#unless they are specifically killed or replace by the new King

[sunderwight]

Thinking about a scenario where (pre-Plot Happening) Mobei Jun and Shang Qinghua have a tiff, and Shang Qinghua goes back to his peak and honestly he isn't trying to make MBJ apologize first or anything, he just gets so busy that he doesn't have time to grovel (kind of forgets they had an argument in the first place because it's not like MBJ is going to kill him YET unless he does something really egregious, they're on a schedule), but Mobei Jun is just fuming in his ice palace like "that asshole thinks I can't replace him, I can absolutely replace him, he's sooo replaceable" and etc.

So Mobei Jun tries it. He's going to hire himself another evil advisor. Another groveling rat minion. Maybe a dozen groveling rat minions! He's a demon king, these sorts of people are not hard to find. They can't all be working for his shitstain uncle!

And they aren't, of course. Finding a minion who is loyal to Mobei Jun (well, relatively) rather than any of his rivals actually isn't that hard. Mobei Jun is the most promising demon strength-wise of his generation, he's the direct heir, and he's less absent from court than his father and less treacherous and scheme-y than his uncle. There's a whole crowd he appeals to, who serve him readily and have no motive to turn on him.

But.

Turns out that there is a specific combination of traits which Shang Qinghua brought to the table, and none of his new groveling sycophants have it. The ones who are the best at sucking up also tend to be the worst at having actual skills. The ones who are good at their assigned tasks don't have much of an interest in complimenting his tits or telling him this or that cloak really brings out his eyes. The ones who do tell him those kinds of things also keep turning up in his bed, which is unwelcome and annoying. No one can offer him nebulous sort-of-prophetic insights to the goings-on of his realm either, or if they try to, they turn out to be hacks and charlatans with woefully low accuracy rates. A lot of them just outright lie to try and manipulate him against their rivals or enemies.

Within a week Mobei Jun is frazzled, exhausted, and finally ready to apologize.

He shows up on An Ding Peak and slaps Shang Qinghua across the face. The most self-debasing sign of desire that he can extend. Open palm and everything. He's practically on his knees begging Shang Qinghua for forgiveness (he's not actually, though, after all he's still extremely arrogant demon royalty).

Several years into the future, Shang Qinghua will dimly recollect the incident after actually learning about demon courtship customs (he wrote them, doesn't mean he was actually paying attention to them) and ask what that was about, and Mobei Jun will have a Hollywood style PTSD flashback both to that and to the second time he and SQH had a big fight and SQH left, and not properly answer him.

[clowncryptids]

Im turning my fave Lioden lions into ocs bec I can... here's my main's king <3

Here they are... my beloved purple and pink lion <333

Ive been obsessing over some of my faves from my pride and coming up with fun backstories for them, Willow is the first one who received this treatment... fair since I have spent just soooo much time and beetles on this fawkin cat. I still havent gotten all the markings I want for him oughhhhh T-T

I tried to stay as close as possible to his in game colors and markings though I added a few things, specifically some extra stripes to her face bec it looked boring... maybe I will get him a thrashed face marking .... some day.... its not on the top of the markings I want list....

Anywaysss below is the backstory I came up with for him! I am not at all following what happened in game bec saying "She was bought for 500 SB and I proceeded to replace my old king with them" is boringgggg

Flowering Willow is the 3rd King of the Flowering Pride!

Originally named Chalk, Flowering Willow originated from a much more desolate land, and was born to a pride with a kill or be killed kind of nentality, which Chalk had never bought into. As an adolescent they left to find a better life and pride for themselves. She eventually reached the Flowering Pridelands, an abundant land filled with wild flowering plants and plenty of prey, a place that was almost the complete opposite from his birth home. Chalk was found on the territory by the Flowering Pride's submale (and the king's mate) Birch, who, to Chalk's surprise, happily invited him to stay as long as she needed.

While staying with the pride, Chalk was shaken by the hospitality and kindness of the majority of the Pride members, and they felt that they had finally found others who shared their preference for kindness over violence, which had been a rare trait to come across in Chalk's old home. Chalk felt that she had finally found her home, but they worried that they would not be welcome forever as a king can only care for so many submales. However the King of the pride, a primal named Mangrove Flower, saw great leadership potential in Chalk, and Mangrove had been looking for the prefect heir as he knew he would not be able to lead forever. So Mangrove asked Chalk if he wished to stay in the pride permanently and become Mangrove's heir. Chalk was shocked at this not expecting to be allowed to stay let alone made a heir, but they excepted, happy to serve the pride for the rest of his life. As an official Flowering Pride member, their name was changed to a proper (plant themed) pride name, Willow!

Mangrove Flower sadly passed on early (in gameplay i retired him early lol) and so Willow became the King sooner than she had expected. During their Kinging ceremony, they were named Flowering Willow, a change from the previous kings' names receiving Flower after their original names. This was requested by Mangrove Flower before he died and he believed that Willow becoming king would be the beginning of a new peaceful and stable era for the pride, and he believed that the change to the naming tradition would be symbolic of this.

-----

Overall Flowering Willow is a very kind and calm lion, he prioritizes kindness and fairness over all things and tries to make any lion he comes across (in his pride or not) feel safe and not threatened.... That is unless the lion (or any other creature for that matter) makes themself a threat, because then Willow will not hold back in fighting to protect his pride and territory. Willow though seeming soft and like not much of a fighter is actually every good at battle due to where he grew up and also thanks to Mangrove Flower and Birch's training.

Willow viewed Mangrove and Birch as surrogate fathers, and he was devastated by Mangrove's death. He is extremally close to Birch and deeply appreciates Birch's aid and advice when it comes to leadership.

I havent decided if he has any actual mates, of course he has sired cubs but I havent decided if he is romantically involved with anyone hmmm...

[wonilye]

kingmaker | p.sh

prev | masterlist | next

CHAPTER V

As an assassin working for the Hwangs, you have proven your loyalty to your benefactors for more than a decade. But when Lady Hwang's plans for a rebellion land you in a bride selection for the Crown Prince, you find yourself at a loss. Unfamiliar with the ways of the gentry, your reliance on a previously unknown informant is your only source of hope. And yet, you learn very quickly that no one in high society can be trusted, including yourself. Because who else but you is there to assassinate the King?

WARNING: mentions of blood, killing and death in this chapter (no one dies here). please do check the masterlist for potential triggers/themes you feel uncomfortable with!

You rise early the next morning - if you ever slept at all, that is. Your slumber was anything but peaceful, your troubling thoughts keeping your eyes open long past the ungodly hours.

But how could you fall asleep, with an iron scent lingering in your nose, and the jagged cut in your hand still stinging? Park Sunghoon, your only ally. Simultaneously the one person who could destroy every single one of your plans up till now with only a word to the prince.

So it is today that you rise with dark circles deep enough to startle the maids that come in, only to find you already milling about your room (it’s a wonder they haven’t spotted that knife hidden behind the vanity mirror). You hadn’t even known there would be maids catering to you, but you suppose you should’ve seen it coming. No noble lady lives without being waited on hand and foot in high society, not unless they’re from a house falling into ruin.

All the same, it feels odd as their rough hands glide across your bare skin, gently rubbing away any sleepiness with warm water.. It’s strange to think that had you not shown potential with the sword, this would have been your life - serving as Lady Yeji’s lady-in-waiting, her most trusted servant in a different way.

You hope the maids don’t notice how your hands are even more calloused than their own.

They clothe you in the palace’s finery, every layer of fabric even silkier than the last. Today, it’s a drape-sleeved tiered gown, dyed in the colours of the Hwangs’ flag - a rich mauve. The soft, loose fabric conceals the ripple of muscle in your arms, neckline exposing your collarbones. And of course, a glass violet woven into your hair. It cuts a poised, demure figure, something unachievable by your own means. But the swathes of fabric carry an uncomfortable burn every time they slide over your skin. A reminder that you are an inferior replacement in royalty’s garb.

Pressing your palm to the hidden garter around your thigh, you feel the faint outline of an envelope. A message, left by your door at the break of dawn. You’ve read it, but you can’t help the inkling of suspicion in the back of your mind. Imprinted on the seal is a pattern of forget-me-nots, a mark of a specific family — that of Kim Minji’s.

To be honest, she’s a good companion to have, if trust is what you’re looking for. Based on your intel, Minji’s a fairly gentle, fresh soul, new to the social world. Debuting fairly young, the girl's innocence is more or less intact, preserved by a loving family who doted on their eldest daughter. Of all the candidates, she must be the most naive. She’ll be a prime target of the other girls, no doubt. She’d be the easiest to send home.

At least she’s not inexperienced enough to approach you directly. She’s arranged to meet shortly before breakfast. Two left turns and a right, as per the instructions in the letter, and you’re face to face with the girl herself, reclining in an empty sitting room. Despite her furrowed brows and tense gaze, she exudes an innocent beauty that’s truly worthy of being a part of the crown prince’s entourage. No doubt, she would be his choice if a future queen of an empire needed to be an angel on earth.

As she spots you, her eyes light up, and she pats the seat next to her. Trying not to trip over her billowing teal-coloured skirt, you muster up your most polite smile, gingerly lowering yourself beside her. “Lady Minji, a pleasure. I believe we have not formally met just yet.”

She chuckles, a soft sound that blends perfectly with the pale morning sunlight filtering in through the windows. She is a breath of fresh air, youth incarnate. “It is wonderful to meet you, Lady Hwang. You are kind, to agree to meet me despite not knowing my intentions. I imagine you feared the worst. We are truly in cutthroat times.” Her expression turns solemn as she fiddles with the fingertips of her silk gloves. You imagine she must be nervous, her family undoubtedly warning her of the competition’s aptitude for scheming. “I am fully aware it’s a gamble to throw my lot in with you, but there is a kindness in you I am inclined to trust. Will you tell me I have misplaced my faith?”

The confession startles you. Kindness? You? Either you’ve played your role a little too well, or Kim Minji is seeing only what she wishes to. But this works well in your favour. Kim Minji is likely to be a court favourite, provided the crown prince is looking for true love. And if that is the case, Prince Jay will look upon her and her associated with favour and trust, a good combination that will serve you well in your mission.

“Well,” you muse, playing as though you have the upper hand like you see Yeji do. “Every gamble has its risks. Whether or not I am a worthy risk to take is your choice.”

She swallows. “Companionship. Protection. That is what I seek from you. You’re stronger than I ever will be, in both mind and body. Accept my offer, and the Kims and Hwangs will provide each other with aid whenever necessary.”

She says it so bravely that you almost feel sorry that such a young girl is propositioning you. But all is fair in war. “Lady Kim, what I want isn’t your support. Something much, much simpler will suffice.”

“A-and what would that be?”

You smirk. “Information, my lady.”

Sunghoon thinks he’s going to faint.

He’s never been good at wrapping wounds, much less his own. With the amount of blood he lost wrangling with the bandages that girl gave him, it’s no wonder he’s a little lightheaded. Still, the night is young.

As if trying to mock him, the first light of dawn peeks through the curtains.

Sighing, he rises from his slumped position against the door, stumbling into Jay’s office with more grace than he’d expected of himself. With the flickering light of the candle illuminating the darkened room, Jay’s sleeping figure is cast in an odd glow. Beneath his head is a stack of paperwork and a quill dangling from his fingertips, each stained with dark ink. He’s worked hard today. A miracle, really, that he didn’t get indigestion from that sorry excuse of a meal. The king has never been a very good dinner guest.

Sunghoon shrugs his coat off, draping it across a chair in the corner. He’s guessing it’s about six in the morning, with the dimmest sunlight bleeding through the thick curtains. Jay really hasn't moved since Sunghoon left him where he was to find their new ally.

The memory of the quick spar sends an ache through every muscle. She (was that shadowy figure even a she?) was stronger than he’d anticipated, each calculated movement both efficient and lethal. After that, it was clear to see how someone like her survived for so long as an assassin despite her existence being common knowledge in the line of work.

The fact that he’s even managed to walk out alive from an encounter with an assassin with a hundred percent success rate is a mercy on her part.

With a sigh, Sunghoon squeezes his liege’s shoulder. “Get up already, your harem awaits.”

Jay groans as he rouses, puffy eyes blinking rapidly as he shoves Sunghoon off. “They’re not my harem.”

“Is that all you’re concerned with, your royal highness? Other than the fact that you’ve got hundreds more tasks to complete, not to mention the backlog from yesterday, and the day before, last week, last year-”

“Oh, be quiet,” Jay scoffs, not unkindly as he fixes his collar. “How long more do I have before I have to sit through another meal with the candidates?”

Sunghoon checks his pocket watch, the other hand reaching over to flatten Jay’s unruly hair.

“What’s with the bandages?”

“Fell in the bath. To answer your earlier question, you have approximately two hours and forty-nine minutes. Breakfast will be served in the second dining room today. Their Majesties will not be joining us today.”

“Thank heavens. Last night was a nightmare. All those girls, tense to the point it hurt to even look at them. Did you see how Lady Shin barely touched her plate?”

“Never mind that, I have news for you.” Sunghoon leans in, certain he looks crazed with glee in Jay’s eyes. “I met a very interesting someone tonight - well, more like they found me.”

“Who-”

“Take a guess.”

Their eyes meet, and Sunghoon knows his dear friend understands the moment a conspiratorial glint enters Jay’s eyes. “Impossible,” he breathes out, rummaging around his drawers. “That quick?”

“Have a little more faith in your beloved courtier, won’t you?”

“Then our plans…”

“Are falling right into place. The right hand of the Hwangs is now a player in the game,” Sunghoon finishes. “The Hwangs have thrown their lot. Their stance is clear to us now. Their rebellion has begun.”

Jay chews his lip, deep in thought. “No, I do believe their rebellion has been years in the making. Possibly since the Hwang children lost the previous Duke and Duchess Hwang. No doubt, they’ve harboured a grudge against Father for years now.” He swallows, and Sunghoon can see the gears in his head turning. “The Hwangs are to be feared. And now that we’ve made contact with their assassin, the stakes are infinitely higher.”

“Not that we haven’t anticipated it.”

“Indeed, not that we haven’t. Any guesses on their identity?”

It’s here that Sunghoon freezes. On one hand, it would be wise to tell Jay to wait for the second meeting, or start investigating immediately. But the sting of his palm settles in, as if that girl’s reminding him of the alliance he swore to. True, he might end up working against her. The likelihood is there, especially if her mission turns out to actually be killing the king to-be. So why is he so reluctant to promise Jay anything?

“Not sure. We’ll have to see.”

Jay’s disappointment is evident. “Right then, we’ll work with what we have. Continue to communicate with her, we’ll find out what the Hwangs are planning.”

Right. Sunghoon shakes his head, shelving away his traitorous thoughts. Any plans the Hwangs’ assassin has could never overshadow the ones he’d made with Jay. Plans that have been years in the making, built upon trust like no other. No one can possibly distract him, much less an assassin.

There’s a moment of silence that falls between the two. Sunghoon, with all his heart, wants - no, needs - their plans to work. It’s a matter of life and death for the prince, no matter how selfish the outcomes might be. Jay cannot die at the hands of the Hwangs.

Because maybe, just maybe, this is his only shot at atonement.

a/n — guess who…ahahahahhhaa pookies i’m a mess this is a super short chapter but don’t mistake it for filler! because it isn’t /srs (no really) but ok i am really really sorry this came so late, next chapter’s already in the works! show some love for the girlies named throughout the story, they’re much lovelier than i depict them lololol

taglist (open!)

@stariikis @viagumi @chenfleur

[theliverpudlianuk]

🔥 Bonfire Night, a date specific to the United Kingdom, remembers The Gunpowder Plot of 1605 when Catholic conspirators, of which Guido Fawkes was a member of the collective of 13, tried to blow up the Houses of Parliament in order to kill King James I (The Jacobean Era). The goal for this plot was to aid in restoring a Catholic Monarch to the Throne of England.

🔥 After the 16th Century religious Reformations, particularly the 1536 English Reformation under Henry VIII breaking away from the Roman Catholic Church which increased the authority of the Church of England under Protestant ideals. These beliefs were particularly heavily enforced during the reign of Henry VIII's son, Edward VI, though the severity of these later reformations are generally often incorrectly attributed to his father's Henrician Reformation.

🔥 The Tudor reign and Jacobean rule was difficult for Catholics as persecution was rife, though this increased further after the failed plot. Robert Catesby, the man in charge of organising the Gunpowder Plot wanted to replace the Protestant King James I with a Catholic Monarch.

🔥 Despite popular belief, Guy Fawkes was not the leader, he was the Member found first as his job was to set off the fuse for the 36 barrels in the cellar beneath the Houses of Parliament.

🔥 Originally the bonfires were to celebrate the foiled attempt, however, over the centuries it is often commonplace for people to now celebrate the Plotters.

🔥 Read the rest of our article on TheLiverpudlian.com for more information: https://www.TheLiverpudlian.com/post/the-uk-remembers-the-gunpowder-plot-guy-fawkes-on-bonfire-night

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[gallus-rising]

Thanks for the ask game, I'm just not in a brainspace for them right now <3

Anyway, what's your latest idea that probably won't make it into a fic? Mine is Alternate Film Red (since the characters are cannon but the events are not) where Uta challenges Soul King to a Rock Off as an excuse to see Luffy again. I assume Mob Psycho is still living in your head rent free?

that's cool! like i said no pressure <3

i'm not sure what my latest fic idea is, since if i know i probably won't ever write it my brain auto-deletes the information w/o my permission unless i remember to write it down 😔😔 but i've had a Big One that'd been in my mind for a while, but will probably never write bc it's so weird and has a strangely large scope lol

it's a jjba: Vento Aureo/Enter The Gungeon crossover of all things. basically while i was on a Gungeon kick a while back i realized the, despite being a super goofy roguelike based almost entirely around Gun Puns, the themes that is does have are weirdly similar to VA's? + the type of goof matches up nicely w jjba's lol

the gist is: Diavolo (The Devil) created the gungeon for canon typical reasons (bc he's deranged and doesn't want anyone to know who he is ever to the point of wanting to erase his own past) the members of the Buccigang are all gungeoneers to kill their canon typical tragic backstories that consist of One Big Mistake but they've all basically lost hope of ever doing that and can't leave bc of how the gungeon's time bullshit works. Giorno is the new kid but he's not actually there to kill his past, he wants to stop Jotaro (who is also there somewhere deep in the gungeon) from killing his past, bc if Jotaro kills his past, aka kills Dio before he can fuck over the Joestar bloodline, Giorno will retroactively stop existing

uhhh Giorno is able to restore hope to the gang, the rest of the cast replaces various NPCs, squadra specifically being a group that tried to take down the Devil and failed horribly, Trish is the Blacksmith and eventually teams up w the Buccigang to take down her dad, the Devil, and free them all from this Time Purgatory. i even made all the characters starting loadouts while referencing the gungeon wiki to make sure no one was too OP lol

also the fic is/was/will be titled Guns & Roses which is a name i'm very big proud of ∠( ᐛ 」∠)_

[ancha-aus]

I am gonna reply to the tags you left and you can't stop me :D

I just love the idea that Reaper has this gigantic network of information. All to get what he wants.

He had to find out about the talented mage Geno who lived in another country SOMEHOW

It isn't like Geno would go apply for a job in a whole other country while he littlest brother was still in school. Like. That isn't Geno. So it was Reaper who ahd to find out and offered so much money and benefits that Geno pretty much had to say yes because it was just beyond perfect.

But there was soemthing you said that got me thinking.

"The short period of peace"

Which means there were a LOT of wars going on.

And if Reaper had been in power for a while now and is very respected and has a large thrieving country?

It can only mean one thing.

Reaper is pretty much a warlord as well. and a damn good one at that.

(wonder if others tended to call Reaper the GrimReaper for a while. or even Death)

Reaper just having a large army, or maybe a smaller one, but being very good at strategy and everything that he manages to defeat much larger targets. He makes sure the fighting happens in areas which aren't populated. He knows how to lead the enemy to spots where he can easily circle them and win.

Reaper is a powerhouse and probably the most influential king in this AU.

People don't go to war against him because they know Reaepr would win. and Reaper got good and winning over land and intergrating it into his country wihtout issue.

Fighting a war and winning it is one thing.

Getting the gained land to work well with your country and repair the damage and invest and gain loyalty? that is much much much harder. And Reaper would be good at it like an art.

Becuase how else does he have such a large area, positive standing. and good PR with his people?

oaky sorry for that. I got thinking.

The other tags! *cheats by opening a new window and scrolling back to the tags* let me see...

The period of peace after Nightmare managed to gain his standing and calm things down. Reaper had already been wathcing him and seeing what he is doing.

The fact the first thing that Reaepr thought when Ngihtmare went out of public eye that the knights betrayed him means he knows who each of the knights are. (which with the masks may be harder to figure out unless there is a whole ceremony but why would nightmare want people to know who his most trusted people are? maybe they have normal uniforms with neutral masks first? before they gain a special mask? It just seems like a security risk for everyone to know the elite guard by face and name... sorry i am rambling again haha)

Etiher way. Reaper thinks the knight betrayed nightmare. it implies that reaper knows their pasts and who they are. another point towards having a large information network (especially so with cross already betraying dream. if that is known or not also depends on the situation.)

Reaper really just has the biggest gossip network lmao.

but yeah. Reaepr keeps an eye on it. watching it closely. and Nightmare appears again. but always wearing amask now and many layers and reaper is convinced he is shorter.

So reaper probably thinks either nightmare got replaced by someone else... or nightmare got mortally wounded.

Reaper sends the message for a treaty.

(gonna be real. teen nightmare may have come close to crying happy tears at the message. this is something he needs. an actual powerful allay in cause something goes wrong and reaper is the most powerful there is.)

okay but you didn't need to stab my heart by making it obvious that nightmare specifically added a line in the treaty to protect his loved once in case he gets killed. that is just too sweet?! But also painful and the poor teen is so worried and scared for those he holds near.

okay but reaper's visit overlapping with Dream, ink and blue being locked up? actually works perfect because reaper can visit those three. hear them out. and tell them they are blind idiots. and just gives a fucking rundown on all the facts nad proof that nightmare is sound of mind and has been trying his damn hardest to make things better for everyone. but that they are mad because nightmare, a person who was never taught how to be king or how to rule, isn't the perfect ruler.

because they would need to hear it from someone else. someone outside of the situation.

and yes <3 drabble <3 no worries or rush or forced or anything! It was just a cute/fun/cool idea that someone else had but i don't want to overstep too much haha.

Ough. I think that New Age AU Nightmare should accidentally unite rival kingdoms. Usher in a new era of peace style.

Like. It's my au so I can do as I please, but I REALLY like the idea that Reaper is the first adult (besides his Knights) who really takes Night seriously.

Reaper only knows him as the Teen King, but he'd heard rumors of the usurping before and chose actively not to mess with Night, assuming he was a loose cannon and might declare war. He *did* inherit a huge army, after all. So when Reaper asked for the treaty, he was pleasantly surprised to hear Night was open to the idea. They talked through letters for almost a year before anything went through, and Night was always well-spoken and blunt about his beliefs and what he wanted, but also didn't skimp on the thinly veiled threats.

Reaper was impressed, and had a deep respect.

And then he arrived, and Nightmare was like, fourteen. And of course, he didn't say anything, but he payed close attention, and Night spoke the same way he wrote. It was definitely him. So... Reaper just rolled with it. And was proven so so correct for doing it. Because Night far exceeded the accomplishments Reaper had been expecting, and cherry on top, Night had Geno's little brother. The entire point of getting the treaty.

Of course, Nightmare would be a powerful enemy to make, so the treaty went through, but it worked great because it seemed Error would be staying, and visits would have to be arranged.

So. My point here. I think Reaper is someone who's willing to talk to Nightmare as a friend, and commiserate over ruling, share news, strategies, and just have general talks that Night enjoys.

Along with that, I think that anytime there's a big event where the royals of different kingdoms meet up (think Galas or political hearings) Reaper acts as Night's entry into the world of the royals. Reaper's been alive for longer than most current rulers could even remember, so him treating *Nightmare* of all people as an equal? It immediately gave him a boost socially that he needed. And he has the heart and the knowledge, at this point, to justify Reaper respecting him so much.

And by the time Nightmare is grown (and probably brings his nuclear war-head crafting husband Wizard to events), everyone respects him. He has other royal friends. He has a place there, abd people listen to his insights, abd he helps other kingdoms resolve their systematic issues when he can. And a mix between Scary Dog Privilege (Reaper + Error + Knights) and just Genuineky Being Good At It, makes him accidentally kick off a longer era of peace between a lot of the kingdoms. The kinda thing you hear about when ancient civilizations have that one peaceful era.

I just think it'd be so so ironic if he managed to get through all of this trouble, and have all these odds stacked against him, and actually be able to kinda naturally improve things!!!

Also @ancha-aus ! (I might start tagging u in these since I don't post regular drabbles- lemme know if you'd like me to Not do this lol 🫡)

[princessozera]

Devious Licks pt 2; MC's devious lick

((Long post ahead))

MC paced their room, alternating between tapping a pen against their fingers to staring at the makeshift bulletin board on their wall. They were never one to back out a of a challenge, and now just about every student in RAD had stolen something. Most had only stolen smaller items; textbooks and classroom desk/chairs, one of MC's friends had even stolen a pair of gargoyles from the library ("THEY'RE A COUPLE MC, IF I ONLY TAKE ONE THE OTHER WILL HAUNT OR KILL ME." MC's friend has always been a little eccentric, but considering they were in the Devildom, MC didn't know if they were joking about the sentient gargoyle statues.)

It was 2 am, but MC couldn't sleep as they planned their own elaborate devious lick. While they knew their magic wasn't strong enough to do something like Mammon's double staircase or even Lucifer's library statue, they HAD to be better than Belphie's couch and Asmo's bathroom lamps. But the question was; what is something cooler than a couch and lamps that HADN'T already been stolen or pre-hexed by Lucifer? MC paced around their room for another 5 minutes before a picture on their desk caught their eye. It was a group photo in RAD's entrance foyer, MC and Satan had just hosted the first ever R.A.D science fair and all the winners and student council got together for a celebratory photo. They stared at the photo for a while, trying to find exactly why they were so drawn to it, when a lightbulb went off.

That could work. My room needs some new décor anyways.

The plan was easy enough to form since it mirrored what Luke had done, but MC made sure to pack a second backpack and a plastic tarp to maximize their chance of success.

Everything was straightforward and MC was actually kind of disappointed in how easily they pulled off their plan. No one had questioned the large item in their arms and no one noticed it was missing all throughout the school day. Maybe it wasn't as important as they originally thought. They were trying to figure out where to stash their loot in their room when Asmo burst in, dragging Belphegor with him. Whatever request he had started to make gave way to curiosity, asking about the tarp.

"Oh, I wanted to do the devious lick trend too so I stole the Demon King's old horn. You know, the one that was next to the award display case?" MC unwraps the horn and lets them see, surprised when they both stagger a few steps back.

"MC! That's not a horn, that's one of the Demon King's claws!" Asmo looked paler than normal and even Belphegor couldn't seem to find a snarky comment to make, clutching his pillow just a bit tighter. MC balks and looks back at the 'horn', immediately sticking out their hand.

"IT'S BIGGER THAN MY ENTIRE ARM. I- it-!!!" MC can't take their eyes off the claw, mystified at the revelation. The demon king had always seemed large in portraits with Lord Diavolo but he'd been a baby so of course his dad had been huge, but not THAT huge. What kind of eldritch horror size-

"MC I know you think this trend is fun and all, but you should put that back-"

"Yeah... Yeah, I'll do it tomorrow mor-"

"No way!" Asmo shoves the discard tarp back into MC's arms and waves them away. "If Lucifer catches you with that or Barbatos realizes it's gone we're ALL getting suspended for a year, we'll cover for you but go put that back NOW!" MC wants to complain, but it's probably for the best. If this had been more fun to steal maybe they'd be putting up more of a fight but for now they'll return it.

"Time for a new lick," MC mutters to themselves as they strap the claw onto their back, using the round trip from RAD to come up with their next brilliant stunt.

Why steal from a school when you can steal from a castle?

------

MC had gone alone over to Diavolo's castle a few times before, and on days like today knew that Diavolo and Barbatos would be too busy to entertain them so MC could go anywhere in the castle. Considering that there is a gala that's going to be held in a week, maybe even the Little D's would be too busy for Barbatos to order one of them to watch over MC.

MC's target this time was even larger than the claw, and they had to sneak a few tools from RAD's workshop just in case, so if anything this was a double steal. Diavolo had so many beautiful paintings in his castle, he could spare one or two. And with no laser technology or video cameras, MC didn't have to pull any tricks from the countless spy/heist movies they'd seen with the brothers.

Their prize was left of the entrance hall, 4 corridors down and past 5 doors. MC passed gilded vases and artifacts older than the castle itself until they came into view of their favorite painting. It wasn't the largest or most extravagant in the castle, but MC had found this when wandering the halls- avoiding yet another party of elites that Lord Diavolo had insisted they attend. It was a full body painting of Lord Diavolo's father, the demon king. Even in shadows, the dark colors of the painting radiated power and commanded respect. There was something comforting about the painting, and Diavolo often found MC staring at it, telling them a new story of his father's triumphs and accomplishments as king. MC always came to see it whenever they visited the castle.

Thankfully, MC didn't need any of the tools they stole to take the portrait off the wall, but it was larger than they originally thought, so all plans of sneaking it out in an art portfolio bag were out the window. Now their only hope was to waddle out of the castle before Barbatos or Diavolo came looking for them. They made it as far as the entrance of the grand hall when a voice called out.

"MC, you know it's not stealing if I can see you and I'm letting you walk out the door with it right?" Barbatos appears from around a column near the stairs, and for a second MC wonders how long he's been waiting there to catch them leaving.

"YOU SEE NOTHING, I AM SIMPLY WALKING WITH A LIMP BECAUSE I SPRAINED MY ANKLE DOING A BACKFLIP," MC yells back, not stopping out of fear that they would lose their grip and drop the portrait, but they did try to keep it perpendicular to their body so if Barbatos calls for them to turn around they could keep it hidden behind them.

"You don't know how to do a backflip."

"You cant prove that!"

"Bring the painting back by tomorrow or I'll make Solomon cook you a buffet."

"THAT'S COUNTS AS A DEATH THREAT-" MC yells back to cover up how much they were straining to keep a straight face- this portrait weighed A TON. They manage to shake the door shut behind them before finally dropping the picture for a minute, groaning in sweet relief as they let their arms rest. The 15 minute walk home turned an hour long, having to stop frequently to rest amd MC considered rolling the portrait at one point, but they decided that they liked living.

"Great. 2nd failure," MC groans as they prop the portrait against their desk, making sure to lock the door before flopping down on the bed. MC couldn't help but admire how handsome the Demon King looked. This must have been painted eons ago but MC was willing to bet he still looked f-i-n-e. Since they had to return the painting soon and the brothers were all gone, MC spent the rest of the day talking to the painting as they did their chores and homework. Inconsequential things, school work, the devildom's best features, their favorite food. But as MC went on, they couldn't help but think back to Diavolo's stories and wondered how the actual demon king would respond to a human in the devildom. As much as they tried to see it, the eyes in the portrait just never seemed cruel to MC.

"I'd love to get to talk to you before I leave. You might kill me, but it'd be interesting none the less," MC gave a wistful sigh as they continued staring at the painting. "But you'd have to be alive for that. Or at the very least back in the Devildom- Diavolo never told me what happened to you." When MC took a second to step back, they suddenly recognized exactly where this portrait had been painted. The elevated walkway, and 4 stairs cases cascading down to the next floor- that was where MC and the brothers had been sucked into the painting the first time they ended up in the snake-Labyrinth! MC remembers that there were another 3 floors to go down from there, but they'd never had the chance.

What were the odds the Demon King being closer than anyone expected?

----------

"Ah Barbatos, I thought I'd find you here," Diavolo smiles as he steps into the palace kitchen. "What are you baking today?"

"Midnight velvet cupcakes and lemon-blueberry scones with an herbal tea," Barbatos said as he closed the oven and set a timer for the cupcakes to cool. "MC should be here soon to study, so I decided to make some human desserts as well."

"I can't belive MC's been over twice a week for a month now just to study," Diavolo let Barbatos turn around before snagging an unfrosted cupcake, which Barbatos courteously pretended to not notice was missing from the cooling rack. " I considered if we should lower their work load, but since they only really need the palace library and not our help, I guess they're fine. MC is so quiet when they study that I even forget they're in the castle."

"Well MC has always been serious about their studies, but it would be good for you to check on them between tasks- as their host. Try as I may I can't seem to find the time so I usually send the Little D's to check on MC." Lord Diavolo nods as he continues to nibble on his cupcake, lost in thought. These less formal moments with Barbatos were special to him, but the heavy air he's been feeling all day has ruined the moment. He wanted to ask Barbatos if he's also felt a change in the air, but maybe he was just being paranoid- Barbatos would have mention if anything was wrong. Lord Diavolo and Barbatos continued to make small talk, and Diavolo even tried his hand at decorating a few cupcakes.

Before Lord Diavolo could make his way back to his study, the ground in the kitchen began to shake and both he and Barbatos grabbed the counter to keep upright. He flashes back to the "earthquakes" that MC told him about once, but nothing like that has ever happened in the Devildom. Once the shaking stops, little D number 2 runs into the kitchen, in such a panic he slams straight into Barbatos's legs and doesn't even think to apologize. He's breathless, rambling something about MC and the brothers and tugging on Barbatos's leg, so Lord Diavolo and Barbatos follow him out. They expect to head to the foyer, thinking the brothers may be in the courtyard or the entrance hall, but say nothing as the little D drags them to the throne room.

There, in the throne that was so massive it managed to dwarf Diavolo's demon form, sat the Demon King in his full 25 foot, ""human"" form, clearly visible over everyone's heads. Diavolo didn't pay attention to the brothers as he made his way forward, eyes glued to the borderline arrogant smile that Diavolo had only ever seen a handful of times outside of a portrait . As his father's dark amber eyes finally met his own, Diavolo reached to the front of the throne steps and caught sight of MC- sitting happily to the King's left, a ruby betrothal necklace nestled against their chest.

Bonus/the actual request/:

Diavolo reacting to MC's devious lick of stealing his dad ((I put some of my own HCs in to fill in Barbatos/Simeon's backgrounds))

Diavolo

Absolutely dumbfounded

There was no graceful, crown-prince appropriate way to handle this, and in his utter shock he resorts to smiling and nodding along to whatever his father was saying.

He had to be hallucinating right? How many times had he dreamt of this? Coming back from a stressful say at RAD, or taking a break from his paperwork to find his father back like he'd never left. Although his father's words were falling on deaf ears, his voice still resonated in Diavolo, a heavy vibration in his chest that was the only indication right now of the King's true power. It was like the weighted blanket MC had once brought over; it was welcome and so comforting that Diavolo felt tears prick the edges of his eyes.

But he couldn't understand the image in front of him. He'd spent a few good sleepless nights early on- worried about the program. Diavolo imagined his father would think unfavorably of it, of seeing humans on equal footing as humans. Of course he'd always hoped that it wouldn't be the case, be he'd never talked about such things with his father before he left. But here he was now, the Demon King lounging around with an easy smile, one arm thrown around the chair MC sat in to bring it closer, with warm and adoring eyes.

He couldn't keep his eyes off of MC or that necklace either. Did MC know exactly what they were wearing? Did they understand the implications? They had to, MC never did anything haphazardly in the Devildon, and they were far too relaxed in the face of the brothers' anger to not know.

When Diavolo said he wanted to use the exchange program to unite the realms and hoped his father would approve whenever he returned, this was probably the farthest possibility from his mind. He'd come to terms with his father's disappearance years ago, and had believed that the program would be 10 to 20 years in before the Demon King caught wind- far too involved for him to put a stop to it.

"When did they even-" Diavolo couldn't even finish the question in his head when the answer hit him square in the face. The biweekly visits. MC had been using their work as a ruse to come visit and hang out with father. Diavolo felt a little hurt, not even that MC had knowingly lied and kept this a secret from him, but a lie that could have been so easily discovered- like they didn't think Diavolo was smart enough to catch on. But in the end, he really wasn't since he and Barbatos had no idea this was happening right underneath their noses.

The clashing stress of a millennia ruling alone, elation at seeing his father, MC's seeming betrayal, along with darker emotions he didn't want to acknowledge were jarring, and Diavolo started feeling sick to his stomach- it was too much to process at once.

So for now, Diavolo accepted his father's hug graciously, feeling no shame in how strongly he hugged him back. Diavolo returned power over the Devildom back to his father with no resistance, and when Barbatos was sent to cook up a feast for the Demon King, he took the chance to escape the suffocating throne room.

Back in the quiet of his own room, Diavolo couldn't help but try to see only the positive in this. But for every time he tried to conjure up the imagined pride and happiness from his father, he could only remember his favorite moments with MC. He tried to tell himself it was going to be okay, now he could enjoy more time with Lucifer and Barbatos! He would still have full control over the student council and exchange program, but anything above that could be handled by his father again. He'd get to hang out with everyone and perhaps make more friends- but MC couldn't be one of them anymore.

As he focuses more on MC and their time together, he starts remembering how alone he'd felt before the program. Yes, Lucifer had been his friend before all of this, but he'd always been a bit detached, keeping Diavolo at arms length all these years. After MC came along and Lucifer's relationship with his brothers had improved, Diavolo had also become closer with all of them. MC's influence over all of them was not lost on him. But now MC had to stay with the Demon King. At any moment the King could order MC to stay in the castle, and if they wanted to learn, he'd get a private tutor for them- extend the library to an entire wing, fund research and all the little experiments MC wanted to do- as long as they stayed by his side.

Diavolo ignores the anger, the resentment, pushing it down as he's done so many times before. It use to be easy, anytime he started to get mad at his father leaving him, Diavolo could reason it away and go back to being excited at the prospect of seeing him again.

By morning, Diavolo is himself again, cheery and congratulating MC and the King on their relationship, much more receptive to his father's comments and praise. Diavolo fills him in on anything MC hasn't told him already, and tries his best to take it all in stride.

Everyone knows Lord Diavolo is happy for his father's return, but those who saw the newest family portrait couldn't help but wonder why it seemed that he was painted just a bit too far away, in colors just a bit too muted to match the loving couple next to him.

Barbatos

Rebellious

Of all the path's he'd seen for this program and MC's life, this was one he hadn't seen before.

He'd come to care for MC; he's prevented a handful of incidents for them and likes spending time with them. He did come to terms that they probably couldn't be together and that the brothers and even Lord Diavolo had a better chance with them, but this was uncalled for.

Barbatos couldn't help but feel a bit offended, but it was mostly because he was caught off guard- the Demon King coming back wasn't the sort of thing that would just "slip through the cracks", and for the King to have not annihilated MC on sight was nothing short of a miracle.

Since Barbatos had previously served under the Demon King, he caught himself right as he was about to take a step to be at the King's side. Always to his right and 6 steps behind, the omnipotent butler cloaked in shadows.

But if he was being honest with himself, his loyalties lay with Lord Diavolo now, so he stayed by the prince's side and hope the King wouldn't call for him.

Once Barbatos gets over his own disbelief, he keeps glancing back to Lord Diavolo, trying to figure out how he's taking it. The prince had come to master that easy smile, and even Barbatos was struggling to understand how deeply Diavolo was taking this to heart. He saw the way Diavolo looked, confused and a bit hurt between MC and the King, and if Diavolo challenged his father to the throne in that very moment, Barbatos knew whose side he would take.

Angels + Solomon

Luke is at risk of getting a heart attack right then and there. He wants to be mad at MC, to yell at them and shake some sense into them, but he can't even bring himself to stop shaking. The Demon King wasn't even trying to be intimidating, but Luke couldn't make himself look up to see where MC was. How could MC sound so bright and unbothered in this moment??

Simeon couldn't help but admit he was impressed; he'd always said MC was amazing and so charming in their own unique way, but getting the Demon King around their finger was something else entirely. However, he does think this is all some weird nightmare dream that he got from trying out Solomon's recent kitchen monstrosity. It takes a week and formal wedding announcements to let the shock subside into mild panic. He wasn't worried about the Devildom citizens, but Simeon couldn't help but wonder how the Celestial Realm would take the news. MC was a human and had no hold in the Celestial Realm, but human-demon marriages and subsequent hybrids could start a precedent that he thinks they would fight over. Hopefully, it wouldn't come to that again.

Solomon: "I'm not jealous, I'm not jealous, I'm not jealous, I'm not-" And if he was being honest with himself, he didn't know if it was because he'd rather be in the King's place or MC's.

Brothers:

going through the 5 stages of grief except most of them are stuck on denial or bargaining

Lilith, watching from the ghost realm: "HELL YEAH, GET IT MC!!! YOU'RE KILLING IT! "

[sepublic]

Belos’ Day of Unity

            This episode confirmed a HUGE detail for us, and it’s that the Day of Unity involves merging the human and Demon Realms together! This better explains why Belos wants the Portal… If he just wanted to access the human world, he could do that with regular Titan’s Blood alone, but he needs something on a level that can maintain a lasting, open connection between the two! Not only that…

         But as Boscha so ‘kindly’ reminds us later this episode, Luz’s glyphs don’t work in the human world! Magic is a gift from the isles… And with the association of wild magic as ‘elemental’, how Luz’s glyphs take an elemental form… How they were the first form of magic, learned from observing the isles themselves and whatnot-

         It seems wild magic, at least as how Belos defines and hates it, takes a lot of cues and even draws power from the Boiling Isles! From the Demon Realm itself… Which, is interesting because;

         Belos clearly wants to control magic. He sees it as something witches have to more or less earn back… But ideally, they have to earn it from him entirely! Bile magic is something Belos can control, it’s confined to people’s bodies and he has the coven bindings to do so- Belos can control bodies, he can override that autonomy, and it comes from a source he can regulate. You can even see it with staffs, especially the one that Hunter has!

         Staffs can be taken away, they can be broken and drained. They’re external, but in a way that Belos can easily separate a witch from… And with Hunter, this takes on a whole new twisted meaning, because Hunter’s staff is (or rather was) his ONLY source and means of magic… 

        And as someone who created that staff no doubt, Belos can easily tamper with and restrict the spells that Hunter can access with it, no doubt- I wouldn’t be surprised if Belos could turn off Hunter’s staff at will! It’s his to give and take as he pleases, and given Belos’ unwillingness to create more Palismen, we still see plenty of carefulness with staffs as an external source of magic as well. Belos might intend to replace magical staffs with his own version that he can control!

         But wild magic and glyphs? They come from the isles, they come from the very land itself… And Belos CAN’T restrict the very fabric of the reality he lives in. Glyphs are an outside-context problem, you don’t need a bile sac to wield them; And they completely bypass the issues of coven bindings. You can’t restrict glyphs, the way you can’t restrict knowledge- It’s always bound to slip through Belos’ grasp, no matter how hard he tries. And once a secret is out, it tends to spread like wildfire…

         Belos can’t just apply some massive coven binding to the Demon Realm entirely… Can he?

         That’s of course where the Day of Unity comes in. Where OUR world comes in… If magic, specifically the wild magic that fuels glyphs, is sourced directly from the Demon Realm itself… And our world has no magic, glyphs are useless there? 

        Belos might intend to neutralize the Demon Realm’s magic entirely, by fusing it with the human world! And/or, with how the human world seems more vast than the Demon Realm (the Boiling Isles is only the size of Vermont), the magic inherent to it will be spread so thin that it’ll be too weak to utilize.

         And that’s… As Luz might put it, fiendishly clever! Belos recognizes his limits. He knows he can’t control the knowledge of glyphs, the memory of them- And even if he could, people can still learn directly from the isles itself, from the Demon Realm itself- The Light Glyph can be found in the stars! So long as the original source exists to learn from, nothing is truly stopping someone from paying attention and finding it on their own, potentially by accident!

         If Belos can’t truly, physically control this magic and restrain it- Then it’s a liability, especially since it can grant coven-bound witches access to full magic again, and allow them to turn the tides. It makes Belos and his system redundant… So he has to remove the original source of wild magic, WITHOUT destroying his own world and of course himself in the process!

         In comes our world. With the Demon Realm’s magic neutralized and/or diffused, the only source will come from the bile in witch’s bodies, which Belos CAN restrict. Sure, some witches might escape here or there, slip through the cracks and have unbound children… But that’s nothing compared to the threat of glyphs, which anyone can learn at any time!

         And if Belos plans to somewhat conquer the human world, at least to defend and maintain his own utopia- It works out again! Because our technology is based on knowledge, nothing is stopping the witches of Belos’ society from learning and adapting to our own technology, repurposing it for themselves. We already see technology exist to some degree anyway, such as in the Abomitons, and Belos’ own creations! It’d be easy for witches to repurpose our own technology for themselves.

         But humans? We can’t cast magic. We have no bile sacs… And even glyphs, the one form of magic we COULD wield, would be rendered powerless by our own world! Sure, there might be a few witches here or there that would come to our side, that would oppose Belos’ conquest and imperialism… 

        But those select few wouldn’t make up for the vast differences in numbers, nor could they have kids who’d grow up at a fast enough rate. Magic can replicate technology’s uses in its own way –scrolls can access a magical version of the internet- and I wouldn’t be surprised if the Day of Unity will also empower Belos as some kind of all-powerful, magical god who could easily handle what us puny humans throw at him, anyway.

         Aside from a much smaller population… Again, it seems magic is a good way for Belos to ensure his own power and conquest over our world, too- Or at least to keep us out of his own borders. Perhaps Belos only intends to rule his select portion of the Demon Realm within Connecticut, and bar out everyone else to their own devices, occasionally checking in to make sure we don’t ‘invade’ his own bubble.

         Maybe Belos doesn’t even intend to transport the entire Demon Realm, just the Boiling Isles itself, to the human world… Which of course isolates witches from that source of wild magic even more.

         There is an issue of course- And that gets down to how witches create magical bile. With how magic is a gift from the isles, it’s possible witches are simply able to convert the innate magic of the atoms and molecules around them in their digestive system, and turn that into bile- Meaning without this ‘magical radiation’, eventually a witch will run out of magic bile and be depleted, should they stay in the human world without any access to the Demon Realm.

         Does Belos know, or even care? Maybe this is his way of also removing magic entirely… Or as I said, with how magic will be spread thin when our worlds fuse; Perhaps it will exist in enough of a capacity in this fused realm, that biological witches can still harvest this magical radiation and produce bile. 

        Or, based on how King described it in The Unauthorized History of the Boiling Isles, witches just naturally produce their own magical radiation in the form of bile- They don’t need to be connected to the Demon Realm to do, they are their own sustainable source!

         Either way, Belos’ plan makes a disturbing amount of sense… It’s the final nail in the coffin as a way for him to physically control magic, and it’s the outright death and eradication of wild magic as well! He has no interest in conquering our world, not necessarily- Just in bringing his over so he can kill off the final source of magic that manages to elude his control.

         Any imperialism may come as a natural byproduct of this type of crossover, but it’s not what Belos specifically intends from the fusion- So in a way, he wasn’t lying when he said that it wasn’t his plan to conquer the human world. 

        Belos didn’t say it’d NEVER be his plan… Just that this specific goal doesn’t involve that, not necessarily. Plus, he’d argue that any conquest would come fully as a means of self-defense, which… Would not be wrong either, because there’d definitely be humans who’d reject the society that Belos would bring in, and seek to eradicate and/or control it for themselves too!

         Once the Day of Unity’s crossover ensues, it seems the only magical liability that Belos would have to worry about is… Unbound biological witches, witches who DO have a bile sac, but aren’t under Belos’ control! Hence why he stresses to his coven heads;

         “The larger your covens grow, the more power we have to unite our realms, where the worthy shall inherit a utopia free of wild magic.”

         It’s possible Belos plans to use his coven bindings as a means of powering whatever magic he needs to pull this crossover off- I’ve speculated before on the demon realm’s solar system forming a glyph combo to do this, but it’s not out of the question that Belos would need a little extra power for such a massive event. 

        Perhaps Belos intends to drain the unused magic of every bound witch- After all, about 8/9ths of every bound witch’s magic is sealed away, presumably unused… So to Belos and his coven heads, they’re not really depriving anyone of anything by draining that unused magic?

         Especially if witches’ magic can still replenish over time anyway (unless you’re cursed), plus spreading the individual cost that each witch will have to fork over for the Day of Unity, across more witches, is arguably the moral thing to do anyway! 

        Hence why coven bindings are necessary, not just to fuel the Day of Unity, but to also remove the final liability that Belos would need to deal with. Ideally, Belos wants every witch bound before the Day of Unity, so he won’t have to worry about any biological witch when the crossover occurs…

         But at the same time, I doubt it’s strictly necessary- So even if it’s ideal, Belos is obviously going to go ahead with his crossover if there are still unbound witches. He can still deal with them later… They might have a bigger world to escape out into, which is why he stresses this be done sooner, rather than later, when witches are more confined to a smaller space and easier to find- But Belos still ultimately wins, one way or the other.

         Belos’ plan and Day of Unity is unimaginably grandiose, horrifying, and worst of all… Makes so much sense, it connects everything together in a reasonable way! Though it only makes sense from a viewer’s speculative perspective, and in-universe from the perspective of Belos, for the kinds of goals he’s looking for of course. 

        From a general and moral perspective this plan is completely nuts and terrible, but in terms of what Belos is actually trying to accomplish, a society where magical is truly bound… (Albeit not an actual ‘utopia’ like he claims), I hate to say it but this works perfectly, and that’s terrifying! Unfortunately, it seems this fucker does know EXACTLY what he’s doing, very much! And Belos is batshit nuts.

        And there’s a good chance that somebody in this meeting is very understandably not enthused with Belos’ plan, even outright intimidated, and determined to stop it as a result...

[btssavedmylifeblr]

Gwanghae Flow (M)

Genre: Historical porn with plot

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader 

Summary: The queen receives a forbidden visitor in the middle of the night.

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: explicit sexual activity, somewhat dubious consent, unhealthy relationship dynamics, slut shaming, adultery, impreg kink, knife/sword play, historical inaccuracy and excessive use of kdrama tropes

A/N: Here’s my small contribution to our collective thirst for the king Agust D. 

______

The whole palace is asleep, except you. Your eyes stare upward into the darkness, but there’s no light to make anything out. You would light a candle, except that would alert your guard to the fact you were still awake. And he never left until he was sure you were asleep.

A floorboard creaks and you sit bolt upright. You clutch the bedcovers to you as you wait for the door to open. Has he finally come?

But the door remains closed. Is he not coming? It had taken a month just to find the chance to speak to him alone, to whisper to him the time that your guard retired for the evening, to urge him to come to you, for him to nod and lick his lips. “Yes, my queen.”

Another soft creak of wood makes you startle, but still he doesn’t appear. You sigh in frustration, giving up and closing your eyes. You’ll need a new plan in the morning.

It’s still dark when you wake, lulled from sleep by a soft caress. A finger traces its way down your jawline. A thumb glides across your lips. But as your eyes open, the touches stop. A hand clamps down across your mouth, sealing off your ability to scream.

A single candle illuminates your room and the man who holds you down. He’s still dressed in his court clothing, all black except for the gold ornaments that gleam in his long blonde hair, dangle from his ears, and sparkle on his hands.  His fingers taste like rice wine against your lips.

“Is this a trap, my queen?” He sits on the blankets next to you, holding you down at the waist in addition to the hand covering your mouth. “You won’t scream if I let you go?”

You shake your head as best you can with the tight grip he has on you. You asked him here for a purpose.

He withdraws his hand from your mouth slowly, but leaves the hand on your waist. The candle only lights half his face. In the soft glow, he still looks very much like the boy you knew years ago. The boy who held your hand by the river and asked you for one soft kiss under the cherry blossoms before he left for war.

“Hello, my queen,” he says, fingers slowly tracing the ribbons around your waist that seal off your nightclothes.

“Hello, Yoongi.” You had hoped to call him your king, all those years ago on the riverbank, promising to wait for him until he returned to you. But the years have been unkind to you both. “I was expecting you earlier.”

“Your guard was particularly reluctant to leave your door tonight.” His eyes rake down your body, lingering on your bare leg that has wiggled its way out from under your skirt. “Perhaps your husband gave him specific instructions to not leave you alone?” His tongue plays teasingly at the inside of his cheek as he continues to stare down at you; his hand is warm where it sits on your waist.

“My husband”- you twist your body toward him so that the hem on your skirt rides up a little higher -”does not care how I spend my evenings.”

His eyes linger on the newly exposed skin. “I think he would care about you inviting strange men into your bedchamber.”

“You are not a stranger.” You interlace your fingers over his at your waist.

He leans backwards, sharp eyes examining you, and the whole of his face is revealed. The wound that marred your future together shines red on the other side of his face, an angry gash from above his brow to beneath his eye. “I am not the man you knew.”

“No...” You slide his hand up your side to tease at the strings that hold close your blouse. “The boy I knew would never sneak into the bed of a married woman.” Your transparent white undergarments reveal the curves of your body even though you are still covered. You had chosen the thinnest ones you owned. “I am hoping you have become a bolder man since then.”

“Bolder, yes, and more reckless.” His fingers wrap into the ribbons, undoing the closure of your blouse, but not yet opening it.

You shrug the top from your shoulders to bare your naked chest before him. Your bare breasts and flimsy silks are a stark contrast to his full royal dress. He still has his sword tied to his waist. “Reckless indeed, to bring your weapon this deep into the palace.”

“They would kill me if they found me here.” He smirks as he says it, as if he’d like to see them try. “Seemed wise to take precautions.” His hand twitches at his side as he stares at your exposed chest.

“I’d like to dispense with precaution.” You bring his hand up to your breast. His calloused fingers slide tentatively across your smooth skin.

“It would seem,” he says, his touches growing firmer as you lean into them, “that you are not the girl I knew either. When did the woman I loved become such a desperate slut?”

It punches the air from your lungs and you are deeply ashamed. You pull away from him, squirming and trying to tug your shirt back on. “I’m not…” He doesn’t understand. “I’ve never…”

His hands block you from covering yourself, fingers tugging at your nipples, which harden even as your shame grows. “Now, now, my queen, it’s too late for that. You asked me here for a reason. You disrobed in front of me for a reason.” He pinches your nipple between his fingers, causing sparks of heat to travel up your neck and down your groin. “Tell me, my queen, what can I do for you that his majesty, my brother, cannot?”

He brings his face closer to you and you can smell the wine on his breath.You clamp your hands over his in a futile attempt to stop his teasing of your breasts. “Are you drunk?” 

He chuckles low and wryly. “Drunk enough to sneak into the king’s wife’s bedroom in the middle of the night? Yes.” He lets go of you, leaning back and licking his lips. “But not too drunk to be of service.” He palms the crotch of his pants and you can see the bulge that has arisen there.

You sit up and re-cover yourself, suddenly afraid you don’t have the guts to see your plan through to the end. This is not the boy you thought you could control. “Perhaps I have no need for your services. Perhaps I just wanted to see you.”

“You could see me in the daytime, your majesty.” He slips his hand under the hem of your skirt to run slow circles around your ankle bone. Heat snakes up your leg, straight to your core, and you fall backward onto the bed once more. He smirks as his hand begins moving higher up your leg, twirling figure eight patterns up your calf. “We both know that is not why you asked me to sneak past your guards in the middle of the night.”

“It’s been years.” You try to tug your leg away from him, but he grips your thigh and holds you in place. “Perhaps I wanted to see how you were.”

“It has indeed been years.” Your arousal continues to build as he invades higher and higher. “So perhaps I have waited long enough to take what was rightfully mine.”

The muscles in your groin clench as he reaches the inside of your thigh, just above the knee, blocked from further travel by the short pants you wore under your skirt.

“Unless, of course...” He traces slow circles at the junction of your knee. “You want me to leave.”

You’ve never been this wet in the company of a man before. Your husband has certainly never made you feel this way. His hand continues to slide up your leg, searching for the ribbons that will unlock the most intimate part of you. You had planned to seduce the prince tonight, but you had not expected to enjoy it this much. “No, I don’t want you to leave.”

He grins. “I didn’t think so.” His fine fingers find the drawstrings to your pants and pull the knots apart with ease. He slides your undergarments down your legs, leaving you naked beneath your skirt, then pushes your skirt up to your waist so you lie bare before him. 

Your desire for him leaks from you and he can see it, glistening in the candlelight. 

“This”- he cups your sex in his large hand -“this should have been mine.”

You groan as his thumb finds the sensitive nub at the apex of your entrance. He rubs slow circles into you as you rock against his hand, more slick spilling from you as the heat in your groin grows. “I wanted to be yours,” you whisper.

He frowns, brows knitting together, throwing the scar into sharp relief on his face. “Don’t tell me things you think I want to hear.” He stops the circles against you, cupping you instead. “My wounds hadn’t even healed before you wedded my brother.”

“I had no choice in the matter.” You rock against him in frustration, chasing your arousal. Your family had raised you to marry the king, and Yoongi could no longer be king. Kings can’t have scars.

“You could have refused.” He resumes the rubbing of your clitoris with an even faster pace. “You could have run away. I would have found you.”

This time you pause him, stopping his hand with yours and looking him in the eye. “You could have refused to go.”

His eyes unfocus for a moment, staring into the darkness behind you. You imagine that he is feeling all the regrets of those years, the same as you.

The scar that mars his features gleams in the candlelight. The reason the crown prince was replaced. The reason he was not yours every night. You reach out to touch it but he stops you with a hand to your wrist before you reach his cheek.

“Don’t touch it.” He yanks you up off the floor by your wrist and flips you over onto your hands and knees, naked except for the skirt tied around your waist. He doesn’t bother untying it, just flips it up to expose your cunt again.

You groan when his fingers return to your core.

“Is this an unusual position for you, my queen?” You can hear the smirk in his voice even without seeing his face. “Tell me, what position does my brother usually fuck you in?”

He pairs his degradation with a renewed effort to coax your arousal from you. His hands grip your cheeks and spread them, putting you on display even further as he massages the fatty tissue.

“Does he treat you like a queen? Does he take his time to worship you properly?” He brings his mouth to you, tongue diving inside you as his thumb resumes its work on your clit. Your fingers curl into the bed sheets beneath you as you fight to stay upright.

He pulls away as you rock back against him. “Or does he fuck you like the whore he paid for?” He spanks you harshly right on your sex. You have to bite your lip to keep from calling out. The gold rings on his fingers sting, but it doesn’t stop more fluids from leaking from you.

In truth, your husband did neither. The king would visit you when he was drunk, fumble his way through your clothes to access what he wanted, thrust into you enough to achieve his own ends, and then leave. Sometimes he would thank you. Sometimes he wouldn’t bother speaking to you. Mercifully, these visits have become less and less frequent over the years.

“He does touch you, doesn’t he?” Two of Yoongi’s long fingers slide inside you easily, slick with your juices. “Clearly, your virtue is long gone. No virgin would open up so easily for me, would rock back onto my fingers so greedily.”

“He has touched me.” You gasp when Yoongi curls his fingers, pressing along your walls in a way your husband never has. “But not like this.”

“So tell me, my queen...” He pairs the press of his fingers inside you with the resumed pattern on your clit and your legs begin to shake. “Why, in these many long years, has my brother not put a child in you?”

“He can’t,” you gasp, finally spilling the reason you asked the prince here tonight.

“The king can’t have children?” He pauses his movements, but only for a moment, until you wiggle in your desperation for him to continue.

You groan as he curls his fingers again, but manage to nod. “They blame me for it.” The court, your family, your mother-in-law, even your husband himself told you it was your fault. The tide of politics was rapidly turning against you.

“Of course, they do. The body of the king can only be perfect. But you are replaceable.” He smacks your ass in emphasis for this last sentiment. “Surely he has fucked other women in the last five years.”

“He has.”

“But no little bastards run around these halls.”

“No, they do not.”

He pulls his fingers from you and holds them up your face. “Are you fertile today, my queen?”  Your slick strings between his fingers. “Is that why you asked me here tonight?”

“Yes…” Your empty cunt aches for him. “Yes, please, Yoongi…”

His fingers turn your chin to face him as he leans over you. “Then there is indeed something I can give you that my brother cannot.”

And then he kisses you. Soft and firm, hands gripping your neck to hold you against his mouth. It makes you breathless in a whole new way. You are fighting to hold yourself upright by the time he pulls away.

He moves behind you, not bothering to disrobe, but merely pulling his pants down far enough to release his erection. He grips your hips tightly as he  slides inside you.

“God…” he groans, hips stuttering as he seats himself in you. “This… this should be mine. You should have been mine.”

“I am yours, Yoongi, please.” You rock back against, delighting in the fullness of him finally being where you want him.

“Not as you should be.” His long hair tickles your back as he bends over you. “I stayed unmarried for you.” He punctuates each sentence with a thrust into you that grows stronger each time. “I waited for you. I let younger men talk down to me, worn my hair long, all for you. All in the vain hope that I might be yours when I returned. But you couldn’t wait for me.”

The sound of steel on steel echoes through your bedchamber and you startle. Have you been discovered? You try to look around, but Yoongi’s hand grabs your neck to hold you in place. Then you feel the cold bite of metal against the front of your thighs.

“I could mark you too,” he whispers, pressing the flat of the blade against your bare skin. “I could leave you scarred and unworthy like me.” His cock kicks inside you and you groan, trying to hold still despite the overwhelming desire for him coursing through you.

“What would my brother do then?” he muses. “Would he cast you out? Would he admit to the world that I claimed what was his just as he claimed what was mine? Or would he continue to fuck you, every time having to cross the mark I made on you.”

“Do it,” you urge, pressing back against him. “Mark me. Claim me as yours.” You want it. You want to be his and his alone.

There is a long pause. Then the blade is gone as the sword clatters to the floor beside you.

“I don’t need to mark you.” He resumes his thrusts, pace increasing as his grip on your hips tightens. “You’re going to grow round with my child and everyone will see it. They’ll all know and not be able to do anything about it. My son will sit on the throne someday. I’ll come back and fuck you every night until you birth my heir.”

He buries himself deep inside you as he finishes, warm seed pumping into you.

His fingers return to your clitoris, rubbing in firm circles as the last few aftershocks run through him. “Come, my queen, draw my child up inside you.”

You obey, pelvic muscles clenching rhythmically, squeezing hard around his softening cock and milking out the last of his release.

You sigh in relief as you collapse down onto the bed. You curl up on your side, drawing your knees to your chest.

He tuts as some of the white fluid begins leaking from you, running a finger across your sex one last time to gather it up and stuff it back inside you. Your cunt gives one last contented pulse of lingering arousal.

He pulls your skirt back down to cover you, patting your ass as he does so. He draws the bed sheets over you and kisses you one last time on the cheek. “Make sure my brother fucks you in the next few days,” he whispers. He blows out the candle, and then he’s gone.

_______

A/N: Hope you enjoyed that! I know there’s not any actual evidence for the “kings can’t have scars” thing in the historical record. But I needed it for the Angst™! I blame Moon Lovers: Scarlet Heart Ryeo. Thank you for reading! 

[beautifulterriblequeen]

A Tiadrin theory

I woke up this morning with a sudden headcanon about Tiadrin, and as I poked at it, it filled out nicely, so I’m gonna go ahead and call it a theory at this point.

It gets angsty, as all good Moonshadow theories do. If your heart doesn’t weigh 6 tons by the time you reach the end of this post, I didn’t capture the feeling properly.

Several bits of detail flutter around this mysterious woman, and I’ve theorized various versions of her circumstances, her relationship with Runaan and Ethari, her former position before the Storm Spire, the reasons she went there, and the reasons Runaan was so hellbent on avenging her dishonor.

I don’t think any of them landed as well or tied together as neatly as this one, though. Hence “theory” instead of just “headcanon.” Here we go:

FIrstly, some meta information. This is a fun tweet, but in this post I’m looking directly at “belief systems as sources of both comfort and restraint” and at the “weight of guilt” and “cycles of trauma” lines, in regards to Moonshadow culture, and specifically Moonshadow assassin training.

And raise your hand if you’ve been looking further afield than the front-and-center Janaya-with-Soren nod from “ripped women who teach soft boys to stab,” because I have. TDP is full of parallels and imperfect mirrors.

So, in the spirit of soft yet angsty cycles and the ripped women who perpetuate them, Theory Part I: Tiadrin trained Runaan, because she was the leader of the assassins before he was.

She’s referred to as a mastermind. Assassin leaders need to be good with plans of all sizes. We’ve seen how Runaan silently adapts to chaos and doesn’t tell anyone what his new plans actually are. He’s a good leader. But he also had to learn those skills from someone. Whoever instructed him was a tactical genius, and also very Moonshadow, and Runaan was an adept student.

Also, Tiadrin is a goddamn badass. She’s several inches shorter than Lain, Runaan, Ethari, and Viren. But she is a powerhouse in battle. She knows her physics well enough to drag this 6′2″ human battle mage skidding across the floor. Monster thighs, monster intellect.

As a 5′4″ woman who trained in jujitsu for several years, let me just say: gender equality in battle is great, but physics does not care. It will crush your popsicle-stick ass if you try to chuck a 250 lb person across the room and your math is off. The most accurate fighters are the ones who know how hard physics hits back when you’re sloppy.

Tiadrin earned every inch of respect, and every inch of her thigh circumference, the old-fashioned way. She worked for it, all day every day. Runaan does the same thing. He might have half a foot of height on her, but he trains like the world will crush him if he’s not perfect. And that’s very Moonshadow assassin in its own right, because it will, and it tried. Tiadrin knew what she needed. And she knew what Runaan, soft boy that he is, needed. And she made sure she trained it into him, all day every day.

Tiadrin is one of the reasons that Runaan survived the fight in Harrow’s chamber. She made him the fighter he is, the person he is, and that was just enough to pull him through... so he could see his own mentor trapped in a coin. Yay, thanks Viren.

Theory Part II: Runaan’s squad was made up of all the elves Tiadrin has personally trained, or trained by proxy.

If Tiadrin was Runaan’s trainer and mentor, then her honor was his honor. And when she supposedly faltered and fled at the Storm Spire, that suddenly cast him, as an individual assassin and as the current assassin leader, in a terrible light. If his mentor was a coward, what did she teach him? Would he also duck and run when things got hopeless, and abandon his duty?

The doubt that must’ve swirled around him when the village learned the terrible news about Lain and Tiadrin must’ve sliced right through him. Thousand-yard stare, biggest internal Oh No ever. Runaan lives to serve his people, and to have them doubt him, after all he has done to train them and protect them from harm, would be the worst kind of pain. He had to make it right.

But not just him. Assassins seem to take solo missions even for their first kill, if Eljaal’s covered shoulders are any indication. You can Moonshadow your feels if you don’t have to watch your friend kill someone, if you don’t have anyone watching while you stab someone to death. You can pretend it’s all serene and just and smooth and valid and honorable. You can hold to your love of life and dance right past your embrace of death, if no one else sees it. But Runaan’s mission had 6 members. They were definitely going to have to watch each other murder people. Why?

Tiadrin’s honor was their honor. An extended family of brothers, sisters, cousins, fosterlings, anyone who was drawn to Tiadrin, or her to them, bonded together over their family feels and protective instincts. They were family. And then their leader fell, her honor crushed.

They had to make it right.

They all carried Tiadrin’s honor with their own, taught by her personally, regarded as honorable assassins. Until she seemed to have a fatal flaw in her character. Then everyone wondered if that flaw got passed down, too. The assassins had to prove that it hadn’t been, for the sake of their people, and for all of Xadia who trusted them to take out threats in the dark. They had to go set right Tiadrin’s “mistake” and take Harrow for Zym’s death. All of them. Every single one, no exceptions.

No exceptions. That’s why Rayla had to go, too. Tiadrin taught Runaan everything he knew about being an assassin, and when she moved to the Storm Spire, Runaan dutifully passed Rayla’s mother’s teachings to Rayla herself, feeling like part of the family, an essential connection between mother and daughter, between assassin mentor and mentee. He tried to get it just right, just perfect, so Rayla would feel like she’d been trained by her actual mom as much as possible. Not just because Tiadrin was Rayla’s mother, but because Runaan respects Tiadrin’s prowess so much. She was the best, and every bit of Runaan’s efforts to be his best reflects his respect for her.

You don’t get to be the assassin leader unless you’re the best there is. Runaan knows that from both sides. And just like Tiadrin did with him, he does his best to teach Rayla everything she needs to stay safe and alive, so she can do her duty too, and come home safe to her family every day.

And, in the end, part of that duty had to be avenging her mentor’s mentor, her own mother, by accompanying Runaan on his mission. Her lessons were from Tiadrin, one step removed. If there was a flaw in her training, no one would trust her when it was her turn to lead the assassins, and she’s not even done training yet! Rayla understood Moonshadow honor, assassin honor. She was driven to ask Runaan to take her with him, and he could see exactly where she was coming from. Their honor was tangled up with Tiadrin’s. They couldn’t back out. They had to go to Katolis, them and everyone else Tiadrin had trained.

That’s why the binding ribbons came out. They were in a do-or-die situation, in the most literal sense.

They could not go home in failure. If they all failed, it would take out a whole line of assassin training, possibly the same one that had lasted for countless generations (okay maybe we can count them and there are like 30) and crush the Moonshadows’ spirits. And they’d literally rather die than see that happen. They were all ready to give their lives to restore Tiadrin’s honor, and their own, because without her legacy, there would be such a crater in the assassin corps that it might never recover.

Yes, this is basically my angsty “Runaan’s found family went into battle together and most of them died” headcanon again, but this time with a solid theory behind it. I’m not sorry. I love this angsty idea, it’s horrible. Do you see the cycle of trauma? I’ve got one more part to add, which may make it clearer.

Theory Part III: Assassin leaders always go serve at the Storm Spire once they successfully train their own replacement.

In this theory’s version of Why Laindrin Went To The Storm Spire, Tiadrin was always going to end up at the Storm Spire, once she became the assassin leader. That’s where the veteran assassin leader goes, see, to liaison between the dragon throne and the current Moonshadow leader. They know the assassins’ skills far better than any Skywings or dragons do, and they know the leader in charge of them, so they can give guidance or direction as needed, or simply phrase the Dragon King or Queen’s request in such language that the assassin leader knows intuitively what really needs to be done.

Yeah, Tiadrin writing Runaan mission directives. I can see it.

Tiadrin’s mentor would’ve left for the Spire when Tiadrin got promoted to leader. The person she trusted most in the world, who had trained her, left her behind, only to communicate by long distance. Moonshadow deniability, amirite--we’re not stabbing people, we’re sending tactical correspondence, yep that’s it. But Tiadrin was still surrounded by Runaan and the other young assassins, and she bonded with them all, and life was bright.

Then, the shadow came once again. Runaan was an excellent student, and she knew he was ready. Maybe she delayed, and delayed, Moonshadowing her reasons. Maybe she wanted the chance to bring life into the world, to try to balance out some of the death she had dealt. Maybe she wanted a few more years of domestic life in the Silvergrove with all her favorite elves, to bolster her heart for the years to come. Maybe her mentor at the Spire was up to shenaniganry in dragon politics and she wanted to buy them more time to lay those plans in place.

Knowing Tiadrin even the slightest bit, I will assume it was all this and more. But eventually, she couldn’t put things off any longer. She had to go fulfill her duty to the dragon throne and join the Dragonguard as the representative of the Moonshadow assassins who had bound themselves to the protection of Xadia long ago. She had to walk away from her bright life, her family, her friends, her allies, and climb up into that misty stone tower, to spend who knows how long away from everything she knew and loved.

And she did. She chose to walk away, for love of Xadia. She took her beloved husband with her, but she left the Silvergrove, Xadia’s protection, and her own daughter’s upbringing in the hands of the elf she chose to replace her. The soft boy she’d taught to stab, who would teach her baby girl to stab, too.

Because this is The Way.

I know I’ve had an angsty headcanon that assassins don’t retire. But, consider this: maybe one of them can. One of Tiadrin’s many plans could have been counting on Runaan’s extreme prowess and devotion to Rayla. If Tiadrin knew that she could return to the Silvergrove in peace and retire there with Lain once Runaan trained Rayla to take his place as the assassin leader, then she could live in the Silvergrove again for the rest of her life, and also get to see Rayla grown big and strong and become the assassin leader herself, another proud elf in a long line of honor and tradition. She might feel that was a big accomplishment, considering the dangers they all face. And it would be.

Yes, this would hinge on the fact that Runaan would have to leave the Silvergrove to replace Tiadrin at the Storm Spire, to serve as Rayla’s liaison to the dragon throne. Cycles of trauma, remember? Tiadrin can’t have all of her family back in one place, ever again. She has to love and train someone enough to put them through the life that she’s having to live, and she has to be strong enough not to let that break her. And then, she has to choose between them. She chose Runaan first, so that she could hope to choose Rayla later. She trusted him with all the future happiness of her heart. And he did his best with it.

But they didn’t quite make it, in the end, because of Viren.

I know this has been a lot of angst. I know. But there is a moonlit lining to this theory, and I think we all need to consider it. If there is a cycle of taking the assassin leader out of the Silvergrove to serve the dragon throne for ancient promise reasons, then if that ancient promise is ever rescinded or redressed in an effective way, the family won’t need to keep yeeting loved ones out of its orbit. And if assassins cease to be a necessary evil as a result, then no one will have to leave, or stab, again. At least, not for the same angsty reasons. They could stay together and never need to leave again.

It won’t be easy to break such a cycle. It might be impossible. But if anyone can manage it, it’ll be Tiadrin, and her family.

extra headcanon for this theory:

Tiadrin, packing up for the Storm Spire: One last thing, Runaan.

Runaan, stoically attentive because what are feels on the day your mentor leaves you: Yes, Tiadrin?

Tiadrin: Ethari will need to pick an apprentice to replace him, too. He should start looking now.

Runaan: Why? Only the Silvergrove’s Master Craftsman gets to pick an apprentice, and Ethari isn’t--

Tiadrin: *wink” Not yet, he’s not.

Runaan: Tiadrin, please, what have you done?

Tiadrin: I want to come back here someday, Runaan. I want to see your good work with Rayla. And I can’t do that if you flat-out refuse to leave your husband when Avizandum calls for you to replace me. So he needs to be ready to leave, too.

Runaan: I, I, I would nev-- I couldn’t--

Tiadrin: *patting his shoulder briskly as she strides out* Mmhmm, sure thing, kid. The council votes him in next Thursday. Be good while I’m gone! I want to find this place exactly the way I’m leaving it. Lain, honey, get your coat!

Lain, in the next room: Yes, Tiadrin!

Runaan, soft-eyed, to the silence in her wake: Yes, Tiadrin.

[theceltwhopelts]

Makimg a new AU because why the fuck not. Main changes of this is that it merges Deltarune with Earthbound, two of my three favorite games.

Main change is that Deltarune has this wierd thing called PSI. Think of it as if it were Magic, but only certain individuals, more common in Humans, but monsters like Sans do have it, can use it, and they are referred to as Psionics, or Psychics. At base level, a Psychic can only move things around with their mind and use telepathy. Powerful Psychics like King Poo and the deceased couple Ness and Paula, along with Ness' elder cousin Ninten, can heal entire body parts, cause a tremendous amount of lightning to strike from their hands, and even shake stars to send small, 4 foot droplets of plasma hurtling towards the enemy. Other, more specific PSI users tend to practice only a handful of PSI, such as Sans and his powerful Telekinesis, PSI Beams (in replacement of Gaster Blasters because fuck those appearantly, they don't exist in canon of Deltarune as far as I'm aware), and Warpslip Ω, an ability thought to only be usable by Ninten as an Alpha PSI ability, can use far more powerful versions of weaker PSI or more situational PSI, s seen with Sans and his PK Beam Ω, which was thought to be impossible to perform before he performed it.

For those who aren't aware of Earthbound, why haven't you played it, the entire series is actually pretty fucking good, Undertale was inspired by the fuckers. Back on track, for those who don't really know how PSI works, I'll just give the three categories and and four...five power levels. Remember that certain PSI do not follow the rules of Power Levels, such as, before Sans cracked the code, Warpslide being only one power level and only ever being used to teleport short distances away from the enemy. The categories are Offensive, Healing, and Support. Offensive are all psionic abilities that are orientated towards harming your foe, utilizing emotions, energies, or brute psychic power to damage foes. Healing is anything that helps heal the body, either from things like Stone, Diamondization, Poison, or healing body parts. Assist is generally Defense, Ability Enhancers, Shields, and certain variations of signature PSI abilities (Ninten used to have Warpslip, Ness has PK Rockin', with variations called PK Origin and PSI Rockin', two twins, who live in Hometown, recently moved, named Lucas and Claus, have PK Love, and Kris has PK Prankin', subject to change, but that's the only thing I got about their personality other than they were somewhat creepy). Now, Power Levels. Alpha is the weakest level, then Beta is the second weakest. Gamma is basically the highest some go, but is the second weakest. Omega isnthe strongest any PSI user can use an ability at, unless you are a cosmic eldritch deity of hate and evil, then nobody can even comprehend your attacks, let alone take the attack without being basically the universe's chosen hero against said cosmic horror.

Not much else changes, except that Claus and Lucas join the Fun Gang, Ness and Paula are Kris' biological parents, Kris is a Psychic, weak at first and better off hitting things with their sword, but will get to the Lightning Power of his mother in due time, and there is no Snowgrave route. The variation is just Kris being consumed by the idea that their Psionic Powers could reach such levels as to kill gods, and basically abandons all reason and becomes a murderous maniac who electrocutes, incinerates, and freezes all creatures in his path, eventually leading them to become possessed by a piece of Giygas (the aforementioned cosmic horror) and Chara is just out of the picture now because fuck them, they backseated the Genocide Run and couldn't kill Giygas even with a timeline reset. If Chara is evil, then Giygas has mastery over them because he is basically the Incorporeal God of Psionic Abilities, Malice, Hatred, and pure and unbridled Evil. Luckily, that is also an alternate timeline to the canon Deltabound AU.

Anyway, thank you for seeing my rambling about an AU that probably won't ever get updated, see you, bye

[ravenclaw-questions-gone-writing]

Ven’s Idea Outline #1 (Maribat)

Remember that MariDamiJon fic that I mentioned I was going to do for the gift exchange? It’s still bouncing around in my head and Luka decided to join in so I’ve decided to at least make an outline in (assuredly vain) hopes that it will leave me alone for a bit.

Ao3

Part 1

Typical Daminette but Hanahaki style bc I can’t find any Maribat hanahaki fics and I need one and I can’t find any.

Dick and Damian sent to scope out Paris for Hawkmoth related reasons

Jon goes with bc he’s Damian’s emotional support kryptonian but he might arrive later This idea has been removed but I like it so I will share it.

Damian is getting familiar with the new battlegrounds  taking a walk in the park when a girl falls from a tree and lands on top of him

The girl apologizes profusely before explaining that she’s really clumsy and she was just trying to help a kitten stuck in the tree

It’s not love at first sight but Damian appreciates an animal lover and is slightly less of an ass than he would usually be

Might mix this with my Blossom Soulmate AU that I never got around to finishing and posting, now that I think about it

Anyway, Damian helps her get the cat down from the tree

He latches onto this potential information source who is not as annoying as most other people and sticks with her

They become friends friendly acquaintances and he drops by her school to pick up her up after she agreed to show him around Paris.

Debating Lila salt...

Debating Class salt...

If yes: Damian walks into a scene where Marinette  and sweeps Marinette away without a word to the rest of her class

If no: Damian arrives and proceeds to wait for her outside by his motorcycle

Either way, his appearance makes waves in Dupont’s rumor mills

They do not know he’s Damian Wayne, just that there’s a dude who attractive enough to be model with a motorcycle waiting for the schools (tragic, if salt) sunshine fashion princess.

Robin and Nightwing meet up with Ladybug and Chat Noir to offer their help in figuring out who Hawkmoth is, as well as fighting and training.

Full Miraculous court meeting with Ryuko, Viperion, Queen Bee, Carapace, Rena Rouge, Pegasus, Bunnyx, and Monkey king. (Rena Rouge is removed if Class salt. Replaced with Fox!Nath or Fox!Julieka)

Ladybug and Robin get along

About two weeks in Adrien starts officially dating Kagami.

Another week passes and Damian finds out Marinette has been coughing flower petals and her unrequited love is her classmate Adrien Agreste.

She refuses to remove the hanahaki - this version is the standard they can’t fall in love ever again if they remove it.

This revelation makes him oddly uneasy, it isn’t until his own Hanahaki shows up later that night that realizes he understands why.

Damian does a pretty good job of hiding it.

Dick knows something is up but he’s trying to give Damian more space so he doesn’t look into it and trusts Damian would ask him if it’s life threatening

Ladybug notices his discomfort on patrol and they talk

He is surprised to learn Ladybug also has it and Robin comes up with the brilliant idea that they should fall in love with each other.

There is precedent that if you fall out of love with the person, the Hanahaki will go away. But falling out of love is difficult and not easily done. There must be no lingering romantic feelings at all.

Ladybug encourages Robin to chase his crush first, because he at least has a chance if the girl he likes also has it.

Cue the debates

If Ladybug wins: Enter Damian going all out in flirty assassin seduction techniques from his mother - Good Talia that kills rapists, none of that she raped Bruce bs, she actually had a good relationship with Bruce and a mutual breakup because of differing views on killing people - that he’s barely used since his lessons on it in the league and romantic advice from Dick.

He goes full on Bitch-sensei from assassination classroom.

He’s commissioned a shirt from Marinette. She gets to design it however she wants.

It is a long sleeved button up, specifically made to accentuate his muscles without being too revealing.

That’s the shirt he wears when he asks her out with flowers and a stuffed kitten holding a stuffed wood board that says “please date me” He has his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, top button undone. Collar and hair ruffled up for maximum sensuality. He’s got a lot of references between all the people he knows (Bruce, Talia, Selina, Dick, and really his whole family is full of objectively attractive, seductive people he can reference. Just as long as he avoids mimicking their failing romantic habits, he should be fine.)

He tries to be suave about it but is a little too nervous to completely pull it off. It doesn’t matter because Marinette finds it endearing.

On the date, he’s more confident and is able to pull off suave bastard much better but only at the end. He’s a gentleman until the very end, when he leaves her in the bakery

He goes in, and twirls her admittedly short hair around his finger, maintaining eye contact as he presses his lips against her hair - it’s admittedly harder than he expected given how short it is but being so close made it more intimate and the blush on her face was definitely worth it

He leaves in the bakery slightly dazed and counts the date as a success.

Marinette’s mind shut down bc damn that boy is fine and smooth af is flustered and confused as heck but she’s willing to give him a shot

Alternatively: Marinette’s not sure about dating Damian because she feels like she’s just using him to get rid of her hanahaki bc of the idea that Robin had proposed.

Dick is ecstatic that Damian was acting weird because he had a crush and loved helping his brother out with this date planning in the city of love

He doesn’t report it back to the batfam yet because they had a small argument about it and Damian pulled away with the small victory of Dick has to wait until after the first date to tell them.

Damian is glad he Marinette’s willing to give him a chance but he’s worried about Ladybug

he wonders if he should set her up with Tim or Duke, it’d be a shame to lose a friend and hero like her.

Robin brings up his success to Ladybug and asks if there’s anything he can do to help her.

She notes that a friend had actually confessed to her and she’s giving them a chance.

They accidentally compare notes on their dates and that’s their reveal.

If Robin wins: An awkward start that smooths into moonlit dates on the Eiffel tower, dancing on rooftops, an increase in flirting but only after battles, never before it bc they have a professional reputation to keep, increasingly physical training routines, stolen kisses but not on lips until they’re more comfortable with each other.

Fast tracked mutual slow burn which kinda defeats the purpose of a slow burn but whatever

I have realized these ideas are not mutually exclusive.

Maybe Ladybug wins first but Damian fails to seduce Marinette because she has the doubts so they go with plan B and date each other. Ladybug is more comfortable with the idea of dating Robin because they both have Hanahaki and are knowingly using each other to get rid of it?

There is no identity reveal in this version

Complaint Break time: I was writing this to get it out but it keeps growing, wtf.  This is so long and I haven’t even gotten to the main part.

It was supposed to be an established Daminette but I wanted to show how they got together, this was supposed to be like 5 bullet points, 10 tops.

At some point, I’m going to have to mention the rumor that people with Hanahaki are being kidnapped because the flowers that bloom after their death make great medicine but that cures most illnesses and are good potions ingredient whatever, something along those lines. It’s not the ones they cough up but the flowers that grow on the vines constricting their lungs after until they die and only blossom after death. Those flowers that spread the pollen into the air that makes the Hanahaki disease possible.

That’s why people keep it a secret unless they’re going to get the surgery as there’s not other way to treat it.

But that’s a plot point for part 2.

I feel like this is already longer than anything I’ve put out at this point in time.

Back to the story:

Even though they’re dating, the Hanahaki doesn’t go away immediately. It slows and becomes less frequent but there are times when they think of how their love doesn’t return their feelings and the flowers come back with a vengeance and they’re down for the day, possibly the entire week, hacking up flower petals and buds.

(Ladybug Wins version until otherwise stated) It’s during one of these fits that Dick finds out and is angry at this girl playing with his brother’s feelings.

Damian is too busy hacking up bloody flower petals to correct him

The entire batfam and subsequently Superfam now know the batfam’s youngest has hanahaki

Jon is called in and flies in to help keep an eye on his best friend

Bruce, Jason, Tim, and Duke are shocked but they pack up and are ready to go in guns blazing to have a talk with this girl bc the boys might not be on the best terms but that’s their baby brother. The girls stay behind to hold down the fort (because I need more time to get familiar with them before I can confidently write their characters. I’m not too confident about Duke either but I already mentioned him and it’s too late to back out now.)

So, Damian’s brothers and his father track her down to a different park in Paris where Marinette’s hanging out with her friends

They’re incised to find their brother’s girlfriend with another guy’s arm around her, leading her away from the main group of friends

It’s Luka, he’s helping her hide her hanahaki because she assures him that she has it under control and will go with him to the hospital if it becomes too much

They confront the couple

There’s a lot of intimidating posturing and accusations

Batfam is absolutely not prepared for the bloody flowers that spill from her lips - her hanahaki is even worse than Damian’s

Detective bats (correctly or incorrectly, depending on which version happens) put the pieces together and figure they’re dating to get rid of the hanahaki, that is something Damian would absolutely propose

and oh shit, this time it’s not just Bruce that’s adopting someone. They have a little sister now.

Luka explains what he knows about the situation and basically confirms what they’d deduced.

Welp, since they’re here, Hawkmoth has become top priority.

Hawkmoth takes one look at the Miraculous circle and the new set of bats and just- nopes out plus super boy and just nopes out.

Like, he tries but he has no expectation of winning and tries to run instead. It doesn’t work, they have all grounds covered.

I should probably make use of Mayura if I ever do write everything out but she didn’t really leave much of an impression on me tbh and I don’t have a lot of ideas. Maybe if I ever go back and watch it.

Celebratory, on-the-spot kiss between Robin and Ladybug where they do “oh“ and realize the pressure in their chest is finally gone and the Hanahaki is no more.

(Robin Wins) Dick is obliviously happy about little Robin leaving the nest and finding a mate until he finds out both the little heroes coughing up flower petals on their date

then he goes in and mother hens them both, before demanding answers

He’s also less happy about this whole dating thing

Dick can’t do much about Ladybug without revealing her identity but Damian isn’t getting out of it so easily

Dick figures out who Damian’s crushing on and goes to do a little investigating. He is very surprised to see it’s a bubbly, energetic designer girl and not someone... calmer. But then he thinks of Jon and it makes a little more sense

He talks to her, asks about what she thinks of Damian and is pleasantly surprised by her positive view of his brother. He asks if she would go out with him and she coughs up some petals

Now, Dick’s freaking out and why are there so many children with Hanahaki? This is the third one in two days!

fast forward because I’m finally out of ideas for this part

Ladybug knows she’s fallen for Robin, which was the entire point of them dating but she not sure he actually reciprocates or is still trying to forget that other girl.

Or if you went the other way, Robin’s still chasing Marinette but Ladybug now likes Robin and is aware that he’s trying to woo her. So, out of the frying pan and into another for her.

Robin is absolutely having regrets bc he is an emotional wreck and crushing on two girls and this was not supposed to happen, damnit.

A meta gets akumatized and takes out half the miraculous court but turns out the meta’s psychic ability can help track Hawkmoth so its all cool, now that they know what Hawkmoth feels like

Ladybug, Chat Noir, Ryuko, and Robin vs Hawkmoth and Mayura

Nightwing stayed behind to watch the other heroes are no longer brain dead from the battle but boy are they out of it and he has to make sure they get home safe

that does not mean he’s not extremely put out and worried about it since he knows half the team has hanahaki and it may interfere with the fight

Even if the Ladybug suit lessens the hanahaki attacks, they still happen from time to time

For two people who don’t  show up to fight often Hawkmoth and Mayura put up a good fight

Ladybug has an hanahaki attack and Hawkmoth tried to take advantage of it, only to get knocked out by Chat Noir who’s still pissed at his dad for causing this whole thing

Chat Noir and Ryuko are pretty shocked Ladybug has hanahaki, even more her timer runs out and she choses to present it to Robin

Robin is shook

He gets it together and pulls her into a kiss that cures their hanahaki and makes their brains melt

Now Marinette’s kinda confused bc what the other girl

Damian, slightly shifting his mask so she can see who he is: That other girl was YOU

Now Marinette’s the one who’s shook

Note: Chat Noir and Ryuko have both de-transformed at this point and are watching with wide eyes but they do not see who is under that mask. Also, no cameras in this section of the manor bc that would be proof.

They have a lot to talk about but it works out in the end.

the outline above was written out of order bc I had to go back everytime a new idea hit and I cannot be bothered to go back and dodeca-check this thing again just to make sure everything makes sense.

Part 2 (that was supposed to be the main story- finally made it, the starting point. I cry.)

Ok, so, now that Daminette is established and the evil is defeated

Damian returns to Gotham with his girlfriend in tow to introduce her to the rest of his family, despite his better judgement

Jon is happy that Damian is in happy, loving relationship but he’s a bit sad that it’s not him and oop, sunshine kryptonian boy got hanahaki’d.

Same for Luka. (Yes, Jagged will be his dad and a Gothamite.)

Jagged and his kids join them in Gotham bc he has to be there to show his favorite designer niece around to all the best places of his hometown.

Luka finds out Jon has Hanahaki and they bond over the experience

They make a pact to cover each other and get the other to the hospital when it gets to that point

Pining/Simping meetings over their best friends that for some unknown reason seem to lessen the flower coughing over time even though these meetings probably make things worse but they also need vent before it increases again.

Luka and Jon beginning to fall for each other but they think the other is still in love with Marinette/Damian and it’s true that they still hold feelings for their best friends that aren’t diminishing in the sleightest and it’s all very confusing.

It’s even more confusing when we add the new hero in Gotham, Viperion who’s there to continue training with the bats since he’s visiting the area, rescues and lightly flirts with Jon who ended up developing a small crush and Jon realizes he has a type.

So, poor Jon’s now crushing on Damian, Luka, and Viperion

Viperion meets Superboy and the kryptonian doesn’t seem to like him?

Luka’s crushing on Marinette, Jon - still doesn’t know that Damian is Robin. And is kinda curious and a little hurt that the Robin’s oddly familiar kryptonian is actively and obviously avoiding him and that heart song is kind of familiar but different.

Viperion also gains a crush on Robin after watching him take down a thug in a very graceful way - the bird was showing off for his bug and decided to make it a little showier, he accidentally also caught a snake

Ladybug and Robin still flirt but the court - aside from Ryuko and Chat, depending on which version - think that’s just their dynamic, though they do pull Robin aside for a bit to tell him she has a boyfriend now. He assured them it’s fine and he knows, oddly amused at their attempt.

man, I am not original with this identity porn thing

It isn’t until Luka sees Jon again that he puts it together.

Marinette suspiciously notes Luka and Jon been hanging out an awful lot she’s making connections to the time she had hanahaki and Luka covered for her

The pains of befriending deductive genii.

Cue the panic and they accidentally claim they’re dating but it throws Marinette off for now, so it kinda worked?

Hanahaki fic with a fake dating AU. Oops.

Mari decides since she and Damian don’t know this, they must have been neglecting their best friends and double dates are the way to go.

Cue more panic

Unlike Marinette who is willing to trust their word, Damian’s a suspicious bastard who’s kind of dubious and a little salty that Jon didn’t tell him earlier if they’re telling the truth but Mari’s all gung ho about it so he lets it go for now

They go on the date and it is an emotional mess for everyone involved

It starts out fine

Jon and Luka act a bit weird because they have to cover for each other randomly coughing up petals, not to mention they’re on a date with their original crushes without actually dating their original crushes not even mentioning their new crushes and the secret identity reveal that Luka still hasn’t confronted Jon on and Jon’s guiltily thinking about Viperion half the time he thinks about Luka and shouldn’t it be the other way around?

Yeah, so they’re a mess

Damian’s watching them like he’s trying to figure them out and it is not helping but thank god Mari’s distracting him totally on accident

Marinette? She found a random lost kid in Gotham looking for their parents

So now the double date’s been temporarily derailed to help the lost kid

While Damian’s watching Marinette try pass the crying kid off to Jon for a  moment so she can make a phone call to report a lost child but the kid’s clinging onto Marinette, and they exchange looks so Jon calls in the lost kid instead and he’s just struck with the idea of a family with the three of them and some kids

Cue panic time (again)

Ignoring the thought of children, why was Jon in his fantasy?

Luka’s just watching a smitten boy go into panic mode over the trio and while doesn’t quite know what’s going on in Damian’s head, but that was really cute and oh not again

They find the kid’s parents, and the date moves on

Jon’s more comfortable, Marinette wasn’t really bothered in the first place. Luka and Damian are now having crises

Luka makes a joke under his breath in an attempt to calm down before his Hanahaki acts up

It did not help bc Damian overhears and gives a small amused snort that made his heart stutter but hey positive interaction!

Both Marinette and Jon but end up having feelings very similar to the one Damian had earlier when they look over at Damian and Luka’s little interaction - Damian’s giving Luka a small smirk and Luka is entirely embarassed at being heard when he wasn’t hadn’t meant to be.

But then Luka gives Jon a small sign before he excuses himself to the restroom so Luka can run off and cough up his flower petals

You remember that whole thing about the kidnapping people with hanahaki so they die and medicine and things can be collected from the flowers springing up from their corpse thing? Yeah, the kids are in Gotham and there is definitely a group there that has dealings with the trade and someone saw Luka hacking up flowers

but they mark him and pull back to plan instead of kidnapping him then and there bc drama and Jon followed him to the restroom to check on him

Date ends ok and everyone’s kind of an emotional wreck

Damian has surprisingly learned his lesson on miscommunication and guiltily confides his fantasy to her like a parishioner to his priest

Marinette basically goes same and confesses about the moment she and Jon saw his interaction with Luka.

“So, We’re together, and they’re together...and I might be in love with Jon, you think you might be in love with Luka... What now?“ Damian asked, trying to make sense of it all

“We could...” Marinette swallows, “um, all four of us? together?“ she offered meekly. Seeing that Damian seemed to like the idea, she continued. “Y’know, feel out how receptive they are to the idea and then just seduce them?”

Ok, so the temporary communication skills were nice.

Because instead of talking it out with their best friends, they decide to seduce them but to be fair, there’s at least one version of this where Damian got where he did because of seduction.

Between both Damian and Marinette’s phsyical attractiveness, their combined determination and stubbornness, Damian’s assassin seduction knowledge, and Marinette’s fashion ability and tactical knowledge of where to accentuate what, Jon and Luka have no chance of leaving pining hell for the foreseeable future.

Marinette doubles down on the “double dates” aka, seduction plans in action and group hang outs, aka much more softer, subtle seduction plans

Marinette and Damian do not do much seeing how receptive they are and really just jump right into the seduction, except they adjust the plans so Luka and Jon don’t catch on so Daminette couple thinks it’s ok to go all out.

Cue seduction and pining hijinks, and a whole lot of bloodly flowers and plenty of internal screaming

Damian learns that Luka might not be too bad in the group and Jon is panicking because oh shit he’s got another crush and it’s his best friend’s girlfriend.

the quartet’s love issues are really full circle... or whatever this shape is supposed to be. Because there’s still the whole Viperion/superboy thing and - i just... I’m not going to keep analyzing this.

Somewhere during this, Jon confesses his feelings this particular friend group to Con, leaving out the whole Hanahaki thing. Con tells Tim for advice on being a big brother and things happen but I’m not sure what. I just want TimCon and the Superboys bonding

So a couple weeks pass by the Hanahaki’s getting pretty bad and Luka suddenly goes missing

Ladybug and the bats are on it as soon as they realize he’s gone

Except they are missing one, very important piece of information

Luka’s hanahaki

So, for the next few days, they don’t get anywhere until Jon slips up and ends up coughing up a shitton of bloody flowers which leads to panic, confusion and explanation, bc wtf Jon, you’re supposed to be dating Luka and that’s definitely not unrequited

So everyone gets the full explanation, the final piece of the puzzle snaps into place and the bats are on it.

Marinette and Damian have to put aside that whole revelation in order to track and save Luka before he dies of Hanahaki

They both make sure to kiss Jon first so he doesn’t get handicapped by his hanahaki like Ladybug did but he and Luka will be on thin ice once they get Luka back

So it’s pretty much a race against time bc they don’t know how bad Luka’s hanahaki is

Tracking, beat up bad guys, possible magic related villain(s) searching for potion ingredients that may take harm Superboy more than than if they weren’t there

They rescue Luka or Luka and Ssass break out as Viperion and meet them halfway.

Hey, the identity reveals!

 Either way, at the end of it, Luka ends up with Ladybug and the unconscious and they have to wait until he wakes up to administer the kiss/cure bc it doesn’t work if one party is unconscious

which sparks an interesting idea of a sleeping beauty-cinderella style hanahaki fic where it would work if they’re unconscious, and the patient has to find go out to find who cured them and I’ll have to adjust some other rules of the hanahaki disease such as who can cure it but goddamn it

So while Luka’s out, Marinette and Damian confront the possibly injured but very much awake Jon

Once Luka wakes up and is brought up to speed, they take care of his hanahaki and work out the new boundaries of their new relationship

Part one is longer and I’m a bit put out by that. This made much more sense in my head but if you got this far, my rambling must have made some sort of sense.

[sadoeuphemist]

Stories I thought about writing, but didn’t:

my voice is poisonous, a gift from a strange god my parents once befriended. I’m careful not to speak, but I know they’re afraid.

A poison-voiced girl is born to deaf parents, but falls in love with a hearing boy. Their courtship is marked on her end by a thrilling restraint, biting her lip, knowing she could kill him with an indiscretion; he, on the other hand, longs to see her act without inhibition. He manages to make her laugh, sigh, gasp out in wonder - each time he falls ill from the poison of her voice, but is undeterred even in his convalescence, returning renewed in his goal to tease another sound out of her.

Her parents tell her to break it off; she’ll kill him. She reluctantly agrees. He refuses, pleads with her, grasps her hands so she can’t sign. In anguish she cries out his name — but lo! he does not sicken, does not die. It turns out his repeated exposures to her voice have mithridatized him against it. She can speak around him freely! They both agree that this development has taken a lot of the excitement out of the relationship, but it has been replaced with a greater casualness and intimacy that balances it out.

I can see the angels in their true form, a thousand splendid eyes and all. They think it’s funny, and have taken to hanging around my apartment 

The angels start making excuses to keep showing up at my apartment, in the manner of the annunciation, but for increasingly trivial reasons. They come bearing tidings about how I should definitely get the turkey wrap for lunch, which brand of fabric softener I should buy, how that quarter I’ll find on the sidewalk is a sign that I am favored by God. They come bearing bad tidings too: The Lord has heard of all the evil in your printer, and has sent us here to jam it. Their presence becomes completely overbearing, but they are insistent. There’s a reason you see us in our true forms, they say, all their splendid eyes shining. Is it so hard to believe that the God that formed every atom of you in the womb should watch over you always, that every mundane moment of your existence in this world is shot through with the divine?

There was a body in the river, ice cold and snow white. Sometimes it was all the way dead. Sometimes it sat up and talked to me.

A king has declared that whoever can complete the following tasks shall marry his daughter: 1) to recover a lost treasure stolen from his family hundreds of years ago; 2)  to name the start of the pact between men and horses; and 3) to find a cure to the plague ravaging the land.

Our plucky folk hero helps an old lady who sits by the river; she tells him of the snow white body within, who has sat up and spoken to her at odd times throughout her life. It is the spirit of the glacier: the glacier melts, and forms the river; layer by layer the past frozen in it is uncovered, parts of it living and parts of it dead. Our hero builds many bonfires and melts the glacier faster; the body lives and dies and lives many times over and tells him the three answers. 1) The thief fell into a crevasse and was frozen over; the ice is melted now, and the treasure can be recovered. 2) Iron horseshoes frozen in the glacier reveal the pact is many thousands of years old. 3) The plague is an old one, frozen and released anew with the glacier’s melting; it is carried in the livestock, and they must be slaughtered.

The hero solves the king’s tasks and marries his daughter. Presumably the new king is then faced with the challenge of the rising sea levels; no idea how that plays out.

“We’re all nice to each other here,” they told us, “we’ve got angels in the hills. They like it when we’re nice. And they see everything.”

This one’s tough to summarize adequately. Two men are going door to door, seemingly taking a survey of the religious beliefs in a small town. They finish, sit together in their car. People have been very cooperative. One of the men remarks that the local religious beliefs are disappointingly unremarkable: yes, they believe in angels watching from the hills, but most people believe in an omniscient God watching over them, and whether it is God or his intercessors, does it make a significant difference?

They sit in the car. Perhaps they smoke in the lazy sunlight. They have finished their survey ahead of time. One of them proposes: Suppose we have a picnic lunch up in the hills?

They park at the base of the hill and walk up. Lovely day. They spread out a blanket from the car, stretch their legs out on the grass, take off their coats, loosen their ties. They’ve brought their packed lunch, sandwiches, a thermos of lemonade. They talk about how pleasant all the people were. Their kind of religion seems so ... brittle, one of the men remarks. If I thought there was someone waiting to punish me the moment I stepped out of line, I’d want to do something horrible just to get it over with.

You think so? says his partner. I think just the opposite. The grand problem with religion is that there aren’t enough consequences for wickedness. I know if I saw the wicked being smote down on a regular basis, I would very satisfied in my religion indeed.

Well, of course you would; you’re a sadist.

Me? A sadist? Hardly.

You’re a sadist, his partner says teasingly. A sadist and brute.

They smile at each other. Idle conversation. There is a suggestion that they have visited many such towns and cities, asking the same question, but have yet to receive a satisfactory answer. At one point one of them notes that there’s something in the trees, but this remark is ignored and nothing is ever made of it. The conversation turns back to whether the angels in the hills are real or not. The ‘sadist’ stands up, declares his intent to do something wicked to test them. He marches around, swinging his arms, then looks around at the trees and puts his hands on his hips and laughs.

You know, up here away from society, he declares, I can’t think of a single wicked thing to do!

(Maybe a conversation here about how he could tear branches from trees, despoil the scenery, find an animal to kill; but then again animals in nature strip bark from trees, kill each other bloodily all the time, tear each other to bits, so how wicked could that be, really?)

He looks down at his partner still lying back on the blanket. Unless, of course, I were to do something wicked to you.

Whatever happens next, it is very leisurely. The scene is easy, very relaxed. Lovely day. Calm. Bright blue sky. Clouds float across it, white like feathered wings, and then pass, leaving not a trace behind.

None of us can imagine what life was like before the Clocks came, before clockwork cities, and all their technology. They rebuilt our crumbling society, in perfect, mechanical order. 

Brief musings on a hypothetical pre-Clock society. A society built around the sun, all buildings roofless, everyone’s necks craned upward. Cities built running north to south so as not to block anyone’s view of the rise and set. A society built around hourglasses, everyone judging the passage of time by the sand puddling around their feet, knees, waists, clambering up onto growing dunes, waiting for the flip, for the sand to slowly drain away and the furnishings of their homes to be uncovered. Perhaps this was our unimaginable life before the Clocks came: sands stretching far away and bare, the hypothetical counterpart bulb of an hourglass reflected invisible above us, empty and vast with unrealized possibility, waiting to be reset.

When I was very young, I met a bear at the edge of the woods. Before I could play dead, it bowed to me.

Jokey little fic where a child is instructed on the etiquette of bears: when to bow, when to curtsy, when to raise your hands and make yourself as large as possible, when to climb a tree, when to play dead. (Note that grizzlies are territorial, so if they attack you and play dead they’ll leave you alone because the threat is neutralized; whereas black bears are not territorial, so playing dead will do no good because a black bear will only attack if it deliberately wants to fuck you up.)

I was given very specific instructions. Go to the rosebush on a clear night. As the moonlight turns the roses silver, feed them three drops of blood.

After years of trying for a child, a couple turns to an old witch to help. The woman is instructed to eat a rose from a magical rosebush. If she first pricks her finger and stains the rose red with her blood, then she will have a son, ruddy and robust and bold in battle; if she visits the bush on a clear night and eats a rose painted silver by moonlight, then she will have a daughter, as pale and graceful and elegant as the moon.

The woman is uneasy with the implications of this binary, and says so. The witch smiles and gives her a new set of instructions. So she pricks her finger at night, her blood painted black by the moonlight, and nine months later gives birth to a child as black as a rose, who is neither boy nor girl.

Never manged to come up with a plot for this one. The kid grows up to have a career fulfilling all those “Neither man nor woman” prophecies? Eh. Kinda corny. There’s something about gender roles in fairy tales here, but I couldn’t put it together.

Not for the first time, the company time loop drill had gone very, very wrong.

I did actually write a response for this one, but it got too long and I gave up on it. Summary of the rest of the idea I had:

Time resets. Nagle confirms that it is both an actual time loop and a drill; the company is doing a controlled time loop to prepare them for the real thing. People complain. What’s the point of a drill when an actual time loop would let you keep doing things over and over until you get it right? Nagle points out that could take years, subjectively, and that this is a controlled experience where he has a code to abort the exercise if anything seriously goes wrong. He insists they try to make it work.

They go through a bunch of loops. Don’t succeed. It’s highly technical stuff that none of them are trained for. Morale drops. People start complaining, they’ve spent hours at this, they should be off duty by now. Nagle points out there’s a ruling, established with VR training, that companies don’t need to pay their employees according to their subjective experience of time, and officially they’ve only spent 34 minutes at this.

More loops. Morale drops further. People start demanding Nagle use the abort code, threatening to quit. Nagle points out that while they’re in this time loop, their actions are consequence-free, but once he ends the loop they’ll have to live with their decisions for the rest of their lives. Are they sure they really want to quit?

At that point someone loses it and kills Nagle. Shock. Panic. Some satisfaction. He’s reborn the next loop, starts screaming about it - someone kills him again. Complete social breakdown. Eventually some people decide, fuck it, let’s just live in this loop forever. Killing Nagle becomes a standard thing they do at the start of every loop, so that he can’t input the abort code. They go through various reconfigurations of their social group - orgies, riots, open paranoia where everyone colonizes a different part of the building, regressing to primitivism, open warfare between various sects, rebuilding of society along different axes of thought. Everyone starts thinking of themselves as immortal, they start calling themselves things like ‘Chronobog of the Infinite Plane of Despair�� or whatever; the narration gets increasingly surreal.

After god knows how many cycles of this, everyone finally achieves an equilibrium of perfect enlightenment. They know what must be done. They leave Nagle alive, he watches as they move in perfect unison to unlock the server room and overcome all the obstacles and repair the tachyon servers, loop is finally terminated, normal flow of time resumes.

Nagle stands up, gives a speech, starts congratulating them on completing the drill. As he talks, everyone can feel the rapport they’ve built start to slip away - they no longer understand each other perfectly outside of the context of those 34 minutes. Time is moving forward again, and with it introducing unfamiliarity, uncertainty, an impossible onslaught of variables that they cannot predict or prepare for, and they are all moving inescapably further from each other even as they glance around and try to catch each other’s eyes and keep holding on to that feeling of perfect unity - but it’s too late now, they are strangers behind familiar faces, all of them heading in their own directions, going to be returning to their own separate lives; that moment of solidarity they had is past.

And then Nagle claps his hands at them and says, “OK, drill’s over, everyone back to work!”

[peachyteabuck]

a king is first a man [snippet]

summary: thor’s fighting a double-fronted war, desperately attempting to quell the flames of a revolution, and is grappling with his father’s long-since murder on the battlefield all those years ago. somehow, none of that compares to the trouble of his new queen. 

this is a commission for @empyreanwritings​ who commissioned a snippet from the full work.

pairing: thor odinson x reader

words: 2507

trigger warnings: medieval au i did very little research for, brat taming that includes spanking as a punishment, allusions to breeding kink, angst related to social position if you squint. 

notes: major credit to @spacelabrathor​ for allowing me to steal this concept and write a full fic for it. she’s legit the best and i can’t thank her enough for putting up with me - both in relation to this fic and the rest of our friendship. she’s legit THE shit and deserves everything. 

ask box / masterlist / commission info / ko-fi

She walks with the grace one would expect of someone like her: educated, precise, bored. Her back is straight as an arrow, feet silent, smile barely touching her cheeks as she hangs her head in feigned sorrow. In the dim lighting of the “secret” (known only to the highest of servants, the king himself, and, apparently, her) hallway she looks kind, mournful. If Thor did not know better, he might have offered his regards, asked if there was anything he could do to bring one of those toothy grins back to her bright face.

Unfortunately, Thor does know better. He knows as much about her as he does his greatest enemy – what they teach all the generals to learn before undertaking something serious as war: motivations, desired outcome, what leverage she holds over the throne and anyone dumb enough to occupy it. He knows what she thinks, why she thinks it, what she thinks will happen.

Despite this plethora of knowledge and years of military training and etiquette classes and warning from those he trusts the most, Thor loses himself as he backs her into the wall, never touching her but commanding the space between them with precision – just as he yields a sword during battle.

That’s how his heart feels, too, pounding in his chest as if his ribs were the bars separating him from his captor. He can feel heat course through his body, his hands flexing as flint strikes steel in each of his veins. He wonders, for a brief moment, if he is dying – if she had poisoned him just to fall into the very seat she claimed she loathed. No – he quickly realizes. That would be too easy. If she were to kill him, were to stop his heart or slit his throat or plunge his father’s sword into his chest, then were would be no game for her to play; there would be no place for her lightning to strike whenever she wished. She – Gods forbid – would be saddled with responsibility, something her childish bones could not handle. Like a house with no foundation she’d crumble, curling in on herself as servants and soldiers and saddle hands all pried for her attention.

“What?” she questions, arms folded across her chest. Her brow is furrowed, jaw set as she breaks Thor’s thoughts and wretches him back to the moment – back to her. It’s always her, isn’t it? Always has to be her, ever since she arrived on that carriage and turned her nose up at him and refused to kiss the family ring.

“You know what,” he snarls back at her, teeth bared as he leans in close enough to smell whatever the chambermaids had placed in her morning bath. Yesterday it was lavender – light and airy as she explored the castle as if she was a ghost peering through a window. Today was something stronger, something that bites at Thor’s nostrils just as she bites at his patience. “You know you are not supposed to attend meetings of a royal nature unless specifically given permission.”

Thor watches her carefully, watches as she doesn’t even flinch as she lets out a small laugh, rolling her eyes before returning the king’s gaze. It’s odd to see someone like her – someone so young – look back at him with such fire, determination. It had taken him years to reach that level of confidence, to develop the will to stand up to someone as powerful as himself. He can’t tell if he’s furious or impressed or both. Either way, he refuses to let her get the best of him.

Thor grabs her by the back of her neck, quickly flipping her around so her cheek is pressed against the smooth, cold stone, her hands pressed against the wall near her sides.

“If you want to act like a child-“ Thor hisses as each hand pins one of her wrists. “I am going to treat you like one.

The second she’s picked up and tossed over his one of his broad shoulder, she does her best to contort an exit for herself, thrashing and kicking like a cat that had been plunged into a freezing river. Thor, though, maneuvers her as if she was some inert object he was placing on a newly dusted shelf, keeping her wrists pinned behind her back and avoiding the kick of her heel as he carries her into the large chambers they now – whether she liked it or not - share. When he steps through the threshold, he ignores her cries for a moment longer, taking in the scent of her that had filled the room as he notices mused linen bedsheets and pillows strewn across the room, despite knowing it had been made by ever-attending servants when she had gotten up from her midday nap.

Had she been touching herself before she interrupted Thor’s meeting with the council? Had she plunged three fingers into her dripping center, chasing the world’s sweetest pleasure? Had she thought of her husband while she gushed over her hand? Had she whispered his name so the servants would not hear her shameful lust, or had she screamed it – hoping one of them would call upon him to make her stop? Did she think that they thought he had that much power over her?

Thor shakes his head, returning to his original mission. The king smoothly navigates the large room while making sure his bride doesn’t knock anything over (she had ordered many a plate of treats while she was alone, barely picking at any of them, even as the carts the servants placed them on filled the room). Like the minotaur in the maze, he carries her with ease. In the back of her mind she can’t help but admire that – as if he can predict her every physical movement with precision, even before she knows exactly what her flailing limbs plan to do.  

Without warning, she’s dropped onto the center of the large bed. She sees her chance of escape, but her hope is quickly squashed when Thor grunts as he moves to pin her down, grabbing both of her wrists in one of his large, war-bitten hands. Something inside her can’t help but flutter as he manhandles her into the position Thor believes befits her behavior, one where he sits at the edge of the bed while her stomach is laid upon his muscular thighs. Her thin dress is torn without so much as a shrieking RRIIIIIPPP – as if even the fabric is surprised how efficiently it is ripped off the newly-appointed queen’s body. It sends a shiver down her spine, the knowledge of the king’s strength and size rusty in its age but easily shined with each exercise of Thor’s power.

“All you brats are the fucking same,” he growls through grit teeth as his large hands lay sharp slaps over her thin underclothes, preparing her for the punishment to come. “You push and you push and you get what’s coming for you and then you act as if you’re innocent.”

The queen gulps, still attempting to free her hands while her legs kick. Thor just laughs at her, pushing her wrists harder into the small of her back as he continues to smack her plump ass.

“Keep trying, my little morning dove,” the nickname given to her by the driver of the carriage she had road in on all those days before falls from his lips like blood after a swift kick to the face, pooling onto her back and in her center. “Eventually you’ll run out of fight and then this will go much easier.”

She huffs, dramatically yelling as the last of her fabric protection is stolen from her, exposing her to hot air in the room. “What on Earth are you talking about!? I didn’t do anything!”

Thor just snorts, leaving a few more smacks against her bare flesh. “This little innocent act you’ve been playing up all these years? It isn’t going to work on me.”

She scoffs, her next inhale sharp as his favorite battle sword with one final slap being laid against her. “I…I-“

The king just laughs deep in his chest, his hand moving from the round of her ass to between her now-trembling legs. Each ounce of golden defiance that once replaced the blood in her veins seemed to disperse as he touches her there, gathering the slick that dripped onto his pants. Suddenly, the clothing feels much tighter than before (though, whether it had occurred in that instant alone was unlikely) as he watched the pads of his wettened fingers reflect the torches along the wall. His face heats as the corners of his lips turn up into a smile – though he suspects the fires are not to blame.

“You took your retribution well,” he tells her, letting go of her now limp wrists to rub at the heated skin. She moans, pressing her face into the thickest gathering of blankets her limited movement grants her, last taste of insolence drying on her tongue. “I think I should show you what those who behave are rewarded with.”

She’s unable to process his words before she’s flipped again – Thor now on his feet while she remains on the bed, though now flat on her back. She’s completely bare but finds no shame in her exposure, watching her husband with fevered attention as he rips his shirt from his body.

Thor’s barely able to pull his linen pants under his ass before she’s begging for him, mumbling something that falls between a prayer and a spell to beckon the king closer to her – words low and desperate as they’re spoken into the heated air between them. He’s so hard it hurts, like his shoulder after he gets a newly weighted sword or his calves when he rides a new horse. It’s this simmering thing inside of him, water in a cauldron close to boiling but not quite there; his whole being existing on the precipice of something he can’t quite identify.

It’s not as if he has the time for introspection, though, because the second the air hits the skin of his hardened cock and she’s grabbing at him and pulling him to her, inside of her and for the first time since he was considered too young to be king his mind is-

Blank.

His mind is blank with a white-hot fire that blinds him as his guttural moans form a symphony with hers. Neither of them speak, neither of them can, brains preoccupied with their bodies and their bodies preoccupied with each other. It feels like battle almost, some carnal instinct commanding his every move while whatever consciousness keeps him tethered to the present surrenders itself to some orgiastic impulse. For the first time in a long time the monarch feels himself lose control as his hands roam her heated skin, as his war-torn palms feels the supple flesh of her chest and pinch at her pert nipples.

She inhales sharply at the small pinch of pain, the way she clenches around him encouraging him to continue.

“Oh!” she moans, loud and unabashed.

Thor had not taken a woman in a long while, too busy with his duties as king. He had moved bedrooms, in fact, since the last time he’d bed anyone, and had no idea whether the architecture granted him privacy from the staff. However, just as you practically waltzed into his highly contentious meeting, Thor allows himself to grunt and roar and curse without pity for the ears of those within the rest of the large castle.

One of his hands plants itself in the sheets, using it for balance as the other moves to rub at the most sensitive part of her. He revels in her screams of pleasure, in her pleas for him not to stop don’t stop don’t stop it’s yours take it please take it please!

A sense of pride swells in Thor’s chest, blossoming with the soil of watching her switch from rebellion to subservience with him having to do so little in such a short period of time.

Tightening in his abdomen distracts him from his preening, hips chasing the same peak she seems to be close to.

Thor tries to piece himself together enough to ask a question he wishes he didn’t have to. “Where do y-“

“Inside of me!” she immediately gasps, voice strained and desperate. “Please!”

Just as he wishes she would, he does exactly as he is told with nearly no hesitation – unloading inside of her just as she screams with her own release.

If the palace occupants could not hear them before, they surely heard the married couple then as they both shouted in vulgar unison. Deep and animalistic and wonderful, they both pant as they fall into a breathless kiss.

Her high recedes like the lake that runs through the kingdom at the beginning of dry season – slow and deliberate and leaving her with a dry mouth. She stares at the ceiling, noticing for the first time that a map of the kingdom has been painted there. It seems, just as she views the room, that she sees the rest of the world with a sharper eye; she wonders that if she were to be escorted outside by one of those ghastly ladies in waiting outside, she would see the night sky with more precision than ever before. If she could sift through the darkness, would she be able to draw the stars? If she were to look back down to Earth and attempt to traverse the forest, could she watch the fauna as they walked through the pitch black?        

“Drink this,” Thor’s gruff voice cuts through the thick fog in her brain, handing her one of those obnoxious chalices. The metal and jewels adorning it are cooled by the chilled water inside of it, and she wonders how it stayed so cold despite the heat in the room. “You need to keep a clear head.”

She gives a little snort as she gulps the water down, small droplets spilling from her lips and down between her breasts. It takes all of the king’s minute willpower not to drink that down, too. “Why would I need that?”

Thor…does not have an adequate answer to that, at least one he can articulate. There’s a sense of dread that settles into his gut, winds its way through his gut and makes him feel queasy. He wonders if she hates Asgard just as her mother presumably hates his new wife’s home kingdom, if Thor had done something so devastatingly wrong to this poor young woman and the both of them would have to live in the choice forever.

“You know, if you’re going to spiral each time I say something like that, I’m going to need to behead you,” she jokes as she places the chalice back in Thor’s hands. Her arms shake just a little as she does so.

It takes a long while for the man to respond.

[vermilionskiinmorning]

𝕺𝖆𝖙𝖍𝖘 𝖔𝖋 𝕷𝖔𝖞𝖆𝖑𝖙𝖞||TLK Fic|| FinanxOC||Seven

AN: This story is basically writing itself at the moment which is great. I intended so much more to happen in this chapter and somehow it ended up being an absolute emotional roller coaster instead. Though some important stuff does still happen. (I may just be subconsciously delaying Gisela’s death. I do love her so much.) Anyway as always your thoughts are always appreciated :)

Story Summary: Tove chose to surrender rather than be killed, after Sigfried was defeated at Beamfleot, giving herself up to the mercy of the Saxons. Thanks to Finan’s intervention, her life is indeed spared and she is brought into Uhtred’s service. With the sting of defeat fresh on her tongue and her new life fighting for the Saxons secured; Tove is left wondering what tricks the Gods have in store for her next.

Words: 5660

Æscengum was where King Alfred intended to defeat Bloodhair. Upon receiving word, the Bishop sought out Uhtred to convey their King’s decision and request for troops. Together they stood on the top terrace landing to one of Lunden’s Roman houses looking out over the city. They were not alone as Finan was also there, but the Irishman was content to listen in silence while they spoke.

“Æscengum!” Uhtred barked.

Erkenwald shot a scathing look in Uhtred’s direction and rebuked him for his amused tone. Predictably, Uhtred did not seem to care much for the Bishop’s admonishment, merely waiting for the sour man to continue, and he did.

“Our Lord King,” he began. “Has called for you and some of your warrior to join him. If the safety of this city is ensured in their absence.”

“It is,” Uhtred assured.

Though his Lord did not indicate it aside from his quick response, Finan knew Uhtred was galvanized that Alfred had finally called for him. It had been weeks since Danes had first been spotted, yet all Wessex had done was assemble their army and wait.

“Haesten will not attack?” Erkenwald pressed.

“He won’t.”

Their conversation continued apace for a few more minutes, with the Bishop questing Uhtred until he felt certain Lunden would be safe. The matter then settled, Erkenwald took his leave of their presence, having no desire to dawdle in the pagan’s company. Uhtred and Finan watched him walk off -the waiting priests trailing behind until he was out of sight.

“Æscengum?” Finan commented mildly then.

“It is between Harald and Haesten’s forces,” Uhtred responded dryly. “They’ve marched their army across Wessex and accomplished nothing.”

Finan hummed absently. “Æthelred?”

“Perhaps.”

“Will Harald go there?” Finan asked, knowing the answer.

Uhtred shot Finan a meaningful look.

“I didn’t think so.” The Irishman chuckled.

Silently both men contemplated the merit or lack thereof to the supposed plan. It was spectacularly unlikely to succeed given that with the West Saxon army virtually out of their way, Bloodhair could simply continue to raid as much as he liked. Of course, to defeat Alfred had its draw, but the Danes were not the sort with an appetite for sieges, and to attack Æscengum would be a siege. That burh was relatively small and lay in the heart of Wessex, where it served to protect Winchester from the east. It had high strong walls and palisades, and if Harald had half a brain, he would leave Alfred to sit behind them while he enriched himself.

Finan soon found himself wondering what Tove would have to say about the plan when she heard. Surely, she would see the flaws and balk at its absurdity. The thought of it brought a small smile to his face.

“I’m going to ask Tove to stay behind,” Uhtred said suddenly.

Finan looked at him sharply. “She won’t like that.”

Uhtred’s answering look was hard. “Probably not.”

It was not difficult for Uhtred to read in Finan’s face that he wanted to ask why but was reluctant to question his judgment.

“I’ll need someone to stay with Gisela and the children.” Supplied Uhtred.

“No other reason?” Finan ventured.

“They get on well.”

Finan nodded. That much was true as the two had bonded over being pagan Danes among the Christian Saxons and were friends. Though there was another reason that neither Uhtred nor Finan was willing to directly voice. While it was their nature that the Danes squabbled routinely amongst themselves, Tove had not faced any Danes on a real battlefield since joining Uhtred’s household, and he felt somewhat cautious of putting her in such a position.

It was not because he doubted her loyalty to him or capability as a warrior. More specifically, he did not want to put her in a position that might cause her to hesitate and, therefore, be injured or killed. Uhtred knew avoiding that eventuality with Harald breathing down Wessex’s throat would not be possible for long unless he was defeated. So, despite knowing Tove would likely curse him for keeping her away, he would do what he could for a time -as her friend and Lord.

Several hours before the sunset, Uhtred found her seated on a bench in the yard wiping dirt from her face with a damp cloth. Since the night Finan had brought her back from the woods, Tove was changed, and Uhtred had noticed -though it was subtle. Not only had she returned to her more cheerful self, spending time again with the other warriors and with Gisela, but he perceived some of the heaviness she carried since Scaepege had been lifted from her shoulders. Finan had not shared the details of that night with Uhtred though it did not take one of much wit to determine the improvement was thanks to him. That was why Uhtred had chosen to share his plans with Finan before seeking her out. He trusted that had the Irishman any reservations about his decision, he would have voiced them then.

Tove let out a laugh at something Sihtric had said as Uhtred approached them. She sat next to Osferth, who Uhtred noted, was also covered in dirt with Sihtric across from them. All three seemed to be rather enjoying themselves.

“I slipped!” she exclaimed.

“You can’t lie to me,” Sihtric teased. “I saw it. Osferth used your own trick against you. Kicked your foot right out from under ya!”

“What’s this I hear? Tove Ødgersdottier has been beaten by a monk?”

Sihtric jumped at the chance to recount the story. Speaking with hardly concealed amusement, he filled in his Lord on the details of Osferth and Tove’s spar. She threw a weak glare at the half-Dane when he chuckled at the part where Osferth had copied the move she had used to win their first practice duel. Using his shield, he had pushed hard, causing her to stumble, thereby allowing him to kick a foot out from under her. When Sihtric had finished, Uhtred chortled good-naturedly.

“You cannot fault him for having learned from your style.” Uhtred pointed out.

Sihtric nodded and attempted to console her. “It is a clever trick.”

“Aye.” Tove agreed. “And you did well, baby monk.”

Having kept quiet up to that point, Osferth smiled and thanked her. Inclining her head slightly, Tove smiled in return.

“You are unhurt?” Osferth asked.

“Do not worry for me, friend. A sore backside will not slow me down.”

Before Osferth or Sihtric could reply, Uhtred interrupted. “I need to speak with you for a moment, Tove.”

Nodding, she got to her feet and followed her Lord without question. He led her out of the yard towards the armory to stow away the training staffs. There was only a young man inside when they arrived, and he left after replacing his stave in its proper place. Tove lingered momentarily, glancing at Uhtred, before going to set the staffs on their rack. Uhtred was not one to hesitate for lack of words though, he felt the need to choose them carefully for the news he was to deliver.

“Lord?” Tove asked when the silence became intolerable to her.

Brow crinkling some, he scratched his chin.

“Is everything alright?”

Uhtred dropped his hand, focusing on her face. A faint concern shadowed her otherwise calm expression as she awaited his answer.

“I received word from Alfred.” Uhtred paused before clarifying. “It is the king’s wish that I join him at Æscengum.”

Pointed as his words were, they also seemed meant to convey more than their obvious meaning. What meaning was, was not readily apparent to Tove. She made no effort to conceal her confusion from him.

“This is good news, is it not?”

“It is. The sooner Bloodhair is dealt with the better. But-” Uhtred heaved a sigh. “I need you to stay here.”

Comprehension dawned on her and a small frown rose to her lips.

“I want you to guard Gisela and my children. It will be you, along with Cerdic and a few others.”

“I understand, Lord.” Said Tove in a carefully calm tone, which surprised Uhtred a little.

Tension Uhtred had not realized he carried, released in his shoulders. “It is because I trust you to see that they are safe.”

Tove’s answering smile was gentle, and she bowed her head with respect. “I will.”

Uhtred nodded, and taking that as her dismissal, she left without another word.

After exiting the armory, Tove wandered aimlessly through the streets. All around her were Lunden’s citizens going about their daily life with little care for what happened out in the wider world. Part of Tove wished that was her lot, but her subconscious knew she would not be content with that sort of life. Both of her parents had been warriors; she and Kåre took after them in that regard. If she found a man and settled down, Tove imagined she would still be a warrior even then. So, the realization that her friends would be heading off to battle without her was a difficult one to swallow.

Of course, they would keep each other safe, but not being able to be there, all Tove was liable to do was worry. It occurred to her that that must be how Igna felt every time Kåre sailed. She did not like it.

That evening Tove chose to visit with Gisela and Ealhswith at Uhtred’s house for the chief purpose of avoiding any of the pre-battle enthusiasm that surely accompanied the news they would be riding out on the morrow. Blessedly the women avoided talking about it in her presence, which told her they already knew she’d be staying behind. It didn’t surprise her, considering Uhtred was likely to have informed Gisela who would be staying to guard the family, and Ealhswith could have learned from either her or Sihtric. Regardless of how they knew, Tove was thankful not to be surrounded by the whooping and shouting that was likely happening at the tavern.

They chatted idly about various mindless topics for several hours before Ealhswith decided it was time to get her children to bed. After bidding them goodnight, she gave Gisela and Tove both a quick hug and hurried off. Tove was then left alone by Gisela for a brief time as she put her own children to bed. When she returned, Gisela looked somewhat drained.

“I can leave if you’re tired.” Tove offered.

Gisela gave a short laugh as she took the seat beside Tove. “You’re fine; this one is determined to keep me up awhile longer anyhow.”

Tove’s grey eyes followed Gisela’s hand to her heavily pregnant belly.

“Do you think it will be a girl?” she asked.

“Definitely not. He kicks just as young Uhtred and Osbert did. It will be a boy.”

“When we were children, Kåre, always complained of our mother disliking him because she would not give him a brother.” Tove chuckled, but her face held a sadness.

Gisela put a reassuring hand on Tove’s arm. “I am sure he misses you too.”

“He thinks I am dead,” she said dryly. “At Scaepege...His best friend, Halvar, he was there. I spoke to him, and Halvar told me they all thought I was dead when they heard of the Thurgilson’s defeat.”

The dark-haired Dane frowned. “Was Kåre with him?”

Shaking her head, Tove took a sharp breath. “I was too thoughtless to ask.”

They were silent as Gisela rubbed Tove’s arm comfortingly.

“He tried to convince me not to come here -to stay for his child’s birth. Kåre has never had an interest in Wessex. He does his raiding in Frisia or Ireland.” Tove paused. “Perhaps so long as he thinks I am dead, he will stay away.”

Gisela looked deep in thought when Tove finished speaking, and they were both silent for what felt like quite a while but was, in reality, only a few minutes.

“Uhtred.” Gisela began carefully. “He would release you from your oath -if you asked it of him.”

Tove looked at the older woman in evident shock.

“My husband is not unkind. He knows what it is to be parted from home and loved ones,” she added.

To ask such a thing had never crossed Tove’s mind. If it had been posed to her months ago, she might have considered it, but now she found she could not. Not when just the thought of her friends going to battle without her caused her such great distress, and to think of never seeing them again felt impossible.

“I have never thought Uhtred unkind. He spared my life when many would not have,” Tove said firmly. “But I would not ask for that.”

“Not even to see Kåre or your sisters?” Gisela asked.

“Perhaps one day, when we have gone north, retaken Bebbanburg, it will be possible to see them, but I cannot part from him now.”

The knowing smile on Gisela’s face was odd to Tove, but she felt glad that the Lady seemed to understand. Not much later, Uhtred returned from the tavern, and Tove returned home.

Instead of being at all restful, her sleep that night was filled with fragmented dreams of battle. Some of them were of Beamfleot. In the first of those, she reached Njal in time to save him from Finan’s blade, only for her former Lord to turn on Finan and disembowel the Irishman before her eyes. Another version featured her brother in Njal’s place. There was also her dodging Finan’s shield and killing him upon realizing he had slain her Lord.  Then came the skirmish in Frisia, where she first killed a man, except it was not a random soldier; it was Osferth or Sihtric, or Uhtred, or perhaps all of them at once. The face of the dying man had seemed to change before her very eyes as she stared down at him past her bloodstained hands.

By far, the worst of them was of a battle that was entirely unfamiliar to her. She was engaging a huge man who wielded a vicious war axe when she heard her name being called from across the field. Desperately Tove yelled back, telling the caller to hold fast. For a time, she struggled against the giant, who was determined to split her head open. Every time Tove thought she had him or that she might simply escape, he was there again. The calls were growing more urgent, but she couldn’t get away. Her shield was lost. All she had was Mercy, her short sword, and Fate, her long blade. He just kept coming and she was starting to tire from dodging. 

Finally, an opening appeared as the behemoth swung his axe sloppily, missing her entirely; Tove was swift enough to take advantage of his mistake. Quick as she could, Tove thrust Mercy into the man’s belly, causing him to drop the axe as she twisted her blade on its way out. Not thinking twice about the dying man, Tove shoved pasted him and sprinted through the throng of battle towards the voice. Upon catching sight of the body lying prone on their back, her heart felt like it had stopped, and she sat up in bed, the sun shining through her window.

Despite knowing the dream for what it was, Tove was disturbed by it. Feeling an intense desire to assure herself of her friends’ safety before their imminent departure, she washed her face and dressed with haste. On her way to the stables, Tove made a point to try not to think of it though she could not help wondering whose cold dead eyes would have been staring up at her had she not woken.

Osferth was there already, loitering outside when she arrived. Having seen her approach from a distance, he called out a greeting when Tove was near enough to hear. She responded in kind, intentionally slowing her step to calm herself some before she reached him. The young former monk was whole and unharmed; it had been foolish to fear otherwise.

“I did not think to see you here,” Osferth said.

Tove arched a single brow at him. “Did you not expect me to see you off?”

He flushed, though whether at the mild joking implication in her tone or for feeling somewhat chastised by her words; it was unclear.

“Where are the others?” she asked, to deflect from her friend’s moment of embarrassment.

“Lord Uhtred is awake. He sent me to make sure the stable hands had the horses ready by the time he arrived.”

“Sihtric and Finan?” Tove asked.

“Likely still in their beds,” Osferth replied. “Both consumed a horrifying amount of ale last night.”

Tove nodded absently. “When are you to leave?”

“Before the mid-day meal or once everyone has arrived, whichever is sooner.”

The sight of Osferth had calmed Tove’s nerves considerably, but she felt the uncharacteristic anxiety would not be wholly banished until she had set eyes on all her friends.

“I could fetch them?” she offered.

“If you like.” Osferth chuckled. “I doubt they’ll be very agreeable.”

“Then I shall be doing you a favor,” Tove said.

Osferth nodded. “I will let Uhtred know when he gets here.”

She thanked him and set off towards Sihtric and Ealhswith’s home. It took Tove only fifteen minutes to reach the house walking at a leisurely pace. Sihtric’s daughter Elflæd was sitting outside playing with a home-made straw doll when she arrived. The dark-haired girl who looked so like her father smiled at Tove when she saw her.

“You’re here to see my daddy.” The girl observed astutely.

“Is he awake?” Tove asked lightly.

A sly grin spread across Elflæd’s face, which only served to make her look more like a miniature female version of Sihtric, and she whispered. “Mommy threw water on him.”

Tove chuckled. “Did she?”

Elflæd nodded excitedly. “Dolly and I laughed for a long time, but daddy didn’t think it was funny.”

“I’m sure he didn’t,” Tove said. “Is your mother inside?”

“She’s feeding Tellan!”

“I’ll go see them then,” she said and ruffled Elflæd’s hair before entering the home.

Ealhswith was at the kitchen table attempting to spoon porridge into her defiant son’s mouth with a look of utter defeat. Tove paused in the threshold to watch as the fussy Tellan smacked the spoon from his mother’s hand. She had to stifle a laugh when Ealhswith just stared at the offending piece of cutlery.

“I would say good morning, but I see that it is not,” Tove said once she had control of herself.

The Saxon lady looked up at her in slight astonishment. “I didn’t even hear you come in.”

“I should have announced myself.”

“No, no! It’s alright -you are always welcome. Are you looking for Sihtric?” Ealhswith asked, bending to retrieve the spoon.

“Yes.”

“Just a moment.” She stood and went to the stairs to call for him. “Sihtric!”

There was some shuffling above them and a muffled groan. Ealhswith looked at Tove and rolled her eyes for dramatic effect, but she was smiling.

“Here come and sit. Have you eaten?” Ealhswith asked, pausing on her way back to her seat. “I can get you some. I made plenty -though it seems half of it will end up on the floor.”

“Uh no, but you don’t need to trouble yourself,” Tove said, nodding her head towards Tellan as she took up a seat across from Ealhswith. “I see you’ve got your hands full.”

Before Ealhswith could answer, heavy footfalls came thumping down the stairs and a bedraggled Sihtric appeared -his hair and tunic were both damp. Tove covered her mouth to stop herself from laughing audibly at the sight of him. He stopped at the foot of the stair, throwing her an irritable look, then continued to the table where he plopped down into the seat next to his wife.

“You’ve no one to blame but yourself,” Ealhswith said to her husband.

Sihtric just groaned, dropping his head into his waiting hands. Ealhswith gave a long-suffering sigh before turning her attention back to their son.

“Are you sure you won’t eat?” The question was directed at Tove.

“No, I just came to check Sihtric was awake. I still have to go by Finan’s,” Tove replied. “Perhaps I’ll ask Gisela if she’d like to come for the evening meal, though?”

“Yes, that would be-” But Ealhswith was unable to finish her sentence due to Sihtric’s abrupt interruption.

“You’re going to Finan’s?” he asked.

Confused, Tove replied affirmatively.

Sihtric’s face paled, but he did his best to play it off. “I can get him. I’m sure you have...guard duties to get to.”

“I have no duties until everyone departs.” Tove eyed Sihtric suspiciously.

“Then I’ll come with you. Who knows what state Finan’s in,” he said.

And before she could reject the offer, Sihtric was on his feet heading for the door to pull on his boots. Tove glanced at Ealhswith, who only shrugged at the half-Dane’s strange behavior. By the time the women had exchanged their goodbyes and made their tentative plans to meet for dinner, Sihtric was standing outside waiting. There was tension between them as they made their way through the street, but Tove didn’t know what could be causing it.

It was no strange thing for her to go by the Irishman’s home after a night of drinking, so for Sihtric to insist on joining her was odd. Tove sent a few scrutinizing looks his way, but Sihtric made no comment. So, she walked alongside him in silence until they reached Finan’s house when he turned to her.

“I’ll go in first,” he said with no room for argument.

Tove frowned in response. Sihtric hovered next to her for a moment and she looked at him expectantly. Vainly perhaps, Tove hoped he was about to explain what the problem was but instead, Sihtric just looked at her carefully. She was about to demand some answers for his peculiar attitude when a crash sounded inside the house.

There was no time for Sihtric to stop her as Tove swiftly sidestepped him to push the door open. The curtains were drawn, so the small home’s interior was dim when she entered the main living area accompanied by Sihtric. Their eyes adjusted and the two looked around for anything that could have been the source of the sound. There was nothing; cups and platters were set in their place, chairs were pushed in, and Finan was nowhere to be seen. Though, they did spy that the door to the bedroom was slightly ajar.

Without thinking, Tove headed for the door. This time Sihtric was prepared to stop her, though, and he put a hand on her arm to halt her progress. She shot him a dirty look.

“What?” she snapped, rather fed up with his behavior.

“I don’t think he is alone.”

The suggestion gave Tove a pause, for she felt utterly obtuse not to have considered it as a possibility before surging into the house. Her only thought after the dreams she’d had was to ensure her friend was alright. Flushing a deep scarlet, Tove shrugged Sihtric’s arm off and stepped back from the door. Sihtric went inside, leaving the door open behind him; Tove did not peer in. She could hear Sihtric inside the room, attempting the rouse Finan. Then came a female voice, and for a reason she couldn’t explain, Tove instantly felt compelled to leave.

Outside, Tove stood with her back to the house, staring into the street. The concern that had briefly filled her drained away only to be replaced by something she couldn’t quite place. Whatever it was, Tove pushed it down. It wasn’t the first time in her life she’d found a friend in bed with someone. There was no reason to be bothered, Tove told herself. It was just Finan. Yet somehow, she had never thought of him being with someone nor had she seen him with anyone either, and she had been part of Uhtred’s household warriors for almost a year. Or perhaps, she’d just never noticed it? Tove frowned at that. It was unlikely; Finan had become her best friend and they spent quite a bit of time together.

Voices could be heard coming from inside the house. One of them Finan’s distinctive Irish lilt, then Sihtric and a female. Tove involuntarily stiffened when footsteps came up behind her shortly after the talking stopped, but it was only Sihtric. His expression was searching when he first met her eyes.

“He’ll meet us at the stables in a while,” Sihtric said.

Tove nodded.

“In the meantime, I’m starving. Come on.”

And Tove allowed herself to be led back to his and Ealhswith’s home -the dream and her worry forgotten.

The previous night’s events were cloudy in Finan’s mind, but he did recall the woman serving him and the others ale most of the evening. She was reasonably pretty with her ashy blonde hair, dark eyes, and an ample figure. Throughout the night, she had smiled at him and perhaps they spoke a few words in passing, though that conversation was lost to the fog of ale. What he could remember more clearly was bidding Sihtric goodnight when he returned from taking a piss and leaving with the barmaid. How that had come about, he wasn’t wholly sure. In his next full memory, they were at his house; she walked ahead of him towards the bedroom, leading him along with a mischievous glint in her eye.

The next thing he knew, she was lying naked beneath him moaning too loudly, clutching his shoulders, but it wasn’t her -at least not in his mind. His inebriated brain hadn’t seen the tavern wench. Instead, he had been gazing down at Tove writhing beneath him with her near-white blonde hair haloed around her head, moaning with pleasure as he made love to her, and staring intently into his eyes. He leaned down to brush a tender kiss to her lips, but when he pulled away it was the barmaid again. Any further details of the night beyond that had slipped through his fingers. Finan grumbled to himself, imagining the whole encounter must not have been that outstanding if it did not cut through the haze.

Having finished dressing, the barmaid emerged from Finan’s room. She still looked somewhat disheveled, but at least she was adequately dressed, though there was no reason to worry over it as Sihtric and Tove had already gone. Her smile faltered at the sight of Finan splashing water from a bowl onto his face. He didn’t acknowledge her at first as he stared blankly at the still water.

“Are you alright?” she asked tentatively.

Finan started not having realized her presence. “I’m fine…”

She went to place a hand on his shoulder, but Finan’s voice halted her.

“Look, we had fun an all, but ye do not need to make it what it is not,” he murmured.

Her breath stuck in her throat. She stepped back, squared her shoulders, and smoothed her expression. That was not the morning greeting she had expected to hear after how tender and passionate Finan had been with her, but whatever his reasons were, she supposed she’d just have to accept them.

 “I’ll just be going then.”

“That, is probably best,” Finan replied, still not looking away from the bowl.

He was alone then staring into nothingness and pondering. The vision of Tove was seared into his mind. Every time he closed his eyes, it was there. Of course, Finan had always recognized she was beautiful, not to would have been to lie, but as their friendship grew, he tried not to think about her beauty. It was more difficult though, after the woods when in the glow cast by the fire, he could have sworn for a moment he had in fact come upon one of the fair folk. And the heat he had felt emanating from her when he had rested his hand on her knee had stayed with him long after the contact was over.

In a sudden burst of frustration, Finan smacked the bowl away only vaguely hearing it smash against the far wall. He couldn’t do this. Feeling this way was wrong, but it was only becoming more difficult to ignore. Perhaps that was what had spurred his drunken self to seek out a distraction? Well, he thought wryly, it clearly had not worked. Finan cursed under his breath in his native tongue. He needed to pull himself together. They were riding out in mere hours and he could not afford to go to battle in an unfocused state of mind. 

Mentally, Finan shook himself before setting about packing the few things he’d need in a sack and heading for the stables. When he reached his destination, there were already some people congregated around outside. Among them, he spotted Tove with Osferth, Lord Uhtred and Gisela. She leaned effortlessly against the plank wall of the stable, engaged in a seemingly serious conversation with Uhtred and the others. Averting his gaze, Finan searched for Sihtric, but before he could locate the dark-haired Dane, his name was called. He looked to see Uhtred waving him over.

Unable to ignore his Lord, Finan walked over. Gisela was appealing to her husband regarding the extent of her guard when as he strode up. It seemed she felt Uhtred was being a tad excessive. Tove wore a look of amusement, whereas Osferth appeared to be considering the Lady’s point.

“Tell these three that ten men are a perfectly reasonable guard,” Uhtred said.

Finan arched a brow, exchanging looks with Osferth who shrugged, and Tove who in turn offered a placating glance to Uhtred.

“And what is the alternative?” he asked.

“Six is enough,” said Gisela.

“With three on and three off at any one time.” Added Tove.

“Seems fair to me,” said Finan.

Uhtred sighed. Seeing that he was outnumbered, he relented. “Alright, but Tove will stay at the house.”

Gisela smiled, and Finan had a suspicion the Lady had intended her to do just any way. The decision made Uhtred excused himself, with a swift kiss on his wife’s cheek, likely to check on some other business. Leaving Finan with the remaining three.

“I’ll meet you at the gate when they are ready to leave,” Gisela said to Tove.

The shieldmaiden indicated her agreement with a nod. Gisela threw a look at Osferth before she departed.

“I’ve got some things to check on,” Osferth added before heading off as well.

Tove watched Osferth hurry off with a curious look. She was sure she’d seen him complete his preparations earlier. Shrugging it off as the monk just being odd, she turned to scrutinize the Irishman’s appearance.

“I see you are well,” Tove said.

“Aye.”

“That is good.”

Finan felt an uncomfortable tension between them, but he was unsure of how to break it. Though Finan hadn’t seen her, he knew she was there with Sihtric at his house and didn’t know what she had seen.

“Did you know?” Tove asked, seeking his gaze.

“Know wha’?” he responded in mild surprise.

“Yesterday Uhtred told me I was to stay behind as part of Gisela’s guard. Did you know?”

Finan avoided her eyes when he answered. “Aye. He did tell me tha’.”

He could see her nod out of his periphery, but she made no verbal response.

“I warned him ya’ wouldn’ be happy.”

Tove hummed. “I am only unhappy to see my friend -friends- go to battle without me.”

Finan looked at her earnest grey eyes and wondered how he could dare hope for more from her. The many practical reasons she could not possibly want him aside; how he could even let himself be with her after Laoise. The grief of that ill-fated infatuation no longer stung, but its shadow was long and full of warning. Finan had not allowed himself anything more than a passing fancy for a woman since his exile from Ireland.

“You will look after yourself?” Her expression was pained.

“Of course.” Finan smiled, trying to lighten her mood. “I’ve made it this long, haven’t I.”

Rolling her eyes, Tove punched the Irishman lightly in the shoulder. Even though Finan hadn’t checked Gúthwine, he elected to stay and chat with her a while longer. Both were apparently reticent to part now the tension was dispelled, but when Uhtred called out for the departing warriors to saddle up, Finan was shocked how much time had passed. Tove appeared just as surprised.

“You had better get on then,” she said, pushing off the wall.

Without thinking, Finan stepped forward to embrace her and Tove returned it warmly, resting her forehead against his shoulder. He held her to him even as he felt the same rush of heat as when he’d touched her knee. When Finan finally thought he should let go, Tove held on; her fingers clutching him felt like an echo of the vision from the previous night, causing him to still.  She turned her head slightly to whisper in his ear.

“Come back.” Tove released him and the heat was gone.

Finan stared at her and thought to crack a joke, but none came. In the end, he could only nod.

Tove stood with Gisela and the children at the gate to watch them go. Uhtred led the precession flanked by Sihtric, Finan and Osferth -behind them rode three hundred of Lunden’s warriors. They all looked quite well in their battle finery and Tove committed their faces to memory. It was the first time she would be parted from them since coming to Lunden, a lingering feeling of doubt twisted in her gut telling her not all would go as planned. As they approached the gate, Tove caught Finan’s eye and smiled reassuringly. He returned the gesture and waved to her, but then Sihtric pulled his attention away.

endnote; I hope it was clear from Tove’s internal dialogue that she doesn’t think Finan is with someone now. And we finally got why Finan is holding himself back with her. But I mean come on man, it couldn’t possibly work out worse than him ending up on a slave ship -could it? Laoise is pronounced (Lee-sha)

taglist: @obipoelover​, @iwillboilyourteeth​, @lauwrite1225​, @queen-manning​, @for-bebbanburg​, @bells3333​, @othermoony​, @emily456​,

[catsafarithewriter]

"I want to say it was worth it. For a while, it was" Haru/Baron please?

A/N: Oooh, I loved using this prompt! This is a fairytale AU based on Rumpelstiltskin with some… unexpected character casting. The writing style is gently fairytale-esque, and I enjoyed this so much I finished this in a day! Enjoy!

x

Spinning straw into gold was impossible; everyone knew that.

Everyone, it seemed, but her father and the King. But that was enough.

Haru Yoshioka had never been one for tears, but she decided the universe wouldn’t judge her too harshly for shedding a few in the face of her impending death. After all, who was there to see? If a poor peasant woman cried in a locked tower and no one was around to hear her, did her sobs make a sound?

“Fair maiden, fair maiden,” called a voice from the rafters. “Why do you weep so?”

Haru’s tears came to an abrupt halt. The voice was well-spoken, like that of an old-fashioned noble or royalty; definitely not one of the guards. Also, guards didn’t tend to linger in the rafters. Neither did nobility or royalty, but she could only worry about one thing at a time. She gave one last snivel for good measure and glared up at the ceiling. “I’ll have you know that it’s ill-mannered to listen in on a lady’s distress.” She dabbed at the corner of her eyes with her sleeve. “Let a lady die in peace.”

“Die?” A shadow leapt down from above, and Haru was greeted with the form of a small ginger cat. “I have heard of many ways to die, but over-exposure to hay is a new one to me.”

Haru chuckled, and a little of her usual good temper returned. “You have a sense of humour, cat. I would appreciate it if it could keep me company until the sun rises.”

“And after the dawn?”

“After the dawn you will need to find a new friend, for this one shall be gone.”

The cat placed both paws onto her knees, and emerald-green eyes stared into hers. “Oh now, fair maiden, that shall not be.”

“You have little choice.” Haru waved a hand across the crowded room. “I am but a miller’s daughter, but my father laid claim that I could spin straw into gold, and when the King heard he locked me up in here and told me I must turn all this to gold by sunrise or be put to death.”

“Your king would kill you for that?”

“Apparently. So you see, cat, I have not long for this world unless you can spin straw into gold.”

“But of course. Did I not make that clear? I am a magic cat.” He rose onto his back paws and stood in a manner most human. “And, as a magic cat, I cannot leave such a fetching young lady to such a dire fate.”

Haru’s heart leapt. A fae cat! But then she remembered the tales of being indebted to the fair folk, and quickly removed the ring from her hand. “Please, take this as payment for your help.”

“I take no payment.”

“Please. It isn’t much, but it was my mother’s wedding ring. Is it enough for your kindness?”

The cat took the ring, and in return Haru was rewarded with a strange look. “It is enough for my kindness,” he said, and moved to the spinning wheel, whereupon it whirred into life. The straw spun through the wheel, round and round, until the bobbin was full of gold and he had to replace with another, and another, and on it went till morning and all the straw was gone. And all the while, he kept her company.

When all was done, the cat bowed and vanished.

With the rising sun, the King arrived, and he was both delighted and amazed by the room of gold he now possessed.

His advisors were… less so. Haru saw the stilted looks they exchanged with one another, all too aware – even if their monarch was not – that such feats were beyond the scope of mortal folk.

Still, the King wanted more, and so the following night he locked the miller’s daughter in a second room filled with straw, larger than the first, and uttered the same ultimatum.

This time she didn’t weep, but called out for her previous companion.

“Fair maiden, fair maiden,” the cat greeted, bowing. “Why do you call me so?”

“The King has once again demanded that I spin gold for him and has threatened to kill me if I fail,” she said. She loosened the ribbon in her hair, the ribbon she had specifically brought tonight. “All I have is this ribbon. It isn’t much, but it is the last gift my mother gave me before she passed. Is it enough for your kindness?”

Again, that strange look.

“It is enough for my kindness,” he answered, and began to spin.

Again, the straw was gold by dawn, and again Haru swapped companions from cat to King with the rising sun. She didn’t miss the way his eyes lit up at the shimmering room, nor did she miss the whispered rumours from the advisors. Once, the transformation may have been a trick; twice, and it became witchcraft.

“Three times, and you shall prove your worth,” the King told her. “Why, with a wife such as you, our kingdom would be rich.”

“Wife?” echoed Haru.

“Wife?” echoed the advisors.

“Naturally,” the King said, and led her to a yet larger room filled with straw. “If you spin all this gold by the next sunrise, I shall make you my queen. But if you fail, you shall die.”

And thus, when the cat came that evening, he found the miller’s daughter in tears once more.

“Fair maiden, fair maiden,” he said. “Why do you weep so?”

“I weep because the King desires to make me his wife if I succeed tonight.”

“Why so sad? Surely it is the wish of anyone to rise to such rank.”

“Oh, cat, you do not know me at all if you think that,” Haru wept. “If he marries me, he shall expect this every night, and I shall spend the rest of my life under threat of death. He does not love me; he only loves the gold which you spin.”

Her face buried in her hands, she could not see but she was sure she felt gloved fingers gently brush the hair from her face. “Oh, fair maiden,” the cat’s voice murmured, “I know you too well to let you suffer such a fate. Just trust me a moment longer, and all shall be well.”

She raised her head, but the cat was definitely still just a cat. Even so, the phantom touch of tender fingers lingered on her skin. “Cat, you have been such a good friend to me these last two nights; I want to say it was worth it. For a while, it was. But do not spin the straw this final night. In all the chaos, I have forgotten to bring anything to thank you for your kindness.”

“I need not take anything now,” he said. “You may owe me, if it is enough for my kindness.”

Haru faltered. To be indebted to the fae folk… perhaps would be no worse than being married off to a gold-hungry king. Perhaps she could pay him back in precious gems or trinkets from the royal treasury, if he would accept such baubles when he could create gold at a touch.

“It is enough,” she whispered.

“Then the deal is made,” he said, and he set to spinning.

True to his word, the room was filled with gold by daybreak and, true to his word, the King made immediate preparations for the upcoming wedding upon seeing her success.

“Wife,” the King called her.

“Queen,” the peasants said.

“Witch,” the advisors muttered. “Alchemist. Fae.” She heard their murmured accusations, however quietly they said them, and knew the words would spread. A queen who makes deals with the devil, they asked, what kind of queen is that? And she couldn’t help but agree, although she could not have said which was the devil in her dealing.

Still, she found herself suitably adorned and embellished; a bride fit for a king. The gold the cat had spun was woven into her dress, and the ensuing result left her more gold than girl by the time the tailors were finished. The ladies-in-waiting perfected her face with powder and if they had to add a little more than usual to hide the red-rimmed tearful eyes, then no one commented.

Still, everyone could be heard to agree as she stood alongside the King, she was a suitable bride. Everyone agreed.

Almost.

“Fair maiden, fair maiden,” called a familiar voice. “Why do you marry so?”

And where the priest should have been stood the cat. But not the cat Haru recalled. This one was taller, human in height and dressed in a suit, fitted with a top hat and cane. But still. Haru recognised him, however altered he was, as the same cat who had helped her three times prior.

“A demon!” snarled the King, and stepped back.

“Yes,” the cat said, before Haru could correct him, “A demon.” He approached them, and swept his hat off in a low bow. “I would love to give my congratulations to the happy couple, but I’m afraid there’s been some confusion. You see, the miller’s daughter still owes me a debt, and I wish to collect.”

“Collect?” Haru echoed. “Collect what?”

The cat rose from his bow, and his smile was wane. “You, Miss Miller-maid. Three nights’ worth of gold is a fine price for a bride, I’d say.”

The King bustled, but did not step between Haru and the cat. “You cannot buy her,” he snapped.

“Why not?” the cat asked. “You did.” He returned his gaze to Haru and held out a hand. “Miss Miller-maid, I’m waiting.”

She felt herself shivering, and belatedly recognised it as rage. “Not like this,” she whispered. “I will not trade one cage for another. Cat, if you ever held any affection for me in your heart, do not do this.”

His eyes sparkled, and Haru had the strangest sensation she had given the correct answer. “Very well; we shall turn this into a game, then. I will give you three days with three guesses each, one for each night’s service rendered, for you to win back your debt. All you have to do is call me by my name.” He smiled. “Do that, and you will be forever free of me.”

x

The first day dawned with the release of messengers, sent across the land by the King. Their task was simple, but perhaps impossible: find the name of the cat demon.

Haru, the prize, was left guarded in her new room – “In case that demon comes to collect early,” the King had said, although she doubted a few soldiers would stop a fairy. She would be given the array of hopeful names, and select the three to offer that day.

“Fair maiden, fair maiden, how grand your cage is now. Why, ‘tis fit for a queen.”

Haru didn’t turn to the voice. “I ought to throw you out of this window for that foul trickery you did me, cat.”

“I did nothing you did not agree to.”

“You could have asked for anything,” she retorted. “So why choose that?” She felt her eyes water with angry tears, and she turned and slammed both fists into his chest. “How dare you ask that of me! I thought you were my friend!”

“And I am. I always will be.” He gently pried her hands off him. “Fair maiden, look at me.”

“I’d rather not,” she muttered into his waistcoat.

“As you wish. But whatever form I take, whether talking cat or demonic beast, I am clearly not of this world, and there are certain ways things must be done for my magic to help anyone. It must be balanced. Equal. If I spirit you away from this unwanted marriage, it will only place you further in debt. And you are running out of precious things worth a fairy’s debt.”

“There are jewels in the treasury–”

The cat laughed. “Jewels? Do you think you can pay off a fairy debt with shiny rocks? No. I accepted your offers because they were important to you – your mother’s ring, her final gift to you – not because they carried any monetary value.” He tentatively brushed her hair from her tear-stained eyes. “Eventually, the debt finds its own payment and I fear the price, if left unchecked, will be too rich for you.” His touch was gentle. “It may be the colour of your hair, or the sight from your left eye, all or all your memories from before you turned five.”

“But you think my freedom isn’t too rich?” she muttered.

“Who said anything about freedom?”

“But you said–”

“That I came to collect you, Miss Miller-maid, but the debt cares little for what I do after it is paid. If I decide to buy a caged bird only to set it free, that is none of the concern of the seller.”

“You’re… you’re telling the truth?”

“I cannot lie,” he said, and slipped a familiar ring onto her right hand. “However, if you choose to stay, then you will need this. This ring is now enchanted. Wear it, and you will be able to spin straw into gold as well as I can. Consider it part of the debt I’m collecting.”

Haru’s fingers flew to her mother’s wedding ring. “Why do this? Why help me?”

“That’s simple. It’s because you are my friend, fair maiden.”

“Haru,” she said, and abruptly felt foolish. Giving her name away to a fae? The only thing more foolish would be to put oneself into unspecified debt to a fae… oh, wait.

But the smile he gave was only kind, not conniving. “Then you may call me Baron. It is as much of a name as any.”

“Is it–”

“No, it is not my true name, although I did go by that title once.” He grinned. “Do you think I’d make it that easy?”

x

“Is your name Pendragon?”

“No.”

“Fujimoto?”

“No.”

“Suliman?”

“No.”

x

The second day came, and Haru found the cat – Baron – once again at her door.

“Fair maiden, fair maiden, how grand your cage is now. Why, ‘tis fit for a queen.”

She smiled, despite herself. “Then it is too grand for me.”

“We shall have to remedy that then,” he replied, and he swung the door open behind him to reveal an empty corridor.

“Baron, I can’t leave here – everyone will recognise me, and I can’t just run–”

“We’re not running. We’re going for a walk,” he said, and drew close. His gloved hands worked through her hair and tied a familiar-looking ribbon into her locks. “This ribbon is now enchanted. Wear it, and no one but you do not want to will recognise you. Consider it part of the debt I’m collecting.”

She tenderly touched the favoured ribbon. “What do you mean they won’t recognise me? Do I look different? Is it a disguise?”

“It’s only a disguise as far as their minds go,” he answered. “People will see you, but they will not realise they see their future-queen.” He smiled. “If you decide to leave the King, it will enable you to live an unencumbered life, free from the risk of royal recognition.”

She wished to thank him, but knew that thanking for fairy gifts was unwise. At the very least, the gift might lose its power; at worst, it might retaliate back at her. So she could only smile, but she felt Baron see the gratitude. Then she hesitated. “Baron, the… guards. You didn’t–”

“Fear not, there are no unfortunate soldiers masquerading as mice. I simply took good note of their shifts and schedule and planned accordingly. As long as we are out of this door in the next five minutes, no one will be any the wiser.” He winked. “Let’s stretch those wings, fair maiden.”

And so she let him lead her through the maze of palace corridors and stairways, and she found that neither of them warned more than a passing glance. She fiddled with her ribbon, awed by its newfound properties. “Tell me, Baron,” she said as they stepped out into the royal gardens, “so you have a similar spell affecting you? For no one seems to mark you.”

He tapped the polka-dotted tie around his neck. “Indeed. With this, everyone merely thinks how strange it is to see a cat demon, and moves on. It has become a valid tool in many a situation. But now it is my turn to inquire. Before all this started, you were a miller’s daughter. If you do leave, what would you wish to do with your life?”

Haru faltered. No one had ever asked her that before – not in any meaningful way, anyway. “I suppose,” she said, “if I could choose, I would wish to travel. Travel, and then settle down as a seamstress, like my mother.”  

“Just that?” Baron asked, although he sounded… pleased, if anything. “No riches or power?”

“I’ve seen how people live with excess riches and power,” she answered. “I only want enough riches that I can eat and live, and enough power than I can be free. I have no need for anything more.” She looked to him. “And what of you?”

“What of me?”

“Did you always wish to be… this?”

He looked at her then, and she wondered if, similarly, no one had ever seen fit to ask him either. “I suppose,” he echoed, “if I could choose, I would wish to run a teashop.”

Haru had to resist a laugh. She did smile. “Just that?”

“Just that. I used to make tea for my sister, Louise, and she loved all the blends I would create.” He smiled at the fond memory. “If I were to run a teashop, it would be a local affair, located in a quiet little village with a quiet little village green and rolling hills over the horizon, and annual fairs. People would come from the neighbouring villages to meet up and talk, and when they wonder where they should sup, they would go, ‘but of course, to Baron’s teashop.’”

Haru leant over to him. “So why don’t you?”

He only smiled. “Such a simple life is unsuited to one of my kind.”

x

“Is your name Toto?”

“No.”

“Teto?”

“No.”

“Yakul?”

No.”

x

“Why create the game?” Haru asked on the morn of the final day. “Why ask me to guess your name and drag this three days longer if you could have just spirited me away now?”

“That’s simple,” Baron replied. “You deserved to have the right to choose.”

“It is barely a choice. That would imply that the decision is difficult in the making. Anyway,” she added, a smidgen indignant, “how is it a choice when we both know I don’t have a chance of guessing your name?”

“You have the ring and the ribbon,” he said. “Between them, they give you the ability to either live safely in the palace, weaving away, or escape to a quiet, modest life; neither require me anymore. As for the matter of my name,” he said, and gently placed a handkerchief in her hands, “you already have all you need to know that.”

She glanced to the silken material. “Is this another of those ‘consider this part of the debt I’m collecting’ things?” she asked.

“Something like that.”

“What does it do?”

He chuckled and tucked a stray hair back from her face. “It dries eyes, no more, no less. Consider it my promise to you to never make you cry again.”

Immediately, her eyes began to water. She hid them behind the handkerchief, laughing and crying simultaneously and failing to successfully conceal either.

“Haru, I just said–” Baron started, alarmed.

“No crying, I know,” she laughed. “Relax, these are happy tears. Still…” she said, “Why me? Why go to all this trouble for me?”

Baron softly drew her hands away from her face. “Do you think it was pure coincidence I met you that first night? I heard tales of a miller’s daughter whose father’s outrageous claims had lined her up for death. And so I came to help.” He smiled. “I had planned to move on after I had secured your freedom, but the thought of being without you leaves me quite lonely. It has occurred to me that I may be in want of a companion.” He drew away. “But, it’s your choice. It must always be your choice.”

x

It was a strange item, really, to receive.

Haru turned the handkerchief over in her hands and pondered. Baron had said it retained no power, no unseen enchantment nor spell, and yet it seemed at odds with the other gifts he had bestowed. It didn’t carry the same emotional weight that her ribbon or ring had borne, and yet he had chosen to bequeath such a thing on the day of her final guesses.

She would have been content to leave it at that, until it caught the light and through the silk she saw the remnants of a faded pattern.

A coat of arms.

And after that, it all slotted into place.

His title of baron narrowed it to the lower rankings of nobility.

The coat of arms to a single family.

The sister Louise to a handful of individuals.

And there was only one name that had vanished under mysterious circumstances.

x

Haru sat beside the King, the parchment of chosen names spread out before her, but none of the offerings matched the name she knew to be true. She chose one at random.

“Is your name Totoro?”

He smiled, and she wondered if he knew of her newfound knowledge.

“No.”

It was ridiculous. Crazy. Irrational. To trust someone steeped so deep in fairy magic was to be a fool, and a short-lived one at that.

Or so the stories went.

“Is your name Moro?”

“No.”

Ridiculous. Crazy. Irrational.

She tried to remind herself of that.

And yet, he had been her one friend through all this.

“Is your name…”

Humbert von Gikkingen?

She hesitated. She thought of rooms filled with spun gold, and reckless boasts, and greedy kings, and ribbons and rings and handkerchiefs with family coat of arms and it’s because you are my friend–

“Nago?” she finished. “Is your name Nago?”

The smile he gave was not triumphant.

But it was happy.

Baron stepped up to the dais and held out a hand to her. “No, fair maiden. It is not.”

She took it.

x

There were a great deal of things to learn while travelling with someone like Baron, but she had both time and a good friend on her side. Eventually though, when the steepest of the learning curve had been breached and their current adventure had drawn to a close, she asked the one thing that had stayed with her since that fateful day.

“What would have happened if I had said your name?”

“I imagine you would have found some way to escape to a better life,” he replied. “No matter which way you chose, you would have been happy, Haru. I made sure of that.”

“No, I mean… what would have happened to you?” she asked.

“Oh. I would have returned to my human shape.”

“Returned?”

“Indeed. I was once human, but a bad encounter with a fairy left me in the form you see today. While useful in its capacity for magic and immortal lifespan, it has stolen the human life I had desired from me. The fairy that cursed me stole my name, and said that only when I hear it spoken once more will it be broken.”

Haru considered this. “I know your name,” she said.

“Then the day you tire of travelling and magic, speak it,” he said, “and our human lives will begin.”

x

Years passed.

Years passed, and the King passed away, and in his stead a sensible young monarch rose up. The fairy gold tarnished and rusted long before its due, all except for a golden-laden wedding dress that had once been fitted for a future queen. It stayed, and the whispered witch tales transformed to fairy as memories faded and people fell in love with the story of a gold-weaving miller’s daughter who bewitched a king and spirited away before they could wed.

And, in a quiet little village, with a quiet little village green and set between rolling hills, a teashop owner and a seamstress lived happily ever after.