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rosileeduckie · 2 years ago

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Tickled to Death

Pact of punishment level: maxed. Time face the scariest enemy you didn’t know lived in hell: your own boyfriend.

Zagreus “helps” Thanatos get out from between a rock and a hard place. For @vqler, who GOD I’m so sorry I’m late but I hope you like me petrifying and obliterating Thanatos for you in the name of Christmas ❤ Much love to you, much love and thanks to @hypahticklish for hosting this year’s @squealing-santa. Kudos and love to everyone who posted for the event this year, happy holidays, and happy new year!

SFW. Potential warnings: just “returning to writing” writing lol. Hades: Zagreus/Thanatos tickle fic.

Word count: 3,075

~*~

Zagreus had attempted enough escapes from the underworld to know, upon even entering a chamber, when something was immediately off. He daresay he was experienced by this point; there were things he’d come to expect. Hordes of enemies, unleashed with love from his father? Certainly. The unavoidable spiting of and smiting from god-cousins for the favor of other ones? Often. Blood, death, and darkness? Absolutely. What he found waiting for him upon crossing from his most recent ferry to the nearest Asphodelian dock was, in a total understatement, wildly unexpected.

Save for the familiar sound of bubbling, hissing lava and distant magma falls, the chamber was quiet. Zagreus entered as he always did, light on his burning feet and weapon unsheathed, ready to dodge or strike at a moment’s notice. He needn’t have, though, as he soon realized the chamber was befuddlingly empty. Sure, he’d encountered chambers with no enemies in them, either at first glance because they had just yet to spawn or at all because their presence was dissuaded by some form of boon or blessing. But the chamber he currently found himself in had no healing pool, no shop, and no allies, let alone enemies. It was just plain empty.

So busy with examining the room for some sort of clever trap, Zagreus didn’t even notice the obvious obstacle until he fully tripped over it, sprawling onto the rock with his weapon—Stygius, this time—clattering a couple of feet away. Zagreus looked back to see what had caused him to stumble, and his brow furrowed deeper in confusion. A scythe, large and dramatic and adorned with gold and a piercing purple eye lay abandoned on the rock, its usual wielder, the physically and emotively grey demigod that Zagreus had the biggest soft spot for, was nowhere to be seen. Or was he?

Zagreus turned his head, looking from Thanatos’ weapon to his own. A couple of feet away. His gaze lifted slowly upward. The grey and currently half-rocky skin had blended quite well into the environment like a natural stalagmite, and it wasn’t until he was actually looking for it that Zagreus could see that Thanatos was there, and likely not going anywhere any time soon.

The prince rose, grabbed and sheathed his sword as he rounded the Thanatos-shaped pillar until he faced the front. Zagreus had been grinning already upon realizing what he’d stumbled upon, but that grin grew all the bigger and brighter when he saw the normally brooding Thanatos looking flustered and positively grumpy.

“Don’t—” Thanatos said, sighing in defeat when Zagreus snorted and burst into bright laughter that he tried and failed to hide behind his hand. “Don’t laugh.”

"I'm sorry, but can you blame me?" Zagreus said, nearly falling into another fit of giggling when he rapped a knuckle lightly against Thanatos' chest and the action produced a satisfying thunk. "What happened?" He asked, but it was fairly obvious: petrification. Gorgons were aplenty in Asphodel, and none of them so friendly as Dusa. Most of Thanatos' body was still affected by the curse, frozen in place and turned a stony stormy grey. By the looks of it and the fact that he could talk, the petrification was naturally draining from Thanatos' form from the top first, leaving the rest of him to wait out the "thawing" process in the stiff and stiffness-inducing position of both arms partially raised as those blocking with his scythe, and both feet floating their usual few inches from the ground.

"I was waiting for your slow ass," Thanatos grumbled, drawing the prince to close his cursory examination with a snort. "Expected for us to have one of our contests, but a gorgon caught me from behind. You'd be standing in her remains, if I hadn't vaporized her."

"Remind me to stay off your bad side."

"“Stay off.”"

“Shut up.” Zagreus walked a slow circle around Thanatos. He cast his gaze outward, studying the chamber without the blinders of adrenaline and stress that tended to make things look fuzzy. He knew Thanatos was powerful, but—blood and darkness—he’d probably obliterated every shade within the next three chambers, let alone their current one. It was just a guess, but, with how thoroughly every trap had been tripped and every structural fault had been compromised simultaneously, as though from a massive blast, Zagreus was fairly certain that A. he and Thanatos were better than safe from shades for the time being, and B. even caught off guard, Thanatos did nothing at half-intensity. Drama queen. “So how long have you been like this?”

Thanatos grunted, straining to look over his shoulder at Zagreus when the prince moved fully behind him. “I don’t know. I didn’t count, as I was counting on you to be quick. Thanks for picking this one time to be the one where you drag your feet.”

Zagreus didn’t respond to the jab with more than a thoughtful hum. He was too busy watching the petrification dissipate, the cold stone color receding like a lava wave at low tide at a slavug’s pace. Ugh.

“I don’t know how long I’ve been like this, and I have no idea how long I’ll be like this, since I usually have you to cover me.”

“It’s pretty quick, from the hits I’ve taken.” Of course, Zagreus realized upon thinking it over, he was often petrified while surrounded by enemies, and the threat of being sent back down the Styx made him struggle against the enchantment with all his might. Maybe it was supposed to last a long time; he’d just be thin on patience and break himself out. “Helps if you wiggle.”

Thanatos scoffed, tipping his head back and closing his eyes. “You are an amazing help.”

“Well, what do you suggest I—?”

“Just—” Thanatos huffed, neck and shoulders visibly straining where he tried to move them, move anything, “just keep watch to make sure nothing respawns. I didn’t even want you seeing me like this, let alone your father’s subjects.”

“Any shade would think they’ve gone mad with the heat before they accepted seeing you like this as real. Or they’d be laughed out of the House for such a ridiculous and unbelievable tale, you know that. But fine,” Zagreus replied with a yawn and set himself on a little guarding route around Thanatos, keeping an eye trained outward for ominous growling, keeping an ear pointed toward Thanatos to listen to his comical grunts and breathy swears of efforts, and letting his mind drift elsewhere.

When Zagreus found himself petrified on his escape attempts, a quick shake and healthy dose of stubbornness was all it took for him to bash his way to freedom and back to slashing shades to dust. There had been one time, though, when he’d found himself without monsters to slay beside the shade who’d landed a hit and then lazily floated away and straight into a fountain of lava. (Zagreus could understand enjoying a hot bath, but yikes…) With no adversaries, Zagreus had lacked his usual incentive to escape as quickly as possible. It was odd, to stop moving so thoroughly, without being able to so much as jiggle his leg or tap his fingers or click his tongue. His companion on-call at that time had been Dusa, and he couldn't think of anyone better to offer advice as to getting un-petrified than her. Luckily, the little gifted doll he kept like a keychain on his weapon didn't need to be physically or verbally invoked—that would make summoning under the onslaught of a dozen rakers or one very maltempered ROUS even more difficult—so he pictured the soft snakey toy, reached out with his mind, and called for his companion. In a flash, Dusa appeared, all smiles and polite shyness and readiness to stone and slaughter any foe that challenged the prince. Of course, there were none, but Zagreus' head had gotten enough feeling back to explain the situation to Dusa. Her advice was the same Zagreus had given to Thanatos in the present: wiggle around a bit. And she had, so helpfully, provided a new incentive via her trusty feather duster.

Recalling the event made Zagreus—well, first he flushed to the roots of his charcoal hair, and he was glad he'd come to stand behind Thanatos at that moment, and then—grin, delighted and devilish. "Actually…"

"What?" Thanatos tried to look over his shoulder at Zagreus once more, and found only the slightest more yield in his stone-struck muscles. He could almost touch his chin to his shoulder.

Zagreus side-stepped accommodatingly to face his captive companion. "Funny thing is, Than, you're not rock. You can feel just fine." He gave another demonstrative flick to Thanatos' shoulder. "It's a bitch when you're being bombarded with enemy attacks. But it might help you break free. If I just—"

It had been a tactical move for Zagreus to move around to Thanatos’ front. For one, it allowed him easy access to scribble his fingers under death incarnate’s arms unimpeded. For another, it meant he got to see Thanatos’ face morph from dismay to betrayal to amusement (however helped along and hysteric).

“Zagreus!” cried Thanatos, the sound colored with a splash of helpless laughter. Truly, it was funny how his technically perfect defensive position, when without his intimidating weapon, left him totally vulnerable to a little tickling. (Well. A lot of tickling. Zagreus was usually on the other end of these fights, and he had already decided he was not letting such a golden fleece of opportunity go by.)

"Yes, Than dear?" Zagreus teased, smile growing wide enough as his victim's when he saw the way Thanatos' cheeks began to burn violet. It took the strength of Sisyphus, but Zagreus looked away from Thanatos’ face, looking instead at his chest and trailing the progress of the curse. Still slow, but with a bit more stuttering speed. The stony color had dissipated all the way down to about his collarbone, leaving the topmost part of his collar golden and shining once more. “No need to thank me. I can already see the curse is lifting faster. You keep wriggling, I’ll keep helping, and you’ll be out in no time!”

A whine that slipped seamlessly into a squeal punctuated Thanatos’ chortling. “But—!”

The dual-eyed demigod slowed his attack, keeping his fingers and just a featherlight flutter in Thanatos’ armpits. It was far from rare for the pair to engage in all-out tickle wars that could border on brutal, but this may have been a bit much. Zagreus didn’t want to overwhelm Thanatos. He waited for even the slightest inkling of dissent.

Thanatos ducked his head, panting and giggling and bumping his forehead gently against Zagreus’. “If someone sees…” It was a thin excuse, between euphoric lips and yellow eyes burning with excitement, and Thanatos knew it.

Zagreus definitely knew it, holding Thanatos’ jaw in his hands to pull him in for a kiss that ended when the prince chuckled, low and wicked and delighted. “Darling, with how you smote those shades, we won’t be interrupted for awhile, I’m sure.” Thanatos’ eyes scrunched shut, and he bit his lip valiantly against a renewed fit of giggling when Zagreus’ hands migrated gently down his neck and back to his underarms. “No one but me to relish your screams.”

“Remind me never to get on your bad side,” Thanatos teased, teeth gritted in a grin.

Able to bear stillness not a second longer, Zagreus set his fingers dancing once again, spidering viciously beneath Thanatos’ arms. Poor death threw his head back as the villainous onslaught sent laughter bursting from his lungs to echo through the lava chamber. His shoulder muscles strained against stone, but, try as he might, he couldn’t lower his arms at all. Not the tiniest inch, not the slightest bit of reprieve. Zagreus grinned. It was spectacular.

In self-preservation, Zagreus had tipped his head back from his and Than’s intimate moment seconds before going back to full tickle monster mode, which had been smart with how determined Thanatos was to thrash even with just his head. A minute or two of torture later, Zagreus saw another inevitable point of danger. The curse was ebbing; soon Thanatos was free to his shoulders, and that gave him only the ability to laugh enough for them to shake. As soon as his pectorals were free, Thanatos was going to have means, however clumsy, to fight back. With a sigh lamenting the end of a helpless Thanatos, Zagreus took one last adoring gaze at that tickled-mad, wide-grinning, ecstasy-dizzy face, and he ducked.

A deadweight hand swung over his head, and Zagreus sent one of few thanks to his father for increased difficulty in his pact of punishment. It might have been small, but his instincts were good enough now to avoid what would have been an impressive black eye. Blacker eye. Still, stone-from-the-chest-down was not the way Zagreus preferred his partners, so he couldn’t rest yet. Thanatos was flailing his arms with all his might, but he still couldn’t bend over, so Zagreus was relatively safe lounging against Thanatos’ knee. Reaching as high as he dared, Zagreus gave a few quick and indiscriminate tickles—resulting in beautiful answering shrieks—and latched onto Thanatos’ hips. Instead of pinching, Zagreus held on for dear life and dug into the fabric beneath Thanatos’ belt, burrowing into and scratching the soft sensitive spots that had the potential to make Thanatos purr but were currently making him wail like the damned.

The longer Thanatos suffered under Zagreus’ malicious mischief, the quicker the curse faded. Zagreus’ wiggling fingers seemed to be fleeing from it as they squeezed down Thanatos’ thighs, skittered behind his knees, and eventually dashed to his soles. Thanatos was fully able to buck now, body all but back to his control. Had Zagreus not laid down on the rocky ground, he likely would have been throttled. As it was, he was still out of reach, grinning up at Thanatos and receiving an exhausted but elated smile in return. There was even almost a flash of fear in death’s eyes when Thanatos realized what Zagreus had planned for the finale of their first—and hopefully not last—curse-breaking session.

“Don’t worry, Than. This spot ALWAYS makes you dance. If it doesn’t free you, nothing will.” Zagreus was positively beaming up at Thanatos, facing no defense in the form of scrunching toes or kicking feet his usually did even threatening to tickle this spot, and certainly not deterred by the pitiful attempt at a glare the smiley and slumped over Thanatos shot at him.

Any shade that had even thought about reforming within a mile of them had probably changed their mind and stayed dead a few more minutes upon hearing the howl death let out when two fingers were traced delicately under his toes. Never mind the subsequent guffawing screams he uttered when Zagreus raked five fingers back and forth beneath them while his other hand devastated Thanatos’ soles with some evil scribbling that he could only imagine tickled like hell. Those sounds, even if it did make Zagreus wince and almost want to cover his ears, and the blazing, amazing, unabashed smile that accompanied it was better than any boon the gods could give him. Maybe it was a little devil in him talking, but it was simply divine to see his lover so undone and hysterical, so free even when immobilized, so happy and for only Zagreus to see. He wouldn’t mind staying there, basking in Thanatos’ warm and hysterical glow, for a few dozen winters.

His wish was not granted. He barely got a dozen seconds before Thanatos finally shook free from the petrification, yanking his feet away from Zagreus’ hands and subsequently upending himself, laughter having sapped his strength to the point where he couldn’t even float, collapsing on top of Zagreus’ chest and leaving them both wheezing.

Once he’d gotten back the wind that had been knocked out of him, Zagreus chuckled, wrapping his arms around Thanatos and holding him close, rubbing smooth and soothing circles into the soft warm skin of his shoulder. So gentle and loving was the attention and little kisses he showered Thanatos with that his next words were a jarring dissonance.

“You know, it usually only takes me a few seconds to break free from a gorgon hit when I really want to,” said Zagreus, and he hummed smugly when he felt Thanatos’ face grow warm where it was suddenly buried in the prince’s neck. “Can’t help but wonder if, maybe, you just didn’t want to escape that badly.” He pressed a grinning kiss to Thanatos’ burning forehead. “Eh, Thana-toes?”

Just as suddenly as he’d been pinned to the floor under Thanatos, Zagreus found himself pinned to the floor, arms raised and locked in the grip of a vengeful death, whose amber eyes were absolutely alight with promise and payback, and smoldering more softly with fondness that could not be more obvious when he rolled them. “I will give you three conditions to escape a slow and very merciless end, after which I will personally drag you back down the Styx and deliver just as merciless a wake-up call.”

Zagreus gulped, his grin growing wobbly and his stomach already tickled by a swarm of prickling nerves and butterflies. “And those would be?”

“One,” said Thanatos, summoning a ghostly indigo shackle to bind Zagreus’ left wrist. “Please don’t tell anyone about this that I work with. I’d like to keep some professional dignity. Two.” Another shackled encircled Zagreus’ right wrist. “Don’t you dare call me that ever again.”

Zagreus couldn’t help but smile proudly at the purple flush that touched Thanatos’ cheeks at that, albeit his smile swiftly turned giggly and giddy as those two shackles pulled his arms taut.

“Three.” Thanatos leaned in just to nuzzle Zagreus’ ear and scoff lowly when he tried to scrunch up his shoulders. The wickedly sharp tips of Thanatos’ iron gauntlets grazed gently along Zagreus’ highest ribs, making him jolt and bite down on a yelp, grin already hopelessly wide and nerves tingling in anticipation. Zagreus was sure he lost what color he had, most of it roaring to flush and flicker in his hair and ears, and surer that he’d be cursing Thanatos next time, when the latter bowed close to whisper the final condition.

“Don’t laugh.”

#ro writes #squealing santa #squealing santa 2k22 #ss2k22 #hades tickling #ticklish!thanatos #zagreus x thanatos #lee!thanatos #ler!zagreus #switch!thanatos #switch!zagreus

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harwinsgirl · 2 years ago

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The White Sheep - Harwin Strong X Reader, Part Two

Part Two of The White Sheep!

I wanted to say right off the bat that I hope it’s okay that this chapter sets up some backstory. I wanted to establish a relationship between the reader and Viserys. I’ll get started on part three soon, which will focus on the wedding! Lots of Harwin fluff there, for now we have more angst.

(Big fan of our boy Vizzy T, I promise he’ll get better, he’s just in his feelings a bit. Also still on mobile so apologies if the formatting gets wonky)

When you were a young girl, not much older than eight years old, you stumbled past the dining hall and heard the unmistakable laughter of your father. Pressing your small frame against the wall, you were able to hear his conversation through the wooden door, which had been partially left open by one of the attending servants. You took great care in remaining out of sight as you peered into the room. Your father was talking to a man you scarcely recognized along with two young boys that were most likely his sons. You had internally chided yourself for not paying more attention when the palace had received its most recent guests, for you could not recall their names or even their house. But you were a child, your mind preoccupied with the newly expanded library and the wildflowers blooming outside your window and your sister’s brand new gown that had golden stitching along the wrists. What were boys to you?

“So I might marry Rhaenyra?” The youngest boy asked through a forkful of lamb.

That earned a round of chuckles from everyone else at the table. Presumably his father, the man shook his head and clapped the boy on the shoulder. “Aye, not you lad. The honor would go to your brother. You would take the other princess, the quiet one.”

The boy let out a whine and tossed his fork down, the clatter sending bits of meat across the table. “But she’s boring!”

There was no laughter this time. “Watch yourself boy,” his father hissed. “That’s the king’s daughter you’re insulting!”

“He’s right though father,” the elder boy replied, “She’s had her nose in a book the entire time. I don’t think I’ve heard her speak to any of us since we arrived. It’s no wonder he has no interest.”

Viserys had been eyeing the boys carefully since the first comment had been made, chewing slowly. He proceeded to unsheathe his dagger and feign interest in it, pretending to inspect the blade. “Do you know what this is made of, boys?”

“Valyrian steel.” The older boy responded, as if reciting an answer for an exam. The younger one mumbled in agreement.

“Right you are, Valyrian steel. Everyone knows of its strength. But sometimes you need to see up close,” Viserys paused and grabbed an apple from the table, slicing a piece of skin off so precisely and quickly that it landed on the young boy’s cheek, “just how deadly and unforgiving it could be.”

“It’s not the only thing in the Red Keep that possesses those qualities either.” With a terrifying grin, Viserys chuckled and bit into the apple. You noted how the children’s faces had paled, the youngest one not daring to move a muscle, even though the fruit was still sticking to his skin. “A word of advice to you lads. Never insult a daughter in front of her father. You’ll find that there are things more unforgiving than a blade.”

As you turned on your heel to leave, you could hear the old lord laugh uncomfortably and utter apologies and the sound of chairs sliding against the cold floor, signaling that the meal was being hastily adjourned. You couldn’t help but walk away with a small smile on your lips. Your father proved right then and there that you were enough for him. That you were loved and cherished as his daughter. It’s a memory that has kept you warm these many years, bringing you comfort during council meetings, feasts, tourneys, and other events where you had been pigeonholed as the second daughter, the quiet one, the white sheep.

Viserys was a very busy man, often leaving you wondering how he truly felt about you. The king was not known for his outward expressions of love but it was easy for anyone to see how proud he was of your sister Rhaenyra. At a young age she was already equipped with fiery personality that captured the hearts of many people across the realm. But you were just a child who happened to be born into a dynasty. At the end of the day you were grateful to have a sister and father that you loved very much. All you wanted was for them to be happy, especially after your mother and brother had passed. Everyone in your family felt those losses strongly but you had internalized your pain, resulting in a sense of personal responsibility for your family’s happiness. It’s why you felt most comfortable saying nothing at all and choosing hobbies that caused little strife. It’s why you always said yes to your father’s requests and why your refusal to marry as of late seemed to agitate him more than Rhaenyra’s outbursts. You were the good child as your sister would say, which was intended as either a compliment or a demeaning remark depending on her mood. “I may very well put father in the grave with my antics,” she mused to you one time, “but if anything I know is true, it’s that father will always love you.”

You were hoping that love would be enough to temper the storm that had been brewing ever since you accepted Harwin’s proposal. He had escorted you back to your chambers and bid you goodnight with a tender kiss and a promise to return for you the following morning. The fire in your belly from the night’s events allowed sleep to elude you, your eyes fixated on the silver ring that adorned your finger. Excitement eventually dwindled as fear of your father’s reaction began to take root in your mind. On the one hand, he could’ve been overjoyed that you actually showed interest in marriage and that you had chosen a respectable husband, one who had proven himself as dutiful and loyal. But more than likely he was going to be displeased due to not being offered a say in the matter, as removing you from the marriage market meant that certain advantageous matches could no longer be considered. You were, after all, a Princess of Dragonstone, which still held a significant amount of value. It hadn’t bothered you much as a child, the feeling of being a pawn, a bargaining chip to be offered to a man of a great house. For a time, it actually made you feel important. Now you realized you only felt that way because you had nothing to lose.

The ring on your finger reminded you that was no longer the case.

Harwin kept his promise and arrived at your door after you had been served breakfast. You didn’t even register the quip he made about your full plate; the fact that you were too nervous to eat was not lost on him. You suddenly felt yourself being held against his chest as he embraced you in a tight hug, his head dipping down to your neck as he whispered gentle, sweet words into your ear. He hummed softly as he started to spin you around, his hand trailing down to your waist as he kept you close. Tears sprang to your eyes when you realized the song he had begun to sing was a song you had not heard since your mother had passed. A gentle lullaby about a bird in summertime returning for his love;

“Darling, know my love for thee

Two sweetlings in a maple tree

Though I leave on a summer’s eve

I ask my love to wait for me

Darling, know my love for thee

And when the leaves begin to fall

I will fly across the sea

When I hear my lover’s call”

He had begun to let go but you clung to him tighter, pressing your face against the cold breastplate of his armor. Harwin planted a kiss on your forehead and rested his head against yours.

“As much as I feel as though I could live in this moment forever, we should meet your father before he begins to worry.” He murmured softly.

“I don’t think I can do this, I don’t think I can face him,” you whispered. “I’m not strong enough.”

“My beloved,” Harwin said, his hand raising your chin up towards him, his eyes searching yours, “You are strong, and our love is a cause worth fighting for. You know this to be true.” More genuine, heartfelt words were spoken but you could no longer hear them, the feeling of terrible weightlessness overwhelming you. Misery had taken hold of you and would not let go.

You appreciated Harwin’s efforts to calm you but you were still wary, and rightfully so. Dread coursed throughout your entire body as the two of you began to walk down the corridor. Every step that led towards the throne room felt torturous, the sound of your feet upon the cobblestone floor reminding you of the dull thump of a nail into a coffin. Harwin squeezed your arm reassuringly and you paused briefly to glance up at him. The words he spoke to you moments before in the privacy of your room echoed in your ears again, although it felt like the first time.

“No matter what, I will fight for us. For you.”

“Say the word and we leave now. Together.”

“If this is my end, I will find a way back to you. Your love has saved my life and I believe in its power to do it again.”

He smiled at you and gestured forward, snapping you out of your thoughts.

“Come, my lady. It’s time.”

The heavy doors creaked open and revealed your father’s silhouette on the throne, his form being partially shrouded by the sunlight. Lyonel Strong was positioned at the base of the steps, his arms clasped together. He acknowledged the two of you with a brief nod. You returned the gesture in kind, although guilt started to flood your thoughts soon after. He was likely not to approve of the marriage either. You had hoped that the honorable hand of the king would be spared, free from any repercussions caused by your actions. It hadn’t quite occurred to you just how many people could be affected by this decision.

Your heart sank further into your stomach.

“To what do I owe the pleasure, my youngest?” Viserys said in greeting. “And as always, it is good to see you Ser Harwin. You look to be in good health.”

“Father, Ser Harwin wishes to ask you something.” You announced, swallowing thickly. Harwin stepped forward and kneeled down before his father and his king, bowing respectfully before raising his head and stating his request.

“Your Grace, I humbly ask to resign from your kingsguard, effectively removing myself from the position of the princess’s guardian.”

Harwin’s plea was met with silence. Viserys was still for a moment before a hint of a smile formed on his lips. He turned to Lyonel and quipped, “My apologies to you old friend, for whatever my daughter has done to frighten your behemoth of a son.” All credit was due to Lord Strong, whose casual laughter at the remark disguised the fear in eyes all too well. A thousand questions lingered between father and son, the air growing thick with tension.

“There is only one reason why I would choose to walk away from this role, Your Grace,” Harwin continued, his voice steady and firm. “I have fallen in love, and I intend to marry.”

In a swift response, your father began clapping, quirking an eyebrow at Lyonel when he did not follow suit. “Well now son, don’t keep us in suspense!” Viserys laughed, his hand moving to rest under his chin. “Tell us the name of the lass.”

“It’s me.” You said gently.

The world went silent for a moment.

If birds were singing, notes were lost in their throats. Waves ceased crashing. Even the flames in the torches flicked upwards in a soundless dance.

“Say that again child.” Viserys demanded.

“I am his intended. We would like to be married.” You stated, your voice unwavering. “I have never loved a man so deeply-“

“Do not speak of love!” Viserys thundered. “Not to me, not in this room, not ever!” Your father stood up, his mouth growing taut and rigid with anger. “I cannot believe what I am hearing!”

“Why is that father?” You challenged, walking towards the steps of the throne. You had hoped, prayed that he would understand. Now you were seeing that this conversation would be no easy feat. But it was your life, and your love, and you would die at his feet defending it if you had to, if it truly came down to it. “Why is it that only you get to experience true love? Do you think mother would be pleased to know that you are treating her daughters like cattle to be sold off to the highest bidder?”

“Your mother was dutiful!” Viserys snapped back, pointing his finger at you. “She knew of responsibility! She would not approve of you making such a decision behind your father’s back! A decision that is not yours to make!”

“I should have a say!” You cried out, waving your arms in exasperation. “You afforded Rhaenyra such rights!”

“Rights that she will surely lose after this incident,” Viserys said icily. “I may be your father, but I am also your lord and king. Your future lies within my hands girl, not yours. What if I had betrothed you to another already? What would you have me do then? Do you expect me to start a war over this union? All for you to marry a man that can only offer you a blackened estate?”

“It’s either Harwin Strong or no man at all,” you said defiantly, “Too long have I spent in the shadow of my sister, only to be feasted on by aging lords or young sons who only seek the power of our name. Too long have I spent biting my tongue, agreeing to whims of your council simply because it made me appear more sensible and obedient. I am a Targaryen and I promise you if I am not allowed this wish, the only wish I have ever asked for you to grant, I swear that you will bear witness to my fury.”

There was no council to offer. Lyonel Strong remained stoic, his eyes trained on his eldest son. All he could do was wait to see if his child would be cut down in front of him or dragged away to be hung for treason. How he managed to raise a son who was completely ruled by his heart was unfathomable. There should’ve been some logic that screamed at Harwin to not do this, to understand that not every love can be fully realized, that duty and honor comes above all else. But Lyonel’s son continued to bend the knee, his blue eyes unblinking as he stared at the furious king, ready to accept any consequence from his actions.

Viserys had gone still, his body no longer shaking with rage. All the more terrifying, in your opinion. He studied you both for moments that felt like eternity. Your mind should have been preoccupied with your fate, which seemed to be undecided at the moment, but all you could think about was the memory of the dining hall. Faceless boys who witnessed the quiet wrath of your father, all because they dared to speak ill of you. Where was that love? Why was he filled with so much rage? Why couldn’t he see that Harwin would give you the love that he had once told you that you were worthy of? Your heart leapt at the thought of telling him how Harwin defended you in the city, but the words died in your throat when Viserys addressed the two of you with the most callous and cold words he could manage.

“You may marry. Marry the Strong boy, marry your handmaiden, marry a rat for all I care. I will not witness the ceremony. Perform this atrocity outside of the Keep, and commit these halls to your memory child, for it may be the last time you see them.”

“Father!” You cried out, your arms outstretched in a desperate attempt to reach him. But drawn swords from his guards formed a cross, preventing you from moving closer. He descended the steps quickly and brushed past you, not even chancing a look at you as he left the room, the doors closing shut with a deafening finality.

Harwin immediately took you into his arms, shushing you as you began to weep. Kissing your hair, flooding you with words of encouragement, holding you upright in his arms when your knees buckled. Moments later, a voice could be heard over your wracked sobs. “Pity I did not get to witness you defend your betrothed in front of her father,” Lyonel said with mock thoughtfulness. “it felt as if you left her to the wolves.”

You wiped at your eyes and took a deep breath. Harwin took a brief moment to study your eyes, only turning to face his father after you mouthed that you would be okay. “My lady spoke for herself and I am proud of her.” Harwin finally replied, shooting daggers at his father. “I would gladly give my life for her if it were asked of me.”

“It very well could have been asked of you, you fool!” Lyonel snapped. “You ruined this poor girl’s life and there is no going back on this, boy. Nothing I can say will bring you back into the king’s good graces. I may not even be able to escape his wrath. Did you stop to think about that before you asked for her hand? How many lives are you willing to risk for this?”

“I swore my duty and I did it well,” Harwin bit back, “You know I have done well. I have been the perfect son for god knows how long. I left Harrenhal and began training at your request. I accepted a life that would not allow me to start a family at your insistence. I would’ve continued to serve the king for all of my days, and in the end it would’ve been all for you. My whole life reduced to the boundaries set forth by you until I’m left to rot in the earth. No longer. I will not apologize for seeking happiness. And I will not turn my back on my beloved. Not for you, not for the king, not for anyone.”

Harwin stood tall, his chin raised, silently challenging Lyonel to continue the argument. To his surprise, he was met with a tight embrace instead, his father squeezing him like it might be the last time they would ever touch. “I believe the king’s advice goes for the both of you,” Lyonel said, breaking apart from his son as he shared a concerned look with the two of you. He sighed heavily and shook his head. “God knows if we will ever see your faces within these walls again.”

Lyonel departed along with the last of your father’s kingsguard, leaving you alone with your betrothed. You staggered toward to steps before collapsing onto them, your hands raking through your hair as you began to process what had happened. Harwin stood before you, looking contemplative.

“Do you regret this?” He asked suddenly.

“What? Telling my father?” You answered, slightly perplexed. While it had not gone as you had hoped, it had to happen. Marrying in secret would’ve had far worse consequences and you both knew that.

“No. I meant me. Choosing me.” Harwin said quietly.

You couldn’t help but smile a little at that. Many would look at Harwin and would assume him to be full of confidence. He was rugged, strong, attractive. Until a moment ago, the strongest knight in the kingsguard. A flash of his smile could capture your heart if you left it unattended. But there was more to him than that, layers and nuances that only you were allowed to see. He trusted you with these parts of him and all of his insecurities too. His doubts manifested in questions like this, although this query had been the most serious so far. If only he knew how much you adored him, and for just how long. If only he knew how he set your whole body ablaze the day you two met in the very same room you found yourselves in. How afternoons in the garden together had been blissful in such an excruciating way. Your time was spent falling in love with a man you believed to be out of reach. A languid breeze, the sounds of the wind passing through the trees, and a sleepy knight propped up beside you against the godswood. You had chosen him right then and there, all those years ago, loving him with your whole heart ever since.

You took your hand and placed it against his cheek. Harwin closed his eyes and leaned into your palm, nuzzling it gently as you began to speak.

“I only existed before you. And now, its as if I get to live. You are my reason for being, Harwin. I would do this all over again if I had to. My heart is yours. I think it always has been.”

Harwin breathed heavily before leaning down and pressing a searing kiss to your lips, taking the opportunity to slip his tongue in your mouth when you gasped. Holding you by your hip, Harwin kissed you again and again, his tongue rolling over yours and teasing your lips whenever you began to pull away for air. Finally he broke the kiss, only to cause you to squeal when he bent down and scooped you into his arms, carrying you the way a man holds his bride. Blowing a piece of hair from his face, he gazed at you with a fiery intensity and a breathtaking smile to match.

“By the gods woman, I am marrying you tonight.”

#harwinsgirl #harwin #hotd fic #harwin strong x reader #ser harwin strong #harwin strong #harwin breakbones #harwin strong fic

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haileyywrites · 2 years ago

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-> As the only child of your parents - high expectations have been set out for you. Eventually this results in you running away from your home and coming across a samurai that saves your life. He helps you live out a memorable last day of freedom before you submit to your parents wishes...

-> Reader has no gender or pronouns! Reader is a noble! Reader x Kazuha! Star crossed lovers trope! Complicated family relationships! Reader gets slapped (not by Kazuha)!

Your clan was one of high status and a spotless image was important to your family. As the only child of your family expectations for you were high - meaning you were expected to be completely perfect. To marry into a good family and have many children to carry your family's legacy. These expectations strained your relationship with your parents greatly with fights becoming more common than civil conversations. It made you resent them enough to one day run away... In the middle of the night when your parents were surely deep asleep you sneaked out of your room.

You would run as fast and as far away as you possibly could before you fell onto your knees. Out of breath and exhausted you simply stared at the sky beginning to turn red as dark turned into dawn. Your attention was quickly brought to the sound of laughter. You darted your eyes around along with your head until you saw a group of ronin approaching you from the woods. Their smiles were wide and cruel along with their horrendous laughter that rang in your ears. Some of them began unsheathing their weapons as a chill ran down your spine with the seriousness of the situation beginning to settle in...

Was this the end? You ran away from your home only to be cut down by some roaming ronin in some woods where your body would never be recovered from? Tears gathered in your eyes and blurred your vision as you helplessy tried crawling away from the approaching men. Their laughter erupted into roaring by your pathetic attempts of getting away making you want to cry even harder.

A sudden yet comforting breeze blew past you making you look up to see the back of a young man with a flowy red kimono. His beautiful white and red hair and red moved along the wind as he stood before your trembling form to protect you with confidence and calmness. He was glad nature brought him to you before it was too late. He said something to the ronin that made them either amused or incredibly irritated. They began charging at him with their blades trained on him - ready to kill. He didn't waver or even flinch as he unsheathed his own blade.

“Fallen leaves... adorn my night.” He said as he used the power of anemo to wipe out the ronin with ease.

Those not caught within the range of his attack fled with no care for the others, leaving you with your savior and the unconscious ronin. He sheathed his sword and turned around to face you. He crouched to be on your level and inspect you for wounds - which you did not have. Oh Archon's, was he your guardian angel? He certainly looked like one with his silky white hair that you dreamed of running your fingers through and gentle ruby red eyes you could look into for forever...

“You don't appear to be wounded - good.” A soft smile formed on his lips and you could feel butterflies dance in your stomach.

You couldn't utter a single word as you stared at him with your mouth slightly agape. A stray tear finally fell down your heated cheek and it did not go unnoticed by your savior as he slowly reached out to wipe it away, but made sure to give you time to pull away or stop him if you wished to. You didn't. Your whole body felt feather light like a leaf in the wind when his hand made contact with your skin. Don't pull away, please...

“My name is Kazuha. May I know yours?” His voice was so soothing and made you feel at ease enough for you to tell him your name.

He recognized your last name immediately with your family being quite important status wise, everyone in Inazuma knew them. You were their only child and thus rather important as the next head of the clan and with your sparkling reputation you would surely be beloved and respected by all. So what on Teavat's name were you doing in the middle of the woods with no guards or personel in sight? You were clearly not prepared to defend yourself.

“You have no reason to answer me, but I cannot help wondering why you're out alone within these woods?” He helped you stand on your own two feet.

“I... I must admit I ran away from my family. It was foolish I know. But I needed to get away - even for just a moment.” From the look on your face he could tell your situation was complicated and thus did not pry further.

“I didn't expect to run into danger though, I cannot thank you enough for saving my life. Could I bother you with one more thing?” You bowed your head down in respect.

“Of course.” He simply replied with a smile.

“Would you take me to Inazuma city? I wish to spent the remaining of my freedom doing something memorable before I return home. My family will surely reward you for bringing me back and saving my life!” You looked at him with hopeful, yet pleading eyes.

“Of course, my Leige. This way.” He pickes up the bag you had dropped when you fell on your knees. He draped it's handle over his shoulder to carry it for you.

During your walk you became more comfortable and you were able to talk some more. You didn't go too much into detail about your family situation and he didn't ask you to, he was a great listener while only offering advice if you wished him to. What made you even more comfortable was his casual attitude and way of treating you, he was respectful but didn't treat you any different from a commoner. You loved that... Never before had anyone treated you like this, his whole aura and presence made you feel free to be your true self.

When you reached the city he took you to eat at Kiminami Restaurant and you were quite exited as you had never eaten at a place like this! Normally your food would be prepared at your home, it was quite extravagant and over the top. It was made with the look in mind rather than the taste, so it tended to be bland and tasteless... But here it was quite the opposite! It was like your sense of taste had only just now awakened with this colourful new experience.

After eating he asked if you wished to explore all that Inazuma City had to offer, you of course accepted his offer. You walked around the city with your arm looped around Kazuha's so you wouldn't get separated in the large crowds while looking at all the different shops around town. He was able to make you smile and laugh countless times with silly jokes or things he spotted in the shops you passed. He seemed like he knew you like the back of his hand - he could make you laugh and feel better with such ease... You tried so many foods from different stalls that you thought you would burst from eating another crumb of food! You promised to reimburst him for all the things he bought for you, of course. You loved every second you spent with him, you truly felt yourself connect with him in a way you had never experienced before...

You did your best to ignore all the people staring, gasping and pointing at you everywhere you went. You should have done something to even try to conseal your identity, but it was too late now. Your parents would likely have a stroke after hearing such "scandalous" acts being performed by their heir like eating food and enjoying all that Inazuma had to offer, oh and of course being seen holding hands with a young man. You were in for quite the scolding and punishment when you returned home, but right now your focus was on experiencing freedom before it would be taken from you forever. You regretted nothing, if you hadn't run away you would never have met Kazuha or gotten to experience this. Or maybe you would have - perhaps your future spouse was just like Kazuha. But you did not regret meeting him.

You only regretted having to eventually say goodbye, you had gotten to know him quite well during your time spent together and you did not want to separate fro him so soon. The sun began setting in the horizon turning the sky into a beautiful mix of colours, but you wanted to make this day as memorable as you could - with no regrets. You turned to face Kazuha as he did the same, his eyes shone with curiosity. With a sudden burst of boldness your hands cupped his soft pale cheeks as you pulled him closer until your lips connected with his. Your eyes closed as his hands carefully rested on your waist to bring your body flush against his, his thumbs ran circles against your clothing.

The moment felt frozen in time as if the rest of the world ceased to exist around you, if only it could last for an eternity. You eventually pulled away to catch your breaths, but continued to hold onto each other. Both of your faces had grown slightly red as you shyly smiled at each other. Neither of you said anything...

“That was my first...” You said quietly.

“Mine too.” He removed his hands from your waist to hold one of your hands. He brought it up to his lips before placing a sweet kiss upon your knuckles.

You both knew it was time for you to return home by the darkening sky. You remained quiet as you began walking towards your family estate. It was not far but you purposefully walked slowly to savior these last moments, by the time you made it home the moon was high up and the stars were out. The fences surrounding your home looked more like prison walls now... Your parents rushed out to pull you away from the stranger whose habd you were holding. They had heard of your shenanigans with him to blame him for everything.

“If I ever see you around my child again I'll have you executed!” He yelled before spitting next to Kazuha's feet.

“Father!” You shouted angrily.

“Quiet! Take them inside, dear. I will handle him.” Like he ordered your mother forcefully dragged you inside.

“Like I said - I can make you completely dissapear without anyone ever finding your body. Stay away from my child.” His words were filled with venom and pure hatred.

He left Kazuha at the gate of your family estate with the guards blocking his way as he watches your father get inside. He takes a deep breath before turning around to leave. He can understand both you and your father in this situation. He understands why you wanted to leave your family, but you still went back after your short period of freedom. He can also understand that your father cares about you and wishes for you to have a good life, but his methods of showing it are not good...

Suddenly he remembers your bag that he's still carrying, it held all your items... He couldn't keep holding onto it with all your items, but how would he return them to you? He could give the bag to the guards, but what if it was never given back to you? It would also give him a reason to see you one more time. Your father had likely put more guards and higher security after your run away attempt, but he had higher senses along with his vision to back him up. Hopefully it would be enough...

He waited some hours until nearly all the lights had turned off inside the estate, meaning most if not all inside were asleep. He had spent his time observing the guards routine routes and spotted some weak spots to exploit inorder to get inside the walls. Inside your home he would need to keenly listen to his senses as he would go in completely blind.

It was easier said then done, but he got inside. He thankfully was able to find your room rather quickly and without notice. It felt wrong to just barge in but he had no choice. You were surprised to say the least to see him in your home, in your room. But you could not have been happier! Tears welled in your eyes once again as you wrapped your arms around him tightly. He did the same, he looped one of his arms around your back and the other cradled the back of your head. When you pulled away to look at him he saw your cheek that was burning red, but not the same way he had seen before... It was clear you had been struck by a hand. He gently caressed the bruised skin with a frown on his face.

“Why are you here Kazuha?” You asked in a hushed tone.

“I... I came to give this back.” He took off the bag and handed it to you.

“Oh... Thank you.” For some reason you felt disappointed.

He couldn't look away from your sad eyes and your cheek. He couldn't leave you like this, he couldn't leave knowing you would be trapped within your own home with someone that would hurt you. He called out your name softly to make you look at him, look into his eyes. You could understand what he was saying and nodded.

“Please... Let me take you away.” He cupped your face and he ran circles on your cheeks with his rough thumbs.

“Take me away Kazuha...” You whispered.

He pulled you into a kiss that lasted much longer than the first. You didn't want to pull away, but you needed to leave now before someone realised he was here and before the sun was up. You only grabbed the essentials and wrote a short letter to your parents asking and pleading for them to not try to find you. This was not a final goodbye as perhaps one day you could reconcile with them...

You grasped Kazuha's hand tightly and gave it a squeeze to signal you were ready to leave. You sneaked your way out in the darkness of the night with only the moon shining as your guide. For now it was best for you to leave on the next ship to not be found by your parents. Today was the first day you had seen Inazuma City and now you were on your way to a whole nother land, but thankfully you were not on your own. Even if the kiss you shared did not lead you to love each other for the rest of your lives, you knew he would be there for you.

A/N: Long and cheesy but I love Kazuha (~￣³￣)~♡

Feel free to like or share♡ If you notice any spelling errors or mistakes feel free to point them out!

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burning-daylight · 2 years ago

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ENID, zooming in on WEDNESDAY’s face: aYO! SMOKING HOT GIRLFRIEND CHECK!

[thud, knives unsheathing, muffled screaming and laughter]

#enid sinclair #wednesday addams #wenclair #incorrect wednesday quotes #incorrect quotes

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carissimipaixao · 2 years ago

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For the Christmas prompts- could please I get protection with Shay Cormac? Happy holidays!! Thank youuu!!

─ PROTECTION

published on: january 25, 2023 requested by: @littlemisscare-all pairing: shay cormac & reader word count: 800+ note: submitted during the christmas inbox!

Since the very first moment that you met Shay Cormac, your life changed.

You often assisted the Finnegans’ — your neighbors — and it was during one of those days that their son’s boss and his men dragged a body inside, which you initially thought to be more dead than alive, upon spotting the blood and ugly bruise on the stranger’s head, along with a long cut from his forehead to below his right eye.

From then on, the list of tasks and chores that you did around the house grew ever so slightly to accommodate the stranger, to help him heal and get better as soon as possible — as it was requested by the Colonel. You did not know why he brought a wounded sailor or soldier to the house of two average citizens with little to no connection to the Royal Navy or His Majesty King George II, and you did find it confusing and odd.

When the house was attacked by a bunch of gang members, pushing Barry onto the floor, breaking the dishes and terrifying Cassidy. Even when they were chased away, after receiving a beating from your wounded patient, the threats that they left behind crawled inside your head and burned fear into your heart. Cassidy believed that it would be the safest if you were to remain with them, but you thought otherwise. You had never considered yourself to be the bravest soul, and thus, you ran from the danger.

But, you could never kill the paranoia and the dread. Everywhere you went, it seemed like the eyes of the gangs in New York followed your every move, watched you as you slept. Little by little, you thought yourself to be going insane.

Then, it happened — proving your suspicions.

On a nightly walk to your house, after handing Cassidy the groceries that the elderly couple needed inside their home for the following morning, you were stopped by a familiar face, whose nose had been crooked and broken since that fateful day. The man gave you a nasty grin, lips curled up like a wolf, and, pulled by your wrist by a strong grip, the man took you towards the docks. I hope you like swimming, miss, he had told you. Because that’s the last thing you’ll do.

A gag around your mouth and wrists bound together, you found yourself inside a ship — the name Serenity engraved on the back — and tossed inside a storage room. You heard the whispers and laughter as you walked on board, as those men cloaked in yellow and white spoke of your doom. She’s such a pretty thing. It’ll be a shame to toss her into the sea!

Hours have passed since the ship left the docks of New York. Since then, you have begun to pray to a higher being, someone who could save you from those monsters that had decided to kill you. For what purpose? You cannot help, however, but think that they are trying to get revenge through you, for their losses and the humiliation. When the ship shakes aggressively, the shouts begin and the bell rings, you close your eyes to stem the flow of tears.

You are certain that your death is coming. Then, when everything begins to die down, the clash of swords and the sound of gunshots decreasing, the door to the storage room rattles and you tremble.

After a few more attempts, the door is ultimately kicked open, thus breaking the lock. Amongst the smoke and death that lies on the other side, a tall silhouette stands in the doorway, sword and dagger unsheathed. Half a beat of silence, and the figure approaches you as it puts the sword away. Your name comes out of your savior in a breathless whisper, as if suddenly frightened.

Shay kneels down in front of you, eyes frantic as they look over your face and body — searching for any wound. His eyes darken at the sight of your damp skin and red eyes, and he swiftly cuts the rope around your wrists with his dagger, before putting it away. ‘You’re safe now,’ he tells you as he takes the gag from your mouth. ‘Let’s get you out of here, lass.’

‘Shay,’ you call for him. You find yourself incapable, however, of getting up, tucked as you were in the corner of the room, arms around your knees. You feel your eyes water once more. You feel guilty for his troubles, but, most importantly, you wonder how he found you. It feels as if your roles have been reversed; in the beginning, you took care of him and made sure he got to his feet. It was a rocky journey, but, inevitably, Shay was out of the Finnegans’ house. And, now, he has saved you, rescued you from a certain death by the hands of the same men that had endangered you months ago.

Something shifts in your chest—no, you conclude. It’s only growing. You have often shoved the attraction for the Irishman, thinking of it as improper while you were tending to his wounds. There isn’t anything wrong if you acknowledge those feelings now, is there? You don’t know where his heart lies, but you are certain of yours.

His stare softens. Gently, he speaks. ‘Nobody will hurt you now. I won’t let them.’

And, since that moment, everything changes.

#shay cormac x reader #shay x reader #shay cormac #shay patrick cormac x reader #shay patrick cormac #assassin's creed #assassin's creed: rogue #assassin's creed rogue #ac rogue #ac: rogue #fanfic #fanfiction #reader #reader-insert #x reader

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simplysable · 3 years ago

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I lost the post because I accidentally deleted the draft instead of posting it, but the request was asking how the Resident Evil lords would react if their S/O was screaming for their help, but instead of something deadly, it was a little bug. This one goes out to all my arachnophobes <3

How Resident Evil Lords Would React to Their S/O Screaming for Them… Because of a Spider 🕷

Alcina Dimitrescu

“Alcina! Alcina, please help! It’s gonna kill me!”

You just wanted to break open a nice vintage that was in the kitchen, but then you saw it

Oh Jesus Mary and Joseph you were gonna die

The spider was fucking HUGE

It had so many legs.. and too many fucking EYES-

You didn’t think a Romanian tarantula would manage to worm its way into the castle but it’s here and you’re petrified

“Alcina!”

Alcina bursts in, claws unsheathed and golden eyes murderous

She looks around the room, sees nothing except for you, white as a sheet, staring at something in the room

She bends down to you, claws still out, and tucks you into her side

“What’s wrong, dearest? Was it the man-thing Mother Miranda was talking about? A stray lycan? Heisenberg?”

She was ready to kill any of the three options in a heartbeat

You, the light of her light, pointed to the corner of the room and trembled in fear

…it was a spider

You screamed for her, terror in your voice, because of a spider

She pats you on the head and goes to the spider, scooping it in her hands and throwing it out the window

She just kinda looks at you

“Listen, Alcina, I’m sorry for overreacting, but spiders terrify me. I have the diagnosed phobia and everything! Sorry if I made you worry, but-”

She was a little annoyed at first, but you really did have a diagnosed phobia of spiders

“My dear, there’s nothing to worry about. Next time, simply yell for a spider.”

Donna Beneviento

Donna was MORE than ready to make anyone who dares hurt you have the worst high of their life

Torture, murder, close family member’s deaths, paper cuts dipped in lemon juice hallucinations were just the tip of the iceberg

She heard you scream for your help, and she sent Angie in to see if you were hurt

“HaHAHAHAHAHA! Donna, you gotta see this, I’m dying!”

Donna stepped into the room and saw Angie on the floor, howling with laughter and pointing at you

You were in the corner of the room, shock-still, tears streaming down your cheeks and skin paling as a Romanian tarantula climbed over your head

She could sense the panic attack from all the way over there

She stepped over Angie and gently took the spider off your head, throwing it out the window calmly

She frowned at Angie, who was still laughing, and she crouched down in front of you

“It’s alright, my love. It’s gone now.”

Donna practically carries you to your rooms, and she lays you down as you come down from the adrenaline

“Wait here. I’ll set something up that kills any spiders that dare cross into our home.”

She did that

She ALSO had a very stern talking to with Angie, who was very guilty afterwards

Salvatore Moreau

He feels so bad that you’re so afraid of a little spider

You’re not afraid of him, but you’re afraid of a spider?

It confuses him, but he doesn’t make fun of you for it

Actually, he tries to make you see that spiders aren’t that bad

“See, love? I’ll just move him over here, there! He’s not doing anything.”

Sal will get books from Alcina or Donna all about spiders and tell you all the good things they do

“A lot of spiders eat mosquitoes! I know you don’t like those, either, so that’s good!”

“This one, right here, is very fluffy, and they get scared very easily. I don’t think it could hurt you if it tried.”

If you’re still really wary of spiders and ask him to stop because he’s scaring you, then all the books are gone

He buys weird spider repellent from the Duke

He lets in an extremely strange lycan who, for some reason, only likes to eat spiders, into his land

There will be NO spiders in this place, thank you very much

“I’m sorry love, I just wanted you to feel more comfortable with them.”

He tried to make you less afraid and that’s what made you feel better

Karl Heisenberg

He comes in running, every sharp piece of metal floating around him as he looks for what’s attacking you

“Kit, what is it? It’s in the corner- OH WHAT THE FUCK!?”

Turns out that Karl Heisenberg

A man who uses dead bodies in his experiments

And on occasion for fun

Who has the ability to manipulate metal

Has an army at his disposal

And is arguably the most fearsome lord in the village

Is afraid of spiders

He THROWS every piece of metal at the spider and hauls you over his shoulder, not looking back

“Kit, we’re staying in Alcina’s basement for the next week so I can have the place checked for spiders. I can afford it, don’t worry.”

Alcina was not pleased to find Heisenberg in her wine cellar (you, she could tolerate)

“Honestly, Heisenberg, you’re acting like a child! Go back to your damned factory and do whatever it is you do. You Y/N, are free to come over whenever you like.”

Both of you just kinda… huddled together for the rest of the day, looking for spiders

“Heis, is that a spider?”

*metal goes flying*

“No, that was a dust bunny.”

“So, spiders, huh?”

“Shut your mouth Kit, you acted the same way.”

After the factory is declared spider-free, you go to the Duke to buy a fly swatter, hairspray, and a lighter

“Ah! Would you be interested in this fine memory?”

The Duke has somehow got a picture of you and Heisenberg huddled together on your bed, covered in fluffy blankets, terrified, in a silver picture frame

“Free of charge!”

I hope you like this, and sorry for taking a while! Spiders! Ew! My asks are still open, btw <3

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sanzu-sanzu-sanzu · 3 years ago

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on the rocks

Sanzu Haruchiyo X Fem!Reader / 800w

It started when somebody—some dumb ass to your left who probably had zero clarity left in his alcohol-addled brain to remember his place, recognize the pink hair and the twin scars of your direct superior—but so somebody had the bright idea of swinging the question Sanzu’s way to let him in on your little drinking game. No, it was even before then; it was when somebody else had screamed ‘Boss!’—and you all had to turn your heads to see which one—as Bonten’s No. 2 came walking in through the door; his mouth quirked up in a pleased smile, scars twinkling at the prospect of alcohol and cheap company. You don’t know who pulled out the chair right beside you but then here he is, almost in a flash, his grip tight over the back of your seat as he lowers himself.

You fight the urge to conveniently rest your head against his veiny arm because of course you’d like to keep your job and what the hell are you thinking training your eyes on the bit of chest peeking out from the undone top buttons of his shirt and—quit it.

“So how ’bout you? What’s your favorite food?”

Some random ass question Sanzu Haruchiyo—your boss, more than anyone’s—catches in-between sheathed fangs, barely settled in his seat, taking half-a-second (and no more) for a curious crinkle between his eyes to show and, without missing another beat, utters

“Pussy.”

to which you flush a bright red, half-hoping none of your jeering company notices, as Sanzu fully settles himself right next to you, the heat of his upper body, so close, thawing the inadvertent chill that awashed you upon his arrival. The man has no concept of personal space, after all—you wouldn’t too if you owned the whole place and most of Japan—so he can manspread his long legs all he wants, drape his entire arm over the back of your chair like he owns you too. He probably, technically does, except he also automatically twitches his leg aside when your knees unintentionally bump under the table, throws a low ‘Sorry’ your way along with a quick brush of his wrist as he inches himself away just a little—barely audible you would’ve missed it amidst the crackle of laughter around the room, in the face of the confident smile on his lips.

You’ve barely recovered when Haitani Ran, the guy from your left, it turns out, and another boss, who is neither a dumb ass nor cheap company, and now you’re sure have recognized Sanzu just fine—but so Haitani Ran decides to break the rule—really, what else isn’t the guy breaking?—and nudges your elbow for your own answer.

Favorite food?

It is you; you with the zero clarity left in your alcohol-addled brain. Your brain machinations, along with the breaks on your mouth, ceasing to work.

“Well, not dick.”

In a voice, in a manner, like it’s the last thing you’d ever want anywhere inside your mouth, eyes rolling to the back of your head in mock scandal like you weren’t just giving the most earth-shattering head to a seasoned crime lord exactly a month ago, though none of them would know, of course,

—and you don’t know why you’re so good at remembering these things—

his balls, and then his (actual) head, the ones eventually ending up shattered, though. Another mission accomplished. Another job well done, Sanzu had said, though he never asks how the hell you manage to get these men away from their fifty bodyguards and prying eyes to get a clean stab through their brains. Too clean.

(He never ever has to. He affords you this much. Isn’t that sweet?)

The entire table erupts in unfiltered laughter, Sanzu himself choking on air, turning to look at you, genuinely surprised, like he never imagined you could be so funny. One guy belatedly chimes in: “Oh, too bad!” followed by a round of “Oooohs,” as if any fucker in this room actually had the chance. A glimmer hidden in your nonchalant smile, your fingers twitching to unsheathe something—the way you do when you would much rather literally cut all the unwanted attention away—another set of laughter before Sanzu’s voice rumbles out from your side, playful and with only a delicate touch of danger:

“Hey, cut it out. Not my secretary, you got that?”

In a voice that commands but also teases because of course your boss is not one to wield his katana at his own men unthinkingly, not over a joke, when he can simply, freely tighten his arm’s hold around your seat, careful not to touch skin. ’Don’t; this one bites,’ were his own words, after all, to those Bonten men or some other who mistook you for easy prey, all those years ago.

Maybe that’s when it started, too.

Yeah, this one devours, and though he doesn’t repeat these words, you know they linger in the tenacity of his smile, his body heat, the shake of his head and the carefree glide of his tongue over sharp teeth.

God, you really can’t be having a crush on your boss, you think as you slip the same smile on your lips when you catch each other’s eyes. How goddamn awful.

@sanzu-sanzu-sanzu 🕷

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demoiselettes · 2 years ago

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Ghost on a train

Pairing: Kyojuro x reader

Category: fluff

Warning(s)/note(s): fem! Reader

+ you’ve found a ghost!

When you took your seat in the train, you were very much aware of the uneasy looks being thrown your way. Or maybe to say your way was an exaggeration. Furtive glances went past you to the seat next to you, that one empty spot by the window. Once you’d gotten comfortable, you’d patted the seat in case it was wet, checked beneath it for bugs, but you saw nothing that would cause anyone to look scared of a simple seat in a train. So, forcing yourself not to acknowledge the unwanted attention, you’d carried on as normally as you could. When night fell and the passengers had been wrapped in sleep’s embrace, you’d allowed yourself to close your book in favor of resting. But when your attention was drawn back, inexplicably, towards the spot there was a man settled beside you.

Your heart dropped and you tried screaming but you choked on your own spit and nearly fell backwards from the edge of your seat. Your outburst had alerted the man (who’d been gazing out the window) and he was now worriedly patting your back. Much to your horror(and embarrassment) you couldn’t feel his hands.

With the last of your strength (and dignity) you pushed yourself upright and out of your seat. You looked around frantically for help, but nobody seemed to have been woken up.

« Miss, » he whispered, with regards to the sleeping carriage. « Please don’t be scared! I am not here to hurt you, »

You opened your mouth to speak, then closed it. What could you have said ? Should you have asked who he was? What he was doing here? How he’d gotten beside you without you even noticing anything? He was striking, with hair that mimicked flame and eyes of gold and red. You were sure if he ever got lost in a crowd his friends would have no trouble finding him. He patted your spot once more with a smile that you took to be reassuring. You stayed put.

« Who are you? » even though you’d meant to sound firm, perhaps a little menacing, a huge smile drew itself on his face.

« My name is Rengoku Kyojuro! It is a pleasure to meet you, miss-…miss..? »

Had you been more relaxed and less alert, you would have laughed at the dejection that showed itself on his face when he realized he didn’t know your name. As it turned out, you could only stare at him.

« Um, i’m [Last name] [First name], »

« Wonderful name! » he boomed. « Please, regain your seat, it is not safe to stand when the train is moving, »

Torn between agreement and incredulity, you chose the former and hesitantly sat down. Up close, you finally noticed the smaller details of his being.

Alarmed, you pointed at the sword that was sandwiched in between his belt and his body. “You have a.. »

« Oh, this? » he unsheathed it in one swift motion, faster than your eyes could register. With that much dexterity, you deduced he must be something of a veteran.

You yelped and scooted back to avoid being skewered. « You’re not supposed to have that with you. »

He smiled, but it was less joyous. “I’m well aware of that. To put it simply, i can’t discard it..”

You ripped your eyes away from him to look around the carriage. There were people shifting in their sleep, some were muttering words you couldn’t make out, but despite the occasional high pitch of his voice none of them seemed bothered. And again, you hadn’t seen him enter the seat..

“How come you’re here, in this spot? I didn’t see you. You weren’t here when i sat down.”

“Oh, i was,” he announced. “You didn’t see me. I can conceal myself to mortal eyes and i’d only made myself visible when i’d thought you were asleep. But you were actually reading!” His laughter echoed throughout the train. No-one stirred. “It’s a wonderful surprise to have someone to talk to! »

« What are you? » you snapped, clutching the fabric close to your chest.

« I’m a spirit, per se! You see i died here, on these tracks, not long ago. They’ve replaced the train as the last one was destroyed. I died while fighting a demon. »

« A what? » you choked on your indignation. You imagined him fighting against those horned creatures with the funny masks you often saw in paintings. « Y-you’re a ghost- oh, shit-« you scurried further back but he seized your arm.

« Please do not be afraid. And do not speak so loudly. There are people sleeping. » he nodded his chin towards the passengers. His smile warmed you. « I’m not an evil spirit. I’m only stuck here. I cannot move on until the demon that killed me has been slain. »

You took shaky breaths to calm yourself, still staring at him wide-eyed. « I-i’m sorry-? » you shook your head. « Wait, this is madness i can’t be talking to a ghost..”

He laughed gently. “If it makes you feel better you can think of this as a dream. When you fall asleep and wake up again, i will be gone.”

You felt a pang of guilt. You wouldn’t have liked being treated as a nightmare even if you’d been a ghost. And even though you were still scared out of your mind, you felt the need to apologize. « I’m sorry, ah.. Rengoku-san. » you smiled sheepishly. « I won’t think of this as a dream when it is reality. Excuse my rudeness i’ve just never.. talked to the dead before. »

« You’re excused! » he boomed and you forced yourself to smile at him, not quite sure what to make of his statement. «So, are you a local? »

“Oh, um, yes. I have a job elsewhere. I came here to visit my family.”

He nodded thoughtfully. “A noble cause! I had a student who loved food from other cultures. She would have loved to talk to you. »

« A student? What did you teach..? »

« Swordsmanship! » with that, he swung his blade.

« Right.. »

« I was a member of the Demon Slayer Corps. Have you heard of it? »

You shook your head. He wasted no time in launching in a discussion about the organization. Truthfully, you didn’t absorb half of what he said because he spoke in frenzied excitement, but you liked the sound of his voice and his presence was fairly comforting. Strange though it was, you were already beginning to warm up to this ghost. Before long, you’d fallen asleep. When you awoke at your platform, there was a small piece of cloth tied to your satchel. It seemed to have been cleanly cut, and it was white with an imprint of flames at the bottom.

#demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba #nanako’s blues #kyojuro x reader fluff #rengoku kyojuro #kny x reader #i took some liberties with the settings and mechanics

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lost-between-letters · 3 years ago

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Whatcha Got There?

Pairing: Dean Winchester X Reader (she/her)

Requested by: @justagirlinafandomworld

Written for: my 200 follower celebration (open)

Warnings: none

Word Count: 368

Summary: old artifacts, Dean being cute, shenanigans

A/N: I just spent half an hour looking for that gif where Dean finds a sword at the bunker and Sam is done with him. I didn't find it but that one up there is cute too. Anyway, prompt is in bold

One thing Y/N loved the bunker for was its extensive collection of cursed, old or rare objects. Sam had looked just about ready to cry when she had offered to catalogue them and store them away safely and Dean promptly had started crying tears of laughter at his brother.

Right now, Y/N was in her new favourite room, sorting through the artifacts when something long caught her eye. It looked like an old leather sheath for a sword, a few crystals just below the rim - most likely for protection. Y/N picked it up from its place on the ground, the weight of it promising a weapon inside. Her fingers closed around the simple hilt, the feeling not quite unfamiliar if a little heavier than her usual knives.

The shrieking of the old metal door told her what otherwise silent steps couldn't. Dean had come to the vault. "Whatcha got there, Sweetheart?"

With a quick twist of her wrist, Y/N unsheathed the sword and pointed it at her boyfriend jokingly. "Fight me if you dare, young fool!"

And promptly two thirds of the ancient blade cluttered to the ground. Years of disuse and acidic air (or whatever the Men of Letters did to their artifacts when they weren't using them) had turned a deadly weapon into a joke.

Dean looked at the excuse of a sword pointed at his chest and burst out laughing. "I'm shaking in fear."

"Don't patronise me," Y/N attempted to pout in order to googly-eye Dean into submission but unfortunately his laughter was too infectious.

When her own giggles died down enough to talk again, she drew a circle in the air with the remaining splinters of the corroded blade. "I could still kill you with this."

"I know you could," Dean nodded solemnly, "I made dinner, my warrior queen. Care to join us?"

Her stomach was begging on its knees at the mention of food. Y/N placed the remaining parts of the sword on a nearby table and hooked her arm around Dean's waist. "Please tell me that you made burgers."

"I have standards," Dean scoffed, put his own arm around her shoulders and dragged her towards the kitchen, "of course I made burgers."

General Taglist: @immrbrightsideeee , @fandomfoodiedancer , @lovesfandoms , @nyotamalfoy , @stixnstripesworld , @foxyjwls007 , @amythedoctor , @Blank-artistry (tag didn't work)

Dean Taglist: @tiggytaylor , @akshi8278 , @mrsjenniferwinchester

If you want to be tagged as well, click here or drop an ask/DM

#dean winchester x reader #dean x reader #dean x you #dean winchester fanfiction #supernatural fanfiction #fluff #spn fanfiction #200 follower celebration

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yourheartonfire · 3 years ago

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CW: general violence and threats, suggestive themes, implied torture

The protagonist knew they couldn't carry it off forever. They just had to hope that when the truth came out they'd have enough warning to run.

They did not.

One day everything was laughter and roses, the next they walked into the dining room to be met with armed guards and drawn swords and the villain pale and terrible with rage over breakfaat.

One look at that face and the protests of innocence died on the protagonist's lips. They put up no resistance as the guards swiftly disarmed them, bound their hands too tight behind their back.

"How did you know?" the protagonist said into the sudden stillness.

The villain tilted their head, eyeing the protagonist like they might a particularly offensive bit of paperwork. And then they stood from their untouched tea and toast to take up their own sword from where it had been laid across the breakfast table.

"Leave me," the villain said, unsheathing the blade. "With this."

The guard captain cleared their throat. "Your Grace, with respect-"

"If you've done your job they're no threat to me now." The villain tested the blade's edge with a light tap. "Take the rug with you. I don't want it ruined."

The guards were too well trained to gloat or laugh like common street thugs over a cornered victim, but the protagonist felt that same vicious thrill go through the bunch. Hands quickly pulled the rug up and away, and the protagonist was kicked down to their knees. The door shut and it was just them and the villain.

"You like my things too much," the villain said into the silence.

The protagonist blinked. "What...?"

"You asked how I knew." The villain strode closer, their rapier glinting in early light. It was not the ceremonial one, nor the dull blade they used for practice bouts. "When you got tired or distracted, I’d see your eyes wander. I wanted to take you for just another greedy hanger-on but... no.”

The blade whistled through the air. The protagonist flinched as it stopped a hairsbreadth from their neck. “You looked at my things like someone who’d never before seen a properly tended garden or a well turned piece of lace. Like someone struck with delight that such a thing could exist,” the villain said softly. "An effective strategy, I'll admit. I was looking so hard for a professional, it took me embarrassingly long to consider that someone could be cruel enough to send an amateur into my bed to do their spying."

"No one sent me," the protagonist said, too fast. They tried to swallow. Their mouth was so terribly dry. Their fingers were going numb, their arms and shoulders starting to burn. "Can I convince you I was just trying to con you out of a few good meals?"

"Oh, I wish you could," the villain murmured back. The sword point flicked down into the soft parquet floor as they crouched to eye level. The protagonist shuddered as those clever fingers curled around their skull, pulled the protagonist closer. "I know how you fight and I know how you fuck," the villain breathed into their ear. "We both you're not going to last long if you make me do this the hard way. Save yourself some pain. Tell me who made you do this."

The protagonist clenched their jaw and said nothing. The villain sighed and took up their sword again. "The offer stands," they said and went to work.

In the end the protagonist told them everything. They could only hope they'd bought enough time for the others to run.

#my fiction #hero x villain #heroes and villains #seduction and destruction #whump #captured #no proofreading we die like men #and by that i mean #me after 11:30p does not count #100

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grewlikefancyflowers · 3 years ago

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I love this detail from the CR arc,

'As Lan Wangji watched the two figures depart, he frowned, baffled. “Brother, why are you bringing them with us? Their laughter and horse-play are ill-suited for handling water ghosts.”'

Even though LWJ insists WWX goofs off too much to be any help on a nighthunt,

'A few narrow boats glided over swiftly with nets in tow, but they didn’t manage to trap anything. Wei Wuxian said, “[…] Lan Zhan, the side of your boat!”

Bichen immediately unsheathed itself from Lan Wangji’s back and plunged into the water.'

He still instinctively listens to him when he points out the water ghouls! He doesn't even check for himself, he trusts WWX's word on it. Even back then, they worked so well together <3 even if he didn't admit it at the time, LWJ always held WWX in such high regard <3 From the start, wangxian were both drawn to each other from mutual admiration <3

Also,

'Lan Xichen commended him [WWX]. “As expected, you really are experienced.”'

So true LXC.

#mdzs #wangxian

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headcanontheshitoutofsoulsborne · 2 years ago

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Elden Ring Chain

Remember the chain game? Yeah, we are still doing that and we finally completed an Elden Ring chain with eight entries in total.

The original prompt was "How Radahn met Leonard."

@dbzespio

It was growing dark; the swaying trees cast winding shadows upon the swampy waters, making the already cheerless area even more gloomy than usual. It was becoming colder too, but the two boys, embroiled within their own personal adventures, didn’t pay any mind at all to the worsening conditions.

“Is it just me…” Ogha remarked, reaching for another arrow as he trudged through the watery muck. “Or do the lobsters around here seem… I don’t know, larger than usual?”

“Eh, who knows?” Radahn answered, tossing their latest catch into his pack. “Either way, I bet they taste the same… Hell, maybe even better now!”

The two broke into laughter. Between the two of them, they had a veritable feast by now.

A sudden racket cut their glee short. Wild splashing coupled with a pattering of hooves.

“Shit!” Ogha dove into the shadows of the trees. “It’s the knights!”

“No,” Radahn slowly shook his head, listening carefully. “There’s not enough of them. Sounds like it’s only one horse.”

Another wild splash, and this time, Radahn was certain of it. Whoever it was out there, they were entirely alone. And, judging by the ferocity of the wildlife, likely in danger.

“Hurry!” He bolted on ahead. “We have to help!”

Blood coursed steadily through his veins as he ran, stomping and crashing through the murky waters. A confident grin tugged at his lips as the boy unsheathed the swords at his waist.

Was this how Godfrey felt? As a warrior driven to protect his land?

It felt amazing.

He had never felt this powerful before, and this confidence pushed him to achieve even faster speeds. He rushed into a glade, and here, he saw just what had happened. A swarm of lobsters had surrounded a baby horse; the poor creature was outnumbered and certainly didn’t stand a chance alone.

Good thing it wasn’t alone.

Radahn yelled, as loud as his young lungs would allow. The sheer force of his cry was enough to knock one of them over; the rest of them whirled about to face him.

An answering screech pierced through the woods, and an arrow shot one of the lobsters dead.

Alarmed, the creatures wildly looked about, searching for the source of the danger.

But they would never find Ogha. Especially not if Radahn had anything to say about it.

He yelled again, swinging both his blades again and again, cutting down the beasts with unyielding stamina. His strikes cut true, and they were more powerful than ever before, something that astounded the young boy, for he had been hunting lobsters all day, but yet had never before known such unbridled strength.

Another answering shriek and corresponding arrow from Ogha, and all the lobsters were dead, with Radahn left panting in a pool of their blood.

Ogha finally entered the clearing, his mouth agape. “Did you just–you practically killed them all! By yourself!”

“Yeah…” Radahn panted, still struggling to catch his breath. “I don’t know what…”

But then he turned and locked eyes with the baby horse; the poor creature was now only just barely able to lift its head.

“We have to hurry!” He turned to Ogha. “Remember that cave we found the other day? Let’s take him there!”

“Well, sure, but…” Ogha stared, dumbfounded, as Radahn bodily lifted the creature, setting him upon his shoulders. “Holy shit! How are you–you don’t need any help–?!”

“It’s my warrior strength,” Radahn explained, heading for the cave. “I can carry him, but I need you to cover me… in case more lobsters show up.”

“Uh, yeah…” Ogha awkwardly followed them before realizing he now had a duty.

He scanned the area carefully, watching for movements. It was difficult with the ever increasing shadows dancing about, but he would do his best! After all, Radahn wouldn’t have asked if he didn’t need him.

Admittedly, he couldn't see very well in the darkness of night, but he could listen.

Yes, other than his own footsteps and Radahn’s he didn’t hear anything else. But he kept alert, listening for any other signs of trouble.

Ogha remained outside once Radahn found the cavern and entered it, setting the baby down upon a scraggly patch of relatively dry grass.

“Don’t worry, Leonard,” Radahn told him, gently petting his face. “I’ll take care of you, and then you’ll become strong again.”

A weak-sounding noise sounded from the horse, and Radahn nodded.

“Yes, you are determined,” he agreed. “That’s how I know you’ll get better soon.”

Horses obviously couldn’t speak, but somehow, Radahn felt he could tell what Leonard was feeling. The creature had a semblance of intelligence; he just knew, for he could see it in his eyes.

“I know you want to become strong, but it will take time. Don’t worry, though. I’ll help you.”

Ogha returned. “Couldn’t hear anything out there, so I think we’re safe now.”

“Good. Thanks, Ogha.”

Radahn took some raisins from his pouch and painstakingly fed them to the weakened foal, one at a time.

“Sweet raisins,” Ogha noted. “Did you steal those from the Leyndell knights?”

Radahn didn’t deny it. “They, uh… they taste good.”

“Radahn… you know that shit’s for horses.”

“If they’re not meant for humans, then why do they taste so damn good?”

“They’re not supposed to!” Ogha insisted.

“Anyway, I need to treat his wounds,” Radahn pointed out, bringing them back to the task at hand. “Let’s use those sticks we found earlier and start a fire. I’ll grab some water from over there, and then we can get started.”

Once Leonard was all patched up (with random bits of cloth the two boys had torn off from their own clothes), the poor baby fell right asleep, and Radahn and Ogha, after a much-needed meal, were soon to follow.

None of them awoke until morning, when the first streaks of light finally broke the darkness of their cavern. For breakfast, the two boys feasted upon the last of their lobsters. And Leonard ate the last of the raisins, with renewed vigor, Radahn was happy to notice.

“Well, that was my last bunch,” Radahn finally announced, petting Leonard again with pride. “You were quite hungry, weren’t you?”

“Wait; you gave them all away?” Ogha blinked. “I thought you liked them.”

“Leonard needs them. He wants to become stronger.”

“Leonard?” Ogha repeated, perplexed. “Who the hell is that? This guy? Wait… what even is he, anyway? A dog? A donkey?”

“This is Leonard,” Radahn declared, gently brushing his fingers through Leonard’s now awkwardly-combed mane. He had marveled at the color; it matched his own, just like his father’s. “He has a distinguished face; don’t you think?”

Ogha stared at the horse for a good while, trying hard to see his friend’s line of reasoning. “Nah… I don’t see it.”

Leonard began to rise to his feet.

“Don’t strain yourself, Leonard!” Radahn cried, practically tripping over himself to help the foal. “I can carry you back to my family’s castle.”

But when he went to lift Leonard, Radahn found he struggled with the task.

“What the hell?” Ogha frowned, puzzled. “Wasn’t it kinda easy for you to lift him yesterday?”

“Oh, that’s right,” Radahn recalled. “That was my warrior’s strength.”

“Warrior’s strength?”

“I became stronger when Leonard was in trouble. I knew I had to protect him, and that’s what gave me strength. Just like the Elden Lord!”

“The Elden Lord?” Ogha echoed. “What does Lord Godfrey have to do with any of this?”

“I felt the strength of Lord Godfrey!” Radahn insisted. “His power, his urge to save his land, that power flowed through my body too! I felt… unstoppable!”

Ogha blinked. “But then, where did your power go? Why aren’t you strong anymore?”

“Uh… Well, I don’t know. But for now, I’m sure we can both carry him home, if we work together.”

“Right!” Ogha grinned, moving in to help. “Let’s take Leonard home.”

~~*~~

“Radahn.” An air of annoyance crossed the royal Radagon’s regal face. “You’ve been pronounced missing for three days and nights. Care to explain?”

Rennala wailed, her face buried in her husband’s chest, soaking his regal raiments with tears.

Young Ranni patted her mother’s skirts, trying her best to console her, while Blaidd watched the entire affair unfold, uncertainty etched on his lupine features.

“Ogha and I were training!” Radahn declared, pumping his fist into the air. “And guess what, Father? I found my warrior’s spirit! And it’s all thanks to Leonard!”

Another sob racked Rennala, halting any further discussion.

Radagon sighed, irritation prickling at his brows. “Do you see what this does to your mother?”

“But–!” Radahn stammered, scrambling for an excuse.

His eyes fell on Ranni.

“Ranni runs off into the forest all the time! Why does she get to go out and play, and I don’t?!”

Ranni’s head whipped about, her wild red hair looking quite like a burst of flames, and her clear green eyes flashed with danger.

But before she could even speak, Blaidd rushed to her defense, “It was my fault! I convinced Lady Ranni to go out! If you must blame anyone, blame me!”

Radagon delicately touched his temples before angrily tossing his hand aside. “Enough!”

“Each of you are old enough now to sort out your matters yourselves!” he declared, disgusted.

He focused his attention now on the still-wailing Rennala, taking her into his arms and holding her close. “Come now, darling…” he crooned, soothing her with soft words as the pair left the chamber, leaving the three youngsters behind to glare at one another.

“Crass as ever!” Ranni’s rage finally bubbled over. “Must thou trouble me with thine own–?!”

But Radahn held up a hand to stop her there. “Whatever, Ranni. Leonard still needs to settle into his new home, and I plan to make sure he feels safe.”

Blaidd’s displeasure soon faded as he watched Radahn immediately take his leave. He turned to Ranni, perplexed. “Who is Leonard?”

~~*~~

“You were wonderful in our last battle, Leonard!” Radahn gushed, feeding him a clump of sweet raisins. “Together, we really are unstoppable; I’m certain of it!”

It wasn’t much of an exaggeration; Radahn was now the youngest general in the history of both Liurnia and Leyndell. And it was all thanks to Leonard; after all, no other horse was strong enough to hold his considerable weight. But then again…

“You were amazing out there today, Radahn!” Ogha boomed, the red plume of his helm trailing after him as he burst into the stables.

“I knew I’d find you out here!” he declared, slapping his brawny buddy on the back.

But what he didn’t expect to find was the man’s face doused in tears.

“Holy shit!” Ogha cried, alarmed. “What’s wrong?”

“I spoke with my father today…” Radahn managed to croak, his copious tears causing his throat to tighten and constrict. He wiped his eyes with his still-bloody gauntlet.

“And?” Ogha pressed, concerned.

“He said he didn’t stop growing taller until he was twenty six.”

Ogha didn’t respond for several moments, racking his brain to try to find the source of Radahn’s apparent issue. But he could find none.

“So then… what’s the problem…?”

Radahn gasped, trying his best to calm himself down, though it wasn’t quite working. “Today, I… I noticed… Leonard, he… He was getting tired out quicker than he used to…”

“Ah, he probably just needs a little more rest today, that’s all!” Ogha declared, heartily patting Leonard on the back. “Sometimes horses just don’t get enough sleep if they’re a little stressed out. No need to worry too much, I’m sure!”

“No,” Radahn croaked, trying (but failing) to swallow his emotions. “I’ve noticed it lately. Like, every time we’re in battle. He never used to be like that.”

“Hmm,” Ogha cocked his helmeted head to the side, peering at the horse closely. “That’s odd. Leonard’s in his prime, and he’s a very healthy horse; so…”

Radahn buried his face in his hands. “The problem isn’t Leonard…”

Ogha turned back to face Radahn, uncertain whether to touch him. The muscular man could very easily crush him in two, even by accident. He settled on speaking to him instead. “Then what is?”

“It’s me!” Radahn bawled, beside himself. “I’m afraid I’m already starting to become too big for Leonard, and if I continue to grow like my father… then I… I won’t be able to ride Leonard anymore!”

“What should we do?!” Ogha exclaimed, his helmet darting to and fro, as if the answer to their woes were somewhere within the stables. “There’s got to be something!”

Radahn crumpled to the ground, his face and nose a runny mess of fluids.

“I know!” Ogha cried, the plume upon his head practically bouncing in place. “Why don’t we ask someone from the Academy? Those guys over there are geniuses; surely one of them might have an idea!”

Radahn’s eyes snapped open. “That’s it!”

“Yeah!” Ogha echoed. “Their combined intelligence knows no bounds! Hell, we could even ask your mom; she might kn–”

“No.” Radahn, deep in thought, slowly rose to a seated position upon the ground. “No one at the Academy knows much of these matters, but I do. Perhaps if I became smarter, I might figure out what to do…”

“That’s a brilliant idea!” Ogha exclaimed. “Let’s become smarter, together!”

Radahn brightened; he never would have dreamed Ogha would follow him on such a difficult quest, but then again, he was his most stalwart knight; he would likely follow him into hell itself. “Then… to the Academy?”

“To the Academy!” Ogha roared, his resulting racket spooking all the horses resting within the stables. “Oh shit.”

~~*~~

Radahn gripped his quill tighter, folding in on himself as he sat scrunched at his tiny little desk. The lecturer was speaking… a language anyway, but he truly had no idea what the sorcerer was even talking about. At all.

He turned to Ogha, still adorned in full plate armor, only to find him frantically scribbling away, his quill nearly as swift as his arrows; the knight was certainly to be admired.

But back to the task at hand. “Ogha, do you understand what he’s saying?”

“Oh, hell no.” Ogha shook his head, still writing. “But I figure if I write everything down, I’ll be able to figure it all out later.”

“Good idea!” Radahn was ready to follow suit, but he soon realized he had another problem on his hands. “Wait… How do you spell… whatever he’s saying?”

“Oh, I have no idea,” Ogha admitted, still scratching away. “I’m making my best guesses.”

Radahn was about to praise him for yet another great idea, but then he paused. “How will you be able to read anything afterwards?”

“Oh, shit…” Ogha glanced down at his handiwork, aghast. “Damn! It’s all useless!”

“Don’t worry; I’ll just ask…” Radahn turned to the student beside him, and she flinched before actively cowering. Another shushed him, though he couldn’t quite tell who; everyone was wearing masks. “Uh, never mind.”

~~*~~

Radahn stood before a window and gazed out beyond the confines of Raya Lucaria, feeling tears at the corners of his eyes. He had to become smarter, for Leonard’s sake, but this massive undertaking was certainly not going to be as attainable as he had hoped.

Probably the most difficult battle of his life…

“Radahn!” Ogha raced down the hallways and in his haste, nearly crashed into several highly alarmed students and faculty. “Look at this!”

He halted before him, leafing through and showing off several stacks of parchment. “These notes probably have all the answers to our next test!”

“Excellent…” Radahn breathed, looking over one of the scrolls. It was written in a fine, pretty script, certainly not anything like Ogha’s scratchy letters. “Where did you get these?”

“Uh…” the knight hesitated. “Well, when I went to the library, I found a bunch of students from our class, and when I tried to talk to them, they kind of… ran away; but they left all these papers behind, so they’re surely worth something!”

“Notes are forbidden…” a familiar voice sounded out, and the two men turned to face Ranni. “For the purpose of an examination is to ascertain that which thou hast learnt.”

“Lady Ranni!” Ogha hastily offered her a polite bow, nearly dropping all his papers in the process. “Uh… what brings you here?”

She didn’t speak for several moments; her glare alone was enough.

“What is thy aim?” she finally asked, her narrow arms folded over her chest. “Traipsing about these halls? Clearly thou hast some ambition beyond thy tomfoolery…”

“I have to become smarter,” Radahn told her, mirroring her stance. “For Leonard.”

“Speak with specificity,” Ranni demanded, her eyes flashing like green sparks of lightning. “Without proper clarity regarding thy intentions, thou art doomed to bumble about in endless circles.”

“I just told you! How can I get any more specific than that?” Radahn huffed. “Listen; either help me get smarter or leave. I haven’t the time nor the patience for your riddles.”

Ranni drew a hand over her face, clearly exhausted. “Listen closely, for I will only say it once: the path to intelligence is as varied as it is vast. Thus, I ask thee once again: what is thy aim?”

He and Ogha glanced at each other, perplexed, but Radahn shrugged. Clearly she was adamant about this. So he answered as eloquently as possible. “I’m worried I’ll become too heavy to ride Leonard…”

A slight smile graced Ranni’s face. “Then thou shalt uncover no such answer here.”

“But this is the Academy!” Radahn protested. “The hallowed halls of Raya Lucaria!”

Ogha fervently nodded. “The smartest people in the world!”

“Hardly.” Ranni snickered. Then she pointed to the east. “Seek Sellia. The folk there shall guide thee true.”

“Does that mean we can leave the Academy?” Radahn questioned.

Did he need to de-enroll? The procedures here were foreign indeed. Nothing like the battlefields he was accustomed to.

“At once,” Ranni told him in a clipped tone.

“You have our gratitude, Lady Ranni!” Ogha bowed, clasping his fist tightly to the shield upon his chest. “We can finally leave, milord!”

Radahn shot him a hearty grin before letting loose a bellowing war cry. Ogha answered him with an equally clamorous cry, wildly stomping his plated feet as his fervor consumed him.

Ranni simply shook her head as she heard the sounds of several folks screaming and running for their lives.

~~*~~

The journey to Sellia was long and arduous, but with Ogha and Leonard at his side, the undertaking felt just like old times, back when they had trekked the swamps of Liurnia together as youngsters. And of course, their travels were far more pleasing than being trapped within the cramped, confusing and confining halls of the Raya Lucaria.

Sellia laid upon a hill, nestled alongside a steep cliff. According to their map, they only needed to cross one more swamp before finally reaching the town. Upon realizing they were nearly there, Ogha slowed his armored steed to a relaxed trot. Radahn had trailed him a bit, so that Leonard would not strain himself. But now, the pair rode side-by-side.

“What do you suppose the folks of Sellia are like?” Ogha wondered.

“I hope they aren’t as easily spooked as the folks at the Academy,” Radahn remarked. “I swear, anytime I even so much as looked at anyone, they wanted to run away.”

“Yeah…” Ogha mused. “That was rather strange.”

The pair had just barely perceived the tiny town at the edge of their vision when they beheld a man standing, entirely immobile, before them.

But he was no ordinary man. Very tall and thin, his skin looked like stone and was more than likely just as durable. He was glaring at them, but he made no moves to fight… until he raised his blade.

The two men halted, and Radahn announced himself, both as general of his own army and as prince of the lands of Liurnia. But the man’s sword did not waver.

“So it’s a fight then,” Radahn grinned, reaching for his blades. “So be it.”

With an encouraging clap to Leonard’s sides, Radahn charged towards the stranger, his war cry immediately staggering him. Ogha, letting loose a similar roar, directed his mount to circle around in a wide arc. He readied his greatbow, striking the lone warrior with several arrows just before the stony man rose back to his feet.

Radahn was ready to deliver a heavy-handed swing, but a sudden, purple aura took hold of him, dragging both him and Leonard closer to their foe… and right underneath his mighty sword.

Radahn, folding in on himself to take the hit for the both of them, staggered beneath the weight of the heavy strike.

Ogha let loose a flurry of arrows, hoping to draw some attention away from his downed comrade. But this time, the arrows meant practically nothing to the man’s stony skin.

He swung at Radahn again, but the mighty general caught the blade, stopping it with his gauntlet. The man frowned, and his eyes swiveled down to Leonard, a target without plated armor.

“Don’t you dare!” Radahn raged, already reading the asshole’s intentions plain as day.

Blood boiled within his chest as he struck the man’s chest with his free arm, slashing it with his blade. The man hopped backwards, a lazy strike preventing Radahn from rushing towards him again. More arrows from Ogha were simply shrugged off.

Their foe raised his blade again and it swirled with purplish energy.

Last time, that sorcery had drawn him towards his enemy…

Radahn grinned. This time, he would use it to his advantage.

He and Leonard charged onwards, while the warrior slammed his blade into the ground, a purple shroud enveloping it in a perfect dome.

Radahn gripped tightly to Leonard’s sides as the pair soared ahead, helped along by the pull of the strange sorcery, and his blade tore into the man’s side, the blow powerful enough to knock him down.

Now free of the magic’s hold, Radahn dashed away, allowing Ogha plenty of space for a follow-up attack. And while their strange foe was floored, Ogha peppered him with arrows, and that’s when the man rose again, this time, holding up his hands for surrender.

Radahn and Ogha came about, uncertain.

The man’s wizened frown lifted into a smile as he slammed his sword into the ground, signaling that he was no longer willing to fight. “Welcome to Sellia.”

Radahn grinned. Now this town seemed far more suited to his style.

~~*~~

His feet burned, feeling as if they were withered apart and yet also searing with excruciating pain. His boots had rotted away long ago, leaving nothing but agony in their wake.

He coughed, reddish plumes on his breath.

He was going to die, and Leonard would have to live on without him…

No!

A wild idea seized him, and he gritted his teeth, slicing his feet off at the ankles. He didn’t need them. Not anymore.

Not with the power of gravity on his side.

Malenia faltered, clasping her prosthetic arm tighter, as she watched him, wary.

In his desperation, his gritted teeth swiftly turned to a wild grin, his ankles propelled aloft by bursts of gravitational magics. He was ready to continue their seemingly endless clash.

At that moment, Malenia readied her blade. In a blink of an eye, she was on Radahn’s shoulder.

And then, the rot bloomed. And the entire land of Caelid was never again the same.

@theschneckenhouse

@irnbruforthetrue

I lost my first fight when I was 15.

I had drawn the ire of one of my mother’s knights with my impetuousness and he squarely put me in my place with the flat of my blade. At the time, it was humiliating, the young lion met defeat at the hands of a man who had barely been a squire during the war of tree and moon. Now, with age, I can say, without reticence, that I deserved a hiding far more severe than the cracked rib and swollen lip I had earned.

I have had my own young lions to deal with in the times since then. Maybe not so many as of late… but those that have the spine to stand with steel in their hands in my presence soon become

acquainted with the sparring room floor.

I never hurt them; there is no purpose in that pain. A sore jaw and tarnished pride are both a valuable lesson that even my most seasoned warriors could well do with relearning from time to time. When a warrior wins more than they lose then they tend to confuse ability with invincibility. Indeed, if the Lord Godfrey was still here I would have him teach me that lesson once more. Ah… Leonard I wish I been there to see that; A true lord amongst men, a lion amongst the lambs, facing down the foes of our good queen and, when none could meet his might, went in search of foes

further afield at the behest of good Marika.

Oh Leonard, I dream of following him into the Badlands. He must have faced such wonders out on those barren wastes. Beasts and horrors of such vile countenance that their very howl would have turned the hot blood of even my red-mane knights to ice. In truth it is an honour to lead them and I do not know if, given the opportunity, I would leave them behind. Even if my honour was not in question at such an act it would be a sorely tested decision.

For is that not the point? If I am to live up to the legacy that Lord Godfrey has bestowed on the knights of Leyndell then to rush off in the name of my own selfish desires would besmirch that very thing I claim to uphold. His blood may not stir within my veins but all the same I claim the savagery of the lion as my birth right.

Hmm? More feed? Okay, just a little more.

…

I sit here talking of duty and honour…

If I saw to my duty then my brother would lie dead and my sister would not. If I upheld my honour then I would have assailed Mount Gelmir with the might of Leyndell, Caria and every knight to hold a blade from the base of that damned mountain to the sea by the dragonbarrow. I… still love my brother but his heresy would put the people in danger and that I cannot abide… I should not at least

He is welcome to sit in his squalor at the top of that stricken mountain till the tree itself is felled. If

he dares come down to the plateau, I’ll…

Well, one interminable threat at a time I would think…

In truth I miss him. Even when I outgrew him; he still made sure to point out I was his little brother; even when I could wield a blade thrice his weight in one hand, he made sure to remind me of when he played the roll that you now fulfil… ah… he had a kind laugh.

He always joked that I had usurped him when I galloped around with Ranni on my shoulders. The way she would giggle when she pulled on my hair…

You’d have liked her Leonard. She might have been a bit quiet at times but she was always filled with love for others. Even in the midst of… what happened… she would wrap her arms around father’s leg and tell him how much she loved him… his leaving was not easy on any one of us but I think it hit her the hardest.

At any rate she was the one who ended up dealing with the wake of that exit. She and I may have both been in the capital in those days yet she was the one who had to see him regularly. By the Deep River, if I saw him more than once a month it was too much. Little Ranni didn’t deserve that, mother should have assigned some fool from the Academy as ambassador… that fellow Lusat could speak unendingly.

Ranni didn’t deserve to be stuck in a place like that. With him and… and with our good queen. If she…

I miss her every day… every moment I feel her loss.

Godwin was a preening fool with an over-reliance on a charming smile to win his fights for him. I don’t think I ever saw him with a blade in his hand beyond the need to pose for a new painting. Yet his loss tore the realm asunder but nary a word of condolence has passed the lips for my sister. I don’t know if father even knows of her… her death. I pray it is an unfortunate contrivance of fate for if he simply doesn’t care my next action will be to topple that blasted tree on top of him. After all, I hold back the stars themselves; I could crumble the mountains like chalk between my fingers…

I know… I know. Maybe there is something of my brother in me after all.

She used to ask me about that. My struggle with the stars. How I collapsed the mountain surrounding my keep slaughtering those parasites they called offspring. I never told her the whole truth… how could I. She thought it was just her big brother taking on the monsters under the bed.

It was like fighting the sea itself. Just one wave of dark, chittering, snapping jaws smashing against the shore one after the other. It went on for days… days. The levies broke and ran after an hour and my men fell back to the keep as it went dark that first night. I thought I was dead, that this would be known as Radahn’s folly.

I am glad I left you in the stables that day. Not much call for a horse atop a mountain after all. Even less so when I rent the mountain itself free of the foundations of the earth and shattered it upon their horde. Oddly enough the sound of an entire mountain being dropped on a legion of star spawn does remind me of a wave breaking. Or at least what a wave breaking must sound to an ant.

Well… that day I was an ant and the breaking wave nearly took me with it.

When the star’s descended… I don’t know what I was looking at… I had read about these beings from beyond our sphere whose movements dictated our lives but to look upon them up close was like…

…

It was like peering through the waterfall and seeing a smooth-worn wall of stone. Simple…mundane… tangible.

I crushed them. I may have been the ant to them but I treated them like THEY were the ant. They screamed but not with their mouths; a piercing noise that tears at my mind even now. It does not inspire fear, or anger… just weariness. As much damage as I wreaked on their bodies they kept screaming. After all they were beings beyond the orthodoxies of life. I hung them like that, from the lights in the sky they called their home. I crucified them by their broken limbs like Rykard used to hang the heretics he caught. Frozen in place, deep within their darkling home, pacified.

I did it for her, and Rykard, and myself. For if the children of Caria’s fates are decided by creatures who care not for the world they inflict their wills, then why should I abide them their apathy. Would it be that I was so foolish to believe that beings from beyond our lands had such control of us. If that had been the case then Ranni would still live.

I still keep them hanging there, imprisoned, if not for their ability to interfere then as punishment for the lives they cost… and as proof of my guilt.

I wish I had been there more in her last days… she had few friends in the capital. Blaidd kept her company as best a shadow could and that troll with the hammer kept up her lessons on things a princess should know. I was even grateful when the twins took to her as they did. Though I was her brother and I ignored her for the whims of my knights.

She favoured Miquella as an intellectual companion while Malenia stood as her guardian against courtiers who took exception to the ‘red haired waif’ having the run of the palace. I witnessed more than one crippling injury at the edge of her blade. She didn’t fight with her opponents but danced with them. Their blades clumsy and untrained besides her simple but eviscerating movements.

The three of them were inseparable for the short time they had together.

Afterwards… Malenia became withdrawn from all but her brother and her knights. Training in private for hours unending. When she did emerge, it was not for long and for a distinct purpose. Even that became a true rarity when Miquella went on his northernly pilgrimage. When she did leave it was with no fanfare. I noticed only when her personal guard marched out the northern gate without so much as an announcement of their leaving.

…

And now she is camped across the river.

It won’t be long now. She is soft spoken, quick to anger, and utterly sure of her ability. If this were any other commander of men, Niall for instance, they would wait for dawn to meet us in battle. Let their men rest and prepare themselves to join with the Erd tree. By dawn the marshy ground would be red with the blood of both armies.

“My lord,” Radahn glanced around from his place in the stable, his fingers like logs delicately stroking his loyal steed’s mane.

“I know, Jerren,” with a sigh like rolling thunder he rose from his seated position as best he could within the confines of the high roofed stable, “If you could please fetch the stable-hands to saddle my horse; I let them have the rest of the evening off but I imagine they will be busy shortly.”

“At once, Starscourge,” he bowed.

“Please, do not call me that,” If it was possible to talk gently while sounding like an avalanche in motion, Radahn had mastered such a technique, “to be honest, even my lord feels like too much of an honorific at times.”

“O-of course… sir,” the giant of a man chuckled as his squire retreated in search of a stable hand. With a muttered spell and accompanying gesture the gold-adorned saddle drifted lightly into place and secured itself. Leonard was a good horse and kept to his master’s side as they headed out towards the outside.

Radahn kept quiet as the cheers of his 15,000 men rent the warm Caelid air asunder. At the crescendo of their braying, he noted how quiet the opposing ranks had been and the thinness of their ranks. It spoke to Malenia’s brazen attitude to waging war… or to the competence and discipline of her warriors.

He spotted the warrior woman in question sat on a large, flat, rock beside the shore. Her blade sat across her lap while she gazed out at the gently running water. He approached slowly, mindful to keep as much of his weight off of poor Leonard’s back as often as he could.

“Brother,” her helmet sat beside her on the stone. Her hair, their father’s hair, flowing freely down her back like a waterfall. It had been nearly a decade since he had last laid eyes on her and the copper rot covering her right eye and brow caught him off guard, “not pretty, I know.”

“Miquella was always the pretty one,” she let out a quiet, tinkling, murmur of a laugh, “I did not know you to be sick.”

“Not sick… infested,” she rose from her seat, blade in one hand and visor in the other, “A… gift from the gods.”

Radahn held his stomach in check from twisting in pity. He had heard of her march south. About her treatment of all who opposed her; she was violent without necessity and merciless in the deliverance of her will.

“Why have you come?” he dismounted by stepping forward and sat on the ground beside her, always mindful of the blade in her hand. She had rarely favoured armor so the brass sheathe covering her right arm caught his eye.

“The northern cold was getting wearisome,” she paced in front of where he sat cross-legged, “A Caelid summer sounded like the perfect remedy.”

“I never took you for a jester,” she returned to her stone and replaced her visor.

“I felt it best to have other skills than warfare prepared in case I found myself without a war to fight,” he let out a low chuckle like a tectonic shift.

“There’s always another war to fight,” she stopped pacing.

“While my mother rules that is a surety,” she met his eyes with her one good one. Even then it had begun to cloud with cataracts, “mother… Marika is the root of the sickness.”

“You refer to that of course,” he gestured as respectfully as he could to her face.

“Not that particular sickness,” she ran a hand across her brass gauntlet, “I may not be as well versed in history and academia as you or Miquella… certainly not as well as Ranni was.” They both bowed their heads a little at that, “but I have poured over the tomes, scrolls, and any scrap that I could find and come to the same conclusion as our brother.”

“I’m listening,” Leonard had wandered off to a nearby shrub and had begun demolishing it.

* * *

They spoke for nearly an hour.

The Starscourge and the Waterfowl went back on forth on their respective views on the actions of the queen. Her instigation of the wars on the giants and Caria itself for her own benefit; of her treatment of Godfrey and their children. Every point put forward by the younger sibling pointing again and again to the god-queen’s utter disregard and apathy to anything but her own place and power within the world. The elder, to his credit, kept quiet on his own misgivings about his verbal opponent’s mother.

As she laid her last point before her brother, they both fell quiet for a moment that spanned

eternity.

“So,” his voice quaking the ground, “what do you propose.”

“The capital is impenetrable to our forces divided,” she had returned to her stone and fidgeted with her gauntleted hand, “Yet united we could stand a chance.”

“An alliance,” Radahn shifted in discomfort, his gilded armor uncomfortable to sit on, “to what… pass power from one god to another?” it was her turn to shift in discomfort, “to who? Your god of rot? To whoever has inflicted this agelessness on our brother?”

“No!” she snapped upright, “I aim to remove all their influence from the world; not just change the puppet master from one hand to the next,” she screwed up her face in frustration as she began pacing for what must have been the dozenth time, “I want to live without someone else’s words in my mouth; to not be a character in someone else’s play.” Her unarmoured hand went to the cracked, copper skin of her brow, gently running furrows through the corruption.

“I…” Radahn glanced to the sky on the eastern horizon, the first starts shining through the dusk.

Their screams ever plaguing him sounded ever clearer, “and when you put the gods to flight what will you do?”

“I will finally lay down my blade,” she said, placing it on the stone as illustration.

“Until someone dissents,” she shook her head, “until someone who thinks they know better takes up their own blade.”

“They will not have reason to fight,” she pursed her lips until they broke into a sneer, “I will destroy anything that could make that happen.”

“And in a world like that do you honestly believe you will ever be able to lower your blade? For even a moment?”

“I…” she turned towards the flowing water and pinched the bridge of her nose.

There was silence for only a few moments.

“Will you help me?” the air was loaded with tension like the moments between the lightning and the peel of thunder.

“I will not,” he rose to his feet, “nor, for the sake of our sister’s memory, will I stand in your way.” He walked away towards his horse.

“That is not your choice,” the tension broke.

“Temper yourself, Malenia,” he turned back, drawing up to his full height.

“All we have discussed was not my plan but Miquella’s,” she slid her visor into place, “I was content to simply take your rune and march on the tree myself… He convinced me to talk instead.” Her voice lost all emotion, simply stating facts in the face of her opponent.

“Then you should have brought the little diplomat with you,” she slid the grip of her blade against the metal of her gauntlet until it clicked into position.

“Maybe,” Radahn’s great hands curled into fists the size of boulders, ready for the slightest movement. When she didn’t attack, he turned his back on her, tramping towards a totally oblivious Leonard.

“Tell me,” he turned back to her, still unmoved, “Have you ever lost a fight?”

“A few times,” he glanced over her lines at the knights watching them with curiosity.

“And how does it feel?” her words were steady but he could hear her uncertainty.

He thought for a moment, “a humiliation that has mellowed into humility.”

She did not respond, stepping through the river without another word.

@fateoftheundead

We also got the "Mushroom version" passed along...

@palepious

When people say, “oh you are reaching for the stars”, what they usually meant was that whatever you are doing is nigh impossible, and you should give up before you get your feelings hurt. This saying however, did not apply to him. Radhan was different.

Ever since he was a little boy his mother had told him that every fate was held in the stars. Their unfeeling eyes watched and hands held the future and demise of each living creature. Including that of his beloved friend Leonard. His noble and gentle steed, oh how time had wronged him. Radhan could recall the days when he was a child and still looked up to Leonard, had to reach upwards to pet him. Now his friend barely reached up to his knee, each painful wheezing breath shaking his frail form. He would not allow them to take Leonard from him, no he would rather take on all the stars and their terrifying might before he would let that happen.

How would one even go about such a feat? Holding thousands, no millions of objects of unknown weight and speed back, for but a second, was something none but maybe his master had ever even attempted. Yet that didn’t matter to Radhan, he had his eyes set on a goal and no matter the cost he would achieve it. There was no other result than victory.

Radhan had left Linuria in the midday, not that it mattered much, the stars were still visible where the light of the Erdtree did not obscure them. He and Leonard would make the journey alone, no one not even his mother or sister could support him in this undertaking, and he didn’t want their support even if they could. Alas, he and Leonard would be enough, his most loyal companions support was all he needed. On their track through the wilderness neither beast nor maddened soldier dared approach them, even those devoid of sense fleeing when he approached. For his destination he had chosen the furthest possible spot he could find from the Erdtree’s ever watchful gaze, the clearer he could see his enemy the better after all.

He found his destination at the southern shore of the weeping peninsula, a clearing offered them a nice place to rest before their undertaking. As ever the weather was clouded and a sheen of rain had his hair sticking uncomfortably to his back and arms. Perhaps he should have decided on a different location. Rykard’s scolding voice was in the back of his head as he sat down on the grass, watching Leonard munch on the thick grass. He could vividly envision his brother's face scrunching up with displeasure at the thought of having to sit in the rain. Oh, what would his brother say when he returned? Would he be too stunned to speak again, like when he had first showed off his mastery of graviturgy? Radhan did hope he would take back his comments about Leonard coming to the end of his adventure and deserving a rest.

Their brake remained until the sun sank over the horizon, not really changing much of the lighting due to ever glowing Erdtree, yet it made all the difference for him. The Erdtree would be his guiding light back home once his feat was done. Speaking off. At the last ray of sun glistening Radhan rose to his feet again, petting Leonard's head. “This is where I must leave thee for now”, he uttered in a hushed tone. Where ever he was going was no place for his fragile friend, and this corner of the peninsula was as safe as Leonard could be.

As if he knew what Radhan had planned Leonard let out a weak whinny and pressed his head up into his hand. He smiled softly before stepping away from his ginger steed, sparks of lightning flicking between his feet and the floor as he called his graviturgy to life. He felt his own power pull him closer towards the earth, forcing his knees to bend to his own might. Mentally he saw the piece of thin fabric he tended to envision while utilizing his abilities, stretched tightly and about to snap.

Leonard knew him well enough by now not to get closer, instead he only pulled a large leaf off a branch and chewed on it melancholically as he watched. This part he'd done many times before, he's felt dirt, and energy be drawn towards him as more lightning crackled. The mental fabric stretched just a little more, and it was like time stood still for a moment before it finally ripped, all energy he had gathered released and Radhan was catapulted towards the heavens.

Despite having done this more times than he could count, Radhan’s heart skipped a beat as he watched the cliff and Leonard get smaller and smaller. He had to squint to keep out the rain that now felt like freezing pebbles smacking against his exposed skin. As he soared higher and higher the temperatures fell even more, his breath freezing midair the moment it tasted the outside, only to melt once it was pressed against his face by the wind. He noticed with growing unease that each breath he took came shorter, as if the air he was breathing was thinner and thinner by the second, yet this would not stop him. He took several deep breaths, this would be all the oxygen he would get until the feat was done.

Suddenly he broke through the ever present blanket of clouds that covered the Peninsula, the sight was awe-inspiring each time. As far as the eyes could see clouds churned and warped around each other, forming an incomprehensible landscape that looked solid yet was not truly there to touch. Above him stretched an endless night sky, barely obscured by the light of the Erdtree, whose highest branches peeked through the clouds far, far away, shedding only a dim glimmer of light.

It was freezing but Radhan had reached his destination. With a wide grin he reached out his arms towards the stars, small bolts of lighting crackling around him once more as he kept himself aloft in the air. His limbs were shaking from the cold and lungs were burning, begging for him to breathe, but he knew that if he did, it wouldn’t make any difference whatsoever.

It was like a swelling inside his chest, as he reached out with his power. In his mind he envisioned a thousand hands reaching out from his body and grasping each star to hold it in its place. The effort to try to hold them made him dizzy, though maybe that was just the lack of air. Some of them halted immediately, some kept on pushing, desperately trying to escape his grasp and keep on their course. Which one was Leonard’s, he wondered. Was it one of those that had given in so easily or was it one of them that kept on moving stubbornly despite all of his efforts? No matter. Leonard’s star as well as all the rest of them would yield to him eventually.

The effort of holding them made Radhan scream, though in his own ears it sounded more like the roar of some sort of animal. In hindsight, it was not the best idea, as it left him with even less air and more painful lungs. Yet suddenly, as if something had changed, the pressure stopped. The stars stopped resisting and ceased their course. He let out a satisfied sigh as he felt himself drop, the deed was done.

He had just broken through the clouds when Radhan could suck in his first breath again, like a man that was about to drown he heaved in heavy breath after breath before catching himself midair. A few seconds later and he would have crashed into the shallow water beneath the cliffs, an unsightly death after the mastery he had shown today.

He collapsed into the grass laughing freely as soon as his feet made contact with solid ground again. Leonard was sniffing his face and made snorted. “I’ve made it Leonard! Now thee must never suffer again.” He was positively giddy as he sat up, petting his friend's head, “thou will see once the sky clears, but I’ve done it. The stars now heed my command, they shall never again move while I draw breath.” As if the heavens wanted to prove him once more that he had succeeded in the distance the clouds parted, revealing the night sky. Forever now showing the same constellations as it had on this night.

@omelevate

@mrslittletall

Radahn let himself fall into the grass, sighing, spreading all of his limbs out.

“This is soooo hard...”, he murmured, frustration bubbling through in his voice. He had practised the whole morning already and basically had made no progress.

He heard a snort and then a cold snout was bumping his arm. “Ah, Leonard.”, Radahn said, putting his attention on his horse, “Don't worry, I won't give up. I will make sure that I won't have to leave you behind. It is just... a lot more difficult than I thought.”

Radahn stood and picked Leonard up effortlessly, walking to the edge of the cliff. The scenery was made out of mountains and greens and lush vegetation. It was beyond beautiful. Radahn loved the scenery of Caelid. After having grown up in Liurnia, which was beautiful as well, but also quite moist, it was such a nice change of pace.

“Look at it, Leonard.”, he said, cradling his horse in his arms, “Caelid is so beautiful. I hope I can come here and protect it one day. All the people here in Caelid are so nice to me.”

Leonard neighed and Radahn chuckled. “Oh, you mean that they all like me a lot because I am nice to them as well?”

Another neigh that sounded like an approval. Radahn couldn't actually understand Leonard, but it was nice to pretend that he could have an actual conversation with him.

Radahn turned around and walked away from the cliff, putting Leonard on the ground. “Well, that was it for the break, time to practice again.”

At the thought of what he had to practice, Radahn sighed again. He put his attention to a big rock near him and lifted it up with his newly learned gravity magic as if it weighed nothing.

“It is so easy with this rock...”, he said, “Why is it so hard when I try to lift myself?”

Radahn threw the rock away and it collided with a nearby wall of a mountain, leaving a crack in the stone. Gravity sorcery was truly fascinating and very very powerful. Leonard stood next to him and looked at him with his beady eyes.

“It probably is because a rock is an inanimate object.”, Radahn felt the frustration from earlier bubbling up again, “It would be easier to practice with something that is not me, but...”, Radahn looked at Leonard and then shook his head, “No, it is not possible, I could lose control and injure you greatly. I can't risk your life like this.”

After all, he was doing all this for Leonard. That he even had thought about the possibility made Radahn feel guilty.

“I just have to keep trying.”, Radahn balled his fists and was about to try to direct his gravity sorcery on himself when something suddenly fell on his shoulders with a loud thud. As he looked, he saw his long-tailed cat that he had taken with him to Sellia.

“Oh, Lacrima, you need to stop falling from high places.”, Radahn said, giving the cat a scratch behind her ear which made her purr loudly, “You always did this back in Liurnia. You really like high places, huh?”

Then an idea struck. Lacrima loved high places and she purposefully was jumping them down only to land beautifully without a single scratch.

“Lacrima, how do you feel about helping me?”, Radahn said, “If I can practice my sorcery on you, I am sure that I can get the hang of lifting myself up.”

Lacrima looked at Radahn and then gave a single mew as reply. Radahn swore that she could understand him. How he wished he had the ability to understand her back.

“You also like Leonard, right?”, Radahn said, holding the cat towards him and she promptly cuddled with the horse, “None of us wants to leave him behind.”

Lacrima cocked her head and gave another mew.

“Thank you, truly.”, Radahn said, “Alright, then let's start practicing.”

And practice they did. At first, Radahn couldn't lift Lacrima at all, the cat would just stay plainly on the ground, looking almost disappointed, but then, slowly, he started to get the hang of it. Lacrima would float and then she would float higher and higher until Radahn's sorcery decided that it was done and she tumbled down. However, she never got hurt, she always landed on her feet and she seemed to love it, practically begging Radahn to lift her up even more.

They continued their training until the sun was going down, basking Caelid in a wonderful orange light. Radahn wasn't looking at it however. He was floating. Only a few inches over the ground, but he was floating.

“I did it! Look, Lacrima! Leonhard!”, Radahn cheered, “I am so glad. Now we don't have to separate... Thank you so much for your help, Lacrima. I am sure Leonard is thankful too.”

Radahn fell into the grass again, exhausted from the training. Leonhard came to bump him again and Lacrima settled down on his chest. At this moment, Radahn knew that the future looked bright for them. @lordmarble

#elden ring #elden ring chain #starscourge radahn #leonard #fanfiction #fanart

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redahlia-writes · 3 years ago

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fire in the sin. (chapter 1) | matt murdock x oc

playlist also on ao3

series masterlist - minors dni

“After the disappearance of its Devil, Hell’s Kitchen waited months before a new vigilante appeared in the night, carrying death with her,” Karen read out loud, and Foggy groaned from his desk, letting his head fall into his hands. “Listen to this - witnesses claim that she took out an entire convoy of traffickers on her own, leaving no one standing. We cannot help but wonder: have we gained a protector, or are we facing another Punisher? Jesus, they’ll never give the man some peace,” Karen muttered, shaking her head lightly.

“Do we know her? Are we about to have another vigilante as a client?” Foggy asked, exasperation already heavy in his voice. “She took out the entire group?” Matt asked instead, leaning towards Karen’s paper. “Are they certain she was alone?” “Seems so,” Karen sucked on her teeth before folding the paper. “Even the cameras have just one person, wearing a mask - and here’s the thing, apparently she had only a dagger as a weapon.”

“Jesus,” Foggy muttered, face opening up in surprise. “How did she do that? Do you think she’s like Jessica Jones?” “Maybe she’s just angry,” Karen shrugged, and Matt arched his eyebrows, perplexed. “They were human traffickers - young girls, mostly. Ever since -” she paused, glancing at Matt, and so did Foggy.

“Matt, it’s not your fault,” he said quickly, as if he could see the doubt taking hold of Matt’s face. The guilt. “We’re doing everything we can, but after all that happened it was inevitable that crime rates would go back up.” “It’s not everything we can,” he retorted, shaking his head. “You heard Karen - after the disappearance of its Devil,” he quoted, and the woman took a sharp inhale in.

“It’s just an article, Matt,” she spoke gently - it had taken so long for them to have Matt take a step back. Leave the Devil behind. “Yeah, okay,” he murmured, clearing his throat. “Shall we get to work?”

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It had been months since he’d last put on the costume. He’d made a promise, and he knew what it meant to break it - but atoning could wait. It was still his city, and he couldn’t allow more death in it. Every day he had the awareness of walking on the bones of those he had failed. If he could prevent more, he would.

Standing on the rooftop, he listened to the familiar noises of Hell’s Kitchen night. He’d tried to shut it out those past months, to not listen to the cars and cries and laughter - it had kept him awake most nights, but he’d remained true to his word: the Devil hadn’t come out.

He almost missed the first grunt of pain - it was so soft, like the person had been caught by surprise, the noise of a blade kissing skin, cutting through flesh and bones and organs with surgical precision, of the heart stopping right away and the body falling to the ground with a thud and one last exhale. It surprised him, how quiet Death could be.

As Matt made its way towards the docks, panic started to rise within the group: it tasted bitter on his tongue, mixing itself with the coppery pang of blood that grew stronger and stronger the closer he got, the more she killed.

He knew right away that Karen was right: she was angry. Her heart thundered in her chest, blood rushing through her body as she went in for another kill - the man heard her and yelped, lifting his gun to try and hit her. She disarmed him quickly, the gun falling onto the floor as she grabbed his wrist and he grunted, bones cracking in her hold - not strong enough to break them, but incapacitate him. Matt listened to the clash, the confusion of their bodies as each tried to hit and scratch and hurt the other. It was messy, dirty, filled with adrenaline and fear.

She had him pinned to the floor, her knees on his wrists, pushing hard enough Matt was sure he heard the bones cracking this time, and the man had forgotten all attempts of composure as he heard the hiss of the blade being unsheathed, screaming for help unaware that no one was left. That he was the last one standing.

“No one’s coming for you,” she mocked, wrapping her free hand around his throat. The man gasped, squirming underneath her. “Please,” he choked out, helplessly. “Please, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Please .” “Forgiveness’ not my job, dear,” her voice was low, slurred through a split lip, with an edge of fake gentleness as she flipped the dagger in her hand.

The baton left Matt’s hand before she could lift the blade, hitting her on the wrist. She yelped in surprise, dropping the dagger on the pavement right next to the man’s head - the instant of distraction caused by the blow was enough for the man to push her off and scramble away.

The woman groaned after falling on her elbow, curling on her side before reaching for her dagger and Matt’s baton, dragging herself across the concrete. He felt her icy stare on him as she moved onto her knees, bones and muscles straining as she pushed through the pain and got up - but instead of directing her anger at him, she turned on her heels and ran after the fleeing man.

It was a game of cat after cat after mouse as Matt went after her.

He was out of shape, he could feel it, but as he managed to catch up on her he realized one thing: she was only human. There was no super strength, no super speed, nothing that fueled her but adrenaline and rage - and that made her all the more dangerous.

“Enough,” Matt grabbed her arm, with enough strength he knew would leave a bruise. She fought him off, swinging her free hand and landing a blow to the side of Matt’s face, just barely missing his ear with her knuckles. “Let go of me,” she bit out through gritted teeth, pulling onto his arm - it seemed to Matt that she was doing her best to not hurt him, baton still in one hand, dagger in the other. Why hadn’t she hurt him?

Matt reached for her other arm, twisting both behind her back as she cried out. “That’s enough,” he repeated, giving her arms a yank so that she dropped both weapons.

She squirmed in his hold, attempting to break free - when she kicked back, Matt was quick to avoid her, and pushed her forward, locking her between his body and the fence at their side. It jingled underneath their combined weight, metal singing and straining.

“He’s getting away,” she complained - pushing her elbows into Matt’s stomach. “Let me go,” she said again, annoyance in her voice.

“You caused enough death for one night,” he warned, and the woman puffed and panted, straining her arm in an attempt to break free - Matt could feel her bones reaching their limit. “You’re gonna hurt yourself.” “I have no problem with you, Devil,” she craned her neck, trying to look at him from the corner of her eye. “Just let go of me.”

“Not until he’s gone - he’s learned his lesson,” he retorted, and the woman gave a quiet scoff. “Yes, I’m sure he won’t think about selling people ever again,” she hissed, pushing her weight back onto him in an attempt to make them both lose their balance, the tip of her shoes scratching against the pavement.

There was something utterly familiar in her, Matt realized. A lingering scent of incense on the exposed skin of her wrists, the fluttering of her heartbeats under his touch. He had the vague impression he’d met her before.

Distracted by his thoughts, he let her slip through his fingers, and she jabbed her elbow into his ribs. Matt stumbled back, gasping for air while still holding her, and she kept upright only by grabbing the fence with her free hand. She kicked her leg out, sweeping his up and twisting her arm free. He heard the bruises blossoming on her skin as his grip faltered, blood rushing up to the surface as she stepped away, kicking his baton away from him while recovering her weapon.

“Stay out of my way, Devil,” she warned before vanishing into the night.

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“You really don’t know how to stay out of trouble, do you?” Maggie’s exasperated sigh reached Matt’s ears before she approached him. “I sure didn’t miss seeing bruises on your face,” she sat at his side, her shoulder bumping with his. “I’m fine, it’s nothing,” he retorted, shaking his head lightly. Maggie reached up, brushing the tip of her fingers across his bruised cheekbone, causing him to hiss and tilt his head away. “Alright, I’ve been better - but I’ve also been worse.”

“Do I want to know what happened to you?” she asked, pinching his chin so as to make him turn his face towards her. “Haven’t you heard?” he scoffed, unamused. “Hell’s Kitchen has a new vigilante.”

“And you couldn’t leave it alone?” she mused, releasing him. Matt sighed, rolling his eyes slightly. “I thought you were done with it.” “She’s killing people.”

“And?” Maggie was still looking at him, her eyes trained on the darkening bruise on his cheek. “That’s what the police are for.” “Sure, because they had plenty of luck with other vigilantes,” he scoffed again, and could feel the sternness of her gaze. “I’ll be fine. I’ve dealt with worse.” “I’m sure you have,” the woman hummed, resting her hand on his arm. “Come on, you can still listen to the last bit of the service.”

Matt let his mother lead him inside, her hand on his elbow as he tucked his cane up under his arm. He had grown familiar to the sounds and smells of the church, like a second home - he’d stopped feeling bothered by the Sunday service crowd. The people were often the same, and Matt was able to pick out the new ones as soon as he stepped in.

He felt it immediately: incense and blood, a bruised body sitting in the front lines. He froze, unwillingly pulling Maggie’s arm and tilting his head to one side. The heartbeat was steady through whispered prayers.

“What is it?” she asked, noticing the shift in Matt’s expression. “Matt, what did you hear?” “She’s here,” he whispered, feeling the alarm in his own voice. “She’s -” he paused, eyebrows knitting in confusion. “Praying?” “That is not for you to hear, Matt,” the woman said, tugging his arm with a little harshness. He parted his lips, ready to protest, but she squeezed his elbow. “Not in here. We’ve had enough action in this church already, don’t you think?”

Matt’s apologetic expression nearly broke her heart, but she guided him to his usual seat at the back of the aisle, then settled at his side. He felt the sudden rush of gratefulness for his mother, the woman at his side holding his hand reassuringly as he forced himself to not intrude upon someone’s private faith, and yet -

Why was she there? Was she just mocking it? Was she there with someone else? Who was in her prayers, what was she asking for? Was the vigilante like him, seeking forgiveness, seeking comfort? He couldn’t focus on the service. He couldn’t focus on his own prayers. All he could feel was the steady rhythm of her heartbeat, one-two, one-two.

He shot to his feet right as the service finished, but Maggie grabbed him by the arm, pulling him down at her side. Her gaze was still on the aisle, but her grip was firm on him.

“You’re hardly in the condition to confront her, are you?” she spoke calmly, tilting her head as the crowd started to disperse, chatting quietly. Matt heard her get up, wrapping her coat tightly around herself. Her bones were aching, cracking with her movements, and she gently rubbed her wrist, a dark bruise on her skin. “She’s getting away,” he echoed her words from the previous night.

“Even God rested on Sunday, Matt,” Maggie maintained her voice low, and tilted her head to look at him - worry, Matt realized. She was worried for him. “You’ll find her again. Not today.”

He listened to her vanish again in a crowd, her steps delicate across the pavement, away from the church, lost into the city.

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Matt knew Foggy was waiting for him at the apartment the moment he stepped inside the building. He knew he would have to explain the bruise on his face.

But Foggy’s irritation was bitter in the air, and Matt stopped as soon as he reached the floor, tucking his cane away. Foggy exhaled sharply, his eyes fixed on Matt’s face and his stiff movements.

“I was passing by the police station,” he said as a greeting, biting out the words. “And I heard there was another attack from that vigilante - apparently, one made it out,” he cleared his throat, shifting his weight from one leg to the other. “He said that a masked man helped him.” “Foggy,” Matt’s voice was oddly meek. “I can explain, let’s just -”

“Were you going to tell us?” he blurted out, nervousness in his words. “That's all I want to know: were you going to tell us? Me ?” “Of course,” Matt sighed, and Foggy scoffed. “I mean it, okay? I went to church, but I was going to tell you.”

His friend hesitated. Matt could hear his quick breaths, worry and annoyance in equal measure. He took a few steps forward, and Foggy tilted his head, clicking his tongue. “Did she do that?” he asked after a moment, lifting his hand. “Your face.” “Yes. She’s quite something,” Matt admitted with a low sigh. “She was at church.”

“Oh, great!” Foggy exclaimed, stepping aside to let Matt reach the door. “So, what, round two right on holy ground?” “No, Sister Maggie didn’t let me get close,” Foggy’s relieved sigh was low but audible - it baffled Matt each time how much the people around him still cared about him. “It was all so strange,” he admitted then, voice low.

“Why? Is she actually like Jones? Any of them?” he followed Matt inside the apartment, quickly getting rid of his jacket as Matt shook his head. “No, not that - Karen was right on that, she’s just angry,” he felt the surprise in Foggy’s expression - he didn’t blame him. Not with his skin still tingling over his cheekbone. “I think she’s more like Frank.”

“Is that supposed to be a good thing?” Foggy asked, baffled. Matt gave a light shrug. “She had every chance to hurt me, Foggy, yet she didn’t,” he knew his friend was looking at him as if good sense had been fully knocked out of him. He didn’t blame him.

“I’m sorry, do I need to remind you she’s killing people?” he pointed out as they sat on the couch and armchair respectively. “No, I know that, it’s just -” he sighed, shaking his head. “She was holding her dagger so that it wouldn’t cut me - even when she broke free, she didn’t try to attack me. She just walked away.” “Okay,” Foggy hesitated. “So, she has a code? Like Frank?”

“Maybe, I don’t know,” Matt closed his eyes, leaning his head back as he frowned. “And then at church - she was praying.” “Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do at church?” “Yes, just - it makes no sense,” he wasn’t sure why that nagged at him so much.

“Maybe she was atoning - are you really trying to understand her?” “We did it for Frank,” Foggy groaned lightly - of the three, he was the one who still couldn’t digest the Punisher. “There has to be more. With the people she targets, it can’t be just that she wants to kill.”

“Matt,” Foggy sighed, closing his eyes in premature defeat. “You can’t always find the good in everyone - the human. Sometimes people are just the way they are.” “I know,” he said, slowly, and Foggy knew what would come next. “But I have to try to understand.”

“Just -” Foggy knew he wouldn’t convince Matt to drop it. To wait for the police to do something about it. To just let things run its course. “Be careful, please? If that’s her holding herself back, I don’t want to think what she could do should she think of you as an actual threat,” he gestured vaguely at Matt’s face, and he responded with a smirk. “I’m serious, Matt. And you’re telling Karen right away.” “Yes, alright, you’re right.”

You can’t always find the good in everyone - the human. Matt wasn’t trying to. For a long time, truth be told, he hadn’t thought that to be possible - some people were just rotten. It probably was the Catholic in him, forcing him to divide the world in good and evil, black and white - the years as the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen had taught him otherwise. Frank, Elektra, Jessica Jones - there was more. Much more.

Something in Matt told him that he needed to try. Perhaps it was the Devil - perhaps the devil’s advocate.

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Benzoin, frankincense and myrrh - a smell so familiar to Matt, it was easy for him to find it, even with the taste of blood in the air almost overpowering it.

She was hiding in the shadows, her breath calm and controlled even as her heart pumped apace in her chest, fists opening and closing at her sides in anticipation. She carried no weapons but her dagger, strapped to her side, and the only skin left uncovered was of her wrists and a window at the eyes - normal clothes, with no special material to shield herself. If not for the covering of her mouth and hair - and the blade, though carefully hidden - she would look like anybody else out on a casual stroll.

“Do you purposefully pretend to be a civilian, or are you just not worried you’ll get injured?” his voice made her recoil, hand flying directly to the dagger as she snapped her head around and focused her gaze on him. Matt could almost imagine it, piercing eyes that tried to look past his own mask. “I told you to stay out of my way,” she hissed, but retreated her hand from the weapon. “Get on with you, Devil.”

“You’re not gonna attack me?” he asked, stepping forward. She shifted her position, ready to spring into action, but her hands remained firmly at her sides. “I told you already, I have no quarrel with you,” she lowered her voice, tilting her head slightly the same way he did when he listened for something. Unconsciously, he mimicked her. “Plus, it was you who attacked me last time. Just let me do my thing.”

“Your thing being killing people?” she scoffed, eyes rolling. “You were at church last Sunday,” it caught her by surprise, blinking rapidly in his direction as she tried to rationalize his statement. “Didn’t picture you for a Catholic.” “I’m Old Testament,” she sneered. Matt's lips curved in an almost patronizing smirk, and he took another step in her direction. She backed away, fists clenching at her sides. “How’d you know it was me?”

“Call it a hunch,” he shrugged, and she tensed furthermore. “So, what - you murder people, then ask for forgiveness?” this time she didn’t move when he got closer, simply tipped her chin up with pride. “He’s pretty forgiving, truth be told. It’s his thing,” he could hear the hitch in her breath, fingers twitching to reach for her weapon should she need it. “Not that He hasn’t asked plenty of killing already,” Matt frowned, hesitating.

“You’re doing this because of God?” there was a pause, then she laughed - a soft, controlled sound, eyes crinkling. This time, it was her who stepped forward, craning her neck a little to try and meet his eye. “I’m doing this because it’s needed,” she had lowered her voice once more, a confession-like tone that had Matt somewhat shivering. “Because there’s rot in this city, and the cockroaches keep on coming unless you kill them.”

“There’s the police,” he pointed out - she snorted before he could even finish, a sharp, annoyed noise. Matt frowned again: it wasn’t just scorning, it wasn’t just anger. Underneath it all he felt disappointment. He felt fear. He leaned in. “You don’t believe that?” “If the police were able to do their job, neither of us would be here,” she retorted, and he felt her eyes roaming his costume, lingering for a moment on the batons.

“What happened to you to make you so disillusioned?” he’d lowered his voice, knowing she would hear him nevertheless. Her breath caught in her throat, and Matt felt the weight of her gaze on him, heartbeat accelerating. “It’s none of your fucking business, altar boy,” in spite of himself, he snorted.

“Jesus, you’d get along with Castle exceptionally well,” he muttered. “It's a personal vendetta, then?” the air shifted as she tried to land a blow against his chest - palms open in an attempt to shove him backwards. Instead, he grabbed her wrists and pinned her arms down, leaving her to struggle against him with her head turned to the side. “I thought you said you had nothing against me.”

“I changed my mind,” she spat out, stepping on his foot. Matt groaned, but instead of releasing her only tightened his hold on her wrists. She was about to protest, when the noise of a motor starting caught her attention. She gasped, turning her head - with the movement, Matt caught a whiff of her scent: past the incense and blood, a delicate flowery perfume. “No,” she whispered, attempting to wrench herself free.

“They’ve got nothing,” he reassured, and she stepped on him again, harsher. “Will you stop that?” he muttered, pulling her against his chest. She exhaled sharply, looking up at him. “I got them out - the children aren’t in there.” “And what do you think will happen when they realize that?” her voice was dripping venom, mouth close to his face through the fabric of her clothes. “That they’ll just let it go? Or maybe find more children?” at last she pushed away from him, stumbling back and massaging her wrists. “And I’m supposed to be the delusional one? You think freeing a few of them will put an end to it?”

“And your method works?” he tilted his head to the side. “Tell me, how does killing them make you better than them?” her heart skipped again - then she scoffed, stepping away. “I never said I’m better than them,” she retorted, voice plain and emotionless. “I know I’m no saint. I don’t claim to be one - I don’t care to be one,” she turned around, and though her body was still tense and ready to fend him off, she didn’t spare him a second glance. “I’m saying this one last time, Devil: stay out of my way.”

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The copper tasted bitter on Matt’s tongue.

He’d grown used to the feeling of blood flooding his senses - it was New York, blood was everywhere, at every time. But he could feel it so clearly that night, he knew it was close. He knew it was a lot - he knew it belonged to a single person. He almost forgot to put his suit on in his haste of running out of his apartment, helmet sitting askew for a few moments on his head before he took off.

She was laying in a lake of blood, raspy breaths coming out her parted lips as she tried to make her way out of the back alley she’d been thrown into, with bruises blossoming across her skin.

“You gotta be fucking kidding me,” she groaned, her voice barely audible through the covering of her mouth. “Isn’t an angel supposed to come and get me?” she cried out when she planted her palm against the concrete, attempting to get up.

“Wait, don’t move,” he urged, reaching her side. He felt the squelch of the blood under his shoes, felt it soaking his pants as he kneeled by her. She tried to push him away, hand flailing uselessly in his direction. “Stop it, you’re bleeding out.” “No shit,” she scoffed, and groaned again, reaching for her leg. “Are you always this observant?” he could feel her heart slowing down, breath trembling with each of her words.

Matt didn’t respond, straightening enough to undo his belt with swift hands. He reached down to her leg, wrapping it around her thigh, as high as it would go, before tightening it. She whimpered again.

“Sorry, I’m sorry,” he said, giving another yank to the belt so as to try and cut the blood flow. He felt her sway, arms trembling as she tried to push herself in a seated position. “Hey, can you look at me? You need to stay awake.” “I’m trying, I can’t -” she slurred, grasping at the air as her eyes started fluttering shut.

Matt cursed, reaching over to cushion her head as she slipped into unconsciousness with a snivel. Her heart was still beating, and he knew the hospital was not an option as he pulled her off the ground, careful to not compromise her wound.

It was not the first time his living room saw a battered body, nor was it the first time he called Claire with hands coated with blood, phone almost slipping through his fingers.

“Matt?” there was always a note of alarm in her voice whenever she answered him. “How do I stop the femoral artery from bleeding?” he heard Claire gasp on the other side of the call. “It’s not me, but I think she’s lost a lot of blood already,” he could hear her move around the room, reaching for keys, her purse. Despite himself, he was grateful for her deciding to go there directly. “She just passed out - I tried to cut the flow with a belt, but it barely slowed down.”

“Put her leg up, it has to be above the level of the heart, and press directly where the leg meets the hip - it’s a pressure point,” he heard the door close behind her, her steps across a corridor. “If you can use a cloth, a shirt - something clean to apply pressure on the wound.”

Matt followed Claire’s instructions, locking the phone between his shoulder and ear. He could still hear her breath, slow and choked back. Matt reached up and pulled the cloth off her nose and lips - the woman gasped, opening her eyes for a few instants before rolling to the back of her head again. Matt cursed again, placing his hand on her hip and pushing down, hard.

“Matt?” Claire called, the rumble of the car starting underneath her. “I’m at my apartment, the spare key is behind the radiator next to the door,” he replied, grabbing the blanket on the back of the couch and placing it on her wound, applying pressure on that, too. “Is there nothing else I can do?”

“Not until the bleeding stops, I have some supplies with me but you’ll have to -” “I know, wait. I’ll wait.”

In wait, Matt prayed. He didn’t know whether or not she truly went to church for comfort, because she believed, whether or not her prayers were meant to be heard or just an old habit - but he prayed, and waited, and waited, and prayed, the rush of blood slowing down under his hands.

Claire was there in less than 15 minutes, the door opening and closing behind her hurried steps. Sweat coated the vigilante’s, dripping down her neck, and she’d started shivering just a few moments before, shock settling in at last.

“Do I even wanna know?” she stepped around him, looking down at the woman and reaching to touch her forehead. “How’s the situation?” “It shouldn’t start flowing like before if I take off my hand,” he retorted, tilting his head. The woman’s blood barely reached her numb leg - not enough it was fully unresponsive, but it didn’t feel like it would pour out of her in rivers. “You can do something, right?”

“The hospital could do it better, it’s -” she sighed heavily, reaching up to tie her hair before walking to the kitchen sink. “It’s a surgery, Matt. I’m not a surgeon.” “You stitched me up plenty of times,” he pointed out as she washed her hands thoroughly. “I was half-dead when you fished me out of that dumpster.” “Yeah, yeah, no need to reminisce about the old times,” she scoffed, putting on her gloves and inhaling deeply. “Just - okay, I can do it. If she wakes up, you’re gonna have to keep her from moving.”

Matt focused on her breathing, low and regular, rather than the wet sound of Claire’s hands on the flesh of her thigh, of the needle piercing her skin, stitches pulling and tightening the wound close. She worked slowly, carefully, glancing up to them every now and then. The smell of blood was gradually overpowered by the antiseptic.

“What is it?” he asked when Claire exhaled sharply, leaning towards her. “It’s going to scar, but it should work,” she whispered, and Matt felt some tension leave his shoulders. “I thought you were done with the costume.” “I was, it’s just - she caught people’s attention,” it wasn’t much of a justification, and Claire knew it too. Still, she nodded, carefully wrapping the woman’s thigh in gauze.

“So she’s the vigilante that terrorizing half of Hell’s Kitchen?” she sighed, getting up and taking off her gloves. “I expected someone different. And I didn’t expect you to know her.” “I don’t,” surprise registered quickly on Claire’s face, still reeling from the small operation. “We met a couple of times, then I heard her bleeding out a few streets away - but I don’t even know her name.”

“Right,” after a moment of hesitation, she shook her head and turned to reach for her bag. She took out two pillboxes and walked back to the kitchen counter. “The one closer to the edge is a painkiller - she might need it, not more than 4 in 24 hours. The other one is to avoid infections - one in the morning, one in the evening. She’s gonna need food to recover after the loss of blood, and she should be monitored.”

“How long?” Matt wondered if someone was waiting or looking for her. If, somewhere in the city, someone was walking in circles in their living room, expecting a call, a text, a knock. “It should take between 6 and 8 weeks to fully recover - longer if she’s anything like you,” Matt scoffed lightly. “What’s that supposed to mean?” at last, Matt reached up to take his mask off - he’d barely realized it was still there, too preoccupied with the blood.

“Just make sure she doesn’t put any weight on it for a while,” Claire sighed tiredly. “Yes, of course,” he reached the kitchen, and carefully cleaned his hands, shedding the blood that felt like a second skin down the drain - still, the smell remained pungent in his nostrils. “Can you help me move her to the bed?”

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