#three heroes on distant shores

[crispyafterdark]

Two muscular heroes hanging out on the beach...

From a Russian movie called  “Three Heroes on Distant Shores”

[landsofaruin]

Vetrheim, The land of the Raiders and Tales

The history of Vetrheim is a tale of endurance, valor, and the power of stories that shaped an entire culture. It began with a collection of tribes residing in the harsh northern realms of Aldine. These early people eventually migrated through the Blackridge mountains alongside the Dunarii tribes, traversing the ice bridge that connected them to new lands. However, unlike the Dunarii, they diverged from the path and ventured onto what would become the Islands of the Skalds, eventually known as Vetrheim.

As the seas rose, submerging many smaller islands, the people of Vetrheim adapted to their new environment. They clung to the stories brought back by scouts who explored the mainland, developing a deep reverence for storytellers and historians. It was this foundation that led to their identity as the People of the Tales.

In their new home, the People of the Tales encountered an ancient spirit known as Jolmir, the god of stories and song. Jolmir welcomed them to the islands, claiming them as his children and promising them his protection. However, this divine gift came with a grave challenge. The Thur, a term used by the People of the Tales to describe the first children of Jolmir, trolls and massive giants, were the first inhabitants of these lands and they did not take kindly to their fathers replacing of them. The Thur launched brutal raids, decimating human settlements and leaving behind only blood and destruction.

The war between the People of the Tales and the Thur raged for over a thousand years. The people, blessed by Jolmir's divine children, the Singers of Praise known as Girgi and Fluki, fought with titanic strength, driven by the promise of a heavenly paradise if they became heroes whose stories would be told for generations. The Singers of Praise urged them to achieve legendary feats, ensuring that their names would be immortalized in sagas and songs.The first High Jarl of Vetrheim, Gunnar, was a warrior of unparalleled prowess. Under his leadership, the people waged a relentless campaign against the Thur, leaving a trail of slain giants and trolls in their wake. Gunnar's victories pushed the Thur further and further from the archipelago until the remaining creatures were forced to flee into the sea and the northern realms of ice. This epic conflict gave rise to countless heroes, each the subject of their own sagas and songs, their adventures and deeds becoming the foundation of Vetrheim's way of life. The tales of these heroes continue to be told, preserving the legacy of a people who, through the power of their stories and their unyielding spirit, claimed their place in the world. With the giants banished to the Lands of Ice and the trolls reduced to scattered remnants, the islanders were finally free from their monstrous adversaries. Under the leadership of High Jarl Gunnar, the humans unified and dedicated their new homeland to the three gods who had guided them.Their lives and culture became deeply intertwined with the worship of these deities, and the pursuit of fame and glory through stories and heroic deeds became the highest aspiration. However, with no more great enemies to conquer on the islands, the warriors of Vetrheim faced a new challenge. The island was at peace, and the once-glorious battles against giants and trolls had become tales of the past. To attain their promised paradise and achieve legendary status, the warriors needed new ways to prove their valor. Thus began the first days of the Age of the Raiders. Deprived of formidable foes on their own shores, the warriors of Vetrheim sought glory elsewhere. The invention of Dragon boats, created with the guidance of Foljuldor, the great serpent god of the seas, enabled them to embark on daring voyages across the vast oceans. These sleek and formidable ships allowed them to sail to distant lands in search of worthy opponents, fierce monsters, and new challenges to test their mettle.

As they ventured into the unknown, the raids became a means not only of proving their worth in battle but also of plundering and ravaging the coasts of larger nations across Aruin. These raids, initially driven by the desire for fame and heroic stories, grew in scale and frequency, becoming a cornerstone of Vetrheim's warrior culture.

The warriors of Vetrheim, now known as the Skaldr, or "Singers of Sagas," became feared across the seas. Their exploits were legendary, and their raids left an indelible mark on the histories of the lands they visited. Whether clashing with mighty warriors, hunting elusive beasts, or looting the riches of foreign realms, the Skaldr ensured that their names would be remembered in the sagas and songs of their people. This age of raiders marked a new chapter in the history of Vetrheim, where the pursuit of fame and glory transcended the boundaries of their homeland. The islands, once the battlegrounds of gods and monsters, became the launching point for a seafaring people whose thirst for adventure and renown knew no bounds.

[lorirwritesfanfic]

Top 10 Choices books

This time, I actually managed to rank my favorite books. But don't expect this to happen again 😅

1. The Crown & The Flame: fierce female MC who's not only a queen but also a warrior, male MC that turns into a dragon, intricate adventure with lots of action, great characters (including LIs, side characters and villains) and didn't even need CG art to make the story compelling. Oh, how I miss PB's early years...

2. Ride or Die: I expected the worst from a book which MC is a nerdy teen getting involved with illegal car dealers and car races, but PB went there and made me eat my words. The outstanding plot, the amazing LIs and side characters, actual character development for MC and a beautiful open ending. All of that in one single book? Damn, PB ❤️

3. Hero: I'm not of big fan of super heroes stories, but this one has my heart with its interesting LIs and friends to MC, engaging plot and a villain that looks like he stepped out of Spiderman universe to enter Choicesverse.

4. Bloodbound: even though the two last chapters were absolutely traumatizing (and I will NEVER forgive what the writing team did to Jax and Lily), Bloodbound lore is really engaging, has some great action scenes, most likely the best NSFW scenes and wonderful LIs.

5. Perfect Match: I genuinely thought it was just a romance book. I was so wrong! PM has adventure, sci-fi, drama, comedy and gorgeous LIs. I love it!

6. The Heist Monaco: Smart and cunning MC, interesting and gorgeous LIs, awesome adventure/action/comedy plot and great side characters with some of the best group scenes.

7. It Lives Beneath: best horror book PB has ever written with choices that can drastically affect the ending. Plus, Tom is romanceable 😍

8. A Courtesan of Rome: because it's based on Ancient Roman History (and I love History), the storyline has some inconsistencies that bugged me sometimes, but MC is so awesome, and the LIs were so good that it was hard to choose and I nearly forgot Cassius wasn't this sweet, intellectual and idealistic guy the book makes him look like lol.

9. Mother of The Year: another book PB made me eat my words. I love a book with a fierce MC, wonderful LIs and a daughter so adorable and smart that even this millennial terrified of having kids was all heart eyes in the very first chapter;

10. High School Story: did I expect to be so invested in a story about a teenager having cheesy teenager problems during high school? No. But I was so freaking invested on this drama-free teen trilogy I was pissed when I found out the fourth book was actually a new story without my beloved MC and their hilarious dad and the original HSS LIs had very little relevance to the plot (But I forgive the writing team because of Skye ❤️)

Honorable mentions:

- Distant Shores: Pirate book, time travel and a heartbreaking ending. What's not to like?

- Blades of Light and Shadow: I have to admit I like the plot more than its characters, but also like playing with as an orc (even though the storyline didn't do justice to Orc MC on book one)

- Crimes of Passion: even tho I haven't finished playing it, I looooove a good mystery/thriller/horror book, it's great to play as an adult MC who's actually good at what they do and it's the only single LI book I played in which the LI is worth all the hype;

- Guinevere: also haven't finished playing it, but I love a good period book with a good dose of fantasy. Plus, Arthur is the sweetest;

- Desire & Decorum: NGL after book one, there were so many filler scenes on books two and three, but I was* too madly in love with my Ottoman Prince and liked 90% of the characters to give up on the story ¯⁠\⁠_⁠(⁠ツ⁠)⁠_⁠/⁠¯

*"was..." I said, as if Hamid doesn't live in my mind rent free since 2018... 😏

Tagging @choicesfandomappreciation

[journeythroughjourneytothewest]

Chapter Recap 1: The divine root conceives, its source revealed; Mind and nature nurtured, the Great Dao is born

Hello to everyone, and thank you for a good showing on this first official “meeting” for the Journey to the West reading group. Many thanks to everyone who participated! You comments, memes, art, and meta was all wonderful. To end the day, I will provide a quick chapter recap for anyone who may want or need it. I  hope you all find it useful. Here’s looking forward to next week’s session.

---

Chapter 1 covers a LOT, beginning with the primordial figure Pan Gu’s construction of the Universe, the creation of Heaven, Earth, and Man, before we then zoom into Flower-Fruit Mountain. The focus is here put on an immortal stone which, “nourished for a long period by the seed of Heaven and Earth and by the essences of the sun and the moon,” becomes “pregnant with a divine embryo” (i.e. a stone egg), which later on, being “exposed to the wind,” is “transformed into a stone monkey.” Thus is the hero of Xiyouji created!

We then follow the stone monkey as he lives a life of feasting on the fruits of the Earth that Flower-Fruit Mountain provides and becoming friends with everything from tigers to deer to gibbons. And then one fateful day, while playing with a group of monkeys, all these simians decide to follow a mountain stream to its source. Encountering a great waterfall, the monkeys declare that “‘If any of us had the ability to penetrate the curtain and find out where the water comes from without hurting himself, we would honor him as king.’” The stone monkey is the only one to take on the challenge, and, jumping through the waterfall, he discovers a sizeable cave all ready and furnished. The stone monkey, delighted with his discovery, soon convinces the rest of the simians to jump through the waterfall and join him in the cave so that they might “spare ourselves from being subject to the whims of heaven,” i.e. the weather. And so the stone monkey “ascended the throne of kingship” and “assumed the title, Handsome Monkey King.”

The Handsome Monkey King and his subjects, “a flock of gibbons and baboons,” enjoy “their independence in perfect happiness” for “three or four hundred years.” Yet one day during a feast, the king “suddenly grew sad,” soon after explaining to his alarmed subjects that his sorrow comes from fact that though “‘we are not subject to the laws of man today, nor need we be threatened by the rule of any bird or beast, old age and physical decay in the future” will bring an end to their happiness. The monkeys are left weeping, “each one troubled by his own impermanence.” Yet from “among the ranks a bareback monkey suddenly leaped forth” and informs the Monkey King that the Buddhas, the immortals, and the holy sages “can avoid the Wheel of Transmigration as well as the process of birth and destruction, and live as long as Heaven and Earth, the mountains and the streams.” The Monkey King immediately resolves to “find these three kinds of people” so that he can learn how to escape death and be young forever. The monkeys are delighted at this idea, and declare that they will “send the Great King off with a great banquet.”

After an entire day spent drinking and feasting, the Monkey King has his subjects make him a raft, and he sets off in search of the immortals. When he arrives on a distant shore, he soon afterward catches and strips a man of his clothes so that he can wear them himself, “aping the way humans wore them.” The Monkey King then made his way “though counties and prefectures, imitating human speech and human manners,” always “bent on finding the way of the Buddhas, immortals, and holy sages, on discovering the formula for eternal youth.” Yet his search seems fruitless, as “the people of the world were all seekers after profit and fame; there was not one who showed concern for his appointed end.”

The Monkey King is unsuccessful in finding the immortals on one continent, though he spent eight or nine years searching. So he builds himself another raft and drifts across another ocean to another continent. Here he comes across a magnificent mountain, and here encounters a woodcutter that he mistakes for an immortal. Yet this man is neighbors with an actual immortal, and is thus able to tell the Monkey King how he can find “‘the Cave of Slanting Moon and Three Stars. Inside the cave is an immortal by the name of the Patriarch Subodhi, who has already sent out innumerable disciples.”

Finding the cave exactly as the woodcutter told him he could, the Handsome Monkey King nevertheless doesn’t dare to knock. And, being a monkey, he instead “jumped onto the branch of a pine tree, picked a few pine seeds and ate them, and began to play.” Yet doing so works out in his favor; an immortal youth, coming out both because his shifu told him to and to see who was making a disturbance, soon afterwards brings the Monkey King inside to meet Patriarch Subodhi.

As soon as he sees Patriarch Subodhi, the Handsome Monkey King “prostrated himself and kowtowed times without number, saying ‘Master! Master! I, your pupil, pay you my sincere homage.’” And indeed, after being questioned on where he came from, how he got to the immortal’s cave, and even on how he looks and moves, the Patriarch gives the Monkey King the religious name “Sun Wukong,” or “monkey awakened to the void,” accepting the simian as his pupil.

And so we leave the stone monkey, the Handsome Monkey King, the newly named Sun Wukong, at the beginning of his Daoist cultivation. We’ll see how successful he is at it next week.

[seaofthethives]

Monkey Island vs. Pirates of the Caribbean

Sea of Thieves has totally evolved since it first dropped, so let's break down what's new, from enhanced ship mechanics to the ability to buy PS5 games right from your pirate hideout. They've added fresh factions like a fishing crew, each with their own quests. Plus, every season rolls in more dope outfits to deck out your pirate. Then there's the Tall Tales. These are like guided missions that blend with Pirates of the Caribbean and Monkey Island vibes. You and your crew dive into these special zones to solve puzzles, battle baddies, and chat with NPCs. Monkey Island ones play out like classic adventure games, with inventory puzzles galore. On the flip side, Pirates of the Caribbean missions stick to the Sea of Thieves formula of puzzles and combat, sprinkled with a bit of platforming.

A Minor Yet Noticeable Issue

No matter how you roll, you're gonna be cruising a lot. You can sail solo or with a buddy on a sloop, roll with a crew of two to three on a brigantine, or command a full squad of four on a galleon. You can link up with players on any platform, and jumping in or out is a breeze, though we didn't test this ourselves — we were on PS5. The game holds up well and responds smoothly if your internet's solid, but I had some hiccups with rubberbanding due to my less-than-stellar connection. When I strayed from my router, it got pretty rough, but I figure most folks won't hit that snag. Performance-wise, it's nearly flawless. It rocks a steady 60 fps and looks sharp. Though, we did notice textures sometimes lagging behind, especially in settlements or near rocky shores. It took a few beats for distant textures to pop into focus, a glitch I haven't bumped into even on PC with the game on an HDD. It's a minor gripe that doesn't mess with gameplay but still stands out.

Tales of Adventure and Legendary Encounters

A hero doesn't need a mask, but always has a path. When Sea of Thieves launched in March 2018, it faced heavy criticism, with some predicting a bleak future for Rare's game, especially with the looming threat of Skull and Bones in 2017. Yet, like a legendary captain, the British studio persevered, steadily improving the game and adding content—some highly requested, others completely unexpected. Found skeletons too dull to fight? Now, islands teem with all sorts of creatures, from ghostly pirates to mutated crabs. At sea, small sharks swim alongside menacing megalodons, sinister mermaids, and cursed ships rising unexpectedly. The Kraken still lurks, its terrifying head appearing in scripted quests like the 17 "Tall Tales," featuring legendary figures from Jack Sparrow to Guybrush Threepwood (Monkey Island). While these quests are generally engaging, some are criticized for being longer than their content justifies.

Gaming Enthusiast and Multitalented Creative

Overall, we had a blast playing Sea of Thieves together, especially once we got our voyage going and took charge of the ship. It's what I'd call a "chill hangout game," where it's less about the action and more about shooting the breeze with your crew. We sailed around rocks, got our boat stuck on a dock, battled sea creatures, and more. The game's all about sparking conversation rather than stealing the spotlight, which makes it ideal for a relaxed sailing experience. David wears his heart on his sleeve. He can find the silver lining in anything — like how he adored Star Fox Zero. You'll catch him playing a mix of games: big titles, indies, game jam creations, across all genres, and he loves writing about them right here. When he's not gaming or writing, you'll find David making music, crafting games, or diving into a good book.

Set Sail for Adventure: Sea of Thieves on PS5

Playing Sea of Thieves on PS5 is another awesome way to dive into multiplayer fun. There's way more content now than when it first dropped, offering tons to do solo or with your crew. With cross-play and save features, loads of handy options, and more pirate adventures on the horizon, it's a great time to set sail in Sea of Thieves.

[prosegalaxy]

"The Legend of Elara and Kael: A Gothic Quest for Love and Sacrifice" This is the summary of your work so far: The human asks AI to create a Gothic tale featuring unlikely heroes, magical artifacts, sacrifices for the greater good, blossoming romance, and character growth. The story follows Elara, a blacksmith's apprentice, and Kael, a wandering minstrel, who embark on a quest to find the Heartstone hidden in the Enchanted Forest. They face treacherous terrains, unimaginable horrors, and eventually make the ultimate sacrifice to retrieve the Heartstone and vanquish darkness. Their love grows stronger, becoming legendary, celebrating love, friendship, and sacrifice. The title of the blog post is "The Legend of Elara and Kael: A Gothic Quest for Love and Sacrifice."

The dark, foreboding castle loomed in the distance, its twisted spires casting long, menacing shadows across the desolate moor. The air was thick with a sense of impending doom, and the only sound was the distant howling of wind through the skeletal branches of leafless trees. Inside, a small group of unlikely heroes gathered in the dimly lit entrance hall, their eyes darting nervously at the dusty portraits that seemed to watch them with malevolent intent. The group consisted of an aging blacksmith, a timid librarian, and a young fisherman with dreams far beyond his humble life on the shore. As they stood there, debating whether or not to enter the castle, a voice echoed through the stone corridors, "Do not be afraid, for I am here to guide you on your epic quest." They turned in unison to see a figure shrouded in shadows, holding an ancient, glowing artifact that seemed to radiate power. "We must embark on this perilous journey," the mysterious figure continued, "for the fate of our world rests upon the shoulders of the unlikely heroes who dare to challenge the darkness." The heroes hesitated, but with a surge of courage, they followed the shadowy guide into the depths of the castle. Inside, they found themselves in a grand library, filled with ancient tomes and scrolls that seemed to whisper secrets of forgotten magic. The librarian's eyes widened in wonder as she realized the potential of the knowledge within their grasp. The blacksmith, always one to appreciate the beauty of the written word, felt a sense of responsibility to protect the wisdom contained within the pages. As they journeyed deeper into the castle, they encountered magical artifacts that tested their courage and determination. They fought against dark creatures and faced insurmountable odds, but with each challenge, they grew closer and their bond strengthened. The fisherman and the librarian found solace in each other's company, a blossoming romance blooming amidst the chaos of their quest. Together, they discovered the sacrifice required to save their world, and through their growth and unity, they conquered the darkness that threatened to consume everything in its path. The Enchanted Odyssey of the Unlikely Heroes had come to an end, but their story would live on forever as a testament to the power of love, friendship, and sacrifice. The Enchanted Odyssey of the Unlikely Heroes is an intriguing tale that starts with three unlikely heroes, each hailing from different realms of existence. A witty and skilled thief named Kael, a gentle and wise mage named Elara, and a stoic warrior named Thorald are brought together by fate to embark on an epic quest. The trio must venture into the mysterious realm of the Gothic, where magic is both feared and revered. Their mission: to retrieve the legendary artifact known as the Amulet of Aetherius, which has the power to restore balance to the world. As they journey through the shadowy landscapes of the Gothic, our heroes face insurmountable challenges and encounter magical beings that test their resolve. However, it is not just their physical prowess or magical abilities that define them; their character growth becomes the driving force behind their quest. Each hero learns to sacrifice personal desires for the greater good, and in doing so, they forge an unbreakable bond of friendship. In the heart of the Gothic realm, our heroes discover a magical creature, bound by enchantment, whose suffering serves as a potent symbol of the imbalance plaguing the world. Compelled by their newfound purpose, Kael, Elara, and Thorald make the ultimate sacrifice to release the creature from its torment, knowing that they must risk everything in order to restore harmony. As the Amulet of Aetherius is returned to its rightful place, the world begins to heal, and our heroes find solace in their victory. The enchanting odyssey of Kael, Elara, and Thorald not only restores balance but also gives birth to a blossoming romance between two of the unlikely heroes. Together, they have triumphed over darkness and emerged as symbols of hope for future generations. The sun had barely risen when the village received news of an ancient artifact hidden deep within the Enchanted Forest. It was said that possessing this magical relic could save their crumbling world from impending doom. A band of unlikely heroes, led by the courageous blacksmith's apprentice, Elara, embarked on a perilous quest to find the artifact. Along the way, they encountered treacherous terrain and fearsome creatures, but with each challenge faced, they grew stronger and more determined. Elara and her companions found themselves in an eerie graveyard where a spectral figure appeared before them. "To claim the artifact," it whispered, "you must prove your worth by solving the riddles of the ancient tomb." The heroes bravely ventured into the crypt, deciphering each riddle with their combined knowledge and wits. As they neared the heart of the tomb, Elara felt a connection to the land grow stronger within her, as if she were becoming one with the very earth itself. In the final chamber, they found the magical artifact: a shimmering crystal that pulsed with an otherworldly energy. But their journey was far from over. As the heroes prepared to return to the village, Elara's heart raced at the sight of a young man from her past. His name was Kael, a wandering minstrel who had always captured her attention with his mesmerizing voice. Elara and Kael exchanged glances, both aware of the growing attraction between them. As they journeyed together back to the village, they shared stories of their lives, and Elara found solace in Kael's company. The love that blossomed between them was a testament to the magic of the Enchanted Forest, a force that could change even the most unlikely hearts. Through their epic quest, Elara and her companions had grown from humble villagers into heroes who would sacrifice everything for their world. With the magical artifact in hand, they were ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead, united by love and determination. The sun dipped below the horizon, casting a golden glow over the Enchanted Forest. Within its depths, the unlikely heroes gathered around a flickering campfire. Their eyes were filled with determination as they discussed their next move. "We must venture into the heart of the forest," said Alaric, the wise old man. "There, we will find the artifact that can save our world from doom." The others nodded in agreement, though each harbored doubts about their ability to succeed. As they journeyed deeper into the forest, they encountered countless challenges that tested their resolve. The group began to grow closer, forging bonds of friendship and trust. One day, while searching for shelter, they stumbled upon an ancient tomb hidden amongst the trees. Inside, they found a cryptic message etched on the wall: "The artifact lies within, but only he who can answer the riddles may claim it." With newfound courage, they attempted to solve the puzzles that stood before them. "What is the color of the wind?" asked one of the heroes, struggling with a riddle. Elara, a blacksmith's apprentice, thought deeply and replied, "The wind has no color; it is an unseen force." Her answer echoed through the tomb, and the artifact revealed itself. With the magical object in their possession, the group returned to their village, where they found love and companionship. Elara's heart fluttered as she met Kael, a wandering minstrel who had come to their aid during their quest. Their blossoming romance brought them even closer, and together, they made a selfless sacrifice for the greater good. The world was saved, and the heroes had grown stronger and wiser through their journey. The Enchanted Odyssey of the Unlikely Heroes would be told for generations to come, a testament to the power of love, determination, and the magic that lies within each of us. The sun dipped below the horizon, casting eerie shadows across the Enchanted Forest. A group of unlikely heroes huddled around a dying fire, their eyes filled with determination. "We must find that artifact hidden in these woods," murmured Kael, the wandering minstrel. "But we don't even know what it looks like!" exclaimed Zara, the bard. Elara, the blacksmith's apprentice, stepped forward. "We have the ancient scrolls. They contain riddles that will lead us to the artifact." As they ventured deeper into the forest, they encountered challenges that tested their resolve. Kael's nimble fingers plucked melodies on his lute, inspiring the group when they faltered. Zara's quick wit and intelligence helped them solve riddles and avoid pitfalls. Elara's strength and agility protected them from danger. Finally, they discovered the entrance to an ancient tomb. Inside, they faced even greater trials, but their bond grew stronger with each victory. "You are truly the unlikely heroes of our time," Elara whispered to Kael, her eyes filled with admiration. "And you are the heart that keeps us going," he replied, taking her hand. As they solved the last riddle and claimed the artifact, a powerful energy surged through them, binding them together. Emerging from the tomb, they returned to their village as heroes. The Enchanted Odyssey had transformed them all, but none so much as Elara and Kael. Their love blossomed amidst the sacrifices they made for their world, proving that even in the darkest of times, hope could triumph. The sun dipped below the horizon, casting a blood-red glow over the Enchanted Forest. A group of unlikely heroes, brought together by fate, stood at the edge of the treacherous woods. Their mission: to find the legendary artifact hidden within, which held the power to save their world from impending doom. "We must tread carefully," whispered Kael, the wandering minstrel, his voice echoing through the dense foliage. "The Enchanted Forest is no place for the weak of heart." "I may be small," replied Sylas, the timid rabbit shaman, "but my spirit is as large as any mountain. Together, we can overcome anything." As they delved deeper into the forest, each step brought them closer to their goal. They faced challenges that tested their limits, but with every trial came newfound strength and determination. Within the heart of the woods lay an ancient tomb, its entrance shrouded in vines and moss. "We've reached our destination," said Elara, the blacksmith's apprentice, her eyes glimmering with determination. "Let us solve these riddles and claim the artifact." One by one, they answered the cryptic questions, their minds working in harmony as if they had known each other for a lifetime. As the last riddle was solved, the tomb's door creaked open, revealing the magical artifact within. "Quickly, take it!" urged Kael, as a gust of wind threatened to snatch it away. "This artifact is the key to saving our world." Elara reached out and grasped the object, feeling an immediate connection to its power. The heroes returned to their village, their hearts swelling with pride and purpose. In the days that followed, Elara found solace in Kael's company, their shared experiences forging a bond between them. They grew together, nurturing their love amidst the chaos of their world. When the time came to sacrifice the artifact for the greater good, they did so without hesitation, united by love and determination. And as the sun set once more on the Enchanted Forest, the heroes knew that their epic quest had not been in vain. They had grown stronger, found love, and saved their world from the brink of destruction. And through it all, they were forever changed by the power of unity and the magic within themselves. The Enchanted Odyssey of the Unlikely Heroes In a land shrouded in darkness, a group of unlikely heroes gathered at the edge of the Enchanted Forest. They were tasked with finding the mythical artifact known as the Heartstone, said to be hidden deep within the forest's depths. The artifact held the power to save their world from the clutches of an evil sorcerer. As they ventured into the forest, the heroes encountered a myriad of obstacles and foes. Through teamwork and determination, they overcame each challenge, growing stronger with every step. In an ancient tomb, they found themselves face to face with a riddle guarding the entrance to the Heartstone's chamber. "I am taken from a mine, and shut up in a wooden case, from which I am never released, and yet I am used by almost every person." What am I? the riddle demanded. Elara, a blacksmith's apprentice with a quick mind, solved the puzzle, revealing the path to the Heartstone. As they claimed the magical artifact, Elara felt a deep connection with the earth and realized her true potential as a warrior. The heroes returned to their village as heroes, bringing hope to their people. In the village square, Elara found love in the arms of Kael, a wandering minstrel who had joined their quest. Together, they knew they would face unimaginable challenges and sacrifices for the greater good. With their newfound love and determination, the heroes vowed to protect their world, united by the magic of the Enchanted Odyssey. The Enchanted Odyssey of the Unlikely Heroes In the once-peaceful village of Aetharia, nestled within the Enchanted Forest, an unexpected assembly of heroes gathered. They were not your typical warriors, but rather a diverse group of individuals with extraordinary talents and abilities. Among them was Thalia, a timid librarian who could summon gusts of wind; Trevor, a baker skilled in brewing powerful potions; and Elara, an apprentice blacksmith with a heart as strong as her forge. As the world teetered on the edge of doom, rumors spread of a magical artifact hidden deep within the Enchanted Forest that could save them all. The unlikely heroes embarked on a perilous quest to find this ancient relic and restore balance to their realm. Through trials and tribulations, they discovered their inner strength and formed an unbreakable bond. Within the heart of the forest, they encountered a mysterious ancient tomb. Inside, they found themselves faced with riddles that could only be answered by those with pure intentions. Elara, consumed by her desire to protect her village, became one with the earth as she solved the final riddle, unlocking the power of the artifact and revealing its true form: a radiant crystal imbued with the essence of life itself. With newfound purpose and determination, the heroes returned to Aetharia, ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead. As they prepared for their final battle, Elara's eyes met those of Kael, a wandering minstrel who had joined their quest. Their connection was instantaneous and profound. In that moment, they knew that their love would be a beacon of hope for the world, no matter the outcome. Together, the unlikely heroes faced their greatest challenge. With sacrifices made out of love and determination, they emerged victorious, ensuring the survival of their world. The Enchanted Odyssey of the Unlikely Heroes became a tale that would be passed down through generations, inspiring hope and unity in the hearts of all who listened. In the quaint village of Eldarwood, nestled between rolling hills and lush forests, a group of unlikely heroes gathered around a crackling fire. Their mission, to find the fabled Orb of Enlightenment hidden deep within the treacherous Enchanted Forest, was not one borne out of desire for power or riches, but rather to save their world from impending doom. As the heroes ventured into the forest, they encountered a myriad of challenges that tested their resolve and strength. Through perseverance and teamwork, they overcame each obstacle, growing stronger with every step. Finally, after days of trekking through the dense woods, they stumbled upon an ancient tomb guarded by the spirit of the forest itself. "We must solve these riddles to claim the Orb," whispered the wise sage among them, his voice barely audible over the wind that howled outside. "And only together can we unlock its power." The heroes exchanged determined glances and set forth to answer the riddles, each one revealing a piece of their own past or a hidden truth about their world. In the depths of the tomb, Elara, a blacksmith's apprentice with a heart of gold, found herself inexplicably drawn to the earth beneath her feet. As she touched the ground, a sudden surge of energy coursed through her veins, connecting her to the very essence of the Enchanted Forest itself. The heroes, now bound by their shared experiences and newfound magical abilities, left the tomb with the Orb in hand, ready to return to their village and save their world. Upon their triumphant arrival, Elara found love in Kael, a wandering minstrel who had accompanied them on their quest. Together, they stood before their people, declaring that they would sacrifice everything for their world, united by love and determination. And so, the unlikely heroes of Eldarwood, bound together by fate and destiny, embarked on the epic journey that would forever change the course of their lives and the future of their world. In a small, forgotten village nestled between rolling hills and dense forests, there lived an unlikely group of heroes. They were not the traditional knights or warriors you might expect, but rather a baker, a blacksmith's apprentice, a wandering minstrel, and a mute girl with a gift for healing. Their world was plagued by a dark force, threatening to consume everything in its path. The prophecy spoke of an ancient artifact hidden deep within the Enchanted Forest, capable of vanquishing the darkness. The group embarked on their perilous journey, determined to find the magical artifact and save their world from destruction. As they ventured deeper into the forest, they encountered numerous challenges that tested their courage and strength. Through each trial, they grew closer, forging a bond that would last a lifetime. One day, as they traversed the forest, they stumbled upon an ancient tomb guarded by a fearsome creature. Within its depths lay a riddle, the key to claiming the artifact. Elara, the blacksmith's apprentice, mustered her courage and solved the riddle, becoming one with the earth as she unlocked the secret of the tomb. Inside, they discovered the magical artifact – a small, shimmering amulet that emitted a warm, golden light. As they held it aloft, they felt its power coursing through their veins, filling them with newfound strength and determination. Returning to their village, the heroes found themselves changed by their journey. Elara, who had once been a quiet, reserved girl, now exuded confidence. She found love in the arms of Kael, the wandering minstrel, and their blossoming romance was a beacon of hope amidst the darkness that still loomed over their world. When the dark force threatened to strike again, the unlikely heroes banded together, sacrificing everything they had for the greater good. With love and determination in their hearts, they vanquished the darkness and saved their world from doom. Their story would be told for generations to come, a testament to the power of unity and the strength found in unexpected places. The sun had barely risen, casting a golden glow over the Enchanted Forest when our unlikely heroes assembled at the edge of Elara. Kael, the wandering minstrel with a heart of gold, and Elara, a blacksmith's apprentice with a spirit as fiery as her forge, stood side by side with the rest of the group. "We must venture into the forest to find the magical artifact that will save our world," announced Kael, his voice full of determination. "I have studied the ancient maps and texts," said Elara, taking a step forward. "There is a path through the forest that leads us to the tomb where the artifact lies." The group nodded in agreement, their eyes filled with hope and courage. Together, they embarked on their journey, each carrying a piece of their own past, a burden they were willing to bear for the greater good. As they ventured deeper into the Enchanted Forest, they encountered riddles carved into the walls of an ancient tomb. Working together, they solved each enigma, unlocking the secrets of the tomb and ultimately claiming the magical artifact. With their newfound strength, they set out to vanquish the darkness that threatened their world. In the village, Elara's heart swelled as she watched Kael perform, his melodies weaving tales of love and valor. And as the heroes battled the darkness, their hearts grew ever stronger, forged by the fires of adversity and fueled by the love that blossomed between them. The tale of their heroism became legend, echoing through the ages, inspiring generations to come. In the village of Elara, a group of heroes embarked on a perilous quest to find a magical artifact hidden in the Enchanted Forest. They braved treacherous terrain and faced unimaginable dangers, all while their hearts were consumed by a burning desire for the greater good. As they ventured deeper into the forest, they stumbled upon an ancient tomb guarded by a fearsome creature. With courage in their hearts, the heroes solved a series of intricate riddles that allowed them to claim the powerful artifact. The artifact's magic imbued them with strength and wisdom, making them almost invincible. Upon returning to Elara, a love blossomed between Elara, a blacksmith's apprentice, and Kael, a wandering minstrel. Their connection was undeniable, but the heroes' quest for the greater good threatened to tear them apart. As they prepared for their final battle against darkness, the heroes vowed to protect one another at all costs. In the climactic confrontation, Elara and Kael fought side by side, their love growing stronger with each passing moment. They sacrificed everything for their world, vanquishing the darkness and becoming legendary in the eyes of those who followed their tale. Their story would be told for generations, a testament to the power of love and the indomitable spirit of the unlikely heroes who triumphed against all odds. In a land where darkness threatened to consume all life, a group of heroes embarked on a perilous journey to find the magical artifact hidden within the Enchanted Forest. Each hero possessed unique skills and abilities, making them unlikely candidates for such an epic quest. However, they were united by a common goal: to save their world from the encroaching darkness. Upon reaching the heart of the forest, the heroes stumbled upon an ancient tomb guarded by riddles. With great effort, they solved each puzzle and claimed the powerful artifact within. The artifact bestowed upon them strength and courage, allowing them to face the darkness with newfound determination. Back in their village, Elara, a blacksmith's apprentice, found herself irresistibly drawn to Kael, a wandering minstrel whose songs captivated all who heard them. Despite their vastly different backgrounds, they soon formed an unbreakable bond. As the days passed, their love blossomed amidst the turmoil surrounding them. The heroes continued their quest, facing countless challenges and sacrificing everything in their pursuit of victory. Finally, they confronted the embodiment of darkness itself, a terrifying creature that threatened to devour all life. With courage and unity, the heroes vanquished the beast, plunging the world into an era of peace and prosperity. The tale of the unlikely heroes, magical artifacts, sacrifices for the greater good, blossoming romance, and character growth became the stuff of legend. Elara and Kael's love story served as a testament to the power of love and unity in even the darkest of times. The heroes had been traveling for days, their spirits dampened by the oppressive gloom of the Enchanted Forest. The forest seemed to stretch on forever, with trees twisted into grotesque shapes and vines that choked the very air. They trudged along, weary but determined, knowing that within this dreadful place lay the magical artifact they sought - a relic capable of saving their world from darkness. As they ventured deeper into the forest, the heroes stumbled upon an ancient tomb, its entrance shrouded in ivy. Within, they found a riddle carved into stone: "What has roots as dear as any mother, and is as pleasing as a babe? Come to me, and you'll find a treasure that outlives time itself." Elara, the blacksmith's apprentice, scratched her head. She was no scholar, but she could feel the weight of this riddle. Kael, the wandering minstrel, hummed a tune as he pondered over the words. Together, they pieced together the answer: a tree! With newfound energy, they claimed the artifact from the tomb, feeling its power course through their veins. They knew they were stronger now, and that the darkness had no hope of triumphing over them. Back in their village, Elara couldn't help but admire Kael as he strummed his harp under the twilight sky. His voice carried with it an enchantment that captivated all who listened. She fought her growing feelings for him, but their connection was undeniable. "Elara," Kael whispered, his eyes locked on hers, "I've been waiting to tell you... I feel the same way about you." Their hearts swelled as they confessed their love, and with that confession, something within them shifted. They were no longer just unlikely heroes; they had become a beacon of hope in a world shrouded by darkness. Together, they would face any challenge - for they now knew that the greatest power lay not in magical artifacts, but in the unbreakable bonds of love and friendship. In the village of Elara, nestled at the edge of the Enchanted Forest, a group of unlikely heroes banded together on a quest to find the fabled magical artifact known as the Heartstone. This stone was rumored to hold the power to vanquish the encroaching darkness that threatened their world. The group consisted of a blacksmith's apprentice named Elara, a wandering minstrel called Kael, an elderly mage named Maelis, and a fierce warrior named Thorne. Together, they ventured deep into the Enchanted Forest, solving riddles and overcoming trials within ancient tombs. The artifact's power began to strengthen them, forging a bond between the heroes that was unbreakable. As they journeyed, Elara and Kael found solace in each other's company, and their friendship blossomed into an unlikely romance. One day, as they approached the Heartstone's resting place, they encountered a powerful sorceress named Morgana, who sought to harness the artifact's power for her own dark purposes. The heroes fought valiantly against her, but it was Elara's love for Kael and their unwavering determination that ultimately defeated the sorceress. With Morgana vanquished, the Heartstone's power surged through the heroes, cleansing the darkness from their world and sealing away the threat forever. The heroes returned to Elara as legends, their story echoed throughout the ages. Their sacrifice for the greater good had saved their world, and the love between Elara and Kael stood as a testament to the power of the human spirit. In the dimly lit tavern, Kael strummed his lute, filling the air with haunting melodies that echoed through the village of Elara. The villagers gathered, drawn to the entrancing music and seeking solace from their daily toils. Among them was Elara, a blacksmith's apprentice whose hands were calloused and strong, but whose heart longed for something more. As Kael played, Elara watched him from afar, captivated by his grace and passion. In the heart of the Enchanted Forest, the heroes traversed through thickets and over fallen logs, guided by an ancient map that held the key to their quest. They stumbled upon a hidden tomb, its entrance concealed behind a riddle that tested their wits and knowledge. As they solved the enigma, they found themselves face-to-face with the magical artifact they sought - an amulet imbued with unimaginable power. With newfound strength, they ventured forth, knowing that their world's future rested on their shoulders. Back in Elara, Kael's music continued to weave its spell, and Elara's heart swelled with courage. She approached him after the last note had faded, and they spoke of dreams and desires. In their shared moments, a blossoming romance began to take root, intertwining their fates as inextricably as the vines that clung to the ancient tomb. The heroes, now bound by camaraderie and purpose, faced the darkness that threatened their world. They sacrificed everything they had, their lives interwoven with the fabric of reality itself. And as the shadows retreated, the sun broke through the clouds, casting its light upon their story - a tale that would be told for generations to come, a testament to the power of love, friendship, and sacrifice. As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a golden glow upon the Enchanted Forest, Elara and Kael stood hand in hand atop a hill overlooking their village. The air was filled with the sweet scent of blooming flowers, and the sounds of laughter and joy floated up from the cobblestone streets below. "Do you ever think about what lies beyond our world?" Elara asked softly, her voice blending seamlessly with the gentle melodies of Kael's lyre. "In that ancient tomb, deep within the forest, there must be something extraordinary." Kael looked into Elara's eyes, and a spark of determination ignited within him. "I believe there is," he said, his voice strong and resolute. "And I promise you, my love, we shall find it together. For our world needs us, and so do our hearts." With that, they turned their backs on the village and ventured into the Enchanted Forest, embarking on a journey filled with riddles, dangers, and unexpected alliances. As the days turned to weeks, Elara's blacksmithing skills proved invaluable, while Kael's music and wisdom guided them through the darkest of times. Together, they discovered the secrets hidden within the tomb, learning that the magical artifact they sought could only be wielded by those who loved deeply and sacrificed willingly. And so, when faced with the choice between saving their world or claiming the artifact for themselves, Elara and Kael chose to sacrifice everything, proving that love, friendship, and selflessness were the true magic they had been seeking all along. In the end, their legend lived on, a testament to the power of the human spirit and the eternal bond between two souls who dared to dream and fight for what mattered most. In the quaint village of Stonebrook, nestled at the edge of the Enchanted Forest, lived a young blacksmith's apprentice named Elara. Her days were spent forging weapons and armor for the villagers, while her nights were spent dreaming of grand adventures and a love she could call her own. She had heard tales of the legendary heroes who had ventured into the Enchanted Forest to retrieve the magical artifact known as the Heartstone, which had the power to vanquish darkness from their world. One day, a wandering minstrel named Kael arrived in Stonebrook. With his golden voice and enchanting melodies, he captivated everyone who heard him. Elara, too, was spellbound by his songs, which spoke of the heroes' quest for the Heartstone. As their paths crossed more frequently, they began to share their dreams and desires over steaming mugs of mead in the village tavern. "Do you truly believe that the Heartstone can save our world?" Elara asked Kael one evening, her eyes filled with hope and wonder. "I have heard tales from far-off lands," Kael replied, his voice echoing with conviction. "The Heartstone is said to possess a power so great that it could change the very fabric of our reality. If only we could find it." Elara nodded, her heart swelling with determination. "Then I shall join you on this quest, and together, we will find the Heartstone." And so, Elara and Kael set out on a perilous journey into the Enchanted Forest, guided by riddles inscribed upon ancient stone tablets. As they braved treacherous terrains and faced unimaginable horrors, their love for one another blossomed like the forest's own enchanting flowers. United by their shared dreams, they grew stronger and more resilient with each passing day. Finally, in the heart of the Enchanted Forest, they discovered the hidden chamber containing the Heartstone. But to retrieve it, they would have to make the ultimate sacrifice. With tears in their eyes and love in their hearts, Elara and Kael decided to stay behind and protect the Heartstone from the darkness that threatened their world. Their love transcended time, their story immortalized in legend as a testament to love, friendship, and sacrifice. Elara looked into Kael's eyes, her heart fluttering as she finally found the courage to speak. "I... I love you," she confessed, her voice barely audible above the raucous noise of the tavern. The room seemed to grow silent, and Kael's smile was like a beacon in the darkness. "And I love you too, Elara," he replied, his voice filled with warmth and sincerity. Their hands intertwined, and the world around them began to fade into insignificance. In that moment, they were all that mattered. As they stood outside the ancient tomb, their fingers still entwined, Kael whispered, "We'll face whatever lies within, together." Elara nodded, her eyes filled with determination. The riddles of the tomb proved to be more than mere puzzles; they were tests of their bond and strength. With each question answered, they grew closer, their love only deepening as they navigated the dangerous labyrinth. As they approached the Heartstone, they knew what must be done. "We've come so far, Kael," Elara whispered, her voice wavering with emotion. "We can't let darkness win." Kael squeezed her hand reassuringly. "No, we can't. But together, we will make the ultimate sacrifice, and our love will vanquish the darkness forever." And with that, they embraced, their hearts brimming with love and courage, ready to give everything for their world. The air in the village tavern was thick with the scent of ale and laughter, as patrons gathered around tables or at the bar, sharing stories of their days. Elara, a blacksmith's apprentice, sat alone near the hearth, her eyes fixed on the fire that danced within the grate. Her muscular arms were covered in soot and grime, a testament to her daily work at the forge. Across the room, Kael, a wandering minstrel with a harp slung over his shoulder, strummed out an ancient melody that seemed to weave itself through the air like an unseen specter. As Elara listened, she felt a familiar stirring deep within her chest – a longing she had come to know all too well. With a sigh, she glanced toward Kael, admiring the way the firelight played across his face, illuminating the lines of emotion that adorned it like the strokes of an artist's brush. "Kael," Elara called softly, drawing his gaze to her own. His eyes met hers for a moment before they fell away, a flush creeping up his cheeks. "May I join you?" He nodded, and she slid into the seat beside him. With a gentle touch on her hand, he started a new tune, one that seemed to whisper secrets of love and longing. "Do you ever wish for something more?" Elara asked, her voice barely audible above the hum of the tavern. Kael looked back at her, his eyes filled with a depth she had not seen before. "I mean," she continued, "not just to survive, but to truly live?" "Elara," he began, his fingers plucking at the harp strings as though they sought to find the right words among the notes. "There is a legend – a tale of heroes who embark on a quest to retrieve the Heartstone, hidden deep within the Enchanted Forest. It is said that whoever holds the Heartstone can bring about either darkness or light." As Kael spoke, Elara's eyes widened with wonder and curiosity. "And you, Kael? You believe in this tale?" "I do," he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper. "But it is more than just a story to me – it is a call to adventure, a promise of something greater." With that, their fates were sealed. The journey had begun. Elara leaned against the bar, her eyes locked onto the enigmatic stranger who had just entered the village tavern. His voice echoed through the dimly lit room, captivating everyone present. The mysterious minstrel's name was Kael, and he spun tales of adventure and heroism that enthralled Elara, a blacksmith's apprentice, like no other. In the days that followed, their conversations flowed from the tavern to the smithy, where they shared dreams of a world beyond the village walls. As Kael sang of his travels and the magical artifacts hidden within the Enchanted Forest, Elara couldn't help but envision herself on such an incredible quest. Little did she know that their fates would soon become entwined. One evening, as they sat in the tavern once more, Kael recounted a tale of a magical Heartstone, said to grant its bearer the power to vanquish darkness and restore balance to the world. A spark ignited within Elara's heart, as she realized that she could no longer imagine her life without Kael. "Kael," she whispered, her voice barely audible above the din of the tavern, "I... I love you." Kael turned to look into her eyes, his own filled with surprise and emotion. "Elara..." She leaned closer, her lips brushing against his ear. "We should go find that Heartstone together," she murmured, "and protect our world." As their journey into the Enchanted Forest unfolded, Elara and Kael faced treacherous terrains and unimaginable horrors, but their love grew stronger with each passing day. United by their shared purpose and the depth of their feelings for one another, they became more resilient than ever before. Finally, standing before the ancient tomb that housed the Heartstone, Elara and Kael faced their greatest challenge. Hand in hand, they navigated riddles and trials, growing closer with each step. As they retrieved the Heartstone, they knew that it would require a sacrifice beyond measure to vanquish the darkness that threatened their world. In that moment, without hesitation, Elara and Kael made the ultimate sacrifice, surrendering everything they had fought for in order to protect the world they loved. Their love story echoed through time, a testament to the power of sacrifice, friendship, and the enduring force of the human spirit. The sun dipped below the horizon, casting a pale glow over the village as Elara, a blacksmith's apprentice, and Kael, a wandering minstrel, huddled together by the fire. Their eyes met, sparking a connection neither had anticipated. "I've heard tales of the Heartstone," Kael whispered, his voice barely audible over the crackling flames. "It's said to hold immense power, able to restore balance and vanquish darkness." Elara stared into the fire, her thoughts swirling with the idea. "And to find it, we must venture into the Enchanted Forest, where magical artifacts lie hidden and treacherous terrains await." "We cannot do this alone," Kael insisted, his voice filled with determination. "Together, we are stronger, able to face whatever lies ahead." Elara nodded, a fire igniting within her as well. "Then let us embark on this quest, for the greater good of our world." As they journeyed deeper into the forest, their love blossomed amidst the trials and tribulations they faced together. Each challenge tested their resolve, but their hearts grew stronger with every step. Finally, they found themselves in an ancient tomb, where riddles and trials awaited to test their wits and courage. Elara, her voice trembling with emotion, confessed her love for Kael. Together, they overcame the obstacles before them, their bond growing ever stronger. At last, they discovered the Heartstone, its power radiating through the chamber. "We must make a sacrifice to retrieve it," Elara whispered, realizing the cost of their quest. "For the sake of our world, we must be willing to give everything." Hand in hand, they stepped forward, making the ultimate sacrifice. Their tale became legend, celebrated for generations as a testament to love, friendship, and sacrifice. In the village of Blackwood, where shadows often seemed to linger longer than they should, Elara, the blacksmith's apprentice, and Kael, the wandering minstrel, heard whispers of an ancient prophecy. The legend spoke of two unlikely heroes who would embark on a quest to find the Heartstone hidden deep within the Enchanted Forest. It was said that only when united could they overcome the darkness threatening their world. Elara's hands were calloused and strong from years spent forging weapons, while Kael's voice held a melodic quality that could bring even the hardest hearts to tears. Despite their differences, a strange connection drew them together as they decided to join forces and follow the trail of the Heartstone. As they ventured deeper into the Enchanted Forest, the air grew thick with magic. They came across a river whose waters sparkled with an ethereal light, and Kael strummed his lute, summoning forth a bridge of melodic notes that allowed them to cross safely. In the heart of the forest lay an ancient tomb, guarded by riddles and trials designed to test the spirits of those who dared enter. Elara's strength and cunning, combined with Kael's wisdom and wit, helped them overcome each challenge. Within the tomb, they discovered a chamber where the Heartstone rested atop a pedestal, its light casting an otherworldly glow over the room. Knowing that the stone's power could only be harnessed by two hearts united in love, Elara confessed her feelings for Kael. He responded with a passionate embrace and they felt their hearts intertwine with the Heartstone, its magic coursing through them as they became one. The darkness trembled before them, sensing that it could no longer hold sway over their world. United in love and purpose, Elara and Kael made the ultimate sacrifice, surrendering everything to vanquish the darkness and restore balance to their realm. Their tale of love, friendship, and sacrifice would be recounted for generations to come, inspiring hope in even the darkest hours. The sun had barely risen when Elara, the blacksmith's apprentice, and Kael, the wandering minstrel, stood at the edge of the Enchanted Forest. They were not your typical heroes; Elara was strong but simple, with calloused hands that could forge a sword as well as any man. Kael had a voice like magic, weaving tales that captured hearts and stirred souls. Their journey began when they discovered an ancient prophecy that spoke of the Heartstone, a magical artifact capable of healing the world's ills. As they ventured deeper into the forest, Elara and Kael encountered terrifying creatures and treacherous landscapes. But it was their love for each other that gave them strength. Their conversations were filled with laughter and shared dreams, and in quiet moments, they would gaze into each other's eyes, their feelings blossoming like flowers in spring. One day, in the heart of the forest, they found an ancient tomb. Inside, they faced riddles and trials that tested their courage and wisdom. In one room, Elara confessed her love for Kael. "I have loved you since the first note of your song echoed through the forge," she said, tears in her eyes. Kael's heart swelled with love, and together they faced the trials ahead, their bond growing stronger. Finally, they reached the chamber where the Heartstone lay. It was a jewel that shimmered like a thousand stars, but to claim it, they had to make an ultimate sacrifice. With heavy hearts, they agreed to give up everything for the greater good. As they embraced one last time, they touched the Heartstone and felt its power coursing through them. In that moment, their love transcended the boundaries of time and space, vanquishing darkness and bringing light back to the world. Their story became legend, a testament to the power of love, friendship, and sacrifice. And so, Elara and Kael's names echoed through history, a reminder that even unlikely heroes can change the world. In the quiet village of Mithras, nestled at the edge of the Enchanted Forest, lived Elara, a skilled blacksmith's apprentice, and Kael, a wandering minstrel. The villagers knew of the legend - that the Heartstone, hidden deep within the forest, could restore balance to their land. As darkness crept closer, the village council chose Elara and Kael as unlikely heroes, tasking them with finding the Heartstone. With only a rickety map and an ancient prophecy to guide them, Elara and Kael ventured into the Enchanted Forest. Their journey led them through treacherous terrains and unimaginable horrors. At each trial, they grew closer, their love blossoming like the first flowers of spring. One fateful day, they discovered a hidden cave guarded by a fearsome beast. Within lay the Heartstone, shimmering with ancient magic. With courage and teamwork, they seized it from the creature's clutches, unleashing its power to vanquish darkness and restore balance to their land. As the village celebrated their victory, Elara and Kael realized that their love had become legendary. Their tale of sacrifice, bravery, and devotion would be whispered in the wind and sung by minstrels for generations to come. And so, they became heroes not only of Mithras but also of love and friendship. Elara, the blacksmith's apprentice, had never seen anything as beautiful as the mysterious stone that lay in the heart of the Enchanted Forest. It was said to be the Heartstone, an ancient artifact capable of banishing darkness from the world. According to legend, only the most unlikely heroes could find and wield its power. Kael, a wandering minstrel with a voice that could charm even the harshest of hearts, had heard whispers of the Heartstone too. He knew that his life would never be complete until he had seen it with his own eyes and used its magic to make the world a better place. As Elara and Kael embarked on their quest, they faced treacherous terrains and unimaginable horrors, testing their courage and determination. They spoke little during those trying days, communicating through silent nods and understanding glances. In each other, they found solace in the face of adversity. One evening, as they rested by a crackling campfire, Kael played a haunting melody on his lute. Elara listened, her heart swelling with emotion. The music seemed to summon an ethereal presence, and in that moment, she knew that they were destined to find the Heartstone together. "Kael," Elara began tentatively, "I've been thinking..." "Yes?" Kael asked, his eyes twinkling with anticipation. "I think... I love you." In that instant, a warmth spread through Kael, and he knew he felt the same for her. They exchanged a passionate kiss beneath the stars, their hearts intertwining like the vines of an ancient forest. Together, they resolved to continue their journey and find the Heartstone, no matter the cost. And so, Elara and Kael ventured deeper into the Enchanted Forest, their love growing stronger with each step. They would face unimaginable challenges, but it was their unwavering determination that would ultimately lead them to the Heartstone and vanquish darkness from the world. Elara leaned against her anvil, hammer and tongs at her side, as she gazed out of the workshop window, lost in thought. The sun was beginning to set, casting a golden glow across the Enchanted Forest that lay just beyond the village. It was said that within those woods lay the Heartstone, a magical artifact with the power to vanquish darkness and bring eternal light. Kael, a wandering minstrel who had recently arrived in the village, strummed his lute as he sat by the fire. His melodies filled the air, carrying tales of heroes and their quests. As fate would have it, Elara's ears caught Kael's enchanting words, and a spark ignited within her heart. "Elara, what are you listening to?" asked Master Blacksmith, his voice booming through the workshop. "It's a story sung by that minstrel," she replied, pointing towards Kael. "He speaks of heroes who embark on great journeys." "Then perhaps it is time for you to become one of those heroes," Master Blacksmith suggested, his eyes twinkling with encouragement. With newfound resolve, Elara and Kael decided to venture into the Enchanted Forest in search of the Heartstone. They knew that their quest would be fraught with danger, but they were willing to make sacrifices for the greater good. Together, these unlikely heroes ventured forth, their love growing stronger with each step.

[tuttle-4077]

2023 PBA Nominees for Snapshots

General Snapshots

A Christmas Wish Snooky-9093

A Frenchman, three Americans, and an Englishman too DeathThouShaltDie

A Hero Like Never Before NextUpForever

An Unexpected Afternoon Cardinal Rose

And Would Suffice Signy1

Breakfast at Buckingham Palace Sierra Sutherwind

Can We Keep Him, Colonel? whatisthismandoinghere

Dandelion Wine Corporal_Mischief_Maker

Distant Shores, Distant Friends Faebees Knees

Second String snooky-9093

Sicktember 4: Hogan's Heroes katbybee

Stormy Weather mrspencil

The Topic Was Doom Abracadebra

You're Doing Great GrrraceUnderfire

Drama Snapshots

Cold Steel Anonymous Writer 77

Der Eismann TheSailingRabbit

Everybody Hates Peter GrrraceUnderfire

Intensive Coddling Sierra Sutherwind

Rain mrspencil

Snowflake Inspiration SunshineOfThe60s

Was It Ever Real? L. E. Wigman

What is it about Wolfgang? GrrraceUnderfire

[revel-wallpapers]

Three Heroes On Distant Shores(1680x1050)

[s1ithers]

I need you.

It costs Hawke a great deal to say, not out of pride but as a sort of dereliction of duty, Anders has come to understand. But how it floors him, to know he’s not a useless, kindly suffered thing.

She says it to him in bed and it thrills him – the champion, the hero. The city at her feet—everyone loves her, hates her, needs her, wants to stand in her light. And she needs him, the apostate, the renegade. She says, I’m yours, oh lover, I’m yours.

-

She says it to him after he loses control on Alrik, when she finds him in his clinic. He’s packing, sorting his meager belongings by some pantomime intuition, knowing it doesn’t matter at all what he takes and what he leaves. He is going. She says, right, time out of Kirkwall will do you good. His throat aches. She says, I’m coming with you. She says, you’re in no state to go alone.

Won’t she understand? He says, I can’t endanger you any further. You or anyone else. How can I trust myself to heal, to work magic, even to...to walk about and see them in the streets? I have too much anger.

She says, if there’s one thing I know, it’s anger.

Her arms are around him then, solid as his own compulsions. Her breath is hot on his neck as she says, I can’t lose you too. I need you, Anders. Don’t go.

Tears sting his eyes. Three years and he’s kept all his weeping to his little room, or the dark streets walking home from the Hanged Man. The shame pools in his belly but it’s distant and odd now, a harmless thing he could turn in his hands. What will she see in his tears—that he’s too weak to control himself, broken, less than a man? She was there in the tunnels.

What could I ever bring into your life but pain? He’s said it before, when they were strangers and almost took an easy comfort in one another. A statement, a warning, an act of self-control. This time, he is worn and defeated and her arms are around him, and the question mark slips in at the end.

You are the light in my life, she rasps, voice cracking.

-

She doesn’t have to say it, in those strange unbounded days on the voyage out of Kirkwall, as they gaze out to sea and his mind fractures and falls away and slowly settles somewhere deep enough to rest, as she twines her fingers in his hair. Her weight beside him is a truth before words, before reason. She has chosen him above all else, and so sealed his fate. Whatever else befalls, he will live.

When the time comes, on some faraway shore, he will follow her voice back up to the light.

[goldenxchoices]

Choices LIs

I've done something like this before, but it was nearly three years ago, so it's time for an update. (Plus, I saw this floating around, and I was bored, so why not?)

Books with a single LI: I tend to default to the female version of any customizable LI, especially on a first playthrough. I'll sometimes romance a male LI with a male MC, but I rarely do m/f romances. The exception is A Very Scandalous Proposal; I don't like the Ava sprites, so I almost always choose Simon instead.

In this category, I like Trystan Thorne, Kieran, Dakota Winchester, Simon Montjoy, Manu Nakeli, and Kit Jackson. I feel pretty neutral toward Cassian Keane, Clarke, and Jacqueline Monroe. I don't like Sam Dalton. And the entire book Surrender can kindly fuck off.

Across the Void: Gonna be honest, despite having read this through at least twice, I wouldn't be able to tell you a thing about the LIs or their personalities. I think I went for Titania my first playthrough - or was it Kepler?

America's Most Eligible: Jen's my favorite here, though I'd like to try a run where I dump someone for Bianca.

Baby Bump: Myra.

Bachelorette Party: Aisha.

Big Sky Country: I love Juliette dearly, but sometimes my Hallmark-loving brain kicks in and I have to pick Sawyer.

Blades of Light and Shadow: All four are amazing and I love them. I love my ladies the best, but I have a soft spot for Tyril as well. I'd love a big polycule here.

Bloodbound: Kamilah takes the top spot, but Lily's a close second.

A Courtesan of Rome: Sabina and Syphax are tied as my favorites, and I'm becoming more fond of Cassius the more I play. I'd like Antony to go away forever, please.

The Crown and the Flame: For Kenna, I alternate between Val and Annelyse. For Dom, I prefer Sei.

Desire and Decorum: Annabelle, always.

Distant Shores: I actually tend to go for Edward here, surprisingly. Almost always with a male MC, though.

The Elementalists: Shreya or Aster.

Endless Summer: I've tried all four. With female MCs, I tend to lean toward Quinn. With male MCs, I like Estela or Sean.

Foreign Affairs: Either Tatum or Ayna.

The Freshman: Becca is my queen. I also like Kaitlyn and Zig, but it's hard to pass up Becca's route.

The Haunting of Braidwood Manor: Eleanor. Is there even really a choice here?

The Heist: Monaco: Sonia. This is one of the few instances where a guaranteed female character is written as the "main" love interest, and she's amazing and I love her romance route.

Hero: Eva.

High School Story: Emma or Maria.

High School Story: Class Act: Skye.

Home for the Holidays: Holly.

Hot Couture: Luz.

Immortal Desires: Both. Both is good.

It Lives Beneath: Probably Imogen or Tom.

It Lives in the Woods: Andy or Ava.

Laws of Attraction: Aislinn.

LoveHacks: Ben.

Mother of the Year: I love all three equally. I literally cycle through them each time I play.

My Two First Loves: I went for Ava the first time, but I really love Noah as well.

Nightbound: Vera or Cal.

Open Heart: Jackie and Rafael are my favorites, but I think Bryce is awesome as well. I can't stand the other guy.

Passport to Romance: Um... Marisa, I suppose?

Perfect Match: Hayden, Sloane, and Alana. Though sometimes I'll go for the entire polycule, because I can.

Platinum: No strong preference here. Maybe Raleigh? Though I like Shane's vibes as well.

Queen B: Zoey, with a dose of flirting with Poppy.

Red Carpet Diaries: Teja, I guess, though the whole series is sort of meh for me.

Ride or Die: Probably Mona's at the top, though I have enjoyed doing Colt and Logan runs before.

Rising Tides: No preference. Honestly, I don't even remember who I chose the first time.

The Royal Masquerade: Kayden. Mostly because of the looks thing, honestly.

The Royal Romance: Hana. Though if I could choose Olivia, I'd be all over that.

Rules of Engagement: Dean for the MC, and Mira for the Party Twin.

Save the Date: Lindsay or Simon.

Slow Burn: Still playing for the first time, but so far I think I prefer Julia.

Sunkissed: Eliana.

The Unexpected Heiress: Gemma.

Veil of Secrets: Kate and Naomi.

Wishful Thinking: Jaime.

Wolf Bride: Morgan. Go away, wolf dude.

[crispyafterdark]

undefined

Those heroes are jacked!

[mediocre-writerr]

feel something [leah rilke]

leah rilke x fem reader

requested #1: Hi. Can I request a fem!reader x Leah fic where reader gets hurt and Leah gets kind of protective afterwards. Thank you!

requested #2: Part two of that Leah x insomniac reader please!!!!! Maybe one where the girls see just how bad her hero complex is

Pt.1

This wasn’t the first time you’ve almost died on this trip. 

According to Nora, you’v been here for 22 days. And you’ve died almost four times since then. Much to Leah, Shelby, and literally all the other girls disappointment. 

The first time was after your first actual sleep with Leah. You were climbing up the mountain with Rachel, Shelby, and Leah when the mirror started slipping off the mountain. And without thinking you decided to dive and try to save it.

“Y/N!” Leah yells as you reach for Fatin’s mirror. 

“Jesus Y/N!” Shelby yells, “Get up! It’s just a mirror!”

“No we need it to call help!” you reply in between gritted teeth. 

Shelby yells, “We’ll figure it out another way please!” 

The mirror falls off the cliff and you smack your hand on the hard dirt, “Fuck!” 

The three girls drag you back onto a more steady surface. You look down at your scratched up hand and sigh.

“Are you kidding me right now?” Shelby whispers, staring at you incredulously.

“I was just trying to help.” you mumble, continuing to stare at your hand. 

“Help us what?!” the blonde scolds, “Help us extend our graveyard?!” 

You knew why she was so upset. Back home it was always you, Shelby, and Becca. But ever since Becca was gone, Shelby became more protective of you than she already was. She couldn’t lose someone else.

“I’m sorry.” 

Her eyes softens. “It’s okay. Just please be more careful.” 

While Shelby got over it, Leah was shaken up on the thought of losing you. She thought it was ridiculous you two just met, but she never felt so drawn to someone one.

Not since Jefferey. 

She threw her arms around you. And you immediately reciprocated the hug, wrapping your arms around her waist.

“I’m okay Leah,” you whisper softly.

The next time it happened was a few days after that. You managed to keep your sleep schedule straight with the help of Leah, but again almost died. 

Overexertion is what the girls like to call it. But you like to call it putting in 100% effort to help everyone else survive. This one wasn’t too serious, just passing out and being lost for a few hours.

No biggie really.

You wouldn’t necessarily count this one as a near death experience, but Nora insists. Because if they didn’t find you wild animals could’ve probably eaten me.

After that Leah made sure you ate and drank as much as possible. When the girls found out you were skipping out on food, so there was more for them to eat they scolded you. 

“Dude you need to eat!” Toni yells, after they bring you back to the camp.

“I thought everyone else deserved more food than me.” you say. 

Toni scoffs, but Fatin cuts into the conversation, “And we really appreciate that you’re trying to help, but you need to take care of yourself too.” 

“What is this some intervention?” you ask, jokingly, but all of their faces were serious, “Oh you’re being serious.” 

“Hell yeah we are!” Rachel yells.

“Y/N, you can’t keep putting yourself in life or death situations. We’ve cheated death once. You continuing to do it will kill you one day!” Toni says and you look down at your feet. 

Leah was quiet for the rest of the time that night. She would just stare out at the ocean, lost in her own thoughts. You knew she was mad at you, but there wasn’t much you can actually do. 

You thought she wasn’t gonna talk to you or even interact with you for that matter, but she put her head on your shoulder and nuzzled into your neck. You gently rest your head on top of hers.

Hesitantly, you turn your head ever so slightly placing a kiss to the top of her head. And you couldn’t see it, but Leah was smiling probably wider than she has ever smiled in the past couple months.

The third time was a little more scary for not only the girls, but for you. It was the next night. 

The tides were rising higher than they ever did before. Crashing hard and fast, it was like a mini tsunami. The girls were all freaking out trying their best to hold in so they wouldn’t get swept away. 

“Is everyone okay?” you yell above all the screaming, “Dot! Can you do a head count?” 

“Shelby?” Dot yells.

“Right here!” her Texas accent comes through and I release a sigh of relief.

“Leah?!” Dot yells out again and your heart dropped into your stomach.

“I’m over here!” her voice called out, but it was distant. 

You turned your head, searching everywhere for her voice to see that she climbed up onto the cliffs. You let out another sigh of relief.

In the distance, you could see Fatin trying to grab the rest of her luggage. And she seemed to have had a hold on it when a wave came crashing in, as she disappeared from view.  

“Fuck Fatin!!” you yell and it gets all of the girls attention.

You finally see her as she starts to drift off a little by the riptide. And without hesitation you immediately took off running, taking off your shirt, shoes, and jeans in the process. 

“Y/N! No!” Dot yells.

But it was too late you were already swimming against the current. It was tiring to say the least, but you had to get to Fatin. Your arms and legs were burning, but all you could think about was helping her.

You finally got to Fatin and pulled her and her suitcase in front of you. She was floating on top of it, trying to stay above the water. You pushed her suitcase as you tried your best to get back to shore without getting swept back. 

Just as you’re about to reach shore another huge wave came crashing down. With one last push you pushed Fatin further causing her to reach the shore. And you? Sucked back in right where Fatin was.

It was getting too tiring, swimming back. You were about to give up when you heard Shelby’s voice come from the shore.

“No fucking way! You’re not giving up right now!” she yells at you and she could  how you stopped treading water and just floated. You were too tired and your arms and legs felt like they were about to fall off, “If God brought us to it, God will bring us through it! So push Y/N!” 

Your whole demeanor changed hearing those words. It’s something you, Shelby, and Becca said to each other whenever one of us had a bad day or needed some inspiration. 

So you pushed and pushed until you finally got back. 

Breathless and tired, you laid on the cool sand. Coughing up a storm at the very least. 

“Y/N!” Leah says, rushing over to your side immediately.

She immediately grabs my dry clothes and throw them over me. Leah scoops me into her arms and places me onto her lap. She rubs my back softly as I continue to cough up a lung. 

“You’re an idiot.” Dot says bluntly, but a relieved smile was on her face.

You chuckled softly, “Someone had to go save her.” 

The rest of the time following Leah never left your side. She watched you eat and drink. Yelled at you to take your breaks when needed and kept you sane. 

And if any sort of danger arises, she grabs my wrist and pulls you to sit back down. 

Now here you were day 22, finding yourself risking your life for yet another time. And by the looks of the situation probably your last. 

After the tide swept away your shelter, you decided to make another one. A bigger one. But as the odds like to have it lightning struck down causing to catch on fire in the middle of the night. 

Dot was doing yet another headcount, “Shelby? Where’s Shelby?!” 

You look around frantically desperate to find your best friend. Leah was right by your side, so you knew she was okay.

“Help me!” you hear the blonde call out and you knew immediately where the sound was coming from. 

The fucking shelter. 

Leah saw the look in your eye and right when you were about to take off running she grabbed your arm, “No, you can’t. That’s a death wish going in there!” she exclaims.

“Leah, she’s my best friend,” you whisper softly, “I can’t let her die.” 

“If you go in there, I will never forgive you.” she states, a serious look in those blue eyes. 

Your eyes soften, but you take your hands and cup her cheeks lightly. You close the distance between the two of you. When Leah kisses back, you can feel tear drops fall onto your cheeks. 

“I’m sorry.” you state as you pull apart, before taking off running for shelter.

Once you made it in the small, really hot space, you saw Shelby trapped underneath a pile of burning wood.

“It hurts so bad Y/N!” she exclaims and you know she’ll definitely have some burns. 

“I know Shelb, I know. I’m right here. We’re gonna get you out of here okay?” you say and she nods her head.

There was only one way out and if you pull Shelby out of the burning wood this whole thing can go collapsing on top of you. But what other choice do we have? She can’t walk so either way you would have to drag or carry her out.

“Come on Y/N, think. Think!” you yell to yourself as the exhaustion starts to build up in your chest.

From all the smoke you continued to cough and cough. If you didn’t get her and you out of there now, you might as well be dead.

“Y/N look at me.” Shelby whispers and you finally look at her, “If God brough us to it?”

“God will bring us through it.” you whisper back, nodding at her.

You squatted down in front of her, “I need you to wrap your arms around my neck, like a piggy back ride.” 

She follows suit, “Okay done.” 

“Once we pull you out from underneath there, I need you to wrap your legs around me. It’s gonna hurt, but it’ll be needed.” you say in between coughs, “Now all we have to do it take that leap of faith. Ready?” 

“Yeah.” she whispers.

You pull her out of the burning wood causing her to groan out in pain. And the building started caving in on top of each other. But as if you had real life super powers you ran out of the place as fast you could. 

Barely making it out of there on time as the two of you trip and fell over a log that was outside. 

“Shelb? Are you okay?” you say in a fit of coughs. 

“Yeah, my leg just really hurts.” she replies.

You immediately get up in the midst of your coughing fit to pick her up bridal style. Walking the little ways back to camp, you could see the girls’ faces lighten up. 

And when your eyes landed on Leah you could see how red and puffy her face was. Your heart dropped in your chest once more as you saw the worried features on her face.

“Dot I need you to tend to her burns before they get infected.” you say in between coughs.

Your lungs felt like they were on fire right now, “What about you? What do you need?” Dot asks. 

But you just cough into your hand, shooing her away to go take care of Shelby. You were fine, Shelby needed the most help. And as you were walking to go sit down, the world started spinning and everything went black.

“Come on Y/N. I need you.” you hear a voice whisper, awaking you slightly from your sleep. 

Your head was lying in someone’s lap and your eyes fluttered open to see Leah staring back at you. The sun now shining down upon the crazy beach. 

“Hey, you’re awake.” she whispers, leaning down to hold you tightly, “We thought we lost you. I thought you were gone.” she replies.

You cup her face lightly, “I’m right here. I’m sorry.” 

“You can’t do this Y/N. You can’t keep trying to kill yourself! I need you. Please. I need you. You can’t-you can’t leave me.” Leah starts to cry and you do your best to wipe away all the tears.

“I’m not going anywhere okay? I’m staying right here.” you say softly, trying to soothe her worries.

She nods, “Promise me?” she whispers her voice practically begging you to promise her.

“I promise.” 

[pretchatta]

swoon june day 9: fairy tales

loosely based on the greek myth of orpheus and eurydice

rating: general (warning for character death); kanan jarrus/hera syndulla; 3.5k words

---

There once lived a man who was blessed by the gods, and his name was Kanan.

Kanan was one of the Kasminauts, the fabled heroes who travelled with Janus to retrieve the Golden Flight. His skill with a blade was considerable and helped the group out of many a tight corner over the course of their quest, but it was his silver tongue that proved to be his most valuable asset.

Kanan’s divine gift had been bestowed upon him by Depa, goddess of the spoken word, and his was the gift of storytelling. When Kanan began a tale, all would stop in their tracks to listen. Men would pause in their work; beasts of the forest both great and timid would emerge from their dens; even the trees would inch closer to hear him. It was his way with words that allowed the Kasminauts to pass the Golden Flight’s devaronian guard, Jondo, as well as surmount countless other obstacles on their journey.

When their quest came to an end and the heroes returned home, Kanan decided to settle down. He found a cottage at the edge of a forest and he made it his home. Now this forest was not an ordinary forest, for it was inhabited by a clan of twi’lek nymphs, and it was during a walk along the forest’s border that Kanan’s ears caught the sound of the loveliest voice he’d ever heard. Enraptured, he sought out its source, and that was how he met Hera.

Hera was the daughter of Cham, the leader of the forest twi’lek. Her beauty and grace were indescribable, and Kanan fell in love with her the moment he laid eyes on her. From that day he would come to the forest every morning to tell Hera one of his many magical tales, hoping to win her affections. What he didn’t know was that Hera already returned his feelings; she had heard of Kanan and his silver tongue, but wanted to see how far he would go for her.

The first tale he told was of an ancient order of noble warriors. His words painted pictures of elegant figures in flowing robes protecting the weak and caring for the needy. In his attempt to impress Hera he made it his best performance to date. So inspiring were his words that the forest itself felt inclined to grow. The trees pushed their roots further than they’d expanded in years and new saplings shot up in every direction, increasing the area the forest protected.

Kanan’s second tale was a tragedy, one of betrayal and loss and hardship. He made this one even better than his last, delving into his deepest reserves of emotion as he told it. So moving were his words that the ground itself wept. A new stream sprang from the forest floor, feeding the forest’s new growth, and the trees grew lusher than ever.

His third tale was of new beginnings, describing friendships forged and purpose found. His voice soared with his most powerful story yet and carried through the whole forest, uplifting every beast and being who heard it. That night there was much celebrating, with everyone who lived in those woods rejoicing in the life they had and the ones they shared it with, and by the following morning the forest’s population was inexplicably larger.

Hera, seeing her home revitalised and strengthened by Kanan’s tales, held no doubts in her mind of his devotion. She revealed her heart to him and they were married in a beautiful ceremony by the stream. The wedding was well-attended, with music and dancing from her people, drinking and laughter from the Kasminauts, and a special performance from Chopper, a bird that Hera had once nursed to health and who had stayed with her ever since. Kanan and Hera moved into the cottage at the edge of the forest, and they were blissfully happy together.

But it was not to last.

They were not the only ones who lived by the forest, and a man by the name of Azmorigan also desired Hera. His covetous feelings drove him to pursue her relentlessly, but never within sight of Kanan. One day, he waited for Hera to take her daily walk outside of the cottage and snuck up behind her. Hera, having been raised in the forest and knowing its sounds like her own heartbeat, heard Azmorigan approaching. She fled before he could touch her, but in her haste to escape, she did not watch her step. Her foot fell on the back of a ysalamiri lizard and it bit her ankle. The lizard’s lifeforce-suppressing venom seeped into her blood, and Hera fell to the ground.

Azmorigan fled, and it was evening before Kanan came to look for his wife. The man of such beautiful words was silent when he found her lifeless body. He was silent as he carried her back to the home they had shared, and the silence stretched for three days and three nights. Trees wilted, birdsong was half-hearted, and instruments would not hold their tune without Kanan’s words to lift spirits.

Finally, on the morning of the fourth day, Kanan re-emerged. He was wearing the same clothes he had worn on his voyage with the Kasminauts, with his sword strapped to his hip and a small travelling bag slung over his back. He said not a word as he departed for the hills.

Kanan’s journey was a long one. He travelled out of the forest and over the hills, through fields and between mountains until he reached the sea. He took a boat and sailed over the horizon and beyond, until he found land again. He crossed arid deserts, frozen tundra and lush jungle. He saw fishing villages, market towns and cities in the clouds, but he never stopped, and he never spoke.

Eventually, he reached the cliffs at the edge of the world. There he found a cave, an opening that descended into darkness, which he entered without hesitation. The tunnel took him deep underground and far away from the land of the living. He walked, his footsteps echoing off the stone walls, until he reached a gate. Standing before the gate was a fearsome sentinel, the honourable guardian Garazeb, his eyes wide and alert.

It was now that Kanan finally broke his silence.

“I wish to pass into the Land of the Dead,” he said softly.

“That is forbidden,” Garazeb growled, his deep voice like grinding rocks. “Only the dead may pass this gate. As long as I stand guard here, no living thing shall pass me, in or out.”

Kanan thought for a moment. “Very well. Then perhaps I could make your endless watch a little less dull. For I am Kanan, a storyteller of great renown.”

Garazeb did not respond, merely fixing Kanan with a stony stare, but he was not deterred.

Kanan began his tale. For the gate guardian who saw people from all walks of life pass him on their way to the Underworld, he recounted long marches to battle, legions of feet falling in step, their thunder echoing around them. He drew his sword to emphasize his words as he described endless repetitive days of marching, camping, marching, camping, always surrounded by the same faces. Garazeb’s eyes followed the blade as he swept it from side to side in an almost hypnotic fashion, drawing the same shapes over and over. Soon, the mighty guard’s eyelids began to droop. Kanan did not end his story until Garazeb finally slumped back against the wall, slid down to the ground and let out a deep, rumbling snore.

Silent once more, Kanan stepped over the sleeping sentinel and passed through the gate. He shivered as he felt the change in the air that signified he had done what no other living mortal had done: he had walked into the Land of the Dead, the World Between Worlds, the Underworld. Only his blessing from Depa protected him from Death’s icy embrace here.

The tunnel continued onwards, filled with chill, damp air, and Kanan with it. As he walked he became aware of a distant noise, a rushing, roaring sound that grew steadily louder as he proceeded. The tunnel turned a corner and Kanan emerged into an enormous cavern through the center of which thundered a wide river.

On the near shore, where the rocks were wet with spray, a man waited with a boat. Kanan approached him and spoke once more.

“I wish to cross the River of Souls.”

The man looked at Kanan. His face was young, but his eyes were old, and his expression was as cold as the waters of the river.

“I only ferry the dead over this river, and only in one direction.”

“Has anyone living ever asked you for passage?” Kanan challenged.

The man narrowed his eyes. “No. Garazeb does not allow them to pass the gate.”

“So why would you not take me across? I have made it this far, after all.”

“This river washes away all souls who are not worthy of eternal life in the fields beyond,” said the boatman. “If you attempt to cross and are not worthy, you too will be washed away into nothingness.”

“That is a risk I am willing to take.”

“Hm.” The boatman considered Kanan. “Then you will pay me for your passage. I ferry the dead for free because they have nothing, not even their lives, but this is not the case with you. What can you offer?”

After his long journey Kanan had only the barest of essentials, but he knew that what he needed he always carried with him.

“I have no money with me, but I am known for my skill with words,” he told the boatman. “I doubt you have much cause for joy down here; if I can make you smile, will that cover my trip?”

“I suppose it will. But I cannot remember the last time I smiled, and you will not be able to change that.”

“We shall see. Before I begin my story, might I have your name?” Kanan asked.

“I am Ezra, bridger of the River of Souls,” the boatman replied.

Kanan began yet another tale. For the man who had companions every day but not a single one who would stay with him, Kanan told a tale of families, of belonging, of love. His words brought warmth into the air that was chilled by the river’s spray, and light into the cavern that was out of reach of the sun. When he reached the part of the story where the father went back for his son, the corners of the boatman’s mouth twitched upwards.

When Kanan pointed it out, the boatman grumbled. “It was barely a smile. More of a spasm. Doesn’t count. But I’ll suppose I’ll allow you over. Keep telling the story though, it’s a long crossing.”

So Kanan did; he told of the father rescuing the son, and taking him home, and wrapping the boy in blankets and reassuring him that he was safe now, that nothing bad would ever happen to him, and that he was loved. By the time they reached the other shore, the boatman was smiling widely, and a few tears had run down his smooth cheeks.

“That is your second smile,” Kanan told him, “and I will want to make the return trip.”

“Fine,” Ezra agreed, still smiling. “You have earned it.”

There was no tunnel on the other side of the river, but great, rolling fields under a black sky. A road wound between them which Kanan started down. Dimly, he could see pale figures wandering aimlessly over the land. None of them drifted close enough for him to see their forms clearly and he did not deviate from his path forward to investigate. He was close to his goal now; he could feel it.

The road crested a small hill and there before him was his destination: a towering construction of smooth black stone that glinted with a mysterious light. The Palace of Malachor.

The road to the palace entrance was not empty, however. His way forward was blocked by a young woman in full armour. In the dim half-light of the Underworld the armour’s markings were greyscale swirls of shapes and patterns. A matching helmet was tucked under one of her arms.

She caught sight of him immediately.

“You are not dead,” she accused. “You do not belong here.”

“I seek an audience in the palace,” he told her.

“And I seek justice, as I did in life. I will not let you proceed until you are dead.”

Having come so far, Kanan would not let this stop him. Not when he was so close.

“So we will duel,” he said, “and if you win, I will die. But if I beat you, you will let me pass.”

She considered him for a moment before nodding. “Very well. I accept your terms.”

She fitted the helmet over her head and unsheathed the blade at her hip. It was even blacker than the land around them, so dark it seemed to absorb light. Kanan drew his own blade, and their duel began.

The warrior was strong, and quick with her blade, and Kanan soon realised he was outmatched in skill alone. So he began to talk as their blades clashed, and for someone so young who needed so much armour, he told a story of acceptance. He described a young girl forsaken by her family, forced to strike her own path before she was ready. He saw his words have an effect as the warrior’s blows faltered.

He continued, describing the comfort and safety the girl found in the arms of people who accepted her for who she was, and who loved her unconditionally. Her parry went wide and Kanan’s blade slipped past the warrior’s guard to press against her neck. The tear that had blurred her vision fell from under her helmet to splash on his blade. She yielded, and true to her word, allowed him to pass her.

It was not far, then, to his final destination. The doors of Malachor opened to his touch and he stepped into the throne room. Before him sat Maul, Lord of the Underworld, and it was he Kanan addressed.

“O Great Lord of the Dead, I have travelled vast distances to come here before you. My wife, Hera, the light of my life, was taken from me too soon and now she walks in the fields outside this very palace. I have come before you to humbly beg for her return.”

Maul regarded Kanan with utter indifference.

“And why should I do that?”

Kanan took a deep breath and opened his mouth. He told Maul a story, the tale of his long journey to the Underworld, the lands he had crossed and the sights he had seen. He told of how he had surmounted the obstacles from the gate guard to the boatman to the warrior of the fields. He told all of this with his most magical of gifts, but Maul was a god, and unmoved.

He did, however, recognise Kanan’s voice.

“I care not for the trials of mortals before their demise, but you have done me a service in the short life you have led so far. In your love for your wife, you told stories which grew a forest and the numbers of those who live in it. Many of them have, in turn, died, and their souls have come to me. In return for this act I will grant you the chance to see your wife again.”

For the first time since finding Hera in the woods, Kanan allowed himself to feel a spark of hope.

“She is indeed in the fields outside,” Maul continued. “Go to the doors and tell one of your famous stories; she will hear your voice and will come to you. If you then walk back to the land of the living she will follow, and I will make sure none will stop you. But be warned: if you are to see her complete her journey, you cannot look at her while she is still in the Underworld. Do not turn around until you are both standing under the sun once again, or you will never see her again.”

Kanan bowed deeply in gratitude and thanked the Lord of the Underworld before departing his presence to do as he suggested.

Kanan went to stand just outside of the palace doors, and he knew exactly which story to tell: the story of his life. It was one Hera would know well, because she knew him better than he knew himself. He began his telling, and the slightest brush of wind encouraged him to start walking.

As he crossed the fields, he passed the warrior again. It was as he was telling of his childhood and of the importance of family and standing together. Her helmet was tucked back under her arm and she nodded at him respectfully, the faintest of wistful smiles at her lips. She gave no acknowledgement of anyone following him.

He reached the river and the boatman, whose face was back to its stony mask. The man did not hesitate as Kanan approached, remembering their agreement and giving Kanan passage back to the other shore. During the crossing Kanan told of the heartbreak of having everything he knew ripped away from him, and the boatman nodded along mournfully as he steered the boat. Neither when he boarded nor disembarked did Kanan feel the boat respond to anyone else’s movements.

He was telling the legends of the Kasminauts when he came up to the gate. The guardian was awake again and watched him impassively as Kanan approached, recounting his adventures with his brothers. The honour guard gave no indication that anyone was following Kanan but made no move to stop him from leaving the Underworld.

It was as Kanan started the uphill climb through the final tunnel that he reached the best part of his story. This was the part where his travels ended and he met Hera. The most beautiful, perfect woman, who healed him and loved him and gave him everything he needed. His words echoed off the tunnel walls along with the sound of a single set of footsteps.

Kanan had no idea if Hera was following him. He knew, he trusted, that if she had heard him and been able, she would have come to him in the field and would have stayed with him since. But what if she hadn’t? What if Maul had tricked him? What if the warrior had blocked her way, or the boatman had denied her passage, or the guard had closed the gate on her?

He could see the brightness of daylight just ahead of him. If he returned to the overworld now, he would never be able to return. If she wasn’t behind him, he would lose her forever.

He had to know. He could not leave without her.

And so Kanan turned, and was overjoyed to see Hera’s wraith-like spirit only a short distance behind him. But her expression turned to dismay as he looked, and even as he opened his mouth in reassurance, a shadow fell over her.

Maul.

“I warned you not to look,” he spat, face twisted in anger, “and what have you done? Now, you will look no more!”

There was a flash of red, a blinding pain, and Kanan felt himself flung backwards and out of the tunnel. He landed on soft grass and felt the warmth of the sun on his face, though no light came through his eyes. He knew he was back in the mortal realm. He knew he could not return to the Underworld. He knew he had shattered his chance to retrieve Hera.

He cried out in pain and frustration and grief.

But then warm arms gripped him and pulled him into a solid embrace, and a voice spoke in his ear.

“Kanan?”

The most beautiful voice.

“Hera?”

He reached up to where the voice had come from, and his fingers traced an achingly familiar face. Tears tracked down her cheeks, but she was here, with him, alive again.

“Oh, Kanan, your eyes!” she cried. “He has ruined your eyes! How will you see?”

But Kanan smiled.

“I do not need my eyes to see you,” he told her.

And so they returned to their cottage at the edge of the forest, and to their happy life together. Though he was blind, Kanan could still tell his stories, and Hera still loved him deeply. The tale of how Kanan’s love for his wife had driven him to retrieve her from the depths of the Underworld was one he told to many generations of twi’lek in the forest, and it was even more popular than the legends of the Kasminauts.

He was still telling it when, well into old age, he recognised that his time had come. This time, Kanan and Hera travelled together into Death. They greeted the gate guard, the boatman and the warrior like old friends, and hand in hand they stepped into the fields, ready to spend eternity together.

[asscreeds]

Heila - Chapter 1

“Heila,” an Old Norse verb meaning “to heal.”

Self-insert F!Eivor/Reader fic where the reader is a Dane from a clan with an unhinged leader that lands them in a heap of trouble, and are captured by Saxons after a failed raid. Eivor rescues the mortally wounded reader from certain death & with a little help from the Raven Clan, they are nursed back to health, and Eivor and Reader grow a little closer via helping eachother to overcome their traumas. Then inevitable lesbian pining and one or two (a little horny) dream sequences that suggest Eivor and the reader have actually known eachother for a very, very long time.

Reader is DFAB and uses she/her pronouns.

There are very specific trigger warnings for this chapter that are only referenced to later on in the story - graphic descriptions of violence, physical & psychological t/orture, religious fanaticism, wh/ipping, v/omit, blood, and minor/background character d/eath.

Read on AO3. i havent rlly posted fanfiction before on tumblr be nice to me

The morning waves broke calmly against the eastern shore of Cent, the salty sea breeze & sting of sand against your face and arms both familiar and calming to you; despite being weeks away from the place you once called home, it seemed the ocean would never change, no matter where you went. You could hear seabirds cry above you, and the gentle bustle of your impromptu settlement as your clanmates began to stir and prepare for the day to come. This was not your home, nor your intended destination when you had departed from your homeland - but, hopefully, you & your clan would make a home out of it yet. Originally you were to sail to Normandy but an unexpected and powerful storm threw your ship off course & you'd landed somewhere in England, according to your navigator, Vilmar.

Sitting around & watching the sun rise would not do much to help your people build a base camp. Before you could even get up, you heard footsteps in the sand behind you, and turned to find Gunnar. "There you are, y/n!" he bellowed, helping you to your feet as you giggled. "We've been looking for you for a meeting - needing your level head and all. We need supplies quickly," he said, quickly guiding you to your leader's tent, the both of you somehow avoiding bumping into clansmen carrying lumber, goods and the like. "Oh, needing my guidance for once, Gunnar? Or are you going to suggest we ride into the heart of a storm again?" you jested, elbowing his side as you walked up the green hillside. He made some sort of huffing sound, like a grumpy animal, and simply ushered you into the tent where your leader Frederik & Vilmar were already arguing.

"We need supplies, Vilmar! Else we'll all starve by the end of the week!" Frederik growled, slamming his fist into the table, sending little carved statuettes out of their places on the map.

Vilmar moved to speak, then saw you and Gunnar standing at the entrance of the tent, visibly deflating & waving the two of you over. "Hello Gunnar, y/n." Your arrival didn't seem to placate Frederik at all… 

Vilmar continued with his thought. "I know we need supplies, Frederik, but the risks outweigh all rewards at the moment. We musn't rush in blindly going a-vikingr, we must make allies first and set up a trade route," he said, rearranging the statuettes to their original places. "We've sent scouts out to every corner of this kingdom, as far as we could, and every single one has come back with word of a potential allyship, and a warning that every single village here is armed to the teeth. We cannot afford to raid right now." 

Frederik seethed quietly, seemingly first accepting Vilmar's words, then growing even more agitated. "And how long will it take,Vilmar, to establish a trade route?" he spat, staring down at the other man with something unreadable behind his eyes. Vilmar held his stare, then looked down at the map. "...A week."

The effect was instantaneous. Before you could even get a word in, Frederik stormed out of the tent, leaving the three of you bewildered, confused & frightened. You knew Frederik could be hellfire at his worst, and he'd always been obsessed with the tales of glory & kings that were told to children, and you had always chalked it up to him barely being 22 winters old, but this was something else. Sharing a worried look with your friends, you chased after him, & were met with a small crowd that had already gathered in the center of the encampment. Frederik's clear & raucous voice rang out over your clansmen, and you saw him pacing back & forth on a wooden platform. Like a king.

"Hear me, kinsmen! We may have landed in a strange land, but it is not an unknown land! We are upon the shores of England, the holy country," he spat out the world 'holy' like an insult, "and we are not the first Danes to do so, and we will not be the last. England is the same as any other land - full & ripe of pickings for the vikingr. Any and all of the able-bodied, you will ride the waterhorse with me to their Christ-House, and we will deprive them of their stores & silver!"

No, no, no, no, no. This was suicide.

Frederik leapt down from the platform, immediately heading for the armory, his wolf-fur cape billowing behind him as if he were a great hero from the old tales, though you knew he was anything but . This was not a good plan, nor a sound plan. He was insane if he thought a band of two dozen sea-soaked & exhausted Danes could pillage a monastery & live to tell the tale. You rushed ahead & grabbed his arm. He did not look at you.

"Frederik, please! Listen to me! This will not end well for you, nor for this clan! Follow through with Vilmar's plan instead, please, I am begging you -" you cried, and were met with the man shaking you off as if you were a fly. He turned to you with a wild look in his eye, forcing himself in your space, close enough for you to finally smell the ale on his breath & to see the dullness in his honey-brown eyes. "I have seen great glory in my dreams, y/n. I will not be denied it." You didn't know what to say, staring at him in shock. He looked at you again, and decided something, muttering something under his breath. "You will ride with me," he growled.

This shocked you out of whatever daze you were in. "What? No! I…" you yelped, but he had already turned from you and stormed off again. This was not good. You were never an adept fighter. Sure, you had trained once or twice in your early years, but you would never call yourself a drengr. But to go against your leader's word & break your oath to him would be a worse fate, consigning you to Helheim. Begrudgingly, you went off in search of armor & a weapon, the distant sound of thunder rumbling in the sky.

A few hours had passed, and to the best of all of your abilities, your clan had mustered up a small yet intimidating army. Maybe things would go right, and you'll topple their church like a house of cards, but you couldn't shake the ever-present feeling of something being wrong. Finishing the warrior-braid in your hair and tying it with a leather strip, you donned the leather & fur armor handed to you by Runa, your weaponsmith. It did not fit you perfectly, but still fit, and would serve its purpose and protect you yet from whatever weapons the English would use to defend themselves. Your weapons of choice, an axe & a flail, hung from the belt around your waist heavily, and you were not used to the weight of them. A shield adorned with your clans symbol, the stag, laid against your back like a mockery of a security blanket. Taking a swig of mead to warm your belly & calm your nerves, you give one last glance to your tent & personal belongings - the dried flower & a bag of jewelry (that you've had to hide from your kinsmen many times) from your mother, a lovingly-written & tear-stained letter from your father, among other things given to you by your friends & family as parting gifts before your departure from Denmark. 

You did not know it would be the last time you would see them.

Taking a deep breath, you exited your tent and headed for the shore, where many of your clan had already hopped into the three longships, painted red & blue, the stark coloration of the paint looking even brighter against the dark waves of the sea. Were you looking at them any other time, you would have called the scene pretty, but not while you had to wade through knee-deep oceanwater to try and scramble up the side of one of them. You struggled for a bit before a hand grasped your arm and pulled you up, and you heard a familiar voice. "y/n? What are you doing here? You should be staying here, with the women & children!" Gunnar spoke, his voice hushed so that the figure of Frederik somewhere behind him could not hear. You could only send him a sad but stern look. "Frederik insisted." He looked at you for far too long, and you could almost hear him thinking - he knew that you were not a drengr, either. He made some sort of soft sound & pulled you fully up onto the boat, and turned back to face forward in his seat. You could not read the expression on his face.

You sat next to him, both looking forward to Frederik, who turned around as the rest of the drengr boarded the ships, his face somber for a split second before shifting to another, more spry and almost violent expression. His voice rang out against the waves, his blonde hair had already begun falling out of his warrior-braid, sending tendrils of it flying in the wind, and his iron armor shone brightly when the sun allowed it. He was a picturesque vikingr, one you would see in the margins of fairytale books.

"Hear me, kinsmen! Today we sail for Raculf Monastery, upon the Northeastern Shore, for glory & for life! For there it is where we will find the supplies we need to replace those we lost in that dreadful storm, and there is where we will succeed! I know many of you have become doubtful, but fear not - I have dreamt of these moments and seen the glory within, and I have all of my faith in the nine Nornir that we will prevail!" he quaked, earning a few rejoiced battle cries from those around you, and even you felt a little energized, his words setting a newfound battlelust within you that you didn't know you even had. 

Your clan set sail immediately, the wind from the brewing storm to the south boosting your speed on the short journey to the monastery. It would only take an hour or two to get there, if Vilmar's predictions were correct. Nervously you checked your weapons, feeling & testing the sharpness of your axe's blade-edge, and Gunnar gently elbowed your side. "Never took you for an axe woman," he said with a light chuckle, sending you an uneasy smile. You couldn't bring yourself to match it. "I have never been forced to choose, Gunnar." 

His smile dropped momentarily, then returned, albeit a bit smaller, and he turned to you fully. His blue eyes shone with confidence. "Listen, y/n. I know you are worried as I am, but I have faith in both Frederik & the Gods that everything will go right for us this day," he said, gently setting his huge hand on your shoulder and giving a friendly shake. Slowly, you returned his smile. Maybe so.

It was difficult, however, to be so confident & blindly trusting in Frederik & your luck when the storm roared behind you, moving just as fast if not faster than the longships. Too soon you had seen the white pires of the monastery in view, the columns of smoke from countless houses & other buildings rising high into the air as the monastery's denizens continued their lives unaware to the coming danger, and too soon had you heard Frederik's voice over the roar of the sea again. It began to rain heavily, soaking through the leather of your armor and chilling your bones. You felt as if you were in a dream.

"Look there, men! Our prize, to be split open & savored! Prepare yourselves!" he roared, and it seemed like you had blinked and were suddenly upon the shore: the sails lowered, and just as Frederik blew into his horn, a deafening crack of thunder prevailed your raid, and a fire had already started, the hay-roof of a villager's home struck by lightning. Frederik gave a booming laugh, joyous & strong. "Thor is with us!" 

And like that, you and your three-dozen clansmen descended upon the monastery, moving together like some unstoppable force. Taken off guard the Saxon warriors had little time to prepare for the assault, and many were immediately fell by the first wave of your brethren; thankfully you were at the back, but this left you open to attack from reinforcements - hopefully they would not come. You quickly entered some sort of fugue state where it felt like you were not truly there, not truly controlling your body, letting your arm guide itself, your axe cutting the chests & necks of already weakened Saxons, spilling red red bubbling blood - was this the battle fury felt by berserkir? 

You did not enjoy it. You did not find glory in taking these men's lives.

By the time you had advanced closer to the church, many of the buildings were already set ablaze, the smell of wood-smoke & hair burning making you choke. Not even the pouring rain could douse the fires. All at once you were overwhelmed by the sensations, the sounds - iron clashing, battle cries, the screaming of civilians caught in crossfire - it was too much. You felt yourself shake. But you pressed on, finishing the weak off as before, checking corpses (both of your clansmen and Saxons, though notably more of the latter) as quickly as you could to make sure none of them were breathing - you did not know what you would do if you did find one still alive, either kill him or spare him - and, thankfully, you were never injured. Somewhere along the line you had reunited with Gunnar, and you helped him finish off the last of the Saxon warriors, to which he gave a grateful nod towards you, then a nod to the church. Come with me.

The locked timber doors of the monastery's inner sanctum were no match for the wrath of the vikingr, and crumbled as easily as any other. You both had finally breached the walls of the church when you heard Frederik's victorious cry, and when you turned the corner you could see why - barrels upon barrels and boxes upon boxes of supplies, food, raw materials, and the like. 

You had done it. You had won, raided a monastery, and lived to tell the tale. You felt yourself let out a breath and breathe deeply in, something that felt entirely alien to you, as if you had not taken a breath in your entire life. You felt as if you could pass out on the spot. This alerted Frederik of your presence, and he turned to you and Gunnar immediately, wild-eyed and ecstatic. "We have done it, my drengr! Here is our lifeblood!" You couldn't match his enthusiasm, standing as still as a statue, but managed to let out a light chuckle. You had done it.

The chuckle turned into a scream as two arrows pierced your shoulder from behind.

Frederik let go of you and you crumpled to the floor with a sharp cry, taken aback as a dozen or so more Saxons forced themselves through the church's doors, and another had a knife to Gunnar's throat. Reinforcements.

If they had gotten to the three of you, who knows what became of the rest of your clansmen.

You writhed on the marble flooring, your blood staining the tiles red as you tried to gain your footing, your breathing, anything to keep you grounded in this world and alive as your body could not stand to produce adrenaline anymore from the strenuous and long battle, the sharp pain of the arrows lodged between your shoulder blade & your spine making it hard to do anything but lay there. At least it had not been your head.

You felt a boot come down upon your back, knocking the wind out of you again, and a hand tangled itself in your hair, pulling harshly against your scalp to raise you up from the floor - seemingly higher than you've ever been - and another hand came to pull your arms behind your back, as if you could even hope to try and break free. A Saxon, a zealot, you would later say, stepped forward from the rest towards Frederik. 

"Hail, heathen," he spat, the rustle of his gilded armor & the voice behind his helmet too loud, too harsh against the once-peaceful quiet of the church. You squeezed your eyes shut. "What brings you here to this House of God, to commit acts of heresy? Tell me why I should not slay you and all of your kin for defiling this place." Thunder roared outside the church, stained glass windows shaking with the sound.

Frederik seemed in shock & at a loss for words. He took a breath, then two, and the Saxon grew impatient. "Speak, worm."

"I, I - we came here for supplies, and -"

"And you thought you could pillage and raid and steal, or maybe you have tried to make peace and were rejected and thought this was the answer. I've heard the same story and the same lie from the other dozens of you Danes that I have slain. I want you to tell me. Why should I not slay you?" You were suddenly very aware of how much of your blood was outside of your body on the floor, where it should not be, and you felt bile bubble up in your throat, saliva drooling from your mouth as if you were a sick animal.

Frederik could not respond. In his mind, he did what he thought was best, not for his clan, but for him; he ran. 

At once arrows were drawn upon him, but the Saxon merely waved an arm & they were dismissed. "Ah, I love a good coward. Let him run & tell other Danes of his failure. Let him live with it. Take the others to Canterbury to be converted." 

You were again jostled around, catching a glimpse of Gunnar in your periphery, who had cast his gaze down at the ground with a blank stare. You both had the same thought.

He left us.

Before you could finally let yourself pass out from shock, you felt a hand on your jaw, turning your head this way and that. "You're a pretty one, eh? Not a fighter like the others. What are you doing out here with these barbarians?" The Saxon from before. You couldn't meet the man's gaze, locking eyes for a just a second before you looked to the floor again. He gave a light chuckle. Thankfully, he said no more, and you felt yourself grow weaker and weaker as you and your kinsmen were bound & loaded into carts like animals, the rain having let up, only lightly sprinkling now. You fell asleep and dreamt nothing. It was both a blessing & a curse.

You all sat there quietly for the remainder of the morning, any attempt at conversation harshly shushed by a well-armored guard standing nearby on watch. From what you could see, he was bored… as if these circumstances were normal to him. Capturing & abusing prisoners. These Saxons were a new ugly.

When you awoke, you were corralled in some sort of cage with a few others, and you could feel the morning sun beating down on your back. You went to move but were suddenly reminded of the arrows still present in your back and let out a wheezing, pained sound, frightening some of your clansmen around you, waking up others. They had not sustained much injury in the battle aside from bruises and little cuts - your injury, amongst all of those still alive, was the worst. The Saxons had not even been so courteous to break off the shafts, and the nauseating feeling of the arrowheads moving between your muscles as you sat up nearly made you wretch onto the dirt. You were not used to pain like this. Among the others in your cage - all women - you found Hanne, Runa's daughter; Ulla, who you truly didn't know her origins but she could fight like a bear; and little Lissi, a winter younger than you, and in almost the same boat, though she had trained for combat for several seasons now. They all sent you sorrowful looks as blood began to drip from your nose & mouth onto your front, staining your tunic further. Tunic? You looked down. The Saxons had stripped you of your armor, at some point when you were asleep. Figures.

At some point, maybe during noon or after, bells sang from the church on the hillside, and a small, squirrely-looking old man had come down to bring all of you some dry bread & bowls of water. It was not a filling meal but you ate it gratefully regardless. He looked upon you & your kith, bound & shackled and being handfed like dogs, with great pity. An hour passed, and you were all allowed to relieve yourselves, though for some it had come too late. Then dusk came, and a different man approached your cages, followed closely by another armored Saxon. The man spoke in a strange tongue from an open book with a cross on the front, and from what English you understood you supposed it was some sort of rite, or blessing, or maybe a curse. Then they both went away, and you were all left alone for the night. They had not treated your injuries, nor given you anything to eat past the bread & water from midday. You thought of those back at the settlement, and hoped that they were safe… they did not deserve this mistreatment. And then you thought of Frederik, and a new fury from somewhere deep within you came to light. That fucking ergi. Abandoning his people. Maybe he had gone back to them, alone, and the thought of it made your blood boil - what lies would he tell them? It did not even matter if he told them, there would not be enough men left to rescue you. You looked up to the world around you in the cage, ignoring the burning of the arrows, and studied the night sky, and how the lights of the city reflected against the villager's homes, and how the moon seemed to give the church its own glow. This is what Frederik gave me , you thought. Consigned to die in a cage, locked up by an animal by the Saxons. Or worse. You saw a lone crow circling the church's highest point. And to yourself, you made an oath.

I will see to it that the coward faces what he has broken.

Another day went by, the same as the last, and then another. Some priests came by in the early morning of the second day and finally rid your back of the two arrows, though they did not truly clean the wounds, only simply broke off the shafts & quelled the bleeding. You were all only fed bread and water. On the third day, you refused your "meal," partly because of your burning hatred of Frederik to do anything properly, partly because of the fever that had set in and worsened rapidly over a few hours. You did not feel like yourself.

As you did every day, you sat still in the corner of the cage & observed villagers, soldiers, priests & pilgrims pass by, like a dog staring from the back of a kennel. Today, however, you were given the chance to see two new faces pass by - two new outlander faces. One of a tanned man with a beard in strange white & red gear, who looked upon you & your kith with a strange expression, and a tall, hooded woman with bear fur draped about her shoulders. A Norseman, plain in sight, and none of the Saxons in the city had even batted an eye at the pair. She looked at you with pity first, then her brows furrowed, and muttered something to her companion, who gave a short reply. They continued up the hill to the church - pilgrims, maybe? Doubtful.

An hour passed, and then two, then three, and another priest approached your cages. He spoke of conversion, some rite, and honestly you'd tuned him out after the first few words. Suddenly he turned to you, and the ice-blue of his eyes shocked you still. "Will you accept the love of God into your heart?"

You didn't know what to say. This felt like an insult, after all these people have put you through. You made up your mind quickly. Maybe it was your fever speaking for you. "No."

He made another sort of sad face, and then was suddenly shadowed by the same Saxon that had cornered Frederik, back at the monastery.

"Then we will make an example out of you yet, little heathen." You did not have time to prepare for the pair of armored guards dragging you out of the cage, your arms still bound behind your back, and maybe kicking and screaming was not the best reaction, given one of them suddenly backhanded you and shocked you into quietness. A handful of villagers had heard & perhaps caught a glimpse of the debacle and stopped to stare for a moment, before another heavily armed Saxon waved them away. You were brought away from your kinsmen closer to the church, where a foreboding column of wood jutted out of the center of a clearing. Its purpose was made clear as you were made to kneel and your arms were tied to the bough of it, in mockery of a praying position. Public humiliation. Or worse.

Unfortunately worse. A notable crowd had gathered, and though you could not see them, you could hear them mutter amongst themselves somewhere behind you. Some cheered for your punishment, some began to cry, knowing what was coming. The Saxon zealot circled you twice. You did not meet his gaze.

When he spoke, he bellowed his words so that the crowd may hear. "Here we have the little Dane, a fork-tongued thing that has dared to cast aside the love of God! What heresy," he said, his words poisoned with sarcasm & mockery. Somewhere to your left, you heard the squirrely-man's voice call out for mercy. "Please, Eadwulf! This is not the way of God!" Eadwulf simply waved the man away. "These pagans killed more than two dozen of our men at Raculf. Only one death of theirs is a kindness." Death? Oh, no. You did not sign up for this. You don't deserve this. You found a new will to live in the way you squirmed against the bonds to no avail. Fuck.

Eadwulf prowled somewhere behind you, and you felt sweat dripping down your brow. You heard a chain, or a whip maybe, rattling, and the sound of the crowd's murmurs growing louder, and how the entire city seemed to grow quieter. This is not how I am meant to die.  

"If you will not accept the love of God, heathen, then bend to his wrath."   How poetic. The first slash was unexpected, painful, making your entire body seize up as if you were dropped into both boiling & freezing water as the cloth & skin between your shoulder blades split, fresh blood spilling down the already-stained tunic. The second came only a few seconds after, worse than the first, and you let out a scream loud enough to frighten a flock of crows from a nearby tree. You felt warmth on your back. Whenever you moved, you could feel the lashes rubbing against the dirty & coarse clothing, made doubly worse by the dull, throbbing pain of the arrows. The third came nearly half a minute later, unexpected, and you screamed again. Then the fourth, fifth & sixth came in quick succession. You felt bile rise in your throat, spilling out onto the too-soft grass beneath you, onto the lumber in front of you. The seventh, eight, ninth and tenth came and went, and in your shocked, adrenaline-addled state, you barely felt them. You felt yourself grow weaker against the pole, the too-warm sensation of your own blood running down your back almost a comfort. Eadwulf said something else, you don't quite remember, and then the crowd dispersed. You were left there to die a martyr.

You don't know exactly when you had passed out, but you awoke during the quiet coolness of the night to a blurry image of the strange hooded Norse woman in front of you, cursing. "Are you still alive, kona? Stay with me," she said, voice somehow strained yet comforting all the same. You could only barely lift your head to look her in the eye, to which she cursed a little more colorfully. "I'm getting you out of here." She cut you loose from the wood, and helped you to stand (which you could barely do) before realizing that wasn't really an option. Cursing even more colorfully, a feat you didn't know she could accomplish, she took her hood off & draped it over your back, making you sharply inhale as the cloth stuck to the dried blood at your back. "I know, little crow. I know it hurts, but please, you must stay with me." She whistled faintly, and a black horse came trotting over, giving you a weary look. Even the animals had pity! Or maybe it didn't want some half-dead creature on it's back. Either way, she set you on the saddle, sitting behind you so that you didn't fall off during the ride, apologizing immediately for any discomfort the position might cause you. Before she could grasp the reins, you stopped her. 

"Please…" your voice was hoarse, and you did not recognize it. "Please, my friends, my kin… are they still imprisoned?" The woman made some sort of sound, as if she had forgotten of the others she passed by today. "Yes, they are, but I fear it will be some time before they are freed. When we get back to my home, I will send my best warriors to retrieve them. Does that sound okay?" You could only nod your head, the simple action sending your world off kilter. She bid the horse to trot out of Canterbury to an unknown destination, breaking into a full gallop once you had left the city's boundaries. Both you and the Norsewoman understood you had mere hours left. She tried to keep you awake on the journey, asking questions about your name, clan and where you were from, though she mostly got one-worded answers.

"Are you a Dane?" "Yes." You pass over a bridge, the woods of England looking all the same to you.

"Why have you come here?" "Storm." An answer she didn't understand at the time, but continued regardless. The landscape slowly changed from forest to open plain, then to forest, then to marsh. You crossed two more bridges. It was your turn to ask the questions.

"What is your name?" Your speech was slurred, more incoherent. "Eivor."

"Why were you in Canterbury?" A question that she did not outright answer. "Looking for someone."

"Where are we going?"

"Ravensthorpe." A place you did not know, nor seen on any map.  "We're almost there. Stay with me."

You couldn't fight to stay awake anymore. "I'm sorry," was all you said before slumping forward on her horse.

She thought you'd died, grabbing hold of your wrist and feeling a wave of relief at finding your faint pulse. She rode twice as hard to her home then, only taking another hour.

When you awoke, you were not dead, nor in your own bed, and could feel bandages straining around your chest, and the scent of herbs filled your senses.

[nautiscarader]

Beach in heat (Yumalia, E)

Older Yumalia written for @yumalianinja for his Adult Wakfu Art Jam 2021. Also, today happens to be his birthday!

=============

(Ao3)

- I'd like to remind you, Yugo, you are officially my bodyguard... We don't want any more gossip about us...

Amalia smiled and kissed him, just before the two hopped from the carriage onto the road that lead them straight to arguably the largest beach in the World of Twelve. The familiar scent of sea, so familiar from their old journeys hit their noses, and was immediately combined with the noises of hundreds of other beach goers that decided to spend their holidays at the famous Cocabanana.

Amalia lead the way, through narrow streets leading to the beach, letting Yugo carry the many baskets with her personal belongings, making him wish he could just portal them to the correct place. But he'd have to know where that location was, and princess Amalia seemed to take her sweet time in picking up perfect spot for sunbathing.

- Ah, there!

She pointed, perplexingly, to the the large bush that grew next to the natural, rocky wall that created natural border with the city, and with a simple move of her feet, she used her magic to make it wither and collapse, ensuring quite a large space for their belongings.

Yugo gladly put the packages down and spread the blankets all over the sand, to ensure his girlfriend won't find any smaller rocks underneath it she could complain about. He then set up the umbrella so that his princess would have perfect amount of shade and sunlight. Lastly, came the small stool with drinks and snacks he helped preparing the day before. But when he turned around to report his work done, words got stuck in his mouth, as he laid his eyes on Amalia, and her attire, or rather lack thereof.

With her dress gone, the Sadida princess wore only her leafy bra and panties, even skimpier than her already short skirt Yugo remembered so well. He had to restrain himself from ogling her scrumptious curves, only accented by those few parts of her body she wasn't showing to the world, and he looked away to say he was done.

- Thank, you, Yugo.

She spoke nonchalantly, treating him like any of her servants, though as she walked past him, she winked from behind her sunglasses. She lay down on the blanket, and as she tried to find the best place for her royal tushy, Yugo couldn't stop thinking that he was the only one meant to see that alluring show.

And he promptly had to look away when he felt his needs awakening in his shorts.

Shorts which he had to be left in, as the sun above them started giving more and more heat, forcing Yugo out of his equally short trousers. he sat down next to her and handed her a glass of drink, trying not to see her curves about to escape the leafy prison she put them in.

"Think of some cute Bow-meows...", he thought. And as he looked to his right, he got his wish... in form of three, long-legged Ecaflipettes that most certainly did not have the modesty of Amalia, proudly squeezing her breasts and shaking their posteriors, as they coiled their tails around a few men that swarmed them.

Yugo swallowed loudly, feeling the pressure between his legs. It's been a rather long fortnight, full of diplomacy and boring meetings, and worst of all, he had to do his duties as a hero of the World of Twelve to help fix the broken world away from Amalia, giving the two very little time together. She came up with the idea of the beach trip, though of course they couldn't act like a couple, afraid of any rumours that might arise...

The juice cooled him down partially, and took some of the heat away, as he concentrated on the distant waves of the azure ocean. But his willpower was only given a moment of rest when Amalia reached to one of the baskets, took a bottle of sunbathing cream, and began her show.

She gladly lifted and exposed her long, smooth legs, now shining from the protective substance, as she coated them with, and as her hands moved up, she could see Yugo's eyes moving with them, despite his best attempts at staying in character. Her arms were soon covered as well, but it was only when Amalia reached her belly when she heard Yugo's needy sigh.

- Oops, spilled a little...

The sight of several streaks of whiteness covering her belly and reaching up to her breasts was too much for the Eliatrope, who had to turn away once more, his mind flooding with imagery of all the times he painted his love in such way. And Yugo instantly realised he shouldn't have done that, when his princess reached to him.

- Would you lend me your hand?

When Yugo turned to his side, he saw Amalia lying on her chest, proudly showing her backside curves, accentuated by her now-untied bra.

- I need some help... - though her voice was soft, he could hear the sly undertone, as she pointed to her back.

Once more Yugo swallowed, reached for the bottle and with trembling hands, began massaging the cream into the skin of her back.

- Oh come on, you need to get closer. - Amalia reprimanded him - Sit here.

And she playfully smacked her ass. Yugo could already hear some snickering from the gang of Ecaflipettes, but he followed his princess' orders, straddling her perfect posterior, as he hoped his boner wasn't too visible from the side to any of the onlookers.

- Mhm, that's right, Yugo - Amalia let out a deep, languorous moan, as his hands touched her. - I love the feeling of your fingers caressing me...

- A-Am-, I mean, princess... - And I love how you rock back and forth against me...

Yugo stopped at once, realising his body's subconscious behaviour and how it must have looked. Amalia let out another, disappointing sigh when he did that. With his hands still shaking, he continued his job, ensureing that his fingers don't accidentally slide to her breasts.

- Good job, Yugo. You have creamed me so much... - she praised him out of nowehre. - Princess, p-please...

Amalia turned her head and gave his lover a subtle, playful wink.

- That would be enough, thank you.

She spoke with a much serious tone, letting her boyfriend take a breather. But twenty minutes later he was called again, when Amalia went for a swim, this time with a rather serious shriek.

- Ah! Yugo! quick, I need your help!

At once, he got up and jumped into the sea, wondering what has happened. The answer became obvious, when he noticed how Amalia was holding her arms around her bare chest.

- My bra untied itself! It must have sank somewhere here... - she asked with a pretence sweetness - Would you please help me find it...?

Yugo raised his brow, responding to her equally mischievous smile, and dived into the shallow water. It took him a while to realise her plan. Amalia was holding the leafy bra with her toes, giving him chance to get even closer to her body. His hands closer around her ankles, calves and thighs, feeling shivers on her skin. And as he swam further up, her other hand slipped down and untied her panties as well, giving Yugo a tantalisingly short view of her naked bush.

And then he nearly ran out of air and had to swim up.

- Thank you, Yugo...

With a few swift moves, her body was covered once more with her "lost" bra, and she began swimming towards the shore. But it only took her one step on the sand, before she started complaining again.

- Though of course now my bikini is covered in sand from the bottom of the ocean..! - she added with annoyance in her voice - I'm heading to the changing booth.

Amalia spoke nonchalantly, and only after a moment Yugo noticed that the princess hasn't moved at all, staring at him expectantly.

- Well? - she raised her brow - I *need* my bodyguard to help me...

The delicate stress she put to her words, combined with her lips curling into a seductive smile had an immediate effect on her boyfriend that jumped to his feet, trying not to appear too excited for other beach-goers. But that notion disappeared the moment the wooden door closed behind the two.

There was no subtlety in Yugo's behaviour: Amalia was quickly pushed to the wall of the small, cramped room, her legs were spread and she was lifted into the air to better accommodate Yugo sliding against her half-naked body. There was no place for long foreplay and the masterful use of his fingers and tongue she was used to. By the time Amalia broke their kiss to take a much needed breath, he was already naked, his cock pressed against her lips, waiting for the final conformation that came in form of a frisky gleam in her eye.

Amalia needed his lips again to contain her scream, as he buried himself inside her wet core in a single, forceful thrust that shook her body, and, thanks to her legs and arms pressed tightly against the walls, the entire booth. But it was only the beginning, as the entire afternoon of teasing suddenly materialised itself in form of Yugo's immense, raw power and strength with each push.

At that point, the small, wooden stall was rocking back and forth, clearly giving away what was going inside, but neither of them cared. Amalia was living through waves of pleasure, reaping the consequences of her actions, as her powerful boyfriend claimed her body as his.

Though her legs and arms were twisted to accommodate both of their bodies in the cramped space, Amalia was feeling reasonably secure, even under the constant barrage of deep thrusts. But that changed when Yugo moved his right hand to her underbelly, and his thumb brushed her clit, sending a very audible shriek from her lungs, as she lived through not one, but several orgasms that made her almost lose her balance. She wasn't sure how her boyfriend was channelling the raw, primal Wakfu, but he concentrated it on her most delicate of places, making her instantly drift into bliss.

But even in her half-lucid state, she clearly heard his grunts and her name being chanted, louder and louder, and knew he wasn't far behind her. And if she thought that his fingers pulsating with energy against her clit would be the peak of her pleasure, she sheer warmth and volume of his potent load that flooded her sex made her lose her composure again, and if it wasn't for his lips against hers, the entire beach would have heard her maddening blabbering about Yugo's manhood.

A tsunami of his hot seed filled her to the brim in no time and quickly began to leak onto the sand, as her pussy spasmed and quaked, just like her entire body. His strong arms soon gave up, just like her limbs, and the two gently collapsed onto the small bench, as their breathing returned to normal.

- Thank... thank you, Yugo for helping me... change my outfit...

She looked down, at their discarded, almost ripped clothes and between their sweaty bodies, seeing a streak of his seed, clinging to her left thigh, after it leaked out of her overfilled sex.

- That's... that's my duty... - he fixed his hat and sneaked a kiss or two to her breasts, which he sadly neglected. - Though I see what your master plan has been all the time, Yugo... - she wheezed, her body still locked in an awkward position - You wanted to prevent me from ever going to the beach again to torture you...

Yugo raised his brow, unsure what his girlfriend meant, until she took his hand and moved it to her underbelly, just like when he caressed her clit.

- After all, I wouldn't be able to fit into any of my swimsuits if you ruin my perfect beach body...

Only now, with Amalia's sly and seductive tone, Yugo realised what she meant, and, understanding his mistake, brought by two weeks of abstinence, and sheer deisre to make up for that. He tried to pull out, but the cramped space effectively locked him in the dangerous position, but even if he could move, Amalia's arms and legs were closed around his torso and neck, respectively.

- A-Ami, I-I forgot, I'm-I'm sorry- - Ssh, it's okay, I'm on a potion - she kissed him - I knew you wouldn't be able to stop yourself after I'd tease you all day... I can't blame you... - Ami, I-I-

But Yugo's apologies were cut by sudden, loud clamouring against the wooden door. And when Amalia and Yugo looked down, they could see more than one pair of feet waiting in line.

- I think it's time to go.

Amalia kissed Yugo and let go of her body, as the two fell through the portal in the wall, leaving their ripped clothes, a small pool of cum sinking into the sand, and a potent scent of a summer passion lingering in the air, hoping to inspire some other couple after them.

[galahadwilder]

Broken Masks

Chapter 2: Give Me Space

Click here for Chapter 1: The Mortifying Ordeal

Marinette hugged her arms around her stomach as the Liberty began to churn away from the river shore, and for the first time since she'd seen her own name appear onscreen beneath Cataldi's smug face, she finally began to relax. Out here, there was no one looking for her—no one chasing down Ladybug, nobody trying to corner her to pester her with questions or accusations or thanks. And out here, Hawkmoth didn't know where she was, didn't know where Adrien was. They were safe. Or at least, as safe as they could be. For now.

"How are you two doing?" her mother said, her voice tinny through the earbuds.

Marinette huddled deeper into the hoodie she'd borrowed from Luka, watching the waves of the Seine drift by. "He's... not doing well," she said, leaning out over the rail. "It's not safe to for him to go home, and I don't think he knows what to do with himself." She'd pulled the hood as far over her head as it would go, hiding her face—and her distinctive pigtails—from anyone who might be combing the streets looking for Ladybug.

Her mother sighed. "I do feel terrible for that boy," she said. "He deserves a family that cares about him."

"Yeah," Marinette agreed, watching specks of people drift by on the distant shore.

"But Pumpkin," Sabine continued, "I was asking about you."

Marinette's teeth snapped shut, trapping specks of water on her tongue. "I'm... fine," she ground out.

"Oh, no," she heard her father's voice from a bit of a distance. "I know this mood. Put her on speaker?”

Marinette ground her teeth. "Papa," she growled, "I'm fine."

Her father sighed. "Do you remember that time when you were seven?" he said. "When you tried to fistfight Chloé for insulting the bakery—and then punched her father, the mayor, for defending her?"

Marinette shrank into herself slightly, feeling the cold of the railing on her arms. "I... yeah," she said. "Yeah I do."

"And do you remember how you tried to hide it from us until Mme. Blanchet called us a week later?"

Marinette sighed, her eyes dropping toward the black-green waves passing beneath the boat. "Yes, Papa," she murmured. "I remember."

"Sweetie," her father said, "you have always gone out of your way to defend us. You're fierce and stubborn, and that's part of what makes the hero we always knew you could be."

Marinette's heart warmed, and tears gathered in her eyes. "Papa, I'm Ladybug," she said. "If I'm not fine, Paris..." She trailed off, her voice growing wet. "Paris is..."

"Pumpkin," her mother interrupted. "We know you've been shouldering this on your own for years. We know you've been protecting us. Please, just—" Her voice broke. "Just let us protect you."

Marinette's eyes widened. "Maman?" she whispered. She couldn't remember the last time she'd heard her mother cry.

"We're you parents, Marinette," her mother said. "We know things are..." She coughed out a single rueful and mirthless chuckle. "Things are scary right now, and I know you're more worried about us than about yourself."

"You always did look after everyone else before yourself," her father added. "You were Ladybug long before you ever put on those earrings."

Marinette choked, wiping her eyes. "Papa, I'm just..." She looked down at her pockets, where Tikki was napping after their reckless flight from Agreste Manor. "It's so much," she whispered.

"It's okay to not be okay, sweetie," her father said. "I know you've gotten so used to being Ladybug... but it's all right to be our little girl when you need it."

Marinette choked, turning and slamming her back against the rail and sliding down onto the wet deck. "Papa," she sobbed. "Papa, why—why can't—" Tears began to stream down her face. "Why can't they just leave us alone?"

*

She was still there, her back slumped against the rail, staring at nothing when Luka found her.

"Aria?" he said, crouching down in front of her. "Everything all right?"

Marinette looked up at him through puffy eyes, taking in the familiar face of the first boy she'd ever told she was in love with him. "I... think so?" she said, searching his eyes for... she wasn't even sure what. Reassurance, maybe?

"Come on," he said, holding out a hand. His eyes were soft in that infuriatingly calm and understanding way of his, and not for the first time Marinette found herself wishing things with him hadn't ended the way they did. "Alya called. Mom's finding a place to dock now."

She took his hand and tensed her core, grateful for the surety of his grasp. "She bring everything?"

Luka nodded with a wry smile, lifting her to her feet. "The whole chest," he said. He raised a mischievous eyebrow. "You sure you're ready for him to see it?"

Marinette's stomach clenched, and she bit her lip, looking past Luka into the greenhouse—down the stairs, there was her partner, her Kitty, her Adrien, and she wasn't sure which part of him scared her most. "I—no, I don't... I'm not..." She closed her eyes, breathed in, breathed out. "Doesn't matter," she said, clenching a fist. "He needs it."

Luka chuckled. "That's so very you, Aria," he said. "Putting yourself aside for others." He reached up, brushed a strand of hair out of her eyes. "Can't believe I never saw it."

Marinette snorted wetly, wiping her eye with her oversized hoodie sleeve. "To be fair," she murmured, "neither did he."

Luka smiled softly. "That does make me feel better," he said. He glanced back at the greenhouse, his eyes growing sad. "He hasn't said it, but he's been looking for you," he said. "He looks at the door every six seconds, and every time you don't come through, he sort of... falls a little bit."

Marinette's stomach squeezed, and she bit her lip. She could see the expression on his face—the lonely of Adrien and Chat combined made so much more sense than she'd ever imagined. No wonder Chat clung to her so intensely. "I should go get him," she murmurs. Then, suddenly remembering who she was speaking to, she looked back at Luka. "You're... okay? With me?"

Luka chuckled. "I know you, Aria," he said, squeezing her hand. "I know you're trying to be strong, to not let him see you break down. But you need him as much as he needs you."

Marinette looked up at him, confused. "That's... not what I asked?"

He smiled, taking her head between his palms and pressing a kiss to her forehead. "Go back belowdecks," he said. "Be with your partner."

He didn't have to tell her twice.

*

Marinette bolted down the stairs from the greenhouse into the Liberty’s main living room/practice space, taking them a little too fast—she had to jump the last three. Didn’t matter, Chat needed her. She glanced around frantically, Ladybug-cataloguing the scattered instruments, Tikki munching on a cookie in the kitchenette, unmade beds, very giggly Rose sitting in Juleka’s lap, and the door to the back of the houseboat, but no Adrien. No Adrien.

She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and steadied herself... and when she opened them again, it was Ladybug looking through them. "Has anybody seen my cat?"

Rose and Juleka both stopped their cuddling and turned to stare at her with confused—and delighted—eyes. She glanced behind herself at the kitchenette, saw Tikki chortling as she stuffed an entire snickerdoodle into her tiny mouth.

”Under here, My Lady,” a quiet, wavery voice said.

Her eyes flicked around—his voice had come from somewhere near the beds, but she couldn’t see him. Where was...?

She glanced at Rose and Juleka. “He’s under the bed, isn’t he.”

Rose giggled. Juleka nodded with a snort.

Marinette sighed—both in exasperation and relief, now that she knew where he was, that he was safe, but also that he was doing silly cat things again. She stomped across the practice deck floor, dropping to her knees next to Luka’s bed and bending down to peer under it.

"Hi, Kitty," she said, her voice soft. "I thought you were claustrophobic?"

Adrien looked up at her with wide eyes. He was curled up underneath the bed in a fetal position, hugging his knees to his chest—and now that he’d stopped, she realized she’d heard him purring from the moment she’d stepped off the stairs.

”Usuallly, yeah,” he croaked. “But... the cat comes out when I’m...” He trailed off. “You don’t need to—to...”

She slid down onto her stomach and reached out to brush her hands through his hair. "Mind if I make it smaller?" she said. "Scoot over, I'm joining you in there."

"You’re not... mad at me?"

"No, Chaton," she whispered, scratching her nails gently through his scalp. "Never."