#those that were here since the beginning are true warriors

[youchangedmedestiel]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Supernatural (TV 2005) 

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences 

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings 

Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester 

Characters: Endverse Castiel (Supernatural), Dean Winchester 

Additional Tags: Canon Universe, Canon Rewrite, Spoilers for Episode: s05e04 The End (Supernatural), Episode: s05e04 The End (Supernatural), Light Angst, First Kiss, Second Kiss, Neck Kissing, My First AO3 Post, But not my first destiel fic written 

Summary: When his future self goes on a mission and leaves him tied up in a cabin, Dean manages to escape and goes find Cas. Chuck tells him where he is and when he enters his cabin, he is surprised by what happens.

[kiss-me-muchoo]

𝐈𝐬 𝐢𝐭 𝐚 𝐰𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐈 𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐤𝐞? || 𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐮𝐬 𝐀𝐜𝐚cius 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐱 𝐄𝐦𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐨𝐫 𝐆𝐞𝐭a

part one: here || part two; i’ve been the archer

summary_ after returning from Egypt, you are set to marry your half brother Geta. When you fall in love with General Marcus Acaius, your brother tries everything to prevent you from slipping away from him.

warnings_CRINGE, age gap!, semi incest (do not romanticize irl) reader x Geta, drama, angst, VERY quick love confessions, implied SMUT +18

update nov 2024: my phone changed Acacius for Acaius, I’ll change it on these days bye

NOTES_ who’s afraid of little old me?, I just wished there were gallows in Ancient Rome, listen to my awful playlist for Marcus and the classic I have for Pedro bb.

♪ ♫ Pedro playlist + Marcus’s playlist ✰ Index (+ fics here)

If there was something you���d never miss… were the carmine sunsets. Those lasted more than usual. That kept the beginning of the night warm and made you the silent promise of another good day by the following morning.

It had been easy for your father to send you away as soon as your mother quit their marriage. Your brother was a big inconvenience and a hidden mistake that shattered your little wealthy family. Under the cautious look of the Roman Senate, your parents were still bonded in a strong marriage. But the truth was that your father never truly loved the woman who gave birth to you. Which led to your mother leaving for Egypt, a Roman Province. Soon after her departure, you were sent to Alexandria too.

Each day was a boost to your status. Learning a vast variety of languages and dialects, learning different types of dances, being able to handle weapons, and gaining control over the Egyptian cities, to help your powerful father; The Emperor.

You barely missed Rome. Your mother was a cold Empress that loosened all the knots your father could have tightened around you. Growing up used to the Egyptian parties, drinking the finest beer and bread. Taking occasional lovers since virginity was not a necessity for marriage in Egyptian society. One of those lovers specifically, was a tall warrior with sun-kissed bronze skin that transformed you into a woman in every aspect you couldn’t discover by yourself. It was a shame when he died after a bad injury during war.

In the present, being in your first years as a young woman, things were likely to change, and you were very aware of it. That didn’t stop you from having the time of your life in the vivid city of Alexandria. With very few friends, a dead lover, and a dream.

Every night you savored those carmine sunsets to pray to Venus. Perhaps your dream of finding a true love hadn’t happened yet due to praying to her instead to Hathor; the god of love in Egyptian territory. Nevertheless, you intended to marry a man who was ridiculously, recklessly, and borderline obsessed with you. You wanted to live the broken dream of your mother.

Until desires were abruptly paused one night. When you received a letter from your father.

“A letter from the Emperor. It is the wish of your father to have you back in Rome” Your walls crumbled into pieces. The face of shock was splashed all across your face as you listened to your mother.

“What motivated his decision?”

“I can assure you, I don’t know, my child,” your mother says vaguely, tending his favorite flowers inside the palace.

“Do not lie to me, mother” she sighs and suddenly, she starts crying. You don’t know what to do, but the sight unsettles you.

“He wants you to marry Geta…” your eyes get impossibly wide open, and you gasp in shock.

“My brother?” your mother nods. You pace back and forth, wondering why and how could your father come to that conclusion.

Although you were used to attending weddings in Egypt that came from a mother marrying her son, to a brother marrying his sister, it was… awkward. This was the boy that destroyed your family, the boy that would take half of your rights as heir was meant to be your husband and father of your children.

The mere thought scares you.

“Will you accompany me?” It’s the first thing you come up with.

“I must stay here since Egypt won’t have you now” You frown at her words. But your throat tightens, defying to produce tears that quickly threaten to spill everywhere.

“Be strong, remember everything I’ve taught you. No men will defy the tenacity of the emperor’s daughter.” you nod, your eyes prickling with fear that explodes in your chest.

“And in between, find the love I couldn’t keep, no matter what, y/n…”

“I’m seeing you again, Right, mother?” she nods, giving you a cold hug.

“I’ll always be here…”

For the first time, the carmine sunset does not bring you peace. Your mind is edging towards collapse as you approach Rome. As the light of the light leaves, you question everything. So many questions and nothing of time.

…

There were no shattered crystals after dinner as you expected. Your brother Geta welcomed you in Rome with excitement and it confused you even more. He gave you a short and personal tour of his newest garden and prepared the finest banquet made by all of the servants.

Geta is a sole copy of your father. Same mannerisms and style. Only behind his attentive look, you were aware of the sadistic man who talked to you with respect.

“Where is Father?” you ask him, sipping at your wine.

“An important meeting surged. He’ll join us tomorrow, we are preparing vast festivities”

“Festivities for what?” he smiles, you don’t like how compassionate and polite he’s being.

“Our marriage, soror” The heavy makeup on his face does everything to hide the truth of the narcissistic man he is.

You could swear he hated you because your mother was the sovereign empress and you the rightful heir. Your father just happened to have two wives and two kids at the same time.

And despite everything, you didn’t hate your brother. You despised her mother for drawing your own apart from your father. For convincing him to send you away from your solemn fair future. For transforming your brother into some incompetent who seemed to have a hunger for chaos and madness.

“I must thank you, for welcoming me… despite our background differences” It takes him aback. Geta expected a disheveled girl, a rebellious female who followed the ways of the savages; the Egyptians. But he encountered a bright and marvelous sister who tried to act with peace after being so far from home for so long.

“I wished we could’ve grown together, like a united family” you admit coldly, avoiding the whole marriage issue.

“We will be a family, y/n. I’ll make sure of that” he says hiding his lips in his cup of wine and it sends shivers running down your spine.

Geta sees how you stand up and politely push forward the chair you were seated in; excellent manners.

“As a tradition of mine, I’ll see the sunset and pray before going to rest. Please excuse me….” your brother nods, still processing your words as you leave the imposing place where you were born. You desperately need fresh air.

Near there’s a meadow with empty spaces. It’s just a piece of land that soon would probably serve to build another coliseum.

One thing is noticeable. Sunsets in Rome aren’t carmine… they are mauve. And for some reason, you can’t feel peace.

But you hold tight to your dream. Your happiness is what you’ve prioritized ever since a teenager.

That’s why you hadn’t failed a day to pray to Venus.

Venus, hear me, please. You whose care, throughout all the centuries, the unions of men and their lovers have been placed, what, I pray, have I come to merit? Release me from this uncertainty, gift me a lover, who will warm my heart for eternity. Venus, save me from the hells of my ancestries.

Someone touches your naked shoulder, it makes you gasp in horror.

“I didn’t mean to scare you.” someone says. When you turn around, you are facing a man who’s incredibly taller and broader than you. He’s significantly older than you, but he’s graceful. The second he takes to appreciate the sunset as well is your chance to study his profile. Gorgeous classical profile.

“Excuse me, but… Who are you?” you ask, moving aside, leaving his hand that rested on your shoulder in the air. He noticed it.

“General Acacius… I wondered why a woman was here all alone” you know him. He’s the most successful general your father ever had. He was a concise warrior, even considered a killer.

Somehow, you couldn’t help but find some sweetness in his deep voice. By knowing him for just a second, you felt comfortable by his side.

“I take pleasure in appreciating the sunset…” your soft features intrigued him. You looked slightly different than most of the women he sees in Rome.

“I haven’t appreciated the sky since I was a kid”

“What a shame, General. You would find some peace hidden between the clouds” Your accent was slightly colder than everyone’s. You didn’t have the golden hair that usually meant power. He was infatuated and tremendously interested in the woman he was facing.

“I must know where you come from…” he says, paying attention to your eyes. You smile, touching the little pearls that fall from your pale blue dress.

“I was born here… but circumstances made Alexandria my home. I arrived last night…” his eyes show surprise. He analyzed your bracelets, made of pure gold. You had a leaf crown with tiny sapphires that shimmered around your head. It wasn’t hard to tell who you were.

“majestas… you shouldn’t be here” he mutters and you don’t even flinch.

“I can assure you, General Acacius… I rarely find myself in the position of damsel in distress” he chuckles and you are relieved to see he doesn’t carry a ring around his finger. It was happening so fast, you wanted to know everything about him.

“You may call me Marcus. Except when we are in the presence of your father or brother” you remember you are supposed to marry your brother. But it wasn’t official just yet. And you were quickly falling for this older and gorgeous General.

After a sweet battle or glances, he has to put down his sword. You notice the details and the signs of years of use it has.

“Is this the weapon you master the most?” he nods, noticing the dry blood around the edges.

“Indeed… I learned to wield it before I even went to school” You smile, nervous but eager to throw your next comment. He was speaking very softly towards you. But it was obvious that he was a reserved and serious man.

“I use the spear and axe” Your revelation leaves Marcus surprised. There were very few female gladiators, most of them being treated worse than common slaves. No female in the Roman hierarchy wielded weapons.

“You truly are one of a kind, majestas” As the emperor’s daughter, you weren’t supposed to ever wield a weapon. Contrary to that rule, you were required to learn about politics. In Egypt, you were free.

“Oh, don’t call me that… my name is Y/n”

“Precious name…”

His smile mixed with yours burst in an obvious mutual flirtation. After talking for about two hours, the moon is the only witness in the dark meadows, where Marcus and you kiss until your lips are swollen and he has hydrated him after days of dryness. He promises to keep close to you as his fingers slip under the fabric of your tunic. You swear to welcome his touch no matter what as your hand palmed his girthy length under his heavy armor.

That night both of you seal your fate. That night Marcus Acacius ignites a vivid fire inside your heart.

…

Often, you wondered if candles could run out due to the excessive use of them each night. At least thirty candles are illuminating the place. You patiently wait in the room Marcus had in the Emperor’s palace, seated on the edge of the bed. When the General comes out, he spots you at his resting place. Immediately, you frown at him.

“You said it was a minor injury” There’s a lot of dry blood on his shoulder. He had taken a bath… but the injury was there, uncomfortably lying over his skin.

“It is a minor injury.” He assures, sitting beside you on the bed.

It’s been only a couple of days since you met him… and you are already too keen on him.

“There are no gladiators where I come from. Only warriors… Generals only command their soldiers. We never used weapons as a spectacle”

“I’m starting to believe Egypt is a better place than Rome” you shrug.

“I miss my home. I miss the freedom. I can’t marry Geta…” you admit out loud for the first time. Marcus huffs, he doesn’t have a problem with letting you know he is jealous.

“Right… the wedding.”

“I have to marry him after all. Only that way I could share the title of Empress with him” Marcus sighs tired.

“Am I descending into madness for these strong feelings I have for you?” you turn to look at him. Your hand moves to the end on top of his.

“I look into your eyes… and I feel safe, Marcus” you admit, straddling him. Your fingers trace his beard as you lean to kiss him deeply. He reciprocates and holds your hips steadily.

It’s a wild moment to openly share carnal passion, but neither of you cares. You push him against the feathery pillows and continue kissing. His hair gets tangled around your fingers and his forearms and hands have disappeared under your dress. You start throbbing and he gets hard. But the moment is suddenly interrupted by some footsteps near the room. In a blink of an eye, you get away from Marcus and he stands up from the bed too.

“Use the trail at the end of the hallway. I’ll see you tomorrow, satis” he says, kissing your forehead before you quietly leave his resting place.

Some guards were wandering around the place as usual. You skillfully pass by them, using the trail Marcus told you. But it’s dark and very quiet, not even illuminated by torches. Your sandals barely make a sound against the floors.

So it’s a huge surprise when a hand covers your mouth and the next thing you feel is getting slammed against the wall. It didn’t hurt you but it was violent.

You gasp for air and encounter your half-brother. He has his golden crown and velvet robes, his face almost clean of tints that weren’t his natural skin.

“What were you doing with Acacius?” You frown.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about” his ginger hair is the only thing that shines in the dark trail.

“Quit the lie, soror. Has he made you impure?”

Oh dear brother, if you knew my purity has been gone for many years. But the truth was that Marcus hadn’t claimed you his yet.

“No. And it should not be a matter of importance to you” he chuckles.

Geta isn’t an idiot. He had seen the way Acacius looked at you during dinners. He noticed you came back to rest later than usual. And it was making him boil in anger. His disgust towards you before your arrival was strong. But after you turned to be a delight for his taste, Geta was burning for you.

“Oh, but it is a matter of importance to me. You are my future wife” he says, threatening to seal his lips with yours. The arm that was holding you still sneaked around your waist, applying a little too much pressure.

“Do you think I like the thought of other men touching or even smiling at you?”

Oh… so he was jealous.

His lips gently brush your neck as you set your eyes on the moon, waiting for the moment to be over. His touch is vicious, possessive, and harsh. The trail his lips have followed from your collarbones to your throat ends in your chin, mere inches away from your lips.

“If we can even consider this love… you have an odd way of showing it” he lets you go, the cocky smile on his face never leaving.

“Love or not… you are going to be mine”

“I’m also the heiress of the Emperor. We’ll see about that, Geta.” You spit bitterly, literally running away from him.

You have converted into an enemy for him. And you had to be ready to walk cautiously. Because you had changed your mind. Perhaps you would lose the crown… but weren’t going to marry him.

…

You missed dates so badly, but then the following morning, when a plate of them was included in the morning, you couldn’t resist. You are eating alone. Until the doors open and your father appears followed by two guards.

“Father…” you stand up, making a reverence to him. He smiles, extending his arms to hug you.

“I have wonderful news. We’ve arranged an encounter for you to demonstrate your abilities in combat” You are extremely confused.

“What?” Your father sighs, breaking the hug.

“I’m aware you performed in celebrations back in Alexandria. This is just the perfect opportunity to show the senate and council you are a prepared lady to receive the title of Empress one day…”

“Father… as much as I appreciate the intention. I’ve performed as a way to train for battle; gods forbid us from having to go to war, but… here, your soldiers and slaves fight for the mere feeling of feeding the greediness of hierarchy. I can’t do that…”

You weren’t a target for the empire to show off. You were more than just a woman with the ability to carry a weapon. You valued your freedom. And ever since arriving in Rome, day by day, you feel that you keep slipping away from it.

“The decision is taken. Heavens know why but the official announcement of your engagement with Geta remains being delayed. Hence, I won’t turn the Senate and council against me when there's no need. I may only wish you good luck, dear” You remember Marcus. He could have voted against the encounter. He was the General.

Suddenly you are bursting in anger, making the coldest reverence to your father as he leaves.

Your angry steps lead your way to Marcus. You found him taking a rest on a nearby balcony. When he spots you, his smile vanishes.

“You couldn’t impede that brainless idea of me participating in a combat?” Marcus has to sigh, placing his hands on his hips. He was expecting your anger to be honest.

“I couldn’t say no. If it did, they would suspect. I already have your brother behind my back all the time” You can fight him because he’s right. But it doesn’t dissipate your anger.

“You are going to be fine. I may be able to arrange the rules. I can choose the gladiator that will fight you, but your father and brother have the last word. What weapon do you want to use?”

“The spear…” he nods.

“Female gladiators tend to wield the bow and sword. You can easily disarm her…” you are not scared, you are just frustrated.

“Teach me the methods warriors use here…” you mutter. Marcus nods, taking your hand and giving an apologetic look.

“You will win, my dear.” His fingers place some strands of your hair behind your ear, it melts your anger and transforms it into peace. You want to scream how much you desire him. But you must retain your feelings given the hatred days you were living.

“Let me thank you for the training in advance, General,” you say, getting on your knees.

“Good girl…” Marcus whispered as soon as your tongue started working on him.

…

The usual crowd in the Colosseum couldn’t be compared with the amount of screams and cheers from the people watching the emperor’s daughter fighting one of the greatest female gladiators in Rome; Calista.

The sandy floors were covered in an elegant tapestry that marked the square where the show was occurring.

You are sweating, there's blood running down your chin and you can’t breathe correctly. Calista was ordered not kill you, but for some reason, she seemed to be personally trying to knock you out.

She had a helmet and armor in gold and red. But it was hard to deny everyone was invested in the attire you wore. A golden mask of Neith, the god of war that covered your face and a gold vest and bare shoulders. Everyone thought you were insane for that.

You remember all the things Marcus told you. Soon after your father started the encounter, you learned gladiators were blinded by the necessity of seeing blood on their rival instead of following a technique of combat.

Calista’s sword is sharp enough to give you a long cut by the movement of a soft swatch. You yelp in pain and she kicks your ribs, making you fall to your knees.

Marcus stands worried from his seat, but he soon returns to his place after making eye contact with Geta, who sends daggers with his eyes. Marcus understood your brother was insane when he disapproved of the gladiator he had chosen. Geta picked the most sanguinary and violent warrior to fight you.

Marcus couldn’t do anything. But he was impressed by your skills. He sighed with joy everytime you slipped from Calista’s touch. Even your father was displaying a face of proud.

But it’s not the same for you. You enter in panic, knowing you are at full mercy, almost dropping your spare. Your father is about to stop the encounter. The crowd is impossibly louder. You want to throw up. The sweat mixed with nausea, the cold air of the night, and the dryness in your throat are too much to handle. But you refuse to lose. With the sharp edge of the spare, you cut Calista’s calf. She’s startled, ready to strike back when your leg pushes her on her back. The heavy sword she carries makes a loud noise. Her skull crushes against the floor. It gives you enough time to stand, place your foot in her throat and point the spare against her forehead, ending the encounter.

The cheers are disgustingly excessive. But you’re done. You did what your father asked. You take off the mask and look at your brother in anger. Geta offers you a fake smile. He was surprised to see you were able to slip away, from his evil plans, from defying your father.

You offer your hand to Calista, but she refuses. She looks like she wants to kill you. But she only reverences your family and leaves.

Everything is forgotten when you set your eyes on Marcus. You want to smile and run to his side. He sees you with adoration. He sees the reincarnation of Psyche in you. A woman who Marcus swears it’s even more graceful than Venus and Persephone themselves.

Marcus Acacius makes a decision; He must marry you.

…

After a banquet, your bones and muscles ache with each movement you make, but you run towards Marcus. You need to see him after such a long day. He waits for you in the secure spot of the farthest tower. His light robes and leaf crown are securely dressing him when you spot him. The gold in his attire matches your bronze bracelets and indigo dress.

He’s the man you desire. He’s the man that had offered you a real demonstration of affection. He wasn’t trying to manhandle you like everyone before did. It’s more than enough to make you think your prayers to Venus have worked. You collide in his chest, giggling.

“I love you”

Both of you say at the same time. It leaves you shocked. Marcus smiles and you have to kiss him to believe it’s real.

“I promise you… we’ll be together” you nod dying out of happiness. He kisses you back and you feel you want to cry out of happiness.

What feels like a second was an hour of kissing.

And Geta was able to witness some of that time. Drowning in a monstrous wave of jealousy, he ran towards the Emperor to accuse you of adultery. But it was too late, your father was out of the city for the rest of the day. Geta is beyond enraged with the news. So he sends part of his father’s cabinet to a brothel, hoping his evil plan would work.

Later, when he finds you going towards the garden, he fastens his pace to harshly grab your forearms and stop you.

“That General is no good for you.” He spits with disgust as you squirm away from his touch.

“Neither are you” you fireback, stepping backwards.

“Go find him. You should know he just uses you to have our father’s approval. So I insist you, go find him and see what kind of man he is after you leave his bed” You raise your hand ready to slap him, but you don’t. You simply turn away and keep walking.

Geta’s words echo through your mind. You question him, valuing the honesty of his words. Marcus was a man after all. There wasn’t a perfect man nor a perfect woman, but you liked to believe there was still good in the hearts of the people.

Perhaps Marcus would be disappointed by your mistrust. But the uncertainty of his loyalty was something you couldn’t risk.

That night, you go out in a linen cloak, hunting the man you love. The guards won’t know you went out prowling around the city.

It’s late, but not for the city. Although is not crowded, there are a lot of people in the market. You let yourself wander across the place. There’s handmade stuff that women and kids sell. It makes you think about power and how not all of the people had it. If you ever became Empress, you wanted to see a prosperous and bright city. You want to ensure them with security and peace. You want to get rid of eccentric stuff, including gladiators.

The sound of music along with laughter draws your attention to a specific place. At first glance, you think it’s a tavern. But as your feet made it to the entrance, you gasped in shock. There are more men compared to women. The females are scattered around the place. Some feed grapes to men. Others dance and use their bodies to charm. All of them have their chests bare, showing their breasts and silver bracelets. It shocks you to see some of the females naked, kissing between groups of four or more and almost fucking them at the sight of everyone. The wine smells cheap, the whole place smells like sweat and sex combined.

You see from afar a large table of men. Your eyes look at the head of the table and it causes a great mix of confusion and intrigue. Because it’s your Marcus who’s seated with those men. He talks and looks seriously intimidating with his sword resting on the table. Your heart starts racing as a woman gets closer. She raises her hand to touch him. Marcus turns to look at the woman. She has short blonde hair, pale skin, and purple fabric that barely covers her body. Your eyes water at the sight. Your lover, who promised find the way to be with you hours ago is there, surrounded by naked women and you can hear him cursing. When the blonde woman is about to sit in his lap, you leave the place running away. There’s not even time to tear yet, you are completely covered in shock and disgust.

Soon you are back. You gasp for air, opening the doors of the place you call home. Two guards let you enter and you throw your cloak to the floor. When you look at the end of the long hallway, you spot Geta talking with his counselor. At the sigh of you, he indicates the man to leave. You want to leave him behind so bad, you avoid his eyes but it’s his voice that stops you.

“I told you so…” he says with an evil smile.

“Be quiet…” his laugh is loud and it angers you more.

“He doesn’t care about you. Acaius only cares for power. He could never love you-“

“SILENCE!”

You push him towards the granite bench behind and he is taken aback.

Even more when you lean to smash your lips with his.

It’s disgusting. There’s no care, only two individuals fighting for control in the lips of each other. Even the beetroot juice you applied hours ago has transferred to your chin and Geta’s. His hand is resting with pressure on your nape, and you slightly pull his hair, making him groan before kissing you even harder.

Just when you are about to sit in his lap, you stop. You look at him in horror. There’s no way you just kissed him. That you almost succumbed to his touch. But you remember Marcus with that woman. What were you doing?

Geta sees you quietly crying before standing up from the bench and watching you bolt.

You run to the meadows. The place where everything began. And at that moment, you realized you had completely failed.

Fighting in that encounter with Calista for what? Unnecessary approval of men who would surely die before you birthed your first child.

You pleased your father to live in peace for what? To carry the weight of a narcissistic brother and a traitor lover.

Your prayers were in vain. The love you wanted to find was over before it even started. Because it wasn’t real. You should’ve stayed back in Egypt. Maybe you should have married Geta on the first day. At least whatever he did to hurt you would have a payback. But with Marcus, it resulted in an excruciating pain that you had never felt before. Which makes you feel so ignorant and brainless. All that ego your mother had helped you build collapsed at that moment. You just wished for a remedy. Which for sure didn’t exist. But there must be a way, to make everyone feel at least a drop of what you have.

—————————————————————

part two or what? (Literally didn’t add the part I wrote for the sneak peak lol)

taglist: @drewharrisonwriter @my-dearest-agent @yellowheartz @spookyxsam @natasharomanoffsmotorcycle @uncassettodiricordi @kluvspedritooo @littleblackcatinwonderland

[wheneclipsefalls]

Grovel: Part 1

Pairing: Aged Up Lo'ak x Fem Omatikaya Reader

Summary: Lo'ak broke your heart all those years ago. If he plans to woo you once more it is going to take a lot more than a debonair grin.

Warnings: angst, aged up Lo'ak, future NSFW, broken hearts, cheating, swearing, etc.

A/N: I wrote the majority of this in a couple hours so.....it's rough.

You prayed to Eywa it would fit. Getting Lo’ak’s measurements without him becoming suspicious had been a job in and of itself, but now it was sure to pay off. With your relationship being kept on the down low there were truly only a few ways you could publicly show your affection for the youngest Sully brother. Creating this arm band for him had been a delight and had set butterflies off in your stomach. 

There was something about the notion of forbidden love that had your heart racing at every moment the two of you stole together. It was new and exciting but even more than that it was a risk that made you feel alive. 

It was hard to believe that the two of you had gone from lifelong frenemies to lovers in only a few months. Of course the greatest level of intimacy you had shared were a few tender kisses and snuggling embraces. Lo’ak had  been your first kiss, sweeping you off your feet until every other ignorant young male had paled in comparison. 

Since then there had been no hope for your young heart to resist. It was everything and more that you had dreamed of since you were a child hearing of your parent’s own love story. Love had been found in the most unexpected of people but it was true. You could no longer deny how hard and fast you had fallen for the male. And tonight you were finally going to tell him. 

With a courting gift worthy for the mightiest of warriors your love would be proclaimed and hopefully his own would be there to reciprocate. 

A jittering tingle raced down your arms and legs, pushing you to run faster through the forest. It was a miracle you didn’t throw up from the motion after the way your own nerves had tied your stomach into knots. However, running gave your pent up energy somewhere to go and now more than ever you needed a release. Lo’ak didn’t know the two of you were meeting today.

That’s what made it all the better.

A perfect surprise the trickster himself would never see coming. 

He would be under the Tree of Souls as he always was in the afternoons, the place where he claimed to have his best thoughts. Someday he would surely tell you what those thoughts were but today you prayed his mind would be full of you. Just the way the bastard always managed to cram himself into every nook and cranny of your mind. It seemed only fair that he suffered the same. 

Light still prevailed but new colors painted the sky as Eclipse came inched closer.The tendrils of Vitraya Ramunong were already beginning to shimmer from where they hung. 

Your cheeks hurt from smiling when you spotted his slim form, even as your own knees trembled with anticipation. 

Just play it cool, you reminded yourself. There was no reason to worry so long as you managed to get out three little words. The intricate beads of the arm band started to create imprints in your palm from how tight you held it. 

One last steadying breath before you scaled down the tree trunk. A giggle almost escaped your throat when you had the brilliant idea to sneak up on him. Last week he had given you quite the scare while you were weaving a basket. Now would be the perfect time for payback.

“It’s so beautiful!”

Your feet scraped against the bark into a halt. 

“I told you this is the best time to come here.” Lo’ak responded and he wasn’t alone. From this new vantage point you could now see a smaller female figure behind him, her eyes casted upwards at the enchanting view of the Tree of Soul’s increasing glow. 

“Yes but I thought that was only your way of getting me alone.” Those long lashes fluttered back at him, a playful smile sweeping over her lips. Lo’ak shrugged, an ever familiar smirk lacing his own. 

“So what if it was? I didn’t see you putting up much of a fight.” 

“The best predators know the importance of giving their prey a false sense of security.” Her eyes danced with a maturity so beyond her years it was almost vulgar. Lo’ak’s tail whipped back and forth, eating up every taunting seduction from the palm of her hand. 

“Well I only let the prettiest girls catch me in their webs.” 

The distance was closed between them with only a few steps before she was reaching up on her toes and dragging him into a sinful kiss. One oh so different from the type you two had shared. A sensual kiss that you had only heard of but never experienced. And that was one thing you could tell from this other female, she wielded so much more power and experience than you ever could. 

Still that wasn’t what mattered because when they finally pulled apart for gasps of air it was sweet promises of affection and future mating that poured from Lo’ak’s lips. 

The same vows that had been clutching your heart over the past few months.

The same lullabies that filled your dreams with fantasies of your lives together. 

Today, they sang for her instead. 

You were foolish to think they ever belonged to you, nothing more than a beautiful mirage your first love had woven to snatch you up. 

A small sob alerted them to your presence. Eyes wide you only stared back at him for a moment before bolting to the trees.

The crafted armband abandoned on the ground. 

Lo’ak had always been a pain in the ass. There was no better way to describe him. Not when he was your childhood nuisance turned to first love to then first heartbreak. The day his family left for Awa'atlu you tried to stay strong. At that point things had already been ruined between you. His player nature had been exposed and the male had only a week of trying to explain himself before the incident happened and the Sully family left the Omatikaya for good. 

Or at least, what you thought was for good. 

Their return had been something that many had hoped for but one that you had never allowed yourself to believe. Even when you were still in the mourning stages of your relationship and their disappearance you had fortified one single idea in your mind. Lo’ak leaving was for the best. It would allow you to move on.

And so you had. Taking much longer than you would have liked but slowly your hammock dried of tears and you began to focus on other things outside of the youngest Sully boy. Your foolish young heart had grown strong in wisdom and might. Your skills as a healer had become more polished with every day you spent under Mo’at’s instruction. Adulthood came and fell upon you in a way that suited your new talents and attitude. Not a day passed where you weren’t seeking to support the clan and People in one way or another. 

Tarsem was a wonderful Olo’eyktan. He led the People with the necessary vision and courage it took to keep the Sky People out of your lands. Some days came with great losses, exposing you to more curious injuries by their machines than you could have imagined in the healer’s tent. However, those days you took with pride too. The Omatikaya never lost heart. They never gave up on protecting their home. 

You weren’t the only ones either. Stories of battling demon ships traveled overseas, ingraining the memory of mighty Metkayina defending their lands and conquering against all odds. Each time those stories found their way to the fire’s circle you had tried not to envision Lo’ak’s part in all of it. Some days were easier than others. And yet some you couldn’t shake the visual of the warrior that you patched up in front of you being a certain Sully boy and not another Omatikaya warrior. It frustrated you to no end the lengths of your care for him but over time you made peace with the fact that his death was never announced.

And that was good enough.

Because that fact was the only one he had deserved for you to care about and nothing more.  

It had taken years, the battle shaping so much of your shift from adolescence into adulthood. When all was said and done, however, the Sky People burned the forest with their demon ships one last time and then they too became nothing more than a star in the night sky. A celebration unlike any other had immediately gone underway. Your older sister, Talu, could hardly breathe with how many beaded and feathered tops she had been commissioned to construct for various men and women in the clan. 

Your own work had graciously slowed down and for the first time since perhaps the day those demons invaded Pandora, you relaxed. 

Peace was not yours to be had, however. 

You had been halfway through washing in the hot springs when the news had come. The Sully family was set to return by the night of the celebration. And not to visit but to reclaim the throne and be herded back as one of the Omatikaya once more and forever. The shrieking females that had run to tell their other friends didn’t seem to notice when you accidentally swallowed and choked on a mouthful of spring water. 

They were too busy hypothesizing what the Sully brothers would look like now. Some even made bets on whether or not they would be returning home unmated. The conversation had been the opposite of peace, prompting you to sneak away and have your panic attack in the privacy of your own home. 

“Will you stop squirming for one minute?” Talu reprimanded but an amused giggle laced her voice. 

“Ma Talu, please tell me you are almost done.” Another pearl was carefully strung through your long wavy hair. 

“Art takes time.” She smiled softly. “And that’s what you are. A magnificent piece of art.” 

Talu had not necessarily been wrong in her statement. After the countless hours she had put into constructing your curved top out of rare gems and strung your hair with bioluminescent pearls, you had transformed into something of ethereal beauty. And yet, the last thing you wanted was to stand out. What had started as a celebration to be anticipated had for you turned into a nightmare just waiting to happen. 

Eywa had given you three days to prepare for tonight. Three whole days where you had solidified your resolve and reminded yourself that Lo’ak Sully was no longer anyone but another clan member to you. You were going to be cordial and respectful like you would another clan brother but no flicker of even remembering your past with him. Not a single mention of how he had shattered your young heart into a million pieces and left you there to weave it back together for years. 

The old you was dead and with that so was your relation to him. 

It still didn’t ease your dread however. As Na’vi of all ages gathered around hometree and looked to the skies, you had scrambled to look for an excuse to be elsewhere. The air buzzed with excitement and every yip and call in anticipation felt like the chiming of a clock to you. One second closer to facing a part of your past you had buried too deep. 

Talu had been immersed in the excitement with everyone else. You had never told her of Lo’ak’s betrayal. Even on the night you found him kissing another girl under Vitraya Ramunong you had fled to cry alone in the woods. Truth be told you had never even told her of the relationship in the first place. It had been something of a secret between the two of you and one that Lo’ak had insisted upon. Of course the truth of why that was important to him had eventually come to light. 

Talu yelled and jumped with the others as the far ikrans dotted the horizon. Perhaps she would ask where you had wandered off to later but you had time to think of an excuse. No one had even noticed your absence as you seeked refuge in the depths of Eywa’s forest. The clan had burst into such a ruckus that it took a good distance to turn that shrieking into a distant rumble. 

You had escaped in just the knick of time. 

The small glowing river fish had swirled around the branch you glided through the water for what felt like hours. It was calming, spending time with creatures that knew nothing of your demise. Still, you couldn’t hide forever. Talu was sure to be looking for you and it was customary to take part in clan events, especially ones as momentous as this. 

So many years had already passed and your growth had been profound. Lo’ak had no right to make you scatter and hide like a timid prey. Besides, he most likely would not remember you in the first place. So with that perspective he did not deserve to be remembered either. 

Na’vi of all ages bounded and danced with such fervent zeal it could only be described as instinctual. Joy radiated from every pore and each movement was honored as another prayer of gratitude to the Great Mother. Naer [Alcohol] of the finest quality was freely passed and taken until laughter bounced from the trees. Of course the most elaborate and breathtaking attire was worn by clan members, especially those who remained unmated. 

Surely post war would be a time for many such pairings to come about and furthermore the ideal moment to start a family. 

You shook your head at the thought. It was a charming idea and you had been with more than your fair share of men intimately since reaching maturity but now was not the right time for you. Even then, the right male had not deigned to present himself yet. 

Color drained from your cheeks when you finally spotted Talu. Her eyes sparkled with happiness in the moonlight and cheeks ached from smiling so much but she was not alone. A tall figure faced her, leaned against a tree trunk with crossed ankles. Immediately you recognized the specific pattern of jagged stripes that covered his skin. 

However, that was perhaps the only thing you recognized from Lo’ak. He had grown. Grown oh so much and you knew he would have, but not like this. Somehow a part of you had still expected the same beanpole of a fourteen year old to show up. Now…Lo’ak had grown in stature in a way that only a Metkayina could. His build was accentuated with thick biceps and broad shoulders that only further brought out the contrast of his tapered waist. 

It was as if your eyes were playing tricks on you, searching to find where that lanky boy had gone to leave behind this sculpted male. 

His skin was different too. Those stripes you had come to adore during adolescence had now been joined by dark ink. Curious designs lined his side before traveling into swirling patterns that danced over his hips and even outer thighs. Squinting in the fire’s light you could just make out how that ink traveled straight to the band of his loincloth before slipping under. 

No.

Nope. 

That was dangerous territory and simply none of your business. 

Trying to distract your over curious brain you find yourself observing his hair instead. Those two signature braids still hung over his forehead but they were adorned with various objects and shells that you did not recognize. Even more surprising, his decorated braids were tied together as a top knot. It brought out the shape of his jawline and cheekbones, chiseled until they could cut like a knife. 

Life was unfair. If you didn’t know it before you surely knew it now because how else could this traitor grow to be so impeccably handsome? Such an enchanting mix of two cultures swirled into one male at his prime. 

Your teeth grinding was cut short by a firm hand around your bicep.

“Come, child.” Mo’at sternly directed. She didn’t offer an explanation as you were led to the front of the celebration but you knew better than to ask for one. 

Mo’at lined up every healer in front of the ravenous crowd. All it took was one hand in the air to silence the commotion. All eyes turned to their Tsahik. 

“My People,” She called in a boisterous voice. “We gather together tonight in thanks of our Great Mother. By her will, we have prevailed as a People with strong hearts. By her mercy, the balance of life has been restored.” The crowd broke out into a chorus of calls and yips that rumbled the forest. 

“In gratitude we must not grow weary. Our hearts forever imprinted with the memory of what has been sacrificed. To this I call upon you to look at your brothers and sisters and rejoice! See all that they have given.” The yelling increased tenfold and you swallowed that lump in your throat. You are not about to cry in front of the entire clan. 

“I thank those especially who stand before us.” The focus shifted to fall upon you and the other handful of healers to your left and right. Even with the attention born between the group of you, it still weighed heavy. “Those who have stitched our wounds and lightened our sorrows. As Eywa herself has taught us, there is nothing that can not be mended by gentle hands.” 

Mo’at stood now between you and another healer, one hand placed on her shoulder and the other on yours. As the cheers bellowed into the sky, you caught a glimpse of Talu pointing you out as Lo’ak leaned forward. She said something you could neither understand nor wanted to know. Gaze forced away by pure will, you barely escaped seeing when Lo’ak’s gaze finally pinned you down. 

It didn’t matter, though.

Not when those golden orbs burned like liquid fire through your veins.

There were so many people you could occupy your time with. At this point you were willing to talk to Neteyam if it meant avoiding his younger brother. Pushing through the crowd was more difficult than you anticipated but you prayed that it would be enough to keep Talu and her new friend at bay too. 

“Ma Neteyam,” You hastily greeted, signing ‘I see you’ as he turned to face you. It was a miracle you had even been able to recognize the eldest Sully in the first place with his new tattoos and metkayina clothing. 

“Ma Y/N.” Although surprised, he returned the gesture with a polite smile. “You look well, sister.” 

His voice was so much lower than you remembered. 

“As do you.” An awkward silence threatened to settle between you and if you wanted to ward off potential advances you needed this to appear as enthralling as possible. “That is a charming necklace. What is it made of?” Your dainty fingers shakily came to thumb over the obscure object. To Neteyam’s credit, he only barely flinched at your unexpected touch. 

“A special sea glass from Awa’atlu. Some beaches are littered with them.” 

“Wow, that is fascinating.” It wasn’t. Any other day it might have been but you couldn’t focus enough to appreciate it fully. 

“That little piece is truly nothing once you’ve seen the whole beach.” This voice rumbled at your back, just close enough to feel his body heat prickle your skin. Your composure was not easily won over but it was forced into place just as you were forced to finally face him.

“Sister, we have been looking all over for you. Such a busy body.” Talu nervously laughed but one look told you that she knew about your earlier ditching of festivities. 

“Y/N.” Lo’ak gave you the same gesture of respect, voice gravely and low in a way that had chills racing up your spine. His eyes made contact with your own  for only a second as you returned the polite formalities, eyes shifting to his right shoulder as to feign looking at him properly. 

“Lo’ak.” It came out snippier than you intended, evident in the way his eyebrows turned down at the edges. 

“I apologize for my absence. I was…caught up.” Lo’ak’s tail flickered at the last part but a charming grin still stretched across his lips. Stepping out of his line of fire you divulged a distraction by initiating Talu and Neteyam’s greetings. This way you were able to take some much needed steps away from Lo’ak and focus primarily on the other members present. 

Neteyam and Talu filled the conversation easily, only requiring a few additions from you upon occasion. Even when it waned into subjects you were far from interested in, your body remained braced and alert as if you were swallowing every word said. The perfect defense against meeting Lo’ak’s gaze again. Even a protection against drooling over his muscular physique that had surely been carved by Eywa. 

“Well I shouldn’t leave my sister.” That snapped you out of your daze immediately. 

“She can dance with Lo’ak.” Neteyam smiled, as if he hadn’t just granted your worst nightmare come true. And to him he hadn’t because when you stuttered to find a response that reaction was only seen as adorable nerves. One that Lo’ak quickly stepped in to charm away. 

“Do not worry, tanhi. I’ve learned to not trip over my feet now.” And he grinned. That bastard had the audacity to jest and tease like the two of you had been old friends. Talu sent you a pleading look, one that said you would never hear the end of this if you didn’t play a good wingwoman right now. There was little that could be done about it now as he led you into the crowd. 

Lo’ak was true to his word. He had become quite the dancer, enough so that your own actions could easily follow his lead. When your hands occasionally brushed you tried to sweep them away as soon as possible. 

“You’ve grown.” 

“What?” You shouted back over the banging drums and he laughed in response.

“I said you have grown up, tanhi. Can’t believe it.” His fangs peeked out as he grinned, so carefree and genuine it sent your mind racing. Who the hell did he think he was?

“Well that happens.” You answered shortly, strategically choosing now to swerve into a spin. Anything to avoid his gleeful expression. 

“I mean yes of course but I just didn’t think it was possible for you to become even more beautiful.” 

The spin grinded to a halt. Lo’ak stopped dancing too but where his expression flitted with flirtatious amusement your own was nothing but pure ice. It cut through him until that smirk was wavering. 

“Are you fucking serious?!” The heaving drumming was a welcomed source of privacy, distracting the others from your rage. Everyone besides Lo’ak, whose brows knitted before letting out a short laugh. 

“Um yes? I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it.” 

“Oh I wouldn’t put it past you.” Bitter and harsh like the look in your eyes, Lo’ak was taken aback. 

You didn’t give him time to recover, however as you slipped past the other dancing Na’vi. Lo’ak caught up easily, long legs keeping him right on your heels. 

“Woah woah hey, y/n. Where are you going?” 

“Away from you. I don’t have time for this.” 

He caught your arm when the two of you had just reached the outskirts of the celebration. Hois hand was slapped away but that didn't stop him from blocking your escape. 

“Time for what? I’ve just missed you is all.” 

“Missed me?” His words were so infuriating that you found your own sputtering to form sentences. Was it possible he suffered a brain condition? Memory loss? How else could he stand before you now and pretend that the last note the two of you had left off on had not been him shattering your heart. “You….” Another steadying deep breath in. “You think that after what you put me through that you could come back in and sweep me up for a hook up?”

Lo’ak shuffled backwards slightly, away from your accusing finger. 

“Tha-”

“Or maybe you have already forgotten what happened. I’m sure it would be easier to ignore how you acted like the clan’s whore while spewing promises to me.” 

His jaw dropped, all evidence of that confidence swept away.

“Well in case you’ve forgotten, you’ve already screwed over this girl so cross me off your list.” 

It seemed that his brain was lagging because this time when you shuffled around him you weren’t immediately cut off. Still, it appeared he had maintained his forest legs because he didn’t struggle to make up for lost ground. 

“Y/n, I didn’t….” He sighed through his nose. “It’s just that….that was so long ago. I didn’t even know how much of that you remembered.” 

“Excuse me?” You wheeled back on him, taking secret pleasure in the way Lo’ak did in fact trip over his feet this time. He recovered quickly but there was a frazzled energy to his movements. 

“No, no! Shit I…. that came out wrong.”

You save him the trouble of trying to string together an explanation. It was worth neither of your times not to mention how silly you felt for bringing it up in the first place. What did it matter after all these years? Nothing. That is what you had always told yourself and his appearance was not going to change that. 

“Lo’ak, mawey. You’re right it was a long time ago so let’s just put it behind us and make one thing clear.” His ears perked, eyes rounded as it appeared the very breath in his lungs became stagnant. “We are not friends. I’m happy for you and your family but only in the way everyone else is happy for your return. You stay in your lane and I will stay in mine. That way, everyone is happy.” 

“Not everyone.” He murmured, ears pressed flat against his braids. 

There was a flicker of hope present in his eyes, as if waiting for you to spontaneously forget the past and welcome him with open arms. You hoped your speedy exit was enough to blow that flame out.

This is my random little story I've been working on to keep my mind off the break up. If you like it, please let me know and I will continue to work on and post the next parts:)

unofficial tag list: @pandoraslxna @pandoraslovesworld @faintfill @rivatar @neteyamssyulang

[welikeimagines-andfandoms]

Training- Legolas x Hobbit!Reader

Summary: Legolas comes to help reader with sword training and some heated confessions are made.

Word count: 1, 662

A/N: I requested this story to @intoxicated-chan a while ago because I wasn’t sure if I’d ever write it but now I have, so if you like my version then definitely read theirs here

The forest clearing was still as you snuck away from the group to practise. While Boromir was training Merry and Pippin, he had joked that you don’t need training, as you were vicious enough with your knife.

You wanted to be brave and tough, to do your part in the fellowship, but living in the Shire you had not had much experience with fighting. A little dagger you had once bought and sometimes kept on you being the only weapon at your disposal felt a little pathetic.

Aragorn had seen your disdain at the comment and had handed you one of his smaller swords and told you of this clearing.

“Take this, there’s a little clearing just past those woods. Remember your stance and fluid movement. Be back before the sun is low and come back if there’s trouble.” He had quietly encouraged you with a fatherly smile and a nod of his head.

Now you stood in the field, trying to remember what you had briefly seen Boromir teach your friends, as you heard someone approach from behind. Swinging your borrowed sword viciously, but gracelessly, you saw it was only Legolas.

“I’m so sorry for disturbing your training, shield maiden of the Shire. I only worry that one so lovely and vicious might just be taken from me.” Legolas jokingly smirked down at you.

Since the beginning of this journey, Legolas had often liked to joke and compliment you. If he had been a fellow hobbit you might believe he was flirting, but he was an elf prince and you couldn’t believe such things, even if you did want them to be true.

Though he was not handsome in the way male hobbits are, he had a different kind of beauty. Where male hobbits beauty comes from their actions and the way they can make you laugh, Legolas’ simple came from who he was. Legolas is beautiful like how a flower is, it needn’t do anything but sway and bloom and the beauty is there.

You couldn’t stare at him for long, and you tried not to show how his words affected you. Being a hobbit on this journey you already had to prove yourself enough, but being a woman made it even more difficult. Your brother, Samwise, could get by because he was kind and had a confidence in his own right, but you felt you had to try hard to be taken seriously.

“I’m only trying to earn my place among you all, there is no need to make fun.” You stood up for yourself, trying to sound more brave and strong, and less like a whining child.

It seems your attempts at strength worked as Legolas was taken aback.

“Forgive me, I did not mean to offend you. I had only come to see if I could aid you with your training. I do not jest when I say that you have a warrior spirit, it could just do with some refining is all.” Legolas gently explained with a sweet and kind smile.

“What would an elf know of swordsmanship? I thought your kind were archers.” You asked him, still on the defence.

Legolas smirked down at you as he began to step closer, now barely an arms length from you.

“My people have many skills, little warrior,” he began to explain as he was now crouching before you, “don’t forget I am not as young as I seem and as a prince I have had more training then just archery.” He teases back as he flicks your nose cutely.

“Well what kind of refining do I need, Mr. Fancy Elvish Prince.” You tease back, taking a bit of his braid from behind his ear and flicking it, as he had flicked your nose.

His lovely face shone as he sweetly laughed at your returned gesture.

“Well how about we start with stance, little warrior.” He smiled warmly at you as he tucked a piece of hair behind your ear, his fingers lingers ever so slightly on your cheek.

Feeling his finger lightly brush your cheek had your eyes fluttering, but luckily you were quick to recover as you turned to show your stance.

Remembering what you had heard from Boromirs training, and seen in the fights you had encountered thus far, you held your stance as best you could.

“Not bad, but just remember,” suddenly you felt Legolas’ delicate but strong fingers on your waist, “your hips need to be facing towards your enemy.” You hotly whisper in your ear, making you shudder with need.

Though he had adjusted your stance, his hands did not leave your body, in fact he adjusted his position to hold you closer. He was now knelt on one knee as his other leg was bent beside you, and his front was pushed more into your back as his hands slid down to your hip.

Your sword was becoming heavy, but even as you dropped it, he didn’t seem to mind, in fact it just made his touches more eager and bold.

Now holding your hips, he pushed you back into himself and you could feel how excited this was making him, as his hardness pushed against your back.

“You are so beautiful, y/n, I just can’t help but need to touch you. Please tell me if this makes you uncomfortable.” He gently whispered in your ear.

Even as you could feel his need pulsing through him, he was still so gentle and sweet.

Turning your body in his grip slightly to face him, your small hands run against his cheek and into his soft hair.

“Don’t stop, Legolas.” You softly spoke as you hold onto his hair, pushing him closer to you.

At hearing your approval, he can’t help but let out a growl as he pushes you into the soft grass below with a passionate kiss. Your grip on his hair tightens as he lowers your body and his hovers above your.

With one hand beside your head to keep his body from pressing too hard against yours, his other gently runs up and down your form. His sweet touch beginning at your neck, down your breast, your waist, your hip, your legs and back again.

His touch on your body was delicate and sweet but his kiss was another but. His kisses were dominant and desperate as his mouth devoured yours. As he deepened the kiss and his tongue slipped into your mouth, you tugged on his hair even tighter, a muffled moan being heard from both of you.

His lips broke from yours and his grip tightened against your thigh as his head pulled back with a moan. Looking down on you, his gaze was animalistic and you could see how the kiss was affecting him from the tent in his trousers.

Growling once again, he bent down as he pressed open mouthed kisses across your neck and chest, making sweet moans and whimpers pass through your parted lips.

“You have no idea how badly I’ve wanted you, little one. I try to be good and respectful of one so sweet but you make my body become obsessed.” He confesses as he kisses along your chest.

Raising his head, there is a serious look in his eye as he gazes at you.

“I can not stand to have another near you. When Boromir carried you the other day, I felt a jealousy I had never felt before. I want you to be mine and me be yours.” He continued his confession, his touch now much more gentle as he sweetly caressed your face.

Hearing this makes you realise that all his comments and jokes truly were flirting, and that you weren’t just imagining it. While you want to live in and embrace this moment, you can’t help but feel a self consciousness creep through your mind.

Your hand once in his hair now comes down to play with the ties of your shirt as you begin to worry.

“Legolas, you’re an elvish prince and I’m just a hobbit from the Shire. I would love nothing more than to be with you, but it’s not right.” You explain as you begin to feel tears fill your eyes.

Your tears do not have a chance to drop however, as Legolas wipes them away and lifts your head. Looking up into his eyes, you see nothing but love and compassion.

“I am not bound by anything that means I can not care for you. I am my own being and if my heart has chosen you and if you will have me, then it is you I want,” gently he lifts you to sit in his lap as he continues to explain, “you have captured my heart in a way I can not explain and I want you in every way there is to want another. Please do not push me away because of our differences.” He sweetly reassures you, his lips coming to gently press against yours.

When he pulls back from the gentle kiss, his head is still pressed against yours.

“If you promise to kiss and touch me like that again, I am yours.” You cheekily assure him.

A light chuckle leaves his lips as his smile grows.

“Oh believe me, little warrior, I intend to do much more than just kiss and touch you like that.” He assures as he stares hungrily at you.

“And though I wish to take you right on this forest floor without a care in the world, I think we unfortunately need to head back.”

Looking away from his gorgeous eyes, you realise how low the sun was truly getting. Before you could think to stand, Legolas is lifting you in his arms, causing a small gasp to leave your lips.

“I’ll put you back down as we get closer to camp, but I just need to hold you a bit longer.” Legolas tells you, with a sweet kiss to your temple.

[drakorn]

Rewriting Veilguard Part 6 - The Mourn Watchers

Rewriting Veilguard Part 5 - The Antivan Crows

Disclaimer: I don't hate the game, I actually think it's quite great given the development hell Bioware went through in those 10 years. This is more of a hypothetical universe where there was less of that behind the scenes drama. Just a fun writing exercise.

Writing an Origin Story Mission for the Mourn Watchers

Riiiiight, the Mourn Watch. The Mourn Watch, the Mourn Watch…the Mourn Watch…yeeaahhhppp.

So, you see, when I started these rewrites, the two factions I dreaded the most were the Mourn Watch and the Lords of Fortune. And I’m gonna tell you why: Unlike the other four factions, these two don’t actually have any faction-specific stories. Sure, the Mourn Watch has the ghost bosses, and the Lords of Fortune has that one arena, but other than that? What exactly do these factions actually contribute to the story? They introduce Emmrich and Taash, respectively, sure. But that’s all they’re really here for.

While Veilguard definitely provided me with a lot of foundations to start working on the other factions’ origin stories, the Mourn Watch will require me to refer to Rook’s entry blurb alone and come up with something from there. There is no faction-specific villain to set up, no major contribution the Mourn Watch has to the overall story, nothing at all, really. On one hand, I dreaded it. On the other hand, I find myself strangely excited. Here, I can actually make something up from the ground while still trying to stay true to the spirit of the game.

Yeah, I could just take the Johanna Hezenkoss plot and make that the faction story as that’s the closest thing the game has, but nah. I’d like for that to still remain Emmrich’s companion story. I think, I might have something else in store for the Mourn Watch as a whole.

So, without further ado, here’s a potential origin story mission for the Mourn Watchers.

Creating Rook

So, for the fifth time, we press the start button, watch Varric’s introductory narration, and then click on the Mourn Watch background. At this point, anyone watching this hypothetical walkthrough on Twitch or YouTube is probably screaming at the streamer to finally proceed with the actual story. But we gotta see all the potential backgrounds.

Right, so, we are met with the Mourn Watch faction background, and the little blurb says:

“You are a Mourn Watcher. This elite necromantic order explores the mysteries of life and death, and tends to the undead in Nevarra’s sprawling Grand Necropolis. As someone who has lived among the dead your entire life, the gloomy depths are nothing unusual for you. But when the dead begin acting out of place, even the most safest corner of your home becomes treacherous and perilous. Will you uncover the truth behind the hauntings? Or does your path lead to an early grave?”

The last name, Ingellvar, applying to all four races, isn’t that big of a stretch in this one. Everything we need is already graciously provided by the game itself.

At some point in our infant life, we were found in a coffin somewhere in the Necropolis and adopted by necromancers. Well, in this rewrite, we’ll say that the necromancer who found us was a single man named Alberich Ingellvar. And the Necropolis has a bit of its own thing going about races, so that’s more of a secondary thing. The more important backstory factor here is our class:

If Ingellvar is a mage, they’re a direct member of the Mourn Watch, since those are all mages.

If Ingellvar is a warrior or a rogue, they’re a guardian of the dead, in service but not directly part of the Mourn Watch.

For the sake of this playthrough, let us go with a human mage Ingellvar.

NOTE: For the duration of this origin story mission, Rook will be referred to as Ingellvar in dialogue for the exact same reasons as stated in the previous entries. “Rook” simply does not exist yet.

Once we finalise our Ingellvar, we press on the start button again, and Varric continues his narration.

In the opening narration of the Mourn Watch background, we get to hear the overall inciting situation: The Grand Necropolis, located just outside of Nevarra City, bordering the Silent Plains, is currently in a bit of a messy situation. Multiple undead strangely go rogue and attack their supervising necromancers, disturbing the overall flow of the facility. Their attacks have grown increasingly bold over the last few months. The necromancers are the last force preventing the undead from reaching the surface. And that’s exactly where Varric hopes to find someone he needs for his own endeavour.

So yeah, you see, the War of the Banners is something mentioned in Rook’s Mourn Watch backstory text in the actual game, but we don’t ever get any proper elaboration on it. I think that’s a perfect set-up for an engaging origin story mission. So let’s see how we do!

The Grand Necropolis

I have to give praise where it’s due: The Grand Necropolis looks amazing in-game. It has that perfect blend between sophistication, eeriness, and Tim Burton-esque weirdness going about it. Hey, I never said I hate DAV! There are quite a few things to be praised about the game we got, and the overall presentation of the Grand Necropolis certainly is one of them.

What I would like to establish, however, is its proper location. Some say, it’s in the heart of Nevarra City, others position it somewhere on the outskirts. A few recent concept artworks from Matt Rhodes show it somewhere in the Silent Plains. So let us implement something and stick with it. In this rewrite, the Grand Necropolis lies just outside Nevarra City, right on the border to the Silent Plains. And that’s not an insignificant position lore-wise, for the Silent Plains are, of course, where Dumat was slain at the end of the First Blight. There are some…interesting implications to be had here, and I will delve into them when the time is right.

Meeting Myrna

We begin our game with Ingellvar entering the Necropolis Halls, where we are expected by Myrna. And right off the bat I’m going to make a small change to Myrna. Well, not really a change, more of an expansion. You see, we never actually get Myrna’s last name in any canon material, so for this rewrite, I’m going to call her Myrna Ingellvar. She is our adoptive sister. It was both a combination of our own efforts and her prestigious position that got us into the ranks of the Mourn Watch, which is, I might remind, the most elite necromancer group around. Obviously, in a non-mage origin, we’re an assistant to the Mourn Watchers, but since we’re playing a mage here, we’re a full-on member.

Myrna greets us and gives her congratulations on us finally making it down here, where all the action against the rising undead takes place. We quickly learn that she’s here to pick us up as we’re both invited to attend a lecture on the restless undead, delivered by none other than Professor Emmrich Volkarin. Not only that, since we’re playing a mage here, we get the added bonus of having been chosen as the professor’s new apprentice. Yeah, the Mourn Watcher background really gives us a lot of good things to start off with. We have…a lot to lose!

Myrna calls upon Audric Felhausen, the undead guardsman we met in Tevinter Nights, to accompany us to the Memorial Gardens, where Emmrich is set to deliver his lecture. We are just needed there a bit earlier since we’re kinda important for it.

Exploring the Necropolis Halls

Before we head to the Memorial Gardens, we have the opportunity to do a quick exploration segment in the Necropolis Halls. Not much is yet revealed here, but we can still have a few nice interactions:

We can talk to Myrna and reminisce about our family. It is revealed that our father is actually dead now. For his long-standing services, he has been granted the rare honour of Lichdom and is now residing somewhere in the deepest parts of the Necropolis. Perhaps we may visit him sometime. Yes, we are part of the Mourn Watch, so…we would know what a Lich is.

We can exchange a few words with Audric where we’re reminded of the fact that he’s actually a spirit possessing Audric’s body. Also a bit of set-up for the future of this mission given that Audric’s story revolved around stopping an undead nobleman possessed by a pride demon. While he’s working at the library nowadays, he’s sometimes still used as a guardsman, especially now.

We find a series of letters between King Markus Pentaghast and Myrna, revolving around dispatching a few Mourn Watchers to the royal palace. A little piece of set-up for later, since King Markus is not what he seems.

We can find another series of letters from a few enraged Pentaghasts demanding to know why King Caspar’s tomb is not accessible until further notice. The Necropolis is simply too dangerous right now.

We can read a final letter from Sidony, a mortalitasi mage previously featured in DAI and Tevinter Nights, now a member of the Mourn Watch herself, informing Myrna of the arrival of someone they had previously discussed.

The Professor

Once we’re done, we signal Myrna that it’s time for us to go. We then get a short but sweet cutscene showing the Ingellvars and Audric travelling through the silent halls and passages of the Necropolis, always on guard. But so far, nothing is attacking us. Hopefully it stays that way until we get to a larger gathering.

Thankfully, fortune is on our side this time around and we successfully arrive at the Memorial Gardens, where Emmrich Volkarin and his trusty assistant, Manfred the skeleton, already await us.

Emmrich bids us a very warm and polite welcome and greets us as his new personal apprentice in the arts of necromancy. As a first little task together, we are to light the candles of the Memorial Gardens, both to honour the spirits and to respect the dead.

As we go about this business, we can also find two letters addressed to Emmrich lying on a small nearby desk:

One is from Bellara, as the two are in the process of exchanging knowledge from far away. We get a hint of the magic in Arlathan Forest growing wilder and more unpredictable.

The other is from Dorian, who used to be Emmrich’s student in younger years. It is both a pleasant and informative letter as we get a small hint at rising tensions within the Magisterium.

We can also have a short interaction with Manfred in which we first learn from Emmrich that he’s a spirit of Curiosity.

There is still some time before the lecture begins, so Emmrich invites us to a game of chess. It is quite a favourite pastime of his, and he likes to test our strategic thinking and patience.

The chessboard looks fittingly gothic and we begin our game without further ado. It is both a nice conversation with Emmrich as well as a perfect opportunity for us to roleplay Ingellvar’s personality traits. In the end, we succeed at the game by beating Emmrich’s Queen with, you guessed it, our Rook, check-mating the King in the process.

Emmrich congratulates us on a well-played game and definitely wants to play again, but later, for it is now time for the lecture.

Lecture on the Undead

As the Memorial Gardens fill with other Mourn Watchers, students, and a few outside visitors, we stand next to Emmrich in front of a huge brazier of green fire. Without further ado, Emmrich welcomes the gathered lot and begins.

Why exactly are we showing this, you may ask? Well, Emmrich is an esteemed professor and scholar, so I think it’s only fitting to show him actually being a professor. And Ingellvar as his apprentice gives us ample opportunity to roleplay our character as someone who is either still learning or very knowledgeable already.

In this playthrough, we have a desire to impress our teacher, so we take all chances we get to contribute to the lecture, something that greatly pleases Emmrich. We deliver a lecture on the nature of the undead, possessed corpses, spirits, the Veil, and how to best respect all. But we also inform the people of the current dangers in the Necropolis, that something is disturbing the spirits here, causing them to occasionally lash out and rebel.

As if on cue, the Memorial Gardens are suddenly swarmed with skeletal warriors, intent on slaying everyone they see. Well, Emmrich didn’t expect such a lively demonstration of what we just discussed.

Together with Emmrich and Myrna we fight against the undead, while Manfred and Audric are ordered to stay out of it given their own spiritual status. The fight isn’t particularly long or hard, but we are tested. In a particularly dicey moment, we are suddenly aided by the rapid firing of a crossbow, look to the side, and see none other than Varric Tethras!

An Old Friend

Once the last of the undead are dealt with, Varric introduces himself to us. Emmrich and Myrna are already aware of him, and so are we if we choose to be, given that Varric is very well-known in the world. He says that Sidony tipped him off on troubles in the Necropolis. Myrna knows this already as some correspondence was held a few days ago.

Varric compliments both our fighting and scholarly skills and offers his assistance in the matter at hand, which we all accept.

As we investigate the slain undead, we notice something quite odd: all the warriors bear the Pentaghast banner. Strange, indeed. Emmrich concludes that we must make our way deeper into the Necropolis posthaste to check up on the Royal Chambers. There seems to be something going on here that we aren’t yet quite aware of.

Given their spiritual existence, Manfred and Audric are told to stay here, as there can be no way of predicting the risks they would find themselves in otherwise.

Deeper into the Necropolis

With Myrna, Emmrich, and Varric, we descend into the deeper parts of the Necropolis, towards the Royal Chambers. This is where the Nevarran kings and queens of the past are all entombed, along with their family members, which, given that we’re talking about the Pentaghasts and Van Markhams, is quite the number.

When we reach the Royal Chambers, we are immediately swarmed by another undead horde, one that we are able to fight off with great difficulty. However, the oddities only increase, for these skeletons bear the Van Markham banner. What is going on here? Why are undead Pentaghasts and Van Markhams trying to attack the living? We knew something was going on, that some corpses began to rise against the living, but this is new.

We must delve further.

The Royal Chambers

When we reach the Royal Chambers, we find the doors unsealed, wide open. Before we enter, a dark figure seemingly materialises out of thin air and approaches us. This is Vorgoth, the oldest of the Mourn Watchers who isn’t a Lich. Nobody really knows who and what they are, but they are benevolent and helpful, so everyone just assumes they are some manner of manifested spirit, and leave it at that.

Vorgoth tells us that a great conflict has escalated between the undead, bidding us to follow him. When we do, we oversee a large clash between undead Pentaghast and Van Markham soldiers. Ultimately, it ends in a stalemate and the forces retreat to their respective wings. This is now absolutely baffling. Well, we all know that the Pentaghasts and Van Markhams are constantly vying for control of the Nevarran throne. But usually this only happens when they’re alive. Why would spirits possessing the dead suddenly wish to re-enact this fight in such a visceral manner?

Since we’re playing a mage, we get a bit of a unique scene now. We’ve been noticing it barely on the edge of our subconsciousness, but now it’s getting clearer: something about the Veil is…different here. We’ve been down here before, but now there is something else in the air…something colder.

We can’t really explain it and neither can the other mages in the party. Emmrich finds this whole situation both alarming and utterly fascinating, and we agree with him. Despite this being incredibly dangerous, we can’t help but feel intrigued. Something is going on down here.

Now we get to make a big choice that will impact the rest of this origin story. The decision is made to split the party. While Ingellvar, Emmrich, and Varric investigate one family mausoleum, Myrna and Vorgoth head for the other. We can choose to:

Investigate the Pentaghast mausoleum. We shall head for the much larger Pentaghast crypts and see if we can find whatever is stirring the undead.

Investigate the Van Markham mausoleum. While not as vast as the Pentaghasts’, we shall still have our fair bit of work to do.

Well, since this particular player here wants to learn more about the Pentaghasts, that’s the choice we’re going with for this playthrough. Myrna and Vorgoth will investigate the Van Markham section. The plan is to meet back here once we’re done. We bid a temporary goodbye to Myrna and Vorgoth and the party splits.

The Pentaghast Mausoleum

Together with Emmrich and Varric, we head off into the Pentaghast Mausoleum and are immediately greeted by another batch of undead warriors we have to fight our way through. But in between the fights, we get to experience some neat dives into Pentaghast lore, as well as some callbacks to DAI:

We see a massive tapestry depicting the entire Pentaghast family tree, all the way from King Caspar to Cassandra, showing just how abnormally gigantic this family is.

We take a look at the rather recent tomb of Vestalus Pentaghast, who was the overseer of the Grand Necropolis until his death two years ago.

We pass by the tombs of Matthias, Tigana, and Anthony, Cassandra’s parents and brother respectively. Matthias and Tigana may have been executed for treason, but they still have a place in the family crypts. When passing by Anthony’s tomb, we can find a series of letters left by Cassandra on her visits here, in which she talks about how she is now running the reformed Seekers of Truth while still maintaining contact with the remnants of the Inquisition. She had feelings about revealing how to reverse Tranquillity but doesn’t regret doing so anymore.

NOTE: In this World State, Cassandra restored the Seekers of Truth and made the ritual to reverse the Rite of Tranquillity public knowledge.

I think it’s important to have quiet and atmospheric moments during exploration missions where you can just let the atmosphere take you on a journey into another world. This has the potential to be one such moment.

While passing through the Pentaghast Mausoleum and all the crypts and tombs in it, we feel this strange coldness that has been plaguing us for a while now. The deeper we get, the stronger it becomes. And we still have no idea what’s actually going on. Why are the Pentaghasts and Van Markham’s fighting each other?

When we venture a little deeper, we find dead Mourn Watchers who have been viciously slain. We suddenly get swarmed by the biggest horde of undead so far, way too numerous for us to fight off. Ingellvar and Emmrich try to use their magic to soothe the spirits possessing them, to no avail. One of the undead croaks that the King shall see us now.

An Audience with the King

We are taken to the deepest and most lavish part of the Pentaghast Mausoleum, the crypt of King Caspar the Magnificent. Now, Caspar is, of course, not only the first king of Nevarra but also the founder of the Pentaghast dynasty. The lore states that young Pentaghasts are traditionally brought into his crypt so that the spirit possessing his mummified body may speak to them.

His crypt was built in the style of a great and ancient throne room. The king himself sits upon the throne and “grants” us a very forceful audience. And Caspar looks just gaunt, like a creature straight from a Tim Burton movie. His throne room is drenched in green veilfire. He demands to know why the Mourn Watch keeps interfering in the War of the Banners, to which we reply that the dead should not be waging war at all. The dead must either rest or fulfil their duties to the Necropolis. But rising up against the living is neither of the two.

Caspar stands from his throne and approaches us. Throughout this whole scene, we can be either very respectful or feisty. But we’re playing Ingellvar as a very dedicated and honourable Mourn Watcher so we try to be respectful. As Caspar circles us, we see an opportunity to try and exorcise the spirit out of his body. It would be risky, but perhaps the undead would disperse then. Caspar’s spirit has surely been corrupted into a demon by now. So, do we:

Try and banish the spirit out of Caspar’s body?

Keep our head low?

In this instance, we try to do the right thing, so we perform a Mourn Watch ritual to banish the spirit possessing Caspar’s body. This leads to a horrifying discovery: Caspar is not possessed by a spirit. He’s not even possessed by a demon! He’s not controlled by another’s magic, either. Caspar is...something else. He’s no Lich, that much is clear, but he’s no longer the spirit that usually resides within the corpse either. So what is it?

Enraged, Caspar attempts to have us executed, only to be interrupted by something. As a mage, we are able to pick up on the cold air suddenly turning utterly freezing, and a voice calls through the emptiness, a dark voice, hollow and deep, as though coming from an abyss. It orders Caspar to bring us prisoners down to the Altar Chamber. Here’s where we get some lore: The Altar Chamber is the last room that separates the rest of the Necropolis from the domain of the Lich Lords. It is the place where newly chosen Liches are given their immortality.

The undead, led by King Caspar, take us away.

The Altar Chamber

We are taken down the deepest, most ancient stairs of the Necropolis, before meeting at the doors to the Altar Chamber. But we are not alone. Myrna and Vorgoth are also here, flanked by Van Markham soldiers, led by King Tylus Van Markham, the first of the Van Markhams to ever assume the throne of Nevarra. Tylus and Caspar at first are furious upon seeing each other, but the cold voice has commanded them both to bring the prisoners to the Altar Chamber.

Now that things can’t possibly get any stranger, we enter through the door.

The Lich Lord

In the great Altar Chamber, we encounter a tall, looming figure, with green flaming eyes, clad all in black. As Mourn Watchers, we recognise the figure immediately: a Lich Lord. Now things are even more confusing. The Lich Lords are supposed to protect the Necropolis from such undead uprisings. And yet here we are.

The Lich welcomes us, Myrna and us specifically. He then performs a glamour spell and assumes the form we find most familiar: before us stands our father, Alberich Ingellvar.

At the beginning of this entry, I said that our father, who found and adopted us, was such a dedicated member of the Mourn Watch that he was granted the honour of lichdom. Well, this is him now.

Alberich states that he sees clearer than the other Lich Lords and wishes to finally open the First Gate. Here’s where Emmrich perks up and we get some more lore: The First Gate lies at the heart of the Lich Lords’ domain. It existed before the rest of the Necropolis, and nobody aside from the Lich Lords knows what’s behind it. All we know is that protecting that gate is their main duty above all else. And Alberich seeks to open it.

He brought us here to grant us lichdom as he wants his children at his side. Here’s where we get a first hint of Emmrich’s own desire to be among the Lich Lords should he ever prove himself worthy. But this is wrong, one must earn their place in immortality through a life of dedicated and selfless servitude.

We can ask Alberich about the War of the Banners. He states it as a rather beneficial side effect of his rituals at the First Gate but doesn’t elaborate any further, we still need to keep some mystery alive for later.

As we study the undead around us, especially the two kings, we notice that they are reluctant to be here. So they aren’t possessed or controlled but somehow they both feel obliged to obey Alberich? Why?

Myrna betrays a hint of distress upon seeing her father abuse his powers like that. Vorgoth condemns his actions, calling him unworthy of lichdom. This seems to be the first case the honour was granted to one undeserving.

Paying them no heed, Alberich compels the Ingellvar siblings to step forward and receive lichdom. We can either:

Obey and step forward, expressing genuine interest in lichdom.

Resist because this is all kinds of wrong and goes against our teachings.

We choose the second option and refuse. Myrna agrees with us wholeheartedly. Alberich orders Tylus and Caspar to bring Myrna and us to him. The grip of the mummified corpses is as steel.

But just as we are about to be presented to Alberich, who reverts back to his Lich Lord form, Vorgoth unleashes their whole power. They send forth a burst of magic so strong that it just banishes the spirits out of all the possessed undead soldiers, sending them to the ground. Caspar and Tylus, since they’re not possessed, are knocked back against the wall, hissing and cursing. Alberich resists with some difficulty but ends up knocking Vorgoth out of the Altar Chamber.

He regards us with disappointment and declares that if we won’t join him in immortality willingly, he will bring us over himself. As Emmrich and Varric attempt to join us, they are attacked by Caspar and Tylus and engage in a fight with them.

Myrna and us are thrown into a boss battle against Alberich, in which he unleashes terrifying Lich powers upon us. This is, again, one of those fights we are probably meant to lose and come back to stronger at a later stage in the story.

As Alberich attempts to stab Myrna with the ritual dagger that would initiate the lichdom process, we jump right between the two and engage Alberich one-on-one. Alberich stabs us squarely in the chest and throws us to the ground. As he attempts to go through with the ritual, the dagger is shot out of his hand by Varric, followed by a crossbow bolt to the head, distracting him momentarily.

Varric and Emmrich, having gotten past Caspar and Tylus, rush to our side and, together with Myrna, drag us out. Alberich and the two kings attempt to pursue us, but Vorgoth returns and casts another blast against them. Then, all goes black.

Healing and Leaving

We awaken in a bed, our chest bandaged up. Myrna sits next to us and is overjoyed to see us finally showing signs of life again, a rare display of emotion for her. She tells us what happened: We escaped just at the last possible second, by the skin of our teeth. After a while, Caspar and Tylus broke off the chase and returned to their respective crypts, while Alberich remained in the Lich Lords’ domain. Nobody is ever the wiser about what is actually going on.

We feel a strange cold in our hearts and Myrna explains that it’s the after-effects of the ritual dagger. It will only improve if we leave the Necropolis for a while and get as far away from Alberich as possible. Confused, we ask where we should go. The Necropolis is our home. Myrna tells us that we should speak to Varric about that. He might just have an idea.

We leave our room and find Varric not far away. When asked about what this strange idea of a trip might be, Varric explains that he came to the Necropolis in search of someone who would accompany him on a most daring and perilous adventure. We don’t know if we should frown or laugh given that we just escaped a most daring and perilous adventure and were instructed to leave in order to heal from it. But what is it and where are we going? Varric can’t tell us just yet. We’ll just need to wait and see. Great.

Before we depart, we, of course, have the chance to talk to our Mourn Watcher friends one last time:

Vorgoth commends us on our refusal to heed the call of lichdom, which speaks of our worth. They recommend us to keep our soul clear of corruption while we are away.

Emmrich (now accompanied by Manfred once more) bemoans that we won’t be able to study together after all. We would have made such an absolutely fine apprentice. But our journey outside is not indefinite. We shall return and Emmrich will have the spot reserved. We have proven ourselves most deserving. Manfred gives a happy hiss.

Myrna bids us a very heartfelt goodbye for now and thanks us for saving her back there. We, of course, tell her to look after herself and not heed our father’s call. She agrees and expresses her intention to occupy the library for the foreseeable future, learning everything she can about what could have possibly led to everything that happened down there. Audric shows up and prepares to escort her to the library.

When we return to Varric, he recommends us that we change our name. If Lich Lord Ingellvar gets any ideas to come to the surface, we may not wish to be associated with him, given the clearly malicious intentions. We can’t really think of anything at first, but one last look at Emmrich reminds us of our chess game earlier, so we hesitantly say: “Rook.” Varric compliments us. “The strongest piece on the chessboard. I like it.”

Following Varric, we pass through the corridors of the Grand Necropolis, approaching the surface. Now called Rook, we look back one last time, before following our new acquaintance into the unknown.

And there we have it! A potential origin story mission for the Mourn Watchers. I am fully aware that it’s not at all perfect, and I am not entirely happy with it. Nevertheless, I hope you still found a modicum of enjoyment while reading this.

Next time, we shall travel to Rivain and tackle the last of our six factions’ origin stories with the Lords of Fortune, and boy do I have a bone to pick with those people. Stay tuned!

[zazter-den]

Foul-Mouthed Frit | Stained Glass Circumstances Ch. 1

Series: Snippet #1, Snippet #2, Current

Synopsis- All stained glass begins as frit, but you're not as frit of the warrior in front of you as you probably should be.(Main Scene: Bakugou, Aftercare: Kirishima).

Warnings- Coerced NonCon, Oral Knotting, CumVom, Choking, Clothes Tearing, Degradation, Overstim, Org Denial, Slap(giving), Forced Bond, King/Consort Dynamic, Alt A/B/O, Yandere Bakugou.

Tags- Fantasy AU, BarbarianKing!Bakugou, Dragon!Kirishima, KingConsort!Reader, Black Haired Reader, Isekai, Creampie, Chin Grab, Excessive Seed, Aftercare.

Word Count- 7700, Chapter 1

Your heart thumped against your ribs, unease and curiosity battling it out, as you stood before the imposing blond warrior. On a good day, you couldn't help but feel out of place in the simple hand-me-down dress, a one of few mercies you received from the cold villagers when you arrived. Standing here in front of the decorated barbarian within the confines of the grandiose war tent, you felt dressed in little more than rags. Was this man here to finish the villager's sad attempt at uprising? Surely non-lethal injuries to a handful of soldiers, even if severe, didn't warrant a general's (or whoever's) presence.

Why am I here? I wasn't even involved.

The bodice of the scratchy dress felt nearly too tight to breathe, a physical pressure to match the growing weight of dread settling in your bones. It had been a month since your watery arrival to this world, but it hadn't taken long to miss your modern clothes, modern stressors, and the familiarity of home. A pang of longing shot through you like a static shock, but you pushed it aside, focusing on the intimidating figure ahead.

A shiver ran down your spine as you met the blond's piercing blood red gaze. His throne, made from the bones of fallen beasts long dead and a patterned patchwork of leather, only amplified the imposing aura surrounding him. With each passing moment, you couldn't help but feel like a small, insignificant creature in the presence of a predator.

"Pint-sized for a dragon, aren't ya?" the barbarian growled, his gruff voice boomed in the tense silence, tone heavy with amused disdain. A predatory smirk adorned his face, highlighting his intimidating yet undeniably attractive features. "You're quite the fuckin' anomaly."

Your eyes widened at his words, and for a moment you forgot your unease. You had become so used to the weight by this point that you honestly almost forgot. A hand instinctively went to touch the base of the draconic crystal horns that jutted back from your hairline, a bizzarre feature you had woken to on the lake shore, a side effect of the magic that had forced your entry to this unfamiliar world.

All of the lakeside villagers were human, but you had learned enough about this world's inhabitants to know that that you weren't a true dragon like the ones the citizens of this realm were familiar with—those with wings, a tail, and true dragon features. You are, at your core, still human, and really the horns were the only evidence to suggest otherwise. The asshole wasn't entirely wrong in calling you a mystery.

"Can tell you're no real dragon, some sorta bastard maybe" he remarked, rumbly voice smug. "Though I admit, those crystal horns of yours are intriguing 'nough. You'll pass as an addition to my collection."

You blinked once, twice, as you struggled for a mere second to process the words coming out of the pompous man's mouth before time seemed to resume again.

Should you have been scared? Probably.

But you weren't.

Your eyes narrowed to near slits with incredulity as you peered up at him. White hot anger filled your veins, fear of the undoubtedly dangerous strange warrior forgotten. Being a newcomer to the realm, you couldn't quite comprehend the gravity of the situation in standing before the man in front of you. Being an outsider to the village and their rebellion, also meant you weren't aware yet just how low cowards will sink to save their own skin.

" 'Collection'? " You repeated, scoffing loudly at his arrogance. The gall of him had your nerves shot and common sense short circuiting. All pretenses of appearing as a polite peasant were now firmly out the window, all bets were off. After a month of biting your tongue to rude villagers as you struggled to adjust to your new life, it felt amazing to spit exactly what you were thinking. "Who the fuck do you think you are, blondie?”

The fair haired barbarian's grin only widened at your boldness, relishing the rare occurance. It wasn't often someone had a big enough death wish to challenge him face to face.

"O, sweetheart, not just any 'blondie'," he sneered, weighing the weight his words had on you. "I'm yer fuckin' king." Enjoying the way shock washed over your face, anger clearly forgotten, overshadowed by the realization that you were standing before the most dangerous man in the kingdom.

King Bakugou's amusement was evident as he leaned forward in his seat, his eyes gleaming with sadistic satisfaction at your dumbstruck face. "D'ya wanna know why you're standin' in front of me?" he asked, his tone dripping with condescension. "They offered ya to me, little anomaly," the barbaric royal continued, the corners of his lips curling into a cruel smile. "A barter for their miserable lives after a pitiful 'scuse of a rebellion."

You were shocked, your eyes meeting his with furious disbelief. "So, people I barely know, GAVE me to you to spare themselves?" your words were laced with anger and a sense of betrayal, unable to comprehend the depths of their craven desperation. Sure, they were cold to strangers, but to sacrifice you for their own lives wasn't something you had thought was even a possibility. Had it really been so foolish to want to believe they were finally warming up to you?

The barbarian king's expression hardened as he replied, his voice laced with a sharp edge. "Ya should feel honored," he snapped, his blood red eyes narrowing. Rising from his intimidating throne of giant bone and beast hide, he closed the distance between them with a purposeful stride. The sound of his heavy boots thudded against the packed ground within the war tent until he loomed over you.

“I rarely take consorts,” King Bakugou's hand shot out and firmly grasped your chin, tilting your head up to meet his piercing gaze. His touch was harsh, a firm reminder of the physical might that Bakugou wielded when he so chose. Your heart pounding in your chest as his fingernails dug into your jawline. Leaning in close, his face mere inches away from yours, his voice dropped to a low, dangerous rumble as he continued speaking. “especially not runt freaks like you." The disdain in the cold blooded king's tone sent a chill down your spine.

Your heart dropped, The weight of the revelation pressed heavy against your chest. Mind racing with anger and betrayal as you grappled with the harsh reality of your situation. You had only been in this unfamiliar realm for barely a few weeks and now you stood before the formidable barbarian king, a man who held the power of life and death over countless warriors and civilians alike.

It didn't take years of education, or really much common sense, to know the dangerous consequences of defying a medieval tyrant. You knew you had to keep your anger in check, to try to bite your tongue and submit. At least for now.

Your fate was sealed the moment you stepped into that fucking tent, and survival was now officially the priority.

King Bakugou's sadistic enjoyment of the situation was plain as he ruthlessly analyzed your appearance, his gaze lingering on the translucent crystal horns with an almost dismissive glance. "Yer horns are clear, nothin' special," he remarked, his voice dripping with annoyance. It was clear that your unique crystalline features held little significance in his opinion. However, as his eyes roamed down your body, a more sinister gleam sparked within them.

"Body, on the other hand, is fine enough for a concubine," the blond added with a twisted smirk, his grip on your chin tightening slightly. The shift of the dress' neckline sent a shiver down your spine, baring your shoulder to his inspection. Your heart beat faster as King Bakugou's piercing eyes bore into you, his actions invasive and dehumanizing. Your throat constricted in response to the humiliating position you found yourself in. Even having to resist the urge to pull your chin away from his grasp, knowing that defiance would only lead to suffering of some variety.

His eyes swept over your neck and shoulder, searching for any sign of a scar, any indication that you already belonged to another. You kept your gaze to the side, unnerved by the intensity of his bloody stare, a shiver rippled down your spine as his touch almost seemed to burn your skin.

"Good," he declared, a twisted smile tugging at his lips as his hot breath ghosting over the exposed skin. "No claim."

King Bakugou wasted no time in closing the remaining distance. Swiftly leaning down, he sank his canines into the smooth flesh with a forceful bite. However, unlike true mating, the barbaric blond did not release the necessary venom that would solidify an actual bond between souls.

The lack of numbing venom caused a sharp hiss to escape your lips, a mix of agony and indignation flooding your system. You might not have been here long and you certainly were no expert, but you knew the basics of mating marks, this world's lifelong courtship. It was a deliberate move, a clear reinforcement that he had no intentions of making you his equal partner in this arrangement. After all, you were merely a plaything, to be toyed with. You should be thankful not to be bound to the barbarian's soul, and yet you couldn't ignore the obvious insult. Or the pain.

The unexpected stabbing pain of fang sinking into flesh triggered a reflexive response, causing you to shove and slap Bakugou's face in a desperate attempt to free yourself from his grasp. The crack of your palm connecting with his cheek seemed to echo in the massive war tent, leaving a bright red handprint in its wake and a streak of crimson trailing down the king's chin.

The barbarian's eyes glowed with fierce delight, his feral nature taking enjoyment in the defiance of his new concubine. Despite the stinging pain in his cheek and the split in the corner of his upper lip from the strike, a low chuckle escaped King Bakugou's lips. "You've got guts, shitty horns, I'll give ya that much" he growled, his voice laced with a dark amusement as his tongue flicked over his split lip.

If you thought your heart was racing before, it certainly paled to the drumbeat it was pounding now.

You had dared to challenge the king, to strike him in a moment of instinct. If the tyrant himself marched to this village over a few maimed soldiers, what exactly was your punishment going to be? A part of you regretted the impulsive action, aware that it would only fuel the bestial nature of the tyrant and likely add to your own suffering...But another part of you couldn't suppress the thrill that surged through you when you slapped the shit out of him. You might be trapped in this new situation but you refused to be completely meek, cowering at his feet.

You would submit. But only as much as you had to.

As King Bakugou's wicked chuckle echoed in the confines of the tent, he swiped away the droplets of blood that trickled down his split lip, relishing in the taste. "Spirited whore, ha?" he continued with a dangerous glint in his eyes. "You'll learn. 'Til then, I'm gonna enjoy breaking that attitude of yours."

Your breathing grew shallow as you just stared at the king, mind a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. You knew full well that true defiance would only bring more challenges, but still a small ember of resistance burned. You would not surrender completely, no matter the threat. And even bolstered with the courage of the dissociative haze that emotionally numbed you to the consequences of your actions, you still knew the danger was very real.

The red glistening imprint of his bite marked your delicate skin, a reminder of his sadistic tendencies and the cruel pleasure he derived from such acts. Your body trembled in frustration, mind grappling with the complex storm of emotions that threatened to take over reason. You may have to play the role forced on you but you would bide your time, until the opportunity presented itself.

And so began the balancing act.

"Your position, in this territory," the warrior king continued, his voice dripping with gruff superiority, "is t'be at my beck and call. You exist to serve my needs now, like any other fuckin' whore. An' rest assured, you will serve me well." With those words, he spun you around and pressed your abdomen hard against the tent's solid wood table, his hands gripping your hips possessively.

"Lemme show you your new role," Bakugou sneered, voice filled with dark promise. With one swift motion, he pulled the rough dress up to rest on your hips, baring your body to his gaze. His eyes hungrily took in your curves, his fingers ran up the exposed skin of your thighs and hips. Feeling his rough fingers trail over the sensitive areas of your thighs, you could feel yourself getting lost in the intensity of the touch.

The sound of fabric tearing filled the air as King Bakugou ripped apart the too-tight bodice, buttons popping off as your breasts spilled free from the barely reinforced fabric. His knees pressed painfully firm against the back of yours, effortlessly spreading your shaky legs apart. The motion trapped your hips against the edge of the table and exposed your pussy to to his gaze. Breath hitched as you felt the large tip of his hardened cock pressing against your slick entrance. Every inch of your body tensed. Judging from the thickness of his head alone, the lean warrior was larger than you expected him to be. Bakugou's girth tested your cunt's limits, forced to stretch wide. Initial entry was rough, inch by inch, as your pussy's tight walls struggled to accommodate the impressive length of the barbaric king's dick. The pleasurable ache making you fight to maintain composure.

Leaning forward on your forearms for support, your chest squished against the cold surface of the table. Fingernails dug into the smooth wood, your knuckles turning white with each of Bakugou's punishing thrusts. An unexpected surge of arousal coursed through your veins, and you decided to embrace the inevitable pleasure that his pace promised to bring.

Despite your feelings on the turn of events, your body responded to his coarse treatment, for the distracting orgasm and mind-numbing hormones that lay tantalizingly within reach. Determined to find some semblance of pleasure within your new prison, you forced yourself to shift your perspective. If you were going to be forced to be an object of desire, you may as well revel in the physical gratification it offered and claw back any benefit you could until you made your move.

As the table rocked against the packed dirt floor of the tent with each forceful thrust, the warrior royal couldn't resist mocking you. His voice was filled sadistic amusement. "Where'd all that fire go?" he taunted, amused by the contrast between your previous defiance and your current submissive state. "Don't tell me I already fucked it out of ya."

Your aching walls had struggled to accommodate his girth initially, causing you to tense up. You had to focus on consciously relaxing your body, allowing him to fuck you with more ease. The mixture of discomfort and increasing pleasure sent waves of heat coursing through your body, intensifying your arousal. At this point, you couldn't tell whether the fact that rough sex made your cunt leak like a faucet was a pro or a con.

You really couldn't help but snap back, voice loaded with a defiant edge. "You really like the sound of your own voice, huh, 'Your Highness'?" you quipped harshly, rolling your eyes knowing he would be unable to see, as you were swept up by the overwhelming pleasure of being fucked against the table.

Undeterred by your attempt at disrespect, Bakugou leaned forward over your bare back, his lips grazing the shell of your ear. The warrior king's voice dripped with amusement as he addressed your lack of fear. "You're really not scared of me, are ya?" the blond chuckled sharply, the feeling of his hot breath against your skin sending shivers down your spine. "Give it time," he sneered, his grip on your erect nipples tightening as he pinched and pulled. With a choked moan, your body arched instinctively in response, a symphony of conflicting sensations flooding your body.

Your black curls bounced with each punishing thrust, your body pressed against the dull edge of the table, the hard surface digging into your hips with a force that promised to leave bruised reminders of your afternoon in the days to come. The brutal intensity behind Bakugou's movements overwhelmed you, leaving you breathless and at his mercy.

Just when you thought you had found a rhythm, just when you though you were getting close to finally cumming- the royal bastard abruptly withdrew, his cock's sizeable head dragging along the walls of your dripping passage. A soft indignant gasp escaped your lips as the sudden emptiness left you yearning for release. Inner walls involuntarily clenched in a futile attempt to hold onto the fleeting pleasure, not that you would ever admit it out loud.

He took a moment to enjoy your needy frustration before thrusting back inside with renewed intensity. Each powerful movement caused your body to arch and quiver in response, teetering on the razor's edge between ecstasy and torment. Despite the lingering defiance in your heart, your cunt betrayed you, subconsciously craving the pleasure that Bakugou pounded into you. The aching bite at the junction of your neck felt hot, as your nipples squeezed between his vice-like fingers.

Your walls eagerly embraced the renewed pounding, tightening around him in a desperate attempt to hold onto the pleasure he provided. The overwhelming mixture of pain and pleasure sent shockwaves through your body, sparking sensations that threatened to consume entirely. As the table creaked under the combined weight, your gasps and moans filled the air, merging with the sounds of flesh slapping against flesh and groaning wood. The intensity of the king's pace, each thrust pushing you closer to cumming around the thick cock slamming in and out of your needy hole.

As your body neared the peak of pleasure, King Bakugou enjoyed the control he had over you, keeping that orgasm just out of reach. Each time you felt the pleasure building within you reach that breaking point, he would cruelly withdraw, denying you much needed relief. The frustration reached a boiling point,as your walls involuntarily clenched desperately around the thick ridge of his cockhead in a feeble attempt to keep it inside.

"Stop fucking teasing me!" you shot over your shoulder in irritation. The pleasure that coursed through your veins was distracting, clouding your mind and amplifying your need to cum. The denial of your orgasm left you on the edge in what felt like a perpetual state of yearning, body aching for the release that the feral blond held in his cruel grasp.

As King Bakugou repositioned himself, angling his thrusts to target your most sensitive spots, and the pleasurable torment of denial continued. The conflicting sensations pushed you further towards either heaven or hell. With how your legs trembled with both the overstimulation of your poor pussy's stretched walls and the unbearable need to cum, you weren't sure which you were closer to.

"Ha? Think ya forgot who serves who here," bloody eyes narrowing as he sneered, his arrogant tone held an unrestrained hunger. A wicked grin tugged at the corners of his lips as he drank in your frustration. He took great sadistic pleasure in this game. Knowing that, despite your protests, he had the power to bring you to the edge of cumming and keep. You. Trapped. There.

As the twisted dance between pleasure and denial continued, your body reacted eagerly to every movement, cunt walls fluttering near constantly in desperate need of fulfillment. Each time King Bakugou withdrew, your inner muscles clenched around the massive disappearing tip, another futile attempt to hold onto the pleasure that slipped through your grasp.

Wet, squelching sounds filled the air as he pounded back into your gushing pussy. The table beneath you was sticky with your juices, and his blood red gaze spotted a string of viscous slick suspended mid-air between the edge of the table and the packed dirt floor below.

With each turn of Bakugou's cruel cycle, a symphony of profanity spilled from your parted lips. Your body shook with the weight of unfulfilled lust, aching for the relief that seemed cruelly just out of reach. The rise and fall of your emotions danced in harmony with the motion of their bodies, humiliating frustration fueling your foul mouthed whimpers.

"'N fact," Bakugou laughed, gruff voice filled with sadistic glee, "I think that tongue o' yours has earned ya a punishment."

The barbarian's fingers curled around your quartz horns, his grip possessive and firm. As his grip tightened, you barely felt the dull ache spreading from the base of your horns through the haze of pleasure and overstimulation. The strain on your neck was evident, your head tilted back to reveal the garnet red bite print marring your exposed skin.

With a deliberate slowness, King Bakugou pulled back on your crystalline horns, his hold firmly guiding you until your upper body was no longer supported by the table's wooden surface. Weakened by the cruel cycle of ecstasy and denial imposed on you, your legs trembled with the effort to remain upright. The shift in position caused a head rush as you fought to remain standing upright. Turns out, you wouldn't need to fight that battle for long.

Using your horns as a guide, Bakugou yanked you down to kneel before him. Obediently following his command, your weakened knees sunk against the hard packed dirt beneath you. The shift in posture brought about a new level of submission, body now positioned at his feet, ready to fulfill the king's desires.

Bakugou's massive member hung heavy above you, his imposing figure towering over as he peered down with cruel superiority. "Ever get your mouth washed out with soap?" he sneered, a wicked grin stretching across his face.

With a snarky retort already forming on the tip of your tongue, you opened your mouth to deliver a biting response. However, in that moment of distraction, the massive cock head shoved past your lips, the sudden intrusion catching you off-guard. A muffled gag sound escaped your throat, eyes widening in surprise as King Bakugou claimed your mouth with little mercy. Musk filled your senses, the unexpected violation left you momentarily stunned. Your eyes watered as you struggled to accommodate his size, jaw stretched to its limits while King Bakugou hissed in pleasure at the feel of your hot tongue against his dick.

A gasp of surprise escaped your lips, muffled by Bakugou's large cock as he took advantage of the opening you unwittingly provided and began to thrust. The rough motion caused your tongue to press against the underside of the massive member, tasting both of you. The initial shock gave way to a mix of conflicting sensations - humiliation, arousal, and a begrudging surrender.

Your throat constricted around the tip of his dick as you fought against your body's instinctive gag reflex. The taste of your combined arousal filled your mouth, the combination of his precum and your own slick coating your tongue with every thrust. With each attempt, guided by the iron grip he held on your crystalline horns, you managed to swallow a little more of his length, throat stretching in an attempt to accommodate his girth. The barbaric king's control remained unyielding. He roughly guided your movements with an unwavering grip on your horns, forcing the pace at which you took him deeper. The sight of your struggle only made him grip you tighter, setting a faster pace.

You looked good, all fuckdrunk at his feet, submitting to his desires without question.

With each inch you took down your throat, your breathing became increasingly labored. Your eyes flitted upwards as much as possible, trying to meet his gaze as you continued to obey his every command. Teary eyes pleaded for mercy, yearning for the release that was just out of reach, as you continued to let King Bakugou's thrust into your throat. Bakugou locked gazes with you. It wasn't that he ignored your pitiful puppy eyes, all watery and unfocused, but it didn't certainly have the outcome you were begging for. His pace sped up, his thrusts becoming more urgent as he approached his climax.

Your eyes narrowed in confusion and as you felt a new ridge near the base of his cock begin to swell. It took you by surprise, lips forced to start to form an O-shape as you struggled to comprehend what was happening. You mumbled uselessly around the resulting barrier, only managing to press your tongue harder against the enlarged gland.

"Never seen an alpha before?" King Bakugou asked incredulously, the tone of his voice heavy with pompous amusement. "Ya really are a fuckin' freak, this'll be fun" he added, sadistically excited for the surprise in store for you.

The swelling knot created a tight seal against your teeth, effectively trapping your tongue in a frenzy of desperate, frantic movements. As his lust hit a peak, Bakugou looked down at you with dark satisfaction, the intensity of his gaze piercing into your very being. His words cut through the pounding of blood in your ears, his mean grin widening.

"Y're gonna want to breathe through your nose when ya can," he instructed as his hips started to stutter, cruel grin never faltering. "For the next ten minutes at least." He took great joy in the power he held over you, knowing full well the challenge he was about to present. His groans of pleasure were the only warning of his orgasm that you got besides the pulse of his knot, before waves of warm cum were cascading down your throat. You fought against the rising panic, you just needed to relax you told yourself. The taste of his seed flooded the back of your throat, your lips stretched around his swollen knot, as you braced yourself to endure the minutes to come.

Your breathing grew ragged as you tried to comply with the barbaric king's instruction, the pressure of his spurts down your throat sending your body into a state of sensory overload. Each surge of his cum filled the back of your mouth, forcing you to swallow to make room for more, so you wouldn't be overwhelmed. Nose pressed against the coarse, orange wires of his pubic hair, your breaths coming in short gasps as you struggled to find enough air.

Your sore throat bobbed with each gulp, lips sealed tightly around Bakugou's pulsing knot. You followed his instructions, taking quick breaths through flared nostrils whenever his spurts allowed a moment of respite. As you continued to swallow the seemingly never-ending load, your eyes watered and throat contracted around the royal's throbbing cock. Bakugou ran his thumb over your neck, tracing over the ridge his twitching cockhead made in your throat, causing you to choke and sputter, your reflexive gag wrapped around his dick.

The primal sounds of you gagging and swallowing seemed to fuel Bakugou, a wicked gleam in his eyes as he reveled in your struggle to regain control of your reflexes. He found the cruel game fun, knowing that you had to drink every single drop or be overwhelmed by the seed that filled your mouth. As the barbaric king rolled his hips, his cock milked one last time by your tight walls, the deflating knot slipped past your teeth with a squelching pop. You felt each inch slowly withdraw from your pained throat, eliciting a mix of both relief and a weird sense of emptiness. Your jaw ached from the strain, throat raw and bruised from the rough treatment. Cum dripped from your swollen lips, a shiny string dripping towards the ground between your knees.

You leaned back against the leg of the heavy table, body boneless and weak from the intense sex. Your chest heaved with each ragged breath, senses still reeling from the experience. The taste of his cum still lingered in your mouth, a reminder of of just how well you had performed your role.

His cruel grin twisted with satisfaction as he held your weak chin with his thumb and pointer finger, tilting your glassy gaze to meet his blood red eyes. The arrogance in his voice was evident as he spoke, his words laced with a mocking tone.

"You did well, little whore," King Bakugou taunted, "Maybe you'll last longer than the others." His words cut through you like a knife, a reminder of your place and his complete control over the situation.

And it only got worse.

Your stomach churned, the fullness from consuming the sheer volume of cum you did, mixed with the exhaustion and strain on your body. It was rapidly becoming too much to bear. The taste of his bitter seed lingered in your mouth, adding to the increasing waves of nausea that welled up. With shaky legs, you bolted towards the clean bucket next to the table, a hand clamped over your mouth. Face contorted in anguish as you reached it just in time, hunching over and emptying the viscous contents of your stomach into the wood container, a curtain of dark curls obscuring the action.

Wave after wave of white, thick cum splashed into the bucket. Your throat burned even more from the forceful expulsion, tears streaming down your face as you tried to catch your breath between stomach spasms and hiccups.

Meanwhile, Bakugou simply rolled his crimson eyes in annoyance. He watched with a scowl as you succumbed to the ill effects of being orally knotted for first time, his own sense of satisfaction completely unaffected. The king redressed himself in his leather breeches, his muscular chest displayed proudly. He made no move to help or console you, instead commenting with a disdainful tone

"Y're gonna have to get better at that," he sneered, his dissatisfaction with the newest addition to his collection clear as day. Without a backward glance, he exited the tent, leaving you seething with roiling resentment.

As you continued to glare daggers at his retreating back over the rim of the bucket, an unbreakable determination burned in your eyes. The interaction had further solidified your disdain for the barbarian king. One way or another, you swore to yourself, you were going to find a way to make that man miserable.

Bakugou made his way through the field, his strides thudding quickly across the field. His blood red eyes scanned the surroundings, taking in the lush greenery and wind rustling through the grass and leaves. In the distance, he spotted Captain Kirishima, his towering figure standing tall on a hill overlooking the lake.

The captain of the king's guard, tall and muscular, wore his signature dark grey uniform adorned with a crimson cloak denoting his station. His mane of long, vibrant red hair cascaded down his back, and his curved ruby horns glinted in the late afternoon light. Nearing a staggering seven feet, Kirishima towered over most humans and dragons alike. With a languid stretch of his wings and tail, he looked every bit the formidable dragon he was. Even though his stature was imposing- off the battlefield, there was a softness to his facial features, a warmth in his scarlet eyes that contradicted his formidable appearance.

Stretching his wings and tail with a contented yawn, Kirishima paused mid-spread as he noticed his long time friend approaching. His scarlet eyes widened in alarmed confusion as he caught sight of the split upper lip on the king's face.

"What happened to your lip?" Kirishima asked baffled, his tail and wings still unintentionally frozen extended as he waited.

Bakugou's grin widened, his blood-red eyes shining with a mischievous glint. He licked his split upper lip, savoring the sting that still lingered from your bold and unexpected slap. The memory of the defiance brought a twisted satisfaction to the king.

"Hah! The village's 'peace offering' turned out fiesty" he responded, a hint of admiration laced within his tone. The fact that you had the audacity to strike him, the mighty Murder King Bakugou, had caught the barbarian off guard at the time, but it definitely made you more interesting.

Kirishima's eyebrows furrowed in surprise, his tail flicking. "They attacked you?" he asked taken aback, “Are they still breathing?” The captain knew that the barbaric ruler was not one to tolerate defiance easily, let alone physical attempts to challenge his authority. Kirishima's mind flooded with questions, but he kept them to himself as he awaited further explanation from his commanding king.

Bakugou's smug grin widened even further, his blood red eyes sparkling with perverse delight. "Oh, they're alive," he responded, his voice dripping with a sadistic satisfaction, "Just paying for their little outburst, that's all."

The words hung in the air, the implication clear. The king's tone hinted at the punishment the new consort was enduring in the privacy of the tent.

Although he hadn't yet met the new concubine, Kirishima couldn't help but feel a pang of empathy towards them. Having grown up with the royal, he knew firsthand the levels of wrath Bakugou could reach. Despite these conflicting emotions, Kirishima's primary concern was ensuring the well-being of those in the king's care, even if it meant treading carefully in the sea of Bakugou's own volatile temper. It often fell to the loyal captain to keep the king from committing actions he would regret later. Well, less regret and more inconvenience him.

"'n fact, you're on babysitting duty while I deal with the village," Bakugou said, the murderous glint in his bloody eyes betraying his enjoyment of the situation. The king's command echoed in Kirishima's ears, causing his ruby scaled tail to stiffen and his broad shoulders to tense.

Kirishima let out a silent exhale, disappointment etched across his face as he processed the news. In truth, he had hoped that Bakugou would choose to spare the villagers and seek a peaceful resolution instead of resorting to violence. The captain believed that the actions of a few rebels should not warrant bloodshed on such a scale. After all, the villagers had made multiple peace offerings to appease the barbaric king, it felt like a breach of honor for Bakugou to now go back on that agreement.

However, Kirishima knew better than to openly challenge his friend's authority. He respected the position Bakugou held and understood the consequences of rebellion. Biting his tongue, Kirishima buried his disappointment and gave a casual bow to his commanding ruler, before making his way towards the tent on the hilltop.

Kirishima stepped into the large tent, his unfurled wings brushing against the side as he entered. His wings, magnificent and majestic, spanned wide, their vibrant ruby scales shimmering under the soft glow of the tent's filtered light. The ruby scales continued down the length of his long, sinuous tail, adding a touch of elegance to his formidable presence.

As his fiery ruby eyes landed on you, Kirishima's first thought was one of surprise. The person who had struck King Bakugou looked a lot less imposing than he had anticipated. You, unlike the powerful and intimidating dragons Kirishima was used to, stood before him at a mere average human stature. If that. The only discernible dragon feature you possessed were the crystal dragon horns that adorned your head, gleaming subtly in the low lit tent. His scaled tail swayed slightly, displaying a mix of curiosity and caution.

Your eyes widened as they met Kirishima's for the first time, and your body tensed instinctively. You had been thoroughly exhausted, both physically and emotionally, by your round with Bakugou. Your throat was raw and voice gone, leaving you unable to deliver the defiant expletives you desperately wanted to snarl at the imposing dragon that had just entered the tent. But your voice failed you, leaving you with only one avenue of expression.

With a fierce hiss, you expelled every ounce of ferocity you had left buried within. Your body tensed, lips curling back in a display of bare teeth. The hiss reverberated within the confines of the tent, a desperate attempt to communicate defiance to Kirishima, to convey that you would not be dominated or humiliated any further today.

The captain took a step back, scarlet eyes swept over your form, they couldn't help but notice the torn remnants of your bodice on the floor and the ripped dress clinging to your body. The rips and tears spoke volumes of the intense encounter you had undergone at the hands of King Bakugou. His gaze then landed on the mark that marred the delicate skin of your neck—an unmistakable claim.

Kirishima's eyebrows shot up in surprise, his mind reeling with the implications.

As a dragon, Kirishima understood the significance of such a bite - it bound two souls together, sealing their connection as life partners in a way that couldn't be severed. When done correctly.

Marking a consort with a claim without fully mating them was not unheard of, but it was generally met with extreme judgment. Claims in terms of mating were typically reserved for life partners, a commitment that extended beyond physical desire. Nobles, known for their fickle nature and ever-shifting loyalties, often chose to mark their consorts with more temporary symbols, such as collars.

The ornate collars allowed the royals to easily discard their concubines when they grew bored. The nobility were notorious for their fickleness and often left their consorts behind as they moved on to fresh pursuits. By marking a consort with a bite with no intention of making you an equal, Bakugou had not only defied what little merciful convention held by the upper class but also inflicted a cruel fate upon you in Kirishima's eyes. The mark would make it near impossible for you to find a true mate, forever branded as the king's property.

Kirishima couldn't help but feel a stab of disappointment towards his lifelong friend. While he knew the barbarian ruler's tendencies on the battlefield, he hadn't thought Bakugou would exhibit such cruelty towards a consort, knowing you would likely be discarded at some point. Kirishima's own sense of honor and loyalty clashed with the conflicting emotions he felt, itching at the back of his mind as he observed the vulnerable state you found yourself in.

The captain's gaze lingered on your throat, noticing the subtle signs of strain and discomfort. The realization for the hissing aggression struck Kirishima like a bolt of lightning. You had lost your voice, and it wasn't due to natural causes or illness. No, it became clear to him that it was likely a result of your first tryst with King Bakugou, an experience that he could only imagine had been rough and brutal, throat rubbed raw from the repetitive acts demanded of you.

Feeling a surge of empathy, Captain Kirishima decided to ease the intimidating aura he unintentionally projected. He understood that his imposing stature must be overwhelming to you, given the turn of events. He folded his wings against his back, their vibrant red membranes pressed tightly together, confining their expansive span. The act served to minimize his physical presence, making him appear less threatening. He slouched slightly, adopting a more relaxed stance, and kept his hands visible, showing that he meant no harm. It was a deliberate display of non-aggression, aimed at putting you at ease, or at least as much at ease as one could be in such circumstances.

The red dragon's eyes softened as he noticed the weary look on your face. He could see the exhaustion etched into every line, body still trembling from the recent ordeals you had endured. Determined to offer some solace in this tumultuous situation, he decided to take matters into his own hands.

With slow deliberate steps, Kirishima moved away from you and towards a pile of chests near the entrance of the war tent. These chests contained spoils from the village, items meant to appease the king after their attack on his soldiers. Kirishima knew that among them, there was a chest filled with garments. Opening one of the chests, he carefully sifted through the contents until he found a fine yet simple dress that roughly matched your size.

A small smile tugged at the corners of Kirishima's lips as he gently tossed the dress onto the table, positioning it between the tow of you. Its delicate fabric fluttering in the air before settling down over the wood. It was a small gesture, but meant to convey that he harbored no ill intentions.

It was a silent message that you deserved respect and dignity, even in this tumultuous situation.

Sensing that you needed some space to collect yourself and change, Kirishima took a much smaller chest from the pile. He left the tent, giving you room to breathe and reckon with the pent-up emotions that surely swirled like storm clouds.

As the cool mountain breeze blew through his hair, Kirishima found a suitable spot a few paces from the tent, overlooking the serene lake in the warm hues of late afternoon light. With deftness and precision, he constructed a small firepit, arranging the rocks in a circle. As the dragon exhaled softly, a gentle stream of fire escaped his lips, the light glinting off his curved ruby horns. The flickering flames danced and crackled, casting a comforting glow over the hilltop.

As the captain patiently waited for the water to heat, he glanced back towards the war tent, briefly catching sparkle of your horns through the opening. His heart went out to you. Though he understood the gravity of Bakugou's actions, Kirishima couldn't help but feel a creeping sense of responsibility in making sure you felt as comfortable as possible, despite the circumstances.

Just as the water in the kettle neared boiling, Kirishima activated his innate talent. His hands hardened, gaining an impressive durability that allowed him to handle the intense heat without harm. With a swift motion, he reached for the kettle, hands possessing the resilience of a dragon's scales. His grip was confident and steady as he effortlessly removed the kettle from the fire, preventing the water from boiling. He gently tossed the healing tea leaves into the kettle, watching as they swirled and danced in the near-boiling water. The soothing aroma of the tea began to waft through the air, carrying with it hints of delicate flowers and calming herbs.

With a careful hand, Kirishima reached into the tea chest, procuring a magnificent stained glass teacup that shimmered in hues of red and amber. Draconic stained glass was a rarity, prized for its strength and ethereal beauty. The light of the late sun cascaded through the vibrant colors, casting an enchanting glow on his hands.

Unwrapping the glass bottles, the captain uncorked the crystallized honey and yuzu peel. He slowly poured a generous amount of honey into the teacup, its golden texture illuminated by the sunlight. Next, he added a pinch of the fragrant dried yuzu peel, allowing its subtly sweet and citrusy scent to infuse the air. These ingredients held healing properties, meant to soothe and restore vitality to worn souls. The captain took extra care, ensuring that the precise balance of ingredients was met, creating a concoction that he hoped would bring some measure of comfort to your weary spirit.

With a quiet exhale, Kirishima patiently awaited the completion of the tea's steeping process. He hoped that the healing properties of the tea, combined with the warmth and tranquility of their surroundings, would provide a much-needed respite for your body and mind. In this moment of quiet reflection, he couldn't help but hope that this small act of kindness would bring some solace amidst the chaos that was now your new life in royal confines.

As the tantalizing fragrance of the healing tea filled the air, it didn't take long for you to emerge from the confines of the tent, eyes cautiously studying Kirishima's every move. Clad in the simple yet elegant dress he had provided you, features betraying a mix of cautious curiosity, before you fully exited the tent.

Scarlet eyes met yours as he poured the infused brew into the stained-glass teacup, the colors of the evening sun casting a mesmerizing glow through its amber and red hues. With a delicate touch, he extended the teacup towards you, his gentle gesture offering a sense of peace and comfort amongst the chaos.

Your gaze flickered between the beautiful teacup in Kirishima's hands and his eyes, wariness slowly giving way to a glimmer of trust. You lowered yourself onto the cushion placed by the fire, its warmth seeping through the fabric and into your tired body. Settling in, you positioned yourself to face the serene vista of the lake, where the calm waters mirrored the vibrant shades of the setting sun.

Kirishima, mindful of your nervous vigilance, kept his movements steady and reassuring. His hand extended further, confidently offering you the teacup of healing brew. The crimson colored light filtering through the stained glass seemed to dance and flicker as if carrying with it a promise of respite.

A soft smile tugged at Kirishima's lips as he spoke, his voice gentle yet filled with earnest sincerity. "Can we start over? I'm Captain Kirishima." In that simple statement, he hoped to convey that he was not just a guard but someone who, at their heart, genuinely cared. Someone who would listen and support you, should you choose to share your burdens.

He waited patiently, the teacup held delicately between the two of you, awaiting your response. In this moment, amidst the tranquil beauty of the lake and the tender offering of healing tea, he hoped that they could find a glimmer of solace and a fresh beginning.

IRL Safety Disclaimer: Never Pull A Partner Up By Their Hair Off of a Surface. You Will Injure Someone.

Taglist: @themythicaldisaster

Comments and Reblogs carry me through the week!

[thesensteawitch]

Insights About Your Destiny!💌🍃

Pick A Pile Reading

(Left to Right- Pile 1, Pile 2, Pile 3)

Hey, Senstea Souls!🤍

This collective reading is divided into three parts:

-Your destiny when you were born

-How it changed due to your karma

-Where it's leading you now (Paid)

Parts 1 & 2 are available in this blog but to know Part 3 you'll need to pay $10 and get a personalised reading about where your destiny is taking you.

Choose your pile intuitively. Take what resonates and leave what doesn't as it's a general reading.

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Pile 1

Your destiny when you were born

Tarot Cards- The Devil, King of Cups, 7 of Swords, The Lovers, The Moon

Okay, my dear pile 1. The first thing that I heard was 'twins'. It's very specific but some of you have twins. I also sense that your mother may have faced difficulty during delivery. Probably a lot of pain. You have been emotional since birth. Cancer, Pisces, and Scorpio are coming up (sun, moon, or rising). I also hear, “When you're young they assume you know nothing.” When you were born your destiny was all about dealing with relationships. You were a child who could easily absorb people's energy. A lot of karma you carried in this lifetime. When you were born some of it started settling in your subconscious. Your destiny was all about choosing because I also sense Gemini energy here which shows confusion and difficulty in finding balance. It was written that you'll find it difficult to say no. I am sorry to say but I also sense that some of you have even dealt with sexual abuse of some kind. That too at a very early age. My heart is with you pile 1. I send you so much healing and love. It was written in your destiny that you will face many betrayals and will see the devil behind sweet faces. But no one would believe you. So you'll keep a lot of truths to yourself. Not to avoid conflict but because you had conflicting thoughts. You questioned yourself when others were the ones to be questioned! Up until now, you may have faced a good number of heartbreaks. All the relationships in your life were/are meant to make you realize your true potential. Because you are so different from the crowd pile 1. You couldn't see that since childhood. You felt like an outcast or maybe unimportant. But that's not true. You were born to be different and realize how unique you are! I also sense that you developed your intelligence. It wasn't like you were born intelligent. Since the day you were born, you are only shedding skin and becoming new now and then. Your destiny was all about finding true connections right through the false and painful ones. Many of you were born to be artists or do something different/out of the league. I also sense that your decisions have always been governed by the trauma you went through and the good thing is that you are aware of it.

How has your destiny changed based on your karma?

Tarot Cards- 7 of Wands, 6 of Swords, The Fool, 4 of Pentacles, 7 of Pentacles

I am so proud of you pile 1. You worked hard to be who you are today. You've changed so much. You were practically pushed towards your purpose. Your soul couldn't take it anymore is exactly when rage intervened and you found your strength. You always did your best. You changed your destiny. Where it was written that you're continuously going to face relationship trauma you found your way out of those patterns. You made yourself aware. Despite opposing forces and disempowering words, you stood your ground. I must say your initial years of stubbornness made you walk to the other side. Your rage and stubbornness were the beginning. You suddenly became the warrior. You have finally unlocked new chapters and have shifted the vibrational frequency of your destiny. Otherworldly concepts influenced you a lot to change your perspective towards life. You left the fear-based reality far behind. You became a risk taker. You have developed some very special gifts and are holding onto them. You're also hoping to grow yourself further. You have got a lot to learn and you know that. You want to learn more. You are continuing to be on this transforming journey. No matter how painful it is, you're still moving ahead. You have a thirst for truth, hence you have the patience to wait for it. Currently, you are letting go of the control. Slowly but steadily.

To know where your destiny is taking you book a reading with me only at $10.

Pile 2

Your destiny when you were born

Tarot Cards- 10 of Pentacles, Ace of Pentacles, 5 of Cups, Page of Pentacles, 4 of Cups

Hello, my beautiful pile 2. The first thing I saw was that either you were born into a well-to-do family or a family that was financially facing a tough time. For some of you, I also see a big family. But when you were born something major happened. Someone with whom you were close to when you were born or someone who loved you dearly when you were born is no more. I say this with utmost sincerity and love for you. I sense that your destiny was about dealing with a family where everyone and everything was perfect except you. You were ridiculed a lot for how you looked or your overall personality. I also sense that you were given everything but still, there was something that you were looking for. Your destiny was about coming out of the cocoon of the perfect world and truly experiencing life with its imperfections. I also sense that you have lived among perfectionist people. Deep in your heart and destiny's chart, you were meant to give something to the world. Everyone around you was focused on taking but you wanted to know how you can make others lives better. You were destined to be dependent on yourself and create a life of your own. A life that is not defined by your background. You are someone who was destined to see the darkness behind the gold and glitters. You have been somebody who always questioned the ways of the world. I hear, “You're on your own kid. You always have been. You were destined to bring a powerful change in your family. Any direction you have chosen was only meant to take you to a better place, closer to your purpose. Some of you may even have gone through some health crises as it was written because you function differently compared to other members of your family. You were meant to be the trailblazer.

How has your destiny changed based on your karma?

Tarot Cards- Knight of Wands, King of Pentacles, 3 of Wands, The Emperor, King of Cups

I hear you had to break your own heart to free yourself and move towards your purpose. You weren't understood and that created a deep wound, a longing to move away, especially from your family dynamics. I strongly sense that you lost someone very dear to you. For a very few of you, it might be literal death. Based on your karma you created a certain reality in your mind and it still gives you pain. You're asked to change your thought patterns and question yourself. To want what you want you had to learn what you don't want. And what you don't want is what you got since the beginning. But I see that you've made yourself firm about certain aspects of life. You have your guard up but deep down you are a very emotional and caring human being. You somewhat have your emotions locked up but you do feel them in silence. You are now moving towards making yourself a better human being and growing yourself so that you can genuinely contribute to the world. I also see that some of you have been traveling for quite a while now but still some days you feel restless. You are still being asked to look within and look closer. You're somewhat distracted and still aren't following your purpose. Making money is not the end goal and you know that. Your soul knows that. Always staying on your guard is stressful and you feel that. You're still living in a survival mode. Though you have made slight progress you still need to see the truth. You're missing the details. You're afraid of expressing yourself. I hear your destiny saying, “I just wanna keep calling your name till you come back home.” Now, go deep into the meaning. Don't read it on the surface level. Stop feeding your mind with negative thoughts. Your destiny is still calling you to look in the right direction and release the pain. You deserve love and you'll find love. For some of you, I also sense that love will heal you. Finding someone who loves you dearly will heal you. All you need is love. You're passionate but you stop yourself as you think you need to present yourself in a certain way. You are looking for something and I am telling you all you need is someone who can provide a safe space for what resides deep within your heart.

To know where your destiny is taking you book a reading with me only at $10.

Pile 3

Your destiny when you were born

Tarot Cards- Knight of Cups, Judgement, King of Swords, 3 of Cups, The Devil

Hello, my beautiful pile 3. The first thing that I observed was that your cards were very eager to come out. There was a desire that you couldn't fulfill in your past life and your soul wanted to have that fulfilled in this lifetime. I sense that you have been an active kid in your childhood. Someone who loved making friends. But there was also something saintly about you. You seem to be a bit flirtatious too. I sense that your purpose was to reconnect with your soul tribe. Some of you are walking on the spiritual path. Your purpose was to find romantic connections that could liberate you from your patterns and make you reborn into a different being every time. You were destined to go through all the unwanted situations and meet unwanted people to finally find what you want. You were meant to heal your wounds around friendship and romantic bonds. I also hear your shadow side saying, “You broke me first.” As you may have been aware of this destiny for a very long time so you lived in pain and stayed in this cycle where you kept hating those who broke your heart or who played with your heart. Some of you may even like to dance. Move your body often and release stuck energy. Dancing can have something to do with your purpose too. Your destiny was to go through emotional ups and downs to finally think logically and see the truth of your life. To see why things happened the way they did. You were meant to reflect years after a situation happened. You may have found many answers to your trauma years after it happened. This is for your inner child, “I keep every hour of every day keeping you safe.” You won't be able to escape your destiny. BECAUSE IT IS THE PATH LEADING YOU TO YOUR SPIRITUAL GROWTH. I also hear, “I am just protecting my innocence. I am just protecting my soul.” Protect your inner child. It's a part of the destiny you were born with.

How has your destiny changed based on your karma?

Tarot Cards- 3 of Swords, Ace of Pentacles, 4 of Wands, 8 of Pentacles, Strength

Wow, pile 3. Well done! You're healing your heart chakra. You're appreciating and seeing the lesson in situations you came across. You're no longer blaming people but trying to see the divine reason behind things. You're not stuck on one polarity. You see all the perspectives and can make peace with them. You've gained a lot of strength right through this desire to find the right people that match your mindset. Though you haven't found them yet you soon will. I see some of you are even working so hard to make yourself financially stable. The painful cycle that you have been in for years is now approaching its end because you were willing to learn the lesson. You're so brave, pile 3. You've developed this spark and light around you that others can't help but notice. You've mastered the art of self-transformation pile 3. You didn't let yourself stay stuck in the energy of looking for your worth in the other people. Some of you may still be realizing it and are working on it. You've finally found your balance. You're keeping your calm and continuously learning the lessons. Some of you may have strong Sagittarius placement (it's not necessary). You are no more afraid of the predators that are out there in the wild. You have trust in your intuition. Consider reading pile 1 too if you were drawn to it. I am finding some similarities. You're currently on the verge of balancing your private and personal life.

To know where your destiny is taking you book a reading with me only at $10.

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[icarusflewsworld]

Rhysand & Cassian & Azriel X OC

Hello, here is the chapter 17 of a fanfiction on the world of Acotar where our three favorite Batboys are the mates of a single woman.

Finally, I'm posting two chapters today because what I originally wrote was too long, (11000 words which is an average of 40 minutes of reading) so I divided it into two. So there is a chapter after this one!

! Don't forget to read the previous chapters ! : Here

Enjoy reading!! ❤️

Chapter 17

They had ended up sitting around the large table in the dining room. Cassian had sat facing Luxiana, Azriel was to her left and Rhysand to her right, at the head of the table. Mor was next to Cassian and Amren was facing Rhysand.

The two blondes had been talking together for several minutes now. They hadn't stopped for a second, chatting about everything happily. So much that the three Illyrians hadn't been able to interrupt them for a single moment.

Mor loved Luxiana. She was full of life and so cute that she understood why her three best friends were obsessed with her from the beginning. Even if she hadn't been their soulmate, she would have understood that the three Illyrians liked her.

Amren had been staring at Luxiana nonstop since the beginning. Between sips, she swirled her wine glass in her hand. Outwardly, Amren looked calm and relaxed but her muscles were tense. She felt threatened. And although the blonde knew she was being spied on, she had only thrown Amren a small haughty smile, not even a little intimidated by the brunette's intense gaze. Amren couldn't help it. Something about this woman intrigued her to the highest degree. She had the impression that Luxiana could kill them all but at the same time, she gave that impression to be so fragile that she could just fall and break her neck. The brunette didn't know on which foot to dance on. It was strange.

Luxiana was in turmoil. She loved meeting new people especially when those people were women as powerful as Mor and Amren. She was a big fan. She gave Rhysand, Cassian and Azriel a tender look. They weren't like all the other Illyrians. They had surrounded themselves with warrior women and they seemed to regard them with respect. Of course, they seemed to regard Luxiana as weak and fragile but she could see that it wasn't mean.

Cassian had eyes only for Luxiana. He had rested his elbows on the table and cupped his face to look tenderly at his soulmate. She talked a lot, making a lot of expressions, making big gestures and laughing and Cassian liked every single thing she did. He just couldn't stop looking at her. He felt so good. Luxiana had just asked Mor how she had become a true warrior and she was listening to Rhys' cousin tell her story with a tilted head and an attentive face that reacted to each of Morrigan's words. Her expression was so cute that Cassian melted in his chair. He memorized his soulmate's face so much in his mind that unconsciously, he sent this memory to his brothers via their bonds.

Azriel listened intently to the exchange between Rhys' cousin and his soulmate but he only looked at Mor with suspicious narrowed eyes. She must not flirt with his mate. Was she even attracted to women? Damn, wouldn't he have noticed in those five hundred years if she didn't like men? Suddenly, he saw the image Cassian sent him. His breath caught in his throat. He turned his head towards his soulmate to see her make the same expression again. His heart skipped a beat. "I swear to you, there is no fucking way she would make that face anywhere but here and with anyone but us, is that clear?" he spat through their link.

Rhysand had a smile from ear to ear. He was leaning back on his chair and looking at the table in front of him with a swollen heart and bright eyes. He felt like he was fulfilled. He took a deep breath. His family. They were all there. And now that Luxiana was with them, he finally felt like he was missing nothing. Seeing in his mind what Cassian was showing him, he stared at Luxiana with a tender look. He looked her up and down without being able to stop, happily observing every perfect millimeter of his soulmate's skin. Then, at Azriel's possessive words, he held back a laugh by pursing his lips. He noticed out of the corner of his eye Cassian nodding discreetly to answer his brother but he said nothing. He would never have been able to prevent his soulmate from making any expression just out of jealousy. But, he was glad to know that Azriel wouldn't let his soulmate be so cute in front of someone else. It even suited him a little.

Mor explained what had happened to her. That her parents had wanted to force her to marry the son of the High Lord of the Autumn Court but that she had managed to have it annulled. She had not given Luxiana more details on how she had stopped it but the look she had given Cassian and the disapproving one he had returned by nodding his head from left to right to dissuade her from saying something, had explained it to Luxiana for them.

Luxiana's face had gradually faded, making her lose all trace of joy, forcing the three Illyrians -who noticed it with concern and disappointment- to understand what was happening by concentrating on what was said. Then Mor recounted that her parents had left her at the border of the Autumn Court with a note nailed to his stomach. Luxiana put her hand over her mouth to try to hide her fright while empathy and pure sadness sparkled in her eyes.

Cassian clenched his fists at the memories that stirred a mixture of anger, injustice, and guilt within him, "And when that bastard Eris found her, he didn't help her. He left her there, for dead in the middle of nowhere." Mor looked down and Rhysand and Azriel had their jaw muscles throbbing in their cheeks, signs of their clenched teeth.

But Luxiana's face changed completely. The horror and sadness left her to give way to confusion. She frowned as she blinked several times. "Eris did..." Everyone turned their gaze to her, she then stopped herself as she realized her familiarity. She shook her head to correct herself. "Um, the son of the Lord of the Autumn Court did that?"

Rhysand narrowed his eyes as he glanced at Azriel and Cassian. She had spoken of Eris as if she knew him. But there was no way that was the case. So why was she surprised by his cruelty? “Does that surprise you?”

Luxiana refrained from grimacing or reacting. "A little, because unlike you, I had never heard a bad rumor about him. On the contrary, in fact, he has a rather good reputation," she explained, sinking into a lie. Well, now she knew that Azriel could detect when people weren't telling the truth, so she convinced herself that she wasn't lying but more that she was only telling part of what she knew. "So, I thought that given how adorable you three are, he must be even more so."

The three Illyrians relaxed, confusion slipping from their expressions. Rhys smirked, “So you think we’re adorable?”

Luxiana gave him a half-open, tired look. Of all she had said, he had only remembered that. She rolled her eyes, smiling in spite of herself, proud to see that none of them had been able to detect that she was not telling everything. Then she turned back to Mor to resume the discussion, "How did you manage to get out of it after being left there?"

Mor smiled sadly as she turned a nostalgic look towards the Illyrian with the blue siphons who didn't even see her, too absorbed in observing Luxiana. The white-haired blonde intercepted the expression of Rhys' cousin, so she began to go back and forth between Azriel and Mor with her pupils. She understood that something had happened between the two of them too. "Azriel found me," Morrigan explained, "and since then, I've been living alongside Rhys."

Luxiana raised her eyebrows. She knew the Illyrian was a good spy and was therefore able to find anyone anywhere, but she also knew that the defenses of the Court of Autumn were nearly impenetrable. Suddenly, she realized. She had to suppress a smile of relief or even react at all. Eris must have weakened her court's protection spells to allow Azriel to find Morrigan. She knew he wasn't evil. Not her Eris. "I'm so sorry," Luxiana finally breathed.

Everyone stared at her intensely. Morrigan frowned. "Why would you be?" she asked, confused.

Luxiana leaned against her backrest. She pulled her knees up to press them against her chest and she put her feet on her seat, wrapping her arms around her calves. "What happened to you is awful. You seem like a good person Mor, you didn't deserve to go through this. But I'm sorry for something else. I'm sorry in advance for what I'm going to do to your parents to get you a revenge. Because believe me I'm going to find them and I'm going to break their bones."

Mor smiled softly as she lowered her head, blushing. It had been a long time since she had blushed, actually. She looked back at Luxiana tenderly, silently thanking her for her kind words.

The three Illyrians detailed their soulmate, smiling for Cassian, nodding from left to right with a disapproving look for Azriel and rolling their eyes for Rhysand. They thought she was cute to hear that she believed she was capable of avenging Mor but they were a little worried. Luxiana seemed really saddened for Rhys' cousin, as if what she had told was the most horrible and cruel thing Luxiana had ever heard. It worried them a little because they had just plunged her into a world where she would be surrounded by suffering permanently from now on, but at the same time, it relieved them. Their soulmate must have never lived or heard terrible stories. She must have been happy all her life and no one had ever hurt her. The hearts of the three Illyrians slowly lightened.

Then Luxiana cleared her throat as her electric blue irises flickered between the three males. "What about you?" She asked, suddenly curious. "How did you meet? Although all three of you are very hot, you're not biological brothers, right?"

Cassian burst out laughing because of the explosion of happiness that was bubbling in his chest. He wanted to jump around screaming because he was so happy to know that she found all three of them sexy.

Azriel smirked, a little proud. Their soulmate was intelligent and perceptive.

Rhysand looked at her tenderly, but a glint of haughty ego floated in his pupils. "It's a long story."

Luxiana dropped her feet to the ground to raise an eyebrow at Rhys and lean towards him. “Well, do we have something to do? I don’t think. So I’m listening.”

Azriel lost his smile to grimace for a second. "It's not a very pretty story to hear." He had seen how his soulmate had reacted to what had happened to Mor, how he had seen her heart break on her face or how empathetic she seemed. She seemed to take on the misfortunes of others when they weren't hers. And he didn't want his soulmate to feel sad, not for them. He wanted to make her happy.

Luxiana turned to Azriel, pouting imploringly like a child. She pushed her lower lip out a little more, looking at him intensely with ultra-dilated and bright pupils while blinking exaggeratedly.

Azriel's heart felt like it was melting in his chest at the sight of this cuteness. "I'm saying this for you." He sighed in resignation but swallowed hard despite himself. How did she manage to be even more adorable each time?

“But I want to know everything about you! Absolutely everything! From the day you were born until now,” she insisted, her eyebrows furrowed in determination. “I want to know who you really are.”

Cassian, Rhysand, and Azriel couldn't resist anymore. They wanted her to really know who they were, based on what they had experienced and not what she had heard about them because of the bad rumors. Azriel nodded, "fine but I would have warned you."

Amren frowned indignantly as she let out a strange sound. She slammed her fist on the table, “Are you really going to tell her everything? We don’t know if we can trust her.”

"Amren," Rhys growled with a stern look at her, forbidding her to continue.

Amren protested curtly, "Don't forget that her best friend is our enemy's wife. And if only that were all." The brunette began to look Luxiana up and down with an even more suspicious look. "She's..."

“I won’t say anything,” Luxiana interrupted before Amren could say too much. Then she turned her attention back to Rhys. “I won’t say anything, I promise. I just want to know everything about you so I can trust you. But I won’t say anything, not even to Feyre.” Suddenly, she had an idea. Her face was sincere and determined as she abruptly extended her pinky finger toward Rhysand. “Pinkie promise. You can’t break a pinkie promise.”

Cassian laughed softly with Mor and Azriel. Rhysand smiled tenderly. Then, although he did not believe the solemnity of this promise, he tangled Luxiana's little finger with his own, unable to refuse contact with her.

"What does tell us you won't break that promise?" Amren asked warily again with a hissing voice.

"I won't!" Luxiana was offended by the brunette's insistence. She was going to get angry but she didn't want to lose her cool. She huffed as she turned to the high lord. "You know what, you just have to create a magic pact between us! Something that would stipulate that if I tell anyone about what you're going to tell me, I'll die on the spot. I think you high lords can do that, right?"

Rhysand laughed, a soft, melodious sound. “I can, but I won’t. I trust you.”

Luxiana jumped up in her chair in surprise and joy, grabbing Azriel's arm and shoulder with both hands to hold on to something. But vibrating with an excitement she couldn't contain, she began to shake the Illyrian in all directions. She turned to Cassian with wide eyes and a broad smile without stopping to move Azriel. "The Lord of the Night Court trusts me," then she cried out a high-pitched sound.

Cassian, Rhysand and Mor burst out laughing at Luxiana's reaction and Azriel's, who let himself be shaken with a jaded look and eyes fixed on the ceiling. Then they ended up telling her everything. Really everything.

Rhysand first started by explaining who his parents were. Who his mother was and how his father had saved her wings. Luxiana's gaze began to sparkle with a thousand flaming lights and a tear, which she had not even felt, ran down her cheek. Rhysand stopped talking when he noticed it. He frowned in worry as he straightened up in his chair. "What's wrong?" He rushed his hand to his soulmate's face to wipe the tear from the back of his knuckles.

Azriel gritted his teeth. She was crying? He didn't like it. He didn't like it at all. "I told you so," he growled, "we should stop there."

“No, no, it’s nothing,” she smacked Azriel’s shoulder once, giving him a dark, disapproving look. Then she focused back on Rhysand, “I just think it’s really cute. Please, continue.”

Azriel glanced at Cassian who sighed and shook his head. Their soulmate seemed to feel everything multiplied. They had never seen anyone look so impacted by the story of someone they barely knew.

Rhysand continued. He explained about the relationship between his mother and father. That they didn't really love each other but that they were soulmates and that his mother had always been grateful to his father for saving her wings.

Luxiana nodded, she could understand her mother but she frowned nonetheless. "Is it possible? To have a soulmate and not love him? I mean, from what I know, it's the cauldron that binds two people together because they're made for each other, right? They're just made to match their soulmate."

Rhysand smiled tenderly, thinking she was right. He was even sure of it. Because Luxiana was perfect. She was made for him and he for her. "It's not that simple, many other factors come into play. And my father was not a good person, he was really cruel."

Luxiana could feel the apprehension and fear creeping up on her, freezing her cells. "Was he with you too?"

Rhysand gritted his teeth for a second as he looked down at the bad memories and Cassian and Azriel gave him an understanding look. Mor answered for his cousin with a voice full of resentment, "He was especially with him."

She closed her eyes in desolation, pursing her lips. No parent should be mean to their children. She imagined how he must have felt. How much he must have blamed himself for everything. How bad he must have felt in his own skin, weak and stupid for never having received his father's pride. He must have never felt good enough for anything because his father had never been able to give him affection. Luxiana's heart cracked.

But Rhysand continued his story. He explained that he and his mother had to go to an Illyrian camp -so he could train- where he had met Cassian.

Then the army commander took over to tell his own story. He explained what he knew about his parents, that he slept outside and had to fight for everything.

Luxiana grimaced in sadness, her chin twisting. He had been only a child and he had had to fend for himself. All alone. She imagined the evenings when in the cold, curled up on himself, he cried over the absence of his parents' love. His heart tore a little more in his chest, even hurting a little. Cassian spoke of all this with a smile on his lips and a proud face, but she could see that it was false and that deep down, he was still hurt. "You must have felt so alone," Luxiana remarked almost inaudibly, seeking comfort in Cassian's tender eyes.

The Illyrian, seeing her distress, tried to comfort her. He then told her about the time he had met Rhys and how he had beaten him out but that despite that, Rhys and his mother had invited her to sleep at his place.

Luxiana gave the high lord an affectionate and admiring glance. So he was that kind?

Then they continued explaining that they had then met Azriel and that, although at first they hated each other, as they were not loved by anyone, they started making an alliance and even ended up liking each other.

Luxiana turned to Azriel, waiting for him to talk about his childhood, but he didn't. "What about you? What happened before you met them?"

Mor looked back and forth between the spymaster and Luxiana, huffing as he struggled for words. "Azriel doesn't like to talk about it much."

Luxiana glanced at the blonde, realizing that Azriel must not have had a happy childhood either. She swallowed loudly in apprehension as she turned fully to him, "You really don't want to talk about it?"

“No,” Azriel said, looking down at his soulmate with shining eyes. She looked so worried and anxious. He didn’t want to tell her, but he knew it would have been worse for her not to know. She would imagine even worse things. “But I’ll tell you. I’ll always tell you what you want to know anyway.”

Luxiana was biting the inside of her lower lip to keep from blushing.

Azriel looked at her for a second with a proud smile, noticing her confusion before beginning to tell her that he was the son of an Illyrian lord and a commoner. He explained to her that he lived with his in-laws and that his mother-in-law kept him locked up in a dark cell where he was only allowed to go out for an hour a day. He had neither the right to fly nor the right to live.

Luxiana clenched her teeth so hard that her cheeks hurt. She, who had some hope that the spymaster's childhood would be less terrible, now had a completely upset stomach. They forbade him from flying. How horrible to have wings and not be able to use them. She imagined him curled up in a dark corner of his cell. Her heart felt like it was being crushed in a fist. She opened her eyes again, holding back her tears but placed her pupils on Azriel's hand on his thigh. She grabbed his fingers delicately to bring his arm closer to her and look at his scars more specifically. She began to caress the burn marks on his skin with the tips of her fingerprints. "Is that where you got that?"

Azriel watched her do it with a tilted head, observing her reactions with curiosity, learning what kind of person she was. He nodded slowly, explaining to her about his half brothers who had set his hands on fire.

Luxiana wanted to throw up. How could anyone be so cruel? Well, how could anyone be so cruel to an innocent child? She knew why people were cruel… Because she was going to be cruel herself -as she had been many times before- to avenge the three Illyrians and Morrigan.

Then Azriel ended up adding that at eleven years old, he was released into the Illyrian camp of Cassain and Rhysand where his mother had also adopted him.

Then the high lord explained about his sister and mother and Tamlin's betrayal. Then he went on to talk about the war and his father who had recruited him, Azriel and Cassian but who had separated them. Rhysand vaguely recounted the atrocities they had seen and experienced during that time. Then he tensed up, the atmosphere getting a little heavier. He explained that he had been captured by Amarantha's soldiers towards the end of the war and that they had beaten and tortured him.

Luxiana's breathing was precarious. She pursed her lips as she swallowed with difficulty, her heart felt like it was tearing into a thousand pieces. She knew so much what it felt like that it hurt her to hear that someone else had experienced this. Her eyes burned but she did everything not to cry knowing that Azriel would want to stop them from continuing.

As Luxiana was facing Rhysand, her back to Azriel, the latter, sensing her discomfort, narrowed his eyes as he leaned towards her to see her face. But when Luxiana caught sight of him out of the corner of her eye, she hid herself by turning her head a little more. The master spy understood. "You want to cry," he remarked with a slightly tired look.

Luxiana shook her head sharply, "no..." she said in a much higher pitched voice than usual.

Azriel gave him a disapproving look, and Cassian scoffed, chuckling. But Rhysand reached up to grab his soulmate's face and turn it toward him. "They didn't break me," he added firmly to reassure her. "They didn't know that since I was Illyrian, all they had to do to destroy me was to cut my wings."

Luxiana's face contorted further, her chin quivering, her lips pursed and her dimples protruding. She rolled her eyes to stop herself from crying. Their stories brought back so many bad memories for Luxiana, she couldn't help but feel as bad as she had felt. His wings. Her wings. "How did you get out of there?" she asked, hoping to think of something else and change the subject. Rhysand released her.

Azriel sensing his soulmate's distress sighed but said nothing. His heart ached for her. Or maybe it was the weak bond that already united him to her and that allowed him to feel what she felt. In a comforting gesture, he placed his palm on Luxiana's back then gently moved it up in a caress to her neck, which he gently gripped to massage it.

Luxiana gave him a look filled with surprise and then gratitude, silently thanking him while smiling at him. Then Rhysand continued. He explained to her about Jurian, and about Amarantha's sister. He told her about the fight that the general of the human armies had led against the fae. Then how the redhead had made Jurian suffer for that.

Luxiana clenched her fists on her thighs, grabbing the lace of her dress with her fingers. She knew Jurian well and remembering what Amarantha had done to him filled her with anger.

Rhysand added that his father had found him but as punishment for allowing himself to be captured, he had ordered that the ash stakes be left in his wings.

Luxiana slid down on her chair, leaning back a little more. She was seething with anger, so much that she was dying of heat. How could a father do that to his child? Luxiana knew how much it hurt to injure the Illyrians' wings, they were so sensitive. She cursed Rhysand's father with all her might. She was mad with rage.

The High Lord of the Night Court continued on Amarantha. He spoke of the assassination attempts he had planned against her because he found it unfair that she was not punished. And he came to the moment when he had been imprisoned under the mountain. The room became silent, the atmosphere heavy, hunching everyone's shoulders and making them lower their heads. Luxiana could see the guilt on the faces of Rhysand's friends. They would have liked to help him, to accompany him. But Rhysand had sacrificed himself for them.

She looked at the brown-haired fae with purple eyes who had remained evasive. "What happened to you under the mountain?" She suspected what Amarantha had done to him but she wanted so badly for him to tell her something else.

Rhysand smiled sadly. “Things I’d rather forget. Things I wouldn’t tell anyone about, least of all to you.” They looked at each other in silence for a second.

Cassian took a deep breath, apprehension gnawing at him. “Now you know our story. You know everything. So what do you think of us?”

Luxiana's breathing was rapid. No matter how hard she tried to hide it, she wasn't feeling well. Her heart was pounding wildly in her chest and only the adrenaline coursing through her veins kept her from crying. They had all been through horrors here. Yet, they all seemed so kind. She felt so sad for them. She placed her hand on Rhys' forearm on the table, squeezing it gently in a comforting gesture. Then she crossed her arms. "Okay so I have three questions," seeing that everyone was listening attentively, she continued. "Number one," she turned to Rhysand, "is your father dead? And you better tell me he 's dead because if you don't , I'm going to kill him and that could cause a lot of trouble for a lot of people."

Everyone laughed -except Amren- not suspecting for a second that she could compete against the power of the former high lord. When she could. She could reduce all the high lords to nothing all in one same time. Rhysand raised an eyebrow, pleasantly surprised by his soulmate's words. "He is," he confirmed with a nod.

“Finally some good news,” she breathed, somewhat reassured. “Then, second question,” she turned to Cassian. “Did you beat the shit out of all the Illyrians who doubted you?”

Cassian smiled proudly, lifting his chin, "of course I do."

"Great! Another few people off the list," she exclaimed, making the others laugh. Then she turned to Azirel. "Last question, did you make your mother-in-law and brothers-in-law pay for what they did to you?"

Azriel nodded slowly from left to right. “I don’t want anything to do with them anymore.”

Luxiana gritted her teeth, she didn't like that answer. She was going to burn everything. "Well, that makes," she started counting on her fingers, "Mor's parents, Azriel's brothers and mother-in-law, a few Illyrians just for fun and to go shit on Rhysand's father's grave. Phew, I'm going to have work."

They all laughed heartily -even Amren who smiled softly- and despite everything, their laughter soothed Luxiana.

"She's crazy, I love her!" Mor yelled, banging on the table.

They all calmed down gradually. "Your turn," Cassian finally said, crossing his arms and leaning back against his chair. Luxiana tilted her head questioningly. "It's your turn to tell us about your childhood. You know everything about us, now we want to know everything about you."

[tswaney17]

Eternal Consolation Prize

@elriel-month | Powers & Possibilities

I've had this idea in my head since reading HOFAS (iykyk), and I'm so excited to share this one with you. Feysand are villains in this one, don't at me. It just made an interesting twist.

My fanfic account: @tswaney17fics​​​

My ao3 account: tswaney17

Please let me know what you think about this update. I love getting your feedback. Constructive criticism is always welcome. 💕

Trigger warnings: Some angst and canon-compliant violence

Word Count: 2,196

This fic will be posted on AO3 only. Read the beginning below or click here to head to AO3.

Elain had thought she had known true fear. Thought she’d faced the worst of it when she’d been stolen in the night and forced into the Cauldron against her will, ultimately fucking up her entire life when she was turned.

She thought she felt it again when the Cauldron had lured her into the heart of Hybern’s camp, believing she’d never see her family again. That those monsters would do the worst to her.

Then she thought she felt it when she saw Nesta and Cassian before the King, seconds from death, only to be saved by her stepping out of a shadow and using Truthteller to deliver the killing blow to the now-dead King.

In the short lifespan of her Fae life, Elain had faced death and fear like a second skin and walked away. Somehow, she walked away.

But not this. There would be no walking away from the invisible shackles her court, her family, had thrust upon her. Words were being spoken, but she couldn’t hear them.

She was suffocating within her mind.

Read More

~~~~~

Remember, sharing is caring! Please reblog if you liked the fic. It helps spread my work and I truly appreciate it. 💕

While I have moved most of my fics to AO3 only, I am still going to utilize a tag list here on Tumblr. This as a permanent solution and may change in the future. For notifications, you can follow and subscribe to my fanfic account where I will be reblogging updates and snippets only. You can also find me on ao3. If you would like to be added to my tag list, please leave a comment on this post.

My fanfic account: @tswaney17fics​

My ao3 account: tswaney17

Taglist: 

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Some tags seem to not want to link, which could be related to your visibility settings. Sorry about that!

[noctusfury]

Dragon Flyer Ranks (RTTE)

Hello, everyone. Welcome to another HTTYD/RTTE article. This is the final piece to my series about Dragon Flyer hierarchy and military structure (Dragon Skins, Elite, Hierarchy). In this post, I'll be sharing what I think the ranks would be had the Dragon Flyers been allowed to expand into a larger organization, similar to the Dragon Hunters.

As you know from the Hierarchy post, I believe that Flyers are ranked according to their dragon skins. Those wearing Zippleback skins are elites, those wearing gold dragon skins are veterans, those wearing Nightmare skins and Nadder wing skirts are juniors, and those wearing nothing but badly tanned dragon skins are rankers.

And as you know from the chart below, the hierarchy is as follows:

Krogan > Disciples (12 Best Warriors) > Regular Flyers > Recruits

The hierarchy and ranking system were originally rather simple and straightforward since the unit wasn't very large—it probably wasn't past 20 Flyers in the beginning.

However, if the organization becomes larger—for example, 50-100 Flyers—a more intricate ranking system will be needed.

Here is what I think the ranks could be. I even made some cool edits for this occasion. 😎

Krogan: Thunder Lord / Thunder Chieftain

The top-most rank is, naturally, Thunder Lord or Thunder Chieftain, which Krogan possesses as the head of the Dragon Flyers. It could be compared to a Headmaster of a Knight Order or a Group Leader of a Fighter Group in modern terms. Thunder Master could very well be another excellent coinage of this position.

As expected, this position oversees all Flyers and their squadrons and flight-pairs.

Thunder Captain / Flyer Leader

Thunder Captain, or just Flyer Leader, is the second-in-command of the Thunder Chieftain (or Krogan), just like our Flyer Leader above. His job is to carry out his orders, command the Chief's personal squadron, the "Deadly Dozen", and oversee any projects or missions entrusted by Krogan.

He also oversees the other Squadron/Flight Leaders under him. They choose someone for this rank from the Elite Flyers, particularly the "Deadly Dozen".

Thunder Master

Thunder Master is a rank similar to the medieval Master-at-Arms or the modern rank Sergeant Major. They directly receive orders from Krogan and are responsible for managing the briefings and mission assignments for the Flyers.

As such, they hold a higher position than even the squadron and flight leaders since they directly receive directions from Krogan to delegate mission assignments to certain units.

The Thunder Master is also responsible for the training of recruits before integrating them into the Dragon Flyer organization.

Flyers who gain these two ranks are often from the Master / Veteran Flyer ranks (Goldskins). What distinguishes them from the others is their orange dragon-skins and pauldrons.

Thunder Master's Wingman

Thunder Master's Wingman is the Thunder Master's subordinate and helps him with various administrative tasks and also helps train the recruits whenever the Thunder Master isn't around. In fact, this guy is mostly responsible for this responsibility as the organization gets bigger and Krogan and the other higher-ups don't have time for training them personally.

The Wingman takes over the Thunder Master's responsibilities if he is absent or is killed. He also, true to his rank, is the Thunder Master's wingman in battle and watches his back.

This rank also oversees other wingmen of lower ranks.

The Wingman is unique in that he wears his pauldron on his left shoulder instead of his right shoulder like the Second Claw Flyers.

Elite Flyers

Spots in Krogan's personal squadron, the "Deadly Dozen," are always guaranteed to Flyers of this rank. They are among the best of the best in the Dragon Flyers and also always assumed to promise a fierce fight to any who claim to be enemies of the Flyers and Krogan. Flyers of this rank are not only Krogan's most loyal warriors but are the most fanatic, viewing the total annihilation of dragons as the most righteous of causes.

This rank is further separated into three parts:

Elite Flyer, Third Claw

Elite Flyer Third Claw is the top-most rank in the Flyer Organization, aside from Flyer Leader and Thunder Chieftain. These Flyers are guarantees to the positions of Flyer Leader and Squadron and Flight Leaders, though other ranks can have these positions as well. They are also shoe-ins for the "Deadly Dozen" squadron.

They make up 20% of the Elite Flyers in this class.

Their Nightmare-skin skirt and two spiked pauldrons distinguish them from other ranks.

The Flyer Leader, Krogan's lieutenant, has this rank.

Elite Flyer, Second Claw

Elite Flyer Second Claw is the second-most senior rank in the organization. Unlike those of the Third Claw, these Flyers only have one spiked pauldron and nothing else that's distinguishable. (Take notice that from here on, all Flyers with the Second Claw rank will have one pauldron on their right shoulder, unlike the Thunder Master's Wingman, who wears it on his left shoulder.)

Flyers of this rank make up 10% of this class.

Elite Flyer, First Claw

Elite Flyer First Claw, the lowest rank of the Elite Flyers, is still above most and is the entry level of the Elite Flyer class. Unlike the previous two ranks, this Flyer rank has no distinguishing trappings aside from their Zippleback-skin tunic. 70% of Elite Flyers are of this rank.

Master / Veteran Flyers

Like the Elite Flyers, Flyers of this group are always guaranteed spots in Krogan's squadron and are often chosen as Squadron Leaders or Flight Leaders, usually the latter.

Similar to the Roman Centurion or NCO rank (1700-20XX), these Flyers form the backbone of the Dragon Flyers, making up about roughly 45% of the organization. The highest rank they can go is Thunder Master and Thunder Master's Wingman.

People of this rank, like Elite Flyers, are known for their loyalty to Krogan and their fanatical zeal and cruelty in wiping out the dragons.

These Flyers are unique in wearing yellow dragon skins, Gronkle-skin vambraces, and a helmet with only one horn instead of the usual three. They also lack a dragonskin kilt. They are known for wearing footprint-shaped markings on their faces and helmets.

Master Flyer, Third Claw

Master Flyer Third Claw is the top-most rank in this class. They always pick candidates for the Thunder Master position from this rank. And, if they're lucky, they can graduate to the Elite Flyer class.

Squadron Leaders can be chosen from among these Flyers.

The Flyers in this class can be distinguished by their pauldrons (or lack thereof). In this case, Third Claw Master Flyers wear two spiked pauldrons.

This rank makes up 10% of the Master Flyers in this class.

Master Flyer, Second Claw

Master Flyer Second Claw is the second-most rank in this class, making up 10% of Master Flyers in this class. Like other Second Claws, this rank also wears one spiked pauldron on their right shoulder.

Members of this rank are eligible to attain the Thunder Master or Thunder Master Wingman positions.

Master Flyer, First Claw

Master Flyer First Claw is the lowest rank of this class, but the most common, making up 80% of the Master Flyers in this class. They often make up the Flight Leaders and Senior Flyers of pair-units.

Junior / Senior Flyers

The lowest among the ranks and classes in the Dragon Flyer organization, their crudely tanned dragon skin clothes and white war paint sets them apart from the others.

These Flyers also make up the ranks of the wingman positions in wing and flight units.

Junior Flyer, Third Claw / Senior Flyers

Junior Flyer Third Claw, also known as Senior Flyer, is a rare rank, only making up 3% of the Flyers in this class. They are also the most senior and experienced Flyers making up this class. As a result, they quickly join the Master Flyer classes not long after they get this rank.

Their rank is shown by wearing two pauldrons, a Nadder-wing kilt, and two Monstrous Nightmare-skin vambraces.

Junior Flyer, Second Claw

Junior Flyer Second Claw is the second highest rank in this class and the most common rank, making up 57% of the Junior Flyers in this class.

They often fill wingman positions in wing (two-Flyer) and flight (four-Flyer) units.

What marks their rank is one spiked pauldron on their right shoulder, like all Second Claws. They also wear a Nadder-wing kilt, slightly better quality Nightmare-skin tunics, and one Nightmare-skin vambrace.

Junior Flyer, First Claw / Fledglings

Junior Flyer First Claw, also known as a "Fledgling," is the lowest of both rank and class in the thunder, second only to Recruit. They make up 40% of all Junior Flyers in this class.

They are the least experienced, trained, and indoctrinated out of all the Flyers, causing them to be the first to panic or flee if something doesn't go their way; they wear nothing of distinction and lack any accomplishments or battle honors, wearing dragon skins of mediocre quality. The best of this rank can eventually earn themselves a Nightmare-skin vambrace.

The Bottom-Feeders

Recruits, often demeaningly called "Stubs" (wingless dragons incapable of flight), are the lowest and bottom-most rank of all Flyers in the thunderband.

The organization integrates these recruits into their ranks, who are fresh and ready for training and indoctrination. They get trained by the Thunder Master and his Wingman in the ways of the Dragon Flyer and help them learn to fly their Singetail companions without issue. If they're unavailable, then either an Elite Flyer or Master Flyer comes to train them.

They are given low-quality dragon skins and gear.

We can summarize the ranks and hierarchy of the Dragon Flyers like this:

The positions can be further summarized with the highest position on the left and the lowest on the right:

Thunder Chieftain (Krogan) > Flyer Leader / Thunder Captains > The Deadly Dozen > Thunder Lieutenants >Thunder Master > Thunder Master's Wingman > Squadron Captains > Flight Captains > Wing Leaders / Senior Flyers > Regular Flyers > Recruits.

<><><><><>

Conclusion

These are the ranks that I believe might and could exist if the Dragon Flyers had been allowed to expand their organization further.

Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed this what-if article. Have a wonderful Wednesday.

Long Live the Night!

— Noctus Fury

[desmon1995]

No Way Out of the Bronx: The Turnbulls and the Whisper of the White Lie

I've been listening more to one of my top three numbers of the Warriors soundtrack which is as you can guess by the title "Can't leave the Bronx Alive".

I feel like out of almost any number this one essentially sells the theme of the album incredibly well, and it makes sense that it is not too long after Derailed (since thematically this is where the big white lie happens).

The Turnbull ACs serve as the first true obstacle the Warriors face, and they are unquestionably the most ferocious.

Depicted as an all-male Puerto Rican gang, they make an imposing entrance, cruising the streets in a large school bus, armed to the teeth with knives, bats, and even firearms. Their aggression is rooted in a profound sense of loss and rage following the tragic murder of Lady Cyrus.

However, instead of channeling their grief into preserving the unity and vision Cyrus advocated for, they become ensnared by Luther's manipulative lies. Consumed by vengeance, they abandon Cyrus's dream of solidarity and instead focus their fury on the Warriors, becoming pawns in Luther’s sinister agenda.

What stands out immediately is how the gender dynamics are already beginning to shift, creating an atmosphere of deeply unsettling fear. The Turnbull ACs don’t approach the Warriors as they would a traditional male gang like the Furies. Instead, they weaponize their masculinity in grotesque ways, circling the Warriors in their bus while hurling catcalls and crude sexual innuendos. This escalates into a chilling suggestion of revenge rape, a disturbing hyperbole that catches the Warriors completely off-guard. At first, the surreal and grotesque behavior leaves the Warriors momentarily disoriented, unsure of how to process what they’re facing. But the moment of hesitation is fleeting as the Turnbulls abruptly shift from psychological torment to raw physical pursuit. The gang locks in, revving their bus engines, and transforms the Bronx into a chaotic, high-stakes battleground in a Mad Max-style chase, pushing the Warriors to their limits in a desperate fight for survival.

Throughout the song, the Turnbull ACs assert their dominance with venom-laced proclamations like "You better come here when I whistle," or "You look like cute little cakes, and I want to take a slice, if you dare." These lines, delivered within the deceptively playful rhythm of a salsa number, are a thin veneer for their deeper malice, reflecting a predatory attempt to assert control. Their repeated accusations of the Warriors as “killers” further heighten the tension, underscoring their pent-up anger and resentment.

This behavior prompts a critical question: Were the Warriors ever truly welcome at the summit? Or was their presence, like Cyrus’s message, never meant to be embraced by the gangs in attendance? The Turnbulls’ aggression hints at an inherent division within the marginalized groups, making it seem as though unity is more fragile than it initially appeared.

What’s chilling is how grounded in reality this all feels. The dynamics at play are not fictional but deeply rooted in the historical realities of colonialism, which frequently employed patriarchy as a tool to "divide and conquer." This patriarchal framework, often inherited from European influences, has survived and flourished within marginalized communities as a means of creating a false sense of control. As noted by Oxfam, harmful beliefs rooted in patriarchy continue to perpetuate violence and division among those already disenfranchised. (Oxfam source)

For the Turnbulls, Cyrus, as a woman of power and influence, represented a rare source of hope in their otherwise oppressive existence. Her death wasn't just a tragic loss, but a painful reminder of the brutal conditions they endure. Rather than addressing these systemic issues, the Turnbulls lash out, taking their grief and frustration out on the Warriors, a group they perceive as beneath them. In doing so, they abandon Cyrus’s vision and instead perpetuate the same cycles of oppression that continue to marginalize them.

The unfortunate truth that this song reveals is that true progress is far more elusive than most of us advocating for progressivism would like to admit.

Even within these groups, there are deeper layers of disenfranchisement, where individuals may be relegated to subgroups that are not only overlooked but actively excluded from the larger movement. These individuals, due to traditional societal norms, are sometimes viewed as unworthy of participation in the broader struggle for change.

The Warriors being and all female gang is one thing but they're all subversive especially towards a 1970s ideology.

Some of them are masculine presenting, others are outwardly queer, Fox in particular does not match the stereotypes associated with Asian women of the time, and Cleon is a Black leader which America has still not been able to reconcile with even in a post Obama world.

You could even argue, that Cleon it's probably seen as the most dangerous of the group anyways because that's history is shown men, even those from marginalized communities would rather just have old white people being charged that actually putting a female or LGBTQ+ member in charge of what they consider to be a position of power.

The Turnbulls are the definition of looking for easy answers to complicated issues and in a moment of intense fashion buy into sociopolitical lies to accuse the other within their own community for the problems that they most likely deep down no are not their fault.

At the end of the song, the turnbulls are basically left looking like stilted mannequins as the Warriors managed to board the subway before getting ran over or worse, and the bulls are left lamenting their disposition in life.

The event is pretty traumatic that even the usual boisterous Ajax is what physically shook before bouncing back, and arguably this ends up building up more and more as they encounter more gangs with similar dispositions even though the misogyny and bigotry come in different flavors.

This is actually a remake of one of my earlier posts from last year, and I figured that since today is the inauguration of djt, I think it's important to reflect on progress and intersectionality to the best of my abilities as we reflect on what these next few years are going to look like.

Full disclosure, I'm a black man, but my sister is a lesbian, and she and her partner stay with me and even with my own disposition in life I know that the things they have to face is even harder, so I wanted to dedicate this rigid day along with this post to them instead of you know who.

[lorimnnn]

Hiii! May I request something for Kazan Yamaoka?

During a match at the Yamaoka Estate where Kazan sees from a distance survivor reader is gonna go to a gen that's in one of the houses but she catches herself before she steps inside. She takes her shoes off and leaves them at the door before going to the gen. Despite it being a realm different from the real world she still respects Japanese culture. And she does this every time she goes through any houses in his realm.

Idk I'm just curious how Kazan would react to this since none of the other survivors or killers (besides him maybe) respect this. But if not that's totally ok!

omg, I can't explain how much I love this request! I know it took me ages but I'm here! I'm looking to write more on Kazan because there's hardly anything on him.

☆…☆…☆…☆…☆…☆☆…☆…☆…☆…☆…☆☆…☆…☆…☆…☆…☆

warnings: canon-typical violence and gore, life-threatening situations, swearing, i hate editing so obviously it's not edited but i'll probably go over it one day

trope summary: fluff, slow-burn

☆…☆…☆…☆…☆…☆☆…☆…☆…☆…☆…☆☆…☆…☆…☆…☆…☆

You were the last one left. Did you know that?

It had never crossed your mind--- so no, you didn't. You had learned long ago not to care about those types of things when you were facing killers like The Oni. He was a devourer. Your teammates never stood a chance to begin with.

But you didn't know that.

The first time The Entity threw you into The Oni's world, you took off running. That's what your other teammates did, anyway. There had been a collective groan when the fog cleared and you all came to terms with where you were--- then a grim caress of fear that seemed to possess all of you. The sight of your teammates so flighty had struck you the wrong way and you weren't going to go about asking questions about it.

The primal roar in the distance said all that you needed to know.

What was this place, anyway?

It was like you'd time-travelled to Edo-era Japan. It was beautiful and antique and you'd never seen anything quite like it. But you'd always wanted to travel to Japan.

The Entity took that chance away from you.

You found yourself reminiscing over all those lost opportunities. You were never going to get them back. You should've gone even when you were sure you were going to be dirt poor afterwards. You should have taken the chance and travelled everywhere as soon as you got the money for it. You didn't even know what you were saving for. Everyone else was doing it, so you supposed you were supposed to as well. But what was the point of having so much money if you couldn't even use it to buy the things that would make you happy?

If you could go back, you would leap at the chance to travel somewhere here. But you supposed that 'here' wouldn't really exist in the real world. Not like this. Not at the peak of it's grandeur.

Ha! The irony.

Could you even call this a privilege when you were only here to die?

You heard Kate cry out in the distance. You flinched; you needed to wake up. Work on some gens. You were still running aimlessly, trying to get away---

Kate had just died, and here you were.

Admiring the scenery.

Idiot.

You'd always been little airy-fairy. Not quite there, sometimes too much in the moment, sometimes a little too far off. It meant you had a lot of delayed reactions, such as now.

Right now, you needed to be thinking of how to stay alive and keep your teammates that way, too.

So you headed for the house, running faster than ever. The doors were open and you could already see the gen.

"Quick," you muttered to yourself.

Before he catches up to you.

You hadn't seen The Oni, but you'd heard stories about him. Gruesome stories of his brutal, unforgiving nature, his mistaken dignity and honour. A true warrior who had been corrupted by his blood thirst.

You wondered how a samurai of all things learned such villainy. Weren't they all about honour? That's what you'd read in your books, at least. Now you weren't so sure.

Before entering the house with the gen in sight, you paused. You know you shouldn't of. You know that he was the last person in this hellish world deserving of respect when he was literally out killing all of you, but---

But this was different.

"It's the bare minimum," you reassured yourself. It helped comfort your warring fear that you were crazy. That you were empathising with a killer.

You took off your shoes and aligned them neatly outside before heading in and working the gen.

~

Too easy.

It was all too easy. Sometimes so much so that it got boring very quickly--- the same chase, the same screams, the same mindless fury that Entity infused him with. It wasn't as though he cared about the survivors in any way. He couldn't care less if they had families, let alone worth it personalities. But there was no more motive behind the kills. No more drive.

It was the ultimate disgrace to his honour---

But if Kazan admitted that, what would the Entity do?

It would be an insult. It would risk his life and extended existence, and there was so much he hadn't done yet. So much he was already doing that he had vowed to finish. One day the Entity would release him and he would resume his life and old purpose. Or maybe he would start all over again and honour his father better.

That was his secret hope.

You were the last survivor. He hadn't met you yet. Hadn't even heard of you, but he knew that you weren't fresh of the boat if you had eluded him so easily. You must have heard things or been smart to ask if it meant that it was your first instinct to run.

"Shoes...?" He muttered to himself.

He could hear you working on the gen. You were so diligent. So focused.

So naive--- how had you not heard him?

Well, Kazan had been taking his time with you. He didn't attempt to be quiet often. The kills were usually so quick that it didn't even matter. He was fast and they were prey and he would consume them before they even knew they were food.

But that was a thought for another day, because---

Because---

You had put your shoes outside. You had set them up neatly. It was a custom he had almost forgotten about and learned not to apply to the survivors. He never bothered to hold it against them, either. In this game of life and death, customary traditions were the last of any of their worries, even his.

And yet you had remembered.

Something dead twitched in his cold, hollow heart. It was small, but so significant that it barrelled into him--- a short breath escaped him in a husky puff.

Warmth.

He was feeling... warmth.

He looked up from your shoes. He watched you gently, the hardness receding from his gaze for that moment alone--- he observed your fixated frown, the nimble work of your fingers, the way you were still too absorbed to notice him...

Kill.

The Entity's voice startled him, even if it didn't show. It had been a while since she had spoke to him at all, and it was only at the start when he'd been summoned to this cruel arena of death.

Her voice was sharp. Cutting.

A warning.

Kill.

Was this all they were meant to do? To kill and consume, to die and be reborn, only for the cycle to continue until the end of eternity?

Could he really kill you now?

He would never admit it. Not allowed, unless he wanted to die. But the Entity's voice, it had disgusted him. It probably knew that. Somehow, even a fraction of his hesitance had amounted into something significant enough for the Entity to speak--- it knew all.

It knew he wanted to spare you, just for this small gesture.

But it knew he wouldn't.

Kazan killed you in cold blood.

He thought about you long after.

~

The Oni was said to roar when he killed. It was loud and brutal and everyone knew about it--- you became a sacrifice in his hands, and you died with honour.

Did he hate you?

Why had he killed you so silently?

One moment you had been working on the gen. The next you were dead. All you saw was a flash of a grotesque mask. It was drenched in blood but you were still able to make out the curving and elongated features of it, the bright red eyes that shone through and burned through your soul. You hadn't even had time to scream. To feel scared. He had grabbed you and killed you from behind and all you'd seen was the blur that the last seconds of living had afforded you--- in that way, you felt betrayed.

Had you insulted him by doing what you had thought would appease him?

You hadn't even intended to win his favour. That gesture had been out of respect for his culture. It had been more for you than anything.

Did he think you were shitting on his culture instead? What the fuck?

You were more angry about it than you had right to be. Jake was out doing his alone-time things in the woods when you bumped into him, kicking twigs and punching trees.

"Are you okay?"

"Fine," you grumbled. Jake didn't believe you, and you were terrible at hiding things. You sighed. "I hate killers! I hate them! What the fuck!"

Jake's usually impassive face betrayed the hint of a smile. "I know."

"Why are they such heartless pains in the ass?"

"They're built that way."

"Were they not people, once upon a time?"

"Hardly." Jake shrugged. He tried to end the conversation there, but you kept following him around and eventually he was forced to sit when you clung to his sleeve. "They have inhuman backstories. So I've heard."

"And what's The Oni's?"

Jake snorted. "He's bothering you?"

"Is it that unbelievable?"

"He's not worth a backstory," Jake said. "Trust me. He's purely in it for the kill."

Somehow, that made you angrier.

You clung to Jake's sleeve harder when he tried to stand, and he looked at you, slightly irritated.

"Can I go now?"

"No," you said flatly.

"What do you want?"

You stopped. He sighed.

You let go of his sleeve and sat there, fighting tears. They fell anyway.

~

Kazan didn't understand you.

You didn't understand Kazan.

You kept unintentionally respecting him, and he kept killing you. he didn't really know how to react, actually. You were too...

Too-

Too kind.

He caught himself stalking you outside of trials. He covered it up by banging on the boundary that separated the killers from the victims and acting like he was trying to come after you. At first you were scared. He regretted scaring you.

Kazan did it again and again anyway. It had been a while since he'd felt anything. The more trials he had with you, the more things he was left to grapple with. He hated it.

He yearned for it.

So he kept seeking you out.

You were kind. A bit stupid--- how could you not see how the other survivors abused your purpose and skillset? Or did you know? Why did you let it happen if you knew?

You seemed to like the other survivors, though. He couldn't understand why.

He quickly learned that you were sentimental. Ah. That made sense. No wonder you bothered with things such as cultural customs.

Sentimental was not good. It meant emotional.

To be emotional in a place like this was to kill yourself over and over, and everyone knew it. It had established the natural order of kill or be killed. Survive or die. And yet you were there, uprooting it.

No wonder everyone borderline disliked you. You showed too much interest in doing more, being more. Connecting.

How long had it been since he'd connected?

He supposed he had Rin. His descendant. But that was a bit different, wasn't it?

"What the fuck is your problem?" You'd yelled out once. You'd startled him by coming right up to the boundary and screaming in his face--- he'd stopped trying to break it just to let you speak. "What the fuck do you want? Why do you want to kill me so bad? Are you okay? Are you good?" You paused to take a breath. You were panting, hot in the cheeks, sweat beginning to bead in your hairline. "Are you fucking okay?"

He should have been angry. Who gave you the right to talk to him in such a way?

Who?

Who gave you a right to make him feel like this?

Feel anything?

And who the fuck gave you the right to make him feel bad of all things when he caught you crying?

He wouldn't have seen them if you hadn't turned your head that slightest angle, the sun hitting the thing glaze of your tears. They were shining.

You seemed to realise you were about to fall apart the same time he did and retreated. Why were you embarrassed?

Why was he contradicting himself?

Kazan watched you run away into the woods. He growled when he saw that black haired one who often pretended to ignore you sigh to himself and then run after you.

He shouldn't have stalked the both of you as far as the barrier allowed him to. Shouldn't have hid when he heard you sobbing out loud, shouldn't have stayed hidden when that stupid survivor took you into his arms--- pretending to hate it--- and let you cry there as he battled with his red cheeks.

The next time he had a trial with Jake Park, he brutalised him again and again.

Jake didn't know why, of course. And would The Oni ever tell him?

No.

Because how would he even begin to explain what he was feeling when he didn't even know himself?

~

You'd had enough.

The Oni had made you his obsession over and over, saving you for last. It had made his kills twice as brutal and twice as painful because know you were always ready for them.

And recently he'd been coming on to you with a vengeance, like you'd done something wrong.

You were going to sort this out for once and for all. Somewhere along the way it had become incredibly personal and this undiscovered connection and had become intimate, even if it was mostly comprised of him killing you for more than just that, killing you. Somehow that alone made it all the more emotional, all the more addictive.

You couldn't run away; there was nowhere to go.

So the next time you had a chance, you went to his realm on your own. You hunted him down and yelled in his face--- he hadn't expected you, clearly.

He had been meditating in his temple and suddenly you had come flying out of nowhere.

"Why are you doing this?" You shouted. "Why do you keep doing this? I don't get it. What have I done to hurt you so personally?"

The Oni scrambled--- ungracefully-- to his feet and stood up.

"Are you seriously going to kill me again?" you wailed. "Outside of a trial of all things? I just came to talk! Because you're a bully! A mean fucking bully!"

The Oni hesitated, his hand uncurling from his katana.

"I hate you!" You yelled.

He said nothing. Of course he did.

Now you just felt embarrassed.

"I hope I never get put in a trial with you ever again!"

That prompted the Oni to take a step closer to you. You were already walking away, though, and was surprised to find the Oni close behind, trailing at a modest distance away. You walked faster. So did he.

You walked slower.

So did he.

"Go away," you mumbled, shoving your feet back into your shoes. "You make me so mad. I don't know what I've done to piss you ff this much, but I hope it's worth it!"

The Oni kept following you.

It was quickly becoming aggravating. You stopped and turned around, probably to yell at him, but seeing him just standing there made you too mad for words and you turned back around to walk. You stomped your foot and screamed at the sky.

You hated this.

It made no sense.

You jumped at the feeling of a hand curling around yours. It was big and meaty and riddled with scars and veins. It was a human hand. The Oni's hand.

And he was touching you gently, like you could break at any moment.

Like he was sorry.

But Kazan would never say it.

"...Stay," he said.

You gawked. You hadn't even realised he could talk. You'd been sure his only language was punching and letting out battle cries. Still, over the revelation, you glared at him. "Are you crazy? What if you kill me?"

"I won't."

He held your hand slightly tighter. Was that a threat?

You pulled away your hand to test it; he didn't try squeeze it harder.

Not a threat.

"Um..."

Oh.

What did you do now?

You hadn't expected this.

"Stay," he said again.

"Why?"

"For tea."

You felt like laughing. Was he serious? Was he actually genuine? For tea? He wanted you to stay for tea? Huh? What? Why-

"Yes," you said. "Okay."

You were staying for tea.

~

The Oni was... Not what you expected. He didn't say much, but when he did, it was choked and gruff like he wasn't used to talking. And maybe he wasn't.

You were skeptical the whole time, but not once did he move to hurt you. He didn't even poison the tea that he made--- hand ground and the water boiled over a fire. He showed you his every move with distinct slowness like he knew you were watching.

"Does it ever get lonely here?" You found yourself blurting. "All alone. I mean, I heard you're related to Rin. Is that true?"

All you got was a nod. You weren't sure whether that was to the first or the second question, but you ran with it.

"Do you often make tea?"

He shook his head.

"Am I annoying you?"

The Oni looked at you again--- this time sharply, and you tensed and held your breath. You weren't expect the flash of deadpan attitude in his eyes when he sighed and turned away.

"So... I'm not?"

"Drink your tea," he said.

You did.

~

You should have never come back.

But the tea...

The tea was good.

Yeah, the tea.

~

So... Kazan may like you more than he thought.

It wasn't intentional; it had just happened. You kept coming for tea, he kept listening to you babble, and he started to crave your company the second you left. You had managed to fill a gap in his chest that he hadn't even realised had been vacant to begin with.

You were just so beautiful.

It had caught him by surprise. One day you came to his realm, took off your shoes and waited for him to pour you a cup of tea and it had struck him that you were the most stunning thing to exist in all his millennia of living, and could spend a millenia more of just admiring you if you allowed. But you never did.

You always thought something was wrong when he stared at you for too long. Always took it as your cue to leave.

Kazan regretted killing you over and over again.

Maybe if he didn't, you'd be more willing to trust him again.

"Yamaoka Kazan," he said one afternoon. It had slipped out. You were in the middle of talking and then he'd just said it.

"Pardon?"

"My name."

"Oh, well if I'm right, you introduced yourself with your last name first. Out of respect, should I call you Mr Yamaoka?"

That alone sent a shudder down his spine. Kazan barely managed to hide it. The only thing stopping him was his need for you to say it again, say it more intimately. Say it like you meant it. And not his last name.

"No," he said.

You were past that. You deserved more. Deserved everything.

But selfishly, he wanted something from you first.

Hesitantly, you tried his name in your mouth. "... Kazan?"

Kazan.

Kazan.

Kazan.

Suddenly he was just a man, not a killer. A man who had lived and breathed and felt things, and now he felt them for you.

"Well, if we're on that level, my name is Y/n."

"Y/n."

You looked away from him, and he smirked beneath his mask.

It seemed he affected you just as much.

☆…☆…☆…☆…☆…☆☆…☆…☆…☆…☆…☆☆…☆…☆…☆…☆…☆

I swear to the universe the only thing i could think of with 'you were staying for tea' was that meme from mulan like 'would you like to stay for dinner' and then the grandma yelling out 'would you like to stay forever' but it's rin

I wanna write a pt. 2 for this but would you be interested in that?

As always, please reblog!

[dreaming-of-the-reality]

The last couple of days, I have been rewatching House of the Dragon Season 1 in preparation for Season 2 which begins next month. There have been small details I have begun to notice this time round watching. So I just wanted to share some.

In this post, I would like to mention a few details regarding the bond between Aemond and Vhagar.

——————————

Some people view this bond as a weak one. They use evidence from episode 10 where Aemond “loses control” over Vhagar and she kills Lucerys. Claiming that Aemond does not have a clear strong bond with his dragon in comparison to Daemon and Caraxes, or Rhaenyra and Syrax.

I disagree

To explain what I mean, I need to give some context regarding the shows timelines (please disregard the books timelines which are different to the ones of the show)

In episode 2, 12 year old Laena Velaryon and Viserys are walking through the gardens as Laena has been offered up as Viserys potential bride by her parents. To make conversation, she asks Viserys about Vhagar and where she is - Viserys mentions that no one had seen Vhagar and the dragon keepers believe she rests somewhere far away.

Vhagars rider before this was Baelon and it is assumed that she left after his death and has not been seen since.

Episode 3 starts with Aegons second name day celebration. This implies it’s been atleast 3 and a bit years since episode 2. We can assume the royal wedding happened very quickly and Alicent got pregnant shortly after with Aegon. Once born, Alicent would’ve gotten pregnant with Helaena as she is heavily pregnant during this episode.

Laena would now be around 15 years old based on this timeline.

In episode 4, only 2-3 months have passed as Alicent has now given birth, and Rhaenyra is returning from her tour. This episode ends with Otto being fired.

Episode 5 picks up right after as we see Alicent in the same outfit as the end of episode 4, and Otto readying his horse to leave. Rhaenyra and Viserys have sailed to Driftmark, and return shortly after with the Velaryons for the royal wedding.

When arriving, Rhaenys and Laenor fly their dragons Meleys and Seasmoke, together towards the red keep. This implies that Laena (15) has yet to claim a dragon - as we know she claims Vhagar and we would have very obviously seen her if she were there.

I believe that at the wedding, Alicent is already pregnant with Aemond, conceived during that awkward and gross sex scene in episode 4. We know that Helaena and Aemonds age difference is about a year or two, so this would line up.

In episode 6, Laena is speaking with her daughter about how she did not have a dragon even when she was 15, but then claimed Vhagar. By my timeline, Laena would’ve claimed Vhagar, who had suddenly come back after years, in the same year as the wedding of Rhaenyra and Laenor. Aemond would’ve also been born in the same year.

——

Here’s my theory:

Vhagar only returned when Aemond was born because she knew that he would be her last true rider.

We can assume that Vhagar had her strongest bond with her first rider Visenya - a bold warrior and a brave fighter. Aemond, Vhagars last rider, grows to become a brave and bold warrior too, appealing to Vhagar as he was bold enough to claim her, one of the largest dragons left, in the middle of the night, alone as a young boy.

So what if Vhagar only returned to Westeros from wherever she was hiding all those years, specifically for Aemond? Symbolic of the dragon egg in the cradle, Vhagar was bound to become Aemonds dragon from his birth.

We know Aemond felt very embarrassed about the fact he was the only one who hadn’t claimed nor hatched a dragon, which only encouraged him to continuously attempt to claim one over and over again. But wouldn’t it be a twist if he did in fact have a dragon all along but never knew it? It was more of a spiritual bond before it was a physical one?

——

Laena and Vhagars bond was never demonstrated in the show. It was portrayed subtly as weak in comparison to Rhaenyra’s and Syrax’s bond or Daemon and Caraxes’ bond.

When Daemon gets shot with an arrow in the step stones, we can hear Caraxes let out a roar in pain. When Rhaenyra is having a miscarriage and attempting to give birth, we see Syrax roaring in pain reflecting Rhaenyra’s.

When Laena is trying to give birth, and clearly in pain, struggling to walk, we see Vhagar… having a nap. She only wakes up when Laena is standing right in front of her. Vhagar did not sense Laena’s pain or distress like other dragons have sensed their riders.

It reminds me of Jon and Rhaegal in Game of Thrones - Jon may have ridden him, but he did not bond with him like Danaerys bonded with Drogon.

In this post thus far, I have not mentioned or referenced any differing events and timelines from the books as I have only used examples from the show, but in the books, it is written that when Aemond loses his eye, Vhagar roars in pain - thus demonstrating their strong physical bond.

You can choose to discard that if you want, but it is a little crumb of context taken from the book as in the show, it is not shown when we cut straight to everyone gathered in the Driftmark hall.

In episode 10, when Aemond is chasing Lucerys through the skies above Storms end, I believe Vhagar could sense Aemonds anger towards Lucerys, and acted upon it as an instinct of revenge. She understands Aemonds pain and suffering at the hands of Lucerys, and in return kills him.

People look at this as being disobedience and a weak bond, I see it as such a strong bond that Vhagar didn’t even need to be told by her rider, because she could sense it. Just like Arrax, sensing Lucerys’ fear, defended him by blowing fire at Vhagar without being told. This also would’ve been an act that would’ve triggered Vhagar to attack - wanting to defend her rider from a dragon and boy who wished to harm him.

——

I believe there is reason to believe that Vhagar only returned to Westeros for Aemond. It would be the biggest coincidence that just before the dance, after so many years, Vhagar returns for no reason around the same time that Aemond, her soon to be rider, is born.

Vhagar could’ve left again after Laena died, but she didn’t. She flew to Driftmark where Aemond was, and waited. Roaring out to him when she landed.

Helaena foreshadowing Aemonds claim by saying he would have to close an eye, means that this was something already destined to happen. This wasn’t a random event.

I don’t believe the writers would add something in about Vhagar not being spotted for YEARS, if it were not important to the plot in some way.

——————

This take is certainly an interesting one, and is one to think about. The timeline matches, the foreshadowing matches, there are small hints that match, there is evidence to similar cases already in the show that imply this.

I think Vhagar knew that Aemond would be her last true rider, and that she would die with him as well. She is a war dragon, she would die a war dragon.

[inactivewattpadauthor]

Nightwolf x Reader x Fujin (Windwolf)

I'm unbelievably down bad prodigiously for these two, and I don't think anyone has ever created a reader one shot with these two.

Warnings are the plot is dogshit and I only wanted to just do the brief makeout scene with both of them

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Every one of you four were growing weary, or it appears to be three, of spending endless time in the void.

There's no telling how long you've been stuck there, but you only were glad that you weren't alone.

At the beginning of your time in the void, your close allies, Fujin and Nightwolf, found you. You grimaced as you were warned the evil sorcerer was also sent in this prison as well.

He seemed to be the main one to take the whole situation lightly. Especially the way he is chuckling as he spectates what is currently happening outside the void.

'Must be Raiden making another mistake.' You could see the events like everyone else. Your thought was definitely true, the way you could see Fujin carry a displeased look on his face. Eased up by Nightwolf resting his hand on the Wind God's shoulder.

The way they gave each other a reassuring look was just~

'Focus!' You looked away. You couldn't deny that you got close with both of them personally, but that was before you found out those two had their own feelings for each other.

You'd still respect it. They were still your close friends.

"My, Y/n. Is something on your mind?" The snake sssssspeaks to you.

"No?" You raised an eyebrow. 'Shit, he's onto me.'

Nightwolf and Fujin looked your way as Shang Tsung spoke to you, making sure he wasn't about to bother you too much.

"You just look a bit flustered... best way to put it." Shang Tsung grinned.

"I'm tired." You quickly pulled an excuse, ruffling your messy hair. It was a poor excuse, but you did look exhausted regardless.

"Right. Tired." Shang Tsung rests his chin on his palm. "Perhaps do you have any stories you wish to share? Interesting rivalries? Or any 'interests'?"

You cringed and made a quick objection. "Please! Even if I did, I wouldn't tell you about it. I was taught not to talk to strange old men."

Shang Tsung laughed at your comment. "Defensive, are you? Is it someone here?"

Before you could even answer the on the spot question, Nightwolf spoke up.

"She stated that she is tired, Shang Tsung." The Matokan warrior looked at him in subtle agitation.

Fujin only shook his head before looking to you. "It's okay if you wish to get some rest, Y/n. We won't stop you."

You looked down before nodding and walking to a more isolated part of the void, knowing damn well you weren't going to sleep.

Waiting for you to be out of range, Shang Tsung still carried his infamous smug look. "I think she may be interested in one of you."

Fujin rolled his eyes as his lover only gave Shang a death stare.

Noticing no one was speaking up, he adds, "Well, if you aren't going to make a move, I suppose-"

"If you go near her, we won't hesitate striking you down." Nightwolf threatened.

"Don't you dare." Fujin said simultaneously.

"If you say so." Shang Tsung brushed off the threat.

--Time Skip since I'm struggling, brought to you by Kung Lao twisting his ankle after trying to learn Liu Kang's dance moves---

("Be happy it wasn't your neck." -Liu maybe)

You had no clue how long you were silently staring into the void (literally) as you laid on your back, waiting to drift off.

Your e/c orbs shifted when you heard footsteps. It was the beloved Fujin. Approaching you with a soothing smile.

"Can't sleep, like usual?"

You shake your head.

Fujin sighs and sits down next to you. "About earlier-"

"I'm not into anyone."

"Come on now, Y/n. You didn't deny him when he asked if it was someone here."

"Because Nightwolf spoke up."

"Well, I'm curious... Do you?"

You stayed silent.

Fujin grew worried for a moment. "It's not Shang Tsung, is it?"

"Gods no, Fujin! I actually like- wait!" You sit up and stare right at Fujin for a moment.

"Hm?" The white-haired god tilted his head. His confusion rises as you start poking at him a few times.

"You're the real Fujin, correct?"

Fujin chuckles lowly before grabbing your wrist gently. "It is. I respect your cautiousness."

You raised an eyebrow. "Tell me something Shang doesn't know."

"You tripped one time in front of me and accused me of summoning a strong wind current."

You face palm yourself. "Great memory to bring up."

"Absolutely."

"Okay, anyways, how honest can I be with you right now?

Fujin looks at you with sincerity. "We're close, Y/n. You can tell me anything you need to."

You felt bold, but not too bold aa you started stumbling over your next words. "Well... it may be because I'm losing my sanity being here for a while, but I should tell you that... I like, think I like both you and Nightwolf.

Fujin blushed a bit. "Is that so? Both of us?"

"Well, yeah. However, I don't want to ruin the friendship I have with you guys, considering you two are already with each other. And no matter what, I'll always respect your guys' status."

Fujin chuckled before standing. "Well, I appreciate your honesty. Anything else you have to say?"

"Wow, you took that well.... uhh, no, not really."

Fujin bowed lightly. "Very well, I'll be right back." Fujin turns away with a smirk.

The handsome lord had something in mind. It just needs a little convincing of Nightwolf.

( A few minutes later, finally the good part)

Nightwolf and Fujin both walked towards you, Fujin whispering a few things to him.

You felt anxious, clearly aware. Fujin already told Nightwolf how you like both of them. You saw no sort of judgmental expression on Nightwolf's face, however.

Both of them sat near you, finishing the private conversation. Nightwolf looked at you and spoke. "Shang Tsung should not be bothering us anytime soon. Since we are all close to each other, should we..."

Nightwolf glances at Fujin for a moment, in which he smirks and nods.

"Y/n, would you like to... 'spend time' with us?"

You could tell this was all Fujin's idea, considering he was the more outgoing person, and Nightwolf would've definitely been a bit shy to even request something like this.

But Fujin has his way to make things work.

"I... you mean like -"

"All of us have been tense since we got stuck in the void. There's nothing wrong with a small stress relief." Fujin explained.

"Okay.... What happened to our nuisance snake?"

They exchanged glances with each other. "That's nothing to worry about."

The two men sat at your side. Boy, you felt heated.

Nightwolf hugged you from behind whispering in your ear. "Are you willing to do this? We do not wish to overwhelm you."

"Of course I am, I love you both truly."

Fujin lifted your chin up to kiss you. It was such a sweet kiss at first. Nightwolf began massaging your shoulders, allowing Fujin to taste you first.

Fujin slipped his tongue in your mouth, causing you to moan slightly. He got carried away quickly, being rough against your tongue, making sure to explore every inches of your mouth.

You pulled away eventually for a quick breather, only for Nightwolf to gently guide your chin back towards him so he could passionately kiss you too.

The Matokan was rather more tamed with his tongue, but you still got turned on regardless. Nightwolf's hands moved from your shoulders to around your waist, feeling on you.

Fujin watched you two have a moment before he stole you away and kissed you again, eventually letting Nightwolf also get another turn.

"Tsawoduhi." Nightwolf murmurs into your ear before kissing it out of pure affection. Fujin began kissing your neck at the same time.

You felt so in heaven. You bit your lips and looked up, not wanting them to stop. Hell, maybe go even further than that. You felt certain that maybe, just MAYBE you could handle them both.

You placed a hand in Fujin's hair and felt how very soft it was. Your eyes traveled back forward to look at him, but they caught something else.

"Guys?" You spoke. Nightwolf stopped and looked at you to see your worried expression before looking at what you were. Fujin, however, kept kissing and licking your neck, clearly too into it.

"Fujin." You tried tugging on his braid to pull his attention away from your neck.

"You can do it harder, Y/n." He moaned.

"Fujin!" You said with a more serious tone, alerting him at once.

He looked up briefly to you and Nightwolf staring silently at something. He peeked behind himself to see what the deal was.

There was Shang Tsung with a bruised face staring at you three. ~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: No way I stayed up the whole night knowing I work the morning shift for a bit. I was gonna delete this, but I wrote too much of it for it to go to waste😭

It's like sometimes whenever I want to write something a tad bit (or not) sexual, the plot is the most difficult to do and it does get in the way when I do get to the spicy scene.

Hopefully, you guys like it in a way. I'm into Windwolf, so someone had to write smth like this.

[imagines--galore]

||A Confession Years in the Making||

Summary: A reunion between two friends, turns to something.....more.

Pairing: Legolas x Reader

Rating || Genres || Warnings: T+ Romance. Fluff. A little mention of blood and death. And some kissing in the end.

A/N: @aidansloth​ and @chocotacobread​ suggested that I continue this and I couldn’t help myself so here it is!

The battle of Helm’s Deep was won.

It was hard-earned and brutal. So many lives had been lost.

You were one of the few elves that had survived. It had not been easy. The enemy had seen to slaughtering you whatever chance it could get. Yet you had been steadfast and true in your skills as a warrior. You still had so much to live for and one mere battle would not deter you from your true purpose.

Sustaining no life-threatening injuries, you had taken to carrying out other tasks. One of them being searching for survivors amongst those fallen. More then once you had stooped down to carry an injured soldier to the Healing Halls. Your elf strength aided in carrying them, though it didn’t take long for your clothing to be stained with blood and grime from your task. You had removed your armor earlier, or rather what was left of it. You had used several pieces of your armor as ammunition during the battle.

Despite your relatively high level of endurance, you were beginning to tire now. You had not rested after the battle, and now it had been nearly a full day since you had any rest. Before that there had been the long march across Middle-Earth. Suffice to say when Aragorn approached you tell you there was a room where the remaining Fellowship and elves were resting, you were quick to follow him.

Entering the room you were greeted by the sight of several figures slumbering upon the ground underneath warm blankets. You were too exhausted to notice anyone or anything as Aragorn guided you to an empty spot and handed you a blanket and a rough looking pillow. You barely thanked him as you pushed off your boots and outer tunic, revealing the slightly cleaner one underneath. You would’ve preferred a bath but you were just so tired. As soon as you laid down you were asleep, unaware of the elf that lay beside you, lost in his own dreams.

                                             ————————-

A warmth enveloped your hand, prompting you to open your eyes, staring sleepily at the eyes of the elf lying beside you. He seemed to have just woken as well, since his own eyes were barely open, yet there was a small smile playing on his lips as he stroked his thumb along the back of your hand. You closed your eyes with a gentle smile, your body subtly moving a little closer to his.

“Thank the Valar you are safe.” He whispered so softly that the words reached no other ears but your own. You lifted his hand to your lips, pressing them softly against his skin. “And I am glad that you are safe as well, Legolas.”

The both of you fell asleep again.

                                             ————————-

You had been to countless elven festivities during your lifetime. And those of men was not so different from your own.

There was drinking involved, of course, songs, dance, merriment and laughter. Wherever you looked, you saw families reunited with their loved ones, soldier’s sitting together and remembering their fallen comrades. The Hobbits, Merry and Pippin, as you had been introduced, were dancing on the table. The White Wizard, Mithrandir, was watching amused. He caught your gaze and gave you a warm smile, which you returned. However, your gaze was directed towards a certain elf and his dwarf friend. You navigated your way over to them, amused to see what they were up to.

There seemed to be some sort of drinking competition, you deduced from the many many tankards that were now resting upon the table. As the Prince of Mirkwood appeared from behind a tankard, once he had drained it of course, you couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow. “Would not be cheating if you were to win? You know their ale cannot effect us.” You whispered to him as you watched Gimli reach for yet another tankard.

Legolas smiled mischievously before pressing a lips to his fingers. You couldn’t help but laugh softly at his antics. It didn’t take long for Gimli to promptly keel over and begin snoring as the ale finally got to him. You couldn’t help but laugh at the smug yet unbothered manner in which Legolas stated his victory. “Game Over.”

You patted his arm gently before moving to the unconscious. Together the both of you managed to pick him up and carry him out of the Feasting Halls. Finding the rooms where you would be sleeping, Gimli was deposited there, and after throwing a blanket over him, and listening to him curse at Legolas for winning, though in jest, the two of you stepped out of the room and into the hallway.

The two of you turned your heads to look at one another, before you reached out to clasp his hand within you own and began to lead him down the hall. Past the crowd of happy people and out into the cool evening air. The both of you stood next to one another, hands still clasped. The silence seemed to stretch on and on, yet it was one of comfort.

“I did not think we would survive.” You finally spoke, allowing a slight tremble to your voice as you did. Legolas nodded. “There was a moment I thought as such as well.” He responded. If it had not been for Mithrandir and Éomer’s timely arrival they would have been overwhelmed quickly by the enemy.

“We elves tend to not think about death, given that were are immortal.” You turned so you could face him. “But during the battle, watching our kinsmen fall, I realized we are just as vulnerable as Man.” He gave your hand a light squeeze as if in reassurance. Your gaze flickered to your joined hands and raised them between the two of you. You lifted your other hand as well as you began to play with his fingers, and drawing patterns against his palm. “And though I had resolved to tell you even before the battle of how I felt, I realized I should’ve done it a long long time ago.”

You finally looked up at him, eyes shining with unshed tears to see a storm of emotions darkening his gaze. Yet he looked at you so tenderly. You had never seen him look that way before, though little did you know, over the years, when your gaze had been fixed on something else, he had looked at you with that expression quite often.

“I suppose it was a mistake on both our parts, to keep something from one another for so long.” He finally said, reaching up with his other hand to push some of your hair behind your pointed ear. The wind was blowing softly, allowing strands of your hair to dance in the breeze. You had borrowed a dress from Lady Éowyn for the occasion, but it hardly mattered to Legolas what you wore. You looked just as beautiful as you did after the battle at Helm’s Deep. His hand lingered at your ear, fingertips only barely brushing against the pointed tip. The sensation prompted you to inhale a shuddering breath, unable to look away from him.

“Shall we promise never to do that again?” You asked, clasping his hands in both of yours, stepping closer to him as you did. The scent of pine and wood enveloped you completely as you drew comfort from simply being in his presence. He gave a small nod of confirmation, his hand cupping the side of your face as he drew you even closer.

“I promise, never to keep a secret from you Y/N, again.” You had been expecting his lips to meet yours. Your eyes had closed, which was why you were a little surprised when he passed your mouth completely. “And here is my final secret.” He finally stopped a mere breath away from your ear as he whispered his final secret, his final undoing. His breath was warm against your skin. His closeness and scent was making your head spin, and yet you had never felt so grounded, so alive before.

A shy yet delighted smile stretched across your features as your body leaned against his completely and you turned your head to whisper your final secret to him as well.

The promise the two of you made that night was sealed with an embrace that was both passionate yet gentle. His lips found yours at the same time yours found his. There was no denying that whatever spark there had been between the two of you only seemed to shine brighter as you kissed. It had always been there, but this would be the first time you were both allowing yourself to explore for the first time.

You pulled back from the kiss, your nose brushing against his for a moment. You opened your eyes to see him looking back at you, and the emotion that lay within urged you to fuse your lips together once more. The first kiss had been soft and gentle, this was anything but.

With a hand at the back of your head, Legolas tilted your head slightly to allow him to better slant his lips against yours. The slight shift had him making the kiss even deeper.

You poured every ounce of love and devotion into the embrace, trying to convey the depth of your feelings to him. Legolas seemed matched your pace perfectly, as he wrapped his arms around your waist, his hands stroking along the length of your back. Your hands were occupied with his hair, before roaming down to his shoulders.

He was the one who pulled back this time, taking satisfaction at your breathlessness the blush across your cheeks. “No more secrets?” He asked, as his thumb ran along the bottom of your lower lip. You shook your head. “No more secrets.”

You pulled him back down, your giggle at his startled expression muffled as your lips met once more.

[rinandsketches]

Dragon warrior study

Spoilers ahead in case you don't wanna be spoiled for Kung fu panda 4.

Meet the new dragon warrior~ Zhen the fox.

And OOH boy does everyone have some sharp words for this idea. But I am here to have a look and share some of my theories on why Zhen was picked.

Quick opinion on the movie since it can't be helped. I really enjoyed it. True it didn't have much of the depth as the first two but it does have a lot of heart, the best description I heard, its this reason I enjoyed it more then the third movie.

Now that I successfully pissed some readers off we can continue. Cause I'm looking into the possibilities of why the dragon warriors have been odd selections, and why both tigress and tai lung weren't chosen to be the dragon warrior despite whether or not they were worthy of being this legendary warrior.

The main argument is in fact the next dragon warrior should be tigress and tai lung since they were cheated out of the title and that po just met Zhen for like eh, 3 days at most. But hey, I'mma tell those folks something. Po was also picked off the streets to be the dragon warrior and had to be trained by shifu in a small time. The choosing of Zhen was no different, only difference is that Po got to know Zhen before the choice.

That said, I wondered why is the dragon warrior such as difficult spot to gain? In the first movie we get info of the dragon warrior, a prophet warrior to protect the valley. Not one managed to claim the title. Not shifu, not tigress, and not tai lung. We're not sure if Oogwai was the first dragon warrior before po but it was the turtle who made the scroll and said it had the secret to becoming an unstoppable warrior.

Shifu had trained Tai lung to be the warrior but Oogwai denied him for having darkness in his heart, then chose Po despite the 5 skilled warrior. He was about to select Tigress before po landed in front but this is not the case. Oogwai felt Po's presence at the tournament, po was flying over the gate at the time when tigress was set to preform, this is why he stopped the tournament. You can see Tigress with a confused expression when he does this. Its cause she didn't even get started.

This is why I believe not even Tigress was meant to be the dragon warrior, but why? Why spend so many years waiting only to select some random panda? Why wasn't any other strong warrior selected. I believe the answer is very simple. What do we know of the dragon warrior? Tigress said this,

"It is said that the dragon warrior can spend months at a time eating nothing but the dew off of a single ginko leaf and the energy of the universe."

What? What kind of mad magic does that mean? Sure the kung fu is pretty exaggerated in the panda universe but even the most strongest warriors needed to have a little bit of food when not in mediation. Its also agreed that the dragon warrior is the strongest. And lastly, why is it called the dragon warrior to begin with?

Because the dragon warrior...was an actual dragon.

Meet the first dragon warrior

This is a character from the paws of destiny. I don't know how Canon the side projects are but in the series paws of destiny we meet Jindao the figure behind the legend. In the series its said that Jindao protected the valley of piece. In Kung fu panda there are only counted 3 dragons so far, 2 in the paws of destiny and 1 in the TV show. Two out of the three were evil. Can you guess which one was among those evil dragons? Yup, Jindao.

For whatever reason Jindao was corrupted by the hero's chi and got power hungry but it was clear that during his defeat Jindao was very powerful. The very ones who defeated him won but just barely. Despite wrong doings here we are, 1000 years later Oogway, yes he's that old, foresaw a hero taking the place of the dragon warrior and training with the hero's chi. Yet he didn't know who it would be.

With all the information laid out, let's see why Zhen and Po are the true animals to recieve the title. For Po, Oogway saw the balance of the universe in Po, his true successor. Po was perfect. Yet no one believed this and thought in order to be the dragon warrior, you needed to be a warrior. This is why Shifu trained tai lung and the 5 so harshly. Po isn't who you'd think would be perfect, borrowing information from Mat pat, he explained the dragon style of kung fu practices all 5 animal styles. (Correct me is I'm wrong) Po was a fanboy of all five so he was on his way to learning the dragon style of kung fu. Po was also very lax nature, had a free spirit and so much heart that Oogway knew Po wouldn't follow the same fate as Jindao.

Zhen, we finally get to Zhen, heh, is a grey fox. Originally a thief and an apprentice to "the chameleon~" someone you wouldn't guess would be the next dragon warrior. The animal that everyone things was picked too fast but again Po was selected in seconds compared to the 5. Their feelings of being jibbed was how audience felt. Shifu again selected more bigger, stronger and skilled warriors to be the dragon warrior. Not the furious five. They had their own stories going on. Po was unwilling to give up the title but I think those candidates would have been a terrible choice, cause the dragon warrior needs to also be humble enough to not fall to the allure of the hero chi. Sure, Zhen's a thief but is she a bad person? No, she isn't. She is a morally grey character next to a black and white one. I believe Zhen was chosen because she can have this understanding of the world. An understanding that some people aren't always who they seem to be. An open heart. This is what everyone else was missing. I'm not saying tigress didn't have heart, she does and I'm not saying tai lung didn't deserve to be the dragon warrior. But if all you needed was skill, you worked for it and you deserved it then by that same logic then Shifu should have been considered.

So why do I believe Zhen was chosen? I believe she was picked because she always had the heart, she has the potential to learn great kung fu, (notice how while she has some skill in combat she isn't probably trained, she then started being trained by the furious 5 and po. Remember the dragon style is the 5 animal styles into one), Zhen also defied someone already on the evil side. and I think po also had...a vision. If you recall Po was beginning to get visions just like Oogway when he foresaw Tai lung returning and the success Po would accomplish. Po had a vision of the chameleon's true plans of world domination. Perhaps Po also saw something similar to what Oogway saw in himself, that Zhen can accomplish great things as the dragon warrior. Someone to follow the steps of po instead of turning into another monster like Jindao.

But this is what I believe, why do you think Po was chosen? And don't write, the creators got lazy, but that count they could have gone. Oh, Monket is next dragon warrior. Movie done.