#they are my two beloveds and i adore that they remain unchanged no matter what

[jemmo]

glad to know that the 2 things that transcend universes are kajorn still being that little shit school council secretary and por’s outstanding fashion sense

[inforapound]

Ease The Dawn Pt.2 Chapter 5

A/N - Thank you for reading and for all of your encouragement. 

Warnings - slight angst

Words - 2,800

The slaves were shuffled through the hall doors and forced to stand in a line for inspection. The worried eyes of the disheveled bunch scanned about the hall, nervously assessing their new home. Their eyes seemed to search for evidence, anything, that might provide insight into the next stage of their torment. Would it be better or worse from anywhere else but more importantly, most wondered, would they survive?

The threatening orders of a wiry man with a scruffy, yellowing beard jostled their attention back to Aethelswith. Waiting, she stood at the base of the stairs in front of the thrones. Despising the entire process, she held back a grimace as she walked toward them. The fear and uncertainty in their eyes made her feel ill, as did the smell of the grimy little man peddling their flesh. There was nothing about people being tethered like animals that would ever feel acceptable but she had been tasked with finding more slaves for the hall.

Behind her, leaning on the arm of his throne, Ivar had already found the petite woman with hair so fair it shone nearly white. Not quite as small as Aethelswith, she possessed all the characteristics of a Viking. Straight nose and deep blue eyes with her uncut, long hair braided down one side of her face. Her hands looked unworked and Ivar noticed that her plain beige dress remained untattered with no signs of the filth on her fair skin that covered the others in line.

The man clutched the girl's upper arm and pulled her forward for Aethelswith to appraise.

"This is the girl you spoke of? Who speaks my language?" Aethelswith asked, waiting for the translator to finish relaying her words.

"Yes," came the reply.

The slaver rasped on in Norse, looking like he was taking great care to speak as politely as someone like him could.

"This one worked as a slave to the wife of Jarl Henriksson," the translator continued. "His wife was Saxon, like you my queen."

Not correcting the translator, she was unsure if the error in her title had been his or the slaver's. She did not want to engage any more than necessary and would never deny being queen with Ivar perched above, surveying them all.

"What is your name?" Aethelswith asked the pretty girl with the slight smile.

Dipping her head, she bowed. "Freydis, my Lady."

—-

Believing that Ivar would be first to lose his resolve had been a mistake. Sitting alone in their chambre, Aethelswith was haunted by his ultimatum, not at all the iron force behind the standoff. He was distancing himself and it wounded her deeply, forcing her eyes open to the strength of their enmeshment. Ivar, had always being the one urgent to make love, and it had been a distraction from her own need for him.

For two weeks since his return from England, she had endured his punishment. Surviving only on the two chaste kisses he gave her each day; before leaving their chambre in the morning and when the candles were blown out at night and his lips never lingered. What a brilliant strategist her beloved was.

Sitting at her desk now, in their guarded room, she rested her elbows on their worktable, missing for his affection. To his men, the thralls or visitors in the hall, his behaviour would have seemed unchanged. Still attentive and protective, always holding her hand when sitting side by side on their thrones. Yet, she could feel the space in every exchange, his thumb no longer stroked circles on the back of her hand and he rarely made eye contact.

It had been some time since he had asked about her day or what she was learning in her lessons. He had stopped altogether asking her opinion on various matters regarding the city. Before this draw, Ivar was compulsive about knowing what was on her mind. Persistently asking what she was thinking. At times, his questions made her brain feel scrubbed as if she had just been interrogated. She always answered with patience as she understood it was beyond his control. He agonized when they were apart, and despite her assurance, she knew deep down, he feared she would one day leave.

Through this process of standing their ground, what ate her alive more than anything, was how bright his smile was when she entered a room only for realization to strike and the brightness to fade. As if his adoration was a flame being snuffed out by his ultimatum.  

When the sun would set and night would come, he would lie in bed and pretend not to miss her. If it had not been so sad, she would have laughed as Ivar was not a man who could feign indifference. His mood was as loud as thunder.

Keeping to his side of the bed, he would look up into the darkness and the silence would ring in her ears, only broken by his uttering a quiet goodnight. She felt alone, more so than when she had been, all those weeks, on her own.

Refusing to turn her back to him, she would sleep on her side, curled up like a child. As always, stretch her cold feet forward, slipping one under his lower back and resting the other on his stomach. Despite the impasse, she was grateful that he would still take her foot is his strong, warm hand, holding it, as he always had, while they drifted off to sleep.

But still.... it had been six weeks since they last made love and each night, she had to stop herself from crawling to his side. There was little point unless she was ready to acquiesce and she was not. Could not. What would their life look like if he would not value the few things she held dear.

Adjusting in her chair, she forced her jaw to unclench and picked up a smooth piece of charcoal. It was early afternoon and she had not yet seen her king,; some meeting regarding the wall had forced him up early and he had slipped out without waking her. She prayed this was not be a new habit.

Having no interest in eating in the hall alone, she requested a tray to be brought to their chambre. Not outright disliking her new thrall, she was yet to warm to her. Regardless, Freydis' sweet smile and tray of honeyed oats and mixed fruit, along with her customary cup of milk were welcome on that lonesome day. The fair-haired girl always arrived with a bright face and a fresh vase of white flowers. She was a nosey little thing, always asking questions and sharing her many observations on the weather and the comings and goings of people in the hall.

Rolling the charcoal in her hand, the pads of her fingers grew dark with soot. She had missed the feel of it against her skin having barely sketched since arriving. Instead, she preferred being out in the market or practicing Norse with Brana, often while picking berries or strolling down the shoreline. Armoured men with blades ready always tailing them not far behind. Brana, aside from Ivar, was her anchor and the truest friend she had ever had.

Always, at the start of each week, she visited Gussr and his wife Nanna. Gussr had aged terribly in the time since England, barely mobile and never properly healing from his injuries of that morning. Nanna possessed the same spirit has him; patient, warm and always delighted by her presence. Aethelswith would often bring them small gifts and sweets or sought-after supplies that they would have never spent what little money they had on. She loved them dearly and knew they felt the same. In the camp, Gussr had been her chaperone but became so much more, showing her compassion and support with the slightest of smiles and a paternal ease that allowed them to sit in comfortable silence for hours. Days. Weeks. Months. At the time, she knew that had Ivar decided to harm her, no one could have stopped him but the fact that Gussr would have wanted to brought her comfort. Now they shared a connection that could never be severed.

The remaining hours of the day Aethelswith spent at Ivar's side, in their chairs in the great hall, while he heard and settled town disputes. As of late, he was closing the doors turning away those who had arrived to complain.

Looking down at her blank parchment, she searched her mind for inspiration, but all was dark besides images of him; his lips on the skin of her throat or taking her nipple in his mouth, his hands running up her thighs and squeezing her behind, grinding her down on top of him. His beautiful face looking up at her, his gaze teaming with love. Closing her eyes, she dropped her head back allowing the warmth of her thoughts to roll up her spine. With a frustrated sigh, she rose from her chair and walked toward the door. Enough was enough, she was going to find her king.

—

The training grounds were nearly empty and the sun was now less intense but the feast was still many hours away. Standing just into the clearing, she watched Hvitserk spar with another man she did not know the name of. He was a regular in the hall but never talked with her or returned a passing smile. None of them did. They were either disgusted she was a Christian or feared the wrath of the king. Being no fool, she knew it was likely both.

Swaying and ducking, Hvitserk cut the air, tapping his opponent with the flat side of his blade. Spinning on a heel, rolling his torso, he dipped forward, avoiding contact with the other sword. Lean and strong, his movements were fluid, the most graceful fighter she had ever seen. She would offer him the compliment but felt her praise would be unwelcome or met with a cool remark. Why bother?

The sparing broke and Hvitserk turned in her direction, wiping sweat from his forehead.

"Are you lost, princess?"

Fighting the urge to cringe, she smiled ignoring the condescension in his voice.

"I am looking for Ivar."

"I did not think you were here to see me."

Tilting her head to the side, she studied his green eyes. "Have I offended you?"

Startled by her question, Hvitserk's smirk faded. "No."

"A deaf man with no sight could detect your disdain," she looked at him evenly.

Sheathing his sword, he rested his hands on his hips, mouth open as if still deciding how to reply.

"It is your effect on my brother," he finally said. "This game you are playing, declaring yourself still married."

"That is between Ivar and me."

"Is it?" his eyebrows spiked. "Do you have any idea what he was like in England?" Running his hand over his pulled back hair, he glanced behind him before looking at her again. "He was crazed. He was a mad man. The death and torture he left in his wake." Shaking his head, he stared at her. "He slaughtered countless people. Slaughtered Aethelswith. Many were obviously telling the truth that they did not know the whereabouts of Burgred." He dropped the volume of his voice. "Look, seeing Christians cut down will never break my heart but this was....." he shook his head, "even his own men were doubting his sanity. Now that he feels rejected by you his cruelty grows with his need to prove himself. Save face as a king whose woman has yet to marry him. But...I see it in his eyes when he is with you. You make him feel like a God. A God!" Hvitserk repeated.

Squeezing her clenched hands, she could barely hear his words, imagining a blood-soaked Ivar terrorizing crowds of innocent people, rolling through villages on his chariot, with frenzied eyes and his mouth gaping wide, an ax high overhead, leaving behind only death. Closing her eyes, she shuddered, knowing what he said was the truth.

Stepping forward, Hvitserk bent down, grabbing his water skin off the ground. Looking at her, he took a long drink before corking it and tucking it under his arm.

"Ivar went to the barn with Loni to see how the new wheels were coming along for his chariot. Following, they were heading to the hall to check on the preparations. Finehair's fleet is already in the harbour and tonight Ivar will be receiving him for the first time as king."

Nodding, she kept her gaze down on the trampled grass.

Moving past her, he headed for the trail. "You be careful Aethelswith."

Spinning around, she spoke to his back. "Ivar would never hurt me."

"If you say so," he called back, not looking in her direction.

—-

Aethelswith entered the hall to find Ivar in his chair talking with Loni and another man she knew as Raud. They sat casually on the steps in front of him all nursing a horn of ale. Loni seemed to be recounting a story from battle as he whipped his arm through the air in an animated gesture as if delivering a fatal blow. Raud was smiling and nodding and Ivar drank from his cup, listing while staring at the floor.

As if sensing her arrival, he looked up to the large doors. Sweet recognition flickered in his eyes and he smiled before his face again turned sour and void of emotion. Regardless, she made her way toward him.

"Where are your guards!" he lashed out, his voice echoing through the hall.

Stopping at the bottom of the stairs, she stood in place as if she was a commoner there for a reprimand. Cocking his head to one side, he squinted, unsure of her lack of reaction.

"I decided to walk up to the training grounds and did not want the fuss of an entourage."

"The training grounds? Through the forest? Aethelswith!" he barked. "Are you daft or just outright disregarding me now?" Squeezing his horn, he leaned forward in his chair. "I have told you to have at least two guards with you at all times!"

Raud looked away and Loni gazed into his own cup pretending not to notice the tension and silence filling the hall. With a neutral face, she stared back at him, never wavering despite the feeling of her insides being torn out.

He raised his finger and pointed at her.

"Do not ignore me again."

Continuing to hold his glare, she controlled her emotions. She knew this man and how to navigate his storms.

"I went looking for you," she said in a steady tone. All eyes were on her and she would not appear broken.

"You did?" Surprise sounded in his voice as he could not recall her ever seeking him out, never wanting to disturb his work.

"Yes, I felt an odd pain in my chest," she replied softly.

"Are you unwell? he straightened in his chair, his eyes looking sincere.

"It was a pang in my heart."

Leaning forward, Ivar's brow creased.

"I realized I was missing you," she smiled. "You left early this morning and I have not felt your kiss today."

Freezing for an instant, his expression melted and his lips pulled back into a smile, his bright blue eyes sparkled as he reached toward her.

"Aethelswith, come to me," he nearly whimpered.

Climbing the steps toward his outstretched hand, she could not help but mirror his expression. Loni and Raud rushed to clear the stairs making their way elsewhere.

Pulling her into his lap, Ivar wrapped his arms around her, bringing his face close to hers. Grabbing the cup from his hand, she took a deep drink of his mead turning his smile into a grin. Closing the small space between, he kissed her gently, delicately and with love. Pulling back to speak, she stopped looking at his sold face, eyes still closed as if he was savoring the feel of her mouth. Opening his eyes, tension crept back into his expression.

"My sweet," he kissed her one more time, "please do not leave the hall on your own. Tell me if you want to come and watch the training and I will take you up on my chariot." Pausing, he looked up into her light blue eyes. "I love you, Aethelswith. I react because of how important you are. I would die before I would allow anything to ever happen to you."

Placing her small hand on his chiseled cheek, she kissed him again, mewing at how she had missed his warm lips and the taste of ale on his tongue. As their kiss deepened, the description of Ivar's savagery flickered in her mind; blood and sharp teeth, ripped apart bodies rotting. Ivar's tongue swirling against hers was too great a distraction, his hot breath and needy hands pulling her harder to him. She should have been horrified and repulsed but his sweet mouth breathing her in, after so long, felt like heaven.

.

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[forever-rogue]

The Edge of Thirty - Part 8

Summary: Everyone seems to be getting married, having babies, or “growing up.” Except Y/N. Suddenly at almost thirty, reality seems to be crashing down on her – and hard. Nothing seemed as daunting as turning thirty…until she met Gwilym Lee anyway.  

A/N: Hiya! Thanks for reading and supporting this story. I hope you enjoy!  Please note there are a lot of up and downs in this chapter and more to come! Also, if tags aren’t working please let me know, or if I’ve accidentally forgotten to add (my b)!  Taglists are open! xx

Pairing: Gwilym Lee x Reader

Word Count: 5k

Warnings: slight language, sexual innuendos

MASTERLIST

“And I love you.”

Gwil gently put his arms around her waist and picked her up, holding her tightly and securely against him as she wrapped her legs around his waist. Neither of them exchanged anymore words as their lips never seemed to part, breathless kisses exchanged with a sense of passionate urgency.

He kicked the door shut and set her down, pushing her against the cool wood, his hands freely roaming her body. She opened her mouth in a silent moan as he kissed along her jawline, working his way down the column of her throat, effortlessly finding her sweet spot and nipping at the soft delicate skin his came into contact with.

As much as she wanted him to take her then and there, and God knows her body was screaming out for him, she put her hands on his shoulders and stopped him. She shook her head gently, and pecked his lips gently before pushing him a step back gently.

“What’s wrong, love?” he asked quietly as he traced over the contours of her face gently, his warm, sweet breath fanning over her face. She relished in his touch, enjoying the sweet smell of mint washing over her.

“Nothing’s wrong,” she reassured him, putting his hands on either side of his face, pressing her lips against his, “not with you. You’re perfect. But I’ve got a few things to talk to you about.”

“Are you okay? What’s happened?” he took her hand in his and and led her over to the kitchen, pulling out a stool at bar and motioning for her to hop up on it. She stared at the marbled countertop, tracing a finger over the quartz vein, doing her best to prevent any fingerprints. His apartment was always immaculate, and she always worried that she’d break something, or damage anything. But he insisted that it didn’t matter - he gave her the run of the place and had even offered her a key, so she could come over whenever her heart desired.

He gave her a shoulder a reassuring squeeze, sensing that she was trying to avoid the issue but doing her best to overcome it. She turned to face him for a moment, giving him a small smile as he got up and walked over to the fridge.

“You, my darling, look like you could use a drink,” he said as he opened the luxe looking fridge, ready to grab the chilled bottle of wine he kept for these types of situations. Y/N started to giggle to herself knowing full well that she was the last person in the world that needed a drink. He turned to her, an eyebrow cocked as he tried to read her, “and just what might be so funny?”

“I’d like a drink, but perhaps some sparkling water?” she said once she’d calmed down from her fit. He looked between her and the bottle, trying to make the connection between it and her refusal, a nervous look crossing his handsome features, “oh, no, no! I’m not pregnant or anything like that! I’ve just…pretty much consumed enough alcohol for a small army over the last several days.”

“Oh,” he let out a sigh of relief as he placed the bottle back into the fridge and pulled out a couple of ornate glass bottles filled with fizzy water. He handed her one of them, opening his own and down a long drag. She watched him for a moment, admiring his side profile, getting lost in her own daydream before snapping back into reality, “what’s been going on then, pretty girl?”

“Well, I, ugh it’s a lot,” she admitted as she put focused her attention onto the glass bottle, tracing her fingertip over the design. It was now or never, and she knew she needed to be honest with him, “I feel like there’s a lot more to me than you would probably think.”

“Try me,” his voice remained calm and unchanged as he set the bottle down and leaned against the counter, giving her his full attention. Noticing her hesitation, he leaned over and touched her cheek gently for a moment, his warm hand sending shivers down her spine - even the simplest of touches was electric, “you’re not the only one who’s ever done a bad thing. I’ve made my fair share of rash, impulsive decisions that I’m not too fond of.”

“Hard to believe,” she let out a long breath, chuckling slightly, “look at you, the picture of perfection: cool, calm, collected, composed, Professor Lee. And then there’s me: reckless, wild, and upsetting everyone. What a pair.”

“That’s what we call a dynamic duo, my dear,” the corner of his mouth pulled up into a smirk, “just because I don’t look it, don’t think there haven’t been plenty of fuck ups when I was your age.”

“I suppose I’ll just have to take your word for it, won’t I?” she pondered, and he gave her a swift nod, pointedly making eye contact so she would continue. Straightening on her stool, she pushed the bottle away, a soft scraping sound echoing throughout otherwise quiet kitchen. The only real sound in the pristine apartment was the soft ticking of the clock that hung in the living room, “so I may or may not have lost my job. I won’t know for another two weeks. I’m on suspension.”

“What the hell happened?! Was it because of me? I-I can go right down there-“

“No, Gwil, it’s not you. Definitely. You’re the only good thing that’s happened to me in so long,” she confessed, hoping he won’t overreact and blame himself for everything. Not that he would, likely, he was cool as ice and didn’t jump to rash conclusions unlike she had a tendency to do, “it’s Crickle and his endless vendetta against me. He’s been wanting to get me fired since I started teaching there. He’s always loved Ben but had a disdain for me. I don’t know what it is – probably because I’m not fancy like you lot with your PhDs. But he hasn’t liked me from day one.”

“I mean...it is pretty hard to beat a fancy, overly hyped up degree,” he joked but she just stuck out her tongue at him.

“Whatever it is actually is,” she cocked an eyebrow at him, “he’s always had it out for me. I think he only hired me because Ben’s my best friend, and he practically adores him. But, last week he went to Ben to try and get information on me, and to have Ben basically try and throw me under the bus. Which, if we’re being completely honest, I totally thought he did. I jumped to a bad conclusion, and ended up in a big argument with him over everything. I stormed into office and yeah...things weren’t pretty. We had a fairly bad falling out.”

“Are you still fighting with him?” he asked sympathetically, but thankfully she was able to shake her head and say no. He was curious to meet this mysterious best friend Ben. If he didn’t know her, he could have easily beloved they were lovers, with how fondly she spoke of him. It would be an interesting treat, he concluded, to finally meet her friends, and have her meet his. Who you chose to keep close by often spoke volumes about a person. But by the way her eyes lit up whenever she spoke of him, told him he was extremely special to her, “I’m curious to finally meet him.”

“No, we’re not fighting anymore. He came by and we talked,” she said quietly, “he’s probably the reason I’m here. He dragged me out of bed and told me to stop feeling sorry for myself and set things right. He’s a good man, and I’m often not even sure why he’s dealt with me for so long-”

“Probably because he loves you, just like you love him.”

“I do love him,” she hoped he didn’t feel the need to compete with him or was overshadowed by his presence in her life. Ben was a constant and he wasn’t going anymore, others had come and gone but never him, “he’s like my brother. Don’t you worry Gwilly, he’ll never be like you though. But you will get to meet him soon - this weekend at the wedding.”

“Ahh, well, I’m looking forward to it...I’m sure he’s got plenty of stories to tell me,” he gave her the softest of smiles as he walked around the counter and effortlessly hoped onto the stool next to her. He nudged her knee with his, a sort of intimate gesture, as he indicated for her to carry on, “I’ve already told you, love, I don’t care about your past. You are a good person, whether or not you choose to believe it.”

“Promise?” she asked quietly and reached down and gave her knee a soft squeeze, “after my little outburst with Ben, I went home and started drinking. I was sure I was going to lose my job, and to be quite frank, I’m not positive it’ll still be there for me. So, I suppose I better start keeping my options open. It was just everything, it set me off and I don’t handle these things well...but I’m working on it.”

“Why do you think this demonic headmaster has it out for you?” Gwil mused out loud, ran a handle over his stubble in contemplation, “is he jealous that he’ll never get to shag you?”

“Gwilym Lee!” her eyes widened in both horror and disgust as she pictured him lusting after her. She sincerely hoped that wasn’t his motive - she’d rather have gone after a slug than ever get closer than three feet to Crickle, “that’s the biggest horror story ever. I do hope not, otherwise I should be finding a new job either way. No...he’s just...I don’t fit the stereotypical picture of what he has for a young woman. I don’t think the others teachers like me either, they’re the ones that started telling him they’ve seen me around town when I’ve gone out. And that I was out drunk one morning and causing a scene. Which wasn’t entirely true - I was hungover and reacting to the news that one of my other best friends was pregnant!”

“Hmm,” he teased her, “sounds like a perfectly valid reason to hate you. Young, pretty, likes to go out and have fun...”

“Be serious!” she giggled in spite of herself, sticking out her tongue at him, “I could lose my job! What am I going to do then?”

“You have me,” he stated as it was the most obvious thing in the world, “you know I could take care of you if you needed it-”

“I-I’m not going to take advantage of you like that Gwil,” she felt a blush rising in her cheeks in spite of herself, “I want this to be an equal partnership, and that involves me contributing. Not living off of the hot English professor that everyone wants to shag!”

“Fair enough,” he agreed, “you think everyone wants to shag me, huh? Am I really that good looking?”

“I mean, you’re alright,” she made a so-so gesture with her hand. She knew he was more than alright, as close to perfect as a man could get really, “enough for a bunch of little uni students to pretend Professor Lee is fucking them when they’re with their inexperienced boyfriends.”

“Professor Lee...I could fuck you in my classroom sometime. You can be a naughty school girl, and we could do it in every inch of my office,” he said everything so calmly, like he wasn’t just pondering about wild, passionate sex, which was enough to cause her cheeks to turn a bright crimson, “you know if you want.”

“Of course I want to!” she practically blurted with overly zealous eagerness, her hands flying to her face - she hadn’t wanted to come off that desperate. He raised an eyebrow at her as he took a drink from his bottle, and she wished more than anything else to be that bottle, and to have his lips on her. Shaking her head, she realized she needed to pull herself together and not just lust over him, that could be reserved for later, “but in all seriousness, Gwilym, what am I going to do? I don’t want to lose my job, I love it, and my kids.”

“You’re not going to get fired, love,” he said quietly, “I know the kids love you just as much as you love them. Jenny almost never stops talking about you, or Deacon. If you’re a good teacher, which I can see that you are, you have nothing to be worried about. We can fight it if something does happen.”

“We,” she repeated the word out loud. It was such a nice word, she decided, and she wanted to hear more of it, “I like the sound of that. It has a nice ring to it.”

“Indeed it does,” he reached down and pulled her stool closer to him so there was very little distance between them, “please just promise you won’t just shut me out again. I don’t want to hear that you’ve been feeling so down and drinking so much. You can tell me anything - anything.”

“T-there is one other thing...” she started, swallowing the lump in her throat that had suddenly appeared. He looked at her expectantly, such a soft expression in those bright blue eyes, She tried to get the words out, but it just wasn’t working. Instead, she just smiled at him before forcing out, “that I love you. Very much, and it’s both amazing and terrifying. That’s all.”

“I love you too,” he beamed at her, closing the distance and pecking her lips with each slow, punctuated word, “why don’t I show you how much?”

Lucy and Rami’s wedding rolled around faster than she could have imagined. After months of laborious planning, hours spent over the tiniest details, their big day was finally here. Y/N had worked hard to make amends with her friends throughout the remainder of the week, feigning that she’d been under the weather - Ben had been a good sport and hadn’t spilled the beans on what had actually transpired between them. What was done was done and they didn’t need to know all the details. Knowing that everything was going to be okay was enough.

And they had finally all met Gwil - a feat nothing short of a miracle considering her recent relationships had been nothing more than a few days long, if more than a night. But no, he had accompanied her and presented the picture of tranquil perfection. He was dressed smartly, putting almost everyone else there to shame, but he carried no false bravado or swagger about anything, he was just utterly himself.

And of course everyone, including Ben, had wholeheartedly approved of them, whispering under their breath about how lovely he was, as if she was not already aware. So tall! So handsome! So kind! So lovely!

But as she was standing there at the altar, perched next to Becca and Tessa as Lucy and Rami exchanged their vows, she found herself slipping into her own thoughts, hoping she didn’t appear too lost or gone. She forced herself to look at the nervous and giggling bride and groom, trying to intently memorize every word they were saying, but it was no use.

A million thoughts raced through her mind as she realized that could have been her in Lucy’s position. It would have been, it should have been her - but it wasn’t. She knew, of course, that things happened and life was what was, but it still caused a pang of sadness in her heart. She had wanted this so desperately and was denied, but as her gaze started to wander, she spied Gwil sitting among some random members of Lucy’s family, several rows back, his eyes glued to her. He was her future now and that made her very happy indeed.

The corners of her mouth stretched into a small as she realized she must have been frowning before. Praying she hadn’t made anyone odd faces and didn’t seem to be disparaging anyone, she chanced the quickest of winks at Gwil before giving her full attention back to the others. Maybe life didn’t always work out how it was supposed to, or how one planned, but that was okay. Sometimes the future held what you’d been looking for and needed.

She almost bounded into Gwil’s arms when she spied him after the ceremony, milling about near the entrance, waiting for her with a big grin on his face. He held his arms open to her and picked her up off of her feet, clinging onto her tightly in his strong arms, planting a gentle kiss on her cheek, trying his best not mess up the makeup that had been meticulously applied.

“You look absolutely beautiful,” he said tenderly, letting her back down onto her feet, helping to keep her balanced in the sky-high heels. Lucy had always had a love of stilettos and everyone would be damned if she didn’t have her bridal party wearing them on her big day, “you okay there, champ? You’re almost as tall as me for once!”

“Very funny, Gwilliam,” she teased, running a hand over his cheek, touching the delicious stubble he had there. He appeared so divine in his suit, opting to wear a bow tie instead of a regular tie, and easily put everyone else to shame. But she couldn’t wait to tell all the intricate layers off of him later and have him stripped under her. Trying her best to suppress the thought, she remembered where she was, and spied Ben walking over to them, “not everyone can be a tall tree like you. By the way, this is my best friend, Ben. Ben, this is Gwil and I can now confidently say that I wasn’t making either of you up!”

“Ben,” he wrapped an around her waist, tucking her securely into his side before extending his hand, “it’s an absolute pleasure to meet you. She goes on so much about you, I almost thought you might be conjoined at the hip.”

“The pleasure is all mine,” Ben eagerly shook the other man’s hand, and it was clear that the two of them were sizing each other up. There were calm smiles on their faces, and they seemingly approved each other. It mean the world to her that her best friend and boyfriend got on. Neither of them appeared to be going anywhere, so it didn’t really give them much of a choice. Ben looked over at her, giving her a wink before giving his attention back to Gwil, “this one’s been absolutely over the moon about you. Gwil this, Gwil that, I feel like I’ve been dating you as well.”

“Ben!” she burrowed her face into Gwil’s chest, in a vain attempt at hiding her crimson cheeks. He soothingly rubbed her arm up and down, laughing at her sudden shyness, but kissed the top of her head, careful not to muss her hair, “you’re supposed to be on my side, not his!”

“I am on your side,” he innocently shrugged, gave her wide doe eyes, “I’m just pointing out the facts. But, Gwil, trust me, if you ever need any good stories, I’ve got them all. We’ve known each other since we were about six, I know almost everything about this one. I’m sure you’ll fit right in with the group!”

“I’ll be keeping my eyes peeled for you later!” Gwil promised Ben as Tessa came over to drag the two of them outside for pictures. Y/N gave him a look of warning, waggling a finger pointedly at him before turning her attention back to Tessa, who had one of each of her hands on either arms. She sighed lightly at the giggled best friends, wondering how she had ended up playing babysitter to the two of them.

“I like him,” Ben commented under his breath, nudging her arm gently. She smiled in spite of herself but nodded excitedly, biting on her lower lip lightly.

“You’ve barely exchanged more than a few words with him,” she reminded him, looking at him with a raised eyebrow, but relief flooded her veins at the knowledge that he approved of her boyfriend.

“That may be so,” he said as his face turned into a serious expression, one he normally reserved for when he was putting on his Dr. Jones persona, “but I can tell. He gives off good vibes.”

“Thank you,” she whispered quietly in response to his declaration, “you have no idea how much that means to me. I love you, Benny.”

“I love you too,” he promised before he was removed from her, lined up along Rami’s side along with the rest of the groomsmen. She tried to hold back her tears at the touching scene, feeling for the first time in a long time that everyone was slowly falling into place.

A few days ago she would have been glad for all the free flowing alcohol, but today it was almost enough to make her stomach churn, so she vehemently avoided it, opting instead to remain drinking her water, sparkling never still of course.

“Hey! Are you gonna come and dance with me?” she grinned at Gwil as she flopped down in the seat next to him, her face flushed from all moving and gyrating from the dance floor. Gwil had been posted up at one of the abandoned tables, nursing a beer while he chatted away with Ben. She had been worried for a few moments, wondering just what Ben would tell him, hoping it wasn’t all sorts of embarrassing stories from when they were teenagers.

“Of course love,” he took a swig from the bottle, “give me five more minutes and I’ll join you, yeah?”

“Only if you absolutely promise,” she stood back up, kicking off her heels, finally as her feet screamed for relief, before kissing his cheek, and seeking out Becca and Tessa. She turned around and gave him one last wave.

“You’d better go and join her,” Ben chuckled, “she’s impatient and has a hot head, which I’m sure you know all about.”

“She’s something else,” Gwil agreed, tapping the lip of his bottle thoughtfully, “but I happen to love her very much. It feels silly to admit, but I’m really happy to have met you all now. It means a lot you know.”

“We’re glad too,” Ben clinked his bottle against his, “it’s been a long time since she’s been with anyone. Sometimes I wondered if she’d ever find anyone again-”

“Again?” setting down his bottle, he gave Ben a mystified glance, trying to decipher what he meant.

“Losing James was really hard for her. It seemed like she’d never get that spark back, but you’d never be able to see that now,” he stated, not realizing that Y/N had still neglected to tell Gwil anything about James. She had planned on it several days prior, but wasn’t able to do it, leaving it for another time, “what’s wrong?”

“James?”

“Her fiance...he passed away after getting hit by a drunk driver in a car accident several years ago,” Gwil’s jaw almost hit the ground at Ben’s words. He had no clue, not an inclination even, about the existence of James. But here it was - a mountainous revelation laid out before him at once, “s-she must have told you? I mean, he was a huge part of her life, she was going to marry him...”

“I-I’ve got to go,” he said suddenly, almost jumping out of his chair as a confused expression fell on Ben’s face. It took him a moment to put two and two together, and then it hit; Y/N had never mentioned so much as a word about James.

Y/N looked over to see a distressed Ben and Gwil exited the room, clutching his suit jacket in his hand. She made eye contact with Ben, who gave her a forlorn expression as he shook his head and mouthed I’m sorry at her.

She pulled up her dress and ran after him, hoping her strides would catch up to his long legs. Following his path, she bounded down the hall, which luckily contained no other people, when she spotted him.

“Gwil! Gwilym!” she put her hand on his arm, but he flinched out of her touch, turning on his heel to face her, an unreadable expression on his handsome features, “what’s wrong, love?”

“James,” the name rolled off his tongue with more salt than he intended and he could tell he had struck a nerve by the way she recoiled from him. Her eyes widened with fear as she realized that the truth had somehow slipped out. He didn’t break eye contact with her, even she tried her best to avoid looking at him, “who is James, Y/N? Tell me who he is.”

“I-I, Gwil, you have to understand that it wasn’t easy for me. I don’t just go around telling people-”

“I’m not people, Y/N!” he raised his voice, and she was taken aback for a brief moment - he’d never been this loud with her before, “I’m your boyfriend! I’m supposedly the man you love.”

“Gwil, please just listen to me,” she was desperate, trying to hold back her tears as she internally urged him to see reason, “I-I wanted to tell you-”

“Then why didn’t you?” there was an exasperated look on his face, and he ran a hand over his stubble, trying to calm himself down. He didn’t know how to feel - there was sense of annoyance, sadness, and a little bit of anger. He had been begged her, on several occasions, to just open up to him, “what prevented you from telling me, Y/N? I have told you so many times to just open up and talk to me.”

“I was scared,” she dabbed at her eyes with the back of her hand, “it’s just...I can’t just open up and spill all of my secrets. It took me years to get over him.”

“He was a secret?! What other secrets are you hiding?” they were both breathing heavily, chests rising and falling in anger and annoyance.

“Nothing - I just don’t like talking about it. I was supposed to marry him, and he’s dead, okay? I don’t why you’re making such a big deal out of this!” her own voice was rising and she hoped no one would come in and over hear their argument. She didn’t need to go on and ruin Lucy and Rami’s big day.

“Because it is! I asked you about past relationships, I’ve told you about my own almost marriage,” he was flailing around wildly now, trying to get his point across, “I’ve asked you to open up to me, Y/N. I told you that your past doesn’t matter to me, besides what would have happened if you’d told me? It’s not like I would have been upset! I know what’s like to lose people too.”

“Well, you’re sure acting upset right now,” she pouted at him through tears, wishing she’d just gone and told him the truth from the beginning. But she was too stubborn for her own good and held back a big part of her past, and now it had come back full circle to bite her in the butt.

“That’s because I am upset!” he sighed and furrowed his brow, taking a moment to calm himself, “I have tried my best to be patient with you, darling, I really have. I have asked you repeatedly to open up to me, and you still haven’t. I don’t know what you need, Y/N, and I can only give you so much.”

“Gwilym-”

“Y/N, I love you, I really do,” he bit his lip, mulling over his words carefully, “but I can’t keep doing this anymore. This constant up and down, going in circles, back and forth. I just...I don’t know if this is going to work.”

“P-please no,” she grabbed onto his arm, ready to cling onto him and be for forgiveness, “please don’t leave me. I-I love you, please. You have to understand-”

“And that’s what makes this so hard,” he took his arm out of her hands, letting his fingers brush over hers one last time, “I know you’re being honest...this time. But what about in a few years from now? What if we got married? Had children? Would you be hiding things from me then? I asked for one thing, Y/N, that’s all. It was never supposed to be this complicated.”

“Don’t walk away,” she almost sunk to her knees, begging him to stop and not leave. He had welcomed her back before with open arms, but she wasn’t so sure he’d do it a second time, “please, I’ll tell you everything, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Gwilym-”

“Goodbye, Y/N,” he said quietly, taking a step back from her, a pained expression on his own face. This was just as hard for him as it was for her, “I do love you, you know, truly.”

“Don’t leave me,” she repeated quietly as she watched his retreated back, staying there for a long time even after he had gone. She was on her knees, weeping only, wishing that she could take it all back. But she couldn’t - he was gone. For good this time.

“Y/N?” Ben asked quietly as he finally found her. He leaned down and put a hand on her back gently, but she just brushed him off, “love, I swear I thought he knew, I-I wouldn’t have said anything if I knew.”

“It’s okay, Benny,” she sighed, letting a sob rack her body as she plopped down the floor and leaned against the wall, “it’s my own fault. It’s over. It’s all over. He’s gone.”

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[haillenarte]

not-so-silent night

Here is a partial translation of “Not-so-silent Night,” this year’s Starlight Celebration quest.

Longtime followers of this blog will be well aware of my general translation style, but for the record, this is a slightly stylized translation done in the style of the official localization. It is not completely literal in some parts. For example, in a place where Maisenta simply said “Delicate and beautiful music is sold,” an awkward sentence by English literary standards, I invented a followup to make it “Delicate and beautiful music always sells well — all the better when it is performed by delicate and beautiful men.” I do this kind of thing primarily because people criticize “the Japanese version” as being “dry and boring” if I don’t, but I promise you that apart from minor additions like these, the sentiment and tone of the Japanese version is unchanged.

Note that Maisenta’s reaction to you is slightly different depending on whether or not you completed the postmoogle quest “Sweet Words, Shadowy Dealings.” The guildmasters also react differently if they have reason to recognize you.

NOT-SO-SILENT NIGHT 星芒祭の協力者たち "starlight symphonists”

(lit. “collaborators of the starlight celebration”)

マイセンタ : お待たせしましたわね。 ゲヴァさんとは仕事上、懇意にしていますから、 内密な商談などに、この場をお借りしているのですわ。 マイセンタ : 警備が厳重なところほど、 内側に潜り込めれば、安全ですからね。 私が出入りしていても、仕入れとしか思われませんし。

MAISENTA: Thank you for waiting on my behalf. Guildmaster Geva and I know each other through business, so she lets me use the terrace here for, ahem, confidential negotiations. And other such things. MAISENTA: Oh, are you concerned about our speaking outside? I assure you, there’s no need to worry. The security around the Leatherworker’s Guild is so reliable that I’ve had plenty of private conversations here without issue. Besides, even if anyone spots us leaving or entering, they’ll simply assume that I’m here to purchase Fen-Yll goods. 

LOCALIZATION Maisenta: Thank you for agreeing to meet me here. I'm on good terms with Guildmaster Geva and she lets me use this space for...well, that's a story for another time. Or perhaps never. Maisenta: Naturally, a quiet spot like this is ideal for avoiding unwanted attention, while the guard─who has been asked to turn a blind eye─is an effective deterrent to any would-be eavesdroppers.

→ If you have not completed the Postmoogle quest...

マイセンタ : この子たちは、「ホムンクルス」という吟遊詩人集団ですわ。 黒兎堂が資金を援助して、活動の支援をする代わりに、 うちの広告塔になってもらっていますの。 マイセンタ : これでも、グリダニアの婦女子を中心に、 けっこう人気がありますのよ。 繊細で美しい詩歌が売りですの。

MAISENTA: Now, shall I introduce you to my boys? These are the traveling bards known as the Homunculi. We maintain a mutually beneficial relationship, you see: Black Rabbit Traders gives them financial support for their musical endeavors, and they promote our fine range of fashionable attire in return. MAISENTA: As I’m sure you can imagine, they are wildly adored by the women of Gridania. Delicate and beautiful music always sells well — all the better when it is performed by delicate and beautiful men.

LOCALIZATION Maisenta: It gives me great pleasure to introduce the Homunculi, the greatest musical sensation the realm has ever known. While I am not one to boast, I should point out that I played no small part in bringing them and my organization, Black Rabbit Traders, together in a mutually beneficial partnership. Maisenta: We cover their expenses while they promote our fine range of fashionable attire as they enchant hoards of besotted onlookers. Although I should warn you─any rumors of them siring a string of bastards across Eorzea are entirely unfounded. Well, mostly unfounded.

→ If you have completed the Postmoogle quest...

マイセンタ : それにしても、あなたと「ホムンクルス」がそろっていると、 あわや契約解消になりそうだった、あの事件を思い出しますわ。 遠い昔のような、最近のような……不思議な気分ですわね。 マイセンタ : 彼らの活動も順調でしてよ。 いまはエオルゼア諸都市をめぐる巡業公演の夢にむけて、 黒兎堂も引き続き、彼らの支援を行っておりますの。

MAISENTA: Still, when I see you here together with the Homunculi, I’m reminded of that time we nearly dissolved our contract. Strange to think about it now, isn’t it? It feels like a long time ago and only a little while ago at the same time. MAISENTA: The boys are just as beloved as ever, of course. Black Rabbit Traders is well on its way to funding that musical tour of Eorzea they’ve always dreamed of!

LOCALIZATION Maisenta: As I am sure you know, the Homunculi cause a stir wherever they go, and I need them focused on the task at hand. It's strange to think that without your intervention all those moons ago, they would have escaped my clu─ahem─would have been lost to me forever, and here we all are, reunited. Maisenta: You will no doubt be pleased to hear that since the last time you saw them, my honey-tongued musical geniuses have been touring the breadth of the realm. Naturally, Black Rabbit Traders continue to enjoy a profitable relationship with Eorzea's most beloved traveling bards.

マイセンタ : さて、本題に入りましょう。 星芒祭の実行委員が、歌い手を募集していると聞いて、 私はすぐに、話をつけにいきましたわ。 マイセンタ : もちろん、ホムンクルスを売り込むためです。 こんなによい商機を、 みすみす逃すわけにはいきませんわ。 マイセンタ : 星芒祭の音楽会でホムンクルスが演奏すれば、 市民たちの間で、彼らに対する好感度が高まるでしょう？ そのうえ黒兎堂も、商売に一枚かませてもらえる。 マイセンタ : 星芒祭の実行委員も、 ホムンクルスの知名度で集客が見込めるのです。 誰にとっても、よい結果になる商談ですわ。 マイセンタ : 音楽堂の手配もして、 何の問題もなくことは進んでいると、 思っていたのですけれど……。 オスカルレ : 歌う曲が、ね……。 ちょっと問題があって……。 普通だったら、僕たちが作曲もやるんだけど……。

MAISENTA: Now, why don’t we talk shop? I heard that the Starlight Celebration was in need of musical entertainment, so naturally, I volunteered my wonderful Homunculi for the task. MAISENTA: I mean, as a businesswoman, I’d be a fool to let this opportunity slip me by! MAISENTA: By performing at the Starlight Celebration, the Homunculi will acquire new admirers, and Black Rabbit Traders will make plenty of gil selling the luxurious garments that the boys wear onstage. MAISENTA: And what’s more, the Homunculi’s existing fans will flock to the Starlight Celebration — which means a bigger turnout for the celebrants, and good business for virtually everyone involved. A flawless plan, no? MAISENTA: Well, the concert hall has been appropriately decorated, and it looks as though everything will go off without a hitch... but alas, we have one last crucial problem on our hands. OSCARLET: It’s the music, see... Normally, we compose our own songs, but that won’t work this time around.

LOCALIZATION Maisenta: Of course, it won't do to have this conversation interrupted by legions of squealing followers, hence our current venue. As for their role in the Starlight Celebration, I jumped at the chance to have them take center stage. Maisenta: Admirers will flock from malms around for the chance to see the Homunculi and their new, specially prepared material. Maisenta: I can picture it now... The dulcet tones of my beautiful bards filling the ears of festival-goers young and old, with Black Rabbit Traders making gil hand over fist from all of the garments we sell. Maisenta: And what's more, the presence of such renowned artists will raise the profile of the celebration, meaning that Amh Garanjy and her Starlight celebrants will have even more reason to be cheerful. Maisenta: All that remains is for the Homunculi to fulfill their part of the bargain, and put together a few songs for the concert itself. Therein lies the problem. Oscarlet: Were this any other performance, we would mesmerize the crowds with a few favorites from our repertoire, such as “Fair Lady, Return My Breeches” or “Hey Nonny, Nonny, Maiden Most Bonny.” Fearing that such material may not be...appropriate, we thought it best to work on some new pieces.

オギュスティニエル : 星芒祭は、イシュガルドの実話をもとにした聖祭だろ？ オレたちは、グリダニアの音色しか知らないから、 作曲家に音楽の製作を依頼したのさ。 オギュスティニエル : そしたら、どこで行き違ったのか、 頼んだ内容と違う楽譜が届いちまったんだ……！ 男女混声で、4人で歌うなんて、これっぽっちもかすってねぇ！ オルセルフォ : 作り直してもらうにも、もはや間に合いません……。 いまの私たちは、 嘆きの森をさまよう、か弱き乙女のよう……。

AUGUSTINIEL: Our music is composed in the Gridanian tradition, but given that the Starlight Celebration is an Ishgardian holiday, and a holy festival at that, we thought it best to reserve our sylvan melodies for another performance on some other day. Thus, we sought the aid of an Ishgardian composer who would have better knowledge of what the celebrants envision. AUGUSTINIEL: So imagine our surprise when we received the manuscripts only to find that they were not as we requested! This score is written for a mixed choir — four singers, two male and two female. How could they have possibly misconstrued something so important? ORSELFAUX: And there certainly isn’t enough time to have it rewritten. We are helpless as fragile maidens, wandering lost in the Shroud... 

LOCALIZATION Augustiniel: But this occasion calls for traditional Ishgardian music, whereas we weave our entrancing melodies in the classic Gridanian style. To better fulfill the needs of the Starlight Celebration, we sought the aid of an Ishgardian composer. Augustiniel: Upon taking receipt of the manuscripts, however, we found that they were written for a mixed choir. Four singers, two male and two female. It does not take a musical aficionado to appreciate that the Homunculi are ill-equipped for such a performance. Orselfaux: To make matters worse, there simply isn't time to have the pieces rewritten. We are well and truly out of our element, like proverbial babes in the wood. Whatever will we do?

マイセンタ : もうっ！　ウジウジしている場合ではありませんわ！ こうなってしまった以上、いまある選択肢で、 できることを考えなくては！ マイセンタ : まずは、歌い手の問題ですわね。 男女混声では、3人を歌わせることができませんもの。 あらたな歌い手を探さないと……。 マイセンタ : 作曲家から受け取った楽譜には、 歌い手の声質の指示も記載されていましたわ。 けれど、どれもこれも、抽象的なものばかり……。 マイセンタ : 「小鳥のさえずりのような軽やかな女声」に、 「水のように柔らかな女声」と「木々のような伸びやかな男声」。 そして「大地のとどろきのような男声」……。 マイセンタ : 急には、思いつきませんわね…………。

MAISENTA: Oh, come on, now! Do you all plan to just stand there and mope until the celebration starts? With things the way they are, we need to evaluate our options and decide on what we can do about it! MAISENTA: Let’s focus on the issue of our vocalists. With a mixed choir of two men and two women, we have three roles that need to be filled. I’m sure one of you can take at least one of the male roles. MAISENTA: Fortunately, the composer saw fit to provide instructions on the kinds of voices this score requires. But these descriptions are certainly... abstract. MAISENTA: First, we need a female voice “light and airy as the chirping of a bird,” whereas the other female voice must be “velvety as water.” One male voice needs to be “reminiscent of the outstretched branches of a tree,” but the second male voice must “rumble with the strength of the earth.”

LOCALIZATION Maisenta: All of this moping is getting us nowhere! Are you professionals or not? Maisenta: What we need are solutions, and fast. First of all, let us select our vocalists. Maisenta: Luckily, the composer has provided instructions on the kind of voices required to carry the melody. Though I must admit, I can make neither head nor tail of these notes. Maisenta: One of the female voices must be “as uplifting as birdsong on a crisp winter's morning,” and the other “ephemeral as a zephyr across a sun-dappled stream.” For the males, “reminiscent of a mighty oak's outstretched boughs” and “deep and cavernous as the bowels of the earth.” Maisenta: We have to start our search somewhere I suppose.

マイセンタ : [PLAYER]さんは、 どなたか思い当たりませんこと？ マイセンタ : あなたの想像でいいので、 向いていそうな方の、名前を挙げてくださらない？ たとえば「小鳥のさえずりのような軽やかな女声」とか……。

MAISENTA: [PLAYER], what do you think? MAISENTA: Can you think of anyone with a voice as “light and airy as the chirping of a bird?”

LOCALIZATION Maisenta: Francel, perhaps you can help. Maisenta: Can you think of anyone who possesses a voice “as uplifting as birdsong on a crisp winter's morning?”

→ If you choose Amh Garanjy...

マイセンタ : たしかにあの方は、 可愛らしい印象どおりの声をしていましたわね！ マイセンタ : 星芒祭のためとあれば、断らないだろうし…… 彼女以上���適任はいないでしょう。 あなた、よく思いつきましたわね。

MAISENTA: She does have an rather cute voice, doesn’t she? MAISENTA: And as a Starlight celebrant, she isn’t likely to refuse us should we ask for her aid. I daresay there’s no one better-suited to the role. My, you’ve chosen well.

LOCALIZATION Maisenta: Why hadn't I thought of that? If the cheerful manner in which she speaks is any indication, her singing voice may be exactly what we are looking for. Maisenta: Being a Starlight celebrant, she can hardly refuse. I daresay you've found the perfect candidate.

→ If you choose a chocobo...

マイセンタ : チョ、チョコボ……！？ あなた本気で言ってますの……？ 合唱をするんですのよ！ マイセンタ : そうだわ、あの星芒祭実行委員長の、 アムさんなんかいいんじゃないかしら！ わ、我ながらよく思いついたわ！

MAISENTA: A-A chocobo?! I’m sorry, are you suggesting that in earnest? You do realize we’re talking about a choir, here?! MAISENTA: Ugh, well, how about Amh? She’ll be perfectly suited to the task! I think she’s an excellent choice — even if I do say so myself...

LOCALIZATION Maisenta: A chocobo!? Where the manuscripts mention birdsong, I don't think it was supposed to be taken literally! We can't have one of those smelly beasts kweh-ing its way through the concert. Maisenta: If I were you, I would avoid making similar japes in future─ It really doesn't suit you, dear. For lack of any better suggestions, how about...Amh Garanjy? Come to think of it, she may well be the perfect choice. A charming young lady like her is sure to have a singing voice to match.

マイセンタ : 次は……そうね、「水のように柔らかな女声」はどうかし��。 こちらも、あなたの想像でいいので、 どなたか思いつくなら、教えてほしいですわ！

MAISENTA: Next, we need to find a female vocalist with a voice as “velvety as water.” Who comes to your mind when you hear that description?

LOCALIZATION Maisenta: With that settled, we should move on to our second female vocalist. Can you think of anyone with a voice as “ephemeral as a zephyr across a sun-dappled stream?”

→ If you choose Maisenta...

マイセンタ : わ、私ですって……？ そんな、私には経験もないし、無理よ！ マイセンタ : いや、でも…………。 ホムンクルスと黒兎堂のためなら……やりますわ。 この事業が失敗したら、黒兎堂の名折れですもの。

MAISENTA: M-Me...? But — but I haven’t any experience in singing! MAISENTA: Well... Oh, don’t look at me like that. If it’s for the Homunculi and Black Rabbit Traders, I can’t just excuse myself from the proceedings, can I? I mean, if this whole production flops, it’s my tailfeathers on the line...

LOCALIZATION Maisenta: Me!? You must be joking! Maisenta: You're serious, aren't you? Hmm...I am somewhat partial to humming the odd tune while enjoying a long soak in the bath. I should be able to get through it without making too big a fool of myself. And it's for a good cause.

→ If you choose Kan-e-Senna...

マイセンタ : カヌ・エ様……！？ あなた、とんでもないことをおっしゃるのね……。 この国を導く方に、そんなこと���せられるわけないでしょう。 マイセンタ : あの方以外に思いつかないのなら…… 私がやるしかないでしょうね。 ホムンクルスと黒兎堂のためですもの。

MAISENTA: Kan-e-Senna?! You... You really do say the most outrageous things, don’t you? I should think this hardly needs to be said, but her time would be better spent on the betterment of the nation. MAISENTA: Oh, very well. If you truly can’t think of anyone else, I’ll just have to do it myself. I’ll just tell myself it’s for the sake of the Homunculi and Black Rabbit Traders...

LOCALIZATION Maisenta: The Elder Seedseer herself!? Have you taken leave of your senses? Generous and benevolent she may be, but I struggle to imagine her joining our little choir group! Maisenta: There's only one thing for it: I will just have to do it myself. My devotion to the Homunculi and Black Rabbit Traders compels me! There is also the fact that I have already invested too much in this venture to allow it to fail now.

オギュスティニエル : そいつはいい考えだぜ！ オレたちも、マイセンタさんっていい声してるって、 前から思ってたんだ！ マイセンタ : ま、まったく、口がうまいんですから！ そんなに褒めても、特別賞与は出しませんわよ！ オスカルレ : あとは、男声ができる2人だね！ 僕たちのうちの、誰かができるといいんだけど。 オルセルフォ : 「木々のような伸びやかな男声」は、 私たちの中でもっとも声のとおる、 オギュスティニエルが最適ではないでしょうか……。 マイセンタ : それはもちろん、オギュがいいでしょうけれど……。 残りの「大地のとどろきのような男声」が問題ですわ。 あなたたちのような繊細な声では、合わないですから……。 マイセンタ : ……この件はひとまず保留にいたしましょう。 あとで私が適任な者を探しておきますわ。

AUGUSTINIEL: What a magnificent suggestion! Maisenta, dearest, haven’t we always told you that you have a lovely voice? MAISENTA: Don’t you sweet-talk me! You can praise me all you like, but you’re not going to get any year-end bonuses out of it! OSCARLET: So, what about the male vocalists, then? I hope one of us can do it! ORSELFAUX: “Reminiscent of the outstretched branches of a tree.” Of the three of us, I would say Augustiniel would be best-suited to that role. MAISENTA: Well, yes, Aug can certainly take that part. But the second male vocalist must have a voice that can “rumble with the strength of the earth.” You and Oscarlet have more... silken vocals. MAISENTA: ...Well, let’s just put that off for now. We'll simply have to find someone for it later.

LOCALIZATION Augustiniel: Maisenta, my darling! It would be an honor to join my voice with yours in musical matrimony! Maisenta: Let's not get carried away! For all you know, I could be a dreadful singer! Oscarlet: Fear not, my lady, for we shall be on hand to provide all the tutelage you might require. Though the question remains─which two lucky fellows will be accompanying you? Orselfaux: “Reminiscent of a mighty oak's outstretched boughs.” I would say that description fits Augustiniel's soaring vocals. Maisenta: I couldn't agree more. Finding someone whose voice is “deep and cavernous as the bowels of the earth” may prove a little more challenging. The Homunculi's music rarely ventures into the lower notes. Maisenta: At the risk of volunteering myself for that role too, mayhaps we should put that matter to one side for now.

マイセンタ : [PLAYER]さんには申し訳ないけれど、 ごらんのとおり、仕事がとても立て込んでおりますの。 私たちを助けると思って、お手伝いいただけないかしら。 マイセンタ : 感謝いたしますわ！ では、あなたには「聖歌隊のタクト」と「聖歌隊の衣装」の、 調達をお願いいたします。 マイセンタ : それぞれ、「木工師ギルド」の「ベアティヌ」さんと、 ウルダハの「裁縫師ギルド」にいる、 「レドレント・ローズ」さんに発注してありますの。 マイセンタ : あなたは、それらを引き取ってくださるだけでかまいませんわ！ その後は「ミィ・ケット野外音楽堂」の、 「アム・ガランジ」さんに渡してくださいませね。 マイセンタ : 私たちも、歌い手の手配をしたらまいりますわ！ どうかよろしくお願いいたしますね。

MAISENTA: I hate to trouble you, [PLAYER], but as you can see, I’ll have my hands full with all of... this. Could you lend us a hand with a different task? MAISENTA: It’s much appreciated. I’d like you to pick up the conductor’s baton and the choir surplices we’ll need for the performance. MAISENTA: Beatin of the Carpenter’s Guild will have the first item, and Redolent Rose of the Weaver’s Guild will have the rest.  MAISENTA: Afterwards, please take everything to Amh Garanjy in Mih Khetto’s Amphitheatre. She’ll know what to do. MAISENTA: In the meantime, we’ll have to rehearse for our performance. I can’t thank you enough!

LOCALIZATION Maisenta: Francel, might I be able to ask a favor of you? Two favors, actually. Maisenta: Keen as always! And I haven't even told you what the favors are yet! Maisenta: I need you to collect a conductor's baton from Beatin of the Carpenter's Guild, as well as an order of choir surplices from Redolent Rose over at the Weavers' Guild in Ul'dah. Maisenta: After paying a visit to these master artisans, head straight to Amh Garanjy in Mih Khetto's Amphitheatre. She will be expecting you. Maisenta: In the meantime, it seems prudent for us to rehearse away from prying...ears. Now, make haste, Francel!

→ If you are not a member of the Carpenter’s Guild...

ベアティヌ : 私に……なにか用ですか……？

BEATIN: ...What business do you have with me...?

LOCALIZATION Beatin: How might I help you?

→ If you are a member of the Carpenter’s Guild...

ベアティヌ : [PLAYER]さん…… どうしました……？ 先生に質問でもあるのですか……？

BEATIN: [PLAYER]... What seems to be the matter? Have you some question for your Master Beatin...?

LOCALIZATION Beatin: So, [PLAYER], are you any closer to becoming one with the wood?

ベアティヌ : ああ……マイセンタさんから頼まれた、タクトですね……。 もちろんできあがってますよ……。 ベアティヌ : 本体は、なめらかなメープル材を使って…… 持ち手はコルクで、手になじみやすいように作っています……。 美しい逸品に仕上がりましたよ……フフ、フフフ……。 ベアティヌ : マイセンタさんは、金に糸目はつけないから、 いい品をつくってほしいと注文してきました。 ホムンクルスのことになると、ずいぶん熱心なようだ……。 ベアティヌ : 私も気持ちはわかりますよ……。 好きなものについては、こだわりが強くなるのも、 当然のことです……フフフ……。

BEATIN: Ah, yes, of course... The conductor’s baton that Miss Maisenta requested. BEATIN: See here, the body of the baton is wrought from maple, whereas the handle is made of cork, allowing for a certain comfort of grip... A most beautiful piece, is it not...? Haha... hahaha.... BEATIN: Miss Maisenta asked for only the finest quality of craftsmanship, heedless of the expense involved. When it comes to her Homunculi, she becomes possessed of an ardent zeal unlike aught else... BEATIN: Ah, but I understand her passions... Men and women alike know no barriers when it comes to the obsessions of the heart. Is that not true of all things...? Hahaha...

LOCALIZATION Beatin: Ah, yes. I have the conductor's baton right here. Beatin: Since the guild seldom receives orders for such items, I thought it best to deal with this one personally. The maple gives it a certain degree of flexibility while the cork grip allows it to be held between thumb and index finger without fear of dropping it. Beatin: I am confident that Maisenta will appreciate the quality of the craftsmanship. While my services do not come cheap, she is sure to feel that her money was well spent. Beatin: And spend she did. In all honesty, a simple twig would probably suffice, but nothing is too good for her Homunculi. I must admit, I do not see the appeal in those preening pretty boys. The sigh of a saw on wood and the tap of a hammer on chisel are all the music I need.

→ If you are not a member of the Weaver’s Guild...

レドレント・ローズ : あら、私になにかご用？

REDOLENT ROSE: Yes? What do you want with little old me?

LOCALIZATION Redolent Rose: Oh, what's this? A customer? Or perhaps some lackey sent on an errand?

→ If you are a member of the Weaver’s Guild...

レドレント・ローズ : あら、[PLAYER]ちゃんじゃないの！ 今日はどうしたのかしら？

REDOLENT ROSE: Oh, goodness, if it isn’t [PLAYER]! Darling! What brought you here today?

LOCALIZATION Redolent Rose: Well, well. If it isn't [PLAYER]. I trust you have not been neglecting your needlework.

レドレント・ローズ : ああ、マイセンタちゃんから頼まれた、 聖歌隊にふさわしい衣装ね！ これから売り出そうと思ってた、可愛いのがあるのよぅ！ レドレント・ローズ : ほら、これよこれ、持っていきなさい！ ちょっと数が多いけど、 黒兎堂に卸す分まで、ついでに持ってってちょうだいな！ レドレント・ローズ : それにしても、やり手のマイセンタちゃんでも、 あなたみたいな冒険者に仕事を頼むほど、 追い込まれることもあるのねぇ。 レドレント・ローズ : ふふっ、あんなにお固そうな子でも、 好きな男のためには頑張っちゃうってことかしら。 可愛いところあるじゃなーい！

REDOLENT ROSE: Oh, yes, the choir surplices that sweet Maisenta requested? Are they not the most adorable things you’ve ever seen? Darling, these are going to sell like chilled juice down at Vesper’s Bay. REDOLENT ROSE: There’s more of them here, too, if you don’t mind taking them off my hands. It’s a lot, I know, but the Weaver’s Guild is selling them to Black Rabbit Traders in bulk. I’m sure they’re planning to turn quite the profit at the Starlight Celebration. REDOLENT ROSE: But my, my, that Maisenta is a smooth little hustler, isn’t she? I never thought she’d have an adventurer like you running her errands! That girl can talk anyone into anything. REDOLENT ROSE: Oh, I don’t mean that in a bad way. She might know how to drive a hard bargain, but she’s soft when it comes to those boys she loves. Isn’t it absolutely darling to watch her doing her best? Tee hee!

LOCALIZATION Redolent Rose: The choir surplices? Not the most challenging request the guild has received, but a welcome change from all the plebeians asking us to add arse flaps to their culottes. Redolent Rose: Another pleasant surprise was the amount Maisenta was willing to pay for them. So generous was she that I thought it only fair to include a few more. Knowing her, she will find a way to pitch them to festival-goers, so any surplus surplices could be sold on for a profit. Redolent Rose: This could even mark the beginning of a very lucrative venture for Black Rabbit Traders and the Weavers' Guild. Redolent Rose: Our mutual acquaintance is undoubtedly counting the gil as we speak, so I suggest you deliver these garments to her posthaste. Best of luck with the Starlight Celebration!

TRANSLATOR’S NOTES Cute details for those of you who understand Japanese on, like, a weeaboo level (no shade, I’m also a weeb):

Maisenta refers to her Homunculi, generally, as “kono kotachi,” or “those children.” It’s more or less commonly understood that you refer to things that you are fond of — like pets, and cute animals, and people you think are endearingly childish — as “ko” in this way. To approximate this, I had Maisenta refer the Homunculi as “boys” (or, of course, her “boy band”) — you know, like they’re hot, but they’re naive, and she needs to keep them safe and watch out for them.

At one point, Maisenta mentions that the Homunculi are popular with the 婦女子 (fujoshi), or women, of Gridania. Note that this is not the term 腐女子 (also fujoshi), or rotten women, commonly used to denote fans of the boy’s love genre — 婦女子 is a term for women that is very slightly outdated, sort of like womenfolk. However, the two words are homonyms, and intentionally so, since the BL term is a pun on the older word. I’m honestly not here to suggest that BL fans exist in Eorzea, but I definitely laughed.

Maisenta really does call Augustiniel “Ogu,” or “Aug,” which is a bit of a rarity as I don’t normally see character names abbreviated in this way.

Beatin refers to himself as “sensei,” with the effect that he’s one of those mildly creepy teachers who kind of gives you the heebie-jeebies, but he’s well-meaning at heart and really just wants to help you learn. Maybe.

Redolent Rose really is that maidenish and cutesy in Japanese, and refers to basically everyone as “-chan,” so in an effort to approximate this I gave him a speech quirk of saying that everything is darling. Honestly, he really is pretty cute.

[fractaele-m]

"i know i'm not your dad, i'll never try to be, but if it means anything," the huntsman pauses, making sure to give weiss a sincere smile while his hand drops atop her shoulder, "i'm proud of you, and what you and my daughters have managed to accomplish. i think you should be, too."

           the desperation clawed against her bones. how she had wished those words uttered to her would have been gifted from someone else. she could not meet his gaze , wringing her hands in front of her. ❛     ——— it’s father.     ❜ blue hues widened as she spoke , startled at the words that fell forth from her lips. father was a faraway term , no affection in the icy way it was said. there was a distance between that man &. her. no matter what she did to run towards him , he only moved further away. there were no terms of endearment between them given in love. if there were any uttered it was just for a show to others around them.  ———  &. weiss , never returned it for it made her feel disgusting for watching the lies fester &. flourish in him. so , no her father was not a dad. the thought played a fanciful imagination in  her head to share it with him. perhaps , a smile or laughter ! a hug , a gentle brush of her hair. it spiraled out into dream of spring to have that sort of relationship with the infamous jacques gelé schnee.  however , fever broke &. she faced a reality stark. no … if she were to call him that it would be reprimand.

            pressing mouth into a sealed line , shoulders shook. a tiny bud began to bloom inside her , her soul ached as the emotion grew. a swallow of to hide turmoil that beat within her , she gave a soft smile to the man. ruby &. yang’s dad who radiated sunshine , goofiness , &. kindness so strong that no wonder his daughters reflected the same warmth. it was an overwhelming wave of something foreign. ❛     i … i wouldn’t want you to be like him.     ❜ no , tai was the opposite of her ‘ beloved ’ father. he laughed , he hugged , he joked , he loved … &. loved on his precious daughters. it was like a new story unfolding before her curious gaze. her deepest desire , she wished for him to remain unchanged , if this adoration was his norm. 

            chewing on inner lip , she ruminated on pride , it was so unfamiliar to her to be received from others. there had been such a longing of it within her to hear it that she had concluded that the only one to take pride in her was her. it was looked down upon from others , often they saw her as a narcissist. forever , she thought she would never be enough , always a disappointment in their judging eyes.  

           yet , yet ! this man whose warm hands sat atop her shoulders made her feel so secure in everything he said. there was no malice in his tone. it made him all the more convincing. why did she trust an almost complete stranger ?? it went against her nature but she did. letting out a light laugh in relief that those words had finally had been said. she made sure to siphon away this rush of purest pride  ———  to savor it as long as she could. this was what it felt like to be the source of someone’s pride. the levity at his words gave her heart wings. it made her want more but even in her selfishness , she stopped herself. ( no , this is more than enough for you. )  ❛     thank you.     ❜ two words were weighted with more than a well-mannered response for the compliment. thank you for treating me without bias. thank you for raising such wonderful people. thank you for being a dad to them. thank you for showing me what real love looks like between a father &. daughters. just … thank you. 

@dadjckes. unprompted. ——— aa. 

[eternalstereksecretsanta]

Quit Dragon Me Down

@acollectionofsterek​ - Happy Christmas!

Stiles squeezed his eyes shut as the carriage faded from view, but he could not stop the tears from leaking out and flooding down his face. Another couple, taken, and their only sin was love. In the eyes of Human law, however, “love” was another word for “heretic” when the bond was between two of the same sex.

Another couple from his clan he could not save. Another couple from his kingdom as a whole who would perish because mortals were foolish. And because he was not king, he could not do a thing about it.

And the king would not listen to this voice of his only son.

Stiles would know, because he had tried relentless. Maybe that was the reason for the steep curve of his shoulders, this weight that would cause him to crumble if he had to bear it much longer. The guilt. Too many friends, too many Clanmates, too many of his People. All because his father, the king, was too scared to oppose the Human’s council, for fear that if he made a stand, the secrets of the Dragons would be released and royal family or no, a massacre might ensue not only against the royal house, but even single Dragon in the Clan. Because the humans had no idea their royal family was comprised of dragons, or even that dragons existed. Although, why the secret of Dragons should be in danger if his father took a stand, Stiles could not figure out. Maybe his father figured it would slip out during the explanation of why same-sex love was not a crime, or bad, or disgusting, or derogatory.

Because Humans could not fucking comprehend the ability to love anyone with the same genitals. Or anyone at all, with the amount of slaughtering they did. Senselessly. Shamelessly. At great cost.

Because humans could be more monstrous, destructive, deadly, than any fictional story they had ever created for themselves to read at night.

Doyle. Doyle and Finn. Both 17, a mere 4 years younger than he. Two sweet dragons, childhood Bondmates, who got Reported. Fucking traitors. Fucking cads. Fucking scoundrels!

Stiles squeezed his fists white, because as the prince that was as much anger in his stages of grief that he was allowed to show. Maybe not even pressed fists, but concessions must be made. He was losing it. Good men and woman, disappearing. For what? Because they couldn’t reproduce? Because they “harmed” people who would rather sentence lives to death than look away?

Doyle and Finn.

Trish and Anya.

Fairchild and Alazar.

Hans and Fynnegan.

Tonya and Michelle.

Tony and Michel.

Lorna and Francie.

And [i]that [/i] was the Report toll in the last fortnight for god’s sake! At this rate, no one would be left because the population was being culled faster than could be reproduced. And his father would do nothing. He would stand by and watch his People die.

This was not the greater good, no matter what his dad tried to convince him. This was pain. This was sorrow. This was an ache.

And the worst part was that Stiles was forbidden to have his Bonded, because his Bonded was also a man. 5 years, Stiles has had to watch his beloved from the shadows. At least if he wanted to openly oogle. In close quarters, he had to act unnatural. For natural would be ravishing his mate and relishing in their bond, starting the process that would give his human mate the same long life span as his dragon mate. But no. Humans and their pea sized brains restricted him from his only. Except for Derek. Derek did not have a pea sized brain. Derek was perfect. Derek was the sun, and the moon, and quite possibly his northern star. Stars were important to dragons. Derek was definitely his northern star. Fuck it, his whole damn universe.

Which is really damn tragic because he was clumsy as hell and probably made bad impressions on the love of his life daily. But the love of his life mostly looked bemused with him and not offended or horrified so it was okay.

And it’s not like it was either or their faults that Stiles’ world revolved around Derek more steadfast than his duty to his kingdom, that’s just how the bond worked; instantly and intensely. But neither the bond nor being a prince cure him of being an awkward, hyper young man.

But what can cure him of being awkward and hyper? This shit. This shit brought out his dragon, and his dragon was a lot more composed and a lot deadlier, even when Stiles managed to restrain his dragon within his human form.

Hell hath no fury like a man forced to watch his beloved remain unclaimed and watch people he cared about die.

A hand landed on his shoulder, and jerked him out of his stare down with the long-empty gravel road.

“Your highness, we must go. It is not proper for you to be seen here.” His royal guard urged.

“Right. Let us go.” Stiles looked down at the puddle he had created and crushed the moist dirt with his boot.

The dust has settled but his rage had not.

——-

Derek paused from where his mallet hit steel and wiped his arm across his brow. He was hot, his shirt was soaked through with sweat, the drops of moisture sliding from his face sizzled as they hit hot metal, but he felt the cool pinpricks of hair standing up on the back of his neck. He was being watched, the same constant feeling he had had for the last 5 years. He knew better than to look, because the feeling-his watcher-simply went away and he never gained any answers.

The only thing he knew was that he felt The Pull. Whoever was watching him was his mate, was aware they were mates for why else would they stalk him for 5 years, and would not reveal themselves to Derek. This was either because they thought Derek was human and humans did not know about shifters, or they were a man. Both options sucked.

And Derek had no clue who his mate was because The Pull was constant, but it was also unchanging, meaning he couldn’t gauge a shift in The Pull based on physical location. Lord, that would help. But, no. It was a constant, baseline hum. And he was going mad.

Daily, he’d get female admirers-they would come in, watch him work, stroke his arm to feel his “muscles”, giggle. He’d even get males who would watch him out of the corners of their eyes. But none would initiate the bonding process. So if his mate was interacting with him, they were keeping their hormones or mental control or whatever the hell kick-started a matebond, dormant. Unaccessed. Abandoned.

That’s how Derek felt, abandoned.

Not by his family. They were always there, always noisy, always loving on him, even on his grumpiest days. But his mate did not want him for whatever reason, refused to claim him, and until a werewolf was Claimed, they could not shift. Being stuck in his human form was a slap to Derek’s pride and a prison sentence to his wolf.

He had better hearing, better smell, even claws and fangs on occasion. But no wolf could fully shift until their wolf was Released by a claim. For a werewolf, it was part of their bonding ceremony. But a good number of werewolves would always be trapped in a sole-human form, because they could no longer mate without risking their lives. Derek hoped his mate wasn’t a man, because he did not want to spend a life alone, but he also did not want a woman.

He used to, but he had been taken in by the lowest of the low and put under her spell. His mate had saved him with a warning. His mate, always watchful but never forthcoming. Rejected and yet protected. Conflicted. This was why Derek had to pause with a groan of frustration, a rumble in his chest that reached up and scratched his dry throat, as he had to toss yet another mostly-finished piece of craftsmanship away. As soothing as being a blacksmith was, it also let his demons catch up to him. And, unfortunately, his demons always decided to destress instead of appreciate his hard work.

Chucking the ruined scraps of metal into the water bucket and then a growing pile in the corner, he pulled out a new sheet of metal and started again.

Stubbornly, he ignored Boyd on the other side of the furnace, shaking his head at Derek in pity.

——-

Hauling heavy things was no problem for Derek, because he was strong. Hauling his work to the castle gave him a cold sweat because Prince Stiles lived there. Prince Stiles was an annoying younger man who made Derek feel funny. Prince Stiles tied up Derek’s tongue, much to his chagrin and Stiles’ delight.

Sure enough, as he passed through the gates with his commissioned work, just in front of the castle on the stone walls around the garden, sat Stiles, leaning back on a bricked curve, chewing an apple, reading a book, and swinging his hanging leg like there was nothing better in the world he could possibly be doing.

Except maybe annoying the stuffing out of Derek.

Derek moved past Prince Stiles, ready to do his best to ignore him, but then he caught a whiff of agony. And the smallest traces of salt. The prince had been crying. Maybe not at the moment, but recently. The wolf inside Derek made him stop, grew restless.

“Prince Stiles,” Derek announced, but it came out louder than he intended and the prince startled, yelped, and promptly fell off the side of the border wall.

He came back up rubbing his flank as he rose, a hiss clacking through his teeth. It took him a few seconds to open his eyes, trying to soothe the pain before figuring out who the blazes had the audacity to cause him injury, to find his beloved. Instantly his annoyance changed to warm, fuzzy feelings, his ire forgotten, his booboos better. For how could they not be, when he got to be this close to his Bonded.

“Are you alright?” Derek asked, stepping near him.

“Oh yes, I’m okay! Thank you Mr. Hale. Quite well, actually. My bum only hurt for a moment, no big deal!” he hurried to assure him. Derek pinked up adorably.

“Oh, well that’s good! Indeed, I’m glad to hear it. But I was referring to the tear tracks on your face. Just there.” Derek reached out and gently swiped his thumb over Stiles’ cheek, compassion in his eyes. Stiles couldn’t even find it in himself to be embarrassed (or indignant that Derek saw) that he was doing something so unmanly as cry, because he was being touched by an angel.

His eyes slid shut, and he embraced the feeling for mere moments before he abruptly stepped back. Derek must have realized the danger too, because the move was simultaneous.

“Yes, that. I’m okay, Mr. Hale.” Stiles pressed his lips together and looked at the ground, trying to keep from blubbering anew. Patient silence followed, giving Stiles the strength to speak further. “It’s just….you remember Doyle? From the bakery? And his sweet parents?” Stiles bit his lip, losing the battle, his voice squeaking, his tears releasing. Crying was to be therapeutic, but so far it wasn’t. It just wasn’t.

Derek dropped the metal he was hauling and pulled the man to him, and then for proprieties sake, dragged him, chest to chest, inside the high walls of the garden and away from the opening. Here, he could hold the man that drove him crazy but also grounded him. The man that was now breaking down and trusting Derek to see him like this. “Shhh, yes. I remember.”

His hand went up to stroke the princes head, gently, trying to soothe. Stiles’ hands came up and grasped Derek’s tunic in a death grip. “They took him!” he wailed. “He’s gone, and so is his lover. They were my friends. I don’t have many of those. And now they’re both gone and my father will do nothing.”

Derek’s heart clenched. Not only could he not ease Stiles’ pain, but those men were good men. They were part of Stiles’ clan, if Derek was not mistaken. Both red dragons. Both childhood sweethearts, having felt their bond early in life. And now they were being punished for it.

Doyle, who had eyes only for Finn, which was more than Derek could say about most married men. And Finn, who worked opposite shifts at the Blacksmith. A real stand-up guy who Derek shared his noon meal with when Finn could not provide his own. Equally devoted to his mate Doyle.

Gone.

Derek said nothing, just clung to the weeping man in his arms that much tighter, his delivery forgotten and soiled on the ground.

And Derek felt confused, because this felt a little like love.

(read the rest on AO3 soon)

[ladyeleanorfortescue]

Letters

[To Baroness Lenora Scully from Lady Eleanor Fortescue.

Alongside the letter comes a big box of lavender bonbons and a little parcel which includes a baby's bonnet and some art supplies.]

My darling Nora,

You cannot imagine the extent of my longing to see you once more! You say your mood has been troubled, but I hope your health is not? Before quitting Tyrehampton, I confess, I intended to write to Dr Hayward and have him go to you and give you a look. That one day, you must remember which, you left me quite worried... But, then, I never saw you as faint again... And so I never did bother the poor doctor. Pray consult him if you feel anything out of the ordinary, it is better to ask and appear a fool than to remain quiet and have something progress in the shadows of one's knowledge! Please put me at ease on this respect in your next letter.

London... Well, it is not as exciting when one's spirit roams elsewhere. And when no one will shut up about Mary marrying this tremendously old man. On that note, I have had the opportunity of seeing Lord Killenaigh twice more since I have arrived here and my mind remains unchanged. He is dull and traditional, speaks only when it is required of him and, when he does, he says the most unfascinating and banal of things. If he has ever had a fire burning behind his eyes, the flame has long been extinguished. A pity... But I suppose having a boring husband is better than having a mean, disagreeable one. Although I would settle for neither, for I could love neither. Mary, for her part, seems ecstatic at the prospect of becoming a Baroness. And I assure you she will not refrain from rubbing her new title in everyone's faces. Now she is equal to our sister Hester, Baroness King, and that is a pleasing upgrade for her narrow mind. I am afraid that shall be the only happiness she will ever get from such a match. And, oh! I do not know if I mentioned it to you, but she is to become a mother too! To Baron Killenaigh's two children, a son my age and a younger daughter the age of my sister Lizzie. How they will ever come to view her as their mother I do not know, she is barely three years older than Lord Frederick! Now, we are yet to meet him for he has been away at school, but he shall be arriving any day now. And, who knows? Perhaps my mother will try and push him into marrying Anne. You can bet that now that Mary shall be satisfactorily settled, her eyes will turn to my poor, gentle, loving Annie. I can only hope she shall not impose on her the busy schedule imposed on Mary this Season, Anne could not take it... London has not been great for her health. I wish this wedding could be over with and we could head to Devonshire straight away. I'd rather suffer in an open field than in this dirty city.

John has been well. I am sure he is glad of being relieved from the task of keeping guard on me. I am convinced Mother sent him to Tyrehampton with that purpose. I must say, if that was the case, he did not do a very good job, did he? Ah, but I adore him. I would completely rely on him for amusement if I did not have dear Verity with me... Oh, speaking of Verity, Lizzie has taken quite a liking to her. I do not know why, but so she said to me the other day. Well, I do know. I told her about our adventures... She has come to see Verity as the picture of excitement and she says she should find such a companion for herself too. I told her she could not steal mine. She replied she was not a thieve and that she would find someone of her station. I scolded her greatly at this comment and she became cross with me, for I never do. But she says such things! Specially as of late... I do not want her to end up like my mother. She is young, there is still hope.

Of Hugh I spoke in my previous letter. He is not a kindred spirit. I do not think I shall mention him often. Unless he upsets me greatly, which he can be trusted to do. He is most unkind with me sometimes. You will hear very little of Hugh, but you shall hear plenty of George. Just this morning we received a hurried letter. Well, father did. It was addressed to him. This hurt me greatly, I sent him a three page letter last and he never got back to me! But it does not matter now. He shall be on leave, so he said, for three or four weeks. He did say he was not certain whether he would make it to Mary's wedding, but shall join us shortly. At this prospect I am elated! Oh, I cannot wait! I hope he has great tales to tell me and... I hope he has not seen many a terrible thing, although my hope is unfounded, for he was not simply at sea, but at war. I shall be sure to write a full description of George next time, so you may picture him in case you do not get to meet him! Even better, I shall draw you a portrait. I am not as talented as you, my dear friend, but I believe I can master a pretty good liking.

I beg of you, tell me of Tyrehampton! Of anyone, anything... You know what interests me. A kiss to you, my dear! And to majestic Voltaire, I hope he is still enjoying his crib!

Languishing,

Ellie

P.S I send your request! And some new art supplies and a little something from my beloved godchild-to-be.