#tragedy of the garden of many flowers

[mangacapsaicin]

akihiro yamada’s tragedy of the garden of many flowers || 山田章博の『百花庭園の悲劇』

[bobbole]

Yamada Akihiro, Hyakka Teien No Higeki (Tragedy of the Garden of Many Flowers)

[blackwoodwinter]

Monstober/ Kinktoner Day 3 Naga

Naga god paying a visit to his only human follower, a pretty little human priestess and pumps her full with his cocks.

TW: Blashpemy is you squint, porn with very little plot, vaginal sex reader receiving, double penetration, oral male receiving, oral female receiving, priestess x naga God, worship of God during sex, biting

Working in a temple as its priestess had its benefits. Its own orchid to harvest and offerings for the gods. Cleaning the temple, burning the incense, listening theo the pleas and complaints of the villagers and praying to the gods as their envoys took up most of your duties. Overall it was an easy lifestyle for the lucky priest and priestess chosen to work in the temple. Most days your main focus was maintaining all the marble statues glistening and clean. An array of statues evenly spaced out in a circular space of the temple with a large sacred fire burning at the center. Each altar sparkled with candles, fruits, perfumes,and gifts related to the god that ruled over each domain.

The wild goddess Orchid that held domain over all of nature and wildlife. Blessing the land and its people with fruit and children.The unpredictable storm god Onyx that brought the rain, storms and winds. Or the promiscuous rabbit god Rosier who ruled the farms and orchards blessing the land with his fruits and hundreds of children. 

Many other statues to different gods filled the temple but one statue in particular caught your eye. Tucked away in the back of the temple the satire of the Naga god Nekan remains neglected, his temple and satire collecting dust with no offerings or incense. Nekan was the god of medicine, cunning, and sorrow and noble sacrifice. All his myths ended in tragedy for him, his lovers and followers  resulting in the villagers, priest and priestess avoiding him all together due to superstition that any follower of would be followed by misfortune. 

Still you began to clean his stature, polishing the marble until it gleamed, lighting incense to his name, placing bottles of perfume and fresh fruit for him daily. Fellow priestess warning you saying you would fall to some tragedy or that you wasted your time on a nearly forgotten god. 

Ignoring them, you persisted in your work finding a new satisfaction working and tending to Nakan temple. At first it brought you solace and pride being his only devout priestess, until it brought you a gift and later exquisite delight. First it was a bouquet’s of medicinal herbs and flowers left at your doorstep, window and bed. Then it is small medicinal jars and bottles with inscriptions in gold ink praising your work and thanking you for your devotion. Later it was the jewelry, cut gems in the shape of a snake head. Arm bagels cut to look like scaled snakes around your arms, necklace of metal and gem snakes wrapping around your throat. Soon your home was spilling with gifts, and you appreciated accepting them and cherishing each one. Soon your robes were glittering with metal serpents as your new found status of Naken only priestess brought you recognition. 

Congratulations flew as everyone was stunned at how your God spoiled you. It was coming from the gods to show their approval of devout priests and priestesses by gifting them things or on special and rare occasions visiting them in person.  And as murmurs from other priests said on rare occasions the gods would take their favorite humans to bed. Your gifts continue to pour in along with a new and final gift: the appearances of venomous beautiful snakes would appear in your house, in your garden, in your temple altar. Despite all that they remained as harmless as a kitten might be wrapping their iridescent bodies around your arms and legs, it was seldom seeing you without a snake wrapped nuzzling against you.

One priestess of Onyx, a friend of yours, joked that if you continued to serve the god he might gift himself to you. Rolling your eyes, you played off her banter, giggling at the idea of Naken enamored by you blushing at the thought of being his favorite. 

He loved to spoil you with gifts, so it would be long until he paid you a personal visit right? Faced flushed, you imagined meeting Naken in his temple or even in your bed, quickly thoughts of devotion turned to thoughts of desire. Perhaps he would take you to his bed and like the rumors told, perhaps he'd bury his cock in you and bless you with his seed. Catching your thoughts you shook your head in embarrassment and laughed with your friend at the sheer thought of it. Deciding to not keep thinking on the subject you immersed yourself with temple duties until night fell and it was just you left.

Realizing the time, you realized how lost in work you had become until you peeked outside and saw the darkness outside, stars and moon twinkling in the night sky. Pacing back into the temple you considerethe walk alone at night, but decided against it and chose to spend the night at the temple instead. There were small cots with beds for the occasional overnight stays or ceremonies that were left alone most of the year. Gathering your things you're headed to the temple beds but paused before the statue of Naken to say goodnight. Gazing at his statue you couldn't  help but to admire his stone features, the elegance of his lithe form, sharp serpent eyes, sculpted jaws and cheekbones that lead your eyes down to soft lips with peaking long sharp fangs.  His face was mostly humans as was his torso and arms but beneath his waist was the long tick coils of a snake. Even as a statue he was breathtakingly handsome. Blushing you imagine being visited by him, held by his arms, or coiled tightly in his tail. If you kissed him would his fangs scrape your lips, how would his forked tongue feel like, would his scales feel warm or cool paint your skin? Remembering your place you blushed ashamed at how you thought of the god you were meant to serve, to respect. Buzzing with conflicting thoughts instead you climb the altar steps, standing on your toes and leaning in to barely reach the stone lips of your god. Turning away red and flushed you scurried down the steps and quickly went away to hide in the bed of the temple and fell into a restless sleep. 

Tossing and turning you awoke to the sound and sensation of dozens of snakes slithering over your bed out the door into the main temple area. Puzzled, you watched them slither away, as if hypnotized you rose from bed and followed them to the center of the temple, the main fire lighting the surrounding stone columns and altars in warm orange glow in the darkness. They slithered in the direction of the statue pantheon. Eyes widening in realization could they be leading you to Naken? Was it an omen? Could he had listened to you thoughts and come down to see you? Not waiting for an answer from you followed  the snakes in the darkness they disappeared behind the statue of Naken, even more confused. Your eyes swept the empty temple until you saw the figure of a man looming in front of you from the  shadows. Gasping you stepped back afraid, as if sensing your fear he moved forward into the light of the fire illuminating his face. Bronze skin with rich deep blue scales speckled with glittering gold stood Naken. 

Stooping lower he hunched down to meet you at eye level, his tail coiling around you forming a circle around you. Lithe muscle moved under his scales in rippling succession as he wrapped himself closer to you. Looking up at him gleaming fangs peaked from under his lips enticing you to lean in closer. 

Senses returning to you only mere inches from him the realization finally crashed into you. ‘Naken! It was Naken and he was here in front of you!’. Stunned you dropped to your knees in reverence.

“My lord Naken forgives me I did not recognize, nor did I expect you to b;ess me with your presence. Please forgive my insolence.”

Chuckling he reached out lifting your face  with hand covered in blue scales. 

“There's nothing to forgive for I am truly the fortunate god to have such a beautiful and devout priestess all to me”His voice was slow and deep, speaking as if whispering. Listing your eyes were glued to his face and lips, a forked tongue flicking when he spoke. 

“ I wanted to reward my most devout follower,” Grazing his thumb over your lower lips you felt your lips part and face get warm leaning into his touch. “It's been ages since I heard someone sweetly pray to my name, or give me the sweetest of flowers and fruits. If it had not been for you I would have remained neglected and forgotten amongst my godly brethren.” Pulling you gently to stand he held your hands in his. “Tell me my most beloved priestess what gift can I offer you for your service to me”

“You.” The words slipped from your mouth before you could register what you had said. Shocked at your own boldness you smacked a hand over your mouth cursing your own recklessness. Naken’s eyes widen in surprise and amusement, a grin playing over his lips watching you fuss embarrassed. 

“Me? Well if it's you asking my beloved priestess then how can I say no.” Stunned, you looked back at Naken, ‘He had agreed, for me?’.  Stupefied in place you return to reality when you felt Naken swoop down and kiss you passionately on the lips. Naken long serpentine bodies coiling around your body in a strong embrace. Cool diamond scales bushing against the fabric of your tunic. 

Wrapping your arms around him, you felt him dip his head down, his forked tongue slithering out flickering to taste your lips before claiming you in a hungry kiss. A deep rumble came from his chest in satisfaction as he moaned into your lips. Lips parting you kissed him back, smiling against his lips as his fangs grazed softly against your lips and tongue.

Naken kissed you with demanding and searing passion, his forked tongue slithering deep into your mouth to taste every inch of you. His large hands boldly caress your sides and hips over the thin fabric of your tunic. Moaning at his touch his hands were cool against the fever under your skin. Pulling away from you lips Naken dipped his head back down trailing his mouth along your jaw down the length of your throat, fangs tickling your skin as he did leaving a trail of goosebumps, small bites and heated kisses. 

Removing a hand from his neck you grabbed his and guided it to the straps of your tunic. Instinctively he began to pull at them letting them fall loose on your back. The thin fabric of the tunic falling down your shoulder exposing your bare shoulder and breast. Chills running over your body you shuddered against him, as his hand glided up your sides, his thumb brushing over the soft underside of your breast. 

Licking the side of his face you trailed wet kisses along his jaw hungry with desire. Breathing hard against him your chest rose and fell pressed against him. Soft breast grazing his chest, slithering his tail under you he brought it up between your legs, spreading your legs wide to straddle the thickest part of his tail under you, wrapping a coil around your waist keeping you in place. 

As if bewitched by you, his gaze followed your parted lips moist lips. Leaning in he nipped gently at your bottom lip, his poison dripping into your mouth, A thick honey like substance heating your mouth and throat as you swallowed. Palming your breast he lifted his thumb to play and roll over your nipple, hardening them with arousal. Rubbing his thumb over your nipple he  pulled away to look at the perky nub of flesh under him. Without breaking eye contact he leaned down, mouth open and wet to take your sensitive nipple into his mouth. Hand resting on his shoulder you mewled as he rolled his forked tongue over your nipple. Sucking hard he opened his mouth to fit your breast, sucking lewdly. 

Arching back against his tail, your legs pushed aimlessly, forced apart by the girth of his tail. Moaning as his tongue flicked your nipple you leaned back and grind your pussy against his tail. His scales were rough and ribbed, a strange but pleasuring sensation rubbing against your pussy each time you grind your hips. Following your movement he began to rock against you, quickly his scales were covered with the slick of your arousal, as his mouth remained locked on your chest. 

Popping his mouth from your breast, you nipple was left wet under the cool night air.

“Do you like that my beloved?” He asked in a husky tone, his tail moving in a fasting pace, ribbed scales sweetly rubbing the sensitive nub of your clitoris with each thrust. “Do you like that? Or would you prefer me to be different?”

Gasping you held onto his shoulders, your hips quicken their paces, hips snapping back and forth against the growing bulge in his scales. 

“No, it feels good like this my lord” Throwing your head back, your breath labored as each push against his scales made you pussy gush down,  completely coating the bulge underneath you. Hissing gently beneath you Naken gripped your hips pulling you down with each grind forcing you city to drag helpless against each rigid scale. Each jolt makes your toes curl with an incoming orgasm. Panting against him you squeaked in surprise feeling his hand slide down to your drench pussy rubbing perfect circles over you clit. Desperate you pushed against his hand.

“Please my lord, please you feel you good i want to cum.” Grinning he softly pinched your clit rolling it back and forth from his index with relentless speeds. Moaning in ecstasy, your body shook as the hot waves of ecstasy sent your body shuddering with a frenzy of delight.

Chuckling against your neck Naken “Anything for you my beloved priestess” Relaxing into a painting slump, Naken wrapped himself around you laying down on his coiled up tail. Dipping down he laid you down pulling away at the rest of your fallen tunic until you laid glistening with sweat on top of his tail. Shyly you brough your knees up in a futile effort to cover yourself under his burning gaze. Flicking his tongue he placed a hand on each of your knees before frying them open revealing a glistening cunt with a swollen clit like a pearl in the low light.

The rumbling from his chest returned as he moaned, taking in the sight of you, wet and naked on top of his tail.

“Oh my, aren't you just a vision of ecstasy.” Dipping his head down between your legs he nuzzled his nose, suckling on the soft skin between your thighs groaning as he licked the trails of slick running up to your cunt. Flicking his tongue against your pussy lips, he looked up between your thighs “You would do me an honor, to let me feast upon suck soft lips and drink from your nectars.” Flicking his tongue again, Naken nuzzled his nose against your clit. 

“Please my lord,” You begged and before you could finish he plunged his face between your legs, mouth screeching to suck on your entire pussy as his forked tongue slithered up and down the entrance teasing it  with small thrust. Pushing your cunt against him you dug your hand into his hair pushing his down squishing his nose against the wet lips of your cunt. Kissing wide sloppy kisses his mouth found you clit suckking harshly popping my mouth on and off again blowing small puffs of air onto your clit leaving your legs shivering, your stomach spasm with new euphoric waves of pleasure as he lapped up the juices of your cunt. Sloppily he thrust his tongue from side to side in a wet mess dripping your cum all over his face and neck. Mewling you pushed his head further until Naken thrust his tongue deep into your squeezing cunt swirling it inside making you yell.

“Naken!”

“Come my sweet priestess, cum in my mouth let me taste how much your adore me”He spoke muffled, and as if commanding your body you felt the second orgasm rip through your core leaving you spasming on his tail, legs clamping around his head with his tongue cervix deep.

“Yes my lord, my god…” Your words left you breathlessly as you slowly rode the high off, gradually relaxing your legs to open. Breathless Naken rose smiling, licking his lips. His face was covered slick with your pussy juices, droplets falling from his chin. Sighing he rose from beneath you, his tail wrapping around you to put you in a sitting position facing him. Steadily he rose above you, his chiseled chest rising with deep breathes scales of blue and speckled gold becoming thicker until they covered his waist and all of his tail. Your eyes trailed down his waist and widened as you saw the growing bulge on his scaled crotch leak cum as two thick wet cocks slithered out. Agasp you stared astonished at not one but two thick slick dripping fat cocks hanging from his tail. Each cock had a bright pink tip that looked unlike anything you've ever seen on a human man. You felt your mouth drool as they hung heavy from his crotch. Noticing your drool face Naken moved closer until his cocks hung over your face. Reaching up you wrapped your hand over one, looking up at Naken with innocent doe eyes.

“My beloved little priestess look how riled you have made me,” Sliding your tongue under the length of his cock Naken hissed in pleasure clenching his eyes shut, cocks twitching in your hand. “Worship me, priestess, worship me with that pretty little mouth of yours, worship my cocks” He hissed as he spoke brows furrowed in restraint.

Sliding your lips across one cock while your hands wrapped around the other, “Yes my lord.” Wrapping your lips around the head of his cock your tongue swirled over the head licking up at the tick drops of cum swirling it in your mouth. Bobbing your head lower you swallowed up more of his cock dragging your tongue in across the length. Hands moved at the base of his second cock in a milking motion, while your other hand swirled over the tip, thumb massaging the tip smearing his cum across it. Greedily you swallowed Naken’s cock more and more until his entire wet length fit into mouth making your throat bulge. Rolling his eyes back Naken breathed out praises pushing your head down until your nose pushed against the slit where his cock emerged. Groaning Naken’s labored breathing grew heavier as you swallowed his cock with new enthusiasm, gagging wet sounds filling the temple. Cum and drool dripping down your hands and mouth as you jerked and sucked him off. Pulling away you switched cocks, swallowing the next cock and jerking off the one coated in your saliva. Cursing Naken jerked his hips into your mouth, a soft whine as he felt you make out with the head of his cock, your hot tongue swirling over the tips up and down. Smiling up as you see your god struggle to contain himself you open your mouth tongue out as you fit both tips, frotting them together in a sloppy sucking kiss, swallowing both at the same time. Lurching forward he curled over you pushing your head as his cock erupted with cum. Panting he floods your throat with hot stick thick cum making you gag, eyes brimming with tears as you struggle to swallow the streams of cum flowing out of him. Pulling back, his cock slid out of your mouth with trails  of saliva and cum flowing out into your chin and neck and chest. 

Smiling your lips savored the salty, almost creamy flavor of his cum. Breathing heavy Naken lowered himself, his eyes meeting yours, his pupils completely dilated in lust and desire.  Wrapping his arms around you he pulled you into a passionate demanding kiss. Both your lips wet from the other's cum, mixing each other's taste as shoved his tongue into your mouth. Greedily sucking on his forked tongue earning a guttural groan from him. Lifting you up he pulled you over his tail, cocks slipping and pressing against the opening of your gaping pussy.

“Say I'm your god. Say i'm your only god and i'll be yours.’’ Naken breathed into your ear as he frotted his cocks against you, “Say it my beloved, say your mine, say you want my cock inside you.”

Druck with the taste of his cum and lust panting against his ear, “You're my only god Naken. Im am your priestess, I'm your priestess Naken.”

“Say the rest of it.”

“I want you inside me, I want to have your fat cocks inside me.”

Hissing he gripped your hips pulling you down, the fat wet tip of one cock pressing against your entrance until it finally stretched it out forcing your cunt to swallow it. Crying out his name your nails crawled into his arms as he pushed you down forcing his cock down to the base. His other cock hanged limply smacking wet and hot against your ass, as Naken began to bounce you on his cock. Crying out you saw his cock slide in and out of you as his tail wrapped around your waist forcing you up and down at his pacing, Crying out in a drunken heat your eyes brimmed with tears as each thrust smacked the sweet spot in your cervix. Quickening the pace Naked moved with more animalist craze, drilling into your pussy, second cock smacking against your ass. 

Pulling you off his cock with his tail he held you in the air for a moment, sighing in relief  your crying seized for a second before being brought back down again. Kissing you Naken panted against your lips. “Im sorry my beloved but i need you to take all of me”

Before you could process his words you felt both his cocks lined up against your clenching pussy before being pushed down legs held apart wide by his tail. Gasping as the sensation of being stretched by two cocks spreading your pussy, stretching it wide ripping a new orgasm as he pushed into you with two cocks. Thrashing your hips your overstimulated pussy creamed over his cocks lubing them up making them slip in easier, struggling in vain his tail tightened around your waist and legs locking you in place as Naken shoved both cocks pistoning them in and out. Breast bouncing with each thurst you could only lean back and scream his name as he fucks you with his two cocks.

Eyes rolling back, droll falling from your mouth you can only cry his name as the wet sounds of his cocks pumping your pussy fill the temple.

By the gods you think, if the other priest and priest could see you now getting stretched and pumped with the fat cocks of your god. Oh they would call me a lucky temple whore.

Naken’s hands slid down to hold your back sliding down to squeeze you ass each hand cupping a cheek as he held them apart spreading you wider, slamming both cocks deeper. Nuzzling into the crook of your neck he whispers praises.

“My beloved little priestess, you take me so well. You were made to be fucked by me, to worships me, to worship my cocks.” Laving his forked tongue he licked at the sweat of your neck. “I'll reward you greatly my beloved priestess, I'll pump you full of my cocks and seed, I'll spoil you as long as you worship me. Say my name, priestess, say you worship me.”

Drooling you barely mumbled out, “I worship you Naken, I only worship you and your fat cocks.” Hearing your words he drove forward increasing his force and speed, filling you completely with each pump. His cock popping out with wet sounds from your abused cunt with each thrust. Crying out his name you begged him to finish. “Please Naken it’s too much, please im cumming again.”

Laughing he pressed a kiss against your forehead, “Don't worry my beloved I'm just about to cum too.”

Snarling his thrusting became erratic and fast sloppily slamming into your swollen cunt gushing juices. Sinking his fangs into your shoulder, his fangs injected you with a relaxing aphrodisiac marking you as his. A final brutal thrust and his cocks pumped you full of sperms until your cunt was overflowing and leaking even with both cocks plugging your cunt. Attacked by his cocks and fangs you felt your walls spasm as you came a final time around his two cocks. Burying his cocks hilt deep he holds your waist as his cocks pumps ropes of hot cum into your cervix. The sounds of squelching and labored breaths being the only sound in the temple. The venom of his fangs warmed your body, flooding it with a relaxing warmth that soothes your aching muscles and abused cunt.

Sighing content he released you from the grasp of his tail, letting you slump forward on his chest. Gasping in relief you raised your hips to let his cocks slip out in a gushing wet mess of cum that flooded out your pussy into his tail. Chuckling Naken looked at the mess made and nuzzled into your hair letting out a content huff. “Rest my beloved priestess. You served me well and for that ill you now. Rest I'll clean up this mess.” 

Smiling you look up at him with hazing exhausted eyes, kissing him once more before drifting into black blissful sleep. In the morning when you woke, you arose and startled and scared thinking you would be laying naked leaking cum on the temple floor but found yourself dressed and clean in the temple cot you had originally chosen to sleep in. Confused, you rose from bed thinking it might have been a dream, until the sweet soreness between your legs told you otherwise. Walking to the mirror in your room you saw the two puncture holes of Naken’s fangs from last night. Smiling you draped over a shawl and started to head out until you saw a small neatly folded note in your bed that read.

My beloved priestess,

You have brought me back from the abyss of the lost, you have made me feel alive again. Thanks to you, I now remember what it's like to be a god. Rest my beloved priestess, I'll be counting the days until I can drink from you nectar and bury myself in you again. Until then take care i'll be watching over you.

Love,

Your own personal god, Naken.

He was the god Naken. Your God, yours now

.

.

.

Authors notes: Sorry for the late post I sprained my wrist on the third day of October and couldn't type without my wrist hurting or popping. Anyways please comment what y'all's liked, any unhinged comments, or any suggestions.

Also I did hint at other monster gods so lmk if you guys would like to know more about them.

[kybercrystals94]

Taking Up the Mantle

Read here on Ao3

Whumptober 2024 - Day 5 - Alternative Prompt: Forgotten

Rated: G | Words: 1939

Omega embraces him the moment Echo steps off his ship, her chin now able to hook over his shoulder without him bending down at all. “Welcome home, brother,” she says warmly. 

“It’s good to be home,” he says, pulling back, but keeping his hand on her arm. “You’ve grown a bit.” 

Omega grins and shrugs. “A bit,” she agrees. 

“Where are the boys?” Echo asks, noticing their absence from the landing platform.

“Supply run,” Omega says, “but they should be back later tonight or tomorrow morning.” 

They start walking toward the house, Omega linking her arm through Echo’s. 

“The supply run was a three man job?” Echo asks with a chuckle. 

Omega bumps against him playfully. “They get stir-crazy once in a while, so they all make an excuse to go. Sometimes I go with them, and sometimes I get the house to myself.” 

Echo laughs at that. “Well, we’ll get some time to catch up then.” 

“About that…” Omega says, the lightness of her voice vanishing. “I found something you need to see.” 

Echo stops walking, pulling Omega to a stop. “What is it?” 

Omega tries to smile reassuringly. “It’s nothing to be worried about, I promise. I just found something that I think…well, I hope…it will give you some closure.”

The assurance does nothing to ease the tension twisting like a knot in Echo’s chest. In fact, it feels substantially worse somehow. What in the galaxy could Omega know that would give Echo closure. Closure for what? He’d made peace with many tragedies in his life. It had become second nature, to bury and move on. A soldier couldn’t linger in what-ifs, not if they wanted to honor those who had gone before them or save those who would follow. 

“I’ll tell you everything when we get to the house,” Omega promises, dark eyes sorrowful and kind. Wise beyond her young years. But she isn’t so young anymore, Echo remembers, and she has lived longer than any of them, really. 

“Alright,” Echo relents and smiles if only to sooth the concern creasing Omega’s brow as she watches him. 

The rest of the walk to the house is Omega updating Echo on the island and its inhabitants they have come to know as good friends. The Batch have adapted well to domesticated life overall, if their domicile, as Tech would have called it, is anything to go by. A raised bed garden carefully tended, island flowers tamed and climbing the lattice. They are proud of their new life, and it shows. They’ve earned it, and Echo is happy his brothers have found peace. They call it his home too, even if he spends most of his time away. The chaotic brothers who took him in so long ago still keep him grounded like an anchor. 

“I’ll make us some tea,” Omega says the moment they are through the front door. Echo can’t help but smile at that, even with the apprehension looming. Omega is more like him in that way, enjoying a mild cup of tea over the pungent boldness of caf. 

“Sounds great,” he says, shedding his outer jacket and putting it on his hook in the entryway. 

He takes his pack to the room he shares with Hunter when he visits, dropping it on his bed and digging through it until he finds the trinket he’d found for Omega. It is a piece of wire twisted to look like a tooka. He wonders now if she’ll think it’s childish; however, on his way back to the main room, he passes by Omega’s open bedroom door and sees Lula perched proudly on her bed, the worn stuffed animal more faded than it was when he first met Wrecker’s beloved toy. 

He hears Omega clattering around in the kitchen, her voice speaking softly to someone. He goes in and finds the droid, AZI, hovering underfoot, Omega moving around him effortlessly. 

“Echo!” AZI cries when he sees him. “Omega has been upgrading my systems.” 

“That so?” Echo asks conversationally, sitting down at the table where Omega has already put his favorite mug full of hot water. He can smell the aroma of his favorite tea steeping inside. 

“Indeed!” crows AZI, whirring over to his side. “She has found several glitches, as well as lapses in my memory banks.” 

“AZI,” Omega cuts the little droid off, her tone a warning, “We’ll get to that in a minute.” 

Echo tries to ignore the knot continuing to tighten in his chest. 

Omega slides into the chair across from Echo. She takes a deep breath and begins, “Months before the end of the Clone Wars, Nala Se was gone for several days. Usually, she’d leave AZI with me, but not this time. She told me that he had been tampered with by a trooper and had to be repaired. When I tried to ask more questions, Nala Se got angry with me and told me to leave the matter alone. It was not for me to worry about.” 

Echo frowns, unsure what any of this had to do with him. It will give you some closure.

“When AZI finally returned to the lab, he had no memory of anything that had happened. His memory banks had been wiped, and at the time, I didn’t know how to retrieve lost data. Although, it was more curiosity that made me try than fear of what happened. After all, I trusted Nala Se. If she said I didn’t need to know, then I didn’t.

“I forgot all about the incident, and in light of everything that happened after the war ended, it seemed unimportant.” Omega picks up a data pad that had been left on the table. “Then, a few days ago, AZI was experiencing glitches in his internal systems. I programmed a software update, and went through his data files to find any broken links in his code. That’s when I found this. The file was so small, and had been removed from his main memory banks, so I decided to translate it.” She slides the data pad across the table. 

Echo picks it up, the screen a series of ones and zeroes. Binary. 

01001001 01001101 01010000 01001111 01010010 01010100 01000001 01001110 01010100 00111010 00100000 01101000 01101001 01110011 00100000 01101110 01100001 01101101 01100101 00100000 01101001 01110011 00100000 01000110 01101001 01110110 01100101 01110011 00101110 00100000

His grip on the data pad goes slack and it clatters to the table, nearly landing on his mug. 

Echo can read binary as well as he can read Basic. The Techno Union made sure of that. IMPORTANT: His name is Fives.

Omega flinches. “Are you okay?” she asks softly. 

Echo’s mouth feels dry, his throat tight. He tries to regain his composure, but his voice is thick when he asks, “What does it mean? Why did he have this?” 

It is AZI that answers him. “It was important that I remembered his name. He told me that clones do not use numbers anymore. He was my friend.” 

“How did you know him?” Echo asks. “You were on Kamino…”

“ARC Trooper Fives was brought to Kamino for medical observation,” AZI says. His eyes flicker, and he doesn’t say anymore. 

“I recovered as much of the wiped data from those dates as I could,” Omega says. “It seems AZI was able to hide some memory files in his core programming before the wipe.” 

“That is against protocol,” AZI adds, “But Fives was excellent at not following protocol when it was important to do so. I followed his example.” 

Omega smiles. “I found some footage that AZI recorded. There isn’t much, but I thought you would want to see it.” 

Echo nods. He feels numb. Maybe it’s the shock of realizing he’s been so close to this data all along, the files hidden so deep, but he could have found them if he’d looked. But he never thought to, never tried…Fives was so close all along.

AZI backs away from the table, and a holo projector opens in his chest. A recording begins to project, AZI’s perspective following an obviously agitated Fives around a medical room. 

“...a case like this, it is the logical course of action,” AZI is saying. 

“No,” Fives says, turning to face AZI, anger clear on his face even through the distorted blue lines of the projection, “No. We were not created to be disposed of this way.”

“Perhaps you were,” AZI counters calmly. 

Fives whirls around, slamming his fists down on the hard surface of a medical cot. Echo hears his brother’s breathing shudder. An ache in his heart pangs at the sound. 

AZI’s voice continues, “CT-5385 will be terminated so that others like him could survive.”

Fives turns on the droid. “There aren’t others like him!” he shouts, the audio crackling at the input. “Tup doesn’t have to die. You found a tumor. I’m sure that’s the cause of all this. It’s the only thing that makes sense.” 

The recording sputters and flickers away to nothing. 

“That was the only visual footage I could recover myself,” Omega says softly, “but I found some transcripts. AZI helped Fives remove his inhibitor chip, and they discovered that all clones had them implanted at gestation. He was going to present the evidence that AZI helped him find. He was trying to save our brothers.” 

“But he was killed instead,” Echo says bitterly, fingers curling into a fist. “Rex told me what happened when he got to Coruscant.” 

Omega reaches across the table and rests a hand over Echo’s. “It is because of Fives that Rex found out about the chips, because of Fives that Rex warned us about the effects.” 

Echo can’t lift his gaze to meet his sister’s. The burning sensation prickling his eyes threatens to spill tears should he see the look of earnest empathy on her face. 

When he doesn’t answer, Omega continues, “You’re finishing what Fives started, Echo. You’re helping our brothers. You helped us. I’m sorry I never met Fives, because he sounds like he would have fit right in with Clone Force 99.” 

Echo swallows. 

“And he would have been so proud of you, Echo.” 

A tear slips through the barrier, and Echo pulls his hand from Omega’s to rub it away, trying to erase its track from his face. 

AZI draws closer again. “I have analyzed the data of my friend, ARC Trooper Fives, and I must agree with Omega.” 

“Thank you,” Echo forces out. “Both of you.”

Omega picks up the data pad and opens a file before handing it back. “These are the transcripts I was able to recover.” 

Echo  takes it, finding that the data has already been translated from binary into Basic. Words jump out at him, words his brother said, words his brother said leading up to his death…

“AZI and I are going to the market to pick up dinner,” Omega says suddenly, standing and putting her mug in the sink. As she walks past him, she clasps his shoulder briefly, a familiar gesture he’s received a thousand times from brothers all his life. “We’ll let you get settled.” 

And Echo realizes that the Batch being away on a supply run isn’t just happenstance. 

He reads through the transcripts slowly, absorbing his brother’s words, his determination to do the right thing no matter the consequences. Fives was the same and grown, and Echo was just months from being able to see him again. 

Omega is right. Fives would have loved the Batch, and he would be proud of Echo too. 

But not nearly as proud as Echo is of him. 

Not by a lightyear. 

Let me know if you'd like to be added to my tag list!

Tag List: @followthepurrgil @amorfista @mooncommlink @arctrooper69 @groguandthebadbatch @proteatook @ezras-left-thumb @maeashryver @baddest-batchers @laughhardrunfastbekindsblog @omegafett99 @heidnspeak @fionas-frenzy @dreamsight73 @royallykt

[wholoveseggs]

Crimson Frost {Part One}

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List}

Part One

You are to be wed to Niklaus of the Mikaelson clan, but when tragedy strikes and blood is shed in the snowy night, the true strength of family bonds and the power of love are put to the ultimate test.

♡♡ I'm back with another series, one I've wanted to write for a long time. This series explores the lives of the Mikaelsons as ordinary individuals in the Viking era, told from the reader's perspective but also Niklaus's. ♡♡

6k words - Warnings: Viking AU where the Mikaelsons are completely human (no magic, werewolves, vampires... etc) lots of death and violence, sprinkle of norse mythology... no smut in this part, {Spoiler: it will be eventually reader x Elijah}

{Part Two} {Part Three} {Part Four} {Part Five}

"Gerda! Come help me with these flowers," you yelled from the back garden. You were gathering the best wildflowers you could find to make a wreath to wear for the feast that evening. It was still winter, but it had been mild for almost a whole moon, bringing the wildflowers early.

"Coming systir!" she replied. Gerda came out into the garden a few moments later, carrying a basket full of wildflowers and a smile on her face. "These will look so lovely in your hair tonight," she said holding up a bunch of lavender. "I'm sure Niklaus will be so happy to see you."

You blushed slightly at her words. Niklaus.

Your mother had told you that the feast tonight was to announce your marriage to the young Mikaelson. Your family was thrilled, having you marry one of the sons of the Karl increased your family's standing among the clan. However, you were still nervous. You had grown up with Niklaus, he was kind and had a sweet smile, but he was also quite wild and battle hungry. He had just returned from his first raiding voyage to the coast of the English lands, and the stories of his bravery were spreading.

“I'm sure he will, but he is not my betrothed yet," you said as you put some more flowers in your basket.

"That does not mean that he will not be soon, and you will have to kiss him eventually," Gerda replied.

"Gerda!" You threw a bunch of flowers at her. "Do not be so improper."

"Sorry systir," Gerda said laughing. "It's just exciting, you are getting married to a Mikaelson!"

"Let us hope that the gods smile on our union," you said, picking up your basket of flowers.

Gerda had only seen eleven summers yet she was eager to grow up, while you were less than eager. Your betrothal had been a long time coming and it was a good match for your family, but you didn't have the same excitement as your sister. You felt unprepared to be a wife.

You saw Niklaus coming over with his little brother Henrik and a small smile crossed your face.

You looked up at Niklaus. "Hello, Niklaus."

"My dear," Niklaus greeted, bowing his head. "You look beautiful as ever."

"Thank you," you replied.

Henrik stood beside his brother. "Nik, you promised we could spar today!"

"Henrik, patience," Niklaus said, placing a hand on his younger brother's shoulder. "How about you go with Gerda, she can watch while you practice."

"Come on Gerda, let's go," Henrik said excitedly, taking her hand and pulling her over to the field.

"Your brother seems enthusiastic," you remarked.

"It's what he was born to do," Niklaus said, watching his brother and your sister run off.

"They would make a good match, your Gerda and my Henrik," he suggested.

"Oh yes, Gerda is very fond of Henrik," you agreed. "But they are both so young, it's a bit too early to make a decision such as that."

"Of course, I would not wish to rush them," Niklaus said. "Besides, you are the one I'm here for today."

You looked away, a slight blush appearing on your cheeks. He was a true charmer and had seen many battles even at his young age, the ladies in the village loved him and were always fighting over his attention. But the truth was you didn't feel anything when you looked at him. There was no spark or tingle of love the way it was described in the fables, just a friendship that you wished would turn into something more.

But it was an honor for your family, to be marrying into such a noble household. And it wasn't like he was ugly, or cruel. He was a good man and would no doubt make a fine husband.

"I think it will be an early spring, with all of these flowers in bloom," Niklaus said, reaching down and picking a blue wildflower and handing it to you.

"I do too," you replied, smiling and putting the flower in your hair.

"Nik, I thought you were sparring with me!" Henrik yelled, trying to gain the attention of his older brother

"Very well!" He responded, giving you a wink before running after his little brother, he picked up Gerda and gave her a spin, making her laugh.

You laughed at the sight and watched the three of them. Niklaus, Henrik, and Gerda. Playing around and having fun, but soon the time would come for them to grow up, and you feared what that would bring.

The sound of laughter and music filled the longhouse, you were sitting on a bench between your mother and father, enjoying the feast.

Henrik and Gerda were dancing and playing near the fire, laughing and smiling. They had been inseparable all day, both excited about the wedding to come.

Your eyes found Niklaus, sitting on the other side of the longhouse, chatting with his older brothers, Finn and Elijah.

Your engagement was to be announced tonight, in front of the whole clan, but you had already heard the news. You were going to be Niklaus' wife, and the next lady of the Mikaelson clan.

But you would be lying if you said that the thought didn't fill you with dread. You didn't feel ready to be a wife.

You saw beautiful Rebekah, Niklaus's sister, dancing with her friends. Her long blonde hair in a thick braid with ribbons and flowers. She was laughing and having a good time, while you sat alone and tried to hide how nervous you were.

She came over and took your hand. "Come dance,”

You smiled and joined her, spinning and twirling around.

"I've heard the news, congratulations," she said. "My brother is a very lucky man."

"Thank you," you replied.

Rebekah pulled you in close. "Soon you will be with child and I'll have a little niece or nephew to dote on," she said, her hand moving down to touch your belly.

You laughed, a blush spreading across your cheeks. "Yes, that is my hope."

"Well, the sooner the better," Rebekah replied. "Nik is getting antsy."

"What do you mean?" You asked.

"There has been word that the Blackthorne clan has been moving in this direction," she said. "Nik's been preparing for a battle, he says he will not let them pass our borders."

"I see," you replied. The Blackthorne clan were known to be ruthless and merciless. Their leader, a man named Einar, was notorious for his brutal raids and pillaging. It had been said that he once slaughtered an entire village just because they refused to give him one of their daughters.

"My father doesn't think they will make a move, but Niklaus is worried," Rebekah said. She gave you a searching look, "He lusts for war and glory."

You frowned, looking at her. "What if he's right? What if they attack? What will happen to us?"

"Don't worry sweet girl, you are apart of my family now, and the Mikaelsons will protect you," Rebekah promised.

As the night went on you feasted and danced with the people of the village. There was food and drink for everyone, and the mood was jovial.

You saw your father sitting next to Mikael, they were deep in conversation and your father was nodding along with whatever the elder Mikaelson was saying.

Mikael suddenly stood, raising his mug and the room fell silent.

"Tonight, we celebrate the engagement of my son Niklaus to the daughter of Erik," Mikael announced, looking over at the two of you.

"To a bright future, may they have many sons to lead us into battle and may their union bring great fortune to both families."

The clan erupted into cheers, banging on the table and lifting their mugs.

"A toast, to Niklaus and his bride!" Mikael called.

Everyone raised their mugs, cheering for the couple. Niklaus approached you and wrapped his arms around you. “It seems the gods have finally smiled upon us," he whispered.

You nodded and smiled at him, trying not to let him see the uncertainty in your eyes. He kissed your cheek and danced with you, the feast continuing on.

As the night wore on, you sat by yourself, watching the dancing and laughter. Rebekah and her friends were talking, Henrik and Gerda were still spinning around, and Niklaus was deep in conversation with Elijah.

Your parents had left, they were a bit older and didn't stay up late like the others. You wanted to leave as well, but Gerda was having so much fun, you didn't want to cut her night short.

Kol came over, sitting down beside you. "You should be out there having fun, not sulking here all alone."

"I'm not sulking," you replied.

"Yes you are," Kol said, grabbing a piece of bread from the table and stuffing it in his mouth. The two of you had grown up together, and he always knew when something was wrong.

"Well, the whole marriage thing has been weighing heavily on my mind," you confessed.

"Oh, come on, Nik's a fine warrior," Kol remarked. "My brother has always been taken with you, he will make a good husband... I think," he teased.

You laughed a bit, pushing him gently. "I know, I know, but I just wish to wait a bit longer. It seems like this has all happened so quickly."

Kol put his arm around you. "You will come to love him, and even if you don't, I am sure the bedding will be enjoyable."

"Kol, stop it!" You giggled, shoving him away.

He grinned and took another piece of bread, "You go home and rest, I'll watch Gerda."

"Are you sure?" You asked.

"Positive," he said. "You are both family now, I will protect her as if she were my own blood."

"Thank you, Kol," you replied, giving him a kiss on the cheek. "I will see you tomorrow."

You made your way out of the longhouse and back towards your home, the cold night air filling your lungs, you breathed out a plume of heat into the chilly air, perhaps winter was not quite done yet. As you walked you thought about Niklaus, he had been so kind and thoughtful lately, he was a good man, you had no reason not to marry him.

You were pulled from your thoughts by the sound of rustling in the bushes, you paused and listened. It was probably just a fox or some other woodland creature, but something didn't feel right.

Suddenly, you were knocked to the ground, a man pinning you down.

"Don't scream," he hissed.

You struggled beneath him, trying to push him off. He smelled of mead and sweat, his face was covered in dirt, his teeth rotted and bloody.

He pressed a blade to your throat, you stopped moving and let out a gasp.

"Do not fight, and I won't hurt you," the man growled.

He had black hair and was wearing a thick fur cloak, his body pressed against yours as he held you down. He pulled at your dress, ripping the fabric and exposing your skin.

"No!" You cried, struggling against him.

He moved his hand up and grabbed your face, his fingers digging into your jaw.

"You are a pretty one, will fetch a good price," he said, running his hand down your body and touching you roughly.

You heard the sound of a horn blowing, signaling a raid. Panic coursed through you.

The Blackthornes had come.

The man was distracted momentarily by the sound and you took the opportunity to grab a rock and smash it against his head. He grunted and fell back, letting you go. You scrambled away and stood up, running to your home.

You heard the shouts of the villagers as they prepared for battle, the sounds of swords clashing and people dying.

As you ran, you saw a group of warriors, led by Einar Blackthorne, storming through the village, killing and setting everything on fire. By the time you got to your house, it was in flames.

Your parents were nowhere to be seen and your heart dropped. You picked up the wood axe sitting on a stump and broke down the door, the heat and smoke burning your lungs.

"Faðir!" You shouted, coughing and looking around. "Móðir!"

"Y/N," a voice called. You saw your mother, kneeling on the floor and holding her hands over her chest.

"Móðir!" You cried, rushing over to her. "What happened, are you alright?"

"Dóttir," she said, reaching out to you, her breathing was labored and her hands were covered in blood.

Your father lay next to her, a wound in his stomach and a pool of blood surrounding him.

"Faðir," you gasped, looking at his lifeless body.

"Gerda," your mother croaked, clutching at your dress. "Go get Gerda,"

"I will," you assured her. "But first I must get you out of here."

You tried to help her stand, but her breathing became ragged and her eyes fluttered closed.

"Móðir?" You said, shaking her.

She didn't respond and her head slumped forward, her body limp in your arms.

"Móðir!" You screamed, tears streaming down your cheeks.

The smoke grew thicker, and the fire was getting closer. The wood beams above cracking and falling.

You laid her down gently, the smoke stinging your eyes, the heat of the flames singeing your hair and burning your skin.

You stumbled through the flames, making your way out of the house, you coughed and sputtered, trying to breathe in the clean air. Your village was engulfed in chaos and flames, you could see the invaders killing and stealing, their cries echoing through the night.

"Gerda," you whispered, trying to catch your breath.

A figure appeared in the darkness, a man wielding a sword, his body covered in blood and his face masked by the smoke. He was wearing the Blackthorne colors of gray and red. You raised your axe and struck him down, the blade slicing through his neck. Rage and adrenaline coursed through you, the fury of Tyr fueling you as you continued on, searching for Gerda.

Your family, your clan, your home had been destroyed. Everything you loved was burning, but you were determined to find your baby sister.

Your ran back to the longhouse, it was in flames, the heat radiating off of the building.

"Gerda!" You screamed out for her, trying to find her in the chaos.

You could hear the sound of fighting and screams, the smell of burning wood and blood filled the air.

Suddenly, a man emerged from the smoke, the same one who tried to rape you earlier, you raised your axe again, ready to strike.

But the man grabbed the blade, stopping the swing mid-air and pulling it from your grasp. He smirked and grabbed you by the hair, throwing you to the ground. You looked up at the longhouse, the place where you had spent so many nights with the Mikaelson family, the place where Gerda and Henrik were.

"You will make a good prize," he growled, running his hands over your body.

"No!" You screamed, thrashing around and he laughed and pinned you down, his hands tearing at your dress.

You could hear the cries of the villagers as they fought for their lives, the screams of the children and the clash of steel.

A hand grabbed the back of your attacker's neck and he was ripped away from you, you gasped, scrambling back. You watched the men fight viciously, exchanging blows.

Your savior was wearing the Mikaelson colors of green and blue, and you realized it was Niklaus.

You stood and grabbed your axe, raising it and attacking other raiders as they tried to approach, giving Niklaus the advantage.

"Y/n! systir!" You heard the sound of your name being called and you looked up, seeing Gerda and Henrik being hauled off by the raiders.

"Gerda!" You shouted, running after them.

You couldn't reach them, another raider jumped in front of you, swinging his sword. You ducked and avoided his blow, swinging your axe and catching him in the side.

He fell to the ground and you kept running, chasing after the raiders and your sister. You ran as fast as you could, dodging the raiders who were trying to stop you. But it was no use, they caught you and dragged you back.

Snow was starting to fall, and you could feel the cold biting at your skin. Two raiders had you by the arms, dragging you along the cold ground, you knew it wouldn't be long before you saw Valhalla. They threw you onto the back of a horse, the cold metal of a knife pressed to your throat.

"Don't struggle or we'll throw you into the fire," the man behind you growled.

You kicked him hard, and he struck you across the face, but you didn't care. Your family was dead, your home was gone, and Gerda was being taken away.

Suddenly, the men on the horse yelled, and the knife was pulled from your throat. You looked up to see a figure in armor, holding a Mikaelson shield in one hand and a sword in the other.

He struck down the Raiders, their bodies falling to the ground. You were disoriented from the blow, unable to see who had come to your rescue.

The figure grabbed the reins of the horse, and the beast whinnied, bucking wildly. He pulled you against him, the metal of his armor cold against your skin.

"Shhhh," he whispered, trying to calm the horse.

You recognized the voice, it was Elijah, Niklaus’ elder brother.

"We have to get out of here, can you ride?" He asked.

You nodded and he handed you the reins. You could see the bodies of the raiders scattered around, and the sounds of the battle were beginning to fade. Snow and ash fell from the sky, and the scent of death hung in the air.

"Come on," Elijah said, pulling himself up behind you.

He wrapped his arm around you, taking the reins back. "I will take you somewhere safe," he promised.

"What about your family? They took Gerda and Henrik," you asked, tears stinging your eyes.

The horse took off, galloping through the woods and away from the destruction. You looked back, seeing the flames and smoke rising into the night sky, and you wondered if Gerda was still alive.

"I saw Niklaus going after them, we have to hope he can save them," Elijah replied.

You held onto the horse tightly, the wind and sleet whipping against your face. The snow falling heavier now, the trees bare and the branches covered in a layer of ice.

Elijah's voice cut through the cold, "I know a place we can shelter from this storm,"

The wind howled and the snow fell heavily, obscuring your vision. You could barely see a thing, but you trusted Elijah.

You didn't know how long you'd been riding, but eventually, Elijah stopped the horse and helped you down.

He brushed away some snow to reveal a small cabin built into a overhang of rock. He tied the horse to a post under the eaves of the structure and opened the door, motioning for you to enter.

"It's not much, but it will keep us warm," he said.

The cabin was made of logs and stones, and there was a fireplace in the center. You shivered, your body numb from the cold.

Elijah started a fire with some wood that was already stacked inside the cabin, and soon the room was filled with warmth and light.

You sat on a bench, the flames from the fireplace flickering, casting shadows on the walls. Elijah sat beside you, and you could see the exhaustion and sorrow in his eyes.

"What of the rest of your family? Your parents? Rebekah? Kol? Finn?" You asked.

Elijah let out a sigh, "my parents and Finn were killed, I lost Kol and Rebekah, I don't know where they are or if they're even alive,"

He turned to look at you, his dark eyes full of sadness. "What about your parents?"

You looked away, a lump forming in your throat. "Dead as well."

You tried to stop the tears, to be strong, but the thought of your mother and father, and all those people, gone, was too much to bear. You buried your face in your hands and sobbed, the grief washing over you like a tidal wave.

Elijah placed his cloak around you and got up to stoke the fire. He added more wood, and the flames crackled and popped.

He sat back down and you moved closer, resting your head on his shoulder, his arm wrapping around you. You were both tired and hurt, and you knew that this might be the last night you ever spent alive. You were both silent for a moment, the weight of the night's events heavy on your minds.

"I am sorry about your family," Elijah whispered.

"As I am sorry about yours," you replied, looking up at him.

This was the first time you ever really spoke to him, as children you were always running around with Kol and Rebekah. Elijah was the stern older brother, the one who was always scolding you for being reckless. But now, he seemed so different.

He placed his hand on your cheek, his thumb gently wiping away the tears that were rolling down your cheeks.

"We will find them, and send every single one of those Blackthornes straight to Hel,"

Niklaus was smiling as he feasted and celebrated his engagement. The scent of meat and ale mingled with the smell of pine and fire, the flickering candles casting a warm glow on the room.

He sat with his brother, Elijah, watching as the members of the clan drank and danced. The atmosphere was festive, and everyone seemed to be having a good time, Niklaus loved a good party, especially one that was about him.

"Isn't she a beauty, brother?" He remarked, watching you from across the table.

"She will be a fine wife for you," Elijah replied, sipping his mead.

"Do you think she will let me bed her before the wedding? I do wish to know what pleasures await me," he grinned.

"Niklaus," Elijah sighed, "You cannot speak of your betrothed in such a manner, have some respect."

"Relax brother, it is just the two of us," he shrugged.

"Still, a woman's virtue is not a subject to be jested about,"

"Oh come on, 'Lijah, I'm only joking. Even the gods would agree that the wedding cannot come soon enough." He said, taking a sip of his mead.

The men were sitting around the table, feasting and drinking. Niklaus watched his little brother Henrik playing with Gerda, they were dancing and spinning in circles.

"I'm surprised Kol is not joining in on the festivities," Niklaus said, nodding to where Kol was sitting alone at the end of the table.

"He's been moody lately," Elijah remarked. "His courting of the Blackthorne girl did not go well, he returned with an arrow in his thigh."

"He was lucky to come back at all," Niklaus muttered. "Father won't listen to reason when it comes to the Blackthornes."

"What would you have him do Niklaus? Wage a war we cannot win?" Elijah replied, his eyes flickering over to where you were talking to some of the women.

"This is how I see it. We either bring the fight to the Blackthornes or wait for them to bring the fight to us," Niklaus stated.

"You two talk of politics like wise old men," Finn piped up. "But you're nothing more than fools, unprepared for battle. The Blackthornes are a mighty clan, and if we were to attack, we would lose everything we've built here."

"When have you seen battle Finn? When you put your trousers on in the morning? Or when you wipe your ass?" Niklaus laughed, grinning at Finn maliciously.

Finn rolled his eyes and ignored the insult, "This is a peaceful village. The only bloodshed we've seen is at the hands of wolves and bears. Father is right to avoid conflict."

"I stopped listening after you said 'father is right', that means nothing to me," Niklaus remarked, downing his drink.

"Well, then I shall take my leave and continue this conversation with someone who actually has the capacity to understand it," Finn huffed, getting up from his seat.

Elijah shook his head, "He does have a point Niklaus. War is not something we can take lightly, the consequences could be dire."

Niklaus watched as Finn went over to you and offered his hand, no doubt asking you for a dance. He watched as you politely rejected Finn. He smiled to himself, you really were the perfect wife.

"We can't avoid the Blackthornes forever. Eventually, we will have to make a move," Niklaus stated.

"Not today, Niklaus, not tonight. Tonight is a night of celebration," Elijah said. "You cannot lust after war on the night of your engagement."

"Fine," Niklaus sighed. "We will discuss this tomorrow,"

"Very well," Elijah agreed.

"I'll hold you to that," Niklaus said, downing the rest of his mead, he watched as you danced with Rebekah, he loved the way you smiled and laughed.

He felt a sense of peace and happiness, knowing that soon, you would be his wife. He looked to his father, who raised his mug and toasted to the union, a gesture that surprised Niklaus, but also put him at ease.

The music began to play, and the men started dancing with their wives. He came over to you, and told you how the gods were smiling down at your union. You looked so beautiful, and he could barely take his eyes off of you.

He danced with you for a while, before Elijah approached and asked for a private word. The brothers found a quiet corner, away from the crowds and music.

"What is it?" He asked.

"I've gotten word from a scout that the Blackthornes are near. Their numbers are great, and they are preparing to attack," Elijah informed him.

"When will they be here?" Niklaus asked, his mind already racing with possible scenarios and outcomes.

"On the morrow, if the scouts are correct," Elijah replied, his voice tense.

"Then we must prepare. I'll rally the men, and we'll set a trap. We'll lead the Blackthornes into the woods, and ambush them," Niklaus said, his eyes flashing with excitement.

"Father has it well in hand, enjoy the celebrations Niklaus," Elijah said. "And be careful not to drink too much, I will need your help in the morning."

Niklaus nodded, but couldn't shake the uneasy feeling that had settled in the pit of his stomach. He glanced over to where you were sitting, chatting and laughing with Kol. You were so happy and carefree, and he wanted to protect that, even if it meant risking his life.

Niklaus spent the rest of the evening drinking and dancing, trying to push aside his worries. You left not long after, and he went to follow, but Kol stopped him, "Let her be Niklaus. She's tired, and I'm sure she has a lot on her mind."

He begrudgingly agreed and stayed, dancing with Henrik on his shoulders as Gerda did on Kol's. It was late, and he could feel the effects of the mead and ale taking hold.

"Off to bed now little Henrik. I'll walk you home sweet Gerda," Kol said softly, setting her down and kissing her cheek.

Suddenly the sound of a horn rang through the night air, and they froze, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end.

"To arms!" Mikael shouted, his voice echoing through the longhouse.

The room erupted into chaos, the men rushing to grab their weapons and armor. Niklaus laughed, rushing to grab his sword, "So much for a peaceful night!"

He grabbed his shield and rushed outside, joining the fray of battle.

The smell of blood and sweat filled his nostrils as he swung his sword, cutting down raider after raider. Glory and honor filled his heart as he fought, but the thought of you was never far from his mind.

He had promised you that he would keep you safe, and he intended to keep that promise. Your father was old and you had no brothers to defend you, tonight it was his duty. He headed towards your home, but stopped at the sound of his sister screaming, he turned to see Finn swinging wildly at Einar Blackthorne.

His eldest brother was standing in front of Rebekah, she was holding a sword with shaking hands.

"Finn, don't!" Rebekah pleaded, watching him try to fight Einar, but it was an uneven match, Einar struck Finn across the torso with his axe and he crumpled to the ground.

Rebekah fell to her knees at his side, "No! Finn, no!" She cried, clutching to his body.

Einar grabbed Rebekah by the hair and dragged her away.

Niklaus roared and chased after them, but was cut off by a group of raiders, and he slashed and hacked his way through them, searching for where his sister had been taken in the chaos.

Kol was fighting nearby, the young warrior was up against a beast of a man, he stabbed Kol in the arm and he collapsed to the ground.

He heard the sounds of Kol's screams, the boy was fighting for his life. The sight of Kol, bloody and beaten, snapped something inside Niklaus.

He ran towards the man who had stabbed his brother, his eyes full of rage and fury. The man was large and strong, but Niklaus was faster, he plunged his sword into the man's chest and twisted, watching as the life drained from his eyes.

Niklaus could almost hear the drum beats of war, as though the gates of Valhalla had opened, and his ancestors were cheering him on.

The scent of blood and death was thick in the air, and the sounds of clashing metal and screams filled the night. The ground was covered in the bodies of the dead and wounded, and the snow was stained crimson.

He pulled Kol to his feet, and saw Elijah fighting off a group of raiders, his movements a blur as he sliced and cut.

"I can't find Rebekah, they've taken her!" Niklaus cried out.

"We will find her, brother. I promise," Elijah replied, his gaze fierce and determined.

Niklaus could see the fires from the longhouse, the smoke rising into the sky. His family's home was burning, and the village was being pillaged and raided.

Elijah pulled his younger brothers into an embrace, his hands on their shoulders, "our father and mother have been stuck down, I could not save them,"

"Finn?" Kol asked, his eyes darting around, looking for the eldest brother.

"Gone," Niklaus replied.

The three brothers looked at each other, the weight of their losses settling over them. Elijah pulled his younger brothers into an embrace, their foreheads touching.

"I will find Rebekah, I promise. Niklaus, find Y/N, get her to safety," Elijah instructed.

"But brother-" Niklaus began.

"Now!" Elijah roared.

Niklaus and Kol exchanged a glance and nodded, and Elijah took off in one direction.

Niklaus and Kol began to search the village, but all they found were the bodies of their people, dead and dying.

The sound of your screams caught Niklaus' attention, and he rushed towards the noise, Kol close behind.

They found you, being held by a raider, he was ripping at your clothes, and you were fighting him with all your might.

Kol saw Rebekah being loaded onto a cart and he rushed after it.

Niklaus' vision turned red, and he charged at the raider, pulling him off of you and tackling him to the ground. His blood was boiling, and he couldn't stop his rage.

He slammed his fist into the raider's face, again and again. The sound of bones crunching and the taste of blood filled his senses. He attacked him like a rabid beast and he watched you get to your feet and lunge at another raider, cutting him down with just a wood axe. He smiled and laughed at the sight, the goddess Freja possessed you, beautiful and deadly.

He heard the sounds of Gerda's screams and watched you chase after her. He went to follow but was knocked over by a blow to the head.

He rolled over, the world spinning around him. He tried to stand, but he stumbled and his vision blurred. It was like everything was moving in slow motion, and silence fell.

He saw you being dragged away, kicking and screaming. He saw Kol, fighting a few paces away, his movements becoming slower and sloppier as his wounds took their toll. But he had saved Rebekah, she was helping him stay upright, the two of them fighting back to back.

He saw a raider raise his axe to strike Kol, and he saw Rebekah push him out of the way. Blood burst from her face as the blade made contact. She fell to the ground, clutching her head.

It was as if Thor himself had struck him with lightning, he forced himself to stand, roaring with pure rage. He grabbed a spear from the ground. He hurled it, watching as it impaled the raider, a look of surprise and pain on his face as he fell to the ground, dead.

Niklaus rushed towards his siblings, grabbing them and dragging them to their feet.

"Go!" He shouted, picking up Rebekah and dragging her towards the tree line, Kol close behind.

He looked back, trying to see you, but you were gone.

They stumbled into the woods, the sounds of the raid fading into the distance.

"Where's Elijah? Henrik, Gerda, Y/n?" Kol asked, panic in his voice.

Niklaus didn't reply, the weight of his sister and the wound in his side making it difficult to breathe.

"Niklaus, where are they?" Kol repeated.

"I- I don't know," Niklaus panted, stumbling over a branch.

The trees loomed above them, the darkness of the forest threatening to swallow them whole.

They continued to run, the sounds of the battle growing distant.

"We will find them. But first we must get Rebekah to a healer, she will die if we do not," Niklaus stated, his voice low and determined.

"We can't just leave them," Kol protested, his voice cracking.

"You don't think I know that!" Niklaus yelled, louder and angrier than he meant to.

Kol was quiet, the only sounds were their labored breathing and the crunching of leaves beneath their feet.

They walked for what felt like an eternity, the pain in Niklaus' side growing worse with every step. The rapidly falling snow making it hard to see.

Niklaus could hear Kol sniffling and muttering to himself, his younger brother was barely holding on.

He was struggling too, the guilt and pain eating away at him.

He had failed you.

{Part Two} {Part Three} {Part Four} {Part Five}

♡♡ Tag-List ♡♡

♡ @gorgeouslydangerous ♡ @starkleila ♡ @lydia1369sworld ♡ @notleylaaa ♡ @vampiresluv ♡ @vamprium ♡ @myanmy ♡ @xflowerbombxo ♡ @maryvibess ♡ @always-and-forever-daydreaming ♡ @criminallminds ♡ @theesexystallion ♡ @rosemarypotion ♡ @spnaquakindgdom ♡ @amournoir ♡ @loving-and-dreaming ♡

♡ @meeom ♡ @damienmorton ♡ @wickedmuse ♡ @sunkissedebony97 ♡ @idk00sblog ♡ @savannaounana ♡ @cs-please ♡ complicatedandconfusing-25 @hamiltimes ♡ @akala6670229 ♡ @yeaiamme2 ♡

[on-a-lucky-tide]

The lovely @piranhaincaps shared the above with me, and I... Hng. Nikprice, Nikprice, Nikprice.

It's a quiet summer evening and Nik stumbles across his captain reading about princes and scarlet sails.

cw: none.

Nik finished stacking the dishwasher and stretched his back, hands pressed to the base. The captain's cooking had improved significantly since they had settled in Meols, but he still used every bowl, pan and utensil their small kitchen could stock and the clean up operation was always significant.

The old grandfather clock in the hallway chimed eight o'clock and Nik considered the open backdoor. John had left to water the plants about an hour ago, which meant he had been distracted by something. Nik grabbed his bottle of beer and headed out to make sure he wasn't about to embark on yet another building project.

The summer air was still warm, even though the sun was disappearing on the horizon. Being so close to the Irish sea meant there was always a fresher tang beneath the heat, and Nik drew in a deep breath as he studied their small garden.

John hated neatly trimmed grass, which had surprised Nik given his military background. No, he liked wild flowers that attracted the bees and butterflies, and growing vegetables they could cook. Their garden had ended up a colourful mishmash of organised chaos, both beautiful and utilitarian. Like John. Nik loved it.

But there was no captain toiling amongst the blooms. Instead, he sat on the patio beneath the awning, bare but for his khaki cargo shorts. A cold beer sat on the table next to him, the pint glass glistening with condensation where the summer heat clung to it, and he held a cigar between two fingers, the smoke drifting lazily into the warm ombre of the sky.

John was just as handsome as the day they had met. He had been a sergeant back then, fewer lines, less grey, but the same serious, bright blue eyes he had now as he read the novel propped on one thigh. As they had aged together, those blue eyes had filled with shadows but Nik had fought to make sure they had also filled with laughter in equal measure. His captain deserved that.

Nik wandered over and deposited himself in the second chair, grinning at the title of the novel. "Scarlet Sails. A romance, John," Nik teased.

A Russian classic, and written in its mother tongue. John had started learning Russian when Nik had started courting him, and now that he had retired he was chewing through Russian literature with a voracious appetite. They were a little more highbrow than the Dan Brown and Tom Clancy novels otherwise cluttering their overburdened bookshelves.

"This one better have a happy ending, Nik. The last one ripped my heart out my arsehole," John murmured, pausing to take a drag from his cigar. Nik watched the smoke leave his nose and was reminded of an aging dragon in repose.

"You forget, so many of these tales were written by men surrounded by anger and austerity. It is difficult to write about hope and happiness when you cannot conceive of these things." Nik's bare toes curled against the warm paving beneath them.

John looked up and fixed Nik with narrow eyes. "Is this a bloody tragedy too? You told me it was a fairytale."

"No tragedy, happy ending, I promise. Grin took his characters far away so he did not have to write something... ideologically driven by the realities of the USSR. It is an ending more suited to your tastes."

"Hmm," John grabbed his bookmark - a folded leaflet advertising a nearby fishing hotspot - and let the novel close. "How did you survive in that environment and still," John waved his cigar in a vague circle, "become you."

"Become me?"

Nik liked this game. John found words of an emotional nature challenging, and he flushed red, became flustered, when Nik pressed him. It was like stroking the soft centre of a noble turtle. "Like, you... uh, kind, and... funny."

"Spasibo," Nik replied, with a grin.

"Pozhaluysta." John obscured his flush with a sip from his pint.

"My father travelled around the satellite states a lot. The closer you were to the West, the easier it was to get hold of the music, the stories, the... hope."

"West isn't exactly a bastion of hope itself, mate."

"Da," Nik conceded, "but to a young man full of energy and dreams, the West was like a fairytale in comparison to the Soviet Union, a world so grey that Alexander Grin had to make up a whole new one, without even Russian names, to conceive of happiness and love that was not doomed to tragedy in the end."

John hummed and Nik let the comfortable silence settle as he mulled over Nik's words. A gentle hand found his on the table, battle roughened fingers impossibly tender as they stroked across the back and into his palm. "You're happy here, right?" John asked as they watched a bee hover over a cluster of wild flowers.

"Da, captain," Nik said softly. "I expected a Tolstoy ending, but... this, this is a Grin."

John smiled, his eyes crinkling, his whiskers twitching around his mouth in that mischievous way that Nik adored, and he lifted Nik's knuckles to his lips. Nik 's heart swelled in his chest and he fought the urge to scoop his love from the chair and carry him inside to show him just how happy he was. John rubbed his cheek against Nik's fingers after the kiss, blue eyes lidded, like a large cat scenting his territory, before returning their clasped hands to the table.

Later, when the night was cooler and John had finished his beer, Nik would guide him to their bed and they would make love. Nik would kiss and taste the summer heat on his skin and listen to his voice crack around his name, entreaties sweeter than the words of Tsvetaeva. But, for now, Nik was content to bask in the gentle quiet of their own happy ending.

[thera-daydreams]

SCARLET & SHADOW

ᱬ The Darkling x Scarlet Witch!Reader ᱬ

[aleksander morozova x wanda maximoff!reader]

series masterlist & synopsis • thera's masterlist

chapter three.

▪︎ reflection ▪︎

You are confronted by a certain Shadow Summoner about your motives in bringing the kids to the Little Palace. He realizes that you've loved and lost so deeply, eerily the same as he had. Perhaps that's the reason why he was so drawn to you; he could see his reflection in your eyes. But the more answers the Darkling got, the more questions he had. Unfortunately for you, Aleksander was a patient and persistent man who would stop at nothing to get what he wants.

warnings: grief, implied depression, mentions of the many tragedies of wanda maximoff, the darkling is getting very suspicious and that's not a good sign for you, no beta we die like wanda

word count: 4.8k

(author's note: so we see his vulnerable side and scheming side all in one chapter, lol.)

The fallen leaves had a crisp crunch to them today.

As you go about your duties in the garden, you hear familiar footsteps approaching. When you look up, you see the Darkling making his way towards you, the ever-present regal air about him.

“Good morning, moi soverenyi,” you greet, placing the packet of seedlings down on the grass. Moonflowers, he notices the labels on them.

He stops a few paces away from you, his gaze fixing on you, the sharpness in them never fading. “A word, Miss Maximoff?”

You blink, slowly standing. He seemed much more serious today. Not that he wasn’t, usually, but you felt a… change in his approach to you. General Kirigan glances around the garden, his expression almost cautious for a moment. Then, he motions for you to join him as he strides towards a more secluded corner of the garden; an area that's shielded from view by a large flower bed. He stops beside a stone bench beneath a tree, motioning for you to sit. Once you're seated on the stone bench, he remains standing for a moment, his back to you as if he's contemplating something. Then, he turns and takes a seat beside you.

It was quite tempting to read his mind right now since he seemed to be thinking so hard.

The General glances at you out of the corner of his eye, his gaze almost watchful as he seems to consider his words. The silence stretches on for a few moments, the only sounds coming from the garden around you - birds chirping, a light breeze rustling the leaves in the trees.

“I heard something about you,” he reveals. Your eyes widen slightly, somewhat alarmed. What did he say?

“Pardon me, General?” You very nearly stammered. Kirigan looks at you, his gaze meeting yours directly.

“You were not entirely truthful about why you became a gardener here in my palace.” He regards you with a knowing look.

“I’m sorry, I don’t think I follow, sir—”

“Katyusha, Dmitri, and Henrik. Familiar names?”

The color almost drains from your face. He tilts his head slightly, his gaze never wavering. There's a slight hint of curiosity in his expression, almost as if he's trying to decipher something about you.

“... No, moi soverenyi,” you lie. But you were awful at it sometimes, for a powerful witch.

“Is that so?” He hums, sounding in disbelief. “But I heard from the boys themselves you actually brought them to the Little Palace. Not a traveling hunting group, as indicated in their papers. And sweet Katyusha appears to miss her… mama.”

You close your eyes, calming your beating heart. Did he talk to the kids himself? Were they questioned? Shit. It would be very hard for anyone to lie to the Black General, more so children under ten! Kirigan watches you intently, his eyes studying your features.

“I’m sorry, General—” He holds a hand up to cut you off.

“None of that. My only question is why?” He asks suddenly, his voice low. “Why did you do that? Help not one, not two, but three young Grisha orphans?”

I frown at his incredulous tone. It was terrible that it was a world where acts of kindness to Grisha were so unbelievable. “They deserve to be cared for properly as Grisha, sir. They were very young when they exhibited their abilities, especially Katyusha as a Heartrender.”

The General nods slowly, processing what you've said. His gaze was mixed with something that almost looked like respect. He's silent for a moment, seemingly contemplating his next words. “And... how did you know they were Grisha, at such a young age? Usually, the Grisha testers—amplifiers are needed.”

“I took them under my care from the streets for a year, sir. And with how… powerful they seemed to be at their age, it was a bit obvious,” you mutter. The Shadow Summoner raises an eyebrow at your response.

“Obvious?” There’s a hint of disbelief in his voice.

“With Katyusha's temper tantrums added to her separation anxiety when she was so young… and her being Heartrender... you can imagine.” You sighed, rubbing your face. “The boys were already using their powers by the time I took them in, sir. Probably because they often had to be on the run to survive.”

The Black General frowned. He knew what that felt like, centuries ago. He hated the fact that even until now, with Grisha of the new generation, it was still the same problem.

You look at him, swallowing a little nervously. “General Kirigan, I... will confess. I did apply for the gardener position here at the Little Palace to… mainly to see them every once in a while. If there is a punishment for this, I am more than willing to—”

He shakes his head, stopping you. “You care about them. All three of these children."

“Of course! They are still children, Grisha or not,” you interject. He senses the protectiveness in your voice. “They deserve to have a chance at a good life!”

The Darkling observes as you get a little riled up. He looks as if he's considering something, his expression almost contemplative, as if he's weighing his next words carefully. “And... you, Miss Maximoff... are not Grisha, are you?”

You shake your head. That was one truth you did not need to change, thankfully.

“Your care for them is quite remarkable, Miss Maximoff. Especially since you're not Grisha,” he remarks curiously.

“My care for them should not be remarkable. It is human decency,” you huff indignantly. A spark appears in his dark eyes at the sight. “I did not want them to be persecuted by the villagers who don't know any better... just because they are Grisha. That's why I brought them here. Some people are just… heartless.” You exhale.

Kirigan nods, fingers tracing the smooth stone of the bench you two were sitting on. “Many Grisha are feared and hunted, even as children. They are perceived as... unnatural. Monstrous.” His eyes darkened momentarily, unpleasant memories running through his mind. “It was noble for an otkazat'sya like you to personally bring them to the Little Palace.”

The General tilts his head slightly, watching you silently. There's that curiosity again in his gaze, as if he's contemplating something, trying to figure out something... you.

“You’re not like other otkazat'sya, are you, Miss Maximoff? At his words, you do your best not to freeze like a deer in headlights.

“... What do you mean, sir?” Your voice was measured. Controlled. Neutral. The lying was never the easy part of all your secrets, huh?

Kirigan leans closer to you now, his gaze focused intently on your face. He's studying your features as if he's searching for something. “I've met many otkazat'sya in my life. But... you're different. There's something about you. Something I can't quite place…”

Mother of all saints, he was onto you. Though, he did not know much about it yet, thankfully. Still, you weren’t doing anything illegal in Ravka. So why was it so disconcerting?

He tilts his head. There was something about you that seemed so very familiar. “Miss Maximoff, have… we met before?”

That made you pause. No. Never, as far as you could recall. You shake your head. “Not that I remember, General.”

“Well, Miss Maximoff, do you disagree with my observation? Do you not believe there is something different about you?” You honestly had no idea how to respond to that.

“I don’t know, sir…”

He looks at you, his gaze steady; intense. There’s a look in his eyes that seems almost... expectant. It’s as if he’s waiting for another answer. Or an explanation. What could you say?

“I can easily have you taken away for questioning if you’re lying, you know,” he prods, his voice casual; a hint of humor in his tone. “I could also have you executed, if you like. Possibly for insubordination.” It was as if he were discussing the weather and not the idea of ordering someone’s death.

“... You could, yes,” you murmur calmly. Too calmly.

“But it seems like you’re not afraid of death, Miss Maximoff.” Kirigan was impressed. Perhaps he should retrieve Ivan or Fedyor to see if you were truly unafraid as you appeared to be. Another reason why you seemed to be such an intriguing otkazat’sya.

At his remark, you chuckle. The Darkling looks at you, his gaze now more intrigued than before. There’s a hint of fascination in his eyes, as if he’s trying to figure out what makes you fearless in the face of mortality. “How peculiar. Why not?”

“I guess you could say it's an old friend,” you reply vaguely. His expression turns slightly puzzled at your response.

“An old… friend?” he mutters. You nod.

“Explain.” A deep frown had curved his lips down. He did not understand.

“Is that an order, moi soverenyi?”

He looks at you, his gaze unwavering. “No. It’s not an order. It’s a… request, Wanda.” His voice was slightly softer than before. And it was the first time he used your first name.

“Hmm... death is…” You look up at the fluffy clouds in the sky, trying to word your response. Kirigan looks at you, his gaze intent, listening closely as he awaits your response. “... Like a friend, always there. Always waiting... patient, silent. It bides its time until it’s your time.”

He was silent, almost considering your words.

As you fiddle with your fingers, you add quietly, “When you've lost enough people in your life, you'll realize that... death may not be something to fear. It's almost... peaceful, the finality of it. That all of the suffering and pain is gone.”

Unbeknownst to you, the words struck a chord in the Black Heretic himself. There’s something in your words that resonates with him. 

“You have a unique understanding of death, Wanda,” he mused.

“Do I, moi soverenyi?”

“You do. Most people fear death, but you seem accepting of it. You talk as if it’s a comfort to you.”

“And if it is?”

Kirigan watches you closely, noticing the tiny smile on your lips as you gaze downwards at the grass at your feet. There’s a moment of silence as he studies your expression, trying to understand the depth of your acceptance of death.

“Powerful Grisha age slower... don't they?” you asked suddenly.

“Yes, that’s correct,” he confirms. “Powerful Grisha live longer than ordinary humans. But why do you ask?”

“You're perhaps the most powerful one right now. So it stands to reason that you must be much older than you look, General.” You pointed out, an inquisitive look in your eyes.

The Darkling looks at you, a hint of surprise crossing his face at your observation. He grows a bit more guarded, and there’s a hint of something else now in his eyes—a slight wariness at the thought that you’ve managed to deduce something about him.

“You have a keen eye,” he says curtly.

“Just been reading at the library,” you murmured, before adding. “When the Apparat is not around. Although servants aren’t prohibited to go there—as far as I can recall from the rules—I prefer to read in peace.”

Kirigan looks at you, an almost amused smile tugging at the corners of his lips. From your answer, it sounds like you’ve just been casually reading about Grisha and their powers. “You’ve been studying... Grisha in the library?”

“I wanted to know more... especially for Katyusha, Dmitri, and Henrik,” you share honestly. “To understand who and what they are even more.”

At your answer, the Darkling feels a strange tug on his heart… and his lips.

“If you're older than you look because of your powers... I'm sure you have some thoughts regarding death as well.” You rest your elbows on your knees, leaning forward as you sit on the bench. “Perhaps you disagree with me. About it being an old friend.”

The dark-haired general doesn’t respond immediately, but something in his eyes suggests you may have hit a nerve. His expression remains solemn and contemplative for a moment before he speaks again. 

“I don’t disagree,” he mutters, his voice soft but slightly distant. “But death… is not something I have accepted.”

Wistfulness washed over his stony facade, like he was contemplating something far beyond the conversation you’re having now. “I am not immune to death, even as a powerful Shadow Summoner. It is inevitable, unfortunately. But... I do not accept it so easily. I am not yet ready to embrace the finality of it all.”

“I can understand why,” you whisper, meeting his eyes for a moment. He appears surprised, his eyes searching your face for a moment, as if he’s trying to see something deeper within you. There’s a touch of vulnerability in his gaze now; a glimmer of what he’s keeping hidden.

“What makes you say that?” he clarifies hesitantly. You tilt your head at him. Even without you reading his mind, you were certain about his motives. It was clear from everything that you’ve read about the current history of Grisha and Ravka and the Black General.

“You are the Black General. An infamous Shadow Summoner. The leader of all Grisha. I figure that you dislike the finality of death because there is still much you wish to do... to accomplish,” you remarked after a few seconds of scanning his features. “And I have a feeling it's for your people, the Grisha. Or for Ravka…”

General Kirigan looks at you, faint astonishment and... could that be admiration in his eyes? He seems almost taken aback by your astute observation. 

Little did you know how accurate your words were.

For a moment, he stands in silence, his expression thoughtful. Finally, he responds, his voice soft.

“You are too perceptive, Wanda.” He mutters, a slight smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “Too good at reading people.”

You could read minds, too, but you haven’t done that since you sent those Grisha slavers away from you and the children months ago. The general did not need to know that, though. Not ever, you hope.

You laugh softly as the two of you sit on the stone bench in the garden, the gentle breeze rustling the leaves and plants, leaving a fragrant, fresh scent in the air.

“My apologies, then, moi soverenyi.”

“No need to apologize,” he assures you, shaking his head with a slight smile. “In this palace full of fools, it’s refreshing to talk to someone with a modicum of sense.”

“You shouldn’t call your people fools, sir.” A small giggle escapes your lips. He finds himself drawn to the sound.

General Kirigan looks at you, an amused expression on his face at your playful scolding. He pretends to be affronted by your comment but there’s mischief in his eyes.

“Am I not allowed to criticize my own Grisha?” he hums, a hint of a smile on his lips.

You smile at him. It made your usually gloomy demeanor brighten the same way it did when he spotted you with those Grisha children days ago.

He likes seeing you smile, he finds.

“Well, I'm an otkazat'sya. I don't think I have a valid opinion on that.” You gaze at the nearby flower bed.

He shakes his head slightly, a soft breath of amusement leaving his lips.

“Ah, but your opinion is welcome nonetheless,” he mutters, his voice a touch fond. You return the tiny smile he shows, before he asks. "Why... may I ask, have you accepted the finality of death?"

You somber down at his words, the smile fading. “I do not have many goals or aspirations left in life, sir. I guess the only one I have now is seeing Katyusha, Henrik, and Dmitri happy and thriving as growing Grisha.”

He examines you, his expression becoming more serious as he notices the subdued tone in your voice. The hint of a smile on his face slowly fades away, and he gazes at you, his eyes gently studying your features.

“Your only aspiration is seeing the children thrive as Grisha?” Was there concern in his voice? Maybe you imagined it. You nod.

“You... don’t have aspirations of your own?”

“... No. Not anymore, at least,” you whisper.

He studies your face, as if he’s trying to see the depths of your soul. “If you have no aspirations, then you have nothing to live for,” he comments solemnly.

“But... the children will grow up. They will be grown Grisha, capable of taking care of themselves someday. What then?”

“Then…” You focus on your dirty garden gloves. “I'm more than content to be with my old friend.”

Death, he remembers. And the relentless Darkling didn’t realize that a part of his cold, broken heart could still break. He searches your face for any sign of jest or insincerity. When he finds none, something strange passes through his eyes—something he doesn’t want to admit, even to himself.

“You... you would truly accept death so easily?”

This time, the smile you gave was nothing near joyful.

He shakes his head, “You are strange, Miss Maximoff.”

Silence grows between us for a minute. Then, he breaks it.

“You said you’ve lost enough people in your life… who, if it’s alright for me to ask?”

Everyone, you think. But one person always stood out. Vision. “... My late husband. Amongst… many other people.”

He can sense the pain and sorrow in your words, and he gives a soft, quiet hum in response.

“I’m sorry for your loss.” His voice was low and gentle as he offered his condolences.

At his words, you smile a bit. Genuinely. “Thank you, moi soverenyi.” You scoff a little, amused. “You're... actually the first person to say that.”

The general’s eyes widened.

“Am I really?” Disbelief coated his voice. “No one else has said it to you?”

“I grieved his death alone,” you whisper. “I did not exactly have… a body… to bury. So there was no funeral.” Realizing the weight of your own words, memories of creating the Hex to cope with your loss ran through your mind.

You don’t notice him staring at your forlorn expression, mirrored in his face. His heart seems to tighten at the thought of you having mourned your husband alone, with no one to comfort or reassure you.

“You... you mourned his death alone. No one was there to comfort or reassure you during those dark times?” Kirigan was stunned. You inhale sharply.

“... No.”

Unbeknownst to you, he knows exactly what it's like to grieve alone.

Only the rustling of leaves and chirping of birds could be heard in the garden.

Unable to help himself, he finally speaks up in a low voice. “You did not deserve that.”

Your head snaps to him, a questioning look in your glassy eyes. Both of you make eye contact for what seems like forever as you await his next words.

“You… you did not deserve to go through such grief, alone. No one should have to endure that burden alone,” he murmured.

You smile sadly, fingers fidgeting. “I was ten when my parents died. But I had my twin brother, Pietro…” The mention of the name on your lips stings your eyes. “We were practically inseparable after… the incident.” The bombings of Sokovia which left you and so many orphaned.

General Kirigan waits for you patiently, not interrupting what you wanted—needed to say out loud.

“And when Pietro died… it was like this wave washing over me again and again. Knocking me down. When I try to stand up… it just comes for me again." Unconsciously, your hand comes up to rest on your chest, where your heart was. "I… thought I was drowning every time I breathed.”

Kirigan watches, jaw clenched at how you described your grief.

You paused, a melancholic smile appearing on your face. “But my husband was there to comfort me. Not yet as my love, but as a loyal friend.”

His features soften as he sees the sadness in your smile. “Your brother was there when your parents passed... and your husband, even before you loved him, was there after your brother was gone,” he echoes.

“But when my husband passed…” You laughed humorlessly.

“Where were your friends?”

You shook your head. “... It's complicated. It was a... tough time for me and my... friends.” The Blip reunited many loved ones. Good for them. “I cannot blame them for not being there.”

“Not even one of them?”

You ponder sadly. “Natasha would have been there, I think. If...”

The Darkling has a questioning look on his face at the new name. “Natasha.”

“A mentor of mine. Also my best friend,” you smile fondly, then shake your head. “But she died around the same time, too.” On Vormir for the Soul Stone to revive the snapped other half of your universe.

The Soul Stone for your best friend and the Mind Stone for the love of your life. How tragic.

General Kirigan was left speechless. How many people you loved did you exactly lose? You seemed so young. But it was as if you could more than fully grasp the depth of solitude he had experienced. And he was centuries old.

The Black Heretic himself.

“Did... you have any children with your husband, if I may ask?”

“Twin boys, just like my brother and I. Billy and Tommy.” There was a sparkle in your eyes as you remembered them. Kirigan takes in your smile at the mention of your twin sons. He listens quietly as you whisper their names, as if you've thought about them for a long, long time.

Suddenly, you shake your head and stand, finding the conversation a bit too much. “I—I’m sorry, General. This must all be too overly personal. I'm oversharing—”

He shakes his head, motioning for you to sit back down on the stone bench beside him. “No, no. It’s fine. And besides, you look like you need someone to talk to, Wanda.”

“...”

And should that be the general and the head of the palace you were currently working in? It was quite embarrassing that you were venting out to this man.

Sighing, you sit, chuckling. “... You must be wondering where they are if I'm here living at the Little Palace, spending all my days gardening.”

His brows raised, but he had a feeling he knew the answer to that question, too.

“You don’t have to tiptoe around it. My boys are… in a better place now,” you whisper.

The man senses the heaviness of your words; the weight of your grief. Obsidian eyes swirled with emotion, as if he can relate to your pain in a way that few can understand.

“Is that why you're so resigned to death, should it come?” he asks quietly, his tone low and gentle. "Have you been alone for so long, Wanda?"

You give him a sad smile, “Perhaps it is simply my fate.”

The Darkling himself had mixed feelings about fate. He was old, so very old, and yet, a part of him still held onto the hope that maybe the Sun Summoner—his balance and other half—was true. But this fate of eternal solitude that you spoke of… he did not want to believe it at all.

“And yet, despite all that you have lost, you still chose to care for and bring those three children here to the Little Palace,” Kirigan noted.

You look down on your hands. “They were never mine.”

Many people told you the same thing with Vision, Billy, and Tommy. Not yours. Not real.

He can tell that he's just on the cusp of understanding something about you, a hidden depth to your character. There's a strange pull to you, some indefinable quality that's drawing him to you more and more.

“You're stronger than some Grisha I know,” he says, true admiration in his voice. His eyes linger on the jar you're holding, watching as the snail moves slowly inside the glass jar. “You’ve endured solitude, grief, and loss more than once, and yet you continue to live, to breathe… to love.”

You meet his gaze. It feels like you were being beckoned by the intensity of his inky eyes.

But before you could respond, you two hear the crunching of grass and rocks, someone approaching you. Quickly, you stand from where you were seated beside the General, placing a more respectable distance between you both right as one of his oprichniki comes into view.

General Kirigan turns to look at the approaching guard, a slight frown on his face. He eyes the soldier that has come to see him, a slight annoyance evident in his gaze. As soon as you move away from him, and he notices the distance you've put between you and him, his frown deepens even more and a flicker of something almost… possessive passes through his eyes.

“What is it?” His eyes narrowed.

The oprichniki spoke, bowing. "Moi soverenyi, your carriage to Ryevost is ready.”

He nods, sighing exasperatedly at the soldier's words. He glances at you for a moment, then back at the soldier.

“Very well, I’ll be there in a moment. Go wait at the gates,” Kirigan commands. The soldier bows once more and quickly turns and leaves, leaving you and the General alone once again.

“... Thank you, General. For listening,” you say before he could leave. Said man looks at you, the frown on his face slowly fading. He studies you for a moment, his eyes roaming over your face. It’s clear that he’s still somewhat annoyed by the soldier interrupting your time together, but he tries to hide it from you.

“Apologies, but duty calls." There’s a hint of something… almost satisfied in his gaze, as if he’s pleased by the realization that you’re not such strangers anymore.

His gardener was even more of a fascinating person beneath all the layers.

“Safe travels, moi soverenyi.” You bow. You don’t see the slight smile curving his lips upward as you do.

“Until we meet again, Wanda.”

ᱬᗢᱬ

As the General rides in his carriage to Ryevost, his thoughts continue to circle back to you. He thinks about every little thing you said, everything you did, every expression on your face and movement of your body. He’s unable to shake you from his thoughts, running his fingers idly across the top of the leather seat of the carriage.

What an enigma.

An otkazat’sya woman who willingly brought three Grisha orphans to the Little Palace out of her own volition? And even applying as a gardener to covertly watch over them?

You must be truly dedicated to those kids.

His brows furrowed as he remembers once more that when those two boys—Henrik and Dmitri—had admitted that you were the one to personally escort them. Alone. You guys did not accompany a traveling hunting group, as they initially mentioned all those months ago.

���Fedyor, those three children I spoke to earlier this week,” he starts, turning the man inside the coach with him. The Heartrender listened attentively.

“Ah, the boys who are so attached to little Katyusha?” Fedyor smiles. He’s met the very young girl before, amazed that her being a Heartrender manifested at such an age.

“Where did they say they traveled from again?” the general asks.

“Hmmm… I believe it was a little town somewhere in Tsibeya, sir. They traveled on foot for days to get to the Little Palace,” the Heartrender replied, unaware of the General's growing concern. “Brave little ones.”

Aleksander’s eyes turn to the view outside his carriage, thinking deeply.

Tsibeya was so close to the Fjerdan border. And you were out there alone. In the cold. With three Grisha children. The boys didn’t mention either if there was anyone else accompanying your group in your journey into Os Alta. Only that the traveling hunting group was a lie.

A few months ago, too, Fjerda had sent a fresh batch of drüskelle past the Ravkan borders. He remembers it quite clearly, given the number of casualties in his northern regiments during that time.

It would have been very unlikely for your small group to have survived had you encountered a drüskelle in your trip. Moreover, it should have been likelier that you and the children would have encountered one whilst traversing Tsibeya.

The children were not clearly Grisha yet without their keftas and all, he supposes, but the drüskelle still could have attacked any Ravkan—Grisha or not. He’d also seen that Henrik and Dmitri were already somewhat well-versed with their powers so young. If a drüskelle, say, saw a young Inferni lighting a fire to keep his group warm in the cold…

Something was not adding up.

Plus, there were a couple of units of Grisha assigned in those areas. Surely, your group could have passed any of them. You could have chosen to hand over the kids to them, too—it would have been safer if they were protected by the Second Army soldiers, right? The children would have had Grisha escorts bringing them to the Little Palace.

But no, his mysterious little gardener did it all by herself. 

And not a single hair was harmed on the children’s heads even after such a long, dangerous journey.

He scoffs to himself. They were even more unharmed than the armed, trained soldiers he sends to the north.

The more he knew about you, the more questions Aleksander was having. But he had to be patient. This conversation would have to wait until after his stay in Ryevost.

Unfortunately for you, Aleksander was an incredibly patient man with centuries of experience.

He would get his answers from you soon enough.

next chapter

Reblogs, comments, and interactions are welcome here! 💖🙏

What do you think about Sasha here getting even more sus of you, hmm? Will Scarlet Witch-in-hiding be able to hide from the Darkling? 🤭

taglist: @idohknow

[a-court-of-lust-and-stardust]

Elain represents a kind of femininity I wish I had. It’s so disheartening coming across posts that say she’s too boring or spends too much time in her garden or in the kitchen cooking and baking, as if there’s something wrong with that. As if she's lesser because of it.

Elain finds joy in things that society would consider traditionally feminine. What’s wrong with that? What is so wrong with her planting flowers and creating something beautiful that makes her happy? What is wrong with her trying out new recipes and making delicious food for her friends and family? What is so wrong with her being a more quiet and peaceful presence amongst her loved ones?

Despite being exposed to so many horrors and having her previous life ripped from her in an instant, Elain hasn’t lost what makes her…her. She’s quiet. Soft. A calming presence. A person who finds beauty in simplicity in an extremely complex world.

This does not make her pathetic and it sure as hell does not make her weak. I, for one, am excited to see where her story goes because I want her to prove everyone wrong, the book characters included. To be honest, I feel like she already should've proven people wrong when she killed the King of Hybern, but apparently she's not tough enough. Not mentally or emotionally strong enough to handle tragedy and darkness.

It seems like so many people have written her off because she doesn't fit the "strong, independent woman" framework, which I think is quite silly and truly insulting. Women can be strong, independent, and secure, and still enjoy gentle activities. Elain has already shown that she can be a strong woman when she needs to be, and a soft woman when she chooses to be.

[jiminsass-istant]

SMERALDO GARDEN MARCHING BAND : NOT JUST A FUN SONG

One thing you can expect before listening to any Jimin song for the first time is that NO TWO SONGS WILL EVER BE THE SAME.

Naturally I had too many questions when I watched the SGMB Track video!

Face was about inner reflection and tragedy, while MUSE is apparently about Jimin's artistic inspiration. Since the entire Muse album is not out yet, I kept wondering how SGMB fit into the 'artistic inspiration' concept. What do we learn about Jimin in SGMB? But most importantly, who is Jimin's muse?

********************************************************************

To answer, let's look at Jimin's intents. I divided them into 2 parts:

"Tell things we/he couldn't before"

A recurring thing we have seen in chapter 2 Jimin is his desire to "tell everything he couldn't before", and this started right from 2022 Festa dinner:

True to his words, he started being more honest and telling us his story in Face. That's how we knew he had already started expressing more truth than he ever had before. Not only that, in the BTS documentary, Jimin even opened up about his depression while dining with JK.

But was that ALL he had to say? NO! Because he says this in Closer Than this which was released in dec 2023 ->

Since CTT is clearly a fan song, he is addressing fans here when he says that he wants to reveal everything to his fans. Going by the bangtan lore, I think we can safely conclude that here 'spring day' for bts refers to the day they are reunited with their fans again (2025), that is - post military. Meaning, Jimin will keep revealing things through his music well after MS is over.

A wonderful army pointed out that the english lyrics of SGMB are not entirely correct. The line "I'll tell you everything now" should actually be "i'll reveal everything on your behalf", which brings us to Jimin's second intent-

2) "The truth untold"

The BTS unit song TTU speaks about how the protagonist is unable to confess their feelings to their love because they consider themselves ugly and unworthy (due to lack of self-love).

In the first teaser for Muse, Jimin found the music sheet for The Truth Untold inside the purple lockers. And then he releases SGMB which is basically the positive (and happy future) version of TTU.

The twitter thread i referred to previously explains this very well and all of you should read it:

Let's now look at some of my personal observations in the MV before i put on my delulu cape.

Jimin's showmanship:

Jimin is basically a host, a presenter, cupid, and the lead of Smeraldo Garden marching band. It's like he entered the Smeraldo garden of thorns and despair along with his band to help the protagonist reveal their true feelings to their loved one. The garden is now lively with all positive elements- dance, kids, butterflies, bubbles, confetti. It showcases Jimin's change in attitude and how he has truly begun to love himself. That's why when Jimin says :

" Ooh, I love you babe I'll come closer to you I love you, babe (Yes, sir) Ooh, I want you, babe I wanna hold your hand I want you, babe"

He's saying this on behalf of the protagonist. That's what Smeraldo Garden Marching Band does- it helps people in despair, helps them to express love.

2) Jimin is NOT homophobic!

People really used the scene of Jimin separating the sapphic couple as him being anti-gay. Let me show you the scenes where Jimin took the flower from a guy. Look at the guy's stance, look at the lyrics. The correct translation for the lyrics in the image is " the truth untold". He is indeed referring to a hidden truth in this particular scene, 'hidden' being the keyword here, which i'm sure the lgbtq+ community is more than familiar with.

To realize the importance of this scene, just go to any reactor and see their face when they see Jimin accepting a flower from a man. They hold their breath only to release it when they see him playing matchmaker to hetero couples. Don't you just love Jimin's brain? lol.

Let's look at the 2nd scene of Jimin giving a flower to another man-

Again, Jimin is bowing down this time, while the adlibs go "just for you". Jimin is not just being a 'wingman' here as some might think- a wingman doesn't 'present' flowers like this. He is subtle and this is him recognizing all sorts of relationships.

3) The sunflowers face the viewer, not Jimin or his band. The sunflowers face the...SUN. I think I am starting to wear the delulu cape here (yes i mean cape and not cap). We all know from Jimin's innumerable moon references that he associates himself with the moon, not the sun. The sun tattoo haver has always been the sun from the sun-and-moon duo. Just like the moon tattoo haver is the moon of the duo.

So this whole time Jimin has been talking to the protagonist of TTU- is it Jungk-

NO NO WAIT! Didn't Jimin just sing -

"Since we're together now"..together as in...

("Yes Sir!")🤷‍♀️

Correct me if I'm wrong, but didn't we clarify last time that being 'together' means 'dating' in Korean, as in most other languages of this world?! Ahem.

Look like someone is getting 'serenaded' as in 'serenade' version of Muse.

*sighs very loudly*

Disclaimer: Just because i made a jikook interpretation of the song doesn't mean i don't recognize and agree with non-shipping interpretations. *sigh*

Anyway, there is another interpretation of SGMB by andy-wm. I really loved the pantomime comparison:

And another by jimin-bangtan:

Trust that if Jikook make 'yes sir' jokes in the travel series, I'm gonna lose it. Just a little bit.

I cannot wait for the rest of the album! These are all love songs. We are getting happy-sappy Jimin you all ! The Jimin who went through so many struggles is finally loving himself and has learnt to be happy with his loved ones.

[lescarbille]

Enchanted

Answer to : Send me a word and I'll write you a Carcar drabble

(Omegaverse / Regency AU)

Carlos has never liked balls.

Balls are nothing more than a vast masquerade set up to display wealth and power. The ugliness of high society is disguised behind blinding pomp, champagne gold glitter on purple macaroons, chandeliers in the gardens and exotic flowers as decoration.

Carlos has never seen so much jewelry and so many pretty outfits as at a ball, while some hide infamous gambling debts and deviant behavior.

Carlos is thirty years old, and balls are becoming an obligation. It is not a tragedy to be single at his age, but it sends the wrong message to society: frivolous morals, an Alpha with bad instincts.

Carlos remains sulky while omegas demand that he write his name in their ball book, preventing him from enjoying his red wine. He is just perfect, the rich and fruity coat on his palate, better than the gigantic comic play playing out before him.

“Aren’t you happy with all this attention, Carlos?” Charles Leclerc mocks as he places himself next to him. “I think the whole assembly is holding its breath waiting for you to dance with an Omega or better, marry one.”

“They can suffocate.”

Charles sniffs.

Charles Leclerc is married to a Dutch prince, Max-Émilian, they met during their first season and married two balls later, unable to take their eyes off each other. If Love had to be defined in the form of an image, Charles and Max-Émilian would be the portrait.

Charles is just coming back to enjoy the social season, reporting gossip to his husband with amusement. Sometimes he even plays matchmaker, but it’s purely for fun and to the nerves of high society.

“You are so difficult,” Charles mocks as he nudges him with his shoulder. “There are such pretty Omegas though, look at that one… He is a violinist, and an excellent dancer. His family isn’t very rich, but he has an interesting conversation.”

Carlos just drinks his wine, not interested.

He’s not looking for an Omega.

He doesn’t want to be there and doesn't want to get married.

He just wants to be quiet and at peace. So he runs away, he goes out into the gardens and looks for a corner of solitude, a peaceful place, away from the shimmering outdoor chandeliers and the fragrant flowers.

Hidden between tall bushes, he watches the moon and the stars. The stars are more soothing than all this ridiculous wedding fair, they’ve been here so long that they must have witnessed disaster and mismatched couples.

“Hey! What are you doing here!? It’s highly impolite to run away from a party like this."

Carlos turns to see who’s calling out to him.

Above his head, an Omega stands on a balcony. He has light brown hair that shines silver in the moonlight, brown eyes, and his status is shown by the pastel colors of his clothing, where Alpha and Beta males wear dark colors. His scent is also a clue : sweet chocolate, eucalyptus, and honey. A sweet scent, like all omegas, but with enough of a spice to it that it’s not unpleasant to his nose.

“Isn’t it dangerous for an Omega to be alone?” he retorts. "You seems to run away from the party too."

“I’m at home, and I’ve spent over ten minutes in the ballroom, that’s a record,” he asserts with undisguised sarcasm. “And I won’t have an ounce of guilt to defend myself if an Alpha with filthy manners decides to pick on me. You see, my book is heavy enough to knock one out.”

Carlos notices the book he’s holding, a veritable brick.

“You’re right above the library,” he says. “My safe haven in this ordeal. How’s it going down there? I heard there’s an extraordinary alpha coming up and all the mothers are in turmoil.”

“They are. I had to run.”

“So you’re that Alpha… I thought you’d be more cocky, more handsome too. Disappointing. They make me wear this awful outfit just for you. I dislike you from that moment and now you disturb my peace."

"You are the one who talks to me, you must not disliking me much."

"I'm trying to make you leave, without throwing my book in your face. I like this book."

Carlos can’t help but laugh as a smile grows on the Omega’s face, amused by his own repartee.

“Carlos, I'm enchanted to meet you.”

“Oscar.”

[mangacapsaicin]

akihiro yamada’s tragedy of the garden of many flowers || 山田章博の『百花庭園の悲劇』

[sylacris]

— chrysanthemums.

elbert greetia x gn! reader

content: sfw ; angst ; character study ; mild(?) spoilers for william’s route ; victorian flower language ; self indulgent (screw plot)

(partially) inspired by: tonight you belong to me by patience and prudence

word count: ~754

a/n: first ikevil fic, trying to wrap my head around the characters …

Of course Elbert knows you belong to Will.

After all, you were the most beautiful when you're with him. He's seen the image many times throughout your stay in the castle. The way you light up when William enters the room, the lift in your voice when speaking to him, the love in your eyes when William is reflected on it.

The way that William is the reason for your beauty.

If the gods pried into his brain and search for the question he's asked the most—the question thought to himself in fitful nights of longing and early morning blues, something that even Elbert feels guilty of admitting through words— it would be:

Why?

Why you? Why William? Why not him-

That was the thing he has been trying to find the answer for ever since his own eyes landed on you that night. A robin caught in a gathering of villains, like a single white rose in a bush of red. He had almost wanted to pluck you and keep you to himself. Until William’s voice chimed in, recognizing you, and you, who shared the same sentiment.

A month passed by in a blur, it was easy for Elbert to get lost in time. But he would always remember the determination in your eyes in that meeting regarding the papers detailing the “crimes” of William Rex. Your eyes shone with a beauty brought out by the King himself.

You'd almost caught him marvelling at the sight of you.

He wanted to help, one way or another. However, the Crown could not move under the name of the Queen, or in large groups due to the risks in secrecy, so he asked Alfons to act in his stead.

“Your ability is suitable for infiltrating the enemy headquarters… May I trouble you to go with them?”

In the end, he's aware of why it was William you chose. It was a fact that he knew deep down in his heart, something he'd rarely acknowledge and yet will resurface everytime his mind wanders to the thought of you.

William Rex is everything that Elbert Greetia isn't.

And in that very fact alone lies Elbert’s own tragedy. One that'll slowly eat him up from the inside until there's nothing left but the remains of a monomanic yearning.

Not every beautiful thing could be his, Alfons would poke in the playful manner that he usually dons. But perhaps his words do hold weight in this situation.

It's alright, he can settle for watching from afar.

(No he can't. His curse could never allow it. He wants, he wants, he wants... And that was how his destiny wrote itself in tragedy.)

Elbert knows of the fact that he's awful at suppressing his tendencies. Hands that can't be kept to himself, always wandering to something he'd desire, it was usually a question of when he'll have it- rarely a question of if, up until now at least.

Those same hands that desired more, now held yours in a slow waltz.

"Al informed me that William went out on a mission... I was… quite surprised to find out that you did not come along with him."

"It's because it's quite late, and William insisted that I stay behind tonight."

step, step, step.

A dance across the garden, that was his invitation. Indulging in the opportunity that arose in William's absence. It was Elbert’s own way of satiating his want.

(though it will never be enough)

Some part of him feared that by interacting with you like this, he'd yet again desire for more. More than a longing stare across the dining table, more than a dance in the garden, more than just his hand in yours.

“How about you, Lord Elbert? You seem troubled these days.”

“...Ah, how so?”

And just as both of you reached the middle of the pavilion, you let go. The coldness setting on his hands faster than he'd like in the absence of your warmth.

And in the next breath, you'd take your leave- greeting the wistful earl a goodnight. Heels clicking as you step out of the pavilion and into the moonlight, until you were nothing but a distant figure, one he did not take his eyes off until you'd reach the confines of the castle, your silhouette disappearing from his sight

And once again, he stood alone in the garden pavilion.

The yellow chrysanthemums looked bitter under the moonlight, and he knows that those same flowers would never bloom in an azure hue.

© sylacris. 2024 —

[dyns33]

A story of witch

Happy Valentine day !

As a gift, here a looooooooong Morpheus x female reader.

Careful, some spoilers here, from the comics and so maybe from season 2.

Time had a different hold on witches.

A certain influence, because contrary to common beliefs, nothing escaped time and nothing was perfectly eternal, but it slipped over them as long as they decided, and had enough magic to repel its effects.

Y/N had already been walking on Earth for several centuries when she met Morpheus.

She had heard many legends about the Endless. Rumors. Lots of warnings, especially regarding Dream, who was described as a changeable, dangerous, angry and resentful being.

Her many sisters whispered to each other that becoming his lover was as much a gift as a curse. He would offer you the whole world on a platter, he would do everything to please you, and then one day, without warning, you would no longer suit him, you would do something wrong according to him, the feelings would no longer be as strong, and then misfortune would strike you.

The king would always find a way to blame you for this new emotional failure. Then you risked Hell, endless nightmares, eternal sleep.

Too much hassle for little benefit.

Y/N didn’t think about any of that when she met Morpheus. Neither to the wonders he could offer her, nor to the torments he risked inflicting on her.

For a witch, some might have thought that she was young, still naive, far too in love with her books and grimoires, fascinated by stories, and therefore vulnerable to the charms of the dreams master.

She didn't think she would fall in love. Neither did he. The mourning of his marriage and his child were still recent, for a being such as him. Y/N had barely been born when this tragedy had happened.

The subject was not brought up, like none of his former lovers. Morpheus did not forget, he never forgot, but when a new relationship began, he did not look back to compare with the previous ones.

No doubt it was a mistake on his part, who then never learned from his mistakes.

Y/N hadn’t had as many relationships as him. Witches have the luxury of immortality, and they knew the consequences of it. Bonding with mortals wasn't a good idea, even less so with their peers. Too risky. Too dangerous.

Attempting to see the future in dreams could have been described with the same words. Y/N was taking the risk of being punished by two Endless, Destiny and Dream.

But Destiny never interfered in anything, and Dream was intrigued by the little witch, asking her not to repeat her experiments, but welcoming her into his domain.

As they walked in his garden, the inhabitants of the Dreaming knew before them what was going to happen.

"Your flowers are beautiful. Everything is beautiful here."

“Would you like to see my library ?”

"Oh, I'd love to ! But you must have a lot to do, I don't want to bother you more than necessary."

"You don't bother me, mikri magissa. You are welcome here."

It took a while for Y/N to realize that they were getting closer. The courting of the king of stories was subtle, ethereal like him, full of poems and tenderness while doing without many words far too heavy with meaning, and at the same time far too limited to convey all the ardor of their love.

Because they loved each other, there was no doubt about it. The end of their story came quickly, although to a mortal three centuries seemed like a lot. At the same time, those who knew Morpheus well could testify that this was quite a long time for a relationship with him. But as always with his relationships, there had to be an end.

“I’m just saying he’s not wrong.”

"You don't know what you're talking about, o mágos mou. This man is insane and I'm not lonely."

“However, I have felt you far from me for some time now. Perhaps forever.”

"Don't I love you more than anything ? Haven't I shown you my love on many occasions ?"

"I don't know. It's difficult for me to know with you, immutable and yet so variable. Sometimes you give so much, too much, and sometimes not enough, if it's not nothing. There is no middle ground with you. Probably not with me either. It's possible that I'll ask you impossible things."

“Nothing is impossible for me.”

“Yet you refuse to speak, to really speak. You flee this kind of discussion, as you fled the friendship of this man.”

“Don’t push me, Agápe μου.”

Y/N left the Dreaming that night knowing she wasn’t coming back. Morpheus' indifference to her departure could have been seen as fortunate, but it hurt her deeply. He didn't try to catch her, he didn't try to punish her either.

Even though it seemed obvious after several weeks that he would not pursue her, neither in her dreams nor in the Waking, Y/N took precautions to prevent their paths from crossing again. Using several spells, rituals, amulets and ancient seals, she ensured that her mind was cut off from the realm of her former lover.

This protection proved very useful when the sleeping sickness arrived.

Like the rest of the world, Y/N didn't immediately understand what was happening. She knew Dream enough to know that he would never neglect his work like that, that he would not abandon his position unless forced to do so, and that despite all the cruelty and resentment he was capable of, he would never do such a thing to the dreamers.

Something had happened, but she didn't know what.

Too afraid of what he could do to her if she went into the Dreaming, or what could happen to her sleep without the protections, Y/N didn't try to find out. It wasn't her business anyway, since they were no longer together and the fate of humanity wasn't part of her responsibilities.

Time continued to pass, and she still tried to help mortals when she could, with potions and incantations to help them sleep, or on the contrary wake up, ensuring that their nights were not entirely nightmares.

But this was difficult, because she was not the master of dreams. Without knowing it, she came very close to Morpheus the day her steps led her near a mansion with dark, gloomy energies, which she did not wish to approach too closely. However, there was something, abandoned under a tree near the property, which attracted her with strong force.

The body of a raven. A raven different from the others, a dream. Jessamy. Someone had shot her and she lay there, lifeless, far from her creator, far from her home.

Y/N took the poor thing with her. Necromancy being prohibited, it was not good to anger Death, and the existence of dreams being a complex thing, she did the only thing in her power, to offer a decent burial to the little emissary whom she had loved very much and who had often helped her control Morpheus' moods.

When collective sleep returned to normal, there were no signs. Nothing that made it possible to understand what had happened. Curious by nature, the witch repeated to herself that she should not try to understand. The rumors would spread quickly.

She heard about Burgess. Whispers recounted the long confinement of the maker of nightmares, who had taken revenge before setting off in search of his stolen instruments in order to rebuild his kingdom. Twice he went to the Underworld, he faced a Vortex, he fell in love. Nothing really new, just the same story over and over again.

Y/N didn’t want to know any of this, but the choice wasn’t hers. One of her sisters came to visit without being invited, and to ask her advice.

“I don’t see how I can help you, big sister.”

"You have experienced what I am experiencing. Tell me how to escape from Oneiros, because I no longer wish to see him and he does not seem ready to accept it."

The rumors had not mentioned the fact that Morpheus had fallen in love with a witch again. Older than Y/N, more powerful, crueler too, because Thessaly had little interest in things of the heart.

" … I repeat, I'm not sure I can help you. Make sure you don't inspire him with any more feelings and you'll be free."

"Sweet little sister, he still loves you and yet he left you alone. I'm asking for this."

"He doesn't love me. He didn't love me for a long time when I left."

"We argued often and each time my wing of the castle was razed and then rebuilt under his orders. There is no trace of his former companions left in all of the Dreaming. None, except you. He did not touch your room. He denied me access to it. He recreated it with everything else after his return. Can you tell me that doesn't mean anything ?"

Y/N didn’t respond. She didn't know what to answer, she didn't know about all this. Her eldest whispered that she was almost jealous. Many times she had wondered if she had gotten his attention because of their similarities, because she reminded him of his lost love.

It might be a good idea for her younger sister to discuss it with the Lord of Dreams.

"Or not. That would allow me to slip away without him probably noticing, but I can't wish harm on one of ours. I'll find a way."

This time, Y/N closed herself off to the whispers, not wanting to know if Thessaly had found this way.

Part of her wished the best for the lord of stories, who had suffered far too much in the last century despite all his wrongs, and who did not deserve to receive another injury. Another part didn't like knowing the older witch was with Dream.

She was afraid for her sister, and she was afraid for Morpheus, whose fickle heart was more fragile than he wanted to admit. The consequences were likely to be terrible for everyone.

Filled with memories, Y/N wanted to visit Jessamy’s grave. A powerful spell had hidden it from the eyes of the world, to prevent it from being desecrated, and she wondered if she had not made a mistake in doing so, for it was possible that Morpheus had never known where his faithful emissary rested.

But the magic of ravens was special, these beings knew things, and she shouldn't have been surprised to find one of them on the tree that protected the location.

"Good morning." she said politely, making new flowers appear near the grave.

"Hi. Do we know each other ? I feel like I know you."

"I don't think we've ever met. You're Dream's new raven."

"Yeah, Matthew. I don't know why I'm here. I'm sort of drawn to it, and Lucienne told me to follow my instincts for this sort of thing, but I don't understand. Are you the one calling me ?"

“I think it’s more your predecessor that you are feeling.”

"Jessamy ? Oh… The boss thought her body was destroyed or something. Were you the one who buried her ? That's nice of you. You don't look really surprised to see a talking raven. I feel like I'm supposed to know you. You seem important."

"Not really, no."

"The boss could tell me but he's busy at the moment. He's accompanying his sister on a quest. Good, it's keeping him busy. It's been raining too much since his break up, it's been days. Merv told me that it was almost always like that, frankly it's painful to watch. The time with this Nada, the time with his ex-wife, the time with another witch… I don't know what he has with witches. I didn't like her at all, she was mean."

“It rained in the Dreaming when I left ?” Y/N couldn’t help but ask, surprised by the news.

Before that day, she had always believed that her departure had had no impact. A total, cold indifference, showing that she no longer mattered. But Thessaly had talked about her room, and Matthew had talked about the rain, and Y/N didn't know what to think at all now.

She had left Morpheus because of his inability to communicate, the distance he put between himself and the whole world. His grand declarations of love always seemed hollow, lacking something.

Maybe he had changed. He would never have allowed his emissary to speak as Matthew did, who was moving around on his tree asking a thousand questions about the relationship between his boss and Y/N. He even allowed himself to order her to leave, because he really didn't need Dream falling into depression again by seeing her through his eyes.

"He's got enough problems, he… Oh. Oh, no. I feel it, he's there. Shit, shit, shit. I have to go !"

Years without any news and within moments Y/N hearing about her former lover almost every day. Until someone came to her door and she found herself face to face with Morpheus.

He seemed embarrassed. He had always been awkward in the waking world, out of place, because dreams hardly survived in reality. But there was something else. He would never have bothered to knock before. He would have come into her house to say what he had to say, demanding that she listen to him, and agree with him at the end.

Without saying anything, he observed her as if he were seeing her for the first time, turning his gaze towards her bedroom, the door of which was surrounded by several symbols used to repel dreams and nightmares. Y/N expected this to make him angry. He had already not liked her touching his domain when they first met.

"I thought you followed my sister into the sunless lands…" he whispered, looking down. "I no longer felt your presence in the Dreaming. I didn't think you were running away from me. It didn't seem to me that I gave you reasons to run away."

“I wasn’t sure you’d be happy to see me again.”

"I have waited a long time for the day when I would have the joy of seeing your sweet face again. It never came, but I am the one responsible for it. You were right about Hob Gadling, You were right about many things but I didn't listen, and I lost you. It was one of my greatest regrets."

“Why are you talking like that ?” Y/N asked as she approached, their hands almost touching.

"Mikri magissa, so much has happened. I am at a crossroads, with a big decision to make. I admit to being afraid, and you give me courage."

“Maybe I can help you ?”

"Even if you could, I wouldn't ask you. The search for my little sister is dangerous, a lot of blood has been shed since we left in search of our brother and I couldn't bear to see it happen to you. I had agreed to help her to see someone again, without understanding that it was you I secretly wanted to see, and now I must find a way to console my sister, disappointed by my lack of investment. But the only way we have left is one that I dare not name."

Y/N had briefly met Morpheus' family, including Destruction and Delirium.

The prodigal had spoken to her little before his retirement, but he had seemed tired, reaching the limits of his functions and no longer seeing the point of remaining with all the inventions of mortals and immortals which fulfilled his role perfectly without he needs to intervene. His siblings did not understand his decision.

One of the most affected by his departure had been Delirum, very close to his brother, who would have given anything for a family reunion.

"If this means your downfall, I can't believe Delirium would ask such a thing of you." Y/N said indignantly, not daring to come any closer. “There must be something else.”

"I don't think my younger sister is aware of what she's asking of me, nor do I think it's possible for me to go any other way without putting someone else in danger. I just came to see you, and thank you for what you did for Jessamy, and for the dreamers during my absence. I hadn't seen all these acts of kindness. But maybe it's you who didn't want to see me again. Not with my behavior. Oh, mágos mou… I so wanted to be better for you, but I could only change by going through all these trials, and for that I had to lose you."

It felt like goodbye, and Y/N didn’t like it. By definition, the Endless had no end, at least not while there was life in the universe. Without thinking, she placed her hand on Dream's cheek. He usually hated it, being touched, especially without permission, but he closed his eyes with a happy sigh, pressing his skin against hers.

Asking him if he was okay seemed stupid, but the question left her lips, and when his eyes opened again, they had a strange glow. He muttered that no one had asked him that question since his release. It was almost years ago. In truth, no one had asked him that question, even before he was captured.

Like he said, it could be because he had changed, and he didn't really deserve to be asked if he was okay before. And now that he was making an effort, that he was understanding, that he was improving, it was too late.

"I'll find a way. I'll talk to your sister."

“Delirium has always loved you.” he sighed. "My whole family, I think. I never noticed that our relationship is the only one that Desire hasn't tried to sabotage. But maybe they knew that I would sabotage it on my own."

“Let me talk to her.”

Much to Morpheus' surprise, his younger sister listened to Y/N. She even seemed to become Delight again for a moment, as the witch promised to find Destruction, even if it would take time. She just had to be patient, but also accept that it was possible that their brother didn't want to be found.

It was his decision to leave, as it was her decision to change, and Dream's decision to stay the same. But if she asked him to continue their quest, horrible things could happen, and she might lose another member of her family.

"… Okay. But you promise to look ?"

“I swear on our mother’s first ledger.”

"Several people have died trying to help us, Delirium… It's not safe to…"

"Oh, shut up. You'll be with her to protect her, you didn't care about the others. You're probably happy that Y/N came back. I'm happy too, she's nice, you two were good together. If you find our brother, then everything will be perfect."

Several spells, formulas and sacrifices were necessary to find the trail of the Prodigal, or Destruction took pity on them by inviting them to join him, but they talked, and as Y/N had predicted, he did not wish to return, but he entrusted them with a dog to give to his little sister.

Before disappearing between the stars, he took his big brother by the hand, walking together near the cliff, and whispering something to him.

"What did he say ?" Y/N couldn’t help but ask.

"He told me not to make the same mistakes and to think about myself for once. Not about my position, not about my kingdom, about nothing but me, and about you. O mágos mou, it's been a long time, but if you…"

The kiss cut him off in the middle of his question, time seemed to stop, and it was as if they had never left each other.

[radical-revolution]

William Shakespeare

The minstrel

After some time you learn the difference, the subtle difference between giving a hand and fettering a soul; And you learn that to love doesn't mean to support yourself, and that company doesn't always mean security. And you learn that kisses are not contracts and that gifts are not promises. And you start to accept your loss with your head up and eyes straight ahead, with the grace of a grown-up, not the sadness of a child. You learn to build the roads of today, because tomorrow's land is too unknown to make plans and the future usually falls from nowhere. After a while you learn that the sun burns if you expose yourself to it for very long. And you learn that it doesn’t matter how much you care, some people just don’t. And you accept that it doesn’t matter how good someone can be, they will hurt you once in a while and you have to forgive them for that. And you learn that talking can be a relief to emotional pain. You learn that it takes years to build trust and just seconds to destroy it, and you can do things in a second that you will regret for the rest of your life… You learn that friendship continuous to grow even with the distance and that what matters is not what you have in life, but who you are in life. And you learn that you don’t have to change friends if you understand that friends change, and you realize that you and your friend can do nothing or everything and still have good times together. And you learn that the people you care the most are taken away from you too fast, that is why we should always say caring things to those we love, because it might be the last time we see them… And you learn that you shouldn’t compare yourself to others, but to the best you can become. You learn that it takes a long time for you to become the person you want to be, and that life is too short. And you learn that it doesn't matter where you've already gotten to, but where you are going, and if you don't know where you're going, anywhere will do. You learn that either you control your acts or they will control you, and that being flexible doesn't mean you are being weak, or that you don't have a personality, for no matter how delicate and fragile a situation is, there are always two sides of it. And you learn that heroes are those that did only what was necessary... You learn that patience requires a lot of practice. You find out that sometimes the person that you expect to kick you when you fall, is one of the few that will help you up. You learn that maturity is about what kind of experiences you’ve had and what you’ve learned from them, not how many birthdays you have already celebrated. You learn that there's more of your parents in you than you suppose. You learn that you should never tell a child that dreams are foolishness, few things are so humiliating that it would be a tragedy if he believed that. You learn that when you are angry you have the right to be angry, but that does not give you the right to be cruel. You learn that just because someone doesn't love you the way you want to be loved, it doesn't mean that the person doesn't know how to love, and s/he loves you as much as s/he can, because there are people who love you, but simply don't know how to show it. You learn that being forgiven is never enough, sometimes you have to learn to forgive yourself. You learn that with the same harshness that you judge, you someday, will be condemned. You learn that no matter how many pieces your heart was broken into, the world doesn't stop so you can fix it. You learn that you cannot go back in time, so you have to take care of your garden and not wait for someone to bring you flowers. And you learn you can really bear it, that you're really strong and that you can go farther than you think, and that life has a value and you have a value before life! And you learn that our doubts are disloyal and that makes us lose what we could achieve, if it weren’t for the fear of trying.

***

[lexsssu]

Enamored (Ren Hakuryuu)

TAGS: Hakuryuu/Lucifiel!Reader, smut, breeding, impregnation, parenthood, some plot Ao3 ver.

Iɴ ᴡʜɪᴄʜ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʜᴜsʙᴀɴᴅ ғɪɴᴅs ᴛʜᴇ ɢʟᴏᴡ ᴏғ ᴍᴏᴛʜᴇʀʜᴏᴏᴅ ᴏɴ ʏᴏᴜ ᴜᴛᴛᴇʀʟʏ ɪʀʀᴇsɪsᴛɪʙʟᴇ.

“ ...will only have one wife in this lifetime… ”

Ren Hakuryuu still remembers that day as clearly as if it happened only yesterday. Sunshine bathed the temple’s gardens as a soft breeze rustled the verdant leaves of the trees.

But of course, none of the colorful blooms could ever compare to your beauty even as they surrounded you. If anything, they made you look like a celestial flower fairy who’d come down from the heavens to grace them with your presence.

Although some found issues with the silvery-pearlescent scales that traveled down your cheeks and below your neckline, Hakuryuu found them utterly gorgeous. Just like how you’d caress the scar upon his face with such warmth and softness, he can’t help but do the same to you.

But his favorite has to be when he’s lucky enough to bring a splash of color to your cheeks via compliments or his more preferred method…

 “...Are you willing to become my empress?”

The way your blush only highlights the color of your scales has him mesmerized even as he was balls-deep inside your tight pussy. Despite having dumped several loads of cum within you already, the emperor finds himself too enamored to even stop any time soon.

Although it was expected for the empire’s rulers to produce heirs for their nation, there is so much more to this act than the need to conceive an heir. For a man like Hakuryuu who’d faced so many tragedies throughout his life, the chance to finally create something good rather than destroy is something that his battered heart had always yearned for.

And to be able to fulfill that wish with you?

Dazzling, beautiful, kind, and magnificent you.

●～●～●～●～●●～●～●～●～●●～●～●～●～●

When your newborn son opens his eyes for the very first time to reveal two different colors, Hakuryuu feels pride swell up within himself, because he is absolutely perfect .

Simply because he is your child.

“Thank you…”

He presses a kiss to your temple and watches as you fed the baby, enraptured at the most wonderful sight he never thought he’d be lucky enough to witness.

[theofficialpresidentofmars]

did I ever tell you guys about how I would adapt (the tragedy of) Hamlet (prince of Denmark) if ever given the chance. because I have so many thoughts and I’m adding onto them all the time so here’s a post with all my ideas compiled.

- firstly, it would be an animated mini-series of five episodes, each one corresponding to an Act. I think Animation is a highly under-utilised and underappreciated medium that would suit this particular story well in terms of what it could achieve visually and also these are just a bunch of words to say I’m heavily biased towards animation and just love it so much.

- there are so many fun little character design tidbits i would implement. including but not limited to: Horatio being the shortest, Claudius/Hamlet Sr identical twins (and Claudius having a Scar reminiscent scar on his face for the drama… and also the eventual Act 5 Scene 2 parallels when Laertes wounds Hamlet with the rapier in an incidentally similar way), Laertes having a silly curly moustache, Horatio and Ophelia resembling the other, Hamlet looking tired, pale and ghostly at all times, character’s hair being used as a way to show passing of time (Hamlet having hair on the long side of short in Act 1, growing but in a little ponytail over Act 2, medium-length and unkempt in Acts 3 & 4, and cut shortly and neatly in Act 5. also Ophelia’s hair growing noticeably as well and being often neatly braided with little flowers in Acts 1-2, loosely braided without flowers in Act 3, but being down and wild in Act 4 etc), and so on so forth.

- I would shamelessly be including flashbacks to pre-tragedy memories of the castle/inhabitants. Baby R&G&H running through the castle halls and playing hide and seek. Hamlet actually, god forbid, practicing fencing. The Players entertaining at the castle in Hamlet’s youth. Ophelia and Hamlet sneaking out into the garden beneath the willows by the pond, Hamlet braiding flowers into her hair while they sit together. Yorick entertaining baby Hamlet. All coloured with the softest, goldenest glows that nostalgia can manage to contrast the desaturated depressive hues of the current day. I think a lot of the tragedy of *Hamlet* specifically lies in comparing what was to what ended up being, and since the play starts after Hamlet’s entered his mourning period, it’s hard to fully comprehend the true nature of such a fall.

- Each Act having a lovely stylised title card in its introduction with themes and motifs that are specifically prevalent throughout. Act 3 would have curtains, for example, given the play staging and Polonius’ later poor choice of hiding place. Act 5 introduces the classic skull we all know and love.

- Very purposeful dramatic lighting and colour throughout. Daylight lighting and then the switch to a lot of Hamlet’s soliloquies seeming to appear under more ‘spotlight’ lighting. Early evening during the play, sunset during the scene where Claudius prays (golden light tricking through beautiful stained-glass windows), nightfall when Hamlet yells at Gertrude. Lighting also being used to dramatise entrances perhaps, such as Claudius’s prayer being interrupted by the shift to ‘spotlight’ lighting before we even see Hamlet at the door.

- Same goes with music and motifs, interwoven character leitmotifs and themes that shift keys and qualities and work together to make larger pieces and show up to herald the arrival of a character, or turn sour to match their emotions.

- the visual humour of the play being upped, as well as the wordy humour being emphasised, in order to really contrast the shift in tone throughout the halves of the play. I’ve always been a tragicomedy truther when it comes to Hamlet, I think if done well it could be a really neat way to get the audience to invest more in the characters while also really highlighting how quickly everything goes south.

Probably add more on as I go