#tired mapmaker... you did your best...

[wanderdell]

[part 2 below]

"Again. With some actual focus this time, if you're capable of it."

Sara let the bow fall and nudged the horse back onto the track for another round.

By the gods, how she hated that man. Hated him with the passion of a thousand pit vipers roused from their nest. Loathed him so much that being too close to his presence made her feel like she needed a wash. Despised him like he was the personification of all that was wrong with the world. In fact, he probably was the source of about 50 per cent of the -

"Useless. Have you not got two marbles left in that numbskull of yours? You cannot watch me and the target while controlling the movement of your mount and drawing all at once. I cannot believe I am wasting my time with you."

Gods, she hated that man.

The berating was endless. She could never do anything right in his book. She walked too slow, did chores too loudly, got too distracted in her archery lessons. Spoke too much when she was supposed to be eating. Asked too many questions. Everything was spliced with an insult that only enraged her further.

Sara thought about that sometimes. Oh, the traps she could lay for him. Draw him out into the woods to get eaten by the bears. Give him a rigged deck of cards and a story about the bets going on in the ale house - he wouldn't be able to resist - and imagine him getting beaten up for trying to cheat. She knew, deep down, that the main reason she loathed him so much because she needed him.

He was teaching her for a favour. Sara had found the resting place of his beloved wife, a location long since thought lost in the war. She could not believe anyone had married the crotchety bastard, but she supposed he might have been a different man in youth. Although she couldn't imagine him ever being young, either. At any rate, she had bartered the location in exchange for three months of lessons. The retired weapons master had once been the best, and she needed all the help she could get. He had glared and grunted and told her she would earn her keep like everybody else who begged him for lessons.

It had taken her six months of traipsing up and down the countryside consulting every rumour mill and mapmaker she could find to locate the burial place. That now seemed like a lifetime ago. Back in a life of leisure in comparison with the life she led now.

"I think the horse has more sense than you. It at least keeps an eye on the target."

Sara growled under her breath and slowed the horse to a walk. Her shoulders were starting to ache. Her head hurt after hours of sun and movement without a break or drink.

"Do it once more and concentrate this time. If you can't rub your wits together enough to hit the target, get off the horse and give me the bow."

She gave him her best impassive face, and tried hard not to think of him slipping face first into the dirt. Darien had been an Honored One, once. Known across the lands for his expertise, knowledge and experience in fighting and weaponry. Consultant to the Royal Family. It was a position a step above mastery, and she had to remember that she was lucky to be learning anything from him at all.

But it was hard when she was tired and sore, thirsty and hungry, and could not get the hang of hitting a target at a trot. Let alone a canter. She doubted they'd ever get to that point, but she had to try. If she hit the darn thing maybe Darien would let her take a break and a drink.

The horse moved with the nudge of her knees, the weight of her head shifting as they rounded the bend and sped up. Nock, aim, breathe, fire.

She'd done it. The resounding thwack right in the yellow centre of the wooden board. Sara tried not to whoop with joy. Wouldn't give him the satisfaction of being right.

"See, girl? Put your mind on the task and maybe we won't be here all day. I was starting to think we'd be here all night too."

He made a good point and it irritated her. She'd been so focused on him, wondering what fresh insults there would be, dreaming about she would pull one over him, that she had been too distracted to really focus on the target.

There was a trick to it, he'd said, of how you time it just right so the horse and rider are both in the air at the moment of firing, so as not to jostle and disturb the aim. She could deal with bouncing around on the horse. Riding was the easy part. She was pretty good with animals and not a bad rider at all. But doing so at speed while firing an unfamiliar weapon was a different story. Once she had mastered it at a canter, he'd said, they'd be onto moving targets.

"What moving targets?" she'd asked. "Peasants" he'd said. She'd been washing the dishes after dinner at the time, and dropped the pan in her shock at the suggestion they'd be firing on people. She'd caught the pan again, and his resulting huffed laugh had made sense when he said it again. "Birds. Pheasants. Slow and easy."

As Sara bought the horse round, handed the bow and arrows to Darien and dismounted, she thought about the fact that she had believed the man would graduate to hunting the locals. She wasn't so ready to believe the worst of him anymore, but she still thought him a loathsome man. His rude and rough treatment of his students and staff. His miserliness and refusal to pay his staff adequate wages or supply the household with more than basic foodstuffs.

Sara knew he had wealth. The other students talked, and she had seen the bejweled swords and armour he kept inside his study. That collection would pay for a small castle and retained army, and yet his household and guests were constantly hungry.

The Binding of Icarus

Prompt response to "[WP] as the hero you’re supposed to kill the demon lord. But how can you kill kid who doesn’t even know he’s demon lord and only killed humans who were going to kill his family and friends."

When the King was anointed, they said it was fate.

Sure, it was an inherited position, partly. Third son of a brother of the first King's wife, after everyone else got wiped out. But the point was, he was a survivor. And the realm needed survivors.

They said he was gifted. The child had the ears of all the courtiers and maestros, all the visiting diplomats. They said he had the utter loyalty of the servants and the peasantry who came to pay their respects. They whispered behind closed doors, in the dark of night, that the boy had made deals. That he, not yet a man grown, had favours owed him by those we dared not speak the names of.

There has been a maestro in the village once. He had been said to survive on rum and stories, and the few coins he got on the rare occasions the battered lute was actually brought out. That maestro had told the children of the village time and time again that each of them held a gift inside. That man had a power within that only a child knew how to operate; that if they could learn of it and from it, then they would control armies. Could gain empires.

The children, entertained by a man their parents spoke of as a doddering old drunk, didn't pay much attention to that particular story. The maestro was never very clear on how they were to learn of and understand this power, or what exactly it was. The only real thing anyone could get a clear line on was that man generated a power that the other races fed on. The darklings in the mountains, the night hunters, the names of the old ones; they all would one day bow to man for the great gift man had granted them.

Then the war had come. The Citadel had burned, along with half the members of the royal family. A new order was instituted, a new king crowned. The new king's men had come through the towns and villages and banned the old stories. The maestro was strongly encouraged to leave, for his words would poison the minds of the young. The old drunk left with the soldiers and was never seen or heard from again.

But the children didn't forget. And as the boy King grew, so did the girl who had listened to and remembered the stories.

Sara was an orphan who had a particular talent for being invisible, and for remembering things adults would rather children forget. Nobody paid much attention to scrappy orphans of no family name, unless they looked like they were in a thieving way. Sara was a sponge of information in her own way, and as a result had more than a few friends who had benefited from her uncanny fountain of knowledge. But her friends moved on from the tales and stories of their younger years, and thought nothing more of it.

Sara kept hold of the flame inside. Held it close as the knowledge grew, as she slowly made friends with travelling maestros on their way to the city, with sailors who had wandered too far from the port in the town over. She had found a position sweeping in the mayor's kitchen, and talked the cook into reading lessons in exchange for odd jobs around the house and village. That had turned into errand runner for the village council. Which had turned into access to more books, stories and secrets.

It might take her years, but she would make her way out of the village and travel the realm to learn everything she can. Maybe someone would teach her to fight so she could visit the darklings in the mountains and trade her skills for their knowledge. No matter what it took - no matter how many roles she had to play, favours she had to barter, names she would assume - Sara knew the power the King held was worth it. If she could get her hands on the truth of the power that the maestro had told her of so long ago, then she would get revenge for her parents. Better yet, if she could take out the King it would wipe out what remained of the royal line in one swoop.

She would change the world.

Burn it to ashes with all she had learned if she had to. And start again anew.

.....

[nino-poulain]

any severance watchers on here care about petey?? because i care about him a lot 🥺

[swanimagines]

Hi! Could you please do B85 and B95 (romantic) with Alina Starkov from Shadow and Bone?

Fandom: Shadow and Bone

Prompt: B85. “Why do you care?” “Because I love you!” and B95. “They’re in love with you.” “Oh shut it.” “I wish you noticed how they look at you.”

A/N: I modified B85 a bit because I couldn't make up a scenario where they'd fight or anything 😅 I hope you like it!

Word count: 758

There you were. In your military suit, looking as gorgeous as ever. Sometimes Alina felt like she would be willing to attempt on running across the Fold if there was a chance of you looking at her with the same kind of love than she looked at you.

But she knew that would never happen. You and her would never, ever be together. Alina sighed, tearing her gaze away from you before she continued drawing the map. Mal entered the tent, taking a seat opposite from her and he glanced towards you.

"You really should talk to them. You could be surprised," Mal told his best friend and Alina glanced up to him.

"Who?" she mumbled, even though she knew that Mal knew that she knew exactly of who he referred to. Mal rolled his eyes.

"You seriously can't see that?" Mal chuckled, and Alina gave her best friend a puzzled look. "They're in love with you."

Alina felt herself blushing, but at the same time she felt irritation building up. Mal knew perfectly well how she felt about you, she really didn't want to hear any teasing.

"Oh shut it, Mal. Not funny," Alina muttered to her best friend, but Mal just shook his head.

"You're so oblivious. I wish you noticed how they look at you."

Alina huffed. You? Would like her? You were perfect, and Alina knew that perfect people weren't for her. She was an outcast, and always had been. You had been nothing but kind to her, and that was one of the reasons why Alina fell for you so hard, but she had tried to stop it so her heart wouldn't break so much once you'd begin dating someone else, someone who actually had chances for you, but it wouldn't be her. You were out of her league. She was just a mapmaker, an orphan and a Shu on top of it all.

"Just talk to them," Mal urged, but Alina gave Mal another glare before she left the scene. She had tried so hard to let the childish dreams of you go, and Mal definitely wasn't helping.

She marched to the mapmaker's quarters, only to find you sitting in her armchair. She blinked at the sight of you and you stood up.

"Hey," you said and smiled softly. "How are you?"

Alina frowned, the last thing she expected today was seeing you in her quarters, but she figured that you had been ordered there because of her profession.

"I'm well. Did you want something?" she asked and laid her new map down. Your gaze lingered on the parchment and you sighed.

"Yes. Did you finish the new map assignment? We'd need it tonight," you told her and Alina nodded, giving you one of the parchments. You took it, but you still stayed in place. "Are you sure you're well? You've been... off, lately. Not yourself."

Alina wanted to believe that you cared about her more than you likely did, but the frustration was quickly building up. The frustration of holding up hopes for something she couldn't have. So she snapped, "Why do you care?" You were clearly taken back because of her snapping as she never snapped at you and Alina immediately shook her head. "Sorry. I'm... I'm just tired. That's all."

You remained in place, your finger lightly tapping the rolled-up map before you sat back on the armchair.

"Look, Alina. I... I care because I have feelings for you. Feelings that aren't professional for someone who's in my position - I'm basically one of your supervisors." you swallowed as Alina stared at you. "I... I think I just had to tell you because it's been building up for weeks and it starts to affect my work. Every time I see you, I- I feel like I'm watching the most beautiful thing ever. A sun within all this darkness. Someone perfect. I apologize if this changes anything in between us, I just had to say it," you mumbled the last two sentences and then stood up.

"Y/N-" Alina choked out and you stopped, looking at her. She smiled at you, her eyes glistening and that was all you needed to know, and you broke into a smile as well, biting your lip. You took a gentle hold of her hand and squeezed, before you returned to work.

Despite it being an usual day, gloomy and depressing, for you it felt like sun was shining and you could barely contain your goofy grin as you handed the maps to your supervisor.

[just-another-fic-blog]

A Debt to Pay

Once upon a time, in a village so small many mapmakers failed to include it, there lived a mouse and her children, who had inherited a small inn from her late husband. Those who stopped there were not the richest nor the most experienced, only travelers who wanted a good night’s rest before they continued onward. The innkeeper was all too happy to provide, and anyone who left her inn left with a full belly, a good night’s sleep, and renewed vigor for the journey ahead.

One night, as the innkeeper opened her rooms for the night, a weasel stopped by and asked for lodgings for the night. From his new uniform and the pack he carried, the innkeeper could tell he was a soldier. She smiled and welcomed him as she had welcomed many travelers before, treating him to dinner and letting him talk. He was an orphan, it seemed, with nothing in the world but his young brother. He had willingly joined the army in hopes of being able to pay for his brother’s schooling. When he left in the morning, the innkeeper told him to keep his money, no matter how many times he tried to pay. Finally, with a sigh, he told her this.

“I will not forget your kindness, and I will be back to repay the debt.”

And with that, he left.

Many years later, the innkeeper had grown a bit older. Her children were grown and had left to fight as soldiers themselves, or else to start families of their own. And though the innkeeper tried to keep her small inn to the standards she always had, the work was harder when it was just her, and she was getting weaker. One night, as she was sweeping the steps, a weasel came to her. Though the war had taken one of his eyes and a good part of his youth, the innkeeper could still recognize the young solider who had come so many years ago. She greeted him warmly, and he looked around the place. He looked at her again.

“I can see you need help from someone younger and stronger than you. I’m done with my time in the army, and I told you I would repay the debt. Let me help you run this place, at least until I feel I’ve paid you back.”

The innkeeper, tired from her work, agreed.

The weasel helped with the cleaning and the cooking. Like the innkeeper, he did his best to make the guests feel safe and welcome while they stayed. But any time the innkeeper tried to pay him for his labor, he’d always shake his head.

“I told you I want to pay you back,” he said. “I won’t accept payment until I have.”

In time, the innkeeper had to admit they had grown closer. Working with him started to feel no different than it had when her children still lived with her. But even still, he refuses to accept anything for her labors.

“You’ve been here for months,” she said one night. “I think you’ve more than repaid a single night.”

The weasel smiled. “Not yet,” he told her. “There’s still more to do.”

“What more could you possibly do?”

A chuckle. “You’ll see.”

One afternoon, as the innkeeper was shopping in the market, troubling news reached her ears. The enemy in the war was going around to the smaller villages, burning and looting, even taking some villagers back with them. The innkeeper, clutching tightly to her basket, hurried to her home and told the former soldier.

“I want you to stay here tonight,” she finished. “I fear a former soldier like yourself would be a prime target for them and I don’t want you going out by yourself if you can help it.”

She expected resistance, but instead, the weasel smiled at her. “If it will ease your worries, I will stay. Just know I remain in your debt.”

The innkeeper rolled her eyes, and slept soundly that night.

When she awoke the next morning, she saw a horrible sight. Smoke poured from the nearby village, and she could hear wailing in the streets. It seemed the enemy soldiers had come in the night. But as she rushed to the rooms of her patrons to insure their safety, she noticed the strangest thing. None of them had been disturbed, or even noticed that there had been an attack at all. Confused, the innkeeper went to the room that the weasel was staying in…

But all she found was a note.

I’m sorry things have to be this way, but you underestimate the kindness you showed me all those years ago, and every day since I have come to you. You will never see me again, but that does not mean I’m gone. For as long as you or your descendants live within these walls, I will protect everyone here.

Yours truly,

Scout Commander Aekku

[stonebreakerseries]

Day 5: Beloved + “Unacceptable, try again.”

Another piece for @oc-growth-and-development‘s OC-tober, also incorporating the Day 5 #Fictober20 prompt. This one was, ah... a fair bit harder to merge. But I did my best!

This piece is set about 10 years prior to the events in Stonebreaker, focusing on the aftermath of the War of Chains (I might include it as a flashback or an interlude between parts - I have yet to decide).

                       -------------------------------------------------------

Series: Stonebreaker (Original Fiction) Character(s): Dassian Varo, Alessia Torvul, Faldoran Crestus, Hemlan.

                       ---------------------------------------------------------

The pale stone walls of the war room seemed too bright that morning. Garish, pristine, uncompromising. Perhaps it was fitting, given the group that currently crowded around the replica map. The undulating landscape of central Peiora was crafted with minute and painstaking detail, spanning from Talvera all the way to the Bleakwood. It used to be the map that encompassed all of the Allied Kingdoms. Now Valcreta, the City of Artifice, stood like a stain at the southwestern corner. A reminder of their failure.

Breathing out, Dassian Varo, War King of Signea, High King of the Allied Kingdoms, found himself staring at that spot. One of the mapmakers had painted the area gold, the colour used to denote Khathi Empire territory. It was recently done; the paint was still tacky, its damp gleam visible in the mid-morning light.

Where had we gone so wrong?

Of course, Dassian knew. He knew when the decree had been passed, though he had been too much of a fool to admit it. The idea of it - freedom for the bondsmen throughout the Allied Kingdoms - had been something he had supported for years. Decades, even, though perhaps he had been less vocal in his youth. Less self-assured. Less powerful. 

Divider’s Own, what he would give, now, for even half the confidence he used to have.

Deep down, Dassian had known it wasn’t truly about freedom. It never had been. But his doubts at the time had simply been outweighed by his belief that, sometimes, intentions didn’t matter. What mattered was the result. It was hard to imagine that any man or woman, when freed from their chains, would care about whether it was done for the ‘right’ reason. All that mattered was that it had happened. Their lives were now their own, to do with as they pleased.

Or, at least, that had been the ideal, sold to them just under two years ago. It had been the start of Felling, when High King Leoric had called a meeting of the rulers. He remembered it vividly - the trees had just started to change, soft leaves turning crisp, red bleeding into green... 

“Your Majesty?”

Stirring, Dassian blinked and tore his gaze from the map. Crowded around the table stood his closest advisors. They were the only people, so soon after ascending to the throne, that he was willing to trust.

To his right stood Faldoran Crestus, his well-cared sword eternally strapped to his side. Dressed in a thick doublet, the courtly attire was barely able to contain his powerful form; an incongruity that only emphasised the man’s obvious discomfort. Recently promoted to Marshal, he was now expected to attend all meetings pertaining to Signea and her defense - a fact that, upon its discovery, had twisted his scarred face into a perpetual frown. They did not always agree on matters, but Faldoran was the only man Dassian could have chosen for such a vital position. The only man he trusted to replace him. 

Next to Faldoran, a wooden writing board resting along her forearm, was Alessia Torvul, the former king’s Cipher. The woman, with pale Talveran skin and copper hair, was a handful of years his senior, and carried each of them with pride. She met Dassian’s gaze without a moment’s hesitation, green eyes calm. Knowing. Encouraging. Most had assumed he would not trust her, given her proximity to King Leoric and his family. They had assumed he would petition other Cipher families for a replacement. 

They had assumed wrong. 

Finally, a short man stood on Dassian’s left, his brown hair thinning, his stomach straining against a dark leather belt. As though sensing Dassian’s thoughts on him, he cleared his throat. “Ah, if you please, your Majesty. With Valcreta being... u-um… well, I how should I put this---”

---“Unacceptable,” Dassian snapped, dark eyes flashing dangerously as they cut across to the man. “Try again.” 

Hemlan stiffened, mouth dropping open in shock. Dassian had expected that response from him. He’d always been spineless. But Alessia’s frown, scalding him with disapproval from halfway across the room, was his cue that he had genuinely misstepped. 

Stop it. You need these people on your side. All of them.

Sighing, Dassian leaned forward, pressing his hands to the lacquered edge of the table. “I apologise, Hemlan. Please, just... say what you mean.” Divider, he was tired. It didn’t seem to matter how much he slept. Not that he slept well, alone in a room large enough to house an entire platoon. “King Leoric may have ruled by platitudes, but I have no patience for them.”

Even as the words left his lips, Dassian winced, wishing he could take them back. There he went again. It was never wise to disparage a fallen monarch; certainly not before his funeral had even taken place. This meeting was a mistake. He should have waited another day. Divider, he was almost too exhausted to even feel ashamed of himself. 

Almost. 

“This has been… a trying campaign, your Majesty. A few improprieties behind closed doors are to be expected.” To his surprise, the timidity in Hemlan’s voice had all but vanished, even after the undeserved reprimand. By the time Dassian looked back at the man, his entire demeanour had already shifted. He stood straighter now, pale gaze regarding the map, the thumb of his right hand hooked into his belt. Bemused, Dassian sent a questioning look to Alessia, who simply shrugged, a faint smile tinging her lips. 

I see. 

He’d always wondered how a man like Hemlan had found his way into a position as coveted as Court Advisor. In truth, he was only even present at Alessia’s insistence. Whenever he had spoken to Hemlan in the past, the man had been a stuttering mess, barely making eye contact, frustrating him with his sweating and apologising and bumbling until…

Dassian froze.

… until he had told Hemlan whatever he wanted to know, just to make him leave.

“If I may,” Hemlan continued, tugging Dassian from his quiet revelation, “it is important that we discuss the potential of a Khathi assault. With Valcreta now a viable waypoint for their army and their knowledge of our weakened forces, the threat is greater now than it has been since the conception of the Allied Kingdoms.”

The Allied Kingdoms. Their formation had been a defensive maneuver, spurred by King Leoric at the beginning of this reign. That had to have been, what… twenty years ago? More?

Where had the time gone?

“Have the armies patrol the western border,” Dassian said. “I trust we still have the numbers for that?”

Faldoran nodded, arms folded, the heavy shelf of his brow almost casting a shadow over his eyes. “We do. But I wouldn’t waste any soldiers down by Tel Shival.” He leaned forward, tapping a gloved finger on the swath of blue directly east of their current location. “The Pale’s still swollen from the thaw up north, so all those feeders running into the marsh will be full to bursting.” He shook his head, straightening. “No - there’s no fear of an army getting through that way. Not at this time of year.”

It was true enough. Even their own army had been forced to swing north, bypassing the Crossroads, adding a full two-turns to their journey. In any other circumstance, ten days would have felt like nothing. But among exhausted soldiers, wounded, hungry, battle-worn…

Alessia shifted her footing. “If I may? It would still be beneficial to build more outposts along the southern outskirts. If nothing else, we will find ourselves better positioned once the weather changes.” She glanced at Faldoran, who just grunted, then returned her attention to Dassian. “If we cannot spare soldiers for the task, I imagine there are a number among the recently liberated seeking paid work.”

“Yes. Good. See it done.” As Dassian replied, he noticed that Alessia was actually transcribing the discussion, her quill scratching away over the parchment with her usual ruthless efficiency. Of course. This is all official, now. 

However, more importantly, Alessia had raised a valid point. In Dassian’s opinion - one he shared with many - the handling of the bondsmen had been one of Leoric’s greatest failings. Of all the kingdoms who had implemented the decree, the High King himself had taken the most indolent approach. He had simply declared the owning and trading of bondsmen a criminal offense, signed a few papers, and considered the matter resolved. Even back then, he had already been fixated on the war with Valcreta - the war he knew was coming. He’d lost sight of his own citizens at the very moment they needed him most.

Of course, many of the former bondsmen were resourceful. Some grouped together, forming their own communities in the kingdom’s outskirts. Some stayed put, joining the more welcoming towns and cities where they had grown up or lived out a good portion of their lives. Some returned to their homelands, seeking families that may or may not still be waiting for them. But others? Others struggled, without property, without work, without support, cut off from their pasts, uncertain of the futures. 

The rest just left Signea entirely, once they realised the extent to which the King had forgotten them. 

To some, High King Leoric was beloved. To others, his shortcomings were simply too great and too many to overlook. Dassian had yet to decide in which camp he intended to raise his own flag.

Closing his eyes, he bowed his head and drew a deep, slow breath. He could feel the concerned gazes of his closed council on him, but chose to ignore them for the moment, collecting himself, gathering his thoughts. After all, Alessia and Faldoran had seen him in far worse states than this - recently, too. 

And Hemlan? 

Well, Hemlan seemed willing and able to adapt to whatever he needed, whenever he needed it. He had yet to decide if that was incredibly useful, or incredibly terrifying.

“Tell me,” Dassian said suddenly, “what are the people saying?”

At first, silence met his question. Alessia shifted, rolling back her shoulders, but seemed hesitant to respond. Even Faldoran somehow managed to look even more uncomfortable, his mouth drawn into a tense line.

That left Hemlan.

“It is… mixed, your Majesty,” the portly man began, clasping his hands behind his back. He kept his blue eyes fixed on the map, as though he somehow knew the last thing Dassian wanted was his scrutiny. “The sudden retreat from Valcreta was a surprise to many. Soldiers, common folk, and nobility alike.”

“Damn right it was,” Faldoran agreed, crossing his arms. “Had my work cut out for me, explaining that one to the soldiers. Reckon I got through to most of the ones that mattered, but…” He shrugged. “There’s always going to be mutterings. Just the way it goes.”

Dassian nodded stiffly. Of course he knew that. But still, somehow, he just wished he could make them see. Make them understand that it had to be done. 

“Some call you a hero,” Hemlan continued, unfazed by the interruption. “Being named War King on the field of battle gained you favour among the more military-minded, as well as a number of noble families. But, as with all things, even the most valuable coin has two sides. Others call you a coward, some even going so far as to raise questions about the legitimacy of your ascension.”

“What?” Dassian stood up straight at that, alarmed. Not at the accusations of cowardice - he had expected those. Prepared for them. But the idea that he had somehow cheated his way to the throne? “There were witnesses present - several, high and low ranking alike. They have all made statements. On what grounds are they questioning it?”

“Unfounded grounds, your Majesty,” Hemlan replied quickly. “I apologise if I caused undue alarm. The accusations are not enough to pose any real threat, nor are they bold enough to outright denounce you...” He paused. Looking up, Hemlan studied Dassian’s face for a moment, gauging something. Then, he sucked in a breath, and added, “... yet. Right now, the war is still fresh, as is the memory of your coronation. It is important we continue to monitor these rumours, but at present, that is all they are.”

A cold feeling settled at the center of his chest. “At present,” Dassian repeated quietly. Divider...

Expression softening, Hemlan simply nodded. “At present, your Majesty.”

“We will be vigilant,” Alessia added, voice firm. “If the talk ever becomes serious enough to threaten your life or the stability of the kingdom, we will convene and act accordingly.” 

Dassian nodded distractedly, then paused, realising something. She had stopped writing, leaving this part of their conversation off the official record. 

So it’s that much of a concern, then.

“Very well,” he said after a moment. “Hemlan, report to me every second turn. I don’t want to find myself blindsided by any of this.” He shifted his gaze to Faldoran. “Marshal Crestus, meet with me this evening. We will discuss the fortification of the border in more detail then. For now, you are both dismissed.”

The two men nodded and took their leave, Faldoran snapping a sharp salute, Hemlan bowing low. That left him and Alessia, standing at opposite sides of the large map. Slowly, calmly, she went about organising her affairs, capping the small vial of ink, dabbing the tip of her quill against a piece of sponge inlaid in her writing board. 

Dassian just watched her, silent, and waited for the inevitable.

“You can’t solve every problem in the kingdom on your first day, Dassian.” She glanced up, green eyes seeming to pierce right through him. They always did. “It will take many Kings - High, War, whatever you like - to fix the mistakes of the past twenty years. Even then, new ones will only rise to take their place.”

“Then what would you have me do?” he demanded. She had stood by him when so many had refused; believed him on the battlefield when his own men had started to doubt. Practically committed treason with him. He owed her more than he dared admit, but sometimes she drove him halfway mad. “Should I do nothing? Delegate my duties to others, like Leoric did? I can’t do that, Alessia. I’m not that kind of man.”

As he expected - as he feared - the Cipher just sighed. She didn’t seem disappointed. Not even angry or bitter. In fact, she almost seemed to have been expecting his exact response. He wouldn’t be surprised if she’d written it down before he’d even said it. “Then it is something you will just have to learn, Dassian, whether you want to or not. That, and many other things.” She shook her head and stepped away from the map, angling towards the door. “Despite the way it is portrayed in the history books, ruling a kingdom is never done alone. The crown is a symbol. It is a kind of power, yes, but it is not absolute. You need to surround yourself with people. The right people.”

She began to walk out, shoes whispering over the floor tiles. “I’m not alone,” Dassian said as she passed by him, voice low, gaze averted. “I have you, don’t I? And Faldoran. Hemlan.”

Alessia paused. Just for a breath. “You do,” she said. “But we are not enough.”

With that, she bowed and left, her floor-length dress shifting gently with each step. Soon, the War King found himself alone once more, the light streaming in through the high windows suddenly too bright. Too damning, laying bare all of his flaws. There were certainly enough of them.

Rest, he thought, leaning his weight against the table, not quite trusting his legs to hold him. I just need to rest. 

Then I can worry about fixing everything else in this damn kingdom.

[eirist]

Little Bits and Pieces of Heaven

FEAST YOUR EYES

One-shot #: 19

Disclaimer: One Piece (and its characters) belongs to Eiichiro Oda-sensei.

Reminder: I have no beta-reader. Any grammatical and spelling errors are solely mine.

Warning:OOC possible. One shot. PWP.

Rating:M (Just implications and some words)

Note: So this is inspired by the Kingdom dance in Tangled, a Nami line in One Piece Treasure Cruise and the fact that I want to slash a prompt from the drabble list. Prompt #88: “Come here” done. And if you want an idea on how bouncy the jig Brook’s playing, play the one from Titanic (the third class party).

Summary: “Have you done enough feasting swordsman?”

The celebration was already in full swing.

Some of the townsfolk started dancing underneath the brightly illuminated town square as Brook began playing a jig with a borrowed fiddle.

It didn’t take long for the other citizens to join the musician with their own instruments.

Usopp—who was standing on a makeshift stage—leapt down and ran towards the throng of dancers, shouting gleefully at his crew mates to join the fun.

With a loud and cheerful yell, Luffy bounded towards the dancers with a chunk of meat in one hand and Chopper on the other.

As if on cue, everyone was now pulling random bystanders and inviting people off the wooden benches and feasting tables to join the dancing.

Soon, the other Mugiwaras were doing the same. Franky offered a hand to Robin, who was sitting on the bench, clapping her hand in time with the music. The archaeologist smiled and conceded.

Sanji was about to ask Nami but his effort was thwarted by Usopp suddenly grabbing the navigator’s hand to drag her in a circle he, Luffy and Chopper had made.

The cook shouted curses and threats but his voice was drowned by the music, laughter and clapping.

Zoro smirked from the sidelines, mentally thanking the sniper from whisking Nami away from the perverted cook’s clutches. He took a swig from his mug and shook his head to refuse a pretty girl, and another, who were asking him to join the dance as well.

He silently observed his friends; spinning around and around, holding hands as if it they were just on the lawn deck of the Sunny, playing ring-around-the-rosy game. They were jumping and prancing to the lively beat with seemingly boundless energy. He can hear them laughing and cheering and he grinned at the fact that they are enjoying themselves.

They really should. After kicking the ass of the island’s former tyrannical ruler and his ridiculous minions, they deserve it.

That was the reason why a feast was being held on their honor. Even if they repeatedly said they are not heroes and was just passing by without really any intention to free the oppressed island.

One steely eye settled on the orange-haired woman as Usopp twirled Nami around. Zoro watched her giggle girlishly when Luffy did the same, before their captain clumsily stepped on her foot. That earned the rubber man a fist in the face as his head hilariously ricocheted, almost hitting Franky’s back before Nami went and grabbed Chopper’s hand and they whirled together around laughing.  

Her hair shone brightly under the yellow lights strung above the town square. She looked radiant, charming even (though he knows how deadly that charm is, he had seen men lured into their doom by that alone); more so when she threw back her head and laughed merrily as Sanji tried to seize her hand again in an attempt to dance with her and Luffy unwittingly intercepted by jumping on the chef’s arms.

There was another frustrated scream, followed by a lot of curses and kicking as Zoro rolled his eye.

Stupid cook. Serves him right.

The music continued playing, it seemed endless. And instead of tiring the people out, it only served to make them more enthusiastic as they all clapped, cheered, stomped their foot with the music and laughed, louder than before.

Nami had finally relented and let the blond idiot dance with her and spin her around, thrice, before blood—as expected—spurted out from his nose. From what, Zoro did not bother finding out as he fought the urge to roll his eye again at absurdity of it all. Of course it was not helping that the mapmaker had donned a light blue lace bustier top (he heard her call it that during one tiring, laundry day), and her chest was practically spilling out of it.

Not that he was eyeing her… but yes.

If Nami was able to make him look… then he doesn’t even want to think what it was doing to the other men within the vicinity with less restraint than him. Take swirly brows for example.

He studied her at the rim of his mug as he took another sip of his beer. She was trying to catch her breath, her hands on her hips, shaking her head as Chopper hurriedly took care of their fallen comrade. Surprisingly, there was a remnant of smile on her face as she watched everything before her as the others continued to zealously dance the night away.

Her chest heaved as she tried to get her breathing back to normal and he didn’t missed the way the soft mounds in front of her bounced slightly at each movement. And the dainty gold chain she was wearing around her neck wasn’t doing anyone a favor as it only guaranteed to catch anyone’s eyes and lead it straight down to her cleavage.

His gaze trailed upwards. Her long orange hair was loose and the curling tresses looked wild as if someone had deliberately tousled it by raking their fingers through it. There were errant strands sticking against her neck due to sweat. She was breathing through pursed lips and her face was flushed prettily.

She damn looked like she had been thoroughly kissed.

Or even better…

She looked exactly the way she does after a night of having his way with her. 

Something instantly stirred inside him and he can feel himself starting to swell at the thought of taking her again… probably tonight if possible.

He didn’t realize he was biting at the rim of his mug; not until he gritted his teeth when a love-struck fool approached her to try his luck.

He composed himself and shifted his attention to his liquor. It’s probably best to just enjoy his drink and temporary peace for now. He still got a barrel—scratch that—or two, to finish up before he was done feasting for the night. Besides, with all the merriment going on and knowing his friends… this could go well until dawn.

Zoro refilled his mug, momentarily glancing back at the crowd to check on Nami and the others when his eye met hers.

She must’ve refused the man earlier, as she was standing alone now. He saw the way her face lit up when she saw him looking and an enticing but rather devious smile appeared on her lips.

He fixed her with a stare, even as he tipped his mug back to drink his beer.

There was a tap on his shoulder and he was a bit peeved at the interruption. He grudgingly tore his eye away from Nami. A lovely girl was standing beside him with a shy smile on her face. She was asking him if he wanted to dance and he immediately shook his head to turn her down, trying his damnedest to be polite as much as possible.

He went back to drinking and refusing another girl's invitation to dance again. He was well on his way to his fourth mug when he felt someone swiftly sidle closer to him.  The distinct scent of mikans gave her away and Zoro wasn’t a bit surprised to find a pair of smooth, shapely legs just in line with his unimpaired vision.

“Are you done making pretty girls cry tonight?”

He lazily flicked an eye up on her face and scoffed.

Nami was smiling cheekily as she took the liberty of sitting on the table where he was drinking, nonchalantly crossing her leg over the other and setting one strappy heeled foot on the space beside his seat, letting the other just dangle in mid-air.

She placed her elbow on her knee, resting her chin in her hand as her brown eyes trailed over him up and down slowly.

Zoro threw back his drink draining the mug’s content in one gulp… before letting out a loud belch knowing it would ruffle her feathers.

The navigator’s face scrunched into a frown at his uncouthness. “You are such a pig Zoro!”

His grin was wide when he saw her expression.

She stuck here tongue out at him. “Have you done enough feasting swordsman?” Nami inquired as she observed that the table was almost food-free.

When he didn’t answer again, she decided to poke his leg with the pointy heel of her shoe. “Well… have you?” She probed as she poked him again, prompting him to clamp down a hand around her ankle.

“Nope,” Zoro replied. “Not yet.”

She rolled her eyes at him. “Please don’t tell me what you wolfed down earlier and the three barrels of booze were still not enough?” She keeps forgetting how Zoro is just like their gluttonous captain… his appetite was just a voracious.

The smirk that appeared on his face set off the alarm bells inside her head as his thumb started rubbing the inside of her ankle, just below the strap, sending a wave of warm pleasure all over her body.

“There’s something else I want to feast on tonight.”

Nami’s breath hitched at that. With one arm he managed to scoop her up by the waist as he stood up, growling a ‘come here’, before throwing her over his shoulder.

“ZORO!” She yelped, smacking him on his back, even as she hooked an arm around his neck.

Zoro quickly glanced around to see is anyone can see them. Thank heavens all of their nakama and townspeople were still in the reveling zone; partying their hearts out.

He chuckled as he started walking away from all the merrymaking. He surreptitiously slid a hand inside her short skirt to give her ass a slap.

Shivers ran up and down Nami’s spine as an excited moan escaped her before she can even stop herself. Her insides started to throb in anticipation in what he might have in store for her tonight.

She pushed herself off his shoulder a little so she can look at his face. “At least know where you are going Zoro.”

“Does it really matter where?”

“At least somewhere with a bed idiot.”

They rounded a corner of a random dwelling, just as Brook started playing another jig and the whole town erupted into cheers and clapping again.

“We don’t need a bed Nami,” He whispered huskily.“You’re not sleeping tonight.”

The heat she was feeling immediately shot straight into her head. “Oh fuck.” Nami gasped, biting her lip as Zoro started planting wet kisses on her jaw and neck.  

"Yeah... all night long." He assured her as he crushed her lips against hers.

This is definitely going to be one night she wouldn’t mind losing sleep.   

[pendragonfics]

No Protest

Paring: Dwalin/Reader

Tags: female reader (but no pronouns are used. unless u count ‘lass’ as a pronoun?), reader is half hobbit & dwarf, set at Beorn’s house, maps, fluff without plot.

Summary: A tired cartographer travelling with Thorin's Company is swayed toward sleep by only the words of Dwalin Fundinson.

Word Count: 1,111

Current Date: 2019-06-28

It was late. The sun had set long ago, and after the last of dinner was digested, you were left alone at the table. The rest of the Company and Beorn had taken their leave to their rucksacks and sleeping bags. However, you studied a map. It belonged to Beorn, and with blank parchment and a careful hand, you copied it. Even though the day had been long already, you keep at it, your unsteady hands steadily mimicking the lines onto the map you were making. The candles surrounding you flickered, burnt near to stubs, the light cast small, shadows long.

“If you stay like this, lass, you won’t be ready for what tomorrow brings ye.”

You startle, your quill dragging across the map, and the surface of Beorn’s tabletop. Quickly, furiously, you rub at the ink, mopping at it with your shirtsleeve, and with a blackened forearm, you see whom had snuck up to you.

“You frightened me, Master Dwalin.” You shake your head, as if to shake the surprise that had quickened your heart.

“S’not my intention,” he responded, voice gruff. You wondered if that was because he rarely spoke, or an effect of his ferocious battle cries. “But you best be resting. All but Thorin, and me and you are asleep.”

You blink. “It cannot be that late,” you deny, fishing your timepiece from your jacket. But alas, it’s an hour until the midnight. “Oh.”

“Come now, lass. You can finish your task in the morrow.” Master Dwalin gestures to where the Company lay, and tidying your things, you join his side. With one hand, he scratches at his beard, the other, a candlestick holder. “With hands like yours, the task will be fast done.”

You blush at his remarks, but as he held the light source, you were glad to be swathed in shadows. “Your words are too kind, Master Dwalin.” You thank, voice low. You both walk past the Company, the dwarves and Master Bilbo all in their nightclothes, wrapped in their bedrolls, asleep.

You realise then, as Master Dwalin stops, that his bedroll is beside yours, and his beside Bombur. “Now, you best be swift to sleep,” Master Dwalin tells you, his voice stern.

You feel a wash of something come over yourself. Perhaps its fear? Somewhat. You’re used to feeling that these days, more than any other feeling that you’d ever felt in your life. Before joining the Company, you worked for the Took family, tending their gardens, reading books about mapmaking when no one’s eyes could find you. You jumped at the chance for adventure alongside Master Bilbo when the wizard Gandalf asked.

“Please, promise to not laugh, Master Dwalin.”

He shook his head. “I would never.” He said, “…what be on your mind?”

You move to your bedroll, sitting at its edge, facing him. “There’s a reason I’m still awake. I - it was a very long day today, and I am not used to such thrills. And - and,” you catch your breath, unable to form words. “and racing to this refuge did nothing for my nerves.”

“And yet, you live, lass.” Master Dwalin states.

You nod. “I - I suppose I did survive it. But,” you look to your hands, unable to meet Master Dwalin’s eyes. “I’ll never be able to match your strength, nor any other from the Company. I’m just…me. A half-breed.”

The candle that Master Dwalin holds grows low, the wax melting at the base of which he holds. Steadily, he comes to your level, sitting upon his own sleeping bag. Sitting, you’re both the same height; you can see his tattooed hands, the cuffs that line his ears, his beard, glowing in the light. The air of fearsomeness that shrouded his features seemed to melt away, and for a moment, almost a whole minute, you wondered if you were seeing a different Master Dwalin.

“No matter what they call you, lass,” he says levelly, “don’t call yourself that.”

You blink, startled. “But I am!” you cry out. At that, Bombur turns in his sleep, and aware of the Company nearby, you lower your voice. “I’m made of the stuff of Hobbits and Dwarves, and both find me strange. I suppose that’s why I joined the Company, Master Dwalin.”

He shook his head once more, placing the candle upon the ground between you. “Did any Dwarves tell you this themselves?” he asks.

His tone is a challenge, and you’re tired enough to accept it. “I - I don’t remember.”

“Well, if you do remember, lass, I’ll take their names, and their heads.” He says. You’re almost startled by those words, but before you can retort, he snuffs the candle. The inside of Beorn’s house is thrown into the same darkness that it is outside, and quietly, he moves into his bedroll for the night’s rest.

You’re near to the edge of dreaming when you hear, “…rest well.”

You don’t remember those dreams, because when you open your eyes, it is almost as if you never slept. And although you do feel less tired than before, there’s a new sensation that you can’t quite put a word to. As you open your eyes, you realise that the sun is barely risen, and the snores surrounding you confirm that the Company sleep on. However, there’s a snore, quite close to you, that you don’t take long at all to realise whom of which it belongs to.

Glancing down, you see that you are still in your sleeping bag, but outside, there is a broad forearm wrapped around you, holding you close. You’ve never seen his tattoos at this angle, but you know exactly whose arm it is.

Master Dwalin.

You try to move from within his grasp, but he senses your movements, tightening his touch. If it were any other dwarf, you would struggle, but as you lay there, in his arms, you think. Your heart, the same heart that raced so violently yesterday before seeking refuge, and once more when Master Dwalin had professed those things to you, does not race now. Your heart beats as it normally does, the rhythm of your life.

You must have moved once more, because Master Dwalin speaks, voice touched by sleep, “It isn’t proper, lass, but -,”

You shake your head and turn in your bedroll to face his torso. It’s warmer here, and you move closer to it, resting your face against his beard, his broad chest. “Unless you wish me to, I do not protest, Master Dwalin.” you whisper.

He laughs, softer than that you’ve heard at the fireside, or passing conversation. It’s small, intimate. “Ah, lass. I’d never ask you to protest.”

[youcantkillamutant]

A Map Made in Heaven (Chapter 3)

Prologue...Chapter 1...Chapter 2

Author: youcantkillamutant

Fandom: Marvel (Black Panther)

Pairing: Erik Stevens/Killmonger x Black!OC

Summary: Erik ‘Killmonger’ Stevens is the biggest bootlegger in South Carolina, but he wants to be more than the middle man. After he receives a letter from an ‘old friend’ of his father, he embarks on a quest to find his homeland. Enter Audrey Cade, the finest mapmaker in the County.

Warnings: Mentions of slavery, cursing, violence, blood

Words: 5K+

A/N: Back with that 1920’s bootleggers AU that absolutely no one asked for! Thank you to @k-michaelis as always for the review and love! And thank you everyone else for reading liking and reblogging I love hearing what y’all think of the story :)

I only own my original characters of course. As usual Marvel don’t sue me I’m broke.

Listening to: The Long Way Around by the Dixie Chicks, Pay Dearly by Johnnyswim, and The Good War by Kimbra

CHAPTER III

June 12, 1920: Charleston, SC

“Are you done yet?” Erik sang this question, as he had for the past few days. The pair were in Cade’s Atlas, Erik watching Audrey paint broad border lines and etch forests into existence.

“Didn’t your momma tell you a watched pot never boils Mr. Stevens?”

“My momma’s been in penitentiary since I was six.”

“I—I’m so sorry.” Shock staggered Audrey’s words. Over the past few days, Mr. Stevens watched Audrey work. He was a fairly quiet audience, questioning her technique and methods not to challenge her, but for his own edification. He rarely shared anything personal, unless it had to do with Wakanda.

“Pigs take anyone they can.” Erik shrugged, but Audrey had a feeling it wasn’t as casual as he played it off to be.

“Do you ever go see her?”

“She told me not to.”

Erik could remember the day they took her away. It was the last time he cried. His whole world sat out on the porch, mom pouring lemonade and dad rocking in a chair. Erik was playing with something, though he couldn’t remember what. Sirens whined louder and louder as they approached the house. Erik’s mother turned to him, eyes soft.

“Don’t come looking for me.” Tires screeched on the pavement.

“But Ma!” Car doors slammed.

“You don’t need to see me like that baby. Promise me you won’t come.” Men shouted, boots pounded on the steps, N’Jobu placed his hand on Erik’s shoulders.

“I—I promise momma.” The pigs pulled her away before he could utter another word.

“Just give me another hour. I’ll be done then, I promise.” Audrey’s voice, low and cautious, pulled Erik back to the present. Audrey decided she was done questioning Killmonger for the day, and focused on the map.

When Audrey opened the note from Mrs. Kae, she was disappointed. It was only a few words, more of a riddle than a clue: Wakandan blood runs strong and rings true, but the key we are given glows bold and blue. Gibberish. Audrey didn’t bother showing it to Erik, but she didn’t want to throw it away either. She taped it in the last page of her sketchbook, returning to the page to puzzle over the words after Erik left the shop every day for lunch.

Audrey kept a list of notes on Wakanda’s possible whereabouts next to her as she drew. Mrs. Kae had mentioned the sea and a forest, so Audrey knew she was looking for something on the coast. North or South? Erik had mentioned that before everything “went to shit” he remembered his father taking business trips to Wakanda. He informed Audrey that his father would return with gifts from “home” for him and his mother the next day. That meant that it couldn’t have been more than a few hours drive from Charleston. North or South? Klaue had only mentioned a ferryman and the silent water. Audrey decided to interpret that as a fact that the bridge to Wakanda wasn’t on a rocky bluff. The closest thing to that description was the Francis Marion National Forest to the North.

The fact that Wakanda was unmapped is what made Audrey’s brain hurt the most. Even with all of the information she was able to pull and rationalize, Audrey could still be wrong. She could be miles off. Or the whole place could just not exist. That was the most frustrating part for Audrey. She hated to think that all of this work she was putting in would be worthless if Wakanda isn’t real.

The map had taken longer than usual because she was constantly fighting herself for trusting Erik’s word, a criminal’s word, that Wakanda exists. Audrey did her best to remind herself of Killmonger’s seedy background otherwise she might find herself beginning to like him. She began to make up outrageous stories about him to keep her feelings in check. Erik brought her dinner? He probably picked it up from Roland’s after punching a man and leaving him to drown in his own blood in a city gutter somewhere. Erik brought her a new set of ink pens? He probably found them on the black market or stole them from an art store three towns over. Or he could just be nice… Audrey shook herself from her spiraling mind. Mr. Stevens is a client, nothing more.

“Okay, I’m done.” Erik leaned over Audrey’s shoulder, admiring the map and inhaling her scent. Fresh parchment and brown sugar.

“Well then baby doll, It was nice doing business with you.” Erik reached to grab the map, a sort of listless sadness falling to his gut, but Audrey snatched it out of his reach.

“I’m coming with you.”

“Excuse me?”

“I’m coming with you to find Wakanda.”

“Says who?”

“I do. I made the damn map Stevens!”

“Yeah and?” Audrey was too busy flitting around the shop to see Erik’s unimpressed expression. “What about your momma? You just gon leave her with the shop?”

“Yes I am. She can handle the shop, she’s done it before. I’m going.” Audrey was out of the door and hopping up the stairs to her apartment when she finished. She dragged Erik along to make sure he didn’t drive off without her. “Just have to grab a few things…”

Audrey ignored Erik’s grumblings as she pushed her way through the apartment door, bee-lining to her bedroom and dragging out a backpack she had only used a few times. It was bulkier than she was used to, but she had no idea how long this search would take. Erik on the other hand was frozen in the kitchen. Sure, he’d been into women’s bedrooms before, but he wasn’t here for that. Erik was beginning to believe that Audrey would never see him as anything other than a client, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to test her limits either. He’d gotten what he wanted, the map was within his reach, but he didn’t want to shake Audrey either.

Erik surprised himself when he admitted that he wanted a partner on this trip. Someone to share the frustration in the search, the joy in the discovery and the disappointment should things go wrong. Don’t think like that Erik. Don’t think that shit into existence. Instead of staying in his own mind, Erik observed Audrey’s tiny apartment. The kitchen was covered in paintings of the world. France opening to a window over the silver sink and Greece crawling across the cupboard doors. The wood floor creaked as Audrey flitted back and forth, shoving one last shirt into her bag and grabbing her pencil case.

“All done!” Audrey bounded down the stairs, Erik following slowly behind.

“You’re really going to leave your mom?”

“I’ll write her a note.”

“Are you sure that will be en—” Erik stopped short when they arrived back in the shop. Audrey breezed past him, kissing her mother on the cheek and grabbing a few maps on the table behind her.

“Ma! I was just abut to write you a note.” In a moment of brattiness, Audrey turned to Erik to stick her tongue out.

“I’m going on a research trip with Mr. Stevens.” Audrey’s mother nodded to her. She had done this plenty of times, running to the nearest train station and hopping on the express to explore another state. It was all a part of the job.

“Alright honey. You be careful.” She gave Audrey what looked to be a bone crushing hug, releasing her after a few moments and turning to Erik.

“I’d like to speak with you before you go Mr. Stevens.” This time Audrey stopped short, wondering what her mother was up to. “Go on Audrey, he’ll meet you at the car in just a minute.” Audrey pushed down the embarrassment she had from being shooed away by her mother and walked out of Cade’s Atlas, refusing to linger at the door.

“Audrey is my only child, I try to let her do what she wants, but I’m still her momma. Now, I don’t know what the two of you are up to, but if you hurt my girl, there will be a price to pay.” Killmonger admired the strength in Mrs. Cade’s delivery. He even laughed a little at her last statement.

“Mrs. Cade, is that a threat?” Erik didn’t have to wonder where Audrey got her fire from.

“Of course not. You of all people should know it’s a promise.” Mrs. Cade’s voice dripped with serpentine sweetness and Erik’s vicious smile mirrored her own.

“I’ll return her in one piece Mrs. Cade. You don’t need to worry about a thing.”

—o—

With the map in hand and a tank full of gas, the pair of explorers could have set off that second, but Erik had a few things to take care of in town. He parked in front of Oakies as usual, opening Audrey’s door in a heartbeat. Instead of following him in though, she made her way to Junie’s Sweet Shop. If she was really on her way to discover Wakanda, she needed to see her best friend one last time.

When she entered, Audrey tried to remember every little detail. She didn’t know when she’d be back. She waved to the kids out front, giving their new puppy a scratch before making her way to the back. Junie was slamming a wad of dough down on the counter. It hit the linoleum with a slap and the scent of cinnamon and sugar flew through the air to Audrey.

“I’m gonna miss your cinnamon scrolls?” Junie looked up to see Audrey’s exaggerated pout as she whined.

“Why are you gonna miss them young lady? Going somewhere?”

“Kind of. I mean yeah I’m leaving for a bit. I came to say goodbye.” In all the time she’d known her, Audrey had never made a point to say goodbye to Junie. If she ever left, it was never for more than a few days and Junie would see Audrey at the shop the second she returned. Junie could tell that something was different this time.

“Goodbye?”

“For a little while I guess. I’m going on a research trip…with Mr. Stevens.”

“With Killmonger?” Junie narrowed her eyes, though her hands never stopped kneading the dough she was working on. Audrey flinched at the laser focus Junie had on her.

“Are you sure you aren’t eloping?”

“Junie, what? No! Why would you say that?” Audrey sputtered question after question while Junie shrugged.

“People talk Audrey. They’ve seen his ride at your shop all hours of the day…” Junie trailed off suggestively, and Audrey slapped her on the arm.

“We are not eloping. We’re going to find Wakanda. It’s a research trip.” Audrey did her best to emphasize the professional nature of this trip but Junie ignored that in favor of her own assumptions.

“I’m sure you can elope in Wakanda.”

“Junie! We’re not getting married. Now can you pack us something sweet for the road?” Audrey did her best to reign in her frustration. Junie loved to tease Audrey about any and all gentlemen callers she had. She wasn’t technically wrong, Mr. Stevens had spent a lot of time at Cade’s Atlas while Audrey was making the map, but that didn’t mean anything was going on with them.

Junie filled a small box with cookies and muffins and Audrey requested more, sliding a $20 bill into Junie’s pocket.

“Audrey! You take that back! I don’t want your money.”

“Too bad!” In reality Audrey just wanted $20 worth of sweets, because if all she got was that little box, it would be gone before she could blink. In the time they’d spent together, Audrey found that Mr. Stevens tended to eat most of her sweets. She was beginning to think those gold fangs were fillers for cavities instead of intimidation tactics.

Junie loaded up two more cake boxes full of treats and the two women hugged their goodbye. Arms full, Audrey crossed the street to Oakies. Someone opened the door for her and she entered the juice joint for what could very well be her last time. On stage a woman murmured about ‘hell, calling me home’ with a cellist by her side and some kind of electric piano in front of her. She waved to the bartender, taking a seat at the golden booth Mr, Stevens claimed as his throne.

“Killmonger sir, Ms. Cade has returned.” Erik nodded to his best bartender, Emerson as he gathered his bags. Killmonger had already put his club in the right hands, contacted his distributor’s and warned them of his hiatus, and ensured that Mrs. Floyd could air out his apartment every few days. He wasn’t quite sure how long this whole search could take. He gathered the envelope from his father last, and made his way to Audrey.

“Finished with your goodbyes baby doll?” Audrey stood and narrowed her eyes at his tone.

“What? The biggest bootlegger in the County doesn’t have anyone to say goodbye to?” Audrey’s tone was teasing, but for the first time Erik truly thought about it. Most of his colleagues were just that, colleagues. Erik didn’t do friends. Too messy and too much work. But, Audrey may be on to something. There was someone who had been on his mind since this morning. Years longer than that if he was being honest with himself.  

“There might be one person. If you don’t mind a little road trip?”

—o—

June 12, 1920: Ridgeland Correctional Institution; Ridgeland, SC

Audrey should really stop agreeing to road trips with criminals. The pair, well Erik, had packed everything into the car with ease. Erik barely allowed Audrey to carry the pastries to the car, and she wanted to kick her fluttering heart for reacting at his gentile act. Mr. Stevens could be kind when he wanted, but Audrey hasn’t forgotten that threat. She doubted she ever would which is why she was pinching herself for agreeing to yet another road trip with Erik ‘Killmonger’ Stevens.

Erik felt…unsure of how he felt. He tried to rationalize his choice as he sped South. Audrey was silent, reading some book about tides and sketching periodically. For once he wished she would open her big mouth and talk, if only for a distraction. Erik needed a distraction so he could stop thinking about what he was about to do. He missed his mother. Of course he missed her, but he made her a promise and he was about to break it. He was about to break a promise he kept for over a decade. All to say goodbye.

“Don’t come looking for me.”

Erik took the long way around. He’d mapped out a route to the Ridgeland Correctional Institution when his mother had first been taken. He knew every road that ran through it, every conceivable way to get to his mother. Still, he never once took it. He’d planned elaborate escape plans in his head, even thought of assembling a team at one point, but never acted on it. He soaked up every detail of the place, from the rotting wooden sign to the cracked pavement.

As he approached the door, he felt excitement bubbling up. The kind he remembered from childhood, when his father would return from Wakanda with stories and gifts. He was going to see his momma. He felt his heart rise at the prospect of telling his mother he was finally going home. He huffed a quiet disbelieving laugh at the realization. After all of these years, he was returning home. He felt closer to N’Jobu just thinking about it.

Audrey walked cautiously behind Erik. She’d never been to a jail before and certainly not the main penitentiary for the county. Audrey wondered if he was meeting with some criminal before she remembered the conversation they’d had this morning.

“My momma’s been in penitentiary since I was six.”

Erik pulled open the door with the kind of confidence Audrey could never muster when walking into the holding cell of the worst criminals in the state. She saw Erik’s small smile reflected in the window of the door as it swung wide. He held the door and ushered her in, and she watched Erik sign in at the front desk. They waited for a moment in silence, and then Erik was called to the front again.

He disappeared through a slate grey door with an old mean-faced white man following behind. Audrey found herself holding her breath as she waited. She watched the seconds tick by on her watch, doing her best not to catch anyone’s eye. She tried, but she couldn’t help looking at the families that sat waiting. Babies and mothers and brothers and sons all waiting to see someone they loved beyond belief, behind the iron bars of a shitty cell.

She caught the eye of a little boy unintentionally. He was staring at her, and she only turned to look at him when she felt his look. He was young, way too young to be in the waiting room of a prison. He had big brown eyes chubby cheeks and ears he might grow into. She gave him a wave and he waved back happy with the attention. Before she could do anything else, Erik burst through the doors. He strode through the waiting area, right past Audrey, and into the bright, hot day.

“Excuse me.” Audrey waved to get the receptionists attention. The white woman drew her blue eyes up to her face, confused and bewildered.

“My partner went back to see someone, but he just stormed out. Did something happen?”

“Name?”

“Erik Stevens.”

“Oh! Yes m’am something did happen.” Audrey raised a brow, encouraging her to elaborate and quickly. Audrey had no way of knowing if Erik would leave her stranded here.

“He came to see his mother, but she…well she passed away.”

“What?”

“He came to see his mother but she died here a few years ago.” Years? Shouldn’t he have been notified? even if he wasn’t next of kin, he was her son. The courts could have sent him a letter or something. There was no point unloading those questions on this broad though. She didn’t seem to be the type of girl with the answers, but Erik deserved something from this place.

“Did she have any personal affects?”

“We throw everything away after a year if no one comes to pick them up.” The woman got a look at Audrey’s face and apologized. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

“Sure you are.”

—o—

June 13, 1920: Rantowles, SC

Audrey was happy to see that Erik hadn’t left her stranded, but she wasn’t sure how to breach this conversation. In the end he opened the door for her, and they didn’t talk about anything at all. The sun was falling fast in the sky and Erik pulled over at a motel, got the pair separate rooms and bade Audrey a goodnight.

Erik wanted to shoot himself in the foot for the hope he let find its way into his heart. He should have known his mother would die in that place. Everybody dies there. Everybody dies. The fact that he let himself believe he might still have one parent alive was the dumbest thing he’s done in a long time. He couldn’t believe he was stupid enough to believe he could see her again, after all of these years. He let his self-loathing put him to sleep, praying to Bast or whoever the hell else could hear him that he’d wake up tomorrow feeling better than he did today.

Morning came and Audrey was up with the sun. She spread the map out on her bed again, feeling the forests they would go through to find Wakanda. A knock sounded on her door, followed by a command to be ready in ten minutes. Audrey was glad to see that Mr. Stevens could still talk, even if it was doling out demands. She couldn’t even begin to imagine what he must be feeling. She didn’t want to. That didn’t stop her from trying to empathize with the man when they were back in the car and on the road.

“If you want to talk, I’ll listen.” Erik gazed at Audrey for as long as he could before pulling his eyes back to the road. They drove for another hour, Audrey noting the sign for the city of Rantowles again.

“What are we doing here?” Erik only slid the clutch into park and let the automobile idle.

N’Jobu always told Erik if he wanted to come home, he should bring a gift. That’s why he made this pit stop in Rantowles. To pick up a little gift. Ulysses Klaue was waiting outside of his gunmetal grey building with a khaki backpack and a maniacal grin. Audrey couldn’t figure out why the hell Klaue was coming along and she “accidentally” stomped on Erik’s foot when he ushered her out of the front seat and pointed to the back seat.

“I’ve got to be honest, I don’t like the idea of being the third wheel on your honeymoon. Why am I needed along this little adventure again?” Killmonger had an easy answer for Klaue, that Audrey had never even heard before now.

“Audrey’s got most of the location figured out, but having you along will help us to be sure we’re on the right path.” Audrey wanted to slap him for keeping her in the dark, but refrained. Besides, you can only hit so hard from the back seat.

“Alright, I’ll come, I’m due for a vacation anyways.” Audrey tried to ignore the shivers that rippled down her spine as Klaue laughed and they sped north on highway 17.

—o—

June 13, 1920: Francis Marion National Forest; Awendaw, SC

Killmonger pulled into a dirt patch and threw the automobile in park. The trio of explorers hopped out the machine, Audrey begrudgingly accepting the assistance of Erik’s hand. She was still getting the hang of these clunky hiking boots, not to mention the pants. The three of them made quite the group, matching in khaki and burdened with backpacks.

“Does this look familiar to you?”

“It’s dirt and trees boy, I need to get closer if I’m going to remember.” Audrey noted the way Erik’s fist clenched at the word ‘boy’ and prayed he wouldn’t do anything reckless. She warily watch Klaue make his way to the treeline making an aborted movement to follow when Erik pulled her back, into his chest.

“Audrey.” Her head whipped around at the sound of his voice in her ear. She stared at him in disbelief. Sure they spent a lot of time together in the past week, but he’d never dared to touch Audrey.

“Hmm?” Audrey reply was distracted by his scent, and that was not what Erik wanted to hear.

“Audrey! This is serious. You need to stay close to me. No matter what.”

“What?” Audrey heard the urgency in his voice but couldn’t understand it. No, she didn’t trust Klaue, but they weren’t going on some crazy dangerous mission. For all intents and purposes, this was just a hike in the woods.  

“I made a promise to your momma that I would bring you ba—” Erik rolled his eyes as he was interrupted by Klaue.

“What are you two whispering about back there? Come on love birds! It’s time to find the hidden city.” Klaue nearly giggled with glee. Audrey gave Erik a look that shamed him for inviting this crazy man on their hunt for Wakanda but he only nudged her forward with a palm on her back.

Walking across the treelike was like stepping into another world. Suddenly everything was deeper, greener. The trees enveloped the group and Audrey was grateful for the hand on her back. She could get lost in these woods in a heartbeat seeing as they’d barely been mapped. When Audrey had requested the maps to the area, she found the only ones available had been from the parks’ inception. The ragged edges and faded borders had left a lot to be desired and Audrey noted that she should probably convince the state to let her redo the maps when she returned.  

They walked until the sun was high in the sky Klaue leading them north, then south, then west. Audrey protested each time he led them in another direction, but for some reason, Erik listened to Klaue instead of Audrey. In fact, he barely said a word to Audrey the whole time they were out there, instead using the time to banter with Klaue. It’s not that Audrey was jealous, she just couldn’t understand what she had done to make Erik act so cold with her.

Either way, she was sick of their shit. After lunch, she resolved to go her own way, with or without the boys. The trio sat in a clearing where the trees filtered the sunlight. Erik admired the way the light bounced off of Audrey’s brown skin and prayed she remembered their conversation. He had a plan, and she’d already ruined it by coming along. He didn’t need to alter it any further, not even for a pretty little bird.  

“Now Klaue, I think you owe me an explanation.” He pulled a pistol from his back, and Audrey stumbled back, behind Erik. They hadn’t even finished eating. Klaue glanced up, bits of ham hanging from his mouth and falling into his beard.

“Woah boy. What’s all that about?”

“Oh this? Just a little incentive. Why are you leading us on a wild goose chase?” Erik sauntered up to Klaue, and Audrey followed behind, under the guise of getting something from her backpack. She had a feeling this is what Erik meant earlier today when he told her to stay close.

“Boy, you better put that gun away”

“Answer my question.” Erik pressed the pistol into Klaue’s temple.

“You don’t want to go there boy. Those people are savages—”

“Wrong answer.”

Bang! Birds erupted from the trees, wings beating loud like the blades of boat fans. Audrey stumbled, falling on her butt as she gaped at Erik’s back. Erik, meanwhile took his time wiping the blood off of his pistol with Klaue’s own handkerchief. He turned and offered her his hand, but Audrey scrambled back before she scrambled up.

“What the hell was that? He was helping us!”

“Was he? He wasn’t leading us anywhere close to where you think Wakanda might be. He was wasting my time. Our time.” Killmonger was annoyed he even had to explain himself.

“So you shot him?” Audrey fired back and began to pace. “Oh lord, I’ve just witnessed a murder.” She whirled on Erik “You made me witness a murder!”

“You said you wanted to come baby doll.” He sneered the endearment. “Besides, we don’t need him to find Wakanda. You made the damn map.” He tucked his pistol back into his pants, and bent down towards the corpse of Klaue.

“So why would you—” Audrey’s voice gave out and so did she. She had no idea what this man was planning, and at this point she was too shocked to try deciphering him.

“You gon’ help or nah?” Erik was busy moving the food off of the picnic blanket while he spoke and the words came out muffled.

“Absolutely not!” Audrey was offended at the mere suggestion that she might help Killmonger move a dead body.

“Well you either need to help out up or dry up. I’m not trying to hear all that noise.” It had been a while since Killmonger had quickly killed a man, and he forgot how much he reveled in the lingering silence of a dead body.

“Whatever.” Audrey scoffed and rolled her eyes. “Once you’re done with that Stevens, maybe you can do something useful like help me look for the country you’re so keen to find when you aren’t murdering people.”

“Watch your tone baby doll. Don’t forget how easily I can snap your pretty little neck.” Killmonger didn’t need to be close to Audrey to scare her. His threat rang in the air between them while he wrapped Klaue’s corpse in their picnic blanket.

“Besides, any white man who’s been to Wakanda ain’t never had good intentions.”

—o—

With Audrey’s directions, the pair and some ‘luggage’ found themselves on the shore of a sandy beach. No rocks or bluffs, just perfect sand and calm waters. That was enough to bring a smile to Audrey’s face, but she couldn’t see a bridge of any kind. She decided to return to the tree line and look for anything out of the ordinary. This time, Erik trailed behind her, dragging the dead man’s body along quietly.

He didn’t touch her again, even when she tripped and landed on her hands and knees in front of him. He watched her fall, and she looked back to see him staring as she rose. Audrey glared back, ignoring the feeling stirring in her stomach in favor of finding anything that could prove her map right. She finally saw something where the trees kissed the sand and sea.

“What kind of tree is that?” Erik was surprised to hear Audrey speaking to him at all, but drew his gaze to the tree she was talking about.

“I don’t know, it looks like all the others.” It wasn’t, and Audrey could see that. Most of the trees in this region were lushly leafy and slender trunked. This tree was the complete opposite. It had a thick gnarled trunk and was bare branched. It almost looked like it was pasted there not planted in the ground.

“No it doesn’t. It looks like a baobab tree. Baobab trees don’t grow in the South, or in this country at all.”

“So?” Ignoring Erik, Audrey started towards the tree, palms out. It felt like a normal tree, though the bark was smoother than she expected. She stopped down to inspect the trunk, roots, and soil, looking for any sign that this was a sign. Erik was a bit more hesitant, dropping Klaue’s body to the ground with a thud. Before he could touch a fingertip to the tree Audrey spoke.

“You said your dad was from Wakanda right? And that they had their own language? What did it look like?”

“I can’t describe that shit baby doll.”

“Did it look like this?” Erik stooped down beside Audrey brushing her small shoulder with his broad one. He was shocked to see the Wakandan alphabet spelling out: Welcome Home. His breath hitched.

“Yeah. It—” Erik ran his fingers over the tree and for a moment the pair could have sworn it glowed blue. He caressed the letters again and there was another ebb of sapphire light. Audrey grabbed Erik’s wrist and pushed his hand on the tree trunk, holding it there with her own.

“Stevens, put both of your hands on the tree.” Indigo light pulsed through the tree trunk like blood through veins. Erik tried to focus on Audrey’s words and ignore her brown hand on his.

“What?”

“Just do it. I think the tree knows you’re Wakandan.”

“That’s the stupidest shit I’ve ever…” Erik couldn’t finish his sentence because the world fell open before him. More specifically, the bridge to Wakanda rose from the sea.

A/N: So this chapter ate my whollllle weekend lol. I wasn’t sure I’d get it out today but it wouldn’t leave me alone either. I thought about breaking it up into two chapters but...that...never...happened? This is basically the end of Part 1 of this story and the rest will be Erik and Audrey in Wakanda, which I’m excited to write! Hope you guys like it!

As always I love reviews and reblogs :)

Taglist: @ontheroadtoenlightenment @thatrandomfangirl98 @muse-of-mbaku @k-michaelis @dreadedphilosphy @panthergoddessbast @princessstevens @killmoncoochie @queenamaniii

[esseastri]

Megan Reads Oathbringer (part 7)

blerg, I wanted to hit page 500 in the last chunk o’ liveblog, but alas. We continue on. This book is just too dense, the liveblog posts are too long and I will continue to mention that in every one of these posts, ‘cause it’s wild just how much is in here!

Part 7 encompasses pages 476-557 (previous parts)

OOOOOOOH JASNAH POV!!!!

hey, her art bubble is the old Shallan art bubble. that’s...boring. why doesn’t she get her own?

I’m emotional about Taln forever and ever

Jasnah being paranoid about her safety and assassins and stuffing her ventilation shaft with cloths is...so... You don’t expect Jasnah to be scared, but here she is. It makes perfect sense--she got stabbed through the chest, of course she’s scared--but she’s so poised and in control, you just don’t expect it.

OMG Jasnah had back up files of her notes!!! That’s brilliant.

spanreeds are so cool

do we know which type of spren Ivory is? if we do I don’t remember.

just keep reading, Megan, they’ll tell you. Inkspren. ...of course.

also, I’d been wondering how Jasnah was “broken”--since all the Radiants are--and somehow I never expected childhood illness. that’s a logical breaking point, but I never even thought of it.

THERE WAS A JASNAH AND HOID’S MOST EXCELLENT ADVENTURE!!! THERE WAS!!! I’VE BEEN ROBBED!!!

but also, wtf did she learn, what did she learn from him. I’m guessing it’s the same thing the Stormfather refused to tell Dalinar... about all ten orders returning.

god, I really, really hope that my theory about them replacing the Heralds is wrong. I don’t want that. ..

(It’s a good theory though; the first new members of the ten orders all make a new Oathpact at the end of the fifth book. the back five are about their first time breaking and the first Desolation post-this one. It’s awful and I don’t want it, but you gotta admit, it’s an interesting theory, at least in a meta way.)

also I’m sad no one likes the honorspren. Syl is such a good. then again, she’s different than her peeps, she always says.

gaahhh, the Moash chapters are killing me every time I see that patchless shoulder I just die a lil bit inside

“Compared to bridge duty, this was paradise.” I’M CRYING??? This is so, so much the ‘I did that, so I can survive anything’ mentality and I’m cry.

okay, but can all of the Fused use all of the Surges? or do they all do different things? Do they have the equivalent of radiant orders?

(I’m going to be so excited if Moash gets a spren, but I feel like he maybe has to take responsibility for his actions first...)

aaahh Moash is taking the Kaladin route of “I don’t care about these people but storm it, I’m helping them anyway”.

OH SHIT Those are the ones who Kaladin helped, aren’t they... they brought “a false god” that was Kaladin shit shit shit they are getting punished for him. He would die if he knew, oh god.

AAAHH MOASH IS A GOOD “You’re becoming like us” Ohhhh goooddd yep. yep. wow. Be better. Do better. The theme of this book, and I love it. I LOVE MOASH AAHHH

punk!Dalinar not being allowed to fight is wild.

OOOHH THEY DIDN’T TELL HIM HE’S BEEN HURTING PEOPLE?? WHY!!!!?? YOU GOTTA TELL HIM HE’S DESTROYING PEOPLE’S LIVES BY BEING A BLACKOUT DRUNK AND FIGHTING PEOPLE

THAT’S NOT A GOOD THING AND HE SHOULD KNOW THAT

his name means “born unto light” oh my god that’s delightful oh my god

ohno. you should not send Dalinar back to war, u should keep him at home and maybe find him a therapist to talk to him about the Thrill...

FLYING KHOLINS AHOY!!

“something profoundly disconcerting about being out on the ocean” disconcerting? You’ve misspelled exciting.

They are holding hands while flying that’s adorable

I love that it’s “Elhokar’s team” when we all know Kaladin will end up in charge, much to Adolin’s chagrin...

No comment on what Dalinar’s hair looks like all windswept, obviously that means he’s been windswept into full greaser-style pompadour.

“shellheads” really? wtf. you didn’t call them that before. it’s only after they gain sentience that you give them derogatory nicknames?

High King Dalinar founding his own kingdom is wild to think about...

All of Navani’s scribes and engineers are so excitable. I love it.

Dalinar sneaking about without guards is nervewracking. Pls be safe, buddy.

“what else were important lighteyes going to do with unmotivated children?” Uuh...motivate them? Don’t just throw them aside to the church and expect them to drain resources by doing nothing for the rest of their lives? Find some way for them to be productive members of society? Why is this such a hard concept?

Fucking lighteyes

“He was RURAL Alethi he CAN’T be a HERALD” fuck off, Kadash. Kaladin is from a backwater and he’s a Radiant. And Taln wasn’t a king. We know this.

“No spiritual basis for rule” seems like a good thing to me...separation fo church and state and all that...

Something I’m not surprised that Vorinism sucks ass at caring for the mentally ill...

Yeah, ok, but who cut Taln’s wall from the outside? one of the other Heralds? Someone who still has their honorblade? Or some...Diagram/Ghostblood/SonofHonor mofo who realized before we did that Taln is a Herald? I’M CONCERNED FOR MY ANCIENT BROKEN SON

“Lately, he didn’t much like himself.” Noooooo, Moaaaashhh!! I still like you! A lot!!!

I am absolutely delighted that the Fused point their toes when they are flying. My synchronized swimming ass is just...DELIGHTED

“You don’t farm an apocalypse.” heheheh

The tavern is called the Fallen Tower? really? Dalinar’s army fell at the Tower... and Bridge Four saved them. really.

omg noooo noooooooooo no

nooo

nooooooooo

that’s

a lumberyard. and

ladderruns. that’s the same damn thing oh god

no, I don’t want this.

Let Moash Live 2k17

There’s a weird trend of swapping PoVs in the middle of a chapter. I’m not used to it.

“They acted like they owned her already.” I mean...they kinda do, Shallan. You kinda fucked up with them.

“without her having to remain at the meeting” hon, you are needed at the meetings for reasons other than your mapmaking skills??

“I am my own woman” teeeechnically, you’re...what, Taravangian’s subject now? Right, he’s in charge of Vedenar.

Evi deserves better than punk!Dalinar. Him yelling at her because she invaded his manly man-space is gross and he should stop

Navani just chilling with Evi and Ialai is wild. I legit can’t imagine them all getting along.

Also, I love that Renarin’s name is just a name. I love the convoluted meaning of nothing. it’s great.

Evi is a Good and she! deserves! better!

oh god babies

tiny, tiny babies

Evil flying chulls!! Tiny Adolin is too cute oh god

Just writing down that page 519 is the glyph alphabet. That’s important, you know. :)

NanKhet’s list of assassination attempts and then his like... banquet of executions. is some Greek mythology shit up in here. That’s #yikes

Pastry chef scholar man! I love it! I love that there aRE people in Vorin lands who don’t adhere to Vorinism’s gender roles, people who think gender roles are for squares.

Hello Darkness My Old Friend has waaay too many names. Nakku, Nalan, Nale. This is why I just still call him Hello Darkness.

“Did you misplace her?” One does not simply misplace Lift.

They keep talking about how Thaylen City was super wrecked by the Everstorm and that’s fair, but like...has anyone heard from Shin? Talk about being unprotected for a wrong-way highstorm...

Jasnah reflexively sucking in Stormlight the second Amaram appears in the doorway is Big Mood.

“Other than the fact that you are a detestable buffoon who acheives only the lowest level of mediocrity, as it is the best your limited mind can imagine? I can’t possibly think of a reason.” GOD FUCKING BLESS.

“Give me an excuse. I dare you.” BIGGEST MOOD EVER OH MY GOD

yeah, you run away. fucker.

“The Windrunner” “the flying bridgeman” “brightlord broodingeyes” HE HAS A NAME, LADIES. He has a name.

I’m super tired of everyone--especially Jasnah--underestimating and disregarding Renarin.

And then he goes and does COOL SHIT LIKE FIND THE RESONATING LIBRARY!!!!??

Also, Jasnah can infuse gems with light? wacky fun.

oohh LIghtweaving isn’t just light it’s “and various waveforms” Renarin’s LIghtweaving is super different from Shallan’s isn’t it!!? I can’t want to see MOAR SURGES

Nooooo, Moash.... you gotta do the Kaladin thing! You can’t let go! Look at you, you are already helping the people he helped. You can’t stop yourself any more than he could. You’re not here to let go. You’re here to remember how to care.

Moash bby, I know you are prone to stupid decisions, but please...please don’t do anything stupid...

.........like that.

okay, creepy flying in charge lady. is creepy.

Okay, teaching the parshmen how to spear is good? sort of? from a certain point of view.

Ooooh Rlain pov!!! That’s new and interesting.

you know why is he here? How did he not get eaten by the first Everstorm?

HECK YE ALL FIVE LADY SCOUT WINDRUNNER SQUIRES HEEECKKK YYESSSSS

THEMS MY GIRLS

“He loved them because they did try.” Aaaahhhhh

“That’s like...extra manly.” I’m not sure that’s how being gay works, but I’ma roll with it. :D

“I guess it’s just a thing men say. Can you tell me how it feels?” “I can try.” KALADIN IS A GOOD WHO IS TRYING VERY HARD AND RLAIN IS ALSO A GOOD WHO IS TRYING VERY HARD AND I’M EMOTIONAL

I am so glad they are Trying Together.

That is an interesting question...did the magic stagnate them? stop people from being interested in finding non-magic ways of doing things? not just steel, but like...idk, indoor plumbing and better ways of farming, or anything that a Soulcaster can do. Why would you need better ways when you have the magic way?

It’s a very Harry Potter Wizard Wolrd mentality, tbh.

Oh shit, the Recreance was 2k years AFTER the Heralds bugged out and broke the Oathpact? That’s a long time for them to keep going without their leaders? and then to suddenly stop after all that time? whyyyy

what did they learn? about their spren? Jasnah knows.

Oh no!!!

nooo

he can hear the spren dying!!!???? OH NOOO

OH SNAP

WHAT

WHAT

NO

UM??? WHAT

THE FUCK?

HOW DID HE HACK DALINAR’S VISION?? WHERE DID HE COME FROM? HOW DID HE GET HERE? HOW DANGEROUS IS HE IN THIS FORM? HOW IS HE HERE?

WHAT

IS

HAPPENING

god, how many times did Dalinar rely on the Thrill? that’s got to leave some kind of bond, some connection. Something Odium can exploit.

God, it’s still really weird to think of Odium--the bad guy--as light, gold, white. it’s refreshing, but also wtf

Ah, fuck off, you’re not a god. The Shardholders are not gods. They’re just dudes with extra powerful magic. Ask Sazed.

God, okay, the STormfather is so. scared. wtf.

Oooohh, he hasn’t gotten Cultivation yet. She’s hidden and he’s bound--not very well if he’s here now, but still.

Can she help us?

Why does he...have to kill people? Is it because he’s the avatar of hatred of something else?

...interesting. Passion.

..........interesting that the Thaylens worship the Passions.

Also, I resent that if he’s All Sorts of Emotion/Passion, there’s the implication that all emotion eventually leads to violence, and I RESENT THAT SO HARD

oh snap, Cultivation is the Nightwatcher? What? I did not expect that...

goes further to the None of the Three Shards Are Good or Bad

though Odium might be lying...

what the shit

was that the Odium hell planet?

Did....did Lift just... scare him away?

I’m increaingly thinking shes got a bit of Cultivation in her. She’s not just a kiddo, and not just a Radiant, there’s something funky going on with her, and I think it’s something powerful enough to scare Odium.. hm...

EEEEYYYYY END PART TWO!!!!!

eww gross, Taravangian AND Venli? Bad interludes are bad. Where’s Szeth? I miss him.

[witharthurkirkland]

Don’t go to the Castle

Here is my Halloween Vampire AU fic. This is actually a prologue to something I may or may not get to write in the future. I borrowed the Discworld universe for this one, so you get Igors who lisp and the vampires talk with an accent. But you don't need to have read the Discworld books to understand what's going on (at least, I think so). If you have questions about this universe: feel free to ask them.

Read it here or on ao3.

“Don’t go to the castle,” they said.

But people went anyway.

“Don’t be lured in by the host’s friendliness,” they said.

But people were lured in anyway.

“Don’t stay overnight,” they said.

But people stayed overnight anyway.

“We told them,” the people would say afterwards, shaking their heads.

 The village of Dontgotothecastle was the sort of village that only appeared on maps to save the mapmakers from the embarrassment of so much empty space.

Lost up in the mountains it wasn’t anywhere near the roads used by the postal coaches, or near any roads that led to a big city, for that matter. And yet, some kind of magic compelled people to show up at the village, looking lost and bewildered, and asking for directions to Bonk, or other cities the names of which sounded far-off and foreign. One kind villager had gone to great lengths to find out directions to that city and then put up signs for it, but still people asked for directions.

“Actually, it’s getting late,” the visitor would point out in a worried tone of voice. “Do you have an inn?”

“Ah, you see, Miss, we do and we have lots of comfortable rooms with good beds,” a villager would say helpfully.

But the visitor wouldn’t listen. “What’s that up there?”

Knowing exactly how this would go, the villager sighed. “That’s Dontgotothe Castle. Don’t go there.” A sudden idea came to him and he added, “It’s just interesting from this angle, Miss, but believe me when you get up close, it’s really not all that interesting. And it’s mostly empty too.”

“So no one lives there?” the young woman asked.

The villager sighed. This visitor was young and beautiful and he knew exactly what happened to young and beautiful women who went up to the castle. “Not really.” And that statement was very true.

“I wanna go to the castle!” a voice exclaimed.

The young woman turned around as the villager’s eyes fell on the carriage.

A little boy was sticking his head out of the window. With an embarrassed yelp, he ducked back into the carriage.

Oh no, this one has a son too! the villager thought.

“The castle it is, then,” the young woman said brightly. She gave the villager a happy wink. “My son and I are really just out to see the countryside. This is the first time he was interested in anything.”

The villager threw a look around him to make sure no one could hear him. “Don’t go there,” he whispered. “Please, please don’t go.”

The young woman laughed. “Oh you don’t need to tell me that. I know who lives in ominous castles up in the mountains.” She turned to the carriage and hesitated. “You don’t sell any pictures of your village, do you?”

“Pictures?” the villager asked.

She nodded. “Yes. My husband couldn’t come with me, you see, so I thought I’d buy a picture for him. Do you have any?”

“Why would we sell pictures of our village?” the villager asked in some confusion. He felt very derailed by the conversation. He was just making ominous remarks about the castle and here she was asking for pictures!

The woman shrugged. “I don’t know, but the previous village we visited sold pictures like anything. I thought we could put them up on the walls. You know, give the visitors something to look at.”

The villager continued to stare at her blankly, which, for some reason, she took as an invitation to continue talking. “Oh yes, we get many visitors, you see. Feel free to visit us, when you come to Bonk!” she added. “Now, I need to go before it gets too dark. Have a good evening!”

“Y-yes… have a good evening,” the villager repeated before rushing away.

“How odd,” the woman said and climbed back into the carriage.

Her four-year-old son bounced happily on his seat. “Are we going to the castle, Mama?”

“Yes,” she said with a smile. “But it will be dangerous, so it’s a good thing I’m ready.”

The carriage continued its journey down a treacherous path that circled around the hill and went up into the mountains.

It was littered with big rocks all painted with the words “don’t go to the castle”. They didn’t go by unnoticed. “Well, it looks like we’re going in the right direction,” the woman said and reclined in her seat.

They came to the edge of a cliff where a rickety suspension bridge was the only thing between travellers and a long drop downwards. The carriage crossed it at the same steady pace it was going before. The woman and her son leaned out of the window to admire the water that rumbled below them.

“Is it cold, mama?” the boy asked.

“Mountain rivers are always cold,” she answered. “At least, that’s what I heard.”

The spires of the castle ahead gleamed in the moonlight. An impressive gave stretched over the raod, overgrown with gnarly old vines. It creaked open on their own, as soon as they got near, letting the carriage pass. They could see Dontgotothe Castle better now. It looked exactly like an old castle should look. It also sloped sideways, as if it could slip off the sharp cliff it stood on any moment.

The woman nodded approvingly, complete with tall windows and stone turrets. The castle had met with her approval. She watched her son stare at it with his mouth slightly open. He wasn’t scared in the slightest. She felt a pang of motherly pride, but didn’t say anything about it.

The carriage stopped and they climbed out and then went up the steep staircase.

She paused on the last step and looked down at her son. “Now, I want you to be on your best behaviour, alright?”

He nodded.

“Good.” She reached out for the door, but it creaked open before she even touched it.

“Good evening, mather and mithreth,” a voice called out.

Taking this as her invitation, the woman stepped inside, her son following closely behind her.

The door closed.

“May I take your coatth?” a voice asked right behind her, making her jump.

“Oh! Sorry, I didn’t notice you in the dark there, Igor,” she said, handing him her coat and helping her son out of his. “Is your master in?”

“Yeth. Mather is in the music room.”

As if to confirm this, the sound of an organ filled the hallway with suitably eerie and dramatic music.

“Thank you, Igor.” She held her hand out to her son and together they walked to the music room.

A man sat at the organ. He looked only a few years older than twenty, but, then again, twenty years ago he also looked a few years older than twenty, and even a hundred years ago he looked a few years older than twenty.

He pulled his hands away from the organ and turned in his chair. “Good evenink!” His voice carried well across the music room, just deep enough to touch that something in the listener’s chest and convince them that here was a man who could be trusted. Who should be trusted.

“And who do I haff the pleasure of meetink tonight?” There was just the hint of an accent when he spoke.

The woman stepped forward with her son and made her introductions with a polite curtsy. The little boy bowed. The host returned the bow and then kissed the woman’s hand.

“Yes, of course. You vill need a bedroom for the night. Igor,” he called.

“Yeth, mather?” Igor called, appearing by the host’s elbow.

“Is a bedroom prepared for my guests?”

“Yeth, mather.”

“Good. Vill you dine vith me?” the host asked his guests.

“With you?” the young woman clarified. “Yes.”

The host turned away with a laugh. “Yes, of course. Igor, I hope a dinner is ready for my guests.”

“Dinner will be ready shortly, mathter,” Igor promised.

“In that case, if you would accompany me?” the host offered his arm to the woman and together they went into the dining room.

Dinner passed exactly how dinner in a big castle always does: everyone sat at one end of the really long table so as to be close enough to speak to each other without shouting and to pass the salt if it was needed.

Their host didn’t eat anything. He merely drank a dark red liquid from a wine glass Igor had brought out for him.

“Tell me, vere do you liff?” their host asked.

“In Bonk!” the little boy answered eagerly. “We have a big inn and everything!”

“Really?” the host his chin on his hand. “And vat do you do? Do you go to school?”

“I’m not old enough,” the little boy protested and blushed a little as he realized that his voice was a little too loud.

His mother smiled. “He helps around the inn a lot.”

“Of course he does.” Their host downed the remains of his glass. “But vere are my manners? You must be tired from the journey. Go rest now. I haff things to see to myself.”

He rose to his feet and excused himself before leaving the room.

The young woman and her son finished their meal and climbed up the tallest tower with Igor in tow.

“Mathter, Mithreth, ith there anything elthe you require?” Igor asked.

The young woman smiled. “No thank you, Igor.”

“The Mathter apogolitheth he can’t thee you off in the morning,” Igor added, “but I will be there to help make breakfatht.”

The boy beamed at Igor. “Good night, Igor!”

“Good night, Mathter, Mithreth.” He bowed. “Now with your permithion I will go prepare Mather’th coffin.” He shuffled out of the room and closed the door.

“Mama, why did he say coffin?” the boy asked.

“Because our host sleeps in one,” the woman explained.

“Can I sleep in a coffin?”

The woman laughed and shook her head. “No. You will sleep in a bed like you always do.”

“I always have to sleep in a bed,” the boy grumbled.

She locked the door and picked up her son. “Now off to bed! It’s already really late!”

“Aww! Do I have to sleep, mama? I’d much rather explore the castle!” His eyes gleamed in excitement and then he tried to pout at his mother.

“You know that won’t work on me, young man!”

But half an hour later the boy got his own way anyway. Exhausted by the journey, his mother fell asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow. He, on the other hand, couldn’t sleep a wink. Like a good boy, he did his best, but something their host said at dinner kept bothering him.

Several times he alluded to his “little weakness” and the boy wondered what it was.

Their host was big and strong. What weakness could he possibly have?

Throwing a look at his mother to check that she was still sleeping, he slipped out of the bed, pulled his coat on over his nightshirt, unlocked the door and tiptoed out of the room.

The castle was big and dark. It was full of oddly-shaped furniture and metal men who stood very still and didn’t even answer the boy’s greetings.

The boy returned to the dining room, but it was still empty. He tried to remember which way the host had gone and when he couldn’t, he just picked a direction at random and went.

The castle was colder and darker here. The windows were all closed and he had to feel his way through the dark.

Just as he thought about going back it got lighter and he heard his host say: “Vell, you know how it is. I can’t help it.”

He tiptoed closer to get a better look.

It was very cold now.

As soon as he reached a corner, he stuck his head around it.

“You need to learn better self-control,” a man the boy had never seen before said.

“Yes, yes, better self-control,” his host muttered. “Do you think you haff better self-control than me?”

“Don’t giff me that,” the other man snapped back.

The host huffed and kept moving around the room.

He wasn’t walking. He wasn’t even flying like the boy heard vampires did. No, he was…

He was gliding.

The boy stepped forward for a better look and squinted. There were shoes with metal blades on his host’s feet. The ground was covered in ice. No wonder it was so cold! But he forgot about the cold as soon as he saw his host spin around and jump, landing back on the ice perfectly.

“Wow,” the boy whispered.

His host kept going, not noticing the boy who was watching him. He kept going like someone who would never stop, could never stop.

The boy felt a hand on his shoulder and jumped, but two hands picked him up and carried him away.

“What did I say about sleeping?” his mother asked as she walked further and further away from the big miracle out on the ice.

“B-but mother –!”

“Don’t argue, Yuuri, you know it’s well past your bedtime!”

Yuuri groaned and rolled his eyes. “Who cares about bedtime when…” He raised his eyes to look at his mother. “Did you see that, mother? Did you see what Count Victor did?”

“Yes, I did,” Hiroko said.

“Do you think I can learn how to do that too?” Yuuri asked.

Hiroko laughed. “Yuuri, if you put your mind to it, there’s nothing you can’t do.”

[eirist]

A Taste of Summer

SPLISH, SPLASH

One-shot #: 4

Disclaimer: One Piece (and its characters) belongs to Eiichiro Oda-sensei. Goldiggers are solely mine as well as Franky’s camp-in-a-bag.

Reminder: I have no beta-reader. Any grammatical and spelling errors are solely mine.

Warning: OOC possible. One shot.

Rating:  M (Over the top flirting and touching)

Note:  Entry for the #ZoNaSummerFestival event in Tumblr. Theme: Skinny Dipping & Mermaid.

Summary: And the treasure hunting adventure continues…

Three… two… one…

Nami hummed the countdown under her breath and as if on cue, a head broke the surface of the water, creating ripples that spread throughout the whole pool languorously. She stared, fascinated, as the figure swam towards the low boulder where she was currently sitting; the sound of arm strokes cutting through the water filling the somehow quiet night.

The figure stood up to its full height when it reached the shallower part of the swimming hole. The silvery light of the moon shone down on familiar green hair and made the three golden earrings on his left ear gleam.

The navigator’s lips curled into smile. Droplets of water rained down his muscled form, trailing lower to the rock hard abs she’s been dying to touch again, before disappearing right back into the water obscuring the lower part of his body. When he ran both of his hands through his hair to brush the excess liquid, her breath hitched and a familiar, warm sensation coiled inside her.

Apparently, Zoro had no idea how hot he can be.

She continued observing him with legs dangling over the edge of the rock, the tip of her toes lightly touching the cool water while relishing in the rare sight of their resident swordsman swimming buck-naked in a pool on a still-to-be-explored territory.

She initially climbed the boulder to get a good view of the area’s topography. She’d been mapping the place right from the moment they discovered that their theory (her and Robin’s) about the island was true.

An uncharted and unexplored place was a total bliss for both the mapmaker and archeologist.

Not to mention the possibility that there are treasures waiting to be found.

And they were not disappointed. All around the area were scattered ruins of unknown structures and buildings, hinting that a civilization once existed in this place before disappearing rather mysteriously.

Robin was beyond exhilarated while Nami was in euphoria when she ascertained that the glinting object she saw earlier from the top of the rock wall was indeed, treasure.

The orange-haired girl would’ve scoured all the other ruins if not for the approaching dusk and if not for Zoro putting a stop on her treasure rampage, by literally hauling her away and throwing her over his shoulder.

The Straw Hats decided to just set up camp for the night much to the excitement of the younger members of the crew. They will continue exploring the place tomorrow when they have more time and more light. A bonfire was started, bento boxes were distributed, and tents were put up by Franky’s new and handy camp-in-a-bag device much to the amazement of everyone.

Zoro’s deep voice suddenly cut through her thoughts, as sharp as his cursed sword. “What do you want Nami?” He tilted his head towards her and his grey eye met hers, already aware that she was watching him for some time now.

“Oh I’m just here to enjoy the view,” Nami joshed, winking at him. “Found some interesting...” she let her eyes roam up and down his body, deliberately biting her lower lip. “… terrains that I’d like to map.”

He merely scoffed at her response while a Cheshire cat-like grin appeared on her face.

“Did you finally sleep off your earlier craziness?” Zoro suddenly asked.

Nami pouted and playfully kicked some water towards him. She had sulked and ranted when he had stopped her from searching for more treasures. Zoro pointed out—in his usual straightforward manner—that the treasures will not go anywhere and that she should get some rest since they’ve been trekking since morning and she still haven’t had a proper shut eye ever since she'd woken up beside him at the inn.   

He had barely finished what he was saying when he realized that Nami had stopped flailing and a soft snore reached his ears. The navigator had fallen asleep, draped over his shoulder like a rag doll while he was in the middle of knocking some sense into her thick skull.

The former pirate hunter managed to miraculously bring her to where their nakama are gathered without getting lost. After butting heads with the cook and ignoring his demands to hand Nami over so HE can take care of her, he left the mapmaker sleeping in one of the already pitched tents.

“Say, what happened to Nami, Zoro?” Luffy asked with a finger shoved up his nose, though concern was evident on his face.

“Too much treasure hunt, captain.” He answered and the young man laughed.

“Alright! Let’s just let her sleep,” Usopp whispered. “She’ll be working our asses off tomorrow looking for treasures.”

Zoro nodded and moved away from them to find someplace where he can nap peacefully.

A few hours later, Robin and Chopper found him in one of the nearest ruins. The two exchanged glances and the reindeer prodded him awake, asking him to transfer in one of the tents to get a much better rest.

He declined and instead inquired about Nami.

Robin looked amused. “She’s still sleeping. Must be a really tiring day.”

Zoro chose to ignore her rather suggestive tone. “You know how she is with money and treasures.”

The raven-haired woman nodded. “True. And it seems like she’d gotten you rather exhausted too.”

He managed to catch the subtle implication in her comment. He paid no attention to it. She can make any assumptions she wants and he couldn’t care less. “You try catering to her whims for one whole day and I’ll bet you’ll feel the same.”

Robin chuckled. “Care to join us?” She invited, changing the subject just like that. “Chopper and I wanted to see what’s around the area.”

Said doctor jumped on his shoulder suddenly. “Yeah join us Zoro!”

“Hnn…”

His two crewmates took that as a yes and they roamed the vicinity until they reached the swimming hole where Nami found him much, much later.

“Why are you skinny dipping at this time of the night Zoro?” Nami asked in hushed tone, moving her feet a little to play with the water.

“How do you even know I’m skinny dipping?” He questioned back, making his way towards her.

Nami gazed pointedly at the swords and clothes resting near where she was sitting. Then her eyes returned to him. “The water’s awfully clear. I’ve been enjoying the sight of your ass for some time now.”

Zoro smirked.  “Pervert.”

She met his smirk with a devious smile of her own. “You have no idea.”

“Aren’t you going to join me?”

“Tempting, but no.”

“No?”

“You went here and swam alone without telling me.”

“Call it meditation woman besides you were sleeping.”

“Uh-huh, why don’t you continue meditating and let me just enjoy the view Zoro?” “

“And let you have all the fun?”

He was standing in front of her now, nearly eye level with her knees as the rock were she’s perched at gave her height advantage over the tall swordsman.

Zoro brought his head down and planted a kiss on her right knee. She shivered at the feeling of his warm lips against her skin.

“Heads up Nami,” he suddenly flicked something at her. She managed to catch it with both hands despite her surprise. It glinted under the moonlight and curious, she held it between her thumb and forefinger, lifting it high enough to scrutinize it.

There was no mistaking it. It was…

“GOLD?!” She gasped in disbelief. She stared at Zoro then at the item in her hand and back again. “A gold coin? Where did you get this Zoro?”

The green-haired lad’s mouth twitched at that. “Come here and I will show you.” He beckoned to her to join him for a midnight dip.

She raised an eyebrow at him.

Zoro pointed a finger downwards. “There’s gold at the bottom of this pool Nami,” he grinned playfully. “Still not up for skinny dipping?”

“Zoro you ass!” She hissed at him. “I can’t believe you! That’s just manipulative!” He’s now using her one weakness to get her to swim naked with him?

“I learned from the best,” he said with a shrug, smiling wickedly.

She pursed her lips. It’s not like she hadn’t thought of taking a dip in this crystal clear pool when she first laid eyes upon it. It was her plan all along.

But Zoro had beaten her to it.

Her brown eyes narrowed at him as she stood up. She stepped down on a much lower rock than where she’s situated and started unbuttoning her shorts. Zoro was watching her attentively, the corner of his mouth turned up.

She pulled at her tank top; throwing it carelessly near his clothes, observing the change in his expression when it dawned onto him that she was not wearing anything underneath.

Nami stood stark naked in front of him… just like when she teasingly disrobed before him at the inn.

But unlike the previous night, Zoro did not bother looking away this time. He drew his lower lip between his teeth; staring at her unabashedly, his lone, gray eye trailing over her bare form.

She felt herself shiver at the intensity of his stare. She was used to men ogling at her, used to them gawking. She had used her happiness punch a lot of times that gawping men did not even faze her.

But it was different with Zoro…

She felt her knees wanting to buckle under his gaze.

And come to think of it, he was looking at her with the one eye he wasn’t able to lose during their two-year separation. She didn’t want to think what two would do to her.

Zoro made a come-hither motion with his finger and she found herself wading through the water to approach him. Her long, orange locks, floated on the water and brushed behind her back, tickling her as she moved closer to him.

The moment she was near, Zoro automatically wrapped his arms around her and captured her mouth in an almost hungry kiss.

And she returned the kiss with equal fervor, arms snaking around his neck. The sensation of his warm body and the cool pool water on her own felt wonderful.

She reluctantly pulled away and watched a triumphant leer appear on the Supernova’s face.

“So where is it?” She demanded suddenly.

Zoro looked offended. “You just can’t wait, can you?”

“No,” she said with a shake of her head and gave him a cheeky smile.

“Tch!”

But he relented and pulled her towards the deeper part of the pool.

Zoro brought his lips close to her ear.  “See something glinting down below?”

Nami looked down. The pool water was so transparent that even in the dark of the night with only the moon to serve as illumination, she can make out the bottom of it. She grabbed at his shoulder to stop herself from moving, waiting for the water around her to settle into a slower movement so she can peer and see what’s underneath.

Her eyes widened when it caught something shining on the pool bed. Then she saw another, then another.

Gold coins were scattered everywhere. Everywhere.

“Zoro!” Nami cried in exhilaration and he grimaced when her nails dug on his shoulder as her grip on him tightened. The joy on her face was undeniable.

“Go. Swim down there and see for yourself.”

She pushed away from him with a grin and dived down without another word. His eye followed her form. Her long orange hair was luminous underwater and her creamy, white skin seemed luminescent… a stark contrast to the colors surrounding her.

She swam languidly, taking her sweet time exploring. She picked up one gold coin, studying it meticulously. Her hair floated around her in soft waves, gracefully moving on the water, as he watched a smile form on her lips.

If he didn’t know any better, he would think he’s seeing a mermaid.

A mermaid turned human. He thought as he watched her long legs propel her upward to the surface. Just like in the stories Robin likes to narrate to the childish members of the crew.

But Nami… is so much more beautiful than the mermaids in Robin’s stories. More enthralling than the mermaids of Fishman Island combined.

When she resurfaced she was practically breathless but was still able to squeal from too much glee. She threw one arm around him, while the other showed him a handful of gold coins she’d gathered, her smile contagious that he can feel one forming at his lips.

“There are a lot down there. A LOT!” She gushed excitedly. “I can’t believe it. This trip is turning out to better and better and better.” She smacked her lips against his cheek. “Thanks for the tip swordsman!”

He wrapped his arms around her waist, melding their bodies together. “Anytime,” he whispered against her lips before kissing her fully.

Nami returned the kiss fervently but stopped when she recalled there was a handful of gold in her grasp. “Wait Zoro,” she breathed. “You’ll make me drop them.”

“So?”

“So?” She intoned. “If I drop them, it’s you who will be diving back there and getting me twice as much!”

He stifled a groan. “Hey, I was the one who told you about this place. Why do I get to dive for the coins too?”

Nami pulled an innocent face at him. “Didn’t I tell you your debt interest just increased earlier twice?”

“WHAT?!”

“For forcibly cutting off the treasure hunt and for carrying me like a pig.”

Zoro glared at her. Nope he takes it back. She’s not a mermaid. Up here in the surface she’s more of devil, a fiend, a witch.

An evil incarnate.

“By the way,” she began, moving away from him embrace. “You are here longer than I was. Why didn’t you dive down there to get some more gold coins for me?” She frowned at him.

Zoro snorted. “I have limitations with the favors.”

“Some boyfriend you are.” She puffed her cheeks in dismay. “I bet Sanji-kun would gladly dive for all that gold for me.” Nami said with an obviously fake pout, treading back to the boulder where she left her clothes.

If she thought Zoro will take her bait by mentioning the stupid cook, she was wrong. Instead he laughed as he followed her and said, “Good. You can order ero-cook to get it all for you tomorrow. I’m sure he’ll gladly drown himself for his Nami-san.”

“Hey don’t be mean!” Nami chastised him, trying to hold back her laughter. He had a point there though. She reached for her shorts and shoved the coins inside the pocket before turning around to face him. “And you? What will you be doing?”

“I’m coming with you to scour the ruins for treasures of course. I just had to make sure you had something to keep stupid swirly busy.”

Nami looked at him dumbfounded. She gotta hand it to him. That wasn’t such a bad idea.

Another whole day alone with him.

She felt his arms encircled her waist from behind and kissed one bare shoulder, letting his lips linger there. “Guess I have to rig the draw lots tomorrow.” She murmured, tilting her head a little.

Zoro chuckled. He pushed her long locks aside and started nipping at the part of her neck that she was offering to him. His hands freely roamed on her still wet body, igniting her want, stirring her need for him.

Nami moaned as his lips and hands sent delicious jolts of electricity running up and down her spine. And when his hand delved deeper, down towards that sweet spot between her legs, she closed her eyes…

“GOMU GOMU NO… CANNONBALL!!!”

The happy yell of their captain cut through the air, and jolted them out of their torrid embrace.

SPLASH!!!

“Luffy you idiot!” A voice obviously belonging to Usopp shouted. “You can’t SWIM!!!”

“YOU SHITTY GOMU!” Sanji bellowed. “Can you not sling-shot yourself everywhere?!”

Zoro and Nami stared at each other horrified. They simultaneously shifted their gazes towards where Luffy hit the water.

Good Kami! They are going to get caught. And their captain’s going to drown!

“Shit!” Zoro cursed, eye shifting back and forth to his captain and his navigator.

“Go! Go! Get Luffy!” Nami urged pushing him towards where their captain disappeared. She took the opportunity to escape undetected, thankful that she had half the mind to bring her Clima-tact with her.

She would get dressed later. Right now, she had to get away before someone sees her or worse, the other haki users of their crew sense her presence and realize she’s with the swordsman.

Using her Mirage Tempo to hide herself, she darted to where the tents are just as shouts of ‘I got the aho sencho’ and ‘Oh good, throw him back there and let’s leave him’ reverberated from the swimming hole. She was near the tents when she released the illusion, once she was sure no one was in sight.

That was close.

“Out for a night swim Nami?”

Robin was standing in front of the tent they’re sharing with a smile on her beautiful face. She had walked outside to check the commotion when Nami nearly ran into her.

Nami cringed and forced a smile. “Yeah kinda.”

The raven-haired beauty giggled, stepping aside the let her into the tent. She made no mention of the fact that Nami is outside, wearing next to nothing, with clothes bundled in her arms. “Did you ran into the boys? I heard them heading towards the swimming hole.”

“No, no.” Nami shook her head and entered the tent. “I high-tailed it out of there before they can see me.”

Robin chuckled. “Glad you didn’t run into trouble. I also saw Zoro heading there earlier. Did you see him?”

“Uh no. I didn’t see anyone there. Moron probably got himself lost.”

“Fufufufu… chances of that happening are quite high, oh dear. I was the one who told him there are gold coins in that pool. And he said he might go and check.”

“Really?”

Robin nodded. “Thought he would swim out there and get it for you.”

Nami laughed, poking her head out of the tent to look at Robin. “Now why would he do that? That guy won’t move unless you blackmail him to.”

A smile appeared on the archeologist’s lips at her statement. “True. But who knows? He might fancy doing a favor for you.” She tapped a finger on her cheek looking a bit too mischievous for Nami’s liking.

“Yeah, when pigs fly.”

Then suddenly Robin bent down a little to level her cool blue gaze with her brown ones.

“Why don’t you check his pants that you’re holding Nami? He might’ve placed some in the pockets.”