a sword and wonders how much they’ll all be tortured for Merlin being here if they come, when they come. Of course they’ll come. Camelot’s ruler is cruel and hateful and they will come and kill him, and them, and maybe everyone in the village.

“Gwen,” Elyan’s hand is on hers, darker than hers, like their father, and she looks at it and sees him, for a moment, sees her father touching her hand and telling her everything will be okay after mother died, promising her a bright future, squeezing it in joy-

“Gwen,” Elyan says again, lower this time. “Guinevere, I need you to let go of this.”

She looks from his hand to her own beneath it. She’s holding a knife dangerously close to her own hand, like she meant to cut her palm. She doesn’t remember even grabbing this knife. She’d been grabbing the flour, to make bread. She was going to make bread. Why did she have a knife-

“Guinevere.”

“I hate it when you use my full name.” She whispered, her hand still clutching the knife, knuckles becoming pale from the tight grip.

“I know. Can you let go of the knife please.”

“They’ll kill us, if they find him here.” She can’t stop herself form saying. Her mind is gone, somewhere else, the only thing left the part of her that had worked like a dog day and night for two years to keep them afloat.

“No one is looking for him.” Gently, Elyan takes the knife from her hand by the handle, setting it aside. She finally feels the sensation return to her body, her limbs feel heavy and her head feels empty and she needs to sit, she needs to sit.

Elyan takes her by the waist when she starts to fall, and guides her to the table, sitting her down.

“I’m not wanted for my practice. No one knows about it, except you two and old friend from back home.” Merlin speaks quietly, but Gwen doesn’t look at him, watches Elyan as he tends to the stew.

Gwen realizes that her body is shaking. She’s sitting still but her whole body is shaking, even her eyes, at the thought that she might lose Elyan.

“It’s been a hard couple of years for us. Please forgive her.” Elyan says from the stove, and Gwen doesn’t even speak up to defend herself. Her hand is shaking where it rests of the table, and she jumps nearly out of her seat when another hand, not her brothers, rests over it.

He is so pale for someone who claims to be a traveler. Is all that she can think. “Guinevere. I have a potion that helps relieve pains of the mind. Would you like some?”

“No, we don’t-“

“She’ll take it.” Elyan spoke over her, and she has at least the mental soundness to look over at him and glare.

He says nothing back, just nods to Merlin to confirm what he’s said. Merlin goes to a bag that Gwen hadn’t noticed, a beautiful shade of deep green and pulls out a little glass vial from it. He unstoppers it and puts a couple drops in the glass of water beside her hand and swirls it around.

“A full dose would put you to sleep. This is just to take the edge off, calm your nerves. I’m sorry if I scared you.”

Gwen’s lips purse, and she feels like she wants to speak, but she doesn’t know what to say. What could she say? This man is helping her, which is kind of him, but he’s putting them in danger.

“I won’t marry you.” Gwen says without reaching for the cup in front of her. “Whatever Elyan has told you.”

“He said you’d say that. That’s why I don’t intend to marry you.” Merlin smiled softly at her, and she looked at her brother, confused, now.

“Merlin is a physician. He’s been looking for an apprentice for some time.”

“I don’t know anything about medicine, or potions.” She looked at the medicated cup warily.

“Apprentice usually implies that I teach you.” Merlin tries to laugh with her, but she doesn’t laugh along.

“Magic is illegal in Camelot.” We could both be executed goes unsaid, but is still heard clearly in the room.

“I’m very careful. I never use magic unless I have to, and up until a little while ago, only two people alive even knew I had magic. Now it’s up to three.” He smiles, but it doesn’t make Gwen feel any better.

“You’re going to sell me to this man.” Gwen asked her brother, her fear making her far more candid than she usually would’ve been.

“I’m not selling you to anyone.” Elyan’s voice is tense, and Merlin pushes the potion laced cup toward Gwen again.

Gwen can’t decide if she should drink it or not. She doesn’t want to, but if they’ve paid for it, it feels wasteful.

“I’m just looking for someone to help me. It’s nothing nefarious. Most of what I do is legitimate medicine, science based, not magic based.”

“What about the part that isn’t ‘most of it?’” Gwen crossed her arms over her chest and leaned away from him in her chair.

Merlin should be caught out, but instead of looking upset, he smiles. “Elyan said you were quick.”

“And a good pupil. Mrs. Henrick even taught her to read.”

Merlin raised his eyebrow. “A woman who can read isn’t exactly uncontroversial.”

“Reading is not a crime punishable by death.” Death by fire, on a pike like terrible horrible criminal. They don’t even kill you first, just set your body aflame.

“No, I suppose it’s not.” Merlin leaned forward a bit. “You’re very practical. Stubborn. You’ll keep my on my toes, keep me from getting complacent.”

“So you’ll take her on?” Elyan asked from the stove, and Gwen scoffs, outraged.

“Yes. Assuming she’ll have me. We’ll have to get you a horse.” Merlin goes back to his bag and pulls out parchment, a tiny glass bottle of ink and a pen. “Traveling clothes, I assume, a good pair of riding boots.” He opens up the bottle and dips the pen, using nicer penmanship than Gwen has ever seen outside of a book to pen the list. “Warm undergarments. A bed roll. I’m sorry the road won’t always be very comfortable, but I do have a home in Ealdor where I stay during the winter. It’s very comfortable at least.”

Gwen looks from Elyan to Merlin, and back, but she doesn’t catch either of their eyes, both too caught up in what they’re doing to look at her, to even notice her.

“Was I ever going to get a say in this?” Gwen asked, her throat dry and cracking, tears welling in her eyes at being completely ignored and pushed over.

“Gwen,” Elyan said, stopping stirring the soup and looking at her. “You’ve made it very clear you don’t want to marry. I can’t support you after the end of the summer and you have to have somewhere to go. Merlin has very graciously offered to give you a job and housing in exchange for working with him. He’s not asking to marry you doesn’t even want to marry you, he just wants to be able to tell people you’re married so no one gets suspicious of a man and woman traveling together, so you can keep your honor. Maybe once you’re on the road, you’ll meet someone you love who you can marry and make a family with.”

Gwen can hardly believe what she’s hearing. She isn’t getting a choice, is what he’s saying. She’s not getting any sort of choice in how the rest of her life goes, and he’s acting like she should be grateful.

“How dare you.” She said, teeth gritted. “You didn’t even ask me first.”

“I can’t afford to keep asking you, Gwen, or you’ll be out on the streets, homeless and begging. I won’t let that happen to you.”

“Oh, and I suppose you’ll be just fine on your own? What’s so wrong with traveling together, Elyan. You’re fine with me traveling with a strange man with gods only know what intentions, but heavens forbid I travel with my brother who loves me?!” Gwen stands, but she’s shaky and has to use the table to catch herself. She can’t even stand up straight she’s so upset. Merlin gets up and comes around the table, but she back away from him, angry that he would even presume to come near her. She stumbles and Merlin waves his hand and a chair is beneath her, keeping her from hitting the ground.

“Stop that!” Gwen yells and she gets up again, more successfully this time. “Stop it!” She yelled again when Elyan tried to grab for her. “You can’t just dictate my life for me Elyan, I’m almost 18, and I deserve a say in how I live, where I live, and who I live with. I’m not going to risk my life for a stranger. You don’t even know this man. What if he doesn’t want a wife because he’ll just take from me what he would a wife? Do you even care about that? Did it even occur to you? I’m not a dog that you can give to the neighbor when it’s time for you to go away, Elyan, I’m a person.”

“You think I don’t know that?” Elyan raises his voice now, in his sister’s face like he hasn’t been since they were children. “I need to know that you’re safe, and Merlin owes me a life debt. He will keep you safe. He will protect you when I can’t.”

“Why not? Why can’t you protect me, Elyan? Say it!” She puffs her shoulders up, her lips thin and her jaw aching where her teeth clash together and grind, helpless and pulsingly angry.

“Because I’m going to kill the king!” Elyan finally admits it, and Gwen is satisfied at the admission, but equally as horrified to know that her prediction was correct. “I’m going to kill the bastard that murdered our father in cold blood over 300! I’m going to kill him.” The last words are soft again, and Gwen feels her anger become cold, abate a bit.

Their fathers death has always bothered him. Of course, it bothered Gwen as well, and she had been angry too, but not like Elyan had been. Elyan had always regretted losing that fight, not being able to avenge their father’s death. She knew that he hated Uther, but this… she was afraid for him.

“It’s almost impossible to kill a king. Greater men than you have tried.” Gwen whispered, but Elyan shook his head.

“I have a plan, but they’ll catch me. I need you to be far away, and safe.” He takes Guinevere’s shoulders in his hands and looks her straight in the eyes. “I’ll visit you every couple of years for a while. By the time it’s done you’ll have nice, sweet, beautiful children, and a husband, and you’ll be settled. But for now, I need you to go with him.”

Gwen swallows hard. How can he ask this of her? To abandon her brother? It just doesn’t feel like an option.

“You’ll be all alone.” She finally said, tears welling up in her eyes. “It’s always been us. You’ll… who will you have, out there, on your own?”

“I’ll have my memory of you, and mum, and father. Please Gwennie.”

“You swear he won’t ask me to marry him?”

“Not unless you want him to.” Elyan nodded, and Gwen sniffed, wiping at her eyes with her sleeves.

“And he’s honorable?”

“One of the most honorable men I’ve ever known.”

“How did you meet him?” She asked, swallowing around the lump in her throat again. She feels insane, even thinking about agreeing to this, but Elyan was on a death wish of a mission, and Gwen couldn’t go with him. Being a physicians assistant did sound a lot better than being married to a man she didn’t love.

“He was attacked by bandits in the woods a year before father died. I helped him fight them off, took him to his horse so he could patch himself up. He promised me he owed me a favor.”

“A life debt.” Merlin added. “I would’ve died if not for your brother. I promise, I only want to help the both of you.”

“Why have I never met him before.”

“He has magic. I thought it better he not be involved with you.”

“You knew about his magic?” She looked over her shoulder at the man who was smiling at her, far too warmly for a man she’d only met today.

“I removed an iron cuff they were keeping on him. It was practically red hot.”

“Magic and Iron don’t mix.” Merlin explained. “It dampens my abilities. They got it on me and I was basically powerless.”

Gwen took a deep breath, and then nodded, final in her decision. “I want one.”

“One what?” Elyan asked, but when she looked back at Merlin, she thought he already knew.

“I want an iron cuff, or something iron that I can put on you, in case you try something. Elyan may trust you, but how men behave amongst themselves and how they behave with women are not always corresponding.”

Merlin… smiled, of all things, and with another wave of his hands, his parchment and quill were in his hands again.

“Done. An Iron ring, I think. So you can always wear it.”

Gwen looked at her brother, who was smiling far too much for someone who had just given his sister away to a stranger.

“Fine. But I still don’t like it.”

Elyan pulled her into a hug and she was powerless to resist it. She wanted to be angry, but she was just exhausted, empty from the emotional whiplash she’d just experienced.

“I still think you should take that potion. To settle your nerves.” Merlin said.

She looked down at the cup wearily but then, as a sign of trust, picked it up and drank it’s contents down, eyes never leaving Merlin’s.

“Thank you.” She said, and Merlin smiled.

“I think dinner smells ready. Let’s eat, shall we? You can ask me any question you still have, if you like.”

—

Gwen, Elyan and Merlin burn down most of a candle that night, talking through the logistics of Gwen’s stay with Merlin. Everything from sleeping arrangements, to supplies, to clothes is set to parchment agreed to. Gwen racks her brain for anything and everything she can think of to make him agree to in front of Elyan, who he owes a life debt to. Gwen knows that Merlin owes her nothing, and she doesn’t trust that he’ll agree to anything more than what she he does right now.

“I think that’s everything.” Merlin says, smiling wide despite the bags forming beneath his eyes. “I’m sorry you’re both ready to sleep, and so am I. Thank you again for your hospitality.”

“Thank you for taking care of the washing.” Elyan laugh, looking over his shoulder to the dishes had been washed and dried by Merlin’s magic. It had been remarkable to witness, even though Gwen’s skin had crawled with the fear of being caught the entire time.

“It’s the least I could do after you fed me. I’m going to go and check on my horse one last time.” This is just a way to let them talk alone, Gwen is sure, and she appreciates it.

She goes to put on her night dress behind the screen and Elyan changes as well. The night air is still cool, not yet the sticky summer heat that will soon come. So much for married by summers end.

“Thank you for agreeing to this, Gwen. It means the world to me.” Elyan smiled at her where she was climbing into bed.

“Don’t thank me. I didn’t really have a choice.”

“In life you always have a choice. The you’ve made is for the best.” He plants a knee on the bed so he can kiss her forehead and then goes to turn the candle out. Merlin takes this as his cue to come in. He settles on the cot in the kitchen without tripping or fumbling, which irritates Gwen just a little because she’s lived in this house all her life and still sometime stubs her toe on the kitchen table in the dark.

“Good night, Gwen, Elyan,” Merlin said to both of them, and Elyan returned the sentiment, but Gwen did not, huddling down into the covers.

Maybe she had had a choice, but her choices were limited, severely, by Elyan’s will. As she laid there, trying to fall asleep, she remembered what mother had told her once, about how excited she’d been to marry her father, and how much her mother and father had loved each other. She thinks about how her father won’t be there to hand her off to her future husband, as silly that tradition seemed, and even Elyan might not be there for it. Who would stand beside her at her wedding, if she married, if Elyan was dead?

Maybe she should get married, if only so Elyan can be there.

But to who? Who could she possibly marry? She wasn’t in love with anyone, didn’t even really fancy anyone. There weren’t that many people to fancy, in all honesty. Pickings were slim, and she liked plenty of the boys in the village, but not nearly enough to marry them.

She always had a choice, Elyan was right. She chose this, even if Elyan orchestrated it. She would just have to live with it.

Traveling with an illegal sorcerer was better than being married, at least.

#pbau proper #pbau #lysa's pbau #mergwen #bbc merlin #merlin #elyan #gwen pendragon #forgot to tag #albionparty21 #pbau au proper

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starr-fall-knight-rise · 4 years ago

Text

Emp-ire “Anti-Alliance.”

So my schedule at work has been really weird lately, so I apologize for the weird posting schedule and if things seem a little cramped. I am trying to keep upon my posting, but it has been rather difficult recently.

I hope you all enjoy :)

He hadn’t thought that Spartans were normally meant for stealth with their red cloaks, bright red feathers, and pockmarked golden shields, but he had been wrong before. The ground below them was rocky even as they ducked and dodged through the large boulder field that marked the edge of a wide white salt flat.

From a distance it wouldn’t have looked all that interesting accept for familiar pockmarks in the ground, which he recognized to be evidence left behind from the landing struts of shuttles. His head was still reeling over the idea that there was any sort of Anti-GA resistance. Yeah he knew there were the isolationists and others who did not agree with their cooperation with alien lifeforms, but the idea that people would go to such lengths as to sell weapons to each other was nearly mind boggling.

He would have understood if the government were at all…. Oppressive, and granted there had been a few times when the GA hadn’t gotten it right, especially when it came to the whole LFIL business, but things had been rectified, and there were good relations all across the galaxy. Is only other thought is that maybe the people blamed the GA for the invasion of Earth, though how that could have been called an invasion was beyond him.

Most of the Burg had died within the first few minutes of landing on the planet, and there had only been one reported casualty in the entirety of Mericanda, that being a frail old lady who had seen the Burg from a distance and died of a heart attack related to shock, which he hardly thought counted.

Things were going good for them. In the history of humanity things had honestly never been better, so why someone would want to go and screw that up was beyond him.

But you couldn’t make everyone happy.

He slid into place next to James, the king of Sparta, and Xanthia, the queen, A they poked their heads over the rocks.

James had pulled off his helmet and handed it to Xanthia as he peered over the rock.

“What are we doing here?” Adam muttered as he glanced between a set of rocks and towards the deserted salt field. His bare knee ached from where he knelt on the partial gravel. The leather skirts may have been nice for the mediteranian climate, but he still missed wearing pants. He switched to his other knee, the fake one, so he might be more comfortable.

“My operatives in Athens recently sent me a report detailing this as the place where the anti-alliance ships have been landing.”

“Spies? But that doesn’t seem-”

“Not very Spartan of me? Well Adam, just because we took some inspiration from Ancient sparta doesn’t mean we do everything exactly like they did, besides Spartans were at war far more often than us?”

“Speaking of which, do you guys actually fight anyone?”

“Under GA law, we generally don’t, but the Anti-alliance scumbags work outside the law, and based on some of their actions, which have in the past included slave trafficking, I have taken it upon myself to dispatch a few of them. And no one has gone to the government about my activities because if they did, they would have to explain what they were doing in the first place.’

He gripped his spear tighter, ‘And as technical royalty, I am allowed, by law, mind you to police my own planet.”

Ramirez had schooted up next to them crouched low, using his spear to help him crawl over the rocks.

James nodded to him and he nodded back.

“What are you planning on doing.”

“Well, first of all, since you are here, I want to give you proof of what I have been saying all along, and then maybe you will understand better what is going on here. I want you to see that I’m not just some kind of tyrant trying to get rid of people who disagree with me.” he pointed towards the salt flat, “I really believe that these people need to be removed, but It would take a lot off my conscience if you knew that as well.”

Queen Xanthea raised her head, lips pressing together slightly.

Adam had a feeling that even if he did agree, the queen wasn’t likely to stop anytime soon.

The troop of spartan soldiers crouched behind the rocks with a stiff breeze blowing through them.

Adam had grown immune to mild temperature discomfort since his training had begun, and barely even noticed the early morning chill that rolled over him. Glancing out the corner of his eye, he noticed Ramirez and another one of the young spartans crouching close together, almost touching, sharting body heat.

He shook his head slightly.

Leave it to Ramirez to land a fling with a Spartan.

He turned his head back to the salt field, and was surprised to find movement on the far side.

The Spartans grew very quiet as they watched across the open plante to where a group of people had just emerged from the rocks.

A few of them were dressed like simple athenians in their tunics or togas, but there were a few more dressed in flight suits, looking very out of place on the Grecian landscape. Adam cocked his head trying to hear better, and watched as the king of the Spartains tilted his head and pressed into the skin below his ear.

Adam forgot that the Spartan King also had a military grade translation implant and data chip installed just like everyone else.

And also that he had one too, and therefore could amplify the sound.

He followed the Spartain’s lead and was just able to pick up the tail end of a conversation.

“We are moving them to the market on A1-36.”

“The GA has presence there don’t they/”

“It’s just a supply waystop for them, they don’t actually go in.”

“You know how the GA feels about slave trade.”

“I don’t give a flying fuck what the GA thinks about the slave trade, without it we wouldnt be able to pay the damn Kree.” He snorted, “Little bastards upped their price after the war, and now we are having to pay them double for being involved.”

“Why are we even doing this? We haven’t gotten anywhere, too small time to really even make a dent.”

Their leader turned to glower at them, “All big operations started out small-time. Now shut the hell up, and stop bitching. We have work to do.”

There was a roaring in the sky overhead, and the group turned their eyes up towards the great blue vastness as they watched a silver distortion roll like a hazy wave through the atmosphere. Adam didn’t even realize what it was until the shuttle touched down, and noted the reflective skin covering it’s hull.

It was a pretty clever if low-budget trick, though they didn’t need anything more high-tech on a planet that didn’t really seem to use technology in the first place.

The door to the shuttle hissed open, and a group of men stepped out dressed in black flight suits.

A few of them carried weapons, though the vast majority of them were armed with only batons.

While the distribution of firearms was common on earth, and an estimated 65% of the population owned one for personal use, the ability to get your hands on a human grade firearm in space was a little harder.

The GA had strict regulations on the movement of weapons through intergalactic airspace, and you had to have permits out the ass to even own one.

However, since when did laws ever stop criminals?

He doubted that any of these men actually had a permit, which was an arrestable violation to begin with, though he had more than enough probable cause to arrest these men anyway.

He stayed put however, and waited for the scene to unfold before them as the group of men stepped down onto the salt, their boots crunching against the ground looking around nervously at the rocks.

If these men had had any REAL military equipment on them, their shuttle would have been able to detect the heat signatures of the company of Spartans crouched in the rocks, but even so, no one had noticed them, and they wanted with bated breath as the group of men met up with each other.

“Parked her in low orbit, sir.”

“Good, then let's get things going before anyone has the chance to notice. The damned Neo-Spartan bastards have been giving me trouble. I have had to change shuttle sites three times in the past month. I have a feeling those assholes have spies with the Athenians, though I can’t prove anything.”

“There are no spies, that’s not how the spartans work.” One of the Athenians piped in.

The man turned to look at the speaker, “Then your men are just Fucking incompetent because how else do the spartans seem to know where we are at every turn.” He kicked at the salt sending up a wave of white flecks into the air, “The Damned Spartan King and his and his stupid skirt-wearing, oily, dog shagging bastards showing up every damn time I try to do anything around here.”

The group stood around watching as their leader threw his little fit.

Behind the stones, the skit-wearing oily bastards grinned a little at each other.

Adam bared his teeth.

He already didn’t like this guy, though the man didn’t exactly make it difficult to hate him.

“Whatever, just get them on the dam shuttle so they aren’t my problem anymore. All the wining and complaining and bitching. You were stupid enough to get caught now they can suffer the consequences.”

Adam had met psychopaths in the past, and even though the last one had totally tried to kill him, he was still pretty sure he liked that one better. This guy was much, much worse.

He talked too much.

And that was coming from Adam, the kind of talking too much.

His hand tightened around the shaft of his spear as he moved into position with the other spartans.

The kind nodded back towards the rest of the group, and then quietly engaged the shielding over the metal faces of their shiels. They had spears and the enemy had bullets, not that that would matter once they got within stabbing range, but until ten, it was a good idea to have some cover.

There was a soft shuffling from the other side of the valley, and a group of chained prisoners were walked out onto the salt. Most of them were alien, Tesraki, and Finnari, but a few of them were human. Adam’s stomach clenched as he noted that most of the human prisoners were wide eyed young women.

His teeth ground together in anger, and beside him he could feel the tensing of muscles from the other Spartans as they responded similarly.

James cracked his knuckles and Xanthia pulled her short sword.

That was an odd thing about her, she didn’t seem all that interested in the use of spears, but he HAD seen her use her two short swords before, and boy was it a sight.

These men were in for a wold of hurt.

Adam looked to James who nodded back at him.

This was clearly enough proof for them.

The Spartan’s shifted as one unit to the balls of their feet, pulling out their spears and adjusting their shields on their left arms.

Adam scooted up next to James on his left, and Ramirez covered Adam’s left in return.

Their shields hummed softly with the faint blue pusing of the shields.

James raised his spear, and the men waited on bated breath as the prisoners were brought out further onto the salt. The men with guns were turned away, their focus pulled to the chained prisoners who whimpered pitifully as they were dragged over the salt.

James thrust his spear into the air.

The men did not let out a war cry like they had practiced on so many occasions before, but they went running as silently as possible at full tilt across the salt, keeping in tight formation with each other as they did.

The prisoners noticed them first, and then the gunman allerted to their rapid approach by the clattering of shields and spears. They turned with shocked expressions on their faces just in time to be bowled to the ground by a wave of bodies and metal.

Adam rammed into one of the gunmen hearing the subsonic crack of the rifle as a bullet tore into the salt near his feet. He slammed the man to the ground with his shield. And then raise it just in time to deflect another bullet. Before he could take care of the next man, Xanthia was already there. The cything of her sword caught the man in the wrist completely severing his hand, then she kicked him hard in the chest causing him to fly back over the stone. Blood pooled in crimson puddles against the white salt as the group of Spartans hurried to surround the cowering prisoners.

Adam put his back to them and crouched low behind his shield spear at the ready.

He looked around in the confusion, and saw the slimy little rat running the operation as he clawed his way up the nearest incline and away from the fighting.

He bared his teeth in anger, before turning to shout to someone to take care of him, but it was just at that moment that a horn blast somewhere in the distance.

The group of them turned to look…. As a wave of Athenian soldiers came roaring over the hill.

***

“SHIELDS!” He heard James shout, and crouched down, interlocking the large round shield with the men on his left and right. Behind him, Ramirez was suddenly at his shoulder spear at the ready. Another man behind him locked a shield in palace over Adam’s.

At their backs, the mall group of prisoners cowered together in fear as they were surrounded by the spartan shield wall.

“BRACE1” James shouted, and Adam dug his sandals into the dirt.

The first wave of Athenian soldiers crashed against them, and the shield wall racked back absorbing the impact.

“PUSH!” Came the shout and with a heave of his legs and his back Adam slammed the shield forward pushing the Athenian soldiers back a good two feet, a few of them stumbled to the ground. He opened the shield just enough for Ramirez to lunge forward, stabbing outward at the first line of Athenian soldiers catching one in the stomach before pulling back behind the shield wall.

They turtles up again as the Athenians slammed against them one more time, and again they held, Throwing them back with a powerful push which sent them sprawling to the ground.

The Athenian line broke.

WIth screams and cries of fear the scattered as the Spartans broke from their shield wall and charged into the frey.

Adam and Ramirez roared out together.

Adam clobbered one of the Athenians with his shield knocking him to the ground for Ramirez to finish off. He thrust his spear forward and waist height, impaling one man straight through the stomach and out his back. The Athenian looked almost surprised as he was thrown to the ground, a hole torn straight through him.

Adam had no time to think about what he had just done, as he stepped over the man’s body to meet another.

This time his spear caught the man in the throat. He knocked the body to the side, and use the reverse end of his spear to turn and take a man who had been sneaking up behind Ramirez.

Blood painted the white ground red as the short pitched battle came to a head.

James and Xanthia fell into step beside Ramirez and Adam and together they washed through the battlefield like a tidal wave of destruction. Adam caught one man’s swords on the haft of his spear, and james darted in, taking the man between the ribs with the point of his own weapon. Behind them Xanthai and Ramirez held their backs, chasing the enemy away from the cowering prisoners.

Adam took a cut high on his cheek feeling warm blood run in slow trickles down his face to drizzle onto his collarbone.

The shield protected his unarmed torso as he roared into another line of men batting them back.

After all the raining he had done with the spartans, these men were barely worth a match, especially since he had trained in the spear against creatures with four arms instead of two.

An athenian charged at him, and he ducked low, catching them in the upper legs and waist with his shield before heaving with his legs and back, sending them up and over his head with a wail and straight into Ramirez’s spear.

He was surrounded by at least three men in the second moment.

One was blocked with his shield, one with his spear, and he kicked the other directly in the chest sanding him spinning backward and away.

He plowed painfully into the ground.

Adam ducked to the side as the man’s sword cut past his arm, cutting his friend in the thigh. He let the spear drop through his hands, caught it near the end and drew the spike right into the man’s face.

There was a brutal crack but he didn’t stop to look as he spun, pulled back his spear, catching it on the balance point in the middle and threw it with unerring accuracy into the chest of the second man no ten feet away.

He fell to the ground sputtering as Adam ran forward and tore the spear from his chest.

He spun, but there was no one there to fight.

Lowering his spear, he stopped to look around at the carnage and blood that drenched the ground.

The Spartans were finishing off the Athenians who had attacked them and Adam lifted his head to find Xanthia dragging the rat from back down the hill. He had a horrible gash across his face, and was bleeding profusely down his front. Adam tried not to look at the bodies that littered the ground below his feet and hurried to join James ashe marched forward,

Xanthia threw the man to the ground, and Adam and James both stepped over the body as he lay in the dirt.

“Been a hot minute since I last saw you.” James said casually as he bent don to look the rat in the eye.

The man snarled at him.

James shook his head, and then pointed at Adam, “Do you know this man?”

He turned his head to look up at Adam. At first there was no recognition, and then his eyes widened in shock and horror.

“Exactly, now the GA knows about your little group, and sanctioned what we have done here today. You have taken slaves which is the highest offence of the GA. You attacked A GA officer, and I would continue adding to the list, but we might be here all day.”

The man just stared at him with his cold dark eyes.

James leaned a little closer spear in one hand.

A cry of pain broke through their little conversation, and they all turned to look in that direction unconsciously.

Adam gave the credit to his mechanical eye for catching the movement.

The rat had taken the opportunity and launched forward drawing a small blade from his belt, aimed straight at James’s throat. Adam, reacting as fast as he could dove forward, shoving James out of the way.

He staggered and hit the ground. The little blade missed its mark but impeded itself high in Adam’s shoulder.

His adrenaline was pumping so hard that he barely even noticed as he turned and slugged the rat in the face. He hit the ground, eyes rolled back in his head. Xanthia reacted only a moment after him. Her swords to the man’s throat but he was already incapacitated.

James turned over into an upright sitting position, staring back at Adam with a look of surprise.

Adam glanced down at his shoulder, and here the small two inch knife was sticking.

It would have been devastating had the man had caught James in the throat, but as it was Adam would probably only need a few stitches.

Xanthia kicked the man in the ribs, and he grunted in pain.

James slowly stood, “You saved my life.”

Adam shrugged, “You would have done the same.” he rested his spear over his shoulder, “Either way, I will want to make a call to the GA and let them know what happened. This is a bit more serious than I had expected.’

James nodded in agreement.

***

Adam and Ramirez stood at the edge of the dock watching as the boat slowly drifted into position.

A group of Spartans stood around them.

Ramirez was off saying goodby to his “friend” and Adam was standing with Xanthia and James.

“It was a pleasure to fight with you, Admiral. It’s a real pity that we can’t keep you and your Marine longer.”

He nodded in agreement, “I wish we could stay as well.” He clasped the other man’s hand, “Keep in touch, it would be a pleasure to fight with you again, plus, I have a couple of aliens I think you would like to meet.”

James smiled, “Any alien that trained you how to fight like that would be welcome.”

He paused and then, Dropped the shield from his arm.

He held his spear and shield out to Adam, “Here, take these.”

Adam looked at him in surprise, at the well worn haft of the spear, and the dented golden metal of the shield, “I, but your weapons…”

“I can fight with any spear and shield, but you saved my life. Maybe one day, these will save yours and we can call each other even.”

The boat docked.

Ramirez walked over to stand with Adam and together the two of them stepped onto the deck.

Behind them the spartans raised their weapons punching them into the air three times with matching shouts as the King of Sparta saluted them.

Ramirez and Adam saluted back as the rowers began to pull the boat away from the dock.

He was going to miss those men and women.

But now he had to leave, with the knowledge that the anti-alliance was out there.

Hopefully at least, there would be men like the Neo-spartans and their king to keep men like that at bay.

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karlyfr13s · 4 years ago

Text

Oathkeeper Chapter 2

It was supposed to be a CS one-shot, but then the CSMM crew got ahold of me and now we’re in multi-chapter mode. Thanks to the ladies for their inspiration, enabling, and cheering me on. Looking at you @teamhook, @caught-in-the-filter, @hollyethecurious, @gingerpolyglot (tell me if you want added, and coach the newbie in where these actually belong).

A HUGE thank you to @veryverynotgood who is the most radiant beta and gives me flails that keep me going through the self-doubt.

Links in case you missed Chapter 1 or prefer to read on ao3

Note: the rating is now M due to violent imagery.

Killian’s first week in Storybrooke was unconventional and more than a little confusing. Everyone in the whole bloody town seemed related, or at least so interconnected there may as well be blood involved; it drew attention to him and he spent most days certain he was being watched.

Certainly there were fewer eyes on him than on the young Lost Boy, Felix, and for that Killian was grateful. He observed the woman everyone called Granny as she put the lad to work with a nearly endless list of chores, always under her watchful, scrutinizing eye. In want of conversation one evening, he’d inquired about the choice to take on someone such as Felix. That had earned him a derisive snort and an eye-roll that rivaled Emma Swan’s when Granny explained in no uncertain terms that she was well-equipped for the job.

“Listen, Captain,” she leaned on the bar as he sipped a rum, “if I can raise Ruby through puberty as a damn wolf, I can handle one scrappy Lost Boy. What he needs is a strong guiding hand, and a good dose of responsibility--that Pan let those kids run wild.” Killian tipped his glass to her at that assessment, knowing all too clearly how the lads were deceived and used throughout their time in Neverland. “Structure, Hoo--it’s Killian, right?” she amended quickly. “Kids need structure and routine. You’d do well to remember that.”

Not for the first time, Killian wondered exactly how much Granny overheard and knew as she watched her patrons come and go. In fact, she was the only one in town who referred to him by his given name, most simply opting for Hook or Captain if they were being pleasant. Or ‘the pirate’ if they happen to be Emma’s father, he added. His ponderance was abruptly interrupted when the door crashed open and an exasperated looking Emma quickly crossed to the bar and sank down one stool from his own.

“This one calls for a whisky on the rocks, Granny,” she huffed, casting a sidelong glance at Killian’s own glass. “You too, huh? Must be going around today.” He watched as she shucked her red leather jacket, tossing it aside on the barstool between them and he gave her a moment, offering a quick clink of his glass once her own libation arrived.

“To what do we owe the pleasure?” Killian kept his voice light, noting the tension in the set of her shoulders and jaw.

She heaved a sigh and he made a valiant effort to focus on her stunning green eyes rather than the assets her movements showcased in that moment. “The short version? I’m sick of my mother,” she tripped on the word, “trying to be my life coach. I’m tired of inane ‘loitering’ reports from the surliest dwarf, and I cannot seem to get--” her momentum was immediately interrupted by the door and a sudden call across the diner.

“Ems, there you are!”

“--a single minute of quiet,” Emma finished lowly while Neal sauntered over and leaned against the counter, placing himself between Killian and her.

“So, I was thinking we could grab dinner. You know, you, me and Henry? Or maybe just you and me if Regina has--”

“Neal, I’ve had a long day. I am going to enjoy this drink, maybe a second, and then I am eating whatever I rummage out of the pantry at Mary Margaret’s since she and David are out on a date.”

“So you have the place to yourself?”

Killian understood the insinuation and clenched his jaw. He started counting backward from ten while he listened to Emma try to redirect Neal’s plans, and when he heard the other man’s second attempt to garner an invitation he reset the clock and started the count at twenty. Perhaps she cares for him, he reminded himself. She is tired and had a difficult day, but that does not mean she has chosen not to be with--

Her voice was suddenly raised and Killian felt like he was about four steps behind the conversation as he snapped to attention on the words she spat at the man across from her.

“Just go-- go, Neal. This isn’t happening. Not tonight. Not tomorrow. It is not happening .” Whatever expression she held in that moment must have been truly glorious to earn Neal’s melodramatic scoff as he stormed out the diner and slammed the door behind him.

Granny simply poured a healthy splash of whisky in Emma’s glass in reply before shuffling back to the kitchen as she had witnessed the whole interaction mere steps from Killian, who just now was actively working to control both his expression and the thoughts wheeling through his mind at her parting shot. What exactly was not happening between them? Where did that leave him?

Killian glanced over at Emma, her eyes ablaze as if challenging him to comment on the interaction. “Darts are quiet,” he offered congenially, smiling what he considered his most winning grin.

That earned him a quick bark of laughter. “And a little violent,” she smirked.

“Aye, that too, Swan.”

She held up her glass and they shared their second silent toast of the evening. “I could use a little of both,” she added as she got up, glass in hand and the beginnings of a smile playing at the corner of her mouth.

“I hear rumor they even sell food at this establishment,” Killian pressed his luck a bit as they collected the two sets of darts and set up.

“You don’t say?” She shook her head at him and he watched her consider the offer. “Loser buys?”

“Of course, love.” He sketched her a bow, flourishing his hand and making a show of it to cover up his surprise.

“Not your love,” she retorted, sinking a bullseye on her first try while Killian considered how grateful he was that Granny accepted doubloons. Where had she learned to play like this?

...

Granny hollered last call only moments after Emma bid Killian goodnight, a lightness to her steps as he watched her go. “Looks like that went well,” Granny called over as she wiped down the last table.

“Aye,” he tossed Granny a wink, “and she stayed for three games. And dessert.”

For the life of him, Killian couldn’t decipher Granny’s laugh at this simple observation until the double-entendre dawned on him at last. He was tired and perhaps he’d imbibed one too many glasses if he was the one missing the joke...it was then he noticed Emma’s jacket still laying across the barstool where she’d first dropped it.

“Seven hells,” he took off to the sound of Granny’s whooping call as she warned him the sheriff walked fast and he’d better work for it. Work for what exactly? Killian mused as he jogged out into the night, no easy feat in full leathers with more than a bit of drink in him. He spotted her golden hair in the lamplight down the street and called out, thinking it the better option than startling her.

She spun on her heel, wobbled slightly, and burst into laughter as she leaned against the lamppost for support--clearly he wasn’t the only to enjoy one too many this evening. Ever the gentleman, Killian held her jacket out and ignored her comment about being chased down Main Street by a pirate.

“Princess,” he began, calling far too loudly given the hour, “chivalry demands I return your cloak, lest you catch a chill on this dark night.” She shushed him less than successfully as she giggled and fell into step beside him-- Emma Swan can giggle, he mused. “As well,” he continued, voice full volume and bordering on a bellow, “I must see you safely to your door. No doubt there are ruffians about, and all manor of unsavory ne’er-do-wells, all seeking mischief against such an elegant,” he chuckled as she staggered slightly, “and graceful lady as thee.”

“You’re such an idiot, shut up! Do you want the whole neighborhood awake?” Her scolding was half-hearted at best considering her idea of a whisper could likely be heard across the street.

“Do you think they’ll call the sheriff, love” He waggled his eyebrows at her and she swatted his chest. “Surely you wouldn’t throw a man in the brig for an act of noblest courtesy,” at that he draped her jacket over her shoulders while she led the way and proceeded to spin a tale of his own unimpeachable valor as a young sailor. When they reached her dwelling, she turned to face him before heading up.

“Why do you always get it? Nobody gets it.” He raised a brow at her question. “Gets me. Like Neal,” she slurred the name and rolled her eyes. “I have a shitty day at work and he decides to make some weird pass at me through the kid ? But you,” she leaned in and poked Killian in the chest, keeping her index finger pressed against his sternum. “You’re the...the flirty pirate king and you just...throw sharp shit at a wall with me and buy me drinks. You didn’t even check out my ass more than once.”

He absolutely had, but far be it for Killian to correct the lady when this seemed to be going somewhere rather interesting.

“Can I tell you a secret?” she slurred.

Before he could suggest this was likely a bad idea as she would potentially regret whatever her next words were to be, she pulled him down by one of his coat lapels and whispered loudly, “My mom is Snow White, right? So she’s all about ‘true love’ and ‘happily ever after’,” her whisper became what he thought was an imitation of her mother, though he doubted that Snow White had ever been six whiskies and two rums deep.

“So she thinks that Neal is like...my Prince Charming, but here’s the secret: he’s not a prince! He’s a con-man, and he sure as hell isn’t charming. So whoops, Mom! Wrong bet!” She laughed and let go of his coat, poking the end of his nose and whispering something that sounded like the noise boop in the most infuriatingly impossible-to-understand gesture he’s witnessed yet. She gave him a glassy-eyed smile, and in a parting shot that left him speechless, she cupped his cheek and in a much softer tone murmured, “Goodnight, Killian.”

---

The morning arrived after less rest than he’d like, but Killian snapped awake as the sky first began to turn a dusty rose on the horizon. This was very likely the best mood he’d found himself in for quite some time, and he mused on the past twelve hours as he fiddled with the magic hot-water dispenser until he got the temperature just right. Unlike the Jolly , Granny’s provisions in terms of hygiene were lavish and he assumed they cost her a small fortune if Ruby and the guests enjoyed them as much as he did, but Granny assured him the soaps and amenities were provided, so he took great joy in letting the warm water run over him as he lathered up, breathing in the herbal and lemon scent so unlike the harsh lye soap he was accustomed to. This world without magic had its charms, and hot water on demand was his latest favorite.

He arrived downstairs for his other new-world favorite - coffee - and Killian was pleased to see Emma already at the counter, though she looked a great deal less chipper than he felt. “Good morning, Swan,” he sauntered up to take a seat at her left. “Beautiful morning, don’t you think?”

She grumbled something about a headache and before Killian could reply, Granny swooped in and all but insisted she sit and have breakfast. Despite her protests, Emma wound up delayed in her arrival to her post that morning as she was cajoled into a substantial pile of eggs, bacon, and toast. “Complain all you want, Sheriff,” Granny eyed her as she set a matching plate before Killian, “but you two need to soak up some of last night’s fun. Now, eat.” After obligingly refilling their mugs with steaming hot coffee, to which Emma added more than a bit of cream and sugar, Granny retreated to another table as the morning rush filled in around them.

They ate in companionable silence until Emma glanced over and opened with, “I beat you at darts, didn’t I?”

“Aye, two wins to my paltry one, Swan. I’m only grateful we chose not to wager more than dinner and drinks on the game, or my pockets would be a great deal more empty.” She smirked at his comment, and the two chatted as they worked through their breakfasts, both seeming to come alive as Granny had predicted.

He should have known it was all going far too well.

The bell above the door chimed, and the bustle of the patrons picking up coffee and pastries on their way to work or leisurely enjoying their breakfasts fell to a whisper. Killian stayed perfectly still as he heard the man limp toward the counter, the gentle thud of his cane giving him away. From the corner of his eye, he saw Emma roll her eyes at his clipped “Miss Swan,” and Killian stayed frozen to the spot, not trusting his reaction in front of the woman who not only was increasingly important in his life--a thought he’d sort out, or studiously avoid, later--but also represented the local law enforcement.

He heard few of the words exchanged between the Crocodile and Granny, though neither appeared pleased to be having the conversation. Instead, his pulse pounded in his head and his vision clouded as he clutched the edge of the counter. Killian had the distinct image of grabbing that gold-topped cane and flipping it, beating the man about the head until nothing recognizable remained. Until the gold handle dripped red. He could leave him on the floor of this place, twitching as the last impulses of his brain forced him to dance to a soundless tune; Killian could simply walk to the Jolly and set sail, free of the memory of this vile excuse for a man.

Except that he could do no such thing. He sat next to the sheriff in a small town diner surrounded by people who already distrusted him to varying degrees. He was trapped in a land that was not his own and had no way-- nor will --to return to his own. He was a captain without a crew, and as his mind raced through the numerous ways he could rid himself of this loathsome creature he knew now was not the time and certainly not the place. Simply put, Killian refused to put Emma in a position where she would be forced to see the darkness that lurked within him. So he let it pass, and let the Crocodile go for today.

It wasn’t long after the disruption that Emma took her leave, and Killian lingered at the counter as he mulled over what to do with his day. Most days he helped Granny with the more physically demanding repairs around the place, but he felt caged and in need of something more challenging.

“Appreciate you not taking his head off in my diner,” Granny remarked banally once the place emptied. “You have any idea what it takes to get blood out of white grout? Oh, don’t look so surprised; nothing smells quite like fear and rage rolled up in one, and I could smell yours from across the damn room.” She waved dismissively and filled two mugs, sliding one to him and keeping the other for herself. “It’s hot chocolate, and you need it. Little liquid comfort never hurt anyone, so drink up and tell me about it.”

He sipped hesitantly, but the woman was certainly right about the comforting power of the elixir before him. Killian thought about his next words as he breathed in the sweet steam from his mug, letting the cup warm his hand as he held it. “You could...smell my emotions?” He felt it best to begin with the obvious inquiry and prolong the tale of his darkest day.

“I could also hear your heart-rate skyrocket the second you knew who came through that door, so I’m guessing there’s some history there. You don’t have to tell me everything, Killian, but I need to know if I can trust you when you’re in here. Gold comes in to collect rent monthly, and every now and again he has lunch as well. I need to know you’re not going to take a kitchen knife to the bastard while I’m serving sandwiches.” She levelled a scrutinizing gaze at him and waited.

Killian set down his mug and scrubbed his hand over his face, realizing he was in need of a shave, then realizing he was further delaying the conversation. He sighed, knowing there was only one right way forward. “I will not spill his blood on your grounds, Granny, not unless he spills mine first. You have my word.” She nodded once, waiting for him to continue. And so he spent the sunny morning explaining how he lost his hand to the Dark One. While Killian left out much of the story of Milah, he could not entirely avoid her role in the tale, explaining simply that the man she knew as Gold had killed the woman Killian loved right in front of his eyes. Granny was sympathetic and asked few questions, letting him choose how much to reveal. It was cathartic, in a way - a chance to tell someone this piece of truth. A chance to be heard.

When they were finished, Granny spoke briefly of her wolfish nature, a truth which Killian enjoyed as it made her acute hearing and perceptiveness make far more sense. “I know your heart-rate also picks up around a certain sheriff,” she added as Killian slipped on his greatcoat, readying himself to find busywork on the Jolly . “And I know hers does around you.” She eyed him closely then, searching for he knew not what. “Be careful with her, Killian. I don’t know everything--I’m not sure anyone does--but I can see enough to know she’s been hurt, and that hurt hasn’t fully healed. In fact, I’m damn sure the source of it just waltzed back into her life.”

He nodded his understanding and left her to her work. Given the woman’s preternatural understanding of her patrons, he was not about to argue. He chewed her words over in his mind repeatedly as he spent the rest of the day checking that everything aboard his beloved Jolly was in tip-top shape. While his life may be constant chaos in this world, at least he could be assured his ship was as perfect as ever.

#cs au #captain swan #cs ff #csmm #killian jones #emma swan #captain swan au #karly tries her hand at writing

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clevercxs · 4 years ago

Text

Believer - Sigefrid Thurgilson [Ch 2]

[MORE CHAPTERS]

Pairing: Sigefrid Thurgilson x female oc

Word Count: 6.8k

_______________________________________________

With dawn came an uneasy feeling of dread within the Saxon warrior. Her face, distorted with worry, belied her ethereal youthfulness. She seemed to have aged an entire decade in the day it took them to reach the fortress of Beamfleot.

Beads of cold sweat glistened upon her furrowed brows. Lady Blædswith found herself anxiously gnawing at the insides of her cheeks like some famished barn rodent - though it wasn’t out of hunger. She’d bitten her chapped lips until they were stained red like fresh blood upon newly fallen snow. Her fair skin was drained of all color except for the rosy hue beneath her windblown cheeks.

Dark rings had formed beneath her pale eyes causing her to look all the more ghostly. Once filled with such vigor and spirit, her irises were now dull; lifeless even, and heavy with exhaustion. Her body, bruised and broken from the trauma she’d endured, swayed achingly with the rhythm of Sigefrid’s steed beneath her. It was by the strength of Sigefrid’s arm alone that she managed to sit upright for the duration of their travels.

She was a lamb being led to the slaughter, or frankly something far worse for a woman to endure than death itself - the wrath of men.

Unlike a lamb, or cow for that matter, Lady Blædswith didn’t have the luxury of being blissfully unaware of what lied ahead.

For the first time in a long while she was completely and utterly defenseless. Above all else, she believed it to be the scariest, most unusual feeling she’d ever known.

And she hated every second of it.

A light mist began to fall from the sky awash with ominous shades of grey. The air was humid and smelled of a storm brewing in the near distance. Thick clouds of fog encompassed each horse and rider though they began to dissipate over time. An unmistakable roll of thunder rumbled through the damp earth causing the horses to feel uneasy once more.

Lady Blædswith firmly grasped handfuls of mane between her fingers and took as deep of a breath as her ribs would allow.

For the love of God, or gods, please don’t throw me off.

Barren trees shivered in the wind, their naked limbs often snapping beneath the weight of fleeing crows and squirrels alike. Eerie branches, gnarled and twisted, extended towards the band of Danes and their princess like the very hands of Skaði herself - the Pagan goddess of winter.

The shivering princess found herself retreating into the fur pelt draped over her shoulders for warmth. Sigefrid decided she’d suffered enough from the cold, though found himself growing fond of the way his grey fur looked beneath her dark, unruly curls.

Although Lady Blædswith was born and raised in Wessex, Sigefrid could see there was something different within her; something worth saving. He could sense a feral presence bound by chains that could never be tamed - not even by him.

Odin had dealt her a great hand, and she spat it back at him by defying all odds.

____________________ ➴ ____________________

The infamous fortress of Beamfleot was a rather grim sight to behold.

The surrounding field was brown with decay. Remnants of battles past lie scattered in the weeds; broken swords, cracked shields, dented helmets, and the occasional skull or two left inside said helmets.

Its cold, uninviting walls of aged wooden planks loomed high above the approaching Danes and stretched towards the gods. Stone watch towers encompassed by cages of sharpened wooden pikes protected archers keeping watch over the land; Sigefrid and Erik’s land.

Sigefrid led his fellow Danes along a narrow path and towards the main gates. “Lady Blædswith of Wessex. Welcome, to Beamfleot. Your new home... should you want it.” His dark eyes gleamed with mischief, the corners of his lips perking into a rather menacing smile.

Lady Blædswith shook her head with confusion. “I-I do not understand. I thought you intended to sell me for ransom? T-to my father?”

Sigefrid chuckled haughtily, “Oh, for a while I did.” He tightened his arm around her waist and pressed the entirety of her back against his firm chest causing her breath to hitch. “But then I grew to like your company.” She could feel every muscle in his core flex and constrict against her frame as he held her in place. Every part of her yearned to resist his warm touch yet she couldn’t bring herself to do so… and she couldn’t understand why.

“How could I join you?” Lady Blædswith scoffed and craned her neck to face the Dane whose arm encompassed her being. “I have experienced quite enough to know better.” She pressed the palm of her hand against her dried arrow wound as if recalling the incident all over again. “You must think me a fool!“ She twisted back around and purposely bumped her back into his chest.

“I do not-“ Sigefrid growled lowly.

“Then how can you possibly expect me to trust you so soon?”

Sigefrid’s nostrils flared and his lips pursed out of bitterness; his narrowed eyes seemed to burn with a newfound frustration despite the truth behind her words. “Very well.” He huffed. “Warriors join us by the day. With word of your... capture… there will be more; all waiting for war.”

“Against who?” She urged. “Mercia? Wessex? My father?” Both kingdoms, as far as she knew, had large armies of noble and courageous men… but the average Saxon warrior was no match for a Dane like Sigefrid Thurgilson. “Tell me.”

Sigefrid smiled wickedly from ear to ear and simply responded, “You have my thanks, Lady.”

As they grew nearer, a set of heavy gates were drawn open revealing the inside of Beamfleot. Lady Blædswith could hear Danes of all walks of life applauding their Lord’s fruitful return. Once through the gates and inside, Hæsten rode up beside them and nudged her boot with his own. She kicked him back, harder, causing him to curse beneath his breath.

With the sound of the gates closing behind her and locking in place, all hopes she had of escaping fell into a pit of despair; of defeat.

The two Danes proceeded to ride through the village, passing by mothers joyfully embracing their children and drunken men clinking horns of ale together.

“Lord.”

“Yes?” Sigefrid drew slowly out of exasperation. “Speak.”

“How does she feel? Warm?” Hæsten’s serpent tongue grazed over the bottom of his busted lip. His eyes dilated at the mere thought of his hands ravishing Lady Blædswith’s womanhood. He believed it to be what she deserved for not only being a Saxon, but publicly humiliating him and nearly taking his life in front of everyone.

“Rich, as she should.” Sigefrid leaned forward and firmly pressed his lips to the back of her hair, exchanging a sly grin with Hæsten before leaning back. “She is priceless.”

Lady Blædswith felt completely numb; frozen in time as the world around her faded to a blur. Danes began clawing at her legs once more and tugged at her clothes. No one knew of her identity thus far but some had their suspicions. It was clear she was of grave importance to their Lord, therefore she had a great value.

She remained stoic; her attention fixated on the large building up ahead with pits of seductive flames dancing in front of frostbitten Danes.

Hot tears streamed down her flushed cheeks yet she kept quiet; there was nothing she could say that would matter to anyone - assuming she could even get them to listen in the first place.

Lady Blædswith could feel each tear dripping from her chin and falling onto the dense fur around her neck, one she wished could shield her face from the dirty looks she received as Sigefrid paraded her around.

“I bring you King Alfred’s eldest daughter! I swear to the gods… that this prize will not be sold cheaply. There will be wealth and glory for every man here!” An uproar of cheering and laughter rang out from children of all ages, the elderly, returning warriors and even slaves who’d taken a break from their chores to gape in awe.

They hoped they would have an easier week ahead of them now that a new woman had been introduced, so they celebrated her capture without drawing too much attention to themselves.

Sigefrid marveled triumphantly at the celebration that had begun in his honor. He could hear his name being praised and chanted loud enough to be heard for miles, a sound he would never tire of.

After the crowd simmered down he was the first to dismount. His boots, upon doing so, struck the earth like the mighty hammer of Thor. He reached up and grabbed Lady Blædswith by her waist as best as he could without harming her with his hand-blade nor disrupting her broken ribs. It was a rather tedious task.

The Lord of Beamfleot decided it was worth the risk of impaling King Alfred’s daughter if it meant no other man would lie a hand on her.

By the hour he found himself increasingly selfish and greedy; hungry with lust and a burning desire of having a princess all to himself in the interim of negotiating a price for her release.

She carefully dismounted and found herself clinging to Sigefrid’s armor for support. The warmth of her hands seeped through his leather attire causing his breathing to hitch for a moment. His hand remained a constant upon her waist until she found her balance. They held each other’s gaze a moment too long before she cleared her throat. “I’m fine. You can let go, now.”

With a sigh, Sigefrid rolled his eyes and stepped back just in time for a friendlier face to arrive by his side. Whoever he was, he seemed to have missed the big announcement.

“Sigefrid? Who is this woman?”

“Erik!” Sigefrid clapped a hand to his brothers shoulder and brought him closer to see her. “This is King Alfred’s daughter.”

Erik’s lips formed an ‘o’ before he stepped even closer out of sheer curiosity.

When Lady Blædswith looked up she met a pair of gentle blue eyes underlined with kohl. He had a small, rounder face than Sigefrid decorated in thick scars and smudges of dirt. It seemed Erik had been kept rather busy in his brother’s absence. Below his button nose was a short, dirty-blonde beard bound by a single ring of silver. Similar to Sigefrid, his head was shaved at the sides and his hair was knotted into a short braid down his neck.

“How did you come across her?” Erik asked over his shoulder though quickly turned back when she answered for his brother.

“My men and I were ambushed on our way to Mercia. They were all slaughtered in cold blood and I was taken as a hostage.”

Erik’s brows furrowed as he gently caressed the side of her bruised cheek with the tops of his knuckles, retracting his hand after she winced in pain.

“She is unwell, brother. Who did this to her?”

Lady Blædswith looked around to see if anyone would try to stop her from confessing. When she looked to Sigefrid he averted his gaze and crossed his arms over his chest.

“Hæsten.” She croaked, “But Sigefrid stopped him before it was too late.” The mere mention of his name through her lips caused Sigefrid’s chest to constrict.

“Lady,” Erik took a step closer with his hands raised to show her he meant well, “I would like to see what Hæsten did to you.”

She scoffed. “You want me to undress, here, in front of everyone? In the cold?”

Erik nodded with a sigh, acknowledging the extent of his request.

“Are you mad?” She then turned to face Sigefrid. “Sigefrid you can’t let him-“

“I can, and I will. Take off your fur, Lady. Now. We want to see such a woman in all her beauty!” The eldest Thurgilson pressed firmly, asserting himself to the Saxon woman who so boldly spoke out against him.

Exhaling slowly, she allowed the fur to drape down her arms and pool at her wrists before falling to the ground. The back of her neck was scorching hot as hundreds of eyes watched her every move.

“I’d like that back.” The princess wore a long sleeved shirt beneath a leather vest tied in the back like a corset. Her chainmail armor had been torn to pieces and left in the clearing where she was ambushed.

“Now, your vest.” Sigefrid motioned with his blade.

Lady Blædswith slowly reached behind her to untie the laces of her vest but stopped halfway, wincing as pain coursed through her body. “Damn!” She hissed, “I can not.” Her hand tightly clutched her right shoulder as she cried out in pain. “I can not lift my arms high enough to do so.”

Erik’s brows furrowed with confusion. “Why is that?”

“Well,” She gulped dryly, “it would appear that I’ve been struck by a bloody arrow! So I will not be taking it off.”

“Then I will. Allow me to be of... assistance.” Hæsten cooed as he slithered past the Thurgilson brothers.

“No!” Sigefrid and Lady Blædswith shouted in unison, leaving Erik unable to determine who’d taken greater offense to Hæsten’s offer. It struck Erik that perhaps Lady Blædswith meant more to his brother than he’d let on.

“Leave us, Hæsten. Now.” Sigefrid dismissed.

Hæsten swore to himself once more and passed by Lady Blædswith, though stopped dead in his tracks after she grabbed his wrist. “You should have killed me when you had the chance.” She whispered by his ear. “One day I shall make you beg for mercy as I did. Only your Lord won’t be there to save you like he did with me.”

“Sigefrid needed you alive. He knew he couldn’t hump a corpse.” Hæsten sneered, only to be knocked off balance by her forehead slamming into his nose - causing it to break and ooze blood down his lips. Before he could raise his fist Erik grabbed him by the forearm and redirected the hostile Dane elsewhere. Hæsten brushed shoulders with the younger Thurgilson before searching for a slave to take his aggressions out on.

Lady Blædswith caught sight of Sigefrid with his bottom lip between his teeth, concealing a coy smirk of amusement as his chest shook with laughter. He ran a hand over his devilish beard before strolling towards her.

“You enjoyed that, didn’t you?”

The Dane shrugged. “Mmm….Maybe I did? Though Hæsten was right. I needed you alive.”

“So you could hump me, is that it?” She yanked him down to her eye level by the collar of his leather armor and narrowed her eyes. “You couldn’t handle me.” The princess hissed through gritted teeth and released him with a shove.

Sigefrid chuckled to himself after regaining his stance. “Oh? Is that right?” He’d caught onto the game she dared to play without realizing she’d awoken the beast within him. It was risky of her to challenge such a man of Sigefrid’s reputation, but she couldn’t help it. It was simply in her nature. After all, what had she to lose?

“It is. Besides, I would slit my own throat before bedding a Dane, especially you.”

Sigefrid laughed heartily, evoking Erik and the surrounding Danes to harmonize with him as they mocked the injured woman.

“I mean it. Lord or not, I don’t give a damn.”

“That is enough, Lady. Turn around.” She sighed and did as she was told, now facing Erik who passed her a subtle grin. Sigefrid began working the laces out of their knots until her vest fell open in his hands. Once it was discarded he tore the sleeve from her shirt to reveal the main source of her discomfort.

Sigefrid and Erik visibly cringed at the sight - and smell - of her wound seeing fresh air for the first time. She handled the pain better than Sigefrid expected she would, and by a long shot, her strong will to live had exceeded his expectations.

Lady Blædswith had the face of a beautiful Saxon woman... but the heart of a Dane.

“Sigefrid, if you value Hæsten’s life you will keep him away from me. I will not hesitate to defend myself against him. He still wishes me dead.”

Sigefrid narrowed his intimidating gaze into her eyes. He knew she was right; Hæsten, almost as much as himself, couldn’t keep away from the Saxon princess.

“I do not take orders from you, princess!” The dark haired Thurgilson growled. “You should be glad to still have your tongue.”

The sound of gravel crunching beneath the steady rhythm of boots caused them both to look up as Erik approached.

Heavier droplets of rain began to fall upon their heads as forbidding clouds lurked overhead causing some to retreat indoors for warmth.

“Enough, Sigefrid. We need to get her inside before she freezes to death.”

“Very well, Erik. She is coming with me.” Sigefrid roughly grasped onto the princess’s forearm.

“Wait!” Lady Blædswith shouted, tugging her arm free of Sigefrid’s calloused grip before pulling her torn shirt up and beneath her bra line for all to see. Dark, unpleasant blotches of purple and green had appeared overnight as the pain worsened. It looked - and felt - as if she had been kicked by a horse when both brothers knew the truth.

“You have broken ribs... Hæsten did this as well?” Erik frowned solemnly, receiving a nod from the princess as she covered herself up once more. Sigefrid took a rather possessive hold of her hand in his and squeezed it tightly to ensure she wouldn’t slip away.

“It will not happen again, Lady. You have my word.” The sincerity of Erik’s words was as refreshing as a cold drink on a hot summer day. However, she had to remind herself that he was no saint.

Erik Thurgilson was the lesser of two evils. Lady Blædswith couldn’t help but feel safer around him despite the fact that he was Sigefrid’s younger brother.

The princess mouthed a quiet thank you and passed the blonde Dane a frail smile before Sigefrid pulled her towards the Mead Hall.

“Sigefrid, you will not hurt her.” Erik demanded of his hot-headed brother whose mind was already made up. Lady Blædswith stumbled behind him in an attempt to keep up with his long stride to avoid being dragged through the mud.

“I will do as I please.” Sigefrid laughed with a smirk. Erik couldn’t help but shake his head in disapproval, now trailing behind to ensure no further harm came to King Alfred’s daughter.

“Try, and see what happens!” With a loud huff Lady Blædswith dug the heels of her boots into the dirt causing him to stop and face her. “Your hand won’t be the only thing missing from your body when I am through with you.” As their faces drew closer a single white cloud was formed from their sharp breaths intertwining. Suddenly she felt the pad of his thumb flicking over her bottom lip and resting upon her chin as he held her gaze.

“You have a sharp tongue, Lady.” Sigefrid snarled, his nose scrunching with vexation. She could feel the warmth of his breath upon her lips. “That will get you in trouble.”

“How fitting.” The princess muttered and swatted his hand away before he snatched it back it in his own. “That seems to be all I am good for lately.”

____________________ ➴ ____________________

A frigid breeze nipped away at her face and had crept beneath the tattered remains of her clothes, spreading across her skin as if she were trapped in the frozen realm of Nifelheim.

Her hands, tucked away in the cavities of her armpits, were painfully numb to the touch. Her pale lips had turned a bluish hue and her teeth chattered with the unsteady rhythm of her breathing. The nearest fire pit was just out of reach no matter how far she stretched her arm; it was close enough to tempt her like the Forbidden Fruit to Eve, yet remained unattainable despite her efforts.

Lady Blædswith fell heavy with exhaustion after frantically searching for a way out; a weak plank of wood, a loose nail… nothing. She had repeatedly thrown herself at the locked gate, crying out in frustration each time whilst doing more harm to herself than the filthy cage that confined her. Its rusty bars remained stationary yet they closed in on her all the same, and she couldn’t help but feel a sense of claustrophobia curdling within her.

A shroud of darkness had enveloped her broken wings, for Lady Blædswith was a flightless bird.

Occasionally she found peace by slipping into an unconscious state, only to be startled awake by ungodly booms of thunder or Danes clinking horns of ale along the metal bars. Even a brood of clucking chickens strutted past her, showing off their boundless freedom before Danish children chased them outside. Curious hounds sniffed around the princess from time to time, trying to determine whether or not she was to become their next meal, or perhaps just something to urinate on.

And by the smell of it, they chose the latter.

An overwhelming series of events had occurred in the mere day or so she’d been in the Thurgilson brothers’ possession. Evidently, the Saxon princess began to lose track of time.

How long had she been trapped here? For a few hours? Days? And how long had Sigefrid allowed his men to tease and taunt her whilst she lay curled in a ball, weeping as a small child would? Praying to her God who seemed to have turned a blind eye once and for all?

From beyond the shadowy gloom of the dimly lit hall came a tall silhouette carrying something. Lady Blædswith found herself scrambling to the furthest corner from the gate out of fear of her approacher’s intentions. When they stepped closer to the cage their face became visible beneath the chandelier hanging overhead, revealing it to be Erik Thurgilson with a fur pelt in his arms.

She had ill-heartedly anticipated it to be Hæsten returning for a helping of spiteful revenge.

“Are you ready to talk, Lady? I brought you something warm.” Erik gestured the fur towards her, receiving a frantic nod as she rose to her bare feet. Sigefrid had ushered everyone out of the hall and into the cold, barring the doors behind them. He then found himself drawn to her cage like a moth to candlelight, watching wearily as Erik retrieved a key from his pocket and opened the gate. He carefully set the fur down for Lady Blædswith before locking her in once more.

Collapsing to her knees with a gasping sigh of relief, the trembling princess wrapped the thick pelt over her body and curled into a ball, now teetering back and forth on her tailbone. Sigefrid and Erik pulled up a carved bench and made themselves comfortable for what they anticipated to take some time: interrogating the rogue daughter of King Alfred of Wessex.

“I shall t-tell you everything you wish to know,” She shivered, “b-but only if you release me from this wretched cage where I am to remain under your protection. I am not a damned chicken… This cage is rather small for a princess.” Lady Blædswith quirked a dark brow. She smirked ever so slightly and allowed her gaze to fall deep into Sigefrid’s lap, “I expected it to be… bigger.” She so crudely joked, catching both brothers by surprise at her sudden vulgarity.

Humor, of all things, seemed to keep her sane even through the worst of days.

Sigefrid’s eyes glimmered as he chuckled into the palm of his hand as he stroked the length of his sleek, raven beard.

“I like her.” Sigefrid cooed, turning to face his better half though his eyes remained glued to his Saxon prisoner.

“Perhaps too much.” Erik grinned teasingly, “Shall I leave, brother?”

Sigefrid shook his head and sighed. “No, stay.” He then directed his full attention to the princess. “I accept your terms, Lady. It is done.” He muttered, “You will be freed... And, you may be surprised how well such a cage would… suit your needs.” Sigefrid smirked devilishly at the witty Saxon, displaying teeth as sharp and frightening as knives. Her heart seemed to beat faster in a dizzying manner that her breathing could not keep up with.

How was he menacing yet alluring at the same time? How could she loathe such a man yet want nothing more than to be in his presence? To hear the low growl of his voice sent shivers down her spine in the most pleasant of ways. She craved the danger; the unpredictability of his Pagan nature. It was all so new and enticing to the Saxon woman whose recurring thoughts have been far from Holy. He was her enemy; her kidnapper. Sigefrid Thurgilson was a deviously charming Dane with an edge of mystery to his every whim. She believed if he had intended to do her harm, he would have done so already.

Her only dilemma was that she couldn’t bring herself to forgive him for Lunden… not now, anyways.

Sigefrid Thurgilson held the power to decide her fate; whether or not she lived or died — and how. He had chosen wisely thus far, and appeared to see Lady Blædswith in all her grandeur.

Erik Thurgilson spoke uncomfortably,, “I must be going-”

“No! Stay.” Lady Blædswith chirped. “I am ready to talk… But only to you, Erik. You have shown me a great kindness.” She directed at the blonde Thurgilson. “As for your brother… not so much. He is the reason I almost died at Hæsten’s hand.” She spat at him through the cage. “I will never forget that, Heathen.”

A loud stomp echoed throughout the hall as the floorboard beneath Sigefrid’s boot nearly cracked. “I am the reason you are still alive. Do not forget that.” Sigefrid leaned forward, pressing his elbow into his knees. He slowly unsheathed his hand-blade and sneered mockingly, “Christian.”

“Perhaps what my brother is trying to say is… we would greatly appreciate your... cooperation.” Erik grinned sheepishly as a low growl rumbled within his brother’s throat. “Where were you headed, Lady, with the king’s men? You said you were headed for Mercia when Sigefrid… found… you. Is this true?”

Lady Blædswith nodded with a troubled sigh. “Yes, it is true. I was headed North to visit my sister, Lady Æthelflæd. I traveled with my men; they were loyal to me, and to me only. And in return I led them to their deaths.” A light shudder rippled through her body as she fought the urge to dispel the meat they fed her earlier.

“To see the Queen of Mercia — yes. But why?” Sigefrid’s brows furrowed tightly together in uncertainty.

Lady Blædswith inhaled sharply. “I thought... we could be of use to each other. I sought her protection, and Mercia needs warriors with my skillset.” She feared she had already revealed too much, but there was no turning back now.

“You do not have King Alfred’s protection?” Erik frowned and rose to his feet, taking firm hold of a metal rod in each hand. He was unsure of what to make of her words.

Lady Blædswith chuckled and shook her head, wet strands of hair falling over her eyes, “No, no. Of course I do not. He is the one I sought protection from! For years I have drowned in my father’s politics but I have had enough!” She shouted angrily, causing both brothers to flinch ever so slightly. “I met suitor after suitor... they never stopped asking for my hand in marriage. Strange men; always foreign and often old enough to be my father…. or grandfather.” She could feel herself fighting back a sob brewing within her throat.

The Thurgilson brothers exchanged sour looks of disgust.

“I can not imagine what you have been through, Lady.” Erik soothed and leaned closer to her cage. “No father should force his daughter to wed, not even a King.”

Lady Blædswith smiled softly at Erik, though noticed the way Sigefrid had began glaring down at her. She felt almost obligated to explain herself, “I-I never loved any of my suitors — I couldn’t. I was always able to scare them away, and Alfred resented me for it. I humiliated him, time and time again, in front of numerous princes and lords… until one day he found a man most unafraid of my strong will…”

“What do you mean?” Sigefrid snapped resentfully. Erik could see a blazing pain of jealousy ignite within his brother. “Who is this man you speak of?”

“I am engaged to a Frenchman whose name I can hardly pronounce nor remember. He has…” She motioned to the top of her head, “...thinning, grey hair like a corpse! I have heard the servants’ whispers, and they say he is a cruel man. He hates women, especially women like me.” Lady Blædswith rose to her knees and crawled a few feet closer to the brothers, no longer apprehensive of their presence. “He remains in Wessex with my father but I doubt they will send scouts to find me. I may not be worth the trouble... But if they did, they will not succeed.”

“Your fiancé fears a woman so strong; so unafraid to will her own destiny.” Erik smiled and took a seat. “He sounds a cowardly prick. You deserve far better, Lady. A man who is your equal-”

“Silence your flattery, brother.” Sigefrid snapped with a harsh jab of his elbow into Erik’s arm. “Continue.”

She nodded and did as commanded,

“I told King Alfred of the rumors I heard but he did not believe me…. and God forbid I seek proof for myself - I knew better than that. The moment my own mother, Lady Aelswith, decided to support the marriage I knew there was no longer a life for me in Wessex. I no longer had allies; no loyal family left but in Mercia. One night, on a whim, I simply gathered my things and left with the few men I could gather…” She sighed heavily and allowed her shoulders to droop. “We later passed through Lunden and, well, you both know what happened next.”

The Mead Hall fell silent, only to be disturbed by the frantic pounding of fists upon the main doors and a voice asking for Lord Erik. “If you will excuse me,” He rose to his feet and slipped the key into his pocket instead of trusting it with Sigefrid; this did not go unnoticed by his brother nor the princess.

Although Lady Blædswith asked to be freed, and Sigefrid agreed to uphold her request, Erik knew she was safer behind bars where no Dane could harm her - not even Sigefrid or Hæsten.

Erik made his way through the doors and was virtually out of sight. Alone, in the wet darkness of the Mead hall sat a Saxon beauty and her beast.

“Why did you kill the man who shot me?” Lady Blædswith wasted no time in bluntly asking her most burning question. “You did not know who I was. I was but a Saxon woman, y-you’re enemy.” Crawling towards the gate, she rested the palms of her hands against a wooden plank.

“He acted on Hæsten’s orders, not mine nor Erik’s. It did not matter... whether or not I knew you were Alfred’s daughter.” Sigefrid looked up from his lap and appeared unusually calm; sympathetic, almost. “I have never seen a woman fight as you do, Lady Blædswith of Wessex. Not even a Danish shieldmaiden could compare. Sparing you... went against everything I stand for… everything!” He slammed his hand down on the bench beside him. “But you were worth saving.”

He then paused, glancing over his shoulder to ensure they were truly alone. “And I would do it again... without hesitation.” Sigefrid sighed in defeat, not wanting to accept the fact of the matter but it was true.

She was taken aback by his confession, unsure of what to say or do. Ever so carefully she reached above her head and took hold of metal bars, helping herself to her feet. The cage was barely tall enough for her to stand upright but she managed. “You still believe me to be worth saving even though I am in ruins?” She asked in disbelief and Sigefrid nodded.

She couldn’t help but smile. “Thank you for sparing my life, Lord. All day I have feared Beamfleot; you, Hæsten, Erik… and everyone else. But now I fear returning home, how foolish is that? Despite the unbearable conditions I have been kept in, here…. I would gladly choose it over the life my father has planned for me.”

With a grunt Sigefrid suddenly rose to his feet, turning away whilst repeatedly running a calloused hand over his face.

“You do not wish to sell me for ransom… do you?”

“I am… conflicted, Lady.” He turned around on the heels of his boots to face her, “As you are. I promised my men wealth and glory, but they do not see you are priceless.” Frustrated by the decision at hand, Sigefrid neared a long table set with platters of food and cups of ale, and with one big sweep of his arm sent dishes crashing to the floor with a loud yell. “Damnit!”

Now seething with sudden rage, Sigefrid abandoned the princess and strode towards the doors to find his brother, only to be stopped by her shouting, “Stop!”

As if compelled by the gods Sigefrid found himself immobilized a mere foot from the door. The princess sniffled beneath the pelt now draped over her head and wiped away tears from her cheeks. “Sigefrid you will not receive what you desire from King Alfred.” She confessed, knowingly signing her own death sentence.

She heard his loud boot steps approaching as he breathlessly snapped, “What? What do you mean, woman?”

“I mean you have the wrong daughter!” She sobbed, watching as the Dane before her grew increasingly hostile and agitated by her words. “I was never his favorite child, never! He cared for me once but my constant defiance has shamed him beyond repair. Why would a king pay a fortune for a disobedient princess whom he no longer loves? He does not value me as a skilled warrior like you do, I am simply a pawn. If and when he negotiates a price… you will not be satisfied with it.”

“Are you saying I should have killed you in the woods?”

“No! And I am grateful you did not. I thank… I thank the gods that you see some greater value in me than my own father, b-because at least I-I know I matter to someone.” The princess choked on her own tears and displayed her aching heart on her chest. “For better or for worse, I matter to you.”

“You speak often of my gods.” Sigefrid folded his arms over his chest and began walking in a circle around her cage. “Have you lost faith in your God?”

She squeezed her ocean eyes shut and nodded, fishing down the collar of her shirt for the wooden cross hung around her neck. She took it in her hand and yanked the necklace from her person. “He has ignored my prayers for longer than I can remember. He turned my own family against me… my own kingdom. I prayed to Him before I fought Hæsten… and I lost miserably.” She gently laid the broken necklace on the floor before spitting on it. “I could never bring myself to denounce Him, but I feel I may soon. Meeting you has been the ultimate test of my faith, Lord.”

Heaven lost an angel the day Princess Blædswith met Sigefrid Thurgilson.

When she opened her eyes she saw that Sigefrid had reclaimed his place on the bench, nursing his hand-blade, slowly working the buckles to relieve his discomfort.

“Who did that to you?”

Sigefrid glared up at her for daring to ask when he assumed she knew. “Your Lord, Uhtred.” Sigefrid groaned, struggling to free his stump from the gnarly contraption.

“I am… sorry he did that to you. I hope it brings you peace knowing I no longer serve Uhtred Ragnarsson.”

“Oh?” He disregarded the buckles on his hand and allowed it to rest upon his knee. “Who do you serve, Lady?”

She scoffed with a smile and leaned her back against the bars, “I serve myself, as hard as it may be to believe. All men who have tried before have failed. For a short while I was sworn to Uhtred of Bebbanburg. I fought by his side and loved every moment of it.”

“Why did you stop?”

“Well, it was not up to me. King Alfred welcomed the idea of his daughters learning to protect themselves. Growing up, Æthelflæd and I trained with the captain of my family’s guards, a man named Steapa. Unlike my sister who was married off to a pig’s ass named Æthelred-”

“-A pig’s ass!” Sigefrid shouted with amusement. “How fitting.”

“He is but a shit stain upon my boot as I have come to know. I fear no man, but he… he is no man.”

“Will you tell me about him?”

“I shall, another time.” She grinned and continued her story, “I pursued my skills in fighting, and once I was good enough Uhtred gladly took me under his wing despite my father’s wishes. Uhtred taught me that not all Danes are cruel and merciless. I am hoping that to be true of yourself and Erik. He seems a kind man.”

Sigefrid nodded in response to her compliment. “He is a good man. I would be lost without his head.”

“I have no doubt.” She teased with a mournful grin. “I wish I could say the same for my father - that he is a good man. It was not easy for Uhtred to let me go but he was ordered by King Alfred to do so. He took away everything I had; my freedom, my happiness. I lost not only my own blood, but Uhtred and his men. I was suddenly… alone.” She glanced at Sigefrid through eyes blurred with tears. “My sister is all I have left. God forbid she turns on me, too. I am not sure what I would do.”

“What are you prepared to do?” Sigefrid cocked his head to the side and attempted to decipher her words. “Are you prepared to kill your own sister? A queen?”

“Is that what you would like me to do?” She scoffed. “Would you kill Erik? Your brother? Surely not.” Lady Blædswith challenged, not able to help herself from feeling defensive over Lady Æthelflæd’s life. The entire hall fell silent except for the sound of rain falling in sheets upon the roof. Sigefrid shifted uneasily in his seat and allowed for his head to hang below his shoulders.

“I… would be lost without Erik.” He repeated quietly, craning his neck to nod at her before returning his undivided attention to the screwy buckles on his hand-blade.

Fascinated by Sigefrid’s troubling efforts the princess blurted, “May I see it? Your hand?”

Sigefrid’s face hardened with shame and distrust. “No.” He hissed and turned away from her like a stubborn child refusing his vegetable dinner. “You may not.”

She took a calming breath and knelt before the gate. “I can take it off and help soothe your pain-”

“Why would you want to help me, woman?” He continued to fumble with the buckles though frustration clouded his focus.

“Well… I’m sure Uhtred had his reasons but no man deserves that. Not a Dane, not even my father.” She rolled her eyes. “Well, maybe my father.”

Sigefrid paused with a grin, and looked up though his gaze refused to find the Saxon woman kneeling before him. “Not even a Dane holding you hostage?”

She gulped dryly and shook her head. “No, not even him.” Her eyes met his longing gaze and the world seemed to stop spinning; the heavy downpour even ceased to fall. “I will not hurt you, Sigefrid. I could not bring myself to.”

Sigefrid contemplated whether or not to expose to her his blessèd curse of an arm; his most loathsome insecurity that had only damned the eyes of his dearest brother. Would she see him as less of a man? Weak; vulnerable, even? The Lord of Chaos decided he was willing to let his guard down as she had done. Perhaps the gentle touch of a woman was all he needed. Though it may not ease his pain entirely, it would surely lift his spirits and remind him why he initially spared her life. He took great pleasure in her company, though not without dreading what was to come of her and his decisions left unmade. With a definitive nod he agreed,

“Very well.”

_______________________________________________

Author’s Note: This was more of a filler/informational chapter regarding *some* of Lady Blædswith’s background. I promise chapters 3+ will be more action packed. I hope this chapter was worth the wait! ;)

(FYI, reading all of Sigefrid’s lines in his voice makes it 10x better)

TAGS: @finantheagile @inforapound @cheapcakeripper @wildwren @metall-and-dust @onesaltyhunter @wessexcrown @destinysall @lauwrite1225 @lumxnously Feel free to ask to be added to the tag list xx

#The Last Kingdom #vikings #fanfic #sigefrid #sigefrid thurgilson #sigefrid thurgilson fanfic #tlk fanfiction #Uhtred Ragnarson #finan #finan the agile #finan tlk #bjorn bengtsson #morgana #katie mcgrath #mark rowley #uhtred #alexander dreymon #arnas fedaravicius #Sihtric

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robinrunsfiction · 4 years ago

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Ivy - Chapter 1

Story Main Page

"Good morning, Your Highness," a pleasant voice roused (YN) from her sleep. "Big day today!"

(YN) groaned, nerves setting in the moment her eyes opened. "The day that's been a lifetime in the making."

"Are you excited, Your Highness?" Her maid Christine asked as she laid out the Princess’ gown across the bed.

"What choice do I have?" (YN) sighed. "All I've been hearing for years is it’s my duty to marry Prince Dallon. At least now I will finally meet who I'm fated to."

"Well you need to get ready, they will be arriving at any time.”

A few hours later, (YN) stood anxiously between her father and mother as the royal carriage pulled up.

“Presenting King George and Prince Dallon of Arboria,” the footman bellowed as they stepped out of the carriage and each bowed before their hosts.

(YN)’s eyebrows went up in surprise. No one had told her much about her future husband, so she was surprised to see he was tall, very tall, and quite handsome. She had been worried she’d never grow to love her husband, but at least he was good looking.

“Welcome!” (YN)’s father greeted them as they approached. “I am proud to introduce my daughter, Princess (YN).”

“Your Majesty,” she said as she curtseyed. “Your Highness.”

Dallon stepped forward and took her hand, placing a kiss on the back of it. “I am so happy to finally meet you.”

(YN) felt herself blushing. “And I you.”

“George, we have much to discuss. Let’s let these two get acquainted while we discuss terms,” (YN)’s father announced. As the elder royals proceeded into the castle, Dallon offered (YN) his arm, which she took and they headed inside as well.

“Would you like to see the gardens?” (YN) offered.

“Lead the way,” he smiled. (YN) couldn’t believe how lovely his smile was as well.

“So,” (YN) laughed nervously as they walked through the rows of flowers in the sunny courtyard. “I’ve never been to Arboria, what is it like there?”

Dallon smiled as he began to talk fondly of his homeland. He described the valley bordered by a towering mountain range, and a great sea where they boasted a large fishing industry. He talked of the people and their lives there, his friends, and other nobles. “I do believe you’ll come to love the land as your own.”

(YN) nodded. “Oh of course,” she agreed politely.

“Ravenwood is certainly beautiful though,” Dallon offered as they sat down on a bench between rose bushes.

“It is, but sadly I cannot speak about the land as well as you can of yours. My older brother is next in line to the throne, so educating me in the ways of our kingdom was never a priority sadly,” she said awkwardly, looking at her hands in her lap and a silence hung between them.

“It’s a strange situation we’re in, isn’t it?” Dallon asked, finally breaking the tension.

“I’m glad you feel the same way,” (YN) laughed in relief. This simple comment made it feel like she no longer needed to act so formally with him.

“But I suppose it’s the way things are done. Our duty and responsibility for being born into a life of privilege. I hope you aren’t disappointed with me,” he said somberly.

“Oh no! I was only surprised in the best way when I first saw you. You seem to be absolutely lovely,” she said reaching out and placing her hand on his.

He looked down at her hand and took it in his large warm one. (YN) looked up at him and his clear blue eyes and she felt a smile tug at her lips as they both leaned in, until their lips met softly. From everything (YN) had ever heard about love before, she knew that there was supposed to be a spark, that she should feel something, but she felt nothing.

‘I'm sure one day I will love him,’ she thought as they pulled back and he smiled at her sweetly.

A few days after Dallon and his father had departed, (YN) was pacing around her room when there was a knock on her door.

“Christine, I’ve been thinking,” she started as soon as the maid walked in.

“About what Your Highness?” Christine asked politely.

“I’m being married off on behalf of Ravenwood and I know nothing about it. Doesn’t that seem strange?”

"I suppose it does," Christine replied cautiously.

"So I'll be going into town," (YN) nodded resolutely.

"Oh! Are you certain? Would you like me to fetch Frank to prepare a carriage?"

"Yes I am certain, but no, I don’t want too much undue attention. And this should go without saying though, please do not breathe a word of this to anyone."

"Of course Your Highness," she nodded.

"Can you please help me leave through the side entrance, so as to avoid any unnecessary questioning from my mother or father, lest I run into them?"

"Yes, of course. How soon would you like to leave?"

"As soon as I can.”

Not much later (YN) was sneaking out of the castle and making her way up the road to the town. She'd ridden in the carriage through the town many times, but her parents never stopped to talk to, or buy directly from, the people of the town and it always made her a little sad. Now was her chance to experience the town without drawing any attention to herself with royal pomp and circumstance.

However as (YN) made her way through the market, she quickly realized that her plan to remain anonymous was futile. She didn't mind being surrounded by the townsfolk, but she had hoped to be able to observe, not be observed. She was starting to feel a bit overwhelmed by the attention when she spotted the sign for the town bookstore and ducked inside.

(YN) marveled at all the gorgeous books lining the shelves and table tops. The smell of paper, ink, and leather felt familiar and welcoming. As she ran her fingers over the leatherwork on the bindings, she marveled at the level of attention and detail that went into the craft.

“Can I help yo- oh, Your Highness,” the shopkeeper bowed.

“Please do not stand on ceremony on my behalf,” she laughed lightly. When he righted himself, it was as if her heart stopped for a moment, her breath catching in her chest. He was incredibly handsome; his eyes attentive, his jawline looked like it could cut glass, and his lips, just thinking of those made it take a moment for her to come to her senses. “Umm, this is a lovely store you have. You’re a very skilled bookbinder.”

“Thank you, but I cannot take credit. My father is the master bookbinder, and my older brother, Gerard is his apprentice. I just sell the books.”

(YN) nodded, appreciating that he did not take credit for work that was not his, when he so easily could have, she never would have known the difference. “What is your name?”

“Michael, Your Highness. Can I help you find something?” He asked, coming around the counter.

“Do you have any books about love?” She asked.

He seemed surprised for a moment. “Of course Your Highness, right here,” he led the way to the shelf.

"Ah, so the book of love is fiction," she said dryly looking at the selection.

"I'm sorry?"

(YN) shook her head. "Is there one that you recommend?"

"I enjoyed this one," he said, taking down one of the books. "It's about finding true love."

(YN) hummed and a smile tugged at her lips. "Alright, I will take it."

Michael nodded and made his way back to the counter. Before he could even tell her the price, (YN) had taken out a gold coin and placed it in his hand. "Your Highness, this is too much-" he started.

"Keep it as a thank you for your exceptional service today," she smiled.

A stunned smile spread across his face. "Thank you, Your Highness!"

"Please, call me (YN)," she smiled before making her way out of the store.

After a day purchasing trinkets, flowers, and fresh pastries, (YN) finally made her way back to the castle, quickly stealing away to her room. She had a vase brought up for the flowers, spread her new treasures out on her bed so she could admire them before diving into her new book.

“Your Highness, are you well?” (YN) heard Christine ask, pulling her out of the fictional world she’d tumbled into.

“Oh yes, I’m just engrossed in this book I bought today,” she said holding it up. “Wait, when did it get so late?” She asked, looking out the window. It had grown so dark she realized she was having trouble seeing the words on the page.

Christine just laughed lightly while lighting the lamps in the room. “What is the book about?”

“Romance! And love, and oh it’s so lovely!” (YN) swooned, flopping back against her pillows.

“Does it remind you of Prince Dallon?” Christine asked mischievously.

(YN) sighed, sitting up. “That’s why I bought the book. I was hoping it would shed light on what love feels like, but all it’s done is make me certain that I do not love Dallon.”

“It was only one meeting, maybe it will take time to grow.”

“Maybe,” she replied. "Oh, I got you this!"

Christine smiled as she took the small music box in her hands. "It's lovely, Your Highness! You didn't need to get me anything."

"I just want you to know how much I appreciate you. If it wasn't for your help, I never would have made it into town today."

"I'm always here to help you," she smiled before leaving the room.

(YN) picked up her book again, but as she gazed at the cover, she couldn't help but wonder what the bookstore keeper was doing that evening. ‘Probably going home to a lovely wife, he certainly knows something about romance based on this recommendation,’ she thought before returning to where she’d left off in the book.

Chapter 2

#mikey way x reader #mikey way fan fic #mikey way fan fiction #mikey way imagine #my chemical romance fan fic #my chemical romance fan fiction #dallon weekes fan fic #dallon weekes fan fiction #dallon weekes imagine #idkhow fan fic #idkhow fan fiction

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girlmeetsliv3 · 5 years ago

Text

Prince of Nothing I

~ Part One of Five ~

Release Date: March 19th, 2020 @ 9 p.m.

Word Count: 6,608

Jeon Jungkook was the prince of everything except for you…

Jeon Jungkook was the prince of everything: heaven, hell, and everything in between. His family was an enigma who came to power under mysterious circumstances and had managed to retain hold over the kingdom for centuries - even if no one knew how. There was one thing that Jungkook wanted though, something that could never be his: you. A nobody. A girl with no title. No land. Just money and a pure soul to your name. Jeon Jungkook would’ve never spared a look your way, had that incident not occurred. Now you find yourself the target of his affection and the most hated woman in all the land. Which will kill you first?

Trigger Warning: The following story contains mentions of manipulation, abuse, and vivid, as well as implied, descriptions of abusive acts. The behavior and mindset of the characters in this will be incredibly yandere and toxic. This is a work of fiction and doesn’t represent the character of bangtan sonyeondan. Enjoy ~~~

“YN, please listen to me,” Hyunshik spoke a frown etched into his pale face. From where he was standing YN could see how his leg twitched anxiously. Hyunshik wasn’t the type of individual to be easily stressed, in fact, the man had a perpetual optimism that often irked his sister. Which is why her brother’s sudden switch unnerved YN. “Shik, what’s going on?”

Hyunshik had suggested a holiday for the two of them. Though the way he shaped his words, YN wondered if it was less of a ‘holiday’ and more of an escape. From what exactly she didn’t know. YN shook her head, she didn’t understand where all this was coming from. Things had been going well for the siblings as of late: their house was small but quaint enough for them to live comfortably. While Hyunshik had been employed in Mistress Eun’s manor since he was sixteen, YN had recently been employed in a small shop in the town square. Her employer was a bit strict but well-meaning. Is it Mistress Eun? YN had heard enough around town to know that she wasn’t a kind woman - often barking orders and treating her staff like scum beneath her feet. Hyunshik though simply cleaned, he wasn’t in high enough of a standing to be able to communicate much less see her.

YN stopped organizing the different fabrics on the shelf and walked towards her brother. “Talk to me. Did something happen?” In her eyes, there were unspoken words - one that Hyunshik could easily understand. Did she do something to you? Though Hyunshik was always happy, he wasn’t naive about the cruelty of the world. Something his sister had yet to experience fully, so for her sake he smiled. “Nah, work has just been piling up recently and I thought the two of us could use a break you know. Maybe go to the seaside and enjoy the ocean for a bit.” YN smiled though it didn’t quite reach her eyes, “I just started working silly. Maybe we can go for the solstice? That way we can actually enjoy the sea. It’s far too cold now.”

Hyunshik gave an exaggerated sigh, “Fine but don’t complain to me later on,” his finger came up and gently massaged the space between YN’s brows. “Stop frowning, it’s unladylike and makes you look like a hag.” YN scoffed, “Rude. Plus, I am hardly a lady.” She returned to the counter and began organizing the small intricacies placed there. Hyunshik rolled his eyes, “Please my sister is the fairest maiden in all the land. I have to fight off suitors every day.” His tone became a strong bravado as he flexed his arms.

“Don’t lie to yourself, if anything I fight off my suitors every day. You couldn’t harm a fly.”

YN and Hyunshik had moved to their current home when the latter was sixteen years old. Their parents had just passed shortly before and they couldn’t afford to live in the city anymore, despite them living in the slums; which only grew worse over time. Slavers often went around picking up orphaned children to either sell or trade, so Hyunshik sought to get both of them as far away as he could. In desperate times came desperate measures, but Hyunshik had always stayed on the right side of things. Even when doing the wrong thing would have provided an easy out to all their hardships, he wasn’t that type of man. YN knew this deep down in her bones. So, when she saw a detained poster pierced to her front door with Hyunshik’s name under it she knew it had been a mistake.

Soojin knew this was a part of her role, didn’t mean she hated it any less. Soojin had woken up that morning to the advisor telling her that the King had relayed his duties of standing council to Jungkook, and Jungkook to her. She didn’t have to do it - not really but it wouldn’t bode well. Even if these were technically not her people, they would be someday and it would be better to win their favor than their apathy. Soojin was meant to be the velvet to the Jeon's leather and she would play her role well. So she had sat in that wretched chair that seemed to wrap around her, tightening every second she sat upon it. It wasn’t too difficult, most of the cases were simple cases. As she was not a princess by blood, she couldn’t make any impactful decisions but it was a bit fun nonetheless to have people look up at her in the opal throne, fear in their eyes. It sent a tingle down her spine.

Still the sensation would fade quickly as the black mamba kept coiling around her form; a reminder that it was not her throne - not yet. “Princess Soojin, the next case.” Soojin felt her eyes roll to the back of her head as she looked down upon Joo Eun feeling nothing but disgust crawl up her throat. The lady was Yoongi’s latest fling, but she felt the need to parade that around the entire court. Though one could tell just by looking at her attire that modesty and sensibility wasn’t something she knew. “What seems to be the problem?” Before Eun could speak a younger girl stepped forward, her attire worn but pleasant. Her eyes were red and brimming with unspilt tears, but somehow the girl’s head remained held high.

“Good Morning your highness, I am here on behalf of my brother to ask that he is released as I believe there may have been a mistake.” The commoner kept her head low as she spoke, body angled in a bow. It wasn’t until she finished speaking that she looked up and Soojin’s eyes met hers. When she gazed into her eyes a weird sense of Jamais Vu consumed Soojin. What? “Why that’s just ridiculous. Why would I lie?” Eun’s voice was a high shrill, too high to be genuine. “I know my brother, he would never steal or harm anyone. Even if they tried to harm him.” The girl pleaded. She never once looked at Eun, perhaps knowing that would be a lost cause. No, all her words were directed towards the princess sitting on the throne. “Are you implying something?! Look at these people, we give them everything. Allow them to live under us, yet they bite the hand that feeds them.”

Soojin would’ve normally agreed with Eun’s statement, but her attention was focused on the girl. She knew her from somewhere but it almost felt like what she was seeing wasn’t real. An illusion. A vision. “There are no witnesses. My brother doesn’t even have access upstairs. How would he steal?” It seems that Eun hadn’t thought out her plan to incriminate the boy or she hadn’t expected that he would have someone come to bat for him. Nonetheless, it seemed this case was a simple one. Soojin raised her hand to signal her decision, about to wave in the direction of the village girl until -

“He assaulted me! He asked me to bed him and when I refused he threatened to kill me.” Ah, so that’s what had happened. Poor boy had refused Eun’s advancements and now he was paying the price. “Do you have any proof of this statement Mistress Eun?” She didn’t need proof, Soojin knew that. Just her words were enough to condemn him. No one would ever dare question a noble - their words were gold. Still, Soojin felt pity for the girl. “He took that necklace off of me.” Eun pointed towards the girl’s neck.

“No, this is my mother’s. She left it to me when she passed.”

“Liar. As if a vermin as yourself could afford something like that.”

“Please Mistress Eun. Please, Your Highness.”

Soojin was beginning to get a headache with all the back and forth. She rubbed her temples slowly. Just let Jungkook deal with this when he gets back. For some reason, something twisted in her gut when she had that thought but she ignored it. Soojin leaned back, feeling more claustrophobic by the second. A sigh left her lips, “The prince will deal with this when he returns. Take her to the dungeons.”

YN couldn’t stop the tears flowing from her eyes even if she wanted to. She’d long given up on holding in the sobs that racked through her body as her brother’s fate dawned on her. Hyunshik...we should’ve run away. There was a time for should've. If only she could’ve gone back and recognized the absolute terror in her brother’s eyes. The dread. Please. Please. Please. Please. I’ll do anything. It seems someone had heard her pleas for YN felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand, goosebumps rising beneath her clothes. YN turned to look past the iron gate, she saw nothing but pure darkness - but she could feel it. Her lips parted, but nothing came out. She was hesitating, afraid of what would occur next. Unsure if she was prepared for it.

“Who are you?” She heard a slight snicker back. YN jumped off the slab of metal she was previously sitting on. Her eyes pierced into the dark abyss trying to find something, but she came out empty-handed.

“Someone.” It was curt, monotone in its nature. Not giving much away except that it was a man.

“Why are you here?” The question was echoed back at her. YN stepped forward heart wavering, but her voice was strong. “You know why.” It seems he didn’t have a remark for that. Something inside YN told her to keep her guard up, she had only ever felt like that when she was younger and living in the slums. Life had been a tightrope walk without a safety net and YN felt transported back to her youth.

“Tell me YN, if you had to choose, would you rather be the fool or the one doing the fooling?”

“Does it matter?” YN didn’t see where he was taking this conversation.

“Better to be the fooler than the one being fooled.” The smugness seeping from his tone was palpable.

“I disagree.”

“Oh?” His voice seemed closer now, though she still couldn’t tell which direction it came from.

YN stepped forward once again, “I’d rather trust blindly, stupidly, and be fooled than be the one doing the fooling.”

“Why?” The voice was even closer now, YN threaded carefully still uneasy about not knowing who this mysterious man was. There was something familiar about his tone, though she couldn’t quite place it.

“Because the world needs more of it...hope I mean.”

“I don’t think that is what it comes down to.” YN could feel his disappointment, but she didn’t care. The man seemed to want to converse in circles and she wasn’t in the mood to entertain whims.

“Doesn’t it? I would rather live a life full of hope that the world out there is good and pure, even if it is a short one. It would be worse to live a long life without hope where I rob others of it.” There was a strong silence that followed. As if the man was mulling over her words, then suddenly there was a shift in the air: it became lighter. Pushing all the warnings aside YN took one last step until she was mere inches from the metallic rods that imprisoned her in the cell.

“I can save your brother.” YN felt disoriented as if the air had been robbed from her lungs before she even knew it. Happiness swelled in her. Hope-filled her, but - “Did you not just confess to fooling others?” YN knew better than to trust the words of a mysterious stranger lurking in the shadows. It seemed the man was aware of this for he finally stepped out of the shadows and into the light, his body inches from the door.

Jeon Jungkook, the prince, stood in front of YN with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. It was a cocky smile, the type that alluded to an inside joke or something ironic. “Did you not just confess to trusting blindly?” YN peered into his eyes trying to decipher what he wanted. Though YN was trustful, she wasn’t a fool to the way things worked. The only time a man in a position of power like Jungkook offered something to someone like her - is because he wanted something in return. The devil is in the details. YN had heard enough stories about the Jeon family growing up to know they gave the devil a run for his money. ”What do you want?”

“Hm,” Jungkook seemed to actually think this over as he glanced away from her and towards the long dark corridor. He’s trying to play it off. “Your highness?” At this, his attention returned to the woman in front of him. “Yes?” Jungkook whispered, his eyebrow quirking.

“What would your highness like in return for helping my brother?” YN had tossed caution out the window, the second she realized it was the prince she was speaking to. Not that royalty could be trusted - no - but he was the only person who could aid her. Besides Princess Soojin, who threw me here in the first place. The princess had appeared to be on YN’s side only for her to throw her in a dark cell the second her patience wore out. If she treated her subjects like nuisances rather than people, it seemed she wasn’t the good well-mannered princess the media portrayed her to be. Just another spoke in the wheel.

Jungkook could see the wheels turning behind her eyes and spoke quickly, “I am lonely and require stimulation...of the intellectual kind, of course.”

This dazed YN for a bit, “You wish to debate?!” At this the prince shook his head, “I wish to converse. It’s not often I get to speak with my subjects, especially not ones as well-versed as yourself.” That was a back-handed compliment if there ever was one.

“Perhaps if you did, your highness, you would find that many of your subjects are as well-versed as I am. Some even more. It’s a survival tactic, not a skill.” Hyunshik had always said that tongue of hers would only get her into trouble. Considering how intrigued Jungkook looked by her response, he was right.

“How so?”

“It's a dog eat dog world out there.” More like a snake eat snake.

“And yet you trust blindly, stupidly even and hope.”

YN had no response for that so she chose to change the subject, “When do you wish for this to happen?” Jungkook chuckled, stepping closer to the iron bars. YN could faintly feel his breath and he hers. “I’ll send a guard to escort you.” YN didn’t respond, something in the back of her mind warned her against this. Told her to turn her back at the extended hand, to bite it, spit at it, and never accept it. However, to do so would mean losing her brother; the only thing she had left in this life. As if sensing her reluctance Jungkook gave that final nudge, the one that would send her tumbling down the rabbit hole.

“What would you do to save your brother?”

“Anything.”

Yoongi had never excelled at pleasantries or small talk, he preferred standing in the corner and merely observing everyone else. His father used to joke that it would’ve been better if he was born in the lower class, that way he could live his life unnoticed and unbothered. Still, there were definite benefits to being in his position and Yoongi had long taken advantage of them. Plus, the food wasn’t too bad. Although having to sit in awkward lunches such as this one often turned any delicacies in his mouth to ash. He picked up on the discussion between his two patrons, but when the subject of Eun came up Yoongi scowled. Yoongi had taken her as a Mistress simply to entertain him. She wasn’t too bad to look at and did decently in bed.

Her blowjobs, though, we're out of this world. Still, she proved too difficult to handle and had been bragging nonstop about being a Duke’s lover. While normally Yoongi wouldn’t care, it would only cause trouble at home and Yoongi already caused enough of it all by himself. Deciding it better not to dwell on those thoughts in public, especially in front of them, Yoongi’s attention returned to the Prince and Princess. Why the hell am I here?!

Yoongi had been resting in his room when he’d been informed that he'd been invited to a private lunch with the Prince. Though gauging from how out of it the young man seemed, especially whenever his lover spoke to him Yoongi was only more confused as to why he was here. Yoongi was in a high standing position, but there were definitely others who outranked him. Other’s that made for much more interesting players in the Jeon’s chess game, but it seemed the younger had a soft spot for him. It wasn’t the first time the prince had shown him a kindness he reserved for those closest to him. Maybe it meant he liked him? Or maybe he sees me as easy prey? Actually the more he focused on the young prince, the more it dawned on him that Jungkook was daydreaming - he was thinking.

“My mother has called and requested I visit her, says it’s an emergency. I’ll be leaving right after lunch and should return the day after tomorrow.”

Jungkook’s entire aura had shifted, a gleeful look now in his eyes. “Is that so?” pondered the young man, with an exaggerated pout on his lips. Yoongi had fallen victim to that trick so often he now recognized it, but it seems the Princess was none the wiser. “Don’t miss me too much,” Soojin replied, a smile on her face. Yoongi was often confused by the dynamic between the two of them. They didn’t act like lovers - no it was as if they were both pretending to be lovers and just happened to be really good at it. Or at least that’s how it should’ve been. For when Soojin stared at Jungkook for too long, her mask began to slip and Yoongi could see traces of affection and admiration in her eyes. Jungkook’s, however, remained forever blank and cold.

Their relationship reminded him of his own. “Tell me Yoongi, how has Jisoo been doing?” Shit, he wasn’t prepared for the cards to turn on him. Now both of them gazed at him with unrecognizable looks in their eyes. The masks are back on. “She’s well. Resting at home and tending to my mother.” Yoongi grumbled, he didn’t like being asked about his wife. It only served as a reminder to him and everyone else how undeserving he was of her. Thankfully the conversation had strayed away from him again onto some random girl. Yoongi let out a sigh he didn’t know he was holding in. I need a break. Well, he had been taking a break he hadn’t seen his wife or lover in weeks, but now he needed a break from his break. Yoongi was getting angsty again and there was only one person who could fix that for him.

“If the two of you would excuse me, I’ll be going now.”

Before Yoongi could even blink, Soojin had left the room; left him alone with Jeon Jungkook. Those sharp snake-like eyes trailed over him like a beast assessing its prey. Any second now Jeon would strike, Yoongi could feel it. “Say Yoongi, your little songbird, does he still sing?” Yoongi was frozen in shock. H-how does he know? Jungkook had his head resting casually on his hand with an almost unamused look on his face, though Yoongi could see the wickedness gleaming in his eyes.

There was no point in denying the accusation, Yoongi knew, but perhaps to agree would cause so much more harm. “Not anymore, your highness.”

At this, the man sighed, “What a shame. I was in need of his services.” Jungkook was baiting him, Yoongi was too much of a coward not to bite.

“Services for what?”

“Nothing too major, just information.”

Information Yoongi could deal with, but there was something about the dark look in the Prince’s eyes that unnerved him. Still, this was a test, Yoongi would lose far too much if he failed it. God bless the poor soul. “Who?”

Yoongi didn’t miss the way a grin spread Jungkook’s lips apart.

It was hours later that a guard did appear, his jaw sharp and nose held up high as if she were scum. YN was used to nobility treating people like her as if they were inferior, but a guard? YN smiled a bit which only seemed to upset the man more, for he practically dragged her out of her cell before threading through the dark corridors of the dungeons. The castle was beautiful - there was no denying that. Exorbitant and excessive in only the way the rich could be, still the palette of the castles were mostly shades of blacks, greys, and muted whites so it didn’t appear as if Midas had gone mad. It was a fairly long walk until they reached what she assumed were the apartments. The room they seemed to be heading for was the one at the end of the hall, whose doors stood taller and prouder than those around it.

YN did note how she hadn’t seen many nobles loitering around and decided it must be offseason. Why else would they let me into a room? The doors slid open before either the guard or YN could even touch them, which confused her. The guard wasted no time in pushing her inside and gesturing towards the bed, “Twenty minutes.” He stated before slamming the doors shut. For her to say the room wasn’t beautiful would be a lie, it was so unlike everything else the palace was: simple and almost vacant. Though what definitely stood out the most were the tall rounded stained glass doors that led out onto a balcony. There was something so beautiful about the way the moonlight streamed into the room, creating a beautiful highlight that contrasted all the darkness in the room. YN found herself walking towards the doors, drawn in by the moonlight.

When was the last time she’d seen the moon? Surely, it couldn’t have been so long ago? Her hands reached out towards the handles, as she pondered if the moon would look that much beautiful up close. It must. All beautiful things look better upon closer inspection. She was so close - STOP! YN jumped back and looked around the room, catching sight of the dress on the bed. It was a black embroidered gown, from just putting it on YN was sure it was worth more than her life. She assumed she should be using this time to make herself look presentable to the prince, but all she really did was try to smooth down her hair and calm her heart. It wasn’t long until there was a harsh knock on the door before the guard from before threw the door open.

YN assumed they were heading down towards one of the dining rooms or maybe a parlor, but instead they continued to climb upwards until they reached the top floor. Where the guard made a sharp left turn they were met with large opal doors with the Jeon’s crest embedded in it. “I thought we were having dinner.” The guard smirked, raising his fists to knock. The doors opened to Jungkook sitting at the head of a table with an elaborate feast in front of him, whilst he sipped on a glass of wine. “Thank you, Jinyoung. You’re excused.” Jinyoung smiled and bowed, before pushing YN into the room.

YN lingered by the door, her focus lay entirely on the man ahead and now that she was in his presence without a barrier to separate them - she realized how threatening he was. Almost as if the cell was keeping him out. The room itself screams Jeon in every sense of the word, it's dark colors accented with green, silvers, and golds. It must’ve been the largest room in the castle save for the king’s - a penthouse in a way. “Come, sit. I don’t bite.” Somehow she doubted that. YN walked towards Jungkook counting the steps as she gazed straight ahead, she wanted to sit away from the prince but he had other plans as the chair to his left was the only one not tucked in. It was once she sat that he finally looked at her, trailed his eyes delicately across her body.

YN shifted uncomfortably aware that the evening dress, though long, still accentuated her figure in a way she wasn’t used to. YN cleared her throat, “I thought we were going to have dinner.” He seemed to understand what she was implying but played coy nonetheless.

“Is this not dinner?” Jungkook gestured to the row of dishes in front of them. Not when it’s served in your bedroom it isn’t.

YN surmises all of this was supposed to impress her, but all it truly did was make her annoyed at the prince. There was a clear disconnect between the palace and the world that existed outside the tall metallic gates. If the prince was willing to spend all this for a simple village girl, what might he do for someone of actual ranking and value? Then again he was a Jeon and their reputation precedes them, the image they conjured up wasn’t of ‘for the people’ but rather ‘for themselves.’

“You don’t seem impressed.” The prince leaned forward, eyes piercing into hers.

“I am…”

“Please, don’t hold back on my account.” Jungkook leaned back, resting on his chair. One of his legs was perched up and his hand resting on it, as the wine inside the glass swirled around. His eyebrow quirked, indicating he was waiting for a response and YN thought it best to simply give him what he wanted. After all, hadn’t he asked her not to hold back?

“It just seems like a gluttonous amount of food for two people.” She remarked looking at it.

Jungkook chuckled, “Gluttonous that’s a big word.” The stare that YN sent him had him laughing. She was taken aback by it, his laugh: the way his crinkled eyes shined and the melodic airiness of it. “Sorry but you are quite amusing. Telling the prince off for ordering too much food.”

YN’s eyes widened and she was quick to apologize, biting the inside at her cheek while she scolded herself for forgetting her place. Jungkook dismisses her apology, waving her off. “It’s refreshing.” For a second, YN felt comfortable around him. Truly comfortable, as if they were young acquaintances - not a prince and his subject. Someone next in line for the throne while YN was fighting to prove her brother’s innocence. Things would’ve been different. Things could have turned out different for the two of them, were they in another world and another time. Or maybe they were always destined to bring nothing but pain and suffering into each other’s lives. It’s easy to wonder and pretend, but fate is cruel and has a twisted sense of humor. Still, YN wondered if in another world Jungkook and her could’ve become friends. Maybe.

“Tell me about yourself.” It wasn’t a suggestion, more of a statement really. YN places the knife down pausing cutting the steak as she looks up to meet Jungkook’s eyes. There was something lurking in them. “Why?” The prince shrugged as if he was simply trying to make small talk. It didn’t go unnoticed by her how throughout the course of their meal he had gotten closer to her: his chair was tilted towards her, his feet were outstretched so they occasionally brushed hers, and he stared at her as if he were trying to pierce into her soul.

“My mother and father died when I was fairly young, so it has been my brother and I for a while. My brother has been working since he was eleven and I’ve managed to get a job recently,” she moved around the food on her plate. “I haven’t had an easy life, but I don’t have room to complain when there are others who have had it far worse.” YN’s early life hadn’t been easy and she still didn’t know how she got out. Still, there was always someone who had it worse and she had her brother, a good home, a sense of security. Jeon Jungkook might seem polite, or at least he’s good at pretending he is, but he would never understand what it’s like. YN doesn’t want to bother educating him, so the sugar-coated version of her life is better.

YN heard a chair screech and suddenly Jungkook was incredibly close to her, sitting at the edge of his seat. “No, I want to know you. All the little things about you.” The change in his attitude almost gave her whiplash, he was whining now. Like a child that didn’t get what he asked for. That sense of unease crept back into her system as she leaned back trying to get as much distance between the prince and her. “I’m sorry, but why?” It wasn’t a ridiculous question to ask, but the way Jungkook was looking at her made her feel like it was. “Why not?” His dark coal eyes boring into hers were almost predatorial.

Goosebumps began to rise throughout her body the longer the silence prevailed. YN didn’t feel safe anymore, Jungkook looked just about ready to strike at her but instead, he simply smiled. “Why were your parents killed?” What? “Why did you run away from the slums? Why did you move into Giihan? Why were you never engaged?” YN’s jaw slackened as she sat there unable to comprehend how he knew all of this. Finally, Jungkook paused, seeming to deliberate on whether or not he should ask his final question. “Don’t you think it’s inappropriate to live with a man with no blood relation to you?”

YN was frozen with fear, she saw at that moment a brief glimpse of Jeon. What he was capable of. “H-how...” How does he know all those things? How does he know Hyungshik and I aren’t related?

“I had to make sure I wasn’t being fooled.”

Rage. That’s what began to rise inside her, though it was mainly at herself still it was a cruel reminder that to him this was all just a game. Something to entertain him because he was bored. YN grips the chair handles to stand up but freezes when she feels something slither across her neck. Her ears picking up on slight hissing. Jungkook grinned, “Ah yes, that’s Morte. Don’t worry he’s harmless just try not to make any sudden movements.” His eyes were alight with humor, finding the entire situation funny.

The snake settled comfortably on YN’s shoulders and the girl willed herself not to cry. It would only further wound her pride and it might startle the snake. Jungkook reaches over to the wine bottle and pours himself another glass, “By the way, I spoke to Eun. She admitted to having a fancy on the boy and getting upset when he rejected her so blatantly. It’s his fault really if he had gone along with it none of this would have happened.” That wasn’t true if Hyunshik had been caught in an affair with Mistress Eun his corpse would be hanging from the gallows.

“Thank you, your highness. May I see my brother now?”

“Oh, he’s still imprisoned and awaiting trial.”

“...what?” YN couldn’t comprehend what he was saying. He had said, he had agreed. A sudden flashback of the first words Jungkook had ever spoken to her, “would you rather be the fool or the one doing the fooling? Better to be the fooler than the one being fooled.” It wasn’t until she felt the tears rolling down her face that YN realized she was crying. The next words were the ones that solidified how naive she’d been. “I only agreed that I could save your brother if you had dinner with me, not that I would.” YN felt her entire world begin to crumble. Here she was playing dress-up, feasting with the prince, trusting him, while her brother was about to be imprisoned for the rest of his mortal life. She should feel upset, disappointed, enraged, but all she felt was a cold apathy overtakes her as it finally dawned on her why she was here.

She was a nobody and yet the prince had visited her, dolled her up, and had her delivered straight to his bedroom. There was only one way to save her brother.

“What would it take for you to save my brother?”

“From imprisonment?”

“Yes.”

“A kiss...just one.”

“Do you swear on your life?”

Jungkook laughed, “I swear on the life of everyone in this kingdom, save for yourself of course.”

It was sudden really how she leaned forward and pressed her lips against his, tears still trailing down her face. It was so sudden in fact that it startled the snake, who sank its fangs straight into her neck.

Yoongi had barely the night before images of his loved ones massacred while a snake suffocated him plagued his mind. It had been months since Yoongi had been home, but he had this urgent need to return; to make sure everything was okay. His current definition of okay meant that everyone was alive and not dead by the hand of some psychotic prince who had recently found himself a new toy to play with. It was quite ironic how much Yoongi felt the need to criticize Jungkook, considering he too had fallen victim to the same type of infatuation. He would never dare recognize it as such though, no, what they had was different. No one understood him like he did. No one would ever love him as much as Yoongi did. J-

“Duke Min?” Yoongi spun around and was greeted with the sight of a young girl. There was a sense of urgency, need, in her eyes and Yoongi thought she looked familiar. “Pardon, but I must be getting somewhere.” Yoongi spun back around but was halted when she gripped the sleeve of his jacket. “Please sir, it’s regarding Mistress Eun.” Yoongi rolled his eyes and proceeded to walk away, Eun was clearly too much of a hassle and he would get rid of her as soon as he could. “Whatever issues you may have with Mistress Eun have nothing to do with me, take it up with her or the king for all I care,” Yoongi grumbled, speeding up trying to get away from the girl but she chased after him. There was something about her that made him nervous.

The girl took off in a sprint and managed to get ahead enough to block him, “Please. Mistress Eun has accused my brother of stealing and he is to stand trial today,” Yoongi tried to push past her but the girl wouldn’t budge. “The prince has already promised his help but if you could just -” No wonder she looked so familiar. Yoongi’s widened eyes cast downward, truly taking in the girl for the first time. Fuck. It was her. Yoongi felt a deep sense of remorse crawling up his throat, it practically choked him as he saw the desperation in the girl’s eyes. “- just get her to drop the charges then the entire trial could be avoided. Please I’ll do anything.” No, it wasn’t because of her picture that she was familiar to him it was her expression. That was the exact same expression his songbird had when Yoongi had first laid eyes on him.

“How many lives will you ruin all to satisfy your needs?!” As many as it took, Min Yoongi was not a good man. He would never be. He’d been raised with a silver spoon in his mouth and the world handed to him on a silver platter like it was his to play with. Yoongi only really took advantage of it when he saw something he wanted and now he’s willing to risk everything to make sure it is forever in his hold. Even the life of the poor girl staring up at him as if he was her last hope.

“I’ll get Mistress Eun to drop the charges. You have my word.” Words are empty. It is actions that truly speak. Yet when Yoongi saw her smile, the way her eyes filled with hope, he realized that he had a lot more in common with Jeon Jungkook than he previously thought.

YN waited among the crowd, her hood up to shield her from the downpour of rain that fell. Person after person had stood trial with whipping, banishment, imprisonment, and other methods of torture being the most common sentence. Death was rarely ruled as most of the cases were light criminal offenses. She thanked the gods, as YN didn’t think she could stomach seeing a man being hanged. Still, she knew some of the people around her begged to differ, they would scream and curse at the men on the wooden stand begging for blood and pain. It was moments like these that reminded her that although the nobility was cruel, sometimes they were no better.

“Kim Hyunshik.”

YN saw as her brother stepped up the stairs and into the stand. His clothes were dirty and full of grime, his lip was cut, and the bottom of his eye had begun to swell. It hadn’t even been forty-eight hours, yet he still looked like he’d been through hell and back. Her heart pounded in her chest as she willed herself to calm down. Hyunshik’s eyes darted all over the crowd and YN knew he was looking for her, yet he would have difficulty finding her in this heavy rain. The guard pulled out a paper, beginning to read the offenses and the verdict. YN held her breath.

“Kim Hyunshik stands accused of thievery, disrespecting a commanding officer, and assault.” The crowd began to spew insults at him, some going as far as spitting. “The court finds the defendant...not guilty.” Oh, thank god. YN almost cries of happiness. Hyunshik seems to visibly relax too, thankful that he wouldn't have to spend the rest of his life behind bars.

“Kim Hyunshik also stands accused of plotting, assaulting a member of the court, and conspiring against the crown.” What? No. The crowd became louder, venom spewing out their mouths towards Hyunshik as YN stood in shock. This can’t be happening. “The court finds the defendant guilty and sentenced him to...death.” No. No. No. No. NO! The crowd goes into a frenzy with jovial shouts as Hyunshik is dragged away to the post by the left of the stage. YN tries to fight against the crowd to make her way to her brother, desperate to reach him. “Hyunshik! Hyunshik!” Her brother looks around panicked, begging for mercy as he is placed on the false bottom and the noose is placed around his neck. It is then that their eyes finally meet, Hyunshik staring straight into YN’s eyes, his mouth moving gently as he stares at her with nothing but affection. ‘I love you.’ He mouths.

The lever is pulled.

#yandere bts #yandere jungkook x reader #yandere bts x reader #yandere jeon jungkook x reader #yandere jeon jungkook #yandere jungkook #bts x reader #jeon jungkook x reader #jungkook x reader #bts jungkook #prince of nothing #girlmeetsliv3 #bangtanarmynet #prince of nothing masterpost #pon

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noladyme · 4 years ago

Text

The Frog Princess. Chapter 1

“You can all bloody kiss my ass!”, I growled at the men standing around me. “There isn’t a chance in Hel I’m getting on that ship!”.

“Breathe, Y/N”, Eist tried calmingly. “This is what’s best for everyone”. “Best for you and your bloody war!”, I snarled.

In the corner of the great hall stood a mess of cases, containing most of my earthly goods. None of it had any importance to me; except for the small chest of knickknacks I’d gathered while on trips around the smaller islands of Skellige, and the one time Eist had brought me to Cintra Capital with him.

“Y/N, you’re not a child. Stop acting like one”. I smacked him across the face. A murmur of stifled laughter rose among the leather clad men surrounding me and Eist.

King Eist Tuirseach. The great leader of our lands; and my pain in the ass older cousin; who was getting ready to ship me of to a place far away – that I had no intention of going to.

“What you’re really trying to say, is that I’ve gotten too old to marry of to someone worth while; so now you’re using me as payoff to a sweaty sister-fucker!”. I picked up a goblet, and threw it at the wall; mead dripping down from where I’d hit. “You don’t know that he’s sweaty”, Eist smiled.

“Eist…”, I said, trying for sweetness. He looked at me pointedly. “When we are in public, you’ll address me as is fit my title”.

“My liege”, I sneered. “Great majestic cousin, and king of these isles. I am merely trying to explain to you, that if you intend to proceed with this plan of shipping me off to Temeria; there is a great chance that I might burn this whole fucking castle to the ground, and piss on the ashes!”.

I heard a gruff chuckle from a dark alcove connected to the hall.

Eist sighed. “Well, we’ll just have to keep you away from fire until you’ve boarded the ship”.

Rage boiling inside me, I stomped my foot into the ground, and screamed.

Eist closed his eyes and raised his eyebrows; shaking his head. “You can scream all you want, my dear. This is happening”, he said calmly. “No!”, I yelled. “Yes”, he answered. “You are going to Temeria. You are marrying Foltest. You’ll bear him whatever children he wishes to produce. And you’ll do it all with a smile”.

A stranger stepped into the light from the alcove. He was tall, and built like a boulder – muscled and strong. His eyes shone a strange shade of amber, and his hair was grey- verging on white.

“Why does he even want me? I have no real title…”, I said. “You’re my cousin. That is title enough”, Eist interrupted. He sat down at the head of the table, pouring himself a new goblet of mead. Apparently the one I had thrown was his. “Foltest needs a queen. You are a highborn woman; with a dowry that goes with it”. He took a sip from the goblet. “You also happen to be a bloody pain in the ass; with the reputation that goes with that as well. You are lucky Foltest has agreed to this union. You weren’t exactly an easy sell”.

I laughed out loud, and sat at the table, a few seats from him; worried that I might stab him with a fork if I got too close. “There it is. A sell. I’m a commodity to be traded with”.

“You will do as you’re told, woman!”, Eist said, patience clearly running thin. I wasn’t having it.

“Would you say that to Calanthe?”.

Eist slammed both his fists into the table. “Enough!”, he roared. I froze in place. He breathed deeply, collecting himself. “Y/N; you are my favorite cousin. A fact that has unfortunately let you to run wild and do as you’ve wished for much too long. I cannot allow that to continue anymore”. His pained but resolute eyes met mine. “I know you won’t believe this, but I am doing this for your sake as well. You can no longer call Skellige your home”.

“You’re right”, I said, swallowing tears. “I don’t believe you”.

He looked down, clenched his fists, and sighed. “We’ll speak later. I have to finish planning your travel arrangements”, he said; and stood up, walking in the direction of the whitehaired stranger; who’d been watching our exchange with a smirk on his face.

“Geralt, I wish to discuss something with you”, Eist said, before turning to his men. “Take her to her room. Make sure there are no ropes for climbing out the window; cut up her sheets if you must”. He and the man walked towards the door leading to his private chancery.

“And hide the matches”.

---

I stood in front of a mirror in my now barren room. Thrude – my nanny turned hand matron, and dear friend – was desperately trying to cheer me up.

“Chin up. You’ll be a queen, m’lady”, she said smilingly. “I’ll be a puppet”, I answered. She raised a sponge to cover my face in powder. “Don’t”, I said. “Let them see that I’ve been crying”. She sighed. “At least brush your hair”. She handed me the hairbrush; and went to get my dress for the feast.

It was a ridiculous thing; nothing near what I would have chosen for myself. Black velvet with puffed sleeves, white laced trim; and a white lily on the front of the skirt. They’re dressing me up as the Temerian fucking flag, I thought.

I brushed my hair; and allowed Thrude’s old hands to run through it, braiding it into and intricate crown on the top of my head. When she was finished, I grabbed her hand, and put it to my cheek. “Tootie”. She smiled at my use of the nickname I’d given her as a child. “I could go with you! I could live with you in your cabin. You could continue to train me as a vöelve!”.

“I never trained you to become any such thing”, Thrude said indignantly. I smirked at her. “Teaching me about herbs, healing and monsters? That’s a proper lady’s education?”. “You’d do best to forget those things where you are going”, she said. She put her hands on either side of my face; and looked at me kindly but sternly.

“Listen to me, girl”. I hadn’t been a girl for quite a few years; but her age and the respect I held for her made me accept her choice of words. “Skellige is not the place for you anymore. You are off to a better future than you could ever have here... or anywhere else”.

I snorted in a quite undignified way. “A future as the wife of someone who is only taking me, for the money my cousin will pay him to do so… as a stepmother of a girl conceived through incest; and whose age I am closer to, than I am her fathers!”. I swallowed bile. “I’m going to be sick”. I put my head between my knees; my nose touching the velvet of the dress. She patted my head comfortingly.

“You must leave this place behind”, she said. “Become what is expected of you”. “Instead of…?”. I looked up at her.

She looked down and shook her head. “That’s for another time”. She shuffled her old body in the direction of my bed – the bare mattress reminding me of my cousins’ heartless elimination of my escape plan.

“But there won’t be another time”. I stood up. “I leave tomorrow”.

“Then cherish tonight”, she said.

From under the bed, she pulled out a small pouch; and handed it to me. “My own mother gave me this on my wedding night”, she said; tears in her eyes. “I was saving it for you; for when you’d finally stop being a little imp, and settle down with a good man”. She shook her head. “At least he’s a king…”. I chuckled through my tears, and took the pouch in my hands, opening it. Inside was a silver chain, adorned with an appendage shaped as a small frog.

“Ma’ told me that sometimes you get a frog; but shower it with enough kisses, and it might turn in to a prince”. She helped me put it on. “In your case; I believe it’s the other way around. You are stubborn, you act before you think, and you jump around too much”. She kissed my forehead. “But you can be something more”.

She took both my hands into hers and squeezed them gently. “You can be a queen. And one to be reckoned with!”.

I sniffled. “All I have to do is let a man I don’t know and don’t want, kiss me… and touch me… and…”. I heaved. “I really think I’m going to throw up!”.

She chortled. “He managed to bed his own sister. He must have some charms”. She winked at me. “Might even have a good enough cock to go with them”.

“Tootie!”, I cried out.

“Oh, calm yourself, girl! You know your way around a mands body. We both know that”. She wasn’t wrong, but I wouldn’t give her the pleasure of an answer. In stead I rolled my eyes at her.

“There we are, dearie. Now I recognize you”, she smiled. “Remember, it is not unheard of, for queens to take lovers other than their husbands. You might not even have to bed him that often”.

I sighed. “What am I going to do without you?”.

She patted my cheek. “You are going to grow up”.

---

The great hall was filled with laughter and dancing.

A bard from the continent was playing his lute; surrounded by red-cheeked girls, all vying for his attention. He seemed to me to be an absolute windbag; but I could understand the effect he had on them; blue eyed and brightly smiling.

As I stepped into the room; the music stopped, and the crowd turned to look at me. A roar of cheers and well wishes from all sides; and my strongest impulse was to turn around, and run back up the stairs. Thrude took a firm hold of my hand, and pushed me forward. “Go on, girl. This is your night”.

The bard began his music again, leading the room into a singalong of a gay tune; about a selkie and her lover. Dancing continued, and drinks were flowing. This was a joyous event – and I wanted nothing more than to crawl under a rock; and die.

We were stopped in our tracks by a tall man, I had not met before. “Lady Y/N”, he said haughtily. “Let me congratulate you on this glorious occasion of your engagement and upcoming marriage. I must admit that my master had hoped a different arrangement could have been made. But, alas, here we are”. “I’m sorry”, I said, caught off guard. “Who is your master?”.

“My apologies, my lady”, the man bowed. “I am a representative of Nilfgaard; Gaunter O’Dimm. Loyal servant of the true emperor of the fore mentioned lands”. “Usurper”, Thrude said, and spat at the floor. She pulled at my hand.

“I am sorry, sir, but I must take my leave. I must see my cousin”, I smiled, voice shaking. “Of course, my lady. I wish you good health”, O’Dimm said, and stepped aside for us to pass.

“Who was he?”, I asked Thrude. “No one good”, she answered quietly.

I sat down at the head table, watching the festivities; completely numb. The small silver frog rested between my breasts, cold against my skin.

“You look beautiful”; Eist said from next to me. “I look like a pig for market”, I answered, pulling at the uncomfortable corset Thrude had squeezed me in to. “Well; a lovely pig none the less”, he said.

I spent most of the night staring into space; not touching any of the food placed in front of me. The mead and schnapps on the other hand; I had my fair share of.

“You must eat”, Eist grumbled. “Not fat enough for slaughter yet?”, I sneered. “You’re not being slaughtered. You’re getting married”, he answered. “What’s the difference?”, I mumbled.

A fight broke out in front of the table. Well; not so much a fight as a beating. A drunk distant cousin of Crach an Craite’s new wife, had apparently taken a disliking to the bard reciting a sonnet to his fiancée; and was now dragging him by the nose to the floor in front of us.

“Witcher!”, the drunkard growled. “Control your pet!”.

The whitehaired stranger was leaning against a pillar; staring into a mug of ale. “He’s not my pet”, he muttered with a gruff voice. It sounded like it came from somewhere deep within his chest.

“Well, I don’t know how you do it on the continent”, the drunkard said, “but here in Skellige, if a mutt is acting wild; we cut of his balls!”.

The bard looked terrified. “Geralt!”, he pleaded. “Do something!”. The angry man pulled out his dagger and started waving it in front of him; swaying from side to side – obviously having trouble focusing through his drunken haze.

“Ger… Geralt!”, the bard shrieked. I couldn’t help but chuckle at the scene.

Eist looked at me. “Rognir! You’ve made the lady smile! Thank you!”, he laughed. “Now let the poor lad go”.

The man burped. “Bugger that”, he said, and stepped forward, dagger raised.

A hand grabbed his wrist, and pulled it behind his back. The stranger was holding the drunkard in an armlock. “That’s enough”, he said. “Leave the bard, drink some water; and go remind your woman why she chose you in the first place”.

The bard ran to safety behind a group of girls; who all began to fuss over him.

The stranger let go of Rognir; who shuffled away into a dark corner; where a plump girl was waiting for him.

“Wolf”, Eist said. “Join us”.

He sat down on the opposite side of the table from us; accepting a new mug of ale from a servant.

“Y/N; this is Geralt of Rivia”, Eist said. My eyes met the strangers; who looked like he’d rather be anywhere but here. “Geralt, let me formally introduce you to my cousin; Y/N. The future queen of Temeria”.

“Princess”, the man nodded at me. “I’m not a princess”, I answered, and drained my fourth serving of mead that evening.

“She’s right”, Eist said, and took away my goblet. “Princesses don’t usually drink like sailors”. The stranger chuckled. “Y/N; Geralt is a witcher”, Eist continued. “I have asked him to accompany you on your journey to your new home”. The witcher looked at me again, his eyes narrowed.

“Him?”, I asked. “What happened to me being a future queen? Don’t I get a dozen soldiers on white horses?”, I snorted, and grabbed my glass of schnapps to replace the mead.

“No, you don’t. Mostly because I know you’d either annoy them until they leave you on the side of the road; or try to seduce some of them into letting you run away”, Eist said. I rolled my eyes. “Don’t give me that, Y/N; I’m not stupid. Poor Eyrick’s heart is still broken after your tryst last spring”.

Eyrick – firm, handsome… dumb as rocks. I’d made it clear I was in it for one thing. He’d taken that as a sign that I was playing hard to get; and sold his only goat to buy an engagement ring.

“Did he ever get his goat back?”, I smirked. “I bought him two new ones”, Eist answered. “The other one had already been made into dinner”.

I laughed heartily. “Poor Eyrick”. “Poor goat”, the witcher said. I caught his gaze. Had the situation been different, I might have flirted with him; handsome as he was… in his own rugged, I-don’t-give-a-fuck-what-I’m-wearing-as-long-as-it’s-clean way. I corrected myself as I saw a black stain on his sleeve. “Nekker”, he said, studying my expression. I held his gaze for as long as I dared, and returned to my glass.

A sudden rush of blood to my head reminded me that Eist had probably been right about me eating. I was well and drunk.

“So”, I said, “Eist has asked you, but you’ve not accepted? Coin not good enough?”. “I don’t make it a habit to meddle in politics”, he rumbled, and took a sip from his mug.

“See, cousin?”, I smirked. “Even the witcher knows a livestock trade when he sees one”. “Not the time, Y/N”, Eist muttered, and put a chunk of bread on my plate. I took a resentful bite of it.

“Geralt”, Eist said. “I am not asking you to take a side in the war. I am asking you, as a friend, to keep my cousin safe until she is in the arms of her new husband. Nilfgaard has been making moves north of their boarders, and I worry she will be in danger from kidnapping on her journey”. The witcher sighed. Eist leaned forward, lowering his voice. “You are many things, wolf, but you are not heartless. You’ve already shown me this once. You know what might happen, if they get to her before she reaches her destination”.

“And what is that?”, I interrupted. Eist sat back. “You won’t have to worry about that, if the witcher agrees to my proposition”. He smiled solemnly; before looking back at the witcher. “I will pay what you ask”.

They were both quiet for a long minute. Something unspoken passed between them, before finally the witcher grunted; and nodded. He took another sip of his ale.

“How is the child?”, he asked. “Last I heard, still growing in its mothers’ belly”, Eist answered. “She’s well, and will – along with the child – have the best care both during and after the birth. You know I would not lie about this”. The witcher nodded again.

“So, you will do it?”, Eist asked. “I will. On my terms”.

“Of course”, Eist answered, seeming relieved. “Anything. I have the ship ready for tomorrow afternoon, and will send any men with you that you might need. The lady’s belongings have already been packed, and horses will be waiting for you in Cintra Capital once you make land. Nilfgaard will be relentless in their search for her. They want nothing more right now, than to stop this wedding”.

“No”, the whitehaired man said. “We leave tonight. She packs light; and we take a fisherman’s ship to Attre; travelling on from there. Just her and myself”. A giggle was heard from behind a pillar; where the bard was charming one of the maidens from his fan-club. “And him. If he stays here longer, I’m afraid he’ll become a gelding in no time”, he said, glancing at a stout and angry looking old man; who was probably the girl’s father. Eist nodded.

My head was beginning to clear, as I was realizing what was happening. “You’re sending me with him? On a fisherman’s boat across the ocean; to then traipse across the continent in nothing but my plain dress and boots?”. “You can bring your sgian-dubh”, the witcher chuckled gruffly. I was surprised he knew the word for my hidden knife.

“I don’t have one”, I said, and looked at him defiantly. “Yes you do; you’ve strapped it to your leg”, he said in a bored voice. Eist bit his lip to stop from laughing at my affronted face. “Calm yourself, girl. I haven’t been looking up your skirts. The velvet in your dress gave away the shape of the knife against your thigh”.

I scoffed at him. “Well, you were looking at something, since you noticed my thigh”, I said. “You’d be better of slipping it into your boot. Makes it easier to reach when needed”, he smirked.

I did not like this man.

“Eist…” I began. “It’s done”, Eist answered. “I’m begging you…”, I pleaded, “in the name of the love I know you have for me – please. Don’t make me do this. I can fight. Make me a shield maiden!”. “That would require that you actually were a maiden, dear heart”, he said. “Y/N, I do love you. That is why I am doing this”.

My heart dropped, and tears began to well up in my eyes, as I desperately tried to control my panicked breath.

“Wolf; I’ll send the ship to Cintra tomorrow afternoon, as planned, packed with men and the lady’s luggage. They will travel to Temeria; pretending to be transporting her – but the carriage will be empty”. “That will give us some extra days before they come looking for us”, the witcher answered. He turned to look at me.

“Princess, finish your meal calmly, then make your way to the courtyard. Pretend to be going to relieve yourself. I will meet you there”. I was breathing heavily. “No…”, I whimpered. “Not yet. Let me have tonight. Let me sleep in my own bed. I want to say goodbye”.

Eist was pretending to smile, his eyes miserable. “This is goodbye, Y/N”, he said, and took my hand to kiss. “I wish I could have made things different for you, child. You have my heart and my brotherly love; always”. He stroked my cheek.

“Now go!”. He turned away from me.

From behind me, Thrude put her hand on my shoulder, gesturing for me to follow. Not breathing, I grabbed it, and we walked briskly towards the door nearest our table.

---

We hurried down some stairs. Going in to the courtyard, I halted; making Thrude turn to look at me. “Come along, dearie. We must haste”. “Tootie… will I ever see you again?”. She looked down. “I hope so, child”. She kissed my cheek.

“Princess!”, someone hissed from the shadows. The whitehaired witcher stepped into the moonlight. “Follow me”. He walked towards the stables. Thrude let go of my hand, and patted my back to follow him. “Go on!”, she whispered.

I walked into the stable, where the witcher and the bard were waiting. “My lady!”, the young man said, and bowed in reverence. “It has been a great honor to perform at this extraordinary event, but unfortunately my friend here insists that we must leave”. He grabbed my hand and kissed it, beaming at me.

“She’s coming with us”, the witcher said; readying his horse – a beautiful red mare.

The bard looked from me to his friend. “She’s… the package?”, he asked in disbelief. “Yes”, the other man answered. “Geralt… are you sure this is a good idea?”; the bard said below his breath. “No”, the witcher grumbled, and looked at me indifferently. “Change”, he said, and threw a satchel on the ground in front of me. I was getting tired of being bossed around. “Why?”, I asked. “Because I said so”. “Go to Hel”, I said. The bard gasped at my words. “Bad-mannered words for a lady!”, he proclaimed. “Go fuck yourself, milksop”, I sneered.

“Geralt!”, the bard cried out. “Shut up, Jaskier. Do you want the whole castle to know what we’re doing?”, the witcher said; and walked towards me, picking up the satchel.

“Put on the clothes in the bag. I’m not asking you again”. I smirked at him defiantly.

He grabbed my arm, and looked at me; dormant rage in his eyes. His hold on me was strong, but not painful. “I will strip you down myself if needed”, he said.

I ripped the satchel from his hands, and went behind a wall to change. Inside the bag was a simple white chemise; and a blue, sleeveless peasant dress, which could lace up in the front, making me able to put it on myself. I reluctantly removed my sgian-dubh from my thigh, and slipped it into my boot.

From behind the wall I hear muffled talking.

“Geralt, this is madness. You can’t drag the future queen of Temeria across the continent on horseback”, the bard – Jaskier – said. “She needs pomp and… spectacle and ceremony; and everything else that goes with the title. Not to mention that she is rude; and will probably get in the way when we are fighting monsters!”. “You don’t fight Jaskier. You moan and whine, and run away at any sign of danger”, the witcher answered. “That’s not the point, Geralt… Geralt… Look at me when I’m talking to you!”. “What are you; my wife?”. “Gods forbid. I’m quite sure I’d be able to make a better match!”. “Well, if you come all the way to Temeria with us, maybe Foltest will choose you in stead of the princess. He does have strange tastes”.

“I’m not a princess!”, I thundered, and stomped out to face them.

The witcher looked at me, clearly about to roar for me to shut up. At the same moment, Thrude stepped in to the stable, carrying a gray cloak.

“Are you all ready to leave then?”, she said, and put the cloak around my shoulders, tying it under my chin. “Yes”, the witcher answered, and climbed onto his horse. “Come”, he said, and reached his hand out to me.

“She gets to ride?”, Jaskier asked woundedly.

I put my hand into the witchers, and he pulled me into the saddle in a swift and strong move; to sit in front of him, my back to his chest. He smelled like fresh dirt; musky herbs and metal.

“Pomp and spectacle, Jaskier”, his voice rumbled behind me. “Hood up, girl”, he demanded, and I did as asked.

I looked at the bard. “The grey stallion”, I said earnestly. “It’s mine. You can bring it as far as the ship”. Thrude smirked, and shook her head at me.

“Witcher; you will take care of her”, she said. A command; not a question. The witcher grunted behind me. “As promised”, he said. Thrude nodded.

With a last look towards my beloved old friend; I kissed the frog still hanging around my neck; and we we’re off.

---

We rode through the night, reaching a small harbor when the moon was at its highest. A fisherman was waiting for us, standing on the dock by an old boat; just large enough to transport all of us, and the witchers horse.

After Jaskier had gotten of the grey stallion, I smacked it’s behind, making it run of into the trees.

“Eist won’t like it when his favorite horse is gone from the stables”, the witcher said. Jaskier looked from him to me with horror on his face. “I’m a dead man!”, he whimpered.

The witcher chuckled silently, and handed me the satchel that had held my “new” dress. “Your name is Zaba. You are an herbalist in training, on your way to Lyria; to learn from your new master there”. I looked at him confused. “Zaba?” “It means frog”, he added, and turned to lead his horse onto the boat.

I frowned, and looked down at my necklace. Frog. Opening the satchel, I found in it some dried herbs, and a small book; filled out with what I recognized to be Thrude’s handwriting. There were recipes for draughts against headaches and simple stomach pains. Most of them I already knew; as Thrude had been diligent in her training of me as a non-vöelve. I had never been able to see the future, or predict next year’s crop; but I did know my way around simple healing of wounds and the occasional childbirth. I’d also managed to avoid pregnancy with the few lovers I’d had.

Along with my herbalist gear, there were fresh undergarments and stockings; and a few copper coins.

The fisherman giving me a hand; I stepped onto the boat; almost forgetting that this might be the last time my feet would be touching Skellige soil. The witchers horse brayed.

“I don’t like it any more than you do, Roach. But we’ll be in Attre before you know it.”, the witcher said to it. I looked on in wonder.

“He talks to his horse. You best get used to it”, Jaskier said, stepping onto the boat after me. He didn’t look like he’d forgiven me for making him a horse-thief just yet.

I walked up to the mare, standing on the other side of it than the witcher. “Her name is Roach?”, I asked. “Yes”, he said, not meeting my eyes.

I put my hands on the horse’s muzzle, and blew gently at it; the horse responding in kind. The witcher looked at me with narrowed eyes. “Hello, Roach”, I said, and scratched a spot behind its ear. “Thanks for the ride”.

I went to sit at the stern. “Wouldn’t the lady be more comfortable below deck?”, the fisherman asked. “She’ll be fine”, the witcher rumbled in response; and sat down to lean against a barrel.

We set off; the wind in our favor. It wasn’t long before my home islands became dots in the distance behind us.

I might not have a home there anymore, I thought. But no one is going to tell me where I will make a new one!

---

Thanks for reading. Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list.

- no lady

#the witcher netflix #the witcher #geralt of rivia #geralt of rivia x reader #the witcher fic #jaskier

115 notes · View notes

apenapaperandadoofus · 4 years ago

Note

(not angst here, sorry) So, Jumin said he had a imaginary friend at 7 (this maybe this is a joke), but what if it was real? What if it was at the island he was sent alone at 6? And what if it wasn't imaginary? But a kid that it wasn't supposed to be there (because their mother worked there) and what if it was a girl? And Jumin meets her again there??

AH ANON THATS ADORABLE AND I LOVE IT

Also might make it a series?? Oooo thank you for the idea nonny!

And I added some music too. I dunno why but you can listen to it while you read it tho!

Imaginary Friend: (Jumin x Fem!MC) Part 1

Song:

You looked at the huge mansion in front of you. You had never seen a house as big as this one, and you always wondered if the people there sometimes got lost on the way to the bathroom, or the kitchen.

You imagined the way the house must’ve looked. Did it have a library? It probably did, with so many books that you might never be able to finish, no matter if you spent your whole life there. Was there a pool? Maybe a garden? You wondered what it looked like. You had seen that in some rich people’s homes the gardens all had funny bushes in shape of animals, or people. You thought it was kind of dumb, really, to have a bush shaped as an elephant, but you also really wanted to see one for some reason. It was silly, really. You wondered what it must be like, living in that huge house. Was the person living there lonely? Did they like it, or where they sad about it?

Walking in those cold halls at night, no one around to say goodnight, to tuck you away or give you a goodnight kiss.

It felt...sad.

As you wondered what the person living there must be like, you suddenly felt a cold hand tightly grab your arm, and you quickly looked to the side.

Your mother glared at you through her glasses, a stern look on her face. “Did you hear what I said, Y/N?”

You didn’t. But you didn’t really want to tell her that, you didn’t know what she might do. But you gulped and slowly nodded, admitting your crime. I mean the punishment might be worse if she did find out you had been lying.

Your mother let out an exasperated sigh and rubbed her temples in annoyance. She always did that, was always annoyed with everything and everyone. She wasn’t always like that though, you had vague memories of her smiling and dancing with you in your huge living room. That was before...well before everything went to shit.

Michelle was a tutor. She had been a teacher on one of the best private schools before though.. She was a strict woman, with very little patience, and she shed no mercy for her students. It was the same for her daughter. Your mother had become like that when your father, the CEO of a very prestigious company left her for his receptionist, a man named Kyle. You never got why your mother hated him so much, since you remember that whenever you went to visit your father, Kyle would be ready for you with a huge bag of candy, and hey, who would hate someone who always gave you such delicacies?

Still, your mother obviously didn’t care for the candy, and she was filled with an immense rage. That was when she began to change. First she threw every possession of your father in the trash and burned it. Then she promised that she would never marry again, after many failed attempts to get another partner. Your mother became colder after you had to sell your house, and move to South Korea, Seoul with the little money you had left.

There she managed to find plenty of jobs that paid well, money seemed to be the only thing that satisfied her. And so, when she got the chance to teach the son of a billionare owner of one of the most famous companies in Seoul, your mother couldn’t refuse. She was the perfect candidate, she was a smart woman who had many achievements after all. Thus, a week later after that strange phone call she didn’t hestitate when she pulled you out of your school, packed your bags and flew you to an island that you had never heard of before. She of course had to bring you, I mean what else could she have done? She made it abundantly clear though that you were a weight on her shoulders that she hated carrying.

“Y/N!!” Your mother shouted again, and you nervously looked at her. She pushed you away from the huge mansion, instantly pulling you away from your daydreaming of whoever might be living there. “Listen darling, I’ve explained this to you on the plane, but I’ll do it again, since I’m sure it went through one ear and out of the other. You need to follow my every order in here alright? This is a very important opportunity for mommy, and you can’t screw this up.” She glared at you when she said that and you guiltily looked at the ground. She was always afraid you were going to somehow screw up even at the simplest of things. “I will be teaching a boy here. His father hired me to tutor him for a whole year, but we might get more if we’re lucky. When I’m away I’m going to need you to stay in your new room to keep busy, I don’t want you to move from there, alright?”

Hearinf that you excitedly turned around and gave your mother a big smile. “Mum, will we be living in that mansion?! And is there really a boy?! Can I meet him?”

“Absolutely not. We won’t be living there, and you won’t even set a foot on that place. We’ll be living on a place nearby. Look here we are.” Your mother pointed behind you while she said it.

You turned to look and felt your stomach drop as you looked at your new...home.

Having stared at the magnificent mansion and your hopes just going through the roof, what you felt as you looked at the sad little house in front of you was greater than disappointment.

It was awful. You wrinkled your nose as your mother pushed you to keep up with her, as she took out a set of keys and opened the ugly little door.

The home was...actually pretty nice. But not as nice as a mansion. The walls were a very dull white, and the first thing you saw was a boring living room, the a brown leather couch in the middle, with a TV hanging on the wall. Someone had put some paintings to hang on the walls, as if to try and make the place look livelier, but they had clearly failed. You saw that on the two walls of the living room were four sets of doors, two o each wall. While your mother went out to talk to the men behind you carrying your luggage, you decided to go and explore. First you went to the last door on the right, behind the couch, and you opened it to find a big room.

It was the master bedroom, that was probably were your mother was staying. The room was actually quite spacious, with a big king bed in the center of the wall, and a wooden desk on the side. On the corner of the room there was another door, which led to a bathroom that contained a bath tub and, well, the things that bathrooms have. It was nothing special but it did look pretty, like those fancy hotel bathrooms you had seen before on trips with your mom and dad.

You quickly left the room and opened the door beside it. It led to the kitchen. Why did the kitchen have a door? Who the hell knows, you are a 7 year old kid, not an architect, so you couldn’t really answer the question. Still the kitchen wasn’t that bad. It was still the same dull white, like the whole house, but it was pretty. Off to the side was a little room that had a washing machine, and a dryer. Boring.

You left and went to the other side of the living room. Your mother was now standing in the main doorway, screaming at the poor moving staff guys. You felt bad for them, since you knew that your mother would never stop once she started nagging at you, and you decided to quickly run away to avoid her anger. When you opened the door you saw a room. It was still big, but smaller than your mothers. It had a huge window, with sliding doors that led to the backyard...or what you assumed was a backyard, since it was mostly forest. The island was pretty green and had a lot of trees, which you thought would be fun climbing.

As you looked at your new room, you thought of all the changes you had to make. First of all, you’re painting all the damn walls because those things are ugly. You’re also going to place those neon star stickers that shine in the dark, your father gave them to you for one of your birthdays, a whole pack, and you had a few you could use on the roof. You mentally planned where to put all your stuffed animals, and your books, although you didn’t have many and they were all boring.

Your mother didn’t like you reading fantasy books, and while you enjoyed a bit reading about the life of Thomas Eddison, or just something about math or biology, you actually didn’t understand jack shit and wanted to read some nice fantasy books. Your father had given you some before but your mother burned them when the whole Kyle scandal happened. Yeah it sucked.

Once again you walked out of your room and opened the last door, which was obviously a bathroom. Then you quickly went inside to your room once again as your mother finished nagging the moving staff. You weren’t dealing with that shit. So you just decided to go and jump on your bed. It was super comfy and you could jump pretty high though you stopped once your mother opened your door and shouted at you to get your ass down from there, dragging a bunch of your boxes into your room and telling you to start unpacking.

That was the most boring evening of your life. You wanted to explore! To see if there was anyone in that mansion! And you also wanted to try and find that boy your mother was talking about. But you couldn’t do any of that, since the next day you had to help unpack more boxes. And then more. And more. Why were there so many boxes?!

Still, finally that hell was over. For you at least. You had your room all in order, your toys off in one side, some books piled on your desk, and the stars on the walls (you weren’t able to reach the ceiling and your mother was in a horrible mood, so you couldn’t really ask her -unless you wanted to die of course.-)

You sat on the couch while your mother unboxed loads of teaching materials, books and everything else. You both stayed quiet until you looked out the window and then back at your mother.

“Mum, I want to visit the boy you’re going to teach. Can you teach us together?” You asked. Your mother didn’t look at you as she replied. “Don’t be silly, of course not. And this boy is learning more advanced things, I’m not sure you’ll be able to catch up.”

You crossed your arms and angrily glared at the floor. Then you looked back up at your mom. “Can I at least go say hi?”

Your mother rolled her eyes, and replied once again without looking at you. “He’s not here yet. He’s coming in two days. And you aren’t permitted to go outside of the house, you’ll be staying here the whole time. I’ll leave some work for you to do so you can keep busy.”

“But-”

“Enough. Now why don’t you go to your room and play a bit? You’re giving mommy a headache.”

You went to your room, sulking of course, as you made up snarky comments you could’ve used on your mum in your mind. Of course you were never going to say them, but it was a nice way to let off some steam. And so, that night you went to bed, still angrily cursing your mother.

Your mom didn’t let you leave your home for a whole week. You didn’t realize that much time had gone by, but when you checked your little calendar hanging on your door, you realized; the boy your mother is teaching must be here already!!! She had started leaving the house everyday, but you never paid that much attention to it. So that day, at 12pm in the afternoon, you finally decided that you were going to explore the place (and find out where the boy your mother talked about lived! -You were suspecting it was the huge mansion you saw back there-)

You put on your coat and your favorite sneakers, quickly left your room, and then popped your head out of the doorway to check that no one was around. Your mother always came home at about 4-5pm, so you had plenty of time. You also had a pretty watch that you had gotten when you turned 6, and you decided to finally use it for what it was meant for (and to not use it just as an accessory because it looked cool.)

When you made sure the coast was clear, you walked down the little path leading to who knows where. But you couldn’t help but walk with a little bounce on your step, excited at what might turn out to be at the end of the path. After walking for a while, looking at insects and picking up pretty flowers you saw on the way a sign. Then farther along there was another house. And then you walked more and there was another one. And then another one. The deeper you went, the more houses appeared and soon you found yourself in a little town of some sorts!

There were more people than you expected, and as you walked you saw that on what appeared to be on the center of the town, there was this huge market!

People there were selling all kinds of fruit, food and dishes, some you didn’t recognize, and some other people were selling flowers, jewelry and clothes. You slowly walked looking at every single thing that the people were selling. The food smelled absolutely delicious, and you loved the patterns of all the clothes.

Then you suddenly bumped into someone.

It was a lady, who appeared to be in her late thirties. You didn’t know this cuz you were a child of course, and kids can’t really guess an adults age. Still, she turned around and was about to shout something at you, when she stopped and then looked down, finally seeing you.

You gave her an apologetic smile, and the woman looked confused for a second before she knelt in front of you and stared at you.

“What are you doing here?” She asked. She sounded a bit mad, but there was a hint of concern there. You gave her the biggest and sweetest smile you could manage, and answered, “I’m exploring of course! I followed the path and I suddenly came here!”

“Is your...guardian anywhere around here? Or did you come alone?” She looked around for someone, anyone who was maybe looking for a lost child. But there was no one.

“Oh you mean mum? She’s somewhere around here. You see, she’s teaching a boy, that lives in that huge mansion!” You pointed where you supposed the mansion was, and the woman raised an eyebrow.

“In the mansion? I don’t think anyone lives there. So is she a teacher? Maybe she could be around here...I’ll help you look for her.”

“No!” You quickly shouted, but then you became still and tried to compose yourself. “Uhm, my mommy...she doesn’t really know I’m here. But you have to promise not to tell! If she finds out she’s going to kill me!”

That didn’t seem to help. But before the woman could answer a hand placed itself on her shoulder, and you looked up at the new person.

It was another lady, and although she seemed to be the same age as the other woman, she appeared younger in a way, more kind and soft.

“Bada, who is this little lady we have here? Don’t tell me you’re going to kidnap her and lock her in with all those other children you’re meaning to cook.”

The woman named Bada glared at the other one, and you immediately felt a chill run down your spine.

Fuck that shit you’re leaving. You quickly turned around but the other lady quickly grabbed you and laughed, a nice bubbly laugh. Your fear of being eaten was even forgotten for a second because the laugh was so contagious.

“I kid, I kid. Bada wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

“I could you know-”

“And who might you be? Are you lost?” She said, ignoring the other lady.

You quickly shook your head and explained that you were exploring. At that the woman laughed and Bada once again glared at her.

“It’s nothing to laugh about! Her mother must be worried sick. You can’t just run off like that, you know?” She said.

“Ah Bada! Let her have fun, you were once her age too, and you were more adventurous than her....don’t look at me like that, you know it’s true. Let the kid explore for a bit, it’s nothing harmful.” Then she turned to you. “And what might your name be little explorer?”

You smiled. “It’s Y/N! Nice to meet you!”

She smiled back. “Nice to meet you too Y/N, I’m Eun Jung, you can just call me Eun if you want!”

You had always been warned by your mother about ‘stranger danger’ and that you should of course, never talk with someone you don’t know. But these women seemed different. They gave off an aura that...that seemed to tell you they wouldn’t do anything to you.

As you explained to Eun about the bugs and flowers you had seen along the way, you were interrupted by your stomach growling.

Eun laughed and asked if you wanted to come and eat, and well, FOOD, who would deny?

Bada and Eun lived together in a small little house, decorated with all sort of stuff, paintings and flowers. It looked way better than your dull new home. Bada cooked while Eun made you some tea, and you explained why you were living in the island.

“My mum is teaching the boy that lives in that big mansion!” You told her.

Eun laughed and looked at you quizzically. “Are you sure? Last time I checked, no one has lived there for more than 40 years. Maybe your mother is teaching somewhere else.”

“Mmm...but the mansion didn’t look that old! Are you sure there’s no one living there?”

“Of course there isn’t.” Bada chipped in, as she walked in from the kitchen into the living room. Your mouth watered as she placed the food on the little round table in front of you, and you almost immediately forgot about what you were talking about. Bada had made some Kimchi, a food you hadn’t really tried before. You had moved from the UK barely a year ago, and your mother and you never went out to eat, so you never really tried any of the Korean dishes.

You took a bite and let out a satisfied sigh. Then you looked up at Bada and remembered what you were talking about. “Whaddya mwean of cwourse there isn’t? Mhm, there has to be someone right?” You finished saying, while Bada glared at you, probably for speaking while eating.

“If you keep doing that a whale will come out of your mouth.” Eun said. You looked at her in surprise and then shut your mouth. You didn’t know if it was true but you didn’t want to risk it.

“Well, if there was anyone living there, I’d say it was a ghost. That’s the only explanation. And it makes sense, since people say the house is haunted.” Bada finished saying, and Eun rolled her eyes, a smile on her face.

“There are no such things as ghost. Don’t mind her, she’s just so obsessed with that stuff. You have to see the amount of books she has about the matter.”

“You never know, they might be real, and if they are, I’ll at least be prepared.” She glared back and Eun smiled more. She seemed to really like to tease Bada, and you thought it was hilarious. But you had to push that aside to ask for the most important things.

1st, There’s ghosts in the mansion?

And 2nd, Bada has books about ghosts? That’s still way better than the stupid math books your mother is making you read.

Bada replied that yes, there are 100% ghosts in there, and that she had plenty of books about the matter. When you asked if you could borrow one it took a bit of convincing, mostly from Eun to get her to agree.

You left their home at 3pm, your tummy full and a bunch of books in your arms (there were some other fantasy ones Eun had given you), with both ladies telling you to come again.

You happily made your way back to your home, skipping all the way, and you stopped when you passed by the mansion. Even though it was early afternoon, the place seemed dark and gloomy. You shuddered as you looked at it.

You were about to leave, when you saw something...or rather someone by the window...

You immediately turned around and ran to your home. Nope. Not dealing with that today. You had eaten too much and you were tired, the ghosts will have to wait until tomorrow.

You locked the front door and went to your bedroom, grabbing your biggest plushie (a big lion your father bought you when you were 3) and hid under the covers until you heard the front door open.

You hid the books and walked out, to greet your mother, but she held a hand up before you could speak and set her belongings on the couch. “Not now Y/N. Mommy’s tired. Did you eat the food in the fridge?”

You nodded.

“Did you eat it all?”

You shook your head.

“Then mommy’s going to bed and you can eat what’s left ok? Don’t come and bother me, I’m too tired.”

And with that, she left the living room and went to her room, locking the door behind her.

You stood in silence for a bit before going to the kitchen and eating what was left from what your mother had made you.

Honestly you hadn’t eaten anything, since you had dinner and Bada’s and your mother was a terrible cook, but now you were hungry again and it was what was left, so you couldn’t do anything about it.

That night you ate in your room and stared out at the window. And then you realized...if you went out into the little porch your room had, and you looked a bit to the side, you could see a part of the mansion. You couldn’t really see clearly since all the lights were off, but that wasn’t stopping you from snooping.

Were there really ghosts there? Were they nice, or were they like the ones in those horror movies your friends talked about?

The book that Bada gave you didn’t seem to help though, since your fear only became bigger and bigger the more you read. It said that ghosts could possess people, make them do things they didn’t want to. Also if the ghost was there because it couldn’t move on, be it for anger or revenge, it might kill you.

That didn’t sound good at all. You shuddered as you closed the book and turned off your torch, finally getting ready for bed.

But then you saw it again. A figure on the window.

You stood staring at it, you don’t know for how long, but then it disappeared and you quickly ran off into your bedroom, locking the door and quickly bidding under your covers, turning the torch on again.

You didn’t know what the ghost wanted. You didn’t know if it was nice or not. You were honestly really scared. But still...a part deep inside of you was filled with curiosity. You wanted to see the ghost. You actually...wanted to meet it.

And so, you made up your mind. Tomorrow, you were going to sneak into the mansion and try to find the ghost. It would be your next adventure.

Your smile in victory as you imagined what would happened once you found the ghost. You would take your camera and take a picture of it, then you’d come and show it to Eun and Bada, and then your mother. You knew if you sold this picture you could probably make thousands, millions of dollars. People paid really well for ghost pictures. Hell, they might even make a movie of you experience! You could become famous, and your mother would be finally satisfied, having enough money to keep her happy.

You went to sleep with those sweet fantasies in the back of your mind.

Tomorrow, no matter what, you were going to capture that ghost.

#mystic messenger #jumin han #jumin fluff #mysme #saeran choi #yoosung kim #jaehee kang #jihyun mysme #choi bois #jumin x reader #childhood friends to lovers

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