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neo-shitty · 4 years ago

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dead man walking — k.hj

prompt. #24 — “you’re a monster” from @ficscafe’s dialogue prompt event

description. in which what was dead may never die.

pairings. kim hongjoong x female reader

genre. pirates of the caribbean!au, fantasy

warnings. minor character deaths, semi-graphic descriptions of murder, mentions of violence, blood, guns, a lot of historical inaccuracies, EXPERIMENTAL and the writing is just ?? also didn’t bother to proofread bc i might delete everything

word count. 4.1k

notes. inspired by this cover that’s used a lot on tiktok. loosely based on dead men tell no tales/salazar’s revenge.

Both the inky black sky and sea stretched into the horizon whichever direction you looked. Land had long disappeared off your field of vision as you sailed further into the ominous sea. Waves rocked against the side of the ship, occasionally spilling water into the cellar you were held in through the small gap on the wall. The gap was a pathetic attempt at a window, all jagged with uneven edges that could barely fit a hand through, but you were thankful for any link to the world outside. It kept you hopeful.

The light from the kerosene lamp hanging outside your cell would swing every now and then, enough to illuminate the marks you’ve left on the wall. Picking up a piece of charcoal, the medium you’ve become accustomed to using, you added another streak to your tally. It was yet another night wasted locked below deck.

It made you wish that you should’ve kept your mouth shut instead. But you knew that your conscience would haunt you if you let the crew of measly bold men make another attempt at crossing the Great Beyond without giving them a heads up on what awaited them.

You recalled the sound of your booths clicking against the wooden dock as you weaved through the crew trying to load in the last of the ship’s supplies. Their words flew past your ear as you climbed on to the main deck, neck strained in search of the ship’s captain. The famous Lovecraft, mastermind of the outrageous plan and said Captain of the Cursed Raider, spared you an unenthusiastic look before tapping the nearest crewmate. Thinking he was considering your warning, you waited. Little did you know that he was uttering an order that would put your life on standstill until the ship docked at the other side of the sea. He figured it was yet another attempt at catching a free ride on the impossible journey, so he threw you in with the others who attempted to do so.

And you ended up exactly where you didn’t want to be; on the ship, sailing to certain death.

But the voyage, so far, had remained uneventful—far from what you kept on insisting back on the docks. Maybe the stories you heard about one-man crews returning from failed expeditions weren’t true after all. If you said it out loud, it would be the greatest mockery to your great grandfather who experienced it first hand.

The townsfolk flocked to the docks as the lighthouse keeper announced that he spotted the Soul Cairn at the edge of the horizon. But their cheers slowly died down as the ship drew, realizing that there was only one passenger aboard. The lone sailor had been your great grandfather and the rest of his crewmates were littered across the deck with the spare sail draped over their rotting bodies. Rumor had it that the stench of the bodies was what made your ancestor go mad.

For days after he docked alone, all he could manage to say were 6 words: pirates, hourglass, stripes, ghosts, revenge, and death. He was hanged within a week of his arrival after being accused of murdering his entire crew. But he was only the first of many other voyagers who returned mad and alone. Those who came back told the same story. An unlucky few were never heard from again. The Great Beyond was said to be home to pirates who left only one man in the entire crew alive to tell the tale of their existence; seemingly to pass the message that they were still out there ready to strike revenge upon those who wronged them.

The frequency of the disasters were enough to scare anyone who dared to venture by sea. Ultimately, all travels across the Great Beyond were halted or rerouted for decades. Until about a month ago when a foolish group of middle-aged men decided to set course for the deadly route in hopes of finding land on the other side.

Though everyday spent out at sea never guaranteed any safety, you were starting to think that maybe the stories were nothing but hearsays afterall. An attempt to scare the citizens of the seaside city to stay put and never explore. Every day, the crew picked a single person from the cellar to allow on the main deck. You’ve been out a few times, getting your single dose of sunlight before they locked you below deck again for next week or so. At least, sleep came easy to you during the night.

The boat swayed whenever a sizeable wave rolled beneath, reminding you of the cradle from your childhood. Being homesick out at sea was tolerable, so long as you still had a bit of home with you. For you, home was the rocking of the boat. Subtle rocking, anyway.

Your eyes shot open when a keg rolled off the pile it was stacked on with a loud thump. Liquid spilled through and flooded the floor below deck. Sleeping folks groaned in their cells, disturbed by the accident. You sat up and backed away from the spillage, thanking your lucky stars that it didn’t cover the whole floor. But when you spared it a second look, you realized that it simply didn’t have the chance to.

A chill raced down your spine at the sudden temperature drop, watching curiously as the liquor froze right before your eyes. Every puff of air you let out clouded the space in front of you which made you wonder if the ship’s route encompassed sailing into subzero territory.

Rising to your feet, you peeked out the window and saw nothing. Outside, the world was grey. There were no glaciers, no sky, no sea. The thick fog seeped in through the openings, cooling the lower deck down than normal. A lot of the others remained unbothered by it, even thankful for the cold gust. You couldn’t sit still at all.

Your eyes scanned for the fog’s end but you couldn’t make out anything beyond a few feet. The sea water still sloshed against the ship’s hull, occasionally against your outstretched hand, but you couldn’t see its surface anymore.

A loud thump on the deck above you made you draw your hand back. A shout echoed across the deck, a signal for when the ship was under attack. The same voice attempted another call to arms but he ended up gurgling in his own words, falling to the floor with a loud thud. You shrunk to the floor, hand pressed tightly against your lips to hold back your shrieks. You didn’t have to see anything to know what was happening up there.

The fog had begun to clear and from the thick clouds emerged the silhouette of a ship’s bowsprit. Your jaw dropped at how massive the ship was when the rest of it came to view. It was easily twice as large as the ship you were on. The tip of its masts were so high up, it disappeared back into the fog beyond your vision. Of the whole ship, only the main deck appeared clearly along with its sail and the flag of black and bloody red stripes.

The upper deck had burst into chaos. Orders were shouted left and right, waking everyone up. Some of the crew have already marched below deck, loading the ship’s cannons with grapeshots before lighting the barrels up. “Fire!” they said, and the entire ship would shake as the heavy balls of lead shot out, directly on to the enemy ship but seemingly doing little to no damage.

Men from the enemy ship swung on braided ropes, landing on the deck one after the other. Their footfalls thundered across the wooden floor as the crew tried to fend them off. Shouts echoed across the deck along with the clashing of metal against metal. The floor groaned beneath them, carrying the weight of more bodies than it had been built for.

You could hear muffled cries and strained screams, followed by dull thuds on the wooden floorboards. The uncertainty of not knowing whose blood dripped through the crack on the ceiling made you quiver. You didn’t know which side was winning.

Outside your cellar, the crew fired the last of the cannonballs still to no avail. The side of the enemy ship was littered with holes but it still managed to remain afloat. The crewmates searched the lower deck for more projectiles to load but all the kegs and craters have been emptied out.

“There’s more on the deck!” One of the crewmates shouted, pausing when he realized it before darting for the upper deck. But he froze at the foot of the stairs, staring up with wide eyes and his mouth hung open. He took stiff steps aside to make way for someone coming down the stairs.

“What are you doing?!” the other crewmate yelled.

Before his comrade could reply, a gun fired—echoing down the hall of cellars. The man’s body collapsed at the foot of the steps as blood began to pool around him. The others in the cellars let out muffled gasps. The staircase creaked as a pair of tall men descended down the staircase together, nudging the boy’s dead body aside to clear their path. One reached up to grab the kerosene lamp from its hook to illuminate their way down the hall, panning the light as they passed each cell to glimpse at the occupants with blank gazes.

The other crewmate stood frozen, backed against the cannon’s tail. His attempt to conceal his presence fails as he trips on an empty pail. The pair of pirates turned their heads in his direction almost immediately, slowly walking towards the spot where the crewmate was. They stood over him before they ended his anxious misery with a gunshot to the head. Like his companion, he crumpled to the floor.

With the lamp illuminating their faces, you noticed that the pair’s faces were deathly pale—the lightest shade of grey. Their hair flowed as they paced the hallway, as if it were submerged in water that you couldn’t see. Their clothes and bodies were littered with bullet holes but there wasn’t a single drop of blood on their trial. Their insides, where muscles and organs should’ve been, were hollow. They were walking skin and bone.

Finally, they reached the end of the hall, pausing right outside your cell. The pair turned to the cell across you first before they turned to yours.

For moments, they observed you in silence. Their stoic expressions made you unsure if they stared out of pity or in calm rage. Finally, the man with an eyepatch draped over one eye pointed at you with a bony finger, “Her.”

An amalgamate union of voices booms loudly in your ear. The man had barely opened his mouth but you were certain that the voice had belonged to him. His voice was deep and rich and haunting, like the voices of the sirens that lured sailors to their deaths in the deep sea.

His companion nodded, stretching his arm through the gap between the metal bars of your cell. He had a hook where his hand should have been and the iron glinted with the rich orange light of the flame from the kerosene lamp. With one strong tug, not only does the cell door open but the whole metal gate was wrenched out of its place. Unhooking his hand, he let the iron rattle and fall on the ground in front of you.

“If you could come with us,” the same deep voice said.

You knew better than to go against them. Wordlessly, you walked out of your cell, thankful for the moment of freedom but not for the circumstance it came with. Pairs of terrified eyes watched as the pair marched you down the hallway, one leading the way and the other behind you. The air between them was frigid and every breath you exhaled clouded in front of you. You willed yourself to continue to walk forth, even when your knees trembled with every step.

They led you up the stairs and on to the main deck. The air was much colder outside even when the fog had already cleared into a light mist. You could see as far as the ship’s end but the area beyond it still remained hidden behind the cloud of grey. Across the Cursed Raider was the ship you only saw through the gap back in your cell. The whole thing was painted black, blending in with the sky and the sea. Its flag bore the whole ship’s only accent, the vibrant red stripes.

Around you the aftermath of the invasion showed a clear winner. Men who wore the familiar white sailor’s uniform lay lifeless on the floor, soaked in their own blood. Your blood ran cold at the sight of the massacre, breath hitching as you stumbled backward and away from the sight. Your back collided with the man’s chest and he stared down at you with the single eye left uncovered. You mumbled a quick apology immediately.

“Song,” a voice said and you realized that it came from the man in front of you. His voice was the same as the other’s, a cold string of multiple voices all combined into one. “Take care of the rest,” he ordered.

The man behind you nodded before he disappeared back below deck.

When you turned back around, you found a pair of lifeless eyes gazing down at you. In the moonlight you realized that his eyes were familiar, ones that you stared into on the posters in your father’s study. The resemblance was uncanny; he had the same pair of round eyes and the same tall nose. Once puffy cheeks were now sunken and his hair wasn’t patted down the way it had been in the wanted poster’s drawing. Though you could list down all their similarities, the single difference that made both profiles distinct was the date between today and the poster’s publication. If his posters were around from the time of your ancestor, he should’ve been long dead by now.

He turned his head, gesturing for you to come forth. All of the men who remained standing on the deck possessed the same ghastly features; pale thin flesh and pearl white bones beneath the uncovered parts of their body and the hollowness within. You recognized the others’ faces too, all of which belonged to the same pile of wanted posters from decades ago. Their faces were grim and stoic, moving with quick calculated steps as if they were controlled by string—awaiting their master’s next command. All of their eyes were trained at the quarterdeck and you followed.

On the elevated platform stood Lovecraft and a few other pirates. The once fierce-looking lad stood at the mercy of unfamiliar invaders who’ve overpowered him on his own ship, leaving him as the last man standing.

“You can kill everyone on this boat and spare me,” he began to negotiate.

Across him, a silver-haired bandit raised an eyebrow in amusement, “Why should I spare you? What do you have to offer?”

“My skills in navigating the sea,” Lovecraft blurted out, lying through gritted teeth before spitting out bitterly, “Captain.”

“Skills?”

“As you can see, I aim to cross the Great Beyond,” he announced proudly, but his statement sent the entire crew of pirates howling in laughter. All save for their captain who only continued to stare amusedly.

The one they called Captain continued only when the laughter had finally died down. “Any skilled sailor would know that it’s foolish to even attempt to cross the Great Beyond.”

Lovecraft’s smile disappeared as his expression darkened. “You call me foolish and yet here you are as well,” he answered, tone shifting as he reached for something behind him. “Perhaps, you are the foolish one.”

With one swift move, he drew his pistol out, aimed at the man across him and fired. You let out a gasp as the gunshot’s echo reverberated in the silence, but you had been the only one who was surprised. The bullet’s force knocked the man’s head back and you waited for the familiar thud of a fallen body but it doesn’t come. The captain of the Cursed Raider smiled before bursting into fits of hysterical laughter at what he’d done. He kissed the barrel of his gun in high praise, bragging to the remaining crew members for outsmarting their captain. You didn’t get the point of his celebration, not while the said captain still remained upright even after a clean gunshot to the head.

The captain’s laugh began with a low grumble, quiet but enough to silence the other. He jerked his head back up, letting everyone witness the way his flesh patched up the hole the bullet left behind.

Lovecraft’s jaw dropped in horror and disbelief. He staggered backwards, accidentally dropping his gun when he could no longer control the way his hands quivered. His back rammed straight into two other pirate men, shrieking when he saw one’s skull through a missing patch of skin.

His attention is drawn back to the captain when he hears a gun click. Before he could turn his head, he already felt the cold metal barrel of the gun pressed against his temple. His eyes scanned the deck frantically, panic and fear rushing through him when he laid eyes on all the lifeless bodies scattered across. But alas, his eyes find yours.

“You there! Do something!” He called from across the deck. Eyes turned in your direction and the ghosts waited for you to make a move.

But you could only do so much when you were surrounded too.

The silver haired man chuckled at the lad’s horror-stricken expression, clicking his tongue before he opened his mouth to say, “Estupido.” Then he pulled the trigger.

You looked elsewhere at the last second, hearing only the ringing sound of the gunshot and the dull thud of Lovecraft’s falling body. The men on the quarterdeck shuffled and soon enough you heard their footfalls as they descended on to the main deck, slowly making their way to where you stood. It took you a few more moments before you looked back up again. The captain’s face had the same ghostly features his crew had, and it was just as familiar as everyone else’s, except his face didn’t belong to one of the wanted posters compiled back in the study.

His face was the one etched on your great grandfather’s sketches—the ones he sketched repeatedly on the days leading up to his execution. He had a pair of hooded eyes rimmed with dark shadows that stood in stark contrast against his pale skin. A crack ran down his eyebrow up to his cheek, exactly the way your forefather drew him. There was no trace of the bullethole anywhere.

He stopped a mere foot away from you. You shivered.

“You look just like your father.” His voice was quiet, almost calm. You barely heard it with the pulsing in your ear. “Did he send you?”

You parted your lips to reply but your answer doesn’t come easily. You choke back a stutter, willing yourself to get your crap together and show now fear. “No. No, he didn’t.”

“What brought you aboard this pathetic ship then?”

You averted your gaze, staring at his maroon coat instead of his piercing dark eyes. Raking your mind, you desperately tried to recall how you ended up on the ship. “I,” you stammered, “I was just trying to warn them of the dangers that came with crossing the Great Beyond.”

He let out a low, earthy chuckle. “Oh, the wise one that you are. You really are your father’s daughter. How’s he doing?”

His words flicked off a switch in your mind and it filled you with rage. You recall the day you first asked your dad about the study, about the faces on the wanted posters, about what happened to his grandfather. Another memory of your father’s struggles to gain even your neighbor’s trust resurfaces and a flurry of other unpleasant memories comes back in a blink of an eye. Not a single person in your village looked at you normally; it was either out of pity, fear or disgust. All of them assuming that the deranged gene had been passed on to you.

“He’s dead, thanks to you,” you snapped, eyes meeting the Captain’s when you took a bold step forward—as if you weren’t trembling in his presence a moment ago. “You and your stupid pirate crew drove the poor man mad. You’re a monster!”

Heads turned in your direction as the words left your lips. The crew began to mutter around you and from your periphery you could see them zeroing on you. All of which the man in red dismissed with nothing but a wave of his hand. Everyone fell silent, everyone fell back into place.

“So I’ve been told,” he answered in the same amused tone, “Tell me, how am I a monster?”

“You mercilessly kill all but one passenger on every ship you come across.”

He cut you off with a laugh before you could continue. “My, did they do a splendid job in turning the story around!”

The captain turned away from you and you followed his gaze. You found yourself looking at the enormous ship docked next to the one where you both stood. He reached for something buried deep in his pocket, a miniature hourglass just about the size of his hand. He watched as the last of its contents emptied out to the bottom of the glass.

“I was from your town too, lass. That godforsaken town ruled by the filthiest of bastards. They hunted us down when we robbed them of the things they robbed from the people,” he said as he kicked one of the bodies lying around. A few gold coins poured out of the dead man’s pocket. “They chased us out into the open sea, sank our ship and left us drowning or shot us dead.”

Your eyes landed on the crewmate with an exposed skull.

“All we ever wanted was to know what it felt to live life not worrying about our next meals. And now we’re doomed to an eternity at sea, never to set foot on land again while these fuckers sail the seas to other isles to rob even more people.” He continued before he paced back to where you were. “Now tell me, who’s the monster?”

“Why not kill us all?” you asked.

“Not every ship is filled to the brim with these scoundrels. We spare those who’ve been unjustly treated like we have been, people just like you.” he answered, walking up to you until you were a mere hairsbreadth away. He leaned forward until his mouth was right by your ear. “I’m sure you’ll pass the message to the Captain of Hangman’s Hollow. Tell the General that I await his return to the Great Beyond.”

And just like that he vanished, just as quick as he came.

When you opened your eyes again, the fog had disappeared and you were met with the same inky black sky and the sea that stretched out wherever you looked. The moon hung overhead and its light bounced off the ripples of the waters beneath. The ship that loomed beside yours was nowhere to be seen and the main deck was devoid of the ghostly figures that had been there a second ago. Only the aftermath of the battle remained.

What they did in their sick pursuit for revenge was inexcusable still, but a part of you understood the feeling of always being at the bottom of the wheel. You thought about the crew; their thirst for vengeance and the captain’s parting words. They were souls lost in time, trapped at the place they met their demise until the day they’d achieve vengeance. Completely unaware that they’ll never be able to do so as the man they searched for was long gone and had been for nearly a century now.

You pitied them, knowing that their final quest to achieve the peace they sought for would end in vain. You wished you’d come across them in the waters of the Great Beyond just so you could tell them. Though you were unsure if their ears were open to anything, and maybe they wouldn’t be kind to spare your life the second time around.

But you had other things to worry about. You were standing in the middle of a floating casket, undecided on which direction to sail. Going forth meant a new clean slate but with the guilt of an entire crew’s death, sailing back meant certain death at the hands of the bereaved families.

No wonder your great grandfather went mad.

You were the only living soul for miles. And in the whole voyage back to your hometown, you could wish that you weren’t.

#ficscafe dpe #kpopscape #kwritersworldnet #hongjoong angst #hongjoong x reader #kim hongjoong imagine #hongjoong imagine #ateez angst #ateez imagine #ateez scenario #ateez hongjoong #kim hongjoong #ateez fics #hongjoong fics #kim hongjoong x reader #hongjoong scenario #kim hongjoong angst #ateez hongjoong imagines #toff.writes

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misspearly1 · 3 years ago

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Tagging Games <3

Thanks for the tag @coastielaceispunk, this was fun to do and reflect back on my own work :D

Rules: DON’T REBLOG THIS ONE, MAKE A NEW POST! List the first lines of the last ten (10) stories you published. Look to see any patterns you notice yourself, and see if anyone else notices any. Then tag some friends.

1. It's been a few days inside this cave for Y/N and Joel. Exhaustion and tiredness has halted their travelling. Using the shelter they have for the time being, to recuperate and gather their energy, before picking up their treacherous hike down the mountain. (Endure & Survive// The Mountain Between Us AU CHP 5 - Joel Miller)

2. Joel Clenched his hands into a fist, knuckles turning white from trying to hold himself back. He wants to kiss Y/N. Kiss her lips, her neck, sternum, breasts and...well, everywhere. But he wouldn't, couldn't, because she's half of his goddamn age. (Anon Request. Age gap/ Competence Kink - Joel Miller)

3. "Max! You fucking sicko, look at what you've done!" Pacing around your living room and shouting at your boss - your boss, you looked between him an the mess that he has made on your carpet. (My Girl - Max Phillips)

4. The bright hot rays from the late summer sun penetrated the tips of your ears and nose with a slight pinch. Damp clothing clung to your skin from the sultry, humid air as you walked along the streets of an abandoned town. The waves of the heat could be seen in the distance, making it look like the wild west and all it needed was a tumbleweed to skip over. (You're a Little Minx... I Love You - Joel Miller)

5. "I miss him too Jackie, and you will, you'll take care of her, I know you will" reassuring her, you pulled Jackie in for a tight hug as the child slept peacefully between you both. While you did this, you looked over her shoulder and saw Joel walk in with Diego. (BMR Series Chapter 19 - Joel Miller)

6. Laying across the small, somewhat comfy, padded booth of Mando's ship, the curvature of the seat was not helping with the already persistent back pain, gnawing at your lower back. A low groan slipping past your lips as you bury your head into your arms. (True Loves Revelation// Spicy Back Massage - Mando, Ezra, Frankie & Max)

7. Sitting nude on the edge of the mountain side, Y/N's feet dangled off the edge as she looked over the beautiful plains of Grizzlies East. (Part 7 Witch at Cairn Lake Series - Arthur Morgan)

8. "My Love, don't you ever tire of this story? Not that I oppose telling it" Ezra chuckled to Y/N, laying in their bed together and staring at the the ceiling of their home by the beach. She giggled too and looked at him with a smile across her face, "never! Tell me about the wooden house and the sunflower again, my darling" (My Little Sunflower - Ezra Prospect)

9. "Ahh" you exhaled joyously, maybe even pleasurably when sinking into the steamy water of the bathtub. Soap bubbling around your exposed flesh and on instinct, your eyes close to relish in the long overdue soak. (My Riduur, My Aliit - Din D'jarin)

10. Its been days since you rode Joel's leg on the sofa and the craving within your core to do jump on his lap to do it again is painfully high, today especially. (Thigh Riding Request for Joel Miller)

Patterns I see: I certainly see that my boy Arthur doesn't get nearly enough attention! Poor man. Joel Miller gets the most attention, lol. <3 My starting lines tend to be quite long too.. Not that I think it's bad I suppose. It's nice to start off with describing the scene, or jumping straight into it with dialog. However, that being said, I like the capturing one liners that pull readers in just as much.

No Pressure tags: @supernaturalgirl20 @something-tofightfor @winchestershiresauce @writerwoed @joelsrifle - Anyone else can Join too. Just start a new post because this one is a long one :).

Please let me know if you want me to stop tagging you in these, forgive me friends, I just want to include everyone <333

#Tag Games #This was fun #And very interesting too!#No pressure girls #Any one can join in

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unitysexdating135 · 3 years ago

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callmehopeless · 3 years ago

Note

Not me sitting here refreshing my dash til you replied 👀 😂

Yeah uhm… I don’t have a sleep cycle.. there was two weeks+ there where I was getting 2-5 hours sleep each night (morning) cos I couldn’t put down the b&b ff I was reading haha 🙈 I just had two days of 8+ hours sleep and I felt way grosser for them so that’s fun.

Honestly I think if I were to live in a diff aus city, woukd have to be adl or Hobart.. lol are just so nice in both places, I got emo over it more than once.. plus I was shook at how warm your beach water was in March?? (Random but true)

also, happy to have a new friend!!! 💞

We are friends now, too late to go back

It's ok friend, I have no sleep cycle either, at all. My psychiatrist remarks that my circadian rhythm is absolutely decimated by all of those years I spent studying at night, and while I try not to be nocturnal...it's hard, man

Look, everyone says ADL is boring - complete bogus. I have sampled many Australian cities, and as a non-born-here Australian, I can tell you that there's a bizarre and lingering number of single sexy people in this area. Also, our beaches have no jellyfish...usually. Which is very polite of the jellyfish. Plus, very few spiders / critters / bugs, but many boingy bois / climbey bois / misc

My second favourite is Cairns, which I think is because everyone who operates a yacht up there looks like someone from a novel I wish I had the courage to write

#hope talks #qui-gon anon #australian friends!

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penebui · 4 years ago

Photo

No more pretending

#hnk #houseki no kuni #cairnphos #cairngorm #cairn #welegato #welephos #phosphophyllite #phos #my art #hnk au #true cairn au

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theladyofdeath · 5 years ago

Text

In the Bleak Midwinter {3}

A Throne of Glass Period AU: 1920s.

Summary: 2 years after Arobynn Hammel is killed by Rowan Whitethorn, Maeve has returned from Eyllwe with a vengeance. Meanwhile, Rowan is getting married, Lorcan is a father, and Lysandra is finally ready to give her heart away. There’s been peace in The Cadre’s Orynth for 2 years, but peace never lasts.

A/N: And so it begins.

All characters belong to SJM. I am no more than a fan with a plot.

**Warning: mature content - language, alcohol use, drug use, sex, murders and shit.

Links & masterlists:

Fanfic Masterlist

Ask me

The Cadre - 1920s AU {TOG}

In the Bleak Midwinter {The Cadre, Part 2}

“I hear Cairn brought you my gift.”

Rowan eyed Maeve, his jaw locked as he observed her, taking a mental note of his surroundings. He reached his hand into his jacket.

Maeve’s haughty laughter had him freezing.

“Oh, Rowan, you and I have too high of morals to kill each other in a back alley,” she crooned. “Besides, I’m alone and unarmed.”

“You expect me to believe that you’re alone and unarmed?” Rowan asked, but his hand fell back down to his side, nonetheless.

“Yes,” she answered, plainly. “You see, I didn’t come here to take a life, nephew, especially not yours, not today. I came to explain myself.”

Rowan sighed, pulling his cigarette case out of his front pocket. “Very well.”

He pulled out a cigarette and stuck in between his teeth as Maeve said, “You killed Arobynn.”

“Well, he was threatening my life, so,” Rowan mumbled, igniting his lighter.

“Arobynn was my lover,” Maeve continued, as if he said nothing. She had a far off look in her dark, clouded eyes. “The love of my life. I was pregnant with his child, his son, his heir.”

Rowan blew smoke into the narrow alley before turning to meet Maeve’s gaze. “Your point?”

“Once I received word in Eyllwe that Arobynn had been killed, I was so stricken with grief that I lost the baby,” she said, words soft.

The sarcastic words faded from Rowan’s tongue. “I’m sorry,” he said, and he meant it. The loss of a child, no matter how horrid that child’s parentage, was no easy loss.

“An apology?” Maeve asked, intrigued.

“For your child,” Rowan said. “Not for Arobynn, he deserved what he got.”

“And here I thought we were having a moment,” Maeve said. She kept her distance.

“Drop your shit, Maeve, tell me why you’re here and fuck off before I lose my sense of morals and put a bullet in your head, unarmed or not.”

Maeve lifted a thin, sculpted brow. “My nephew finally has a backbone? How refreshing.”

Rowan said nothing as he put his cigarette back between his lips.

“You all betrayed me. After all I had done for you boys, raising you after your father’s death, taking care of everything while you were all away at war…” Maeve’s words trailed off and she shook her head, violently, those clouded eyes turning vicious. “And you murder my love? Not to mention that my child’s blood is on your hands, as well.”

Rowan smiled, but there was nothing humored in it. “You knew he was going to kill me, your own fucking nephew, and didn’t give a damn.”

“Perhaps not,” Maeve said, words light, once more. “And perhaps that’s why I intend to finish what he started.”

“Is that so?” Rowan asked, back pressed up against the brick of the Fireheart, once more.

“Yes, starting with the others,” Maeve said, her heels clicking against the cold ground as she approached. “Fenrys and Connall, Lorcan, Vaughan, Gavriel,” she continued, until she was standing just in front of him. She was a head shorter than he, but had a way of making him feel two inches tall. “Which saddens me, because I was always fond of Vaughan and Gavriel.”

“I’m sure the guilt will eat you up,” Rowan muttered, blowing smoke into her face.

She didn’t balk, but her eyes narrowed. “I will force you, nephew, to watch all of them die, so that you know their blood is on your hands, and when they are all dead, and your heart is as broken as mine, I will come for you, and I will kill you.”

“Hard to break the heart of someone that doesn’t have one,” Rowan said, eyeing his aunt as she took a step back and adjusted her coat.

“We both know that’s shit, Rowan,” Maeve said, eyes bright. “Your heart is bigger than all of theirs.”

Rowan scoffed. “You don’t know me. Not anymore.”

“Of course, I do,” Maeve said. “If you were heartless, I’d already be dead.”

She was right. Rowan Whitethorn was a bad man, but he still had morals, still had a code that he lived by. And as he watched Maeve walk away, he cursed himself for it, because he should have shot her there and then.

If he had, he would have avoided one hell of a storm.

~~~~~

Lorcan pushed open the front door of their home to find Natalia, a finger held up to her lips.

He knew that if he made any noise, she would have his balls - and that was not a figure of speech. The baby was sleeping, and it was hell to get that baby asleep.

Elide crept inside behind him and nodded her thanks to Natalia before taking Lorcan’s hand and leading him up the stairs, and down the hall.

“You’re drunk,” Lorcan sang to his wife as he stumbled inside as she shut the door behind them.

“Am not,” she fought back, but her eyes were lit with mischief and glazed over from the vodka.

“Look at you, letting your hair down,” Lorcan laughed, pulling his wife into him by her waist. Her head fell against Lorcan’s chest, then she was instantly clawing at his clothes.

Lorcan couldn’t help but laugh as she pushed his jacket down his arms, then his shoulder holster.

“Careful, it’s loaded,” he muttered, as she sloppily handled the machinery. With a shaky, excited hand, Elide pulled the revolver out of the leather holding and pointed it at the ceiling.

“Don’t act like you don’t think I’m sexy with a gun,” she slurred.

Lorcan reached up and took the gun away before slowly turning around and carefully setting it on the nightstand. “Sexy? Of course. Always. But dangerous? Also yes. And I prefer I don’t get shot tonight.”

Elide was on the floor, unbuckling her heels before kicking them off, then sliding her stockings down her legs. “I would never, I have a great shot.”

“You do,” Lorcan agreed, shoving his hands into his pockets, “when you’re sober.”

With a roll of her eyes, Elide was hopping back up on her bare feet. “Do you wanna fuck, Lorcan Salvaterre?”

Lorcan snorted, his grin spreading as he took a step toward his wife. “I always want to fuck.”

“Not true,” she said, shaking her head slyly as she wrapped her thin arms around his waist. “We’re not as crazy as we used to be.”

“We’re responsible parents now,” Lorcan argued.

Elide laughed. “We did create a pretty perfect human, didn’t we?”

“Yeah,” Lorcan breathed, pushing Elide’s dark hair out of her face and kissing her forehead, softly. “We did.”

“Let’s make another,” she said, unbuttoning his trousers.

“Well I - oh, fuck.”

She shoved her hand into his trousers, grabbing his balls.

Every word that had entered his mind quickly faded away as she fell onto her knees and shoved his trousers halfway down his thighs. “I, um-”

“Hush,” she mumbled, pulling his cock out and sliding her tongue along the sensitive skin. A long, low moan tumbled out of Lorcan’s mouth.

“Natalia is awake,” Lorcan muttered.

“Let her hear,” Elide said, as her lips wrapped around the head of his cock.

Lorcan’s protests faded away as his head fell back, his eyes fluttering shut. A string of curses left his mouth as Elide’s head began to bob, back and forth, her hands gripping his ass.

He felt the need to stop her, although he wasn’t sure why. Since the birth of Lucielle, they had only had sex on very specific nights, when they knew Lucy was fast asleep and Natalia had already prepared and turned in for bed, or when one of the others had Lucy for a night and Natalia was off doing her own thing.

Those nights did not come often.

At least, not often enough.

Let her hear.

Very well, then. Lorcan lifted Elide up, off the ground, and held her up against him, her legs wrapped around his waist as he carried her to their bed. He dropped her, hiking up her skirt as he pressed himself down on her, grazing his lips across her neck.

He didn’t need convincing.

If Elide didn’t care that Natalia heard, Lorcan would make sure his wife’s beautiful voice was heard throughout the house, throughout the street, throughout the city as he made love to her, over and over again.

~~~~~

The night air was cool as Aedion and Lysandra walked back to her townhouse, Gavriel and the twins close behind. Aedion thought it best that he walk her home himself, considering the circumstances. If he didn’t, he wouldn’t be able to sleep, terrified that something had happened to her.

He couldn’t help himself.

Once they arrived in front of her front door, Gavriel told them goodnight, then Fenrys” and Connall did, as well, strolling away with the women on their arms from the club.

Aedion turned to Lysandra and grinned. “I had fun tonight.”

“So did I,” she beamed, leaning against her front door. “I like being the guest of Aedion Ashryver.”

“Then let’s hope we can do it again soon,” Aedion shot back.

“Let’s hope,” she repeated.

Aedion’s grin widened as he nodded. “Well, I’ll say goodnight, then. Sleep well, Lys.”

He turned to walk away, but Lysandra’s voice had him coming up short.

“Aedion?”

He froze, and looked over his shoulder.

Lysandra’s eyes were wide, her lips parted. Aedion’s heart was beating rapidly as she asked, “Would you like to stay?”

A thousand responses flooded Aedion’s mind, but he finally came up with, “Yes.”

“Good,” she breathed, relieved, as if he would actually say no.

Lysandra took a key out of her clutch and turned the lock, Aedion close behind as she entered. He had been in her home plenty of times, but this time was different as she turned into the den and started a fire in the fireplace.

“Sit,” she said, looking over her shoulder at him. Aedion did not hesitate as he plopped down on the couch and tossed his ankle over his knee.

Lysandra slipped off her shoes before joining him there. “Can I get you a drink?”

“No,” he said, smiling softly. “If I have any more to drink I’ll pass out right here, soon enough.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time you’ve passed out in front of me,” she chuckled, bringing her knees up beneath her on the soft cushions.

Aedion chuckled. “True, but the last time that happened I was a child. What, seventeen?”

“Seventeen and too fond of cheap wine,” she laughed.

“I have since learned,” he assured her. “And that wine was delicious.”

“That wine was awful,” Lysandra argued, shaking her head.

Aedion’s lips twitched. “Perhaps so.”

He looked over at her, closing the mere inches that sat in between them on the dark piece of furniture with his eyes. He longed to reach out, to brush her hair back, the stray wisps that fell too far into her face. He longed to take her into his arms, longed to kiss her lips, softly, to tell her how much he loved her, still.

But he had learned long ago that telling her of his feelings only led to her shutting him down, and he understood it, so he had stopped pushing years before. Whatever happened between them would happen slowly, at her pace, and he would wait, respectfully.

No matter how long that would be.

He just loved watching, seeing how far she had come in the last two years. Her confidence bloomed. She walked with her chin held higher, took pride in her work, and in her home. She smiled more, her eyes had become brighter.

She no longer looked as if she carried the weight of the world on her shoulders.

“So,” she said, cocking her head to the side as she watched him. “I must tell you a secret.”

“A secret?” Aedion asked, instantly intrigued.

“About Aelin,” Lysandra went on, smugly.

Aedion arched a brow. “Well, now I feel you’re enjoying this. Which means it must be pretty big. So, I’ll bite. What is it?”

“You have to promise not to tell a soul,” Lysandra crooned.

Aedion sighed, dramatically, but then he nodded. “Fine. I promise.”

Lysandra’s grin spread wide. “Aelin’s pregnant.”

Aedion stilled, then a loud, humored laugh fell from his lips. “Pregnant?”

Lysandra nodded, excitedly, clapping her hands together. “Can you believe it? She’s going to be such a great mother. And little Lucy will have a cousin to play with.”

Aedion watched her, giddy over her excitement, giddy over the news, but his smile soon began to fade and he suddenly felt himself sobering up.

What a horrible time to be bringing a child into the world.

A war with Maeve was about to begin, if what Rhoe had told them all was to be true, and Rowan was the main target, so it seemed.

Rowan, the father of that child.

If Maeve was successful, and Aelin was left alone...it wasn’t that she couldn’t do it, but to do it, without him, her true love, her soulmate, would be unbearable.

And he would hate to see his cousin in such pain, such sorrow.

As if she could sense his thoughts, could read his mind, Lysandra was reaching across the cushion to take his hand in hers. Her smile was wistful as he met her gaze.

“They will make it out of this,” Lysandra said. “It is just another chapter that the Cadre must endure, another villain that must be defeated.”

Aedion chuckled, although he suddenly felt exhausted. “You speak of them as if they are saints.”

“Not saints,” Lysandra said, “but not as awful as they wish to be perceived.”

Aedion didn’t disagree. “I worry for her, not for them.”

“I know,” Lysandra breathed. Her fingers tightened around his.

“You still wear my pendant.”

Lysandra started, hesitated, then laughed, quietly. She reached up to fiddle with the emerald pendant around her neck. “Of course, I still wear it. Why wouldn’t I?”

Aedion shrugged, smiling softly as he reached up to brush his thumb over the pendant.

Lysandra’s entire body tensed.

Aedion’s hand quickly fell to his lap. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be,” she whispered. “I’m sorry-”

“You have nothing to apologize for,” he said.

But she was shaking her head. “Of course, I do, Aedion.”

Her smile had vanished, her brows furrowed.

“Lysandra-”

“I still love you, Aedion, just as I always have,” she whispered.

Aedion had said those words to her a million times, but Lysandra scarcely spoke of her feelings, at all. “You don’t have to, Lysandra.”

“It is not fair to you,” she went on, pulling her hand away from his, at last. “I know that you have waited for me, Aedion, but it’s not fair that I’ve asked you to.”

“You haven’t asked me to,” Aedion fought.

Lysandra smiled, but her eyes were sad. “You deserve better, Aedion.”

“Lys-”

“I love you,” she breathed, saying those words again. Aedion couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t form a single thought. “I love you, Aedion, but you deserve better than this.”

“Better than what?” he asked, shocked by the words coming out of her mouth.

“Me,” she laughed, humorlessly.

Aedion scooted a few inches closer to her, and reached for her hand, once more. She did not protest.

“You don’t have to do this,” he said, again, his voice quiet. “I would rather wait the rest of my life than spend it with anyone but you.”

A tear slid down Lysandra’s cheek as she palmed Aedion’s. “I would love nothing more than to kiss you, to bed you, to call myself your wife, but I fear that I will never be able to do that without the ghosts of every man I have ever fucked for a petty penny lingering, judging, staring at me with such judgement and hatred….”

Aedion let go of her hand, only to take her face into both of his. He brushed his thumbs over her cheeks, wiping away the dampness. His heart broke at her words, at the ghosts that haunted her. “I have never seen you as a whore, Lysandra, and I never will.” She opened her mouth to speak, but he shook his head. “I am so in love with you. I always have been. You are beautiful, kind, brave, passionate, selfless…I have never met a woman like you, Lys. I will not pretend to know what you have gone through, what baggage you carry, but you must know that I love you, despite your past, your past doesn’t mean a fucking thing to me, not when it comes to my adoration for you.”

“You are too good to me, Aedion-”

“I only tell you what I mean, what I feel,” he said. “What you deserve to be told.”

Her eyes were lit with something Aedion couldn’t quite place, but then she fell into his shoulder, and Aedion’s arm quickly wrapped around her, bringing her in close. They sat like that, in the silence, clinging to one another. Aedion didn’t dare speak, didn’t dare say another word.

So he kept quiet, but his arm stayed wrapped around her, as Lysandra’s head rested snugly against his shoulder.

~~~~~

Rowan entered the house, Aelin close behind. On the ride back to the estate, neither of them had said a word. At first, Aelin attempted to ask questions, but when it was clear that Rowan wasn’t in the talking mood, she remained silent.

His talk with Maeve had set him off. It wasn’t that he was surprised. He expected a visit from Maeve sooner or later, but the words she had spat at him left him in a sober state of mind.

She wanted him to watch everyone he loved die.

She wanted him to suffer, just as she had suffered, thanks to him.

Once they arrived at their estate, Rowan had stomped into the house and up the stairs, into his office. He pulled out a glass and bottle of whiskey. After filling the glass, he sat behind his desk and lit a cigarette, pulling off his jacket. His newsboy hat was discarded on the desk, the razors hidden beneath the bill in full view.

What a life he lived.

Danger. Insecurity. Instability.

It wasn’t a life he wanted to bring a child into, and yet, it was the only life he had. Yes, they had begun to dabble in legal business, but that wasn’t enough to keep them afloat, that wasn’t what had gotten them the spectacular home in which they currently resided.

Aelin had grown up in the same situation, Rhoe dabbling in unlawful dealings, but she deserved better, so much better.

Rowan sighed, in a dream of tobacco and whiskey, and he leaned back in his chair, his eyes closing.

He had to do something.

He wouldn’t let his family die.

But he had no idea what that would be. Killing off Maeve would be too easy. She had a ton of men in her corner, nearly thirty, as Vaughan and Connall had replayed to him earlier that evening. Thirty against his eleven?

He needed more men.

It would be war.

Which was ridiculous, because they were family, he and Maeve. Maeve was his only living relative, and this is how it would end: battle of the fittest, whoever shot first would be the one who defeated the other.

Rowan’s mother would be ashamed.

But he couldn’t think of that now. Now, he had a duty to his men, to his Cadre, to his wife and his unborn child.

That is where his duty lied.

The door to his office was pushed open, and he opened his eyes to meet Aelin’s, hesitantly closing the door behind her. She said nothing, only watched him as she leaned back against the thick oak.

Rowan took the cigarette out of his mouth as he took a long, slow drink from his glass.

“I’d offer you a pour, but it would be bad for the baby,” Rowan said, at last.

Aelin just shook her head. She slowly entered the room, sitting in the chair opposite of his, across his desk. “I wish you would talk to me.”

“There’s nothing to talk about,” he said, simply.

“Bullshit,” she said, but her voice was light. “I’ve known you for some time, Rowan, and I grew up with Rhoe as a father. I know this life, and you are not fooling me.”

Rowan put the cigarette back between his teeth and blew a puff of smoke into the air before he said, “It’s not for you to worry about. Go to bed.”

Aelin’s eyes widened, her lips parting as her perfectly sculpted blonde brows rose. “Are you fucking kidding me? You're my husband, Rowan, of course it’s my fucking business to worry about! Try telling me that again and see where it gets you.”

Rowan sighed, his eyes falling shut, once more. He wasn’t in the mood for fighting. “Go to bed, Aelin.”

“No,” she snapped, through gritted teeth. “Not until you talk to me-”

“I don’t want to talk!” he yelled, his hand hitting the top of his desk with such force that it made Aelin jump.

“Well, I don’t give a damn what you want!” Aelin yelled, after she collected herself. “We’re married now, Ro, and you’ve been keeping shit bottled up, and it’s pissing me off.”

Rowan downed his glass of whiskey before slamming the glass down on his desk. He pushed himself up on his feet and began pacing. Aelin sat, perfectly still, watching.

“Fine, you wanna talk about it?” he said, at last, flicking ash onto the floor. “You wanna fucking talk about it, A? Maeve wants to kill you all, alright? And do you know why? Because of the fucking bullet I put through Arobynn’s head! It’s all my fucking fault!”

Aelin didn’t reply. She wasn’t surprised by the words that spewed from his mouth. Instead, she leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms.

When she said nothing, Rowan went on, “I’ve put you all in jeopardy. All of you. The Cadre, you, the baby-” His words fell off, and he covered his mouth. Then, he cursed, loudly and brutally, taking the cigarette between his fingers. “It’s my fault. It’s my fucking fault.”

“Ro-”

“You, the baby, I’ve put you in danger-”

“Rowan-”

“I can’t...I can’t fucking-”

“Ro!”

He stopped pacing, meeting her gaze with green eyes full of pure hatred, pure distress. “What?”

“Breathe,” she said, simply. He took a deep breath, shaking his head as he sat back down in his chair. “You don’t have to do this alone.”

“I’m the leader,” he said, simply.

“So, what?” she asked, leaning across his desk. “Ro, we’re in this together, okay? You don’t have to do this alone.”

But Rowan remained quiet, folding his hands on top of his desktop. He blew out smoke into the silence, the cigarette parked between his teeth.

She gave him a moment as he thought it over. There was a lot to think over, after all. Maeve’s visit had him on edge, had his hands shaking, his mind reeling. She had shaken him up, which was surely her intention. Yet, he couldn’t help but let her get to him.

“I’m scared,” he admitted, at last, refusing to meet Aelin’s eyes. “Worried. For you, for the baby.”

“I know,” Aelin breathed.

“I don’t know what to do,” he continued, pulling the cigarette from his mouth. “I don’t know how to make things right. Maeve, her men, they’re out for us, A.”

Aelin said nothing as her worried eyes met his. Rowan just shook his head, slowly. “I’m the leader of this fucking thing, and I don’t know how to make it right.”

“You don’t have to know-”

“Yes, I do!” he yelled, and Aelin went silent. “It’s my fucking job to know! And I don’t, okay? I don’t know what to do! I don’t know how to keep us all safe, and I don’t know the right thing to say!” Rowan took the cigarette and put it out in the ashtray on his desk. His face fell into his hands. “We’re all going to suffer. And, I don’t know how to stop it.”

Aelin’s eyes softened as she stood from her chair and came around his side of the desk. Rowan didn’t move as she came up behind him and wrapped her slender around him, her lips pressing into the side of his cheek.

“You’re not alone, Ro,” she whispered.

Rowan appreciated the gesture, but he felt like he was alone, felt like he was the face of this battle. He was the one that had killed Arobynn, after all. It was necessary, of course, but it had caused quite the reaction.

Which was to be expected, he supposed, even if it was delayed, two years later.

There was no winning solution.

“I want you to stay here, at all times, unless someone else is with you,” he said, at last, keeping his voice quiet.

Aelin looked as if she wanted to protest, but didn’t. “Okay,” she said, at last.

Rowan nodded, taking her face into his hands. “I won’t put you in harm’s way.”

Aelin nodded, smiling as comforting as she could, although Rowan felt no comfort at all.

He had to make this right.

Had to find a way to protect them all.

Because Maeve was right about one thing.

If any of them died, their blood would be on his hands.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@mariamuses @garnet-29 @writer-reader-traveller @rowaelin-cressworth @space-buns-arsinoe @negativenesta @empress-ofbloodshed @the-regal-warrior @starseternalnighttriumphant @westofmoon @sammyjojaaaa @theoverlyenthusiasticwriter @carbconnoisseur @acer6437 @lorcansalvatearupmyheart @cool-ish-nerd @mynewdreamwasyou @mourning-razorlust @thespiritualrider @rowaelinforeverworld @didsomeonesayviolin @gloriouspaintercreatorbandit @yeah-just-ignore-me-thanks @queen-of-glass @the-dark-swan @http-itsrebecca @holdingon-21@babycardan @tswaney17 @mollycateoc @chemicha @bat-wing-rhys @exersize-me-i-dare-u @thespiritualrider @luna-the-little @morebooks-pls @shyvioletcat @hermajestyanna @a97girl @stardustsroses @queenofthemoon22 @alifletcher2012 @awkward-avocado-s @faerie-queen-fireheart @cwheart @lovemollywho @emilyrose111294 @nerdperson524 @sleeping-and-books @cursebreaker29 @flora-and-fae @feyrethedarklady @the-dark-swan @rowaelinforeverworld @sjmsstuff @januarystears @mis-lil-red @acourtofmoonlight @rowaelinforeverworld @courtofmaasdestruction @jjellybean @thewayshedreamed @wind-drinker @aelin-rowan-whitehorn @starseternalnighttriumphant @hurema @http-itsrebecca @lorcansalvatearupmyheart @cityofchelsea16 @januarystears @iliketoasterstrudels @lightitup-bryce @yikesitsmaddie @feyrethedarklady @i-love-all-books @keshavomit @sleeping-and-books @scarznstars @http-itsrebecca @cat5313 @moondancer-204 @booklover242 @belamoonbeam @they-call-me-cuatro @b00kworm @mu-si-ca-l @thegayerpotato @abraxos-is-toothless @keshavomit @musicdreamer003 @superspiritfestival @sailorsassley @mymultiversee @alxanxah @viviaannvu123 @mysweetvillain @theghostlyharrypooperfan @highqueenofelfhame @shyvioletcat @maastrash @thewayshedreamed @wifeofchrishemsworth @loveofbooksandwine @mu-si-ca-l @rosalineroses @l0sts0uls1128

#tacmc ITBMW #tog #fanfic #rowaelin #elorcan #lysaedion

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whocalledhimannux · 4 years ago

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Title: The Path is There. Follow It. Chapter: 3/4 Pairing: Kamet/Costis Chapter Summary: In this chapter, Attolia goes to war.

(spoilery-of-the-fic discussion of this chapter beneath the cut)

around the same time I came up with the idea for this au, I saw a tumblr post [that for the LIFE of me I can’t find now] about how, as much as Costis hiding Kamet in the mountains saved Kamet, it probably saved Costis more, because otherwise you know damn well he would have died protecting Eugenides either at the cairn or at Naupent, and let me tell you. I struggled with this. because this was true, and I couldn’t escape the cairn idea specifically, and I also knew there would be some prime Kamet angst at Costis’s death, but like... could I really be that mean? like they just had all that damn heartache and I get them together for one night (and originally Kamet was going to stay in the palace so it would literally be one night) and then I kill Costis off permanently?

I dithered. and then I was flipping through TaT looking for a particular reference, and MWT metaphorically reached through the pages and was like “hey, remember how I constantly drew comparisons between Costis and a character who literally went to the land of Death and came back? you can have your cake and eat it too, and it’s not even a cop-out--it’s an homage.”

And then, of course, the best option is to have Kamet there for some reason, because that’s more emotional than him finding out after the fact that Costis supposedly died. But I gotta confess, I really really liked that idea of the “my love is going off to war” scene, and all the allusions to Legarus sneaking through the palace to visit his higher-status lover in RotT made me really want to see Costis doing the same. So I just threw in “idk, Kamet’s in some kind of danger at the palace so he joins the caravan last minute,” and then I was like “wait, that needs to actually be supported somehow” and that’s why this fic is four chapters and 35,000 words long instead of being a 10k oneshot.

Literally. None of the spy subplot was in my original outline.

Also, fun side note: of the 107 fics I’ve published to AO3, this is the ONLY one where I’ve selected “Creator Chooses Not to Use Archive Warnings.” I think this chapter makes it clear why.

#kamet #costis #my fic #queen's thief #return of the thief #return of the thief spoilers #rott spoilers

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thevioletscout · 4 years ago

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Erato - OC Meme

(I’m doing this with all three of my Dragonborns in my AU. I borrowed this template from @skyrim-drabbles-n-stuff .)

Basics:

Birth Name: Erato Nyrvu

Other Known Titles: Hero of Kvatch, Champion of Cyrodiil, Dragonborn, The Gray Fox, Listener, Savior of the Dark Brotherhood, Thane of The Rift, Qahnaarin

Race: Bosmer/Lich

Gender: Female

Date of Birth: 12th of Sun’s Dawn, 3E 409

Birthsign: The Lover

Occupation: Adventurer, Assassin, Vampire Hunter, Thief

Appearance:

Face Claim: AnnaSophia Robb

Height: 5′6″

Weight: 129.4 lbs

Body Type: Petite, nimble

Eyes: Red (formerly), Silver

Hair: Light Ginger, upper back length, wavy, keeps one part of her hair braided around the front

Demeanor: Stand-offish, unfriendly

Hand Dominance: Right-Handed

Personality:

Alignment: True Neutral

Strengths: Determined, intelligent, romantic, caring, courageous, loyal

Flaws: Stubborn, naïve, hot-headed, spiteful, impulsive, submissive

Motivation: To survive

Hindrance: Naivety

Likes: Gold, flowers, bones, her family, pleasing voices

Dislikes: Being talked down to, being threatened, arrogance, imprisonment, the soul cairn, spiders (she had a rough time being around Lis)

Biggest Fears: Having nobody in the end

Soft Spot: Martin Septim, Miraak, family, children

Skills and Combat:

Class: Assassin

Weapon of Choice: Daggers, sparks

Secondary Weapon: Swords, conjuring

Master: Destruction, One-Handed, Light Armor

Expert: Archery, Sneak, Lockpicking, Speech

Journeyman: Conjuration, Enchanting, Heavy Armor, Pickpocket

Apprentice: Alchemy

Novice: Restoration

Inept: Illusion, Alteration, Smithing, Block, Two-Handed

Other skills/hobbies: Horseback riding, assassination, foraging, parkour

#TES #The Elder Scrolls #Elder Scrolls #Skyrim #Oblivion #Erato Nyrvu #Dovahkiin #Dragonborn #lbd #Hero of Kvatch #Champion of Cyrodiil #OC Meme #OC Bio #my post

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novaeagle · 5 years ago

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Death has graced you with his presence

I can’t photoshop the Trust Picture but I really wanted to make one of these ;-;

Selection: “Let our enemies tremble at our footsteps.”

Casimir is a very aggressive, but wise Tank. He is fiercely protective of the Healer, and trusts the DPS to do the Mechanics of a boss fight he can’t do while he clears a path for them.

Weapons: Shivas Diamond Breaker

Passives: Casimirs Tank stance is called “God-like Aura”, and can sometimes be seen when doing big pulls as a small aura of ice around him. “VoidStalker” is a passive buff to allies damage when fighting Voidsent beings by 25%, and a buff of 10% when dealing with other Aetherical enemies like Lightwardens or magically created beasts. “True Memory” gives the party a shield negating 25% of all damage for 30 seconds when an ally goes down and stacks for multiple deaths.

AI Behavior:

Casimir will always ensure his party is ready to go, and focuses on keeping his healer alive. If the Healer is a PC, Casimir will start out pulling slow, but will gradually pull bigger and bigger as the dungeon progresses. If the Healer is Urianger or the Exarch, Casimir will pull as big as he can, trusting the two to keep up. When pulling into a boss fight, Casimir always keeps an eye on the Healer, and will only pull when their MP is at full capacity. While idle, he’ll either cross his arms and stare at the next ad/boss, or pull out his icicle blade and lean on it. Once the Healers MP is full, he’ll glance at them once then attack.

If during a big pull, he begins loosing agro to the Healer or the DPS, he’ll immediately disengage whichever enemy he was attacking and launch Unmend at the target. He uses GCD AOE attacks a lot at the start of big pulls, and will usually cast a few Quietus attacks to ensure max AOE Damage output and Agro gain. He will then focus on the ad doing the most damage, Reprising it and beginning to attack it. He’s very aggressive, and very risky, staying within AOE’s and shielding himself with Dark Mind to negate the damage and receive the Blood Weapon buff.

Casimirs Souleater Combo is replaced with a four-hit sword skill combo. The first being a cone slash attack, the second places a Vulnerability on the single target until the end of the combo, the third regens MP and the fourth regens HP. The attacks are also very showy, usually being wielded as if the blade weighed less than usual with lots of stabs and feints. His drawn weapon running style is also different, he holds it backwards down by his side, almost akin to how a Samurai has his Katana.

Casimirs has multiple different Shades, but is only able to call them out at certain times and only one at a time. “Compassion” takes the form of an Au ra female, and is called out near the beginning of Dungeons and with medium pulls and most bosses. Casimirs AI is very friendly to this Shade, sometimes seen blowing it kisses if it is still out after a fight. “Ferocity” takes the form of a female Miqo’te, and is called out when fighting sea based ads or sea based dungeons. “Ferocity” can also appear when fighting Voidsent beings, and Casimirs attitude towards it is almost fatherly, shouting words of encouragement and waving to it after a fight. “Intimidation” takes the form of a Giant Highlander, and is taken out in desperate situations. “Intimidation” can only be summoned when “True Memory” is active, and lasts for about a minute. This Shade is different from the rest as it follows Casimir around, staying by his side and attacking the ad that is doing second most damage to him, and even taking hits for him as well. No other Shade is able to take hits or Agro from Casimir except “Intimidation”. “Desperation” is very rare, and takes the form of a tall, skinny Elezen. This Shade will follow the Healer around, and gives a buff to its Healing abilities and MP regeneration. “Desperation” is summoned usually after “Intimidation”, and can only be summoned if it is Casimir and the Healer. If Casimir goes down while “Desperation” is summoned, he is instantly Revived next to the Shade with no debuffs and full health. After reviving Casimir, “Desperation” will immediately leave.

Casimir uses his Shields and Cooldowns wisely, casting Dark Mind as much as he can during pulls, and waiting for a Tank Buster with Bosses. Reprisal is also used as much as possible in big pulls, and only before a room wide attack or Tank Buster with Bosses. Casimir will also almost never cast LB, and will usually call out to a Melee DPS to cast the LB.

Battle Lines:

“You are weak!” -Usually said when casting Reprisal, or when facing against Voidsent beings.

“Life is pain, consider this my only mercy” -Usually said after killing an enemy.

“Had me worried there for a second, Doc!”/”You never cease to amaze me with your healing skills...” -Said when his health drops below 10K during a fight, and he doesn’t have to pop Living Dead.

“I DIE ONLY WHEN THE GODS WILL IT!” -Yelled when he casts Living Dead.

“Why are you running? WHY are you RUNNING?!” / “GET BACK HERE!” / “Don’t touch them!” / I am your ONLY enemy here, not them!” -Said when chasing down an enemy that he’s lost agro to.

Death:

“Valhalla awaits me....”

“Father... were you proud of me?....”

“Finally... I can rest...”

Revival:

“Ah... back again I see.”

“The Light lives in ALL things...”

“DAMNIT! Again?!”

“Forgive me my love, I was careless.” -Said when revived by “Desperation”.

Ally Death:

“YOU’LL PAY FOR THAT!!”

“Forgive me friend... I was not able to protect you...”

“NO! I won’t loose anyone else!”

“I am... Desperate...” / “I won’t let them hurt you!”-Summoning “Desperation”.

LB:

“You will not hurt my friends!” -All LB.

Victory:

“Let them hear this in Valhalla, and rejoice in the sacrifice we have given!”

“Damn... not a bad start to your Cairn, eh?” / “Haha! A glorious fight and a glorious fighter by my side to share it with!” -To PC DPS.

“We couldn’t have done it without you!” / “I won’t forget what you’ve done for me.” -To PC Healer

“Let the Bards sing our names in praise, and our enemies wail our names with fear!”

“You think the Tavern will give us free drinks for this?...”

Others:

Casimir is very friendly towards most of the Scions. If Y’Shtola is with him, he will flirt with her a lot during fights, and compliment her clothes or hair at the beginning of the dungeon. During lulls in the battle, he’ll also throw out some corny pickup lines about battle. Casimir will talk to Y’Shtola the most out of all the others. If Alisaie or Alphinaud is with him, he will call out encouragement, and compliment them after fights. With Alisaie he throws out lots of uplifting statements, usually saying he’s glad to have her with him, or that he couldn’t think of any other Red Mage he’d rather have by his side. With Alphiaud, he does much the same, but in a teasing manner, usually along the lines of a Politician or Scholar knowing how to fight. With Ryne he’s fatherly as well, but mentions Thancred in a good light a lot and stating how he had taught her well. Urianger gets a lot of Star related jokes, and before the start Casimir will usually ask him how the stars align for this dungeon. There’s a rare death voice line where he asks Urianger to create a new constellation of him. The Exarch gets flirted with a lot, but most of it is teasing... or so the Exarch hopes. Before battles, Casimir will pose before the Exarch, or blow him kisses and laugh.

#TRUST MEME #Casimir Moreau #CASIMIR #FFXIV OC #FFXIV RP #FINAL FANTASY XIV ROLEPLAY #FINAL FANTASY XIV OC #FINAL FANTASY ROLEPLAY #final fantasy oc #FFXIV DRK #FFXIV TRUST #TRUST

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daily-best-jokes · 5 years ago

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Everything you need to know about Australia

I REALLY hope these are true

These were posted on an Australian Tourism Website and the answers are the actual responses by the website officials, who obviously have a great sense of humour (not to mention a low tolerance threshold for stupid questions!)

__________________________________________________ Q: Does it ever get windy in Australia ? I have never seen it rain on TV, how do the plants grow? ( UK).

A: We import all plants fully grown and then just sit around watching them die. __________________________________________________

Q: Will I be able to see kangaroos in the street? ( USA )

A:Depends how much you've been drinking. __________________________________________________

Q:I want to walk from Perth to Sydney - can I follow the railroad tracks? ( Sweden )

A: Sure, it's only three thousand miles, take lots of water. __________________________________________________

Q: Are there any ATMs (cash machines) in Australia ? Can you send me a list of them in Brisbane , Cairns , Townsville and Hervey Bay ? ( UK )

A: What did your last slave die of? __________________________________________________

Q:Can you give me some information about hippo racing in Australia ? ( USA )

A: A-Fri-ca is the big triangle shaped continent south of Europe . Aus-tra-lia is that big island in the middle of the Pacific which does not ... Oh forget it. Sure, the hippo racing is every Tuesday night in Kings Cross. Come naked. __________________________________________________

Q:Which direction is North in Australia ? ( USA )

A: Face south and then turn 180 degrees. Contact us when you get here and we'll send the rest of the directions. _________________________________________________

Q: Can I bring cutlery into Australia ? ( UK ) A:Why? Just use your fingers like we do... __________________________________________________

Q:Can you send me the Vienna Boys' Choir schedule? ( USA )

A: Aus-tri-a is that quaint little country bordering Ger-man-y, which is Oh forget it. Sure, the Vienna Boys Choir plays every Tuesday night in Kings Cross, straight after the hippo races. Come naked. __________________________________________________

Q: Can I wear high heels in Australia ? ( UK ) A: You are a British politician, right? __________________________________________________

Q:Are there supermarkets in Sydney and is milk available all year round? ( Germany )

A: No, we are a peaceful civilization of vegan hunter/gatherers. Milk is illegal. __________________________________________________

Q:Please send a list of all doctors in Australia who can dispense rattlesnake serum. ( USA )

A: Rattlesnakes live in A-meri-ca which is where YOU come from.. All Australian snakes are perfectly harmless, can be safely handled and make good pets. __________________________________________________

Q:I have a question about a famous animal in Australia , but I forget its name. It's a kind of bear and lives in trees. ( USA )

A: It's called a Drop Bear. They are so called because they drop out of Gum trees and eat the brains of anyone walking underneath them. You can scare them off by spraying yourself with human urine before you go out walking. __________________________________________________

Q:I have developed a new product that is the fountain of youth. Can you tell me where I can sell it in Australia ? (USA )

A: Anywhere significant numbers of Americans gather. __________________________________________________

Q:Do you celebrate Christmas in Australia ? ( France )

A: Only at Christmas. __________________________________________________

Q: Will I be able to speak English most places I go? ( USA )

A: Yes, but you'll have to learn it first

submitted by /u/letsreddit246 [link] [comments]

#jokes #fun #humor #joke #funny jokes #funny #lol #texts #funny texts #haha

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ruby-grapefruit · 5 years ago

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The Erilean Empire | Chapter 2

AU: The Vlag never came to discover their world. Maeve and her three Kings stayed trapped in their dark realm, never knowing the terror and near destruction they could have caused in the land in which a fire-bringer lived. Though their darkness stayed away, the greed of men could never be truly staunched. True peace is only a figment of the imagination. War shattered Erilea anyways and without the might of the Wyrdkey to strengthen the Kingdom of Terrasen, the King of Adarlan and his armies swept across the land, invading Melisande and Fenharrow. Only the combined might of Terrasen and Eyllwe managed to keep them at bay. Yet fighting a war on two borders could only be sustained for so long and Eyllwe has at last fallen to the might of Adarlan. Only the Aelin, the fire-bringer, stands a chance of stopping the King and uniting Erilea.

A/N I had this idea for a rowaelin AU and I just had to start writing. I’d love to hear what y'all think so far.

FF.Net & A3O

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

Rating: Mature

“The King paused and looked over his shoulder at her. She smiled, a wicked, wild thing.” – Sarah J Maas, Assassin’s Blade

Soft and cooling, the wind rushed through her lace nightgown sending a cascade of shivers across her skin.

Ahead the ocean spread wide across the horizon, its reflection twinkling in the morning sun. She dipped down towards it; fingers splayed wide as she trailed a hand through its smooth surface.

Laughing at the freedom of it, she twirled, golden hair spinning outwards. In a smooth arch she lifted upwards, towards the sun, enjoying the warm touch of its hands on her bare skin, its pressure sending tingles up her spine and with a delighted shout she—

Launching herself upwards off the bed, Aelin clutched a knife between bone white fingers.

Blinking quickly, she groaned as she beheld the frightened maid whose small hands were up in the air at the foot of her bed. Behind her stood a second maid carrying a tray of steaming food.

“Sorry princess!” The first maid apologized nervously, “You have to be at the signing of the treaty in two hours. We’re here to help you get ready.”

Falling backwards Aelin sighed and brought the heels of her palms to her eyes,

“Ugghhh.” She groaned, “I’ll be up in a minute. Can you start a bath? And leave the food please!”

“Yes, Highness!” the first maid curtsied before she shuffled away.

Once they were around the corner the second maid began giggling and Aelin couldn’t help but smile as she chastised her friend, “I told you that would happen if you tried to wake her!”

Despite the grim events of the day, Aelin felt lighter. She’d dreamed she was flying again.

These dreams had been gracing her since she was a child and regardless of their peculiarity, they always seemed to make her feel better. Alive.

It was a gift, in fact, for the dream to arrive the night before the treaty signing. Though she wasn’t Queen yet, she’d have to make an appearance. And since the most important agreement in the treaty was the engagement of herself with prince Dorian, Emperor Havilliard and King Galathynius had agreed that they should both sign as well.

Two weeks.

It had been two weeks since she’d agreed to go along with Orlon’s plan, and they had yet to sit down and discuss the intricacies of what her ‘mission’ would entail. She’d been waiting and waiting for the opportunity, eager to have something else to put her heart and soul into. But Orlon had been busy.

Instead, unable to avoid it, Aelin had spent the last two weeks mourning. She’d mourned Ren, she mourned the soldiers she’d killed, and though she didn’t dare admit it, she mourned for herself.

Sighing she made her way out of bed and allowed the maids to help prepare her for the day.

Not a second sooner, she was out the door and striding down the hall in strong, confident strides.

Aelin’s hair was wrapped around her head in large braid. Small bits curled to frame her slender face. Her makeup had been done subtly, only enough to emphasize her unnatural Fae beauty. Her pointed ears arched delicately beneath the braid.

Though she didn’t often utilize her Fae form she couldn’t help but appreciate the grace, and frankly, royal appearance it gave her.

She was dressed in a floor-length gown of various shades of green, starting from an almost white at her collar bone and fading to an almost black down at her feet. It was fitted across her torso before softening to an elegant flowing material at her waist. Embroidered along its entire length was a gold thread forming various branches and leaves. She wore no jewelry apart from the small crown gracing her head. On its peak a beautiful green emerald twinkled.

“You look nice.” Aedion said, as he met her just outside.

Though neither of them wanted to acknowledge it, their relationship had been strained during the past two weeks. He tried to hide it, but sometimes she found Aedion staring at her hands, and she wondered if he too saw the blood she couldn’t seem to wash away.

Aelin glanced at him quickly and raised an eyebrow.

He was wearing his decorative armor, the gold pieces strapped across his chest, arms, and legs, shining in the morning light as he walked.

“So do you.”

“Special occasion, you know.” He grinned, cocking his head to the side.

She looked away before he caught her eye.

That was one thing she couldn’t seem to do anymore. His eyes held too much of his heart and she didn’t let dare allow herself to see just how deeply she’d failed him.

“Mhm… Special, riiight. That damned Empire making so much fuss.” She mumbled incoherently.

Aedion grabbed her arm harshly, his grip tight, as he pulled her up to him and forced her to look into his eyes. They sparked with frustration.

“Aelin…” He warned, his voice low, coming out roughly between his clenched jaw. “Be careful what you say in front of the Emperor. We’re walking on thin ice here. Everyone just wants this to be over!”

Hissing, Aelin spun, glaring up at his stern face, “I know Aedion! Don’t you think I know that! I’m the one that has to marry that killer’s son so that we can all move on!”

“If you know how important it is then why are you saying things like that!” He almost shouted, before catching himself and lowering his voice to just above a whisper, “There are eyes everywhere!”

“I know how politics works!”

“Well then, think before you speak! You’re going to have to live in his house soon! You better learn how to keep your mouth shut or else you’re going to be killed.”

“Heh... They can try.”

“Aelin! This is serious.” He urged.

Sighing, she pinched the bridge of her nose, and closed her eyes briefly, “I know. It’s just, don’t you think I understand all that’s riding on me… I don’t know what I was thinking.”

Aedion took a deep breath before stepping back from her, “Sorry for snapping at you. I guess we’re all just a little tense.”

She forced a small smile to her lips, as they began walking again, “You don’t say.”

He tried to laugh lightly, but it was forced. They fell into silence and neither said a word the rest of the way.

Outside the small keep that they’d been residing in the past two weeks, Aelin and Aedion found horses awaiting them and the rest of their party.

A group of the kings’ advisors who Aelin had never bothered to remember the names of were already waiting in the courtyard. King Orlon and Lord Darrow didn’t take long to join them on their own horses. Gavriel, Aedion’s father, was the last to arrive. He nodded to Aelin as he mounted his own horse, and they at last rode out of the gates and began to make their way back towards the desiccated battlefield.

Her mother had been invited to come as well, as a representative for her late father, but had decided to stay in Orynth. She was much more helpful there anyways as they’d been an influx of delegates from across the world arriving to join in the festivities of the upcoming wedding, now only two months away.

That had been one of the conditions of the treaty, not only had they agreed to marry, but they’d even selected a date and begun preparations in Rifthold. She’d be leaving for Rifthold in month. Aelin tried her best to forget that, forget that she’d be leaving her home for only the gods know how long.

She knew her mother was better off staying in Orynth, anyways. Aelin didn’t doubt that her mother and aunt, Aedion’s mother, were having a great time with the Wendlyn and Doranelle delegates that had arrived two weeks ago. She’d heard that the Faery Queen Sellene Whitethorn herself was here, and hoped she’d brought along Endymion.

When her parents had sent to Doranelle two years after the beginning of the war she’d been trained by Enda. During the two years she spent prowling the mountains and fields of Doranelle they’d grown close and she considered him like an older brother.

They hadn’t seen each other since she was 17, when she’d come back home in an effort to help the war effort after her father had been killed. Stabbed through the back on the battlefield by the Emperor’s favorite Fae dog, Cairn.

Rumor had it, that he’d been the one to train Dorian. And Aelin’s blood turned cold at the thought.

Straightening her back she banished all thoughts and looked to the large tent that had been set up in the middle of the barren land.

When they entered the tent, Gavriel hovering over King Orlon’s shoulder and Aedion hovering over her own, the Emperor was already comfortably seated and sipping on a glass of wine.

Aelin’s eyes narrowed and she felt Aedion tense up behind her as Prince Dorian’s sapphire eyes swung to her immediately. When he noticed her gaze, his lips curled into a brutal, coy smile, that only made her frown deepen.

It took Gavriel giving her a stern look from across the room for her to reign in her emotions. She plastered a fake smile across lips, which seemed to only make Dorian’s smile widen, his eyes twinkling.

Distracted by Dorian, it took her a second to notice the other set of eyes that hovered across her face.

Cairn.

Struggling internally, she barely stopped the snarl that attempted to escape her lips as she noticed him sitting just behind Dorian.

Cairn leaned forwards, placing a hand on Dorian’s shoulder, and whispered something in his ear. Frowning lightly, Dorian nodded, before he tore his gaze from hers and began to assess the rest of their party.

Aelin took the seat to Orlon’s right, as Darrow took the one to the left.

“Welcome Majesty!” The Emperor grinned. Raising his glass, he gestured to the troupe of servants who hovered at the edges of the tent, “Refreshments?”

Nodding, Orlon lifted his hand as Darrow did the same, “Thank you.”

Around the party, advisors received glasses filled to the brim with wine. At their satisfied smiles, Aelin couldn’t help but wonder if this was all just a party for them.

After everyone had been serviced in wine and food, everyone except herself, Aedion, Gavriel and it seemed Dorian, the Emperor raised an arm to silence the room.

“Shall we get to the official stuff?” His voice was deep and boisterous. Despite his large rotund body and big smile, Aelin sensed an altogether different kind of creature prowled beneath his skin.

Some might mistake his dark eyes to be warm and inviting but their lack of colour speared right to her bones. Shivering she tried to keep her body relaxed as the emperor smiled and all Aelin saw was a blindingly cruel curl across his lips.

To her right, she saw Orlon give her a quick glance, before he put down his wine glass, now almost empty. “Yes, let’s bring out the treaty.”

“I had my advisors prepare a new copy, special for the occasion.” The Emperor explained as he waved over one of the advisors in the back of the room, “Why don’t you take a quick read, before we begin.”

A mousy advisor bowed before King Orlon, before presenting him with a large piece of paper.

Even from afar, Aelin couldn’t help but appreciate the quality of the paper and penmanship of the treaty as Orlon glanced down the sheet.

“Aelin.” Orlon said, as he passed her the treaty.

Though she already knew the majority of the agreements to which King Orlon was agreeing to she read through the treaty again:

All parties hereby agree to uphold the following agreements:

The formal union of the Erilean Empire and the Kingdom of Terresan through the marriage of Crown Prince Dorian Havilliard and Crown Princess Aelin Galathynius.

Until Aelin Galathynius takes her place as Queen of Terresan she will be considered a princess of the Erilean Empire as well as the Kingdom of Terresan.

Once Aelin Galathynius takes the throne of Terresan, formal nationhood will be dissolved and Terresan will join the Erilean Empire.

Until point 3 takes place the following regulations will be placed upon the Kingdom of Terrasen…

All new trading routes and partners must be approved by the Erilean Empire.

Every year a predetermined rate will be paid to the Erilean Empire, payment types include jewels, gold, cattle, wheat, etc…

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The Erilean Empire agrees to comply to the following regulations:

To provide land, air and sea protection to the Kingdom of Terresan.

To allow ease of access for Terresan citizens to all regions within the Empire.

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Should any of the previous agreements fail to be upheld immediate physical force will be authorized upon the party at fault.

Aelin handed back the form to Orlon, refusing to meet his gaze. Though she didn’t dare voice it she knew they’d conceded much, much more to the Empire than many would approve. Swallowing shallowly, she tried not to think about how they’d been forced to this because of her. Only the thought of her task kept her grounded. A task she refused to think too deeply of in the presence of the enemy.

You never know who might be listening in, a lesson she’d been imparted by Enda.

The Emperor was the first to sign. Then Dorian before it went to King Orlon, who after signing, passed the paper to her.

She held the thick material in her hands, fingers resting lightly on the surface. Reaching forwards, she grabbed the pen being presented, lowered her hand and—hesitated.

Across the room the gazes of everyone settled onto her, heavy and burning.

Aelin took a deep breath. Then another. The fate of her country was residing heavily on her shoulders. It was up to her. Exhaling deeply, she leaned forwards and hovered the tip of the pen above the sheet, right below King Orlon’s name.

Unthinking, she glanced upward. Looking for a friendly face? A soft gaze? She met Dorian’s ice-blue eyes. The side of his lips curled upwards as he saw her terror. Reveled in the fear she stuffed deep inside at the thought of failing her family, her friends and her people.

Her face twisted as she locked gazes with him. She smiled a wicked, crazed smile. And with flourish and a wild look on her face, Aelin signed the treaty.

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