#what it might have once been — together — not alone — not returning alone �� the king and queen of Terrasen — I need u more — 2 whatever end

[acourtofquestions]

Rowaelin Chapter 41 Kingdom of Ash:

She'd rebuild it—what she had been.

Perhaps one last time, perhaps only for a little while, but she'd do it. If only for Terrasen.

Rowan swooped from the mast, shifting as he reached her side at the rail. He surveyed the night-black sea beyond them. "You should rest." She slid him a glance. "I'm not tired." Not a lie, not in some regards. "Want to spar?" He frowned. "Training can start tomorrow."

"Or tonight." She held his piercing stare, matched his dominance with her own.

"It can wait a few hours, Aelin."

"Every day counts." Against Erawan, even a day of training would count.

Rowan's jaw tightened. "True," he said at last. "But it can still wait. There are ... there are things we need to discuss." The silent words rose in his animal-bright eyes. About you and me.

Her mouth went dry. But Aelin nodded In silence, they strode into their spacious quarters, its only decoration the wall of windows that overlooked the churning sea behind them. A far cry from a queen's chamber, or any she might have purchased as Adarlan's assassin.

At least the bed built into the wall looked clean enough, the sheets crisp and stainless. But Aelin headed for the oak desk anchored to the floor, and leaned against it while Rowan shut the door.

In the dim lantern light, they stared at each other.

She'd endured Maeve and Cairn; she'd endured Endovier and countless other horrors and losses. She could have this conversation with him. The first step toward rebuilding herself.

Aelin knew Rowan could hear her thundering heart as the space between them went taut. She swallowed once. "Elide and Lorcan told you... told you everything that was said on that beach."

A curt nod, wariness flooding his eyes. "Everything that Maeve said." Another nod.

She braced herself. "That I'm-we're mates."

Understanding and something like relief replaced that wariness. "Yes."

"I'm your mate," she said, needing to voice it. "And you are mine."

Rowan crossed the room, but halted a few feet from the desk on which she leaned. "What of it, Aelin?" His question was low, rough.

"Don't you..." She scrubbed at her face. "You know what she did to you, to ..." She couldn't say her name. Lyria. "Because of it."

"I do know."

"And?"

"And what do you wish me to say?"

She pushed off the desk. "I wish you to tell me how you feel about it. If…"

"If what?"

"If you wish it wasn't so."

His brows narrowed. "Why would I ever wish that?"

She shook her head, unable to answer, and stared over her shoulder toward the sea.

It seemed like he would close the distance between them, but he remained where he was.

"Aelin." His voice turned hoarse. "Aelin."

She looked at him then, at the pain in his words.

"Do you know what I wish?" He exposed his palms, one tattooed, the other unmarked. "I wish that you had told me. When you realized it. I wish you had told me then."

She swallowed against the ache in her throat. "I didn't want to hurt you."

"Why would it ever hurt me to know the truth that was already in my heart? The truth I hoped for?"

"I didn't understand it. I didn't understand how it was possible. I thought maybe ... maybe you might be able to have two mates within a lifetime, but even then, I just ….." She blew out a breath. "I didn't want you to be distressed." His eyes softened. "Do I regret that Lyria was dragged into this, that the cost of Maeve's game was her life, and the life of the child we might have had? Yes. I regret that, and I wish it had never happened." He would bear the tattoo to remember it for the rest of his days. "But none of that was your fault. I will always carry some of the burden of it, always know I chose to leave her for war and glory, and that I played right into Maeve's hands."

"Maeve wanted to ensnare you to get to me, though."

"Then it is her choice, not yours."

Aelin ran a hand over the worn wood of the desk. "In those illusions she spun for me, she showed me variations on one more than all the others." The words were strained, but she forced them out. Forced herself to look at him. "She spun me one dreamscape that felt so real I could smell the wind off the Staghorns."

"What did she show you?" A breathless question.

Aelin had to swallow before she could answer. "She showed me what might have been—if there had been no Erawan, if Elena had dealt with him properly and banished him. If there had been no Lyria, none of that pain or despair you endured. She showed me Terrasen as it would have been today, with my father as king, and my childhood happy, and..." Her lips wobbled. "When I turned twenty, you came with a delegation of Fae to Terrasen, to make amends for the rift between my mother and Maeve. And you and I took one look at each other in my father's throne room, and we knew."

She didn't fight the stinging in her eyes. "I wanted to believe that was the true world. That this was the nightmare from which I'd awaken. I wanted to believe that there was a place where you and I had never known this suffering and loss, where we'd take one look at each other and know we were mates. Maeve told me she could make it so. If I gave her the keys, she'd make it all possible." She wiped at her cheek, at the tear that escaped down it. "She spun me realities where you were dead, where you'd been killed by Erawan and only in handing over the keys to her would I be able to avenge you. But those realities made me ... I stopped being useful to her when she told me you were gone. She couldn't get me to talk, to think. Yet in the ones where you and I met, where things were as they should have been ... that was when I came the closest."

His swallow was audible. "What stopped you?"

She wiped at her face again. "The male I fell in love with was you. It was you, who knew pain as I did, and who walked with me through it, back to the light. Maeve didn't understand that. That even if she could create that perfect world, it wouldn't be you with me. And I'd never trade that, trade this. Not for anything." He extended his hand. An offer and invitation.

Aelin laid hers atop his, and his callused fingers squeezed gently. "I wanted it to be you," he breathed, closing his eyes. "For months and months, even in Wendlyn, I wondered why you weren't my mate instead. It tore me up, wondering it, but I still did." He opened his eyes, and they burned like green fire. "All this time, I wanted it to be you."

She lowered her gaze, but he hooked a thumb and forefinger around her chin and lifted her face.

"I know you are tired, Fireheart. I know that the burden on your shoulders is more than anyone should endure." He took their joined hands and laid them on his heart. "But we'll face this together. Erawan, the Lock, all of it.

"We'll face it together. And when we are done, when you Settle, we will have a thousand years together. Longer."

A small sound came out of her. "Elena said the Lock requires—"

"We'll face it together," he swore again.

"And if the cost of it truly is you, then we'll pay it together. As one soul in two bodies.

Her heart strained to the point of cleaving. "Terrasen needs a king."

"I have no intention of ruling Terrasen without you. Aedion can have the job."

She scanned his face. He meant every word He brushed the hair from her face, his other hand still clasping hers to his chest, where his heart pounded a steady, unfaltering rhythm.

"Even if I had my choice of any dream-realities, any perfect illusions, I would still choose you, too."

She felt the truth of his words echo into the unbreakable thing that bound their very souls, and tilted her face up toward his. But he made no move beyond it.

She frowned. "Why aren't you kissing me?"

"I thought you might want to be asked first."

"That never stopped you before."

"This first time, I wanted to make sure you were ... ready." After Cairn and Maeve. After months of having no choices whatsoever.

She smiled despite that truth. "I'm ready to be kissed again, Prince."

He let out a dark chuckle and muttered, "Thank the gods," before he lowered his mouth to hers.

"You're my mate." Her words were a breathless rush. "And I am yours."

The world might have been burning around them for all she cared, all he cared, too.

"Together, Aelin," he promised, and she heard the rest of the words in every place their bodies joined. Together they would face this, together they would find a way.

Together we'll find a way, their mingling breaths, the crashing sea, seemed to echo.

Together.

[bluebellhairpin]

Cregan Stark X Wife!Reader

Summary: Preparation to leave to Castle Black for the winter months is well under way, and you're reluctant to be left alone in Winterfell. Cregan, having had the same worry, provides what could be a solution. A solution with a name. And fur. (wc. 2.3k>)

Warnings: Reader has she/her pronouns + fem bodied. Pregnancy. Assassination attempt. Unnamed character death. Blood + gore. Cregan wants to be a girl dad. Unedited (lol).

Listening to: 'Wolf at Your Door' by Chole x Halle - "When you're laying in your bed at night, when the air's just a little too quiet, better hope that you're saying your prayers."

Series Masterlist || Masterlist || Ko-Fi || AO3 link

Winterfell was a somber place when the cold rolled down from the north. 

Although only ten men were sent to the wall every winter, everyone left behind knew someone who was sent away. No matter how short of a life you lived, you also always knew someone who died there. Indeed, life on the wall was as harsh as the force it existence kept at bay. 

For you though, the man you lost always returned. The last three winters had you spend upwards of three months without your husband - and in turn rising to take his place as custodian of Winterfell. No matter how busy the role kept you, it never helped you miss Cregan Stark any less. 

With winter approaching once more, each moment with him seemed to not be enough. Yes, the Wall was dangerous, and even Cregan was never guaranteed to return, but this year there was something else that willed you to want him to stay. Something else that made him want to stay too. 

“Each day my resolve seems to crack,” he told you one night, fire cracked in its hearth as you both lay under blankets of fur. His hand rested protectively over your belly. “Already now I can see our babe grow, and I know I’ll not only be missing you but her too.”

“‘Her’?” you hummed, head turning to nose his cheek. “Such a confident tone, my lord.” 

“I am confident.” he replied, turning to press a soft kiss to your lips as his hand idlily rubbed along your stomach. 

“And if you needed an heir at the end of this cold winter, what then?” 

“If my lady wife deems me worthy, we might try for one again.” he said, sedating what could’ve been the start of your mood change with words almost too sweet to be coming from the frosty king in the north. “But that is something we can decide once all three of us are safe together when summer rises.” 

Cregan’s soft words and warm breath on your cheeks made your mind wandered to a time not so far away where you wouldn’t have his heat so close. A time when his comfort was going to be gone. 

“I’m going to miss you.” you said, turning into his hold more, and he let you snuggle into his chest. “This time will feel longer than all the others.”

“I doubt that will be the case for you.” he said, lips moving from their place pressed into your hair. “Winterfell will keep you busy, between that and resting for the babe’s sake, you won’t have time on your hands for much else.” 

“I may not want to rest.”

“You will. The Lord of Winterfell commands it.” 

“The Lord of Winterfell won’t be here, he cannot have a for sure say in what I do or do not do.” You felt him smile into your hair, and you pulled away with a twitch of your own mouth. “What?”

He pulled away a little too, shyly smiling down at where you still laid. He was acting far too coy to be considered normal. 

“I might not be leaving you completely alone.” 

“... Cregan.” you started, sitting up on our elbow. 

“I was going to show you on the morrow, but since you’ve forced my hand -”

“-I? Forcing your hand?”

“- Since you forced my hand,” he said, pressing a kiss to your forehead as he slipped out from the bedcovers, “I will be right back.”

“What…” You tried, but your voice tempered out as he swiftly made his way from your bedchambers. 

Sighing, you sat back in your pillows, arms folded, and refraining from pouting. It wasn’t long into your settled position of guessing what in the seven kingdoms your husband was doing before he was back. 

Cregan had clearly gone outside, snow settled on the top of his hair and along the shoulders of the fur cloak he snatched before leaving. In his arms was something squirming. You frowned, eyeing the movement under the cloak as he strode over. 

“What is that?” you asked. 

“A protector for the Lady of Winterfell, as per the orders of her lord husband.” Cregan said, and let the squirming mass break free from his hold onto the bed. 

It was a… pup? No not possible, it was too big. From how it acted it was a few months surely, but it was just so big. Then you thought some more. Could it really be? 

“A direwolf?” 

“Not any direwolf. Yours.” Cregan said, rounding the bed and settling back at your side. “A protector to be at your side when I cannot. I’ve been training him and he follows commands well already. By the time I leave he should be grown to the size of any regular dog - then at least twice that when I return.” 

While he spoke, the pup sniffed around your bed covers, curiously wandering on unsteady feet. You had to admit, he looked gorgeous, all black fur, with green eyes, and you didn’t doubt he would grow to be a fierce thing. But sometimes that wasn’t always good. 

“Cregan, are you sure about this?” you asked. “It’s… he’s a direwolf, not a dog.” 

“I’m sure,” he said, lending his arm out. The pup stepped closer, licking Cregan’s fingers and settling on its belly with its nose on Cregan’s knee. “They’re our house symbol. The direwolf are as Stark as I am, they know who we are, and they can be as loyal as they are fierce. That’s why I wanted to introduce you before I left. He’s going to be yours, loyal to you.” 

His arm wrapped around your shoulder, and like second nature you made yourself comfortable by his side. The pup shifted too, now his nose was itching closer to you, wanting to know who this new person was. 

“I supposed you ought to tell me what I'm going to be calling him then.”

“You can call him anything you like,” Cregan said, “But I’ve been calling him Striker.”

Five months passed, and Cregan was right. You were never without anything to do. 

The babe growing inside you made mornings rough, and you often weren’t seen before noon, especially in the earlier months. The rest of your day was spent catching up on what you’d missed while resting, and then catching up on what you missed while catching up. Then the evenings were spent with Striker. 

He had grown on you, just as he had grown physically. Cregan was still able to lift the wolf when he left, but now you doubted it. He was already well on his way to rivalling a regular wolf in size. Despite how intimidating that might’ve been, you couldn’t be more fond of Striker even if you tried. 

Your belly swelled, and with it so did the direwolf’s protectiveness. Your handmaids were tolerated, your guards struggled to be in the same room, and when the maesters dared tough you Striker had to be sent out of the room. Walks around Winterfell were soon out of the question, at least if you were to bring the direwolf along, since he took to growling at everyone who stood too close. 

Cregan really picked well, Striker surely was serving his purpose, and soon he earned his namesake. 

Word came from Castle Black that Cregan was going to return, that the Winter had been fended off once more. That brought joy foremost to you, but really all in Winterfell knew what that meant, even if Westeros didn’t. It was cause for celebration when they returned. 

It also gave a false sense of security. Winter was gone, and so was the evil - but evil didn’t just come from the north. It could come from anywhere. 

You’d settled into bed for the night, Striker laid beside you, head facing towards the door, and your hand rested on his flank as you looked over one last paper. He growled, and you petted his fur, silently reassuring him that it was just a guard passing outside - but then his head lifted, and turned toward your window. His sudden, still alertness put you on edge. 

He’d been hostile before, but this was aggressive. 

Candle flames flickered, Striker’s fur stood on end beneath your palm, the latch on your window clicked open, creaked open, and you could hear your heartbeat in your ears. A cloaked figure slipped into your room, and you couldn’t even bring yourself to cry for help - nor to remember anything Cregan had taught you. But you didn’t have to.

The figure, a man, unsheathed a knife, and with the glint of steel in the candlelight Striker struck. He surged off the bed with a vicious bark and bit into the man’s arm, snarling all the while and all but went to tearing the man to shreds. 

The commotion had people coming in through the door, and the sight had you still rendered motionless and speechless. 

The man’s cloak was torn away, and by now he was pinned to the floor, blood pooling on the stone as he fruitlessly tried to get Striker off him. You barely registered your guard, Gunther, asking you what was happening.

“He came in the window. He had a knife.” was all you could say. You could guess he was saying things to calm you down as he pried your fingers off your bedsheets that covered your swollen belly - he was probably trying to get you out of the room so you didn’t see the mess. It was too late for that. The man was a whimpering, bloodied mess on the floor by now, and no one had yet been brave enough to pry Striker’s jaw off his shoulder. 

Gunther had an arm around you with your hand in his, guiding you away. Others attempted to move closer, either to help the man or take him away - but Striker was still growling. 

“Striker, here.” you called, just finding your voice enough for it to carry over the commotion. The direwolf looked up, and seeing you being led away, he relented, fitting into your side with ease. 

The three of you walked away. Now you were away from the scene you could think again and guess you were going down the hall to another room, one you decided you’d stay in until Cregan returned. 

You looked down at Striker, threading your fingers though the fur at his neck. 

“Good boy.” you said, stroking between his ears. 

“He sure is, my lady.” Gunther said, “Who knows what could’ve happened if he didn’t act so fast.” 

You smiled a little at that, at how right Cregan was in leaving the direwolf for you. He was meant to be company, a protector second - but tonight he proved to be as good, as loyal as any of your guards. He proved to be the real sigil of House Stark - just as Cregan told you he was. 

You reached the door of your new room, and as your hand lifted off Striker’s back you noticed it chill with the cold night air. Turning your palm over, you saw red - and Striker’s nose made home in your fingers, licking away every drop as if it wasn’t ever there to begin with.

A week later, Cregan returned. 

You had been in a foul mood for the past three days, since the maester had put you on strict bed rest because of the babe. Therefore you had been deemed unfit to greet your husband at the gate as he finally came home. In your defense, it definitely seemed like a good reason to be sour. 

So you waited, sat on a chaise, with Striker’s head in your lap pressed to your stomach. 

You could hear a commotion outsider, which only made your face scrunch in annoyance - not just at missing out but also at the pity looked you knew your handmaiden would be giving you. She offered to go fetch Cregan, and you nodded her leave with a wave of your hand. 

“He will be here soon.” you said, cradling Striker’s muzzle in your palms. 

“Indeed he will.” Cregan said. 

“Oh, Lord Stark!” your handmaid said, startled. Your head turned, and you saw him standing in the doorway. 

“Cregan!” you said, grin covering your face - and even after such a long time away, Striker seemed to recognize him, for he didn’t growl, and his tail started thumping against the rug. 

“My love,” he said, shedding his great sword carelessly, and sunk to the floor beside where you sat. You heard your handmaid mumble a goodbye before stepping out and closing the door behind you. “Are you alright?” 

“I couldn’t be better now.” you replied, feeling tears welling in your eyes as you took in your husband's face for the first time in months. He looked tired, older, but as you took his face in your hands his cheeks felt exactly the same as they were when he left. “I missed you so much.” 

“I heard about what happened the other night. I -” he said, mouth hanging open in what could’ve been shock, in his eyes there could’ve been anger. Vengeance would do nothing now, the man was dead, he bled out before anyone could decide to give him mercy - undeserved or otherwise. But as Cregan leant forward to hold you into his arms, his warmth felt like nothing else except fear. “I can’t believe I could’ve lost you.” 

“You didn’t.” you said, taking an arm away from being wrapped around his shoulders to pull his face away from your chest. “You provided the means for me to stay safe long before you left. Striker was better than any guard. He was fearless when I was frozen. I owe him my life, all because of you.” 

Cregan’s face turned soft, and he smiled at you. He leant forward and kissed you. For the first time in too long, his lips move against yours. You felt his jaw move beneath your palm as his fingers grazed your neck and held onto your hip. When he pulled away, he kept your head cradled close to his. 

“I love you.” he said. 

“I love you too.” you replied, and he smiled, pressing another kiss to your lips, then your cheek. 

“Now tell me all about how my little girl is growing.”

[rose24207]

[ ] Mafia lando being so in love with his girlfriend and he keeps buying the reader things and once when there somewhere for a dinner while reader is in the bathroom a group of girls gossip about how they see this all the time, where the guy is interested for a while until they find someone new. It bothers the reader into thinking Lando's going to leave her soon or find someone else, so she starts rejecting his gifts slowly, and after a while, he starts noticing and does something about it.

More than enough

Summary: After overhearing gossip that shakes your confidence in your relationship, you begin to pull away from Lando, only for him to confront your fears head-on and prove his unwavering love and commitment.

Genre: Mafia!Lando

TW: Mafia, gossip

A/N: Thank you for the request!! I hope you like it!! English is not my first language. I hope you enjoy it though! Requests are open and welcome!

Masterlist

Lando Norris was a man of indulgence, accustomed to getting what he wanted when he wanted it. As the head of a powerful Mafia empire, no expense was too great, no luxury too extravagant. But with you, his girlfriend, it wasn’t just about indulgence—it was about adoration. You were his weakness, the one thing in his world he couldn’t control but never wanted to.

From the moment he first set his eyes on you, Lando had been utterly captivated. You weren’t like the other people who circled him, vying for his attention or favor. You didn’t flinch in his presence, didn’t cower under his sharp gaze. You treated him like a man, not a king. That alone made him fall hard.

It wasn’t long before Lando began spoiling you endlessly. Jewelry, designer clothes, luxury handbags, trips to private islands—nothing was too much. If he caught you admiring something for even a second, it would show up in your hands the next day, often in every color. At first, you were overwhelmed by his generosity, but over time, you grew used to it, accepting that it was his way of showing love.

However, things changed one evening.

You and Lando were having dinner at an exclusive restaurant in the city, the kind of place where cameras weren’t allowed and everyone spoke in hushed tones. He had pulled every string to get a last-minute reservation, wanting to treat you to a night out.

“I’ll be back in a minute,” you told him, excusing yourself to the restroom. He smiled at you, his eyes warm with affection.

As you approached the restroom, the low hum of conversation caught your attention. A group of well-dressed women were seated nearby, their heads bent together as they whispered conspiratorially.

“I’ve seen this so many times,” one of them said, her tone laced with disdain.

“Me too,” another chimed in. “The guy lavishes his girlfriend with gifts, takes her out to fancy dinners, acts all smitten... until someone new catches his eye.”

“It’s always the same,” the first woman continued. “These men get bored. They find someone younger, prettier, or just different. And the poor girl is left wondering what went wrong.”

Their laughter rang out softly, but it echoed in your mind like a warning bell. You felt your stomach twist uncomfortably, their words planting seeds of doubt you hadn’t known were there.

Was that what this was? A phase for Lando? A passing infatuation before he inevitably moved on to someone else?

You pushed the thought aside, shaking your head. Lando wasn’t like that. He loved you—or at least, he said he did. But the doubts clung to you like shadows as you returned to your seat, your smile faltering just enough for Lando to notice.

In the days that followed, the gossip haunted you. You began to scrutinize every aspect of your relationship, searching for cracks that might confirm your fears. And slowly, you started rejecting his gifts.

When he presented you with a new diamond necklace, you smiled and thanked him but didn’t put it on. When he offered to take you on a weekend trip to the south of France, you claimed you were too busy.

At first, Lando didn’t think much of it. You had always been modest, occasionally hesitant to accept his extravagance. But as the rejections became more frequent, he couldn’t ignore the pattern.

One evening, he handed you a small box wrapped in elegant paper. Inside was a bracelet made of delicate rose gold links, each adorned with a tiny sapphire.

“Lando, it’s beautiful,” you said softly, placing the box back on the table. “But you don’t need to keep buying me things.”

His brows furrowed slightly, his green eyes narrowing. “I know I don’t need to. I *want* to.”

You forced a smile. “I know, but it’s too much. I don’t need all of this.”

His jaw tightened, but he said nothing, merely nodding as he leaned back in his chair.

It wasn’t like you to pull away from him, to reject his gifts or his gestures of affection. Lando knew something was wrong, but you weren’t telling him. That alone drove him mad.

In his world, secrets were dangerous. They led to betrayal, to death. He couldn’t stand the idea that you were keeping something from him, especially when you were the one person he trusted unconditionally.

One evening, he decided enough was enough.

Lando waited until you were both at home, the atmosphere quiet and intimate. You were curled up on the couch with a book, and he sat beside you, watching you for a moment before speaking.

“You’ve been distant,” he said bluntly.

You looked up, startled. “What?”

“You’ve been distant,” he repeated, his voice calm but firm. “You’re pulling away from me. Rejecting the things I give you, the time I want to spend with you. Why?”

You swallowed hard, his intense gaze making it impossible to look away. “I’m not pulling away.”

“Don’t lie to me,” he said, his tone sharp enough to make you flinch.

Tears pricked at your eyes, but you blinked them away. “It’s just... I’ve been thinking.”

“About what?”

You hesitated, your hands trembling slightly. “About us. About how long this will last.”

His expression darkened, his eyes narrowing. “What the hell are you talking about?”

You took a deep breath, your voice shaking as you spoke. “I overheard some women at the restaurant. They said men like you... they act all smitten, buy their girlfriends gifts, but then they get bored and move on to someone else.”

The silence that followed was suffocating. Lando stared at you, his jaw clenched, his fists tightening at his sides.

“You think I’m going to leave you?” he asked, his voice dangerously quiet.

“I don’t know,” you admitted, tears streaming down your face now. “I just... I don’t want to get used to this, to you, only to have it taken away.”

Lando stood abruptly, pacing the room like a predator cornered. When he finally stopped, he knelt in front of you, taking your hands in his.

“Listen to me,” he said, his voice steady but filled with an intensity that made your heart race. “I don’t know what kind of men those women have dealt with, but I’m not them. I don’t do temporary. I don’t do fleeting. When I want something—when I want someone—I keep them.”

You looked at him, searching his eyes for any hint of insincerity, but there was none.

“I love you,” he continued, his grip on your hands tightening. “I don’t care what anyone else thinks or says. You’re mine, and I’m not going anywhere. Ever.”

His words hit you like a wave, washing away the doubts and fears that had been eating at you.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, your voice breaking. “I didn’t mean to doubt you. I just...”

He pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly. “Don’t apologize. Just don’t pull away from me again. I can’t stand it.”

From that day forward, the tension between you dissolved. Lando continued to spoil you, but now you accepted his gifts with an open heart, knowing they came from a place of love, not obligation. And while the doubts lingered faintly in the back of your mind, you reminded yourself that Lando wasn’t like anyone else.

Because in his world, when Lando Norris said you were his, he meant it.

Thank you for reading!

[headkiss]

heyyy, how are you?? i love your work so much!!! i was wondering if you could write something about steve having a crush on r, but when they are together he gest shy and quiet and r misunderstands that and thinks he doesn't like her like everyone is telling her he is ???

im sorry if its confusing, english is not my first language,, anywayy feel free to change anything !!! ❤️

hi baby thank you so much!!! i’m so sorry this has been in my asks since september but i hope u enjoy all the same :,) i finally wrote something!!! yay!!! | 0.7k teeny tiny angst and fluff!!

You’re pretty sure Steve Harrington doesn’t like you. That’s what you tell Robin when you see her at the Family Video counter, alone for once. She bursts out laughing.

“I’m being serious!”

Before Robin responds, Steve walks out of the back room, grinning that grin you wish you didn’t love so much, his hair a little messy, like he didn’t have enough time to style it this morning the way he usually does.

He’s looking at Robin when he says: “what’s so funny?”

“I bet you’d love to know, dingus.” She nods at you and shrugs, “it’s girl stuff.”

It’s only then that he notices you’re there, his eyes flicking over your face quickly, his head ripping in a small nod. You might not have noticed it if you weren’t looking right at him already.

“Oh, right.” He smiles again, tight-lipped this time. “Hey.”

“Hi, Steve.”

“Hey,” he says again.

Yeah, you’re pretty sure Steve Harrington doesn’t like you, because this is what happens whenever you’re around. He goes quiet, awkward, where others have always found him outgoing and kind.

You suppose it only makes things worse when you want him to like you so bad. If only as a friend, even.

“Um, I was just grabbing…” You flounder before picking up a random movie by the front desk, “this.”

“Right,” he scratches the back of his neck as he says it.

Meanwhile Robin’s head is turning to look between the two of you like it’s a tennis match. You widen your eyes at her and she gets the signal, scanning your movie and letting you head out with it when she knows you’ll be returning it before even opening the case.

“You’re such an idiot,” she says to Steve as the door shuts behind you, the bell jingling with your departure.

“Robin-”

“No! You are, Steve. Listen, you know I love you, but she thinks you don’t like her. At all!”

Now, Steve knows that he acts like an absolute dork wherever you’re concerned, but he never wanted you to think that. Never. If anything, he likes you more than he’s ever liked anyone before, and it terrifies him.

Any ounce of the confidence that’s left over from his ‘King Steve’ era seems to evaporate, and the words just don’t come the way they should. But fuck, he didn’t want to hurt you. He’d never want to hurt you.

“Shit,” he runs a hand through his hair, uncaring about how it might look for once.

“Yeah, shit.” Robin nudges her shoulder against his, “she’s still in her car, by the way. Just saying.”

Steve nods, muttering some kind of encouragement for himself under his breath. He pushes his way out the door, picking up his pace to a jog when he hears you start your car.

The knock on your window startles you, surprises you when you look over to find Steve standing out there, the sun a halo around his figure, his Family Video vest just a little crooked.

You shut your car off and roll your window down, squinting up at him, “Steve? Everything okay?”

“I do like you.”

“What?”

His chest is rising and falling quickly, his eyes wide and something like worry looming in them. “I do like you.”

“Steve, did Robin put you up to this? ‘Cause you don’t have to-”

“She didn’t. I promise she didn’t,” he leans down a little, his hands resting on your door. “She told me you thought I didn’t like you and I couldn’t let you leave still thinking that. I like you. A lot.”

You blink up at him, mouth opening and closing, trying to figure out what to say. For so long, you’d been convinced that he wasn’t a fan of yours, and here he is, sincerity written all over his face.

“You never talk to me, I thought-”

“I know. I know and I’m sorry.” Steve hangs his head for a second, inhaling once before looking at you again. “The truth is I, uh, have a crush on you. Probably more than a crush, and I didn’t know what to do with it so I acted like a fucking idiot.”

“You have a crush on me?”

“Yeah, I do. Kind of a big one.”

You can’t fight the smile on your face at that. “I have a crush on you too, Steve.”

It’s the first time you make Steve Harrington blush, the first genuine smile of his that you earn. And it won’t be the last.

[cherriecove]

Fine Line Between Duty and Oaths (Part 8)

Gwayne Hightower x Targ!Reader

Summary: The second born daughter of King Viserys I Targaryen and Queen Aemma is just as brave, beautiful and stubborn as her older sister but cannot deny her growing love for a certain red haired knight who just so happens to be a dear friend's brother. Cherrie's Note: Hi everyone hope you enjoy, please feel free to give any feedback! Masterlist | Previous Part | Next Part

The days after your mother and brother’s funeral were a blur of overwhelming grief, sorrow, and anger. The hollowness left by your mother’s absence weighed down every moment, and the thought of your baby brother, gone so soon after his first breath, only deepened the ache. Yet, alongside the sorrow burned a fierce anger, one you couldn’t contain. It wasn’t directed at the innocent babe, but at your father, King Viserys. His relentless desire for a male heir had cost your mother her life.

The Red Keep, once filled with warmth, now felt cold and oppressive. Every hallway, every room, was haunted by the memory of your mother, her laughter and presence woven into its very walls. But the pain of remembering was laced with bitterness. You couldn't help but think how it was all for nothing. Your father’s obsession had pushed your mother to her limits, and now she was gone. For what? A son, who lived for a mere day?

You found solace in your sister Rhaenyra, the bond between you strengthened by shared grief and a silent understanding. You spent hours together in the godswood, sitting beneath the weirwood tree, its blood-red leaves casting shadows over your faces. Neither of you spoke much at first, the weight of your emotions too heavy for words. But the silence between you was comforting, a reminder that you were not alone in your pain.

"It was all for him," Rhaenyra finally whispered one afternoon, her voice tight with unshed tears. "All because he wanted a son. And now she’s gone."

Your jaw tightened, the anger flaring up again. "She wasn’t just... a vessel," you muttered bitterly. "She was more than that. She deserved better."

A soft rustle of fabric behind you made both of you turn. Alicent Hightower approached cautiously, her face pale but filled with sympathy. She had been your closest friend, and she never neglected your needs. Alicent knelt beside you, her brown eyes soft with compassion as she reached out, taking both your hand and Rhaenyra’s.

"I am so sorry," Alicent whispered, her voice breaking slightly. "I cannot imagine what you must feel, but please, know that I am here. I will always be here."

Rhaenyra’s lips tightened, her anger still too fresh to fully accept the comfort, but she squeezed Alicent’s hand in gratitude nonetheless. You leaned into Alicent’s embrace, allowing yourself a moment of vulnerability as tears welled up in your eyes.

"I just... I can’t understand it," you said quietly, your voice trembling. "Why did it have to come to this? Why wasn’t I enough? Why wasn’t Rhaenyra?"

Alicent’s grip tightened slightly, her voice soft but firm. "You were more than enough. Both of you are more than enough. Your mother knew that. She loved you both so much."

Rhaenyra scoffed, though it was more in pain than dismissal. "Father didn’t. Not until now. All this... all for a son who only lived a day."

Alicent didn’t respond to that. There was nothing to say. The truth of it hung in the air like a sword, sharp and cutting.

Gwayne’s recovery was slow, but steady. You spent countless hours by his bedside, watching as he healed from the injuries inflicted by your uncle Daemon during the tourney. The wound had been deep, and there had been days when you feared he might not recover. But bit by bit, his strength returned. His pale complexion slowly regained colour, and his humour, though weak, began to surface once again.

One evening, as you sat beside him, Gwayne gave you a tired but genuine smile. "You look worse than I do," he teased softly, his voice hoarse but laced with affection.

You managed a small smile in return, though it didn’t reach your eyes. The grief still clung to you, a shadow that refused to lift. "I doubt that," you replied, brushing a hand through his hair. "You’ve looked better."

"Ah, my lady, your words wound me deeper than Daemon’s lance ever could," Gwayne said with a playful groan, wincing as he shifted.

You laughed, a short, dry sound, but the tears quickly followed. Gwayne’s expression softened, and he reached for your hand. "It’s not your fault," he whispered. "None of this is your fault."

His words were a balm to your fractured heart, but they did little to quell the anger that still gnawed at you. "I just... I can’t stop thinking about her. About what she went through. For him."

Gwayne gently pulled you closer, his arms wrapping around you as you rested your head on his chest. "She loved you. Both of you. She wouldn’t want you to carry this weight alone."

You nodded, though the guilt and anger still lingered. But in Gwayne’s arms, you found a moment of peace, however fleeting. It was enough, for now.

In the days that followed, the court shifted around you, and so did your father’s focus. The loss of your mother and the infant prince had shaken him deeply, and though the kingdom still mourned, there was a question that had to be addressed—who would be his heir? With no surviving sons, all eyes turned to Rhaenyra.

The announcement that she would be named heir to the Iron Throne came with both triumph and bittersweet irony. Everything your mother had endured, all the sacrifices made in pursuit of a male heir, only for the throne to go to Rhaenyra—the daughter who had been there all along.

The ceremony was grand, filled with the pageantry expected of such a historic moment. You stood beside Rhaenyra as she knelt before your father, who placed the heavy gold chain and crown upon her head, naming her Princess of Dragonstone and heir to the Seven Kingdoms. The lords and ladies of the realm gathered to swear their fealty to her, though you knew some did so begrudgingly, the age-old preference for a male ruler still lingering in their minds.

Alicent stood nearby, her expression filled with quiet pride as she watched her closest friend take her rightful place. Yet, you couldn’t ignore the tension that still hung in the air. The crown that now sat on Rhaenyra’s head was one your father had long wanted for a son. But the gods had willed it otherwise.

After the oaths were sworn, Rhaenyra caught your gaze, her expression solemn. Despite the pride she undoubtedly felt, the sadness was still there, just beneath the surface. The two of you had been thrust into roles neither of you had expected so soon—heir to the Iron Throne, and the one left to carry the weight of a motherless legacy.

As the court dispersed, Rhaenyra took your hand in hers, squeezing it tightly. "We’ll make her proud," she whispered, her voice steady, though her eyes shone with unshed tears. "No matter what."

You nodded, the grief still heavy in your chest. But you both knew, no matter what the future held, you would face it together. You had Alicent by your side, and Gwayne slowly recovering, but above all, you had each other. Sisters, bound by love, loss, and now—destiny.

[thetempleofthemasaigoddess]

The princess' guard (part 1)

Elrond x body-guard!single mother!reader

A headcanon fic. Minor Gil-GaladxOC. This is part one of two.

*****

🩵 Imagine being a Silvan Elf, protector and good friend of princess Finwiel, daughter of King Oropher and younger sister of crown prince Thranduil. You and the princess have grown up together, and each of you considers the other the sister you never had. You have dedicated your immortal life to protect her from any danger she might encounter, and are ready to give your life for her if so needed.

🩵 The only person you love as much as you love Finwiel is your son, Baranir, who you had as a nubile mother. You and your lover had planned to wed before your child’s birth for his sake, since most Elves find unmarried couples becoming parents unacceptable and the disapproval often extends to the children themselves, but sadly he, a member of Oropher’s Kingsguard, died in battle only a month before you were due. You cried all your tears and mourned him, promising in your heart you would tell Baranir what a wonderful, loving and protective father he would have been, and that even though you had known you were not meant to be together, you would always remember him, and be grateful for the invaluable gift he gave you. 

🩵 This is your life; a naturally protective Elf, proficient in the use of both sword and bow but more used to remaining in the shadows and striking without the enemy knowing you are there than to fighting in the open, you divide your time between your princess and dear friend and your son, making sure they are both safe and, in Baranir’s case, raised with love and care. You doubt you’ll ever get married, both because as a nubile mother many Elves would find you unsuitable as a bride, and because you have never felt the right sort of affection for anyone, and you don’t mind: you are satisfied with your life, taking care of and being loved in return by the two Elves you are closest to in all of Middle Earth, and will happily spend the rest of eternity without a husband by your side. 

🩵 Or so you think.

🩵 One day, an unexpected event comes to disrupt the peace of your daily life: an upset Finwiel tells you her father is planning to marry her to King Gil-Galad of Lindon, with the aim of building a solid alliance between the two realms. Unlike you, the princess does plan on getting married, one day, and on raising a family, and while she knows her duty towards her kingdom and people, the last thing she wants is to be handed over to an Elf she has never even met before, with no regard for her personal feelings or desires, as if she were a horse or a chest full of gold to pay a debt. Gil-Galad is known as powerful and wise King, but very little is known in the Greenwood about his character, since Oropher himself has mainly had an epistolary relationship with his peer and has only met him twice: what if he’s cruel, abusive, the sort of Elf who only considers a wife a mean to an end, to give an heir to his realm and who needs not to be involved in the government of the kingdom? What if he’s simply, like you, the sort of Elf who is content on his own and would only marry her for political reasons, decent enough to treat his bride well and even to ensure she’s content with her new life in Lindon, but unwilling or unable to share his mind and his heart with her, to love, or even just to value, her as she deserves?

🩵 That is a fate you’re determined to avoid. Finwiel is a kind-hearted but clever and wilful Elf, capable of holding her own against even the most obstinate interlocutors and to stand up for what she believes in, but the last thing you, and her brother, want is to see her forced to spend the rest of her eternal life by the side of a husband who will ignore and leave her alone in the best of cases, and outrightly abuse her in the worst. After all, a royal marriage is all but impossible to rescind, at least once it has been consummated, and Finwiel would have no friends at the court of Lindon to support her and defend her interests, apart from you, who are determined to remain by her side once she is wed. You are sure -... almost sure- her father would take her back if she decided to run away and return home, but what would become of her then, a divorced princess with no dowry and made unsuitable as a bride? 

🩵 “I do not like this; we have to find a way to prevent this wedding, at least until we have a better idea of the sort of Elf Gil-Galad is. I will not give my sister’s hand in marriage to a husband who does not deserve her, whatever the price might be.” Thranduil tells you, his expression sombre, the night the three of you have gathered in Finwiel’s quarters to discuss your plan, like a trio of conspirators; he knows breaking a marriage pact that has already been signed could mean exacerbating the already tenuous relations between Lindon and the Greenwood, if not open war, which is something he obviously wants to avoid, but the prince is the only person who loves his sister as much as you do, and her happiness, or at least her safety and well-being, comes before any other interest “If only we had someone trustworthy in Lindon, someone who knew the King and could tell us what sort of Elf he really is, to make sure Finwiel will at least be safe in his court…”

🩵 “I will go.” you decide on impulse, whereupon both prince and princess look at you, flabbergasted. “What?!” “It’s the best course of action for us. I’ll move to Lindon, pretend I’m a wandering soldier looking for a post, and find a way to enlist in the King’s army. You both know there is no one more capable than I am to move in the shadows, waiting for the right moment to pass unnoticed as I do my business in the shadows.” you point out, more sure about your plan the longer you describe it “I can use these same gifts to spy around, and gather information about the King, and then report to the two of you. Your highness, you know no one has at heart the interest of your sister more than I do; if I find out Gil-Galad is cruel, violent, or for any other reason unworthy of her, I will inform you, and then you will decide what to do.”

🩵 Thranduil approves of your plan; Finwiel doesn’t, well aware of the risks it entails. What if you are discovered, and captured? What if Gil-Galad decides to consider you a spy, even though you never meant to do harm to either him or his people? What if he believes Oropher sent you to keep him under surveillance, for some ill intent? He could decide to declare war on the Greenwood, with the terrible consequences for your realm both of you can easily imagine, and even put you to death, which is the very last thing your friend wants. “Whatever danger I may encounter, it is not worth your life, (name); remain here, and you will come with me to Lindon when it is time. Whatever danger or source of unhappiness Gil-Galad may represent, I do not fear him, and with you by my side I know there is no obstacle I cannot overcome.” she tells you with the determination her father so often disapproves of and you admire, like you admire it in her brother, because being raised in the house of Oropher doesn’t encourage one to learn to think with one’s own head, especially in the case of a princess “I will do my duty as a princess, and I will show Gil-Galad that if we cannot at least be friends, I will not allow him to disrespect me in my own court.”

🩵 Your friend is determined not to let you risk your freedom, and even your life, for her sake, but thank Eru you have her brother on your side, and in the end you and Thranduil convince Finwiel to support your plan. You formally ask the King to be allowed to leave the court for a while, vaguely mentioning some family issue you need to take care of as the matter, and you are given permission to depart. The next day, having personally chosen three of the palace guards as new protectors for the princess, to watch over her while you’re away, you pack a small bag, embrace your friend good-bye, and tell Baranir to be brave, because you’re leaving for an adventure.

🩵 The two of you reach the borders of the Greenwood on horseback, your child safely strapped against your chest, and then join a caravan headed to Lindon. You cover the last stretch of your journey on foot, and despite the importance of your mission and the knowledge of the danger you may encounter should the real reason for your presence in the kingdom be discovered, you feel well, with the open sky above your head, the soft soil under your feet, and a gentle breeze caressing your hair and naked skin. Being the princess’ escort, you have lived the greater part of the last centuries at court, never leaving the Greenwood’s borders; you hadn’t realised how much you had missed travelling, sleeping in a tent under the stars and waking up to a different landscape every day, and you are happy your child can share that experience with you. At dusk, when you rest together after a long day of travelling, you sit with Baranir, bathing and playing with him; your child is almost old enough to start talking and walking, and every moment you spend together fills your heart with joy and love.

🩵 On a cold but clear afternoon, you finally get in sight of Lindon’s palace; the travellers you have crossed paths with were few and far between, and most of them paid no attention to you, until a chestnut horse comes to flank you, his rider offering a polite greeting. “Hello. Are you going to the citadel?” “I am. Is this not the way?” “It is, but at this pace you will not reach it before the end of the day, and a woman with a child alone should not sleep in the open by herself, no matter how safe this kingdom is. Would you allow me to accompany the two of you to your destination? My horse can easily carry all three.”

🩵 Your first impulse is to -gently- refuse, thanking the stranger for his concern, but when you tell him that both you and your son are used to sleep in the open, he points out that the cloudy sky above your heads suggests an approaching thunderstorm, and he doubts the tent he can see hanging from your pack will protect you from the pouring rain. “I know you have no reason to trust me, since we have never met, but I promise I mean you no harm. My name is Elrond, I am the King’s herald.”

🩵 It’s your first conversation with a Lindon Elf, and you have already found a person close to the King! Eru seems to be smiling at you, you think with satisfaction as, almost instinctively, you find yourself returning the smile your new acquaintance -Elrond- is offering you; he’s very handsome, you have to admit, and he actually seems to be well-intentioned as he offers you and your child his help. “Forgive my suspiciousness; I tend to be distrustful when my child’s safety is at stake.” you explain “But I will be very grateful for your assistance, my lord.”

🩵 Elrond insists that there is no need for titles; you introduce yourself, and a moment later you’re riding on the back of his horse, trotting gracefully along the path. “Do you have family at the citadel? Maybe… your husband?” Elrond asks after a while. “I do not, unfortunately; and I have never been married, since my lover died in battle before he could meet his child.” you explain sadly, the pain of loss still heavy on your heart a full year after Baranir’s father died, and you can see Elrond blush with embarrassment. “(name), I… I am so sorry. Forgive me, I did not mean to… I should not have asked…”

🩵 “It is alright; you could not know.” you reassure him. You are pretty sure Elrond simply meant to make conversation, as it is normal for two people who have just met, and he seems genuinely sorry for his involuntary lack of tact; what’s more, his expression betrays no disapproval over your status as a nubile mother, which you can’t help but appreciate “I have no friends or family in this kingdom; I am looking for a fresh start, since most Elves in my old village did not approve of my being a mother but not a wife.” You tell him of your desire to find work, ideally as a member of the citadel guard, and Elrond, who is acquainted with the corps’ captain, promises to introduce you. “That is very kind; thank you.” you say, sincerely touched. “Do not thank me; everyone deserves a fresh start, and if you are worthy of being part of our citadel guard, It will be better for all of us.”

🩵 You keep making small talk, unexpectedly at ease with each other despite your brief acquaintance, until you reach the citadel, which is as great and splendid as you had heard; Finwiel would enjoy living here, you think as you discreetly look all around you. Having entrusted his horse to a groom, Elrond accompanies you to the barracks, to introduce you to the captain of the guard; they accept to put you to the test, tomorrow morning since the hour is late, and to house you and Baranir at the barracks for the night, since you have nowhere else to go and as Elrond had predicted, heavy rain has started falling on the citadel.

🩵 You thank Elrond profusely for his help, promising you won’t forget it, and he assures you he was glad he could be of assistance. “Good luck for tomorrow; I am sure you will do splendidly.” he adds; Baranir, who seems to have already taken a liking to your new acquaintance, waves his arms towards Elrond, who in turns takes the child’s tiny hand in his one to shake it gently. “Glad to have met you, young master Baranir. Please let your mother sleep tonight, she needs rest.” You share a smile, and a moment later Elrond has taken his leave. That night, as you lie on your newly-assigned cot with your baby peacefully sleeping on your chest, the soft breathing of the guards surrounding you in the pitch dark dormitory, you think back to Elrond, an Elf who offered you his help when nothing obliged him to, out of simple and pure concern for your, and your child’s, well-being. Given his position at court, you could find a way to be introduced to the King through him, but it’s not just that: he was kind, sincerely kind, even after learning of your status as a nubile mother, which is more than you can say for many Elves of the Greenwood, and which does him credit. 

🩵 You didn’t come to Lindon on vacation, nor you plan to remain there for more than a few weeks, or longer than it takes you to accomplish your mission; nevertheless, you think as you finally start to succumb to sleep, you really hope you can get to know Elrond better, and who knows, in case Finwiel does move to the kingdom to wed the King, and you with her, the two of you might even become friends… 

🩵 Your admission test takes place on the next morning, when the captain asks you to spar with two of their guards in the still damp courtyard outside the barracks. It’s been a long time since you were part of your kingdom’s guards corps, which you left after being chosen as the princess’ new protector, but in the meantime you have regularly sparred with the Prince, the mightiest warriors of the kingdom and one of the best in all Elvendom, and you’re proud to say you have at least not lost your edge, not to mention your swordsmanship style is different from the one the Lindon guards are used to. Once the captain is satisfied with your performance, you have a brief interview, during which you tell them you come from another kingdom you know Lindon is in peace but not closely allied with, so that your claims can’t be easily disproved, and then you’re finally offered a spot among the citadel’s guards, which you gratefully, and with great relief, accept.

🩵 You meet Elrond a few hours later, at the end of your first patrol duty; he has heard you were accepted in the corps, and came to congratulate you. He first of all asks about your child, who you have brought to the court’s nursery, where, you were told, the children of the guards and other workers of the court are taken care of while their parents are busy. “I knew you could do it. I hope you will be happy living here, (name); has the King sent for you already?” he asks, and you, who had suddenly noticed how bright his smile is, and how lovely he looks in his cerulean cape and tunic, blink, taken aback. “W-what? Why should he…?” You panic, for a moment convinced your ruse has already been discovered, and that Gil-Galad wants to question you regarding the reason for your presence in Lindon, but Elrond is quick to reassure you. The King, he explains, wants to meet every new member of both the citadel’s guards or his personal troop, convinced as he is that any commander should know the soldiers under his charge, and any sovereign the Elves tasked with his protection and defence. “You have nothing to worry about; it is going to be a very simple interview, he will ask your name and little more, but Gil-Galad can be… intimidating for those who have never met him before. I am sure you would have been fine anyway, but I thought I better warn you.”

🩵 A meeting with the King, no matter how brief and formal, is exactly what you needed, and you make sure to thank Elrond, who once again went out of his way to support you, even though he’s probably busier than many in the citadel with his own affairs. You wish each other a good day and part, neither noticing how the other’s gaze lingers on you as you walk in opposite directions.

🩵 The audience Elrond had forewarned you about takes place that very day, as soon as you have completed your chores for the day; a servant accompanies you to the throne room, and soon you find yourself face to face -only for a moment, before you rush to bow as low as you can- with the High King Gil-Galad, princess Finwiel’s future husband. Your first impression is positive: the King is a very handsome Elf, tall and broad-shouldered, the features of his fair face both elegant and masculine, his hair an ebony black waterfall that reaches down to his waist. He asks about you, and the perspective of having an Elf hailing from a distant kingdom, not to mention a nubile mother, doesn’t seem to bother him; after a brief interview, you are dismissed, free to go retrieve your child from the nursery, and spend a few precious minutes playing with him and reflecting on the events of the day. 

🩵 And so, your life as the newest member of Lindon’s citadel guard begins, an existence quite different from the one you were used to but to which you adapt fairly quickly. Your duties occupy the better part of your day; you do your best to prove yourself to your new comrades, and while some of them treat you with cold courtesy, if not outright hostility, because of your status as a foreigner, others offer you the hand of friendship and help you to acclimate. Baranir, you’re happy to notice, doesn’t seem to be affected by the change of scenery, even though he’s probably old enough to notice you have come to live in a different place, away from the other children he was used to play with, and from the princess, who he considered almost a second mother. The ladies who run the citadel’s nursery seem capable and affectionate, even though the matron openly sneers at you when you tell her -in response to her question, but openly and truthfully, since it’s a matter you never thought you had reason to feel shame about- that no, your husband can’t look after your child because he’s busy with his own trade, you simply never had one. Baranir looks well-cared for, clean and fed, and in a good mood when you go pick him up at the end of your work day, and this is what matters the most. 

🩵 Settling down in a place and a life different from those one has known all their life is not always easy, but you haven’t forgotten your mission, and the need to learn as much as you can about the court of Lindon and its king. Sadly you have no more reason, or occasion, to meet Gil-Galad after your first interview, but you start lingering in the kitchens at the end of your patrol shifts and whenever you have a few hours to yourself and, as you hold Baranir -whose adorable little face and friendly disposition easily win the affection of whoever meets him, which in turn makes it easier for you to get acquainted with them; you should perhaps feel guilty, using your child for your own purposes, but it’s not like he’s in danger or mistreated in any way! Quite the contrary, Baranir is probably the most pampered child in the citadel- to feed or play with him, you try making friends with the servants of the court, who often know more about their masters than they suspect. Apart from the occasional complain about his fastidiousness regarding his food and wardrobe, Gil-Galad has the respect and even the love of his personnel; he’s known as a strict but not cruel master, and his valet, whose confidence you are able to earn offering him a few rounds at the tavern while his wife plays with your baby, assures you he can even be forgiving, in the case of an honest mistake and sincere apology, which is more than you can say for King Oropher, who is known for dismissing servants who have served him a different quality of Dorwinion from the one he had ordered at dinner, or who had pulled his hair as they brushed it.   

🩵 Even more interestingly, you soon learn the King has been alone for most of the long centuries of his reign. Many are the ladies who compete for his favour, not to mention the remote chance to wear his ring and share his throne, but the King, while courteous and occasionally even affable in social situations, seems mostly uninterested in the fairer sex, and doesn’t seem to feel the need for a lover, whatever their gender, by his side. He is not known for having had any romantic relationship, either personal or formal, since his accession to the throne. His duties as a King leave him very little time to devote to personal interests, be it a hunt in the woods surrounding the citadel, a ride with his prized horse or the company of a lover, but whether that state of celibacy is due to simple lack of time and energy, or of interest towards the many ladies, and lords, who would be thrilled to receive the King’s attention, his valet admits he has no idea, since Gil-Galad is not the sort of master who discusses his personal matters with his servants, whether because he is interested in their opinion or simply prefers to think out loud. Who knows, perhaps he had his heart broken by someone long ago, and was never able, or willing, to love again…

🩵 His soldiers have an equally positive opinion on the King, who is the sort of general who commands his troops from the front line rather than from the back, which is something you can’t help but appreciate, being a guard yourself. At night, once your baby is safely tucked in his little cot near your bed in the barracks, you slip unseen through the court’s corridors and halls, listening to conversations and observing the lords and ladies of Lindon go about their business, seal trade agreement and marriage pacts, exchange swords over some perceived offence, or gossip about the recent rumour of the engagement between the King and the princess of the Greenwood. You don’t like snooping around, rather you can’t help feeling guilty about spying and sticking your nose into the business of Elves who, for the most part, welcomed you and your child among them and who in any case are entitled to their privacy. But there is only so much you can learn about the court of Lindon hearing it directly from the people involved, and nothing in the whole of Arda apart from your child is more important for you than Finwiel’s safety. She wouldn’t be the first consort killed not long after the wedding because her new subjects would have rather seen someone else on the throne, and you’d be willing to give your life to defend her: your honour is a heavy but comparatively little price to pay to know your princess will be happy, or at least safe, in her new home, should she actually marry Gil-Galad.

🩵 Fortunately you don’t catch wind of anything more interesting, or upsetting, than an upcoming rising of the price of silver, which will surely be cause of worry for the citadel’s jewelsmiths and traders, and gossips about two of the courtiers, both married, who have been caught in an highly compromising position in a storage room. While you’re careful not to lower your guard, the relatively positive results of your investigation leave you in a good enough disposition to enjoy the company of the friends you have made since your arrival in Lindon… Elrond first among them.

🩵 You never thought you’d see him again, and often and long enough to give the two of you the chance to get to know each other, but you were wrong, and what a happy mistake it was! You know King Oropher’s herald and his speechwriter both, and neither would lower themselves to spend time with a lowly guard, but Elrond is different - in truth he is unlike any other Elf you have ever met, and you have to admit you are almost immediately taken with him, perhaps since your very first meeting, when he saw a woman with a child walking alone and decided he had the duty to help and protect them, and you can’t help but appreciate his kindness, intelligence and wit. You can only imagine how busy he is, but he always seems to find a moment to come and talk to you, those meetings brief at first, as if Elrond feared bothering you and then, as he realised you are always happy to see him, lasting longer and longer. 

🩵 You could spend hours just talking, sharing a cup of tea or a late dinner in the kitchens after you returned from a patrol shift and Elrond finally completed his many duties for the day. Elrond is a constant source of interesting tales, the sort of person who can both enchant his interlocutor with his narration and listen intently as if he had never heard anything so captivating. You have known each other for a relatively short time when he tells you about his family, a more delicate and tragic tale than it is for most Elves, given the loss of both his parents and his brother, who chose the mortal life of Men and consequently died long ago. Rather than the resentment and bitterness you would probably feel in his place, Elrond is able to think back fondly to both Elros and his parents, remember the happy moments they spent together without letting the pain of their loss influence and forbid him from being happy again; his quiet, resilient strength of character is something you can’t help admiring, and being fascinated by.

🩵 In turn, you tell him about your lover. Mindful of his previous blunder, Elrond clearly avoids asking about Baranir’s origins, but you feel comfortable discussing that delicate matter with him, more than you’ve ever been with anyone apart from Finwiel. Already aware he’s going to listen without judging or reproaching you, you tell him of how you cared for your child’s father but were not in love with him, and of how you don’t regret having been intimate with him, no matter how your own family and so many others shunned you after your pregnancy became visible and you found yourself raising your child as a nubile mother after your lover’s death. Elrond doesn’t blame you for your life choices, both because he feels he has no right to and because he sincerely believes you have done nothing wrong; he admires the effort you put in raising Baranir, how you dedicate your little free time to him and never complain when he is fussy or keeps you awake for his crying. He is unsure when you offer him to hold your son, fearing Baranir could slip from his grasp and fall, but the child, who has clearly taken a shine to your friend, happily snuggles against his chest, either resting his tiny head on Elrond’s shoulder or playing with his hair. Your child is an excellent judge of character, and seeing Elrond play with him, or just lulling Baranir to sleep to give you a moment of respite, fills your heart with warmth. 

🩵 Elrond looks nothing like your former lover, nor physically nor temperamentally, but as you see your friend and your child together, at ease with each other as if they were kin, or even father and son, you can’t help wishing things were different, that Baranir had an adar who would raise and play with him. You wonder if Elrond, who confessed he had never had any experience with children before he was introduced to yours, plans on having one of his own one day; if so, that little Elf will be the luckiest in Middle Earth, and even though Elrond told you he’s not courting anyone at the moment, the person he will give his heart to will be exceptionally blessed as well. The hours you spend by his side are the happiest of your days, and the simple prospect of meeting him, even if just for a cup of tea in his quarters or a brief walk in the gardens after dinner, is enough to put you in good spirits.

🩵 Feeling more than a bit guilty even though you don’t mean any harm, you take advantage of your familiarity with Elrond to ask him about the King, who your friend is closer to than most Elves at court, one evening you’re enjoying the quiet of the gardens with Baranir sleeping in your arms. Elrond is at first willing to indulge you, but after a while he looks at you, his smile suddenly not reaching his eyes. “Why are you asking me about the King? Are you… in love with him, perhaps?” he asks, his tone only apparently humorous, and you remain silent for a moment, suddenly ill at ease as you regret your curiosity. “No, I… I am just curious; I am a newcomer in this kingdom, and I simply wanted to know more about the Elf I have sworn fealty to, just as he requested to meet me after I had joined the guards corps.” you awkwardly try to explain. Fortunately, Elrond seems to believe your lie; you see his tense posture relax and a sigh, you could swear of relief, escape his lips, but he avoids your gaze for a moment more. “Forgive me; that was puerile of me, and anyone in your place would be curious about their new sovereign.” he murmurs in the end, and he feels wistful, even… saddened, for a reason you can’t begin to understand.

🩵 “Elrond, if I said something to… upset you…” “You did not; you did nothing wrong, (name), and I… I should go, I have so many duties to attend to.” And with this Elrond stands, gently brushes his fingers against Baranir’s hair, bows his head towards you and walks away, leaving you alone, unsure, and feeling vaguely guilty for some reason you can’t quite understand. Have your questions made Elrond suspect you have harmful intentions towards the King, which is the most disastrous outcome you can imagine, given the fact he is one of the Elves closest to Gil-Galad and his suspicions could be enough to have you thrown in jail if not worse? You don’t think so; but then, why was he so upset? Did you say or do something to sadden or anger him? But how? You would readily apologise, if you only knew what you did wrong!

🩵 You keep mulling over the matter for a while, until an accident occurs. You’ve recently completed a training session with a few other guards, mostly those you are less acquainted with, and as you walk back to the barracks, you hear them make disparaging comments towards Elrond. “He’s not even a real Elf, I don’t know why the King has such a good opinion of him!” “Exactly! He’s no better than a common Man, I am sure he got his role by the side of the King offering favours, you know well what I mean…” 

🩵 The worst thing for an Elf in your position would be to cause disruption and to be involved in a scuffle, with the potential consequences of both alienating potential informants and of attracting attention to themselves, but you don’t hesitate before turning and ordering Elrond’s detractors to hold their tongue, or... “Or what? You will make us?” “I will; and I will tell the King what you said about him and his herald, I’m sure he will be pleased…” The other guards try to ensure your silence, not apologising and asking for it, which might have helped their cause, but threatening you, which certainly doesn’t; they end up assaulting you, three against one, and while you defend yourself valiantly and land a few punches of your own, you’re soon overwhelmed. You drag yourself to the infirmary, collapsing on the threshold before the attendants have the time to come grab you. 

🩵 When you wake up you’re lying on a cot in the infirmary, with Elrond sitting by your side, Baranir on his lap. “Good morning; or maybe I should say good evening, given the hour.” he greets you, his smile betraying the worry and guilt in his eyes “How are you feeling?” You feel like what you are, that is, the victim of a beatdown, with a few bruises and localised pains that have not had the time to heal yet, but you feel better as soon as Elrond offers you your child, who happily greets you with a kiss on the cheek. “The nurses were willing to keep him for the night, but I thought you would want to see him as soon as you awoke, I hope you do not mind if they left him in my care.” You assure him you don’t, since there is no one in the whole of Lindon you would more readily entrust your child to, and Baranir has clearly taken a shine to Elrond. “Thank you for taking care of him.” you tell him, and Elrond smiles before biting his lip, suddenly unsure.

🩵 “The guards who hit you confessed, and… they also said why; (name), I am so sorry, I never wanted you to get hurt because of me…” “Well, I am not sorry; I… do not want to go into detail, but those three deserved to be punished for what they said about you; no one can talk ill of a person I care for, in my presence, and not suffer the consequences.” you tell him firmly “Elrond… is this a common occurrence? You should tell someone; the King should be informed.” Your friend shakes his head, his fair face a picture of ruefulness and resignation you would give your life to see disappear. “I imagine those guards were making fun of me because of my Half-Elf origins, and saying I am unworthy of living among Elves and of having a role at court; I am used to it, (name), and I do not intend to go complain like a child whose older sibling is mistreating them. It would solve nothing… but I am thankful for your intervention; you did not have to.” You tell him that again, you don’t regret what you did, and are ready to do it again should the need present itself; you don’t mind getting hurt to defend what you believe in, especially since, Elrond tells you, the captain has had your assailants punished, but not you since you had the right to defend yourself. 

🩵 You share a smile; Elrond takes your hand to help you rise from the bed, and holds it a moment longer than he needs to. You don’t talk, but whatever problem or tension existed between you is resolved, your friendship peaceful and solid once more, and for that reason, you reflect as you accompany Elrond -and Baranir, held safely in your arms- to the kitchens for a late dinner, you’d be willing allow every member of the citadel guard to punch you in the face.

🩵 Time passes. Your and Finwiel exchange letters, yours addressed to another name and using a coded language in case they are intercepted and read before the carrier bird reaches the Greenwood, and before you realise you have been in Lindon for two months; you meet Elrond almost every day, and spend as much time as you can snooping around to make sure the kingdom will be a suitable home for your princess. One evening, the captain hands out the patrol duties for the following week, and you see that you’ve been granted a full free day, a rare treat for a guard. You plan on spending it with your child, who you have seen less than you wished to recently given how busy you were, maybe even take advantage of the time at your disposal to cut his hair -for the first time in his life!- or sew him a new shirt, but Elrond proposes the two of you go for a ride together, staying out for a few hours and even bringing some food to eat during your outing, and you’re immediately enthusiastic. You know Baranir’s needs should come before anything else, but you can leave him at the nursery like you do every time you need to go on patrol or to train with the other guards, and after two months you have spent focused on your mission and on your duties as a soldier you do feel the need for some time for yourself, leaving the safe but restricting borders of the citadel and enjoying your friend’s company without the anxiety of having to be somewhere else, to do something else, soon.

🩵 You depart in the morning, soon after you have promised Baranir you’ll be back soon, and entrusted him to the nursery’s matron, who is clearly unhappy to have to take him in her arms, but you pay her no mind. Elrond is clearly happy you have accepted his invitation, and has asked the cooks to prepare your favourite foods to take with you in a basket. You spend a lovely day together, riding, having lunch sitting on the grass in a small clearing, and then even swimming in a small lake you have found having made a detour from the itinerary Elrond had planned. Finally, you rest lying on the grass, the sun’s warmth drying your bodies, and neither feels the need to speak, not even to say how well you feel, or how happy you are to be together; a shared look is enough for both to understand you feel the same. 

🩵 You close your eyes, dozing off as you wonder whether it would be too forward to ask Elrond to repeat the experience the next time you have a day to yourself, and then a moment later you're fully awake again, and the sun is no longer the only thing warming you. Moving silently to close the brief space between you, Elrond has approached and is now holding you in his arms, his hands resting on your hips, his face so close to your own you can almost share your breath. “Is this alright?” Elrond asks quietly, marginally releasing his embrace to make it clear he doesn't mean to make you uncomfortable; you smile as you cautiously turn, finding the perfect position to rest your cheek against his shoulder and return his embrace, feeling Elrond’s firm and warm body in your arms. You had never noticed how good he smelled, and how bright his eyes really are…

🩵 “This is perfect.” you murmur; you hadn't expected anything like this, especially since you have known each other only for a few short weeks and no one better than you knows the risks of entering into a courtship, or becoming intimate with a partner, before one is sure of their feelings. But Elrond… Elrond is different, he is special, and the feeling of being so close to him, sharing your warmth with his in the chaste, pure intimacy of your embrace, heals wounds you didn’t know you were still carrying, and opens your eyes to a possibility you had started losing hope still existed in your future. While you could wage your life Elrond’s intentions are pure, you may discover you want different things, and the fact he gets along with Baranir doesn’t automatically mean he’s willing to be the father of a child he didn’t help conceive, not to mention that should the marriage pact between the princess and the King fail, you’re duty-bound to return to the Greenwood, to keep watching over Finwiel. Also, even the kindest, most patient suitor could resent the fact that you have been lying to everyone you met, including him, since your arrival, regarding your purposes and reasons for travelling to Lindon…

🩵 “I am very glad I met you.” you murmur after a while, and Elrond smiles before kissing your brow. “Shall we remain like this for a while?” “I’d really like that.”

🩵 In the end you do share your first, sweet kiss before starting on the way home. You have just reached your horses, who have been grazing peacefully nearby while the two of you cuddled, oblivious to the rest of the world, and Elrond has offered you his hands to help you mount - which you are perfectly capable of doing on your own, but his genuine desire to help you, the instinct to be of service devoid of condescension or hope for a reward, is something you haven’t experienced often before, and it fills your heart with a tenderness you can’t help but express, resting your hand on the back of Elrond’s head… drawing closer… and finally resting your lips on his. It’s brief, relatively innocent, but intense enough to make both of you tremble, and to test your self-control to the point you need to force yourself to break the kiss and take a step back. 

🩵 “I'm sorry.” you murmur, well aware of how furiously you are blushing, and Elrond simply smiles in return, shakes his head, and offers you his hand once more to help you mount your horse. You take your time riding back to the citadel, and once the imposing profile of the palace stands out against the horizon, shrouded in the encroaching darkness, you sigh to yourself, disappointed that your and Elrond's time together has come to an end even though you have spent the better part of your day with him. “May I come with you to take Baranir from the nursery?” your friend asks, and you happily accept, glad that he and your child have also become fond of each other. You reach the nursery, walking close enough your hands brush against each other, and you expect to find the matron, or a couple of the nurses, taking care of the children…

🩵 But they aren’t; the spacious room is completely empty and dark, empty save for Baranir, who is crying inconsolably in a tiny pen, naked save for his nappy, the stench making it clear he hasn’t been changed in hours. “What is happening? Where is everyone?” you ask as you take your child in your arms, horrified as you realise that he hasn’t been fed, and that given the red mark on his cheek, he’s probably been slapped as well “Why in Manwë’s name was my son left here alone and uncared for?!” Elrond has no idea, obviously, but offers to go search for the nurses while you take of Baranir; you nod mutely, grateful for the help but unable to focus on anything that is not the crying, hungry child in your arms.

🩵 You quickly change your baby’s diaper, dispose of the dirty one, and prepare a meal with the supplies you find in the nursery’s tiny kitchen. “It’s alright, my love; your nana is here now, and no one will hurt you anymore.” you try to comfort him, holding him close to your chest, and finally Baranir’s heartbreaking sobbing calms down. Beyond the slap his soft cheek must have received -by whom? You don’t know, but as soon as you find out the Elf responsible will ruin the day they were begotten, and not even the whole Lindon army will stop you from tearing them to shreds!- he’s fortunately unscathed, but you don’t even want to think about what could have happened if he had remained alone through the night, not on a comfortable bed but in that tiny pen without even a pillow or a blanket. Where in Mordor are the nurses?!

🩵 Your child, clean and fed and reassured, has finally fallen asleep when Elrond returns, dark in the face, accompanied by one of the kitchen maids who, your friend explains, has offered to stay with Baranir while you’re away. “She has four children of her own; she has promised to guard him well.” Elrond explains, while the maid, who you know as a decent, kind individual, nods “(name), you should come; we have found the matron.”

🩵 You meet the Elf responsible for the safety of your son, and of so many other children of the citadel, in the kitchen, where the captain of the guards has summoned her from her room. Backed into a corner, forced to either confess or spend the next months in the citadel jails, the matron confesses she had deliberately left poor little Baranir alone, out of spite for you, your condition of nubile mother and, today specifically, your decision of entrusting your child to the nursery even though, she had been informed, you had a free day. Since today there were, unusually, no other children to be cared for at the nursery, and she and the others would have been free to go home if it weren’t for him, the matron had decided Baranir deserved to pay for his mother’s sins; she was convinced you would not come pick him up before tomorrow morning, and that therefore she had all the time to make sure her misdeeds would not be discovered. So she dismissed her assistants, promising she would remain with the child, and then left him alone. She also confesses, defiant as if she actually considered herself innocent of any guilt, of the many times she had deliberately postponed or failed to take care of your son when he needed her, feeding or changing or simply comforting him when he got scared or woke up from a nightmare, and even that -the most terrible thing of all- that slap whose signs you had noticed on Baranir’s cheek was not the first your poor baby had endured ever since he was admitted to the nursery. 

🩵 You have known anger, rage, and even fury in your life, but nothing compares to the feeling of burning hate and desire for revenge -not to mention guilt- that has filled your fëa as you listened to the sins of the Elf-woman in front of you; you are furious to the point you wish you could kill her with a look, and since you can’t, you quickly act. “You bitch!” you scream, a word you had never uttered in your centuries-long life, and you pounce on her, punch her in the face with all your strength, and keep hitting her once you have thrown her to the floor while the matron, who obviously has no way to react, tries desperately to defend herself “You could have killed him! You did not dare confront me, and you picked on a defenceless child? You monster! I am going to kill you!” 

🩵 The captain, parent of three children, observes the scene without intervening, while Elrond struggles to separate you and your victim. He begs you to stop, because while he understands your anger, private violence is not the proper way to seek justice. “I do not care!” you scream “And I would not even if the King threw her to prison for the rest of eternity! I am going to kill her, she deserves it…!” In the end other Elves intervene to separate the two of you; the matron, still defiant despite her bruised face -and given the way she breathes, you might have broken one of her ribs or two- is led away, first to the healers and then to her room, to remain there until her punishment will be decided. “You better go back to your child, (name); you are excused from your duties for tomorrow morning, since I am sure the King will ask for you.” he captain says, and you nod brusquely before setting out towards the nursery. Elrond follows you, but he remains silent until you have taken back your child and dismissed the maid, with your thanks. 

🩵 “(name), I am sorry.” he murmurs, his lovely dark eyes full of pain and guilt “It is all my fault; if I had not insisted we spent the day together, Baranir would be…” You assure him he has no fault, since he couldn’t have known, and sadly the abuse had been going on longer than a single day, even though your child’s sunny disposition and good health had hidden it. “I need to go now.” you murmur. Baranir is safe in your arms, fast asleep, but you can’t forget what he must have gone through, and what could have happened had you, by complete accident, not noticed what was happening; perhaps you never will “Forgive me, Elrond, but… I need some time with him.” Your friend nods. “Will I see you tomorrow?” he asks tentatively, as if actually fearing a negative answer, and the sight breaks your heart. “Of course; I really enjoyed our day together, whatever happened after.” you reassure him “And I would like to do it again; now I have to focus on my child, but I do not regret accepting your offer, and you really have no fault.” Reassured, Elrond bids you goodnight, and chastely kisses your cheek before departing.

🩵 You’re able to resist until you’ve reached the barracks, and then your self-control crumbles. Silent tears fall down your cheek as you prepare your sleeping child for the night and then put him not in his cot but in yours, so as to watch over him like you haven’t done until now. “Forgive me, my little darling… your nana loves you so much, and she is so sorry she could not protect you…” you murmur, kissing his brow and soft cheek, and you feel unworthy even of that, like an Elf who has committed a heinous crime would consider themselves undeserving of sailing to Valinor. Your child is safe now, yes, alive and not seriously hurt, but who can say what lasting damage this terrible experience may have had on his still fragile mind? Two months of abuse… you really wish Elrond had let you punish the matron as she deserves, but in your heart you know the real culprit for what happened, the one who should be blamed, is you.

🩵 How could you not see it? This is the question you keep asking yourself as you take your boots and tunic off, lay down next to Baranir and cover you both with a blanket. You spend most of your time free from your duties with him, and all your acquaintances, including other parents and even those who disapprove of your state as a nubile parent, have always considered you a doting mother, devoted to her child; during your pregnancy, you even asked a friend of yours, a nurse, for permission to accompany her during her rounds in order to better learn to care for your child and to know what to do in case they got hurt or fell sick. But then why didn’t you realise your son was being mistreated? You’ve never noticed bruises or other signs on his little body when you bathed or changed him, and never woke up because he was crying from a nightmare. Is Baranir so brave and resilient, at his tender age, to withstand all the mistreatments he was subjected to without betraying any distress? Granted, your child can’t yet speak beyond nana and puppy -he likes dogs, your little darling- so it’s not like he attempted to tell you what was happening to him and you ignored him for whatever reason, but you are his mother! You have taken care of him, practically alone, since the moment he came out of your body and you would gladly give your life for him if need be. Shouldn’t you have felt it, somehow? Perceived, in the same way a warrior realises danger approaches unseen, that something was not right? 

🩵 Maybe you should have, but you didn’t, and this is what you’ll never forgive yourself for. Baranir is a happy child, usually cheerful, but maybe he did show signs of his distress, signs you failed to catch because you were too occupied with something else. After all, you’ve spent the last two months twice as busy as you normally are, caught between your duties as a guard and your secret mission, and that left you so little time for yourself. Can it be that, too occupied as you were with other matters, you ended up neglecting your son? You couldn’t avoid going on patrol and spending hours on the training grounds -or could you? Was presenting yourself as a soldier looking for a post really the best option to explain your presence in Lindon, or could you have concocted another plan that left you more time to yourself, and for your duties as a mother?- but you have to admit, work is not all you have devoted your time to since you’ve arrived in the kingdom…

🩵 There’s Elrond, who almost without realising you have come to meet almost every day, and not rarely without your child as a chaperon. Now those were hours, and a full day today!, that you could, and should, have spent focusing on Baranir, rather than on a friend. How could you be so dumb - no, worse, so selfish as to neglect a creature so fragile and tiny, who had literally no one else to care for him in the whole kingdom, to spend hours walking in the gardens, or sharing a drink in the kitchens? Today was your first day of freedom in two months, and did you devote a part of it to Baranir, playing with him and teaching him to walk and speak? No! You went out with your friend, leaving your poor baby in the clutches of an Elf who would not look out of place as Melkor’s lieutenant! What could have happened if after your kiss, you and Elrond had decided to spend the night together? A child of Baranir’s age still needs to be watched over at night; left for so many hours alone in that tiny pen, there is no way to know what could have happened…

🩵 The fault is yours and all yours. The matron failed her duties tremendously, there is no doubt about that, but at the same time, you had perceived she disliked you because of your being unmarried; how could you not at least suspect she would not pay Baranir the same attention as the other children, the attention he so needed? Has this happened back in your home in the Greenwood as well? Did any of the nurses who routinely took care of your son while you were busy protecting the princess neglect your son because they disapproved of you, and wanted him to pay the price? Maybe your first mistake was bringing Baranir with you in Lindon; you thought the best place for him was with you, and that leaving him behind for a period of weeks or months would have been unbearable for you and harmful for him, but the princess had proposed to take of him personally in your absence, and since no one loves your child as much as Finwiel does apart for you, you are certain he would have been safe, looked after, and raised lovingly. You took your child away from his home, from his friends, to then neglect him in favour of a new friend. How could you be so cruel? You don’t deserve motherhood; you don’t deserve anything. 

[loganwritesprobably]

I Can't Do This Anymore

Inspired by some chatting about Shanks I was doing with @fanaticsnail and @maritimebird

Content/Warnings: Shanks/GN!Reader, breaking up, arguing, hurt/no comfort, Shanks is characterised as a bad guy/ kind of toxic

Four years. Four entire years of your life dedicated to Red Haired Shanks. He was globally revered and respected, considered one of the strongest of a generation, a real contender for Pirate King as an apprentice and honorary son of Gol D. Roger. He was also a scumbag. It seemed like you were the only person who knew that, though, and frankly you were ashamed it'd taken you this long.

You'd woken up today feeling stronger than you had in ages, and when you sat for breakfast alone once again, you knew it was over. You were already gone, you'd emotionally left your partnership months ago, you'd just been hanging on for the sake of nostalgia, because of the man he'd been at first, who you'd wanted him to be. Who he hadn't been in a long time. Plus, you were finally coming up on an island and the Red Force would be docking, so you'd be able to completely leave Shanks, the ship and the crew. A clean break.

He wouldn't wake up for hours, you knew that now. No matter how many times you'd told him it would be nice to spend the morning together, to be quietly present for each other when you first woke up, he never stirred til after noon. It was because of his drinking of course, and you knew that, but he wouldn't cut back on that either. Why would he do that?

You left the kitchen before Lucky had even finished preparing breakfast with just a slice of toast in hand. You didn't feel like food this morning.

You sat on the deck with Beckman while he smoked, and you explained to him what you were about to do. He accepted it, had even seen it coming, and agreed to help you leave without Shanks clinging on or lingering on the island to try to make you come back.

When Shanks finally emerged after lunch had already been served, you headed to take a shower while Yassop and Hongo helped to pack up your stuff from Shanks' room, wanting to cause as little suspicion as possible.

Freshly washed, in the perfect outfit for the occasion which made you feel confident, you returned to the deck. Shanks sat with Beck, one smoking and the other drinking, idle chatter occasionally passing between them.

"Shanks, I need to talk to you." You said, interrupting whatever they'd been speaking about. "Sorry doll, I was just chatting with Beck, can you give me ten mi-" "No. I can't. This is more important." You said, voice firm, expression stony. "Oh c'mon just a few-" "No Shanks. Not this time. We can have this conversation here and now if you really want, I don't care, but it might be better for your ego to go somewhere more private." You said, and Benn awkwardly scratched the back of his neck, clearly wishing he was anywhere but there. "Go on then, gorgeous, what's up?" He asked, taking zero regard for your serious tone or the look on your face. Of course he didn't, nothing ruffled the feathers of Red Haired Shanks.

"You are, you overgrown child," you hissed, surprised as the words came out of your mouth, you'd been intending on separating peacefully but clearly that wasn't going to be happening, "I am sick of you, and your bullshit Shanks! This? Us? It's over, I'm done. I'm getting off at the next island, and I'm not coming back." Shanks paused, looking temporarily confused, before a smile came back over his face and it made your blood boil. "Oh c'mon, is this cause I missed breakfast? You know I try, I just don't do mornings. I'll try again tomorrow." You'd never wanted to strike someone more. "I don't know why I bothered even trying to have a conversation - I can't even have a damn argument with you! I'm fucking leaving, you cannot grin and laugh your way through or away from that. I'm leaving this ship, this crew - I'm leaving you." You couldn't stop your anger from pouring out in your words, your hands slightly trembling from the rage coursing through you. "That feels like a bit of a rush decision, love, are you sure you've really thought about that?" Shanks replied, now looking concerned for you, as if you were experiencing some sort of meltdown.

"Oh- I've never been so fucking angry. Rush? I've been planning on leaving you for months! I'm so tired of the way you treat me, Shanks. You treat me like I - and frankly like nothing else - matters! You can't just laugh and shrug all your problems away, and ignore my attempts to communicate and tell you when there's a problem in our relationship. I have dedicated four years of my life to you, and most of those years were spent being delusional and convincing myself that it wasn't that bad, and I just had to remember how could things could be. But they never went back to being that good. I'm not even sure they were that good to begin with, you just charmed me with your words." It was a lot to scream at someone in public, knowing the crew had all stopped what they were doing to listen to you, to witness what would happen when you raised your voice at the Captain like that. "There's no need to yell doll, c'mon. This should be private." You couldn't believe him. A wave of unstable, humourless laughter overcame you that you couldn't help releasing, and Benn eyed you warily. "Oh you are so lucky you're stronger than me, because if I thought I had any sort of chance, I'd attack you." You told him, still laughing just a little. It was a cruel sort of power imbalance between you really. "Is that a threat?" Shanks asked, and you pinched the bridge of your nose, the humour passing and being replaced by just.. exhaustion.

"Benn, my stuff is all packed, I'm going to go sit with it until we dock and then I'm gone." You said to the first mate before turning on your heel to walk away. "Where are you going? Are you seriously just walking away from me like that?" Shanks yelled after you, standing from his chair. "Yes! That's exactly what I just told you I was doing!" You replied, but you didn't turn to look back at him, just continued on your way.

When you docked, Shanks appeared to have disappeared. You hauled your stuff from the ship, and hugged the crew goodbye. It wasn't fair that you'd lose your friends just because you'd split with Shanks, but that was just the way of things. They were his men, not yours. You sat on top of a crate, rubbing hands over your face as you shoved down the rising tide of emotion in your chest.

"Hey," Benn said, stepping up to stand beside you, "if you ever need anything.. I mean it anything, just call." He said, handing you two pieces of paper. One piece held the number for his den den, while the other was blank - his vivre card. "Thank you." You said emphatically, and then he walked away, back to the crew.

You sat there, just observing, as the crew ran to quickly board their ship with their small restock, and undocked from the port, Shanks stood on the deck observing you.

The red force sailed away, and you heaved a deep sigh of relief. You finally felt like you could breathe again.

Tags: @claryeverlarkf @uselessboots @cainnoable

[gffa]

Do you have any Sith!Obi-Wan fics you can recommend? 🙏

Hi! You can do a search for Sith Obi-Wan in my bookmarks which brings up several or you can start with the novel-length ones that still live rent-free in my head even years after I've read them: Equinox by lilyconrad, obi-wan/anakin, NSFW, 95.9k During the Clone Wars, Obi-Wan and Anakin crash on a remote planet and take shelter in the ruins of a grand estate only to find they are not alone. This fic was written for me, so I'm biased, but it's genuinely my favorite for the trope because Lily put all this thought into the undercurrents going on between the characters, because it gives such care about why any version of Obi-Wan would fall to the dark and what he would be like, because each chapter had moments of foreshadowing and care given to lush, beautiful descriptions and the creeping dread of the place. It's a gorgeous fic and I think even if someone doesn't usually like Sith versions of the characters, the way this one does it (created reflections, not that our characters are falling, so it's scratching the itch of how it's an extension of our characters, but our characters are not on that exact path), I would gently suggest this one.

Lex Talionis by intermundia, obi-wan/anakin & cast, NSFW, 187.1k Or, how Obi-Wan and Anakin fell to the dark side, obtained their revenge, and saved the galaxy in the process. My other favorite Sith Obi-Wan fic, this one is about how these characters fall to the dark, and the author takes his time with how it happens step by step, but also how these massive, galaxy-spanning changes happen, how it's a combination of how sexy the dark side can be but also how awful it can be, how much pain and hurt it can cause. There's so much care and effort put into this story, it spans such a huge story, that it's one of those fics I want to physically print out in special binding because it deserves to be a pretty set on my bookshelf.

wicked thing by imaginarykat, obi-wan/anakin & cast, NSFW, 124.2k the story of how Anakin exists in a perpetual state of intense embarrassment, Kenobi is enjoying it a little too much, and everything is, generally speaking, a gigantic mess. This is an AU where Obi-Wan never trained Anakin and is already a Sith when we meet him, and there's a reason it's one of the most famous fics in the fandom, because it is the most charismatic thing I've just about ever read, the sheer amount of dark side sexy charm coming off Obi-Wan is incredible, the tension between him and Anakin is delicious, and the writing/plotting of the storyline is superb. I could not put this fic down when I read it, there's a reason this fic helped really popularize the trope, because it's just so goddamned addicting and glorious to read.

Soldier, Poet, King by Glare, obi-wan/anakin & cast, NSFW, time travel, 106.4k wip Second chances are very rarely given, but the Force smiles upon two of its favorite children and returns them to a time before their actions have met their consequences. Anakin Skywalker, also known as Darth Vader, seeks redemption while Obi-Wan “Ben” Kenobi, disillusioned with the Jedi Order and its Code, falls to the Darkness. Trapped out of time, Master and Apprentice must once again work together to stop Sideous’ plans from reaching fruition and bring Balance to the Force—all the while dodging the Jedi, the Sith, and their feelings for each other. I think this might even have been the first Sith!Obi-Wan fic that I read and I know it remains dear to me because I reread it a year or two ago and got sucked in just as hard as before. Obi-Wan is dropped back into his younger body, feels like the whole thing is a bunch of bullshit, gets sucked into dark thoughts, and just goes full dark side dom on Anakin and fixing the galaxy through machinations and foreknowledge. It's so fun and it does such great service to Anakin's level of power, that this guy is an absolute dragon in the Force, but that he also very much wants Obi-Wan's hand on the back of his neck to force him to kneel to the one person he loves. Hnngggg, it really cemented me as a fan of this trope because of how well it scratches the sexy dark side dom/sub while they're both badass dynamic, I love it so much.

I'm still making my way through a lot of Star Wars fic, so if anyone has any more recs, feel free to jump in, especially if you have some gen ones, since I mostly read pairing fic for Sith!Obi-Wan (because I'm personally after the sexy dom/sub dynamic with it)!

[celtigxr]

THE PINK DREAD - CH. 25 (Masterlist)

Chapter Summary:Daemon and Alicent try to give Valeana advice. Spoiler: she does not listen to either of them. Word Count: 5464 CHAPTER WARNINGS: AnnoyingUncle!Daemon. I only proof read this chapter once, so there's probably going to be more spelling/grammatical errors than usual.

Series tags: Aemond x Plus size!OfC, Aegon x Plus size!OfC, Celtigar!ofc, Plot with Smut, mdni 18+, Aemond End Game, Angst, Comedy, The Dragons Don't Dance, slow burn, friends to enemies to lovers, enemies to friends to lovers.

Credits: Lace Banner by Aquazero, pearl divider by Pommecita

Notes: I'm going through a lapse in muse lately, but I'm trying, really. So updates will be weekly, or every ten days depending on how things go.

Daemon Targaryen was hit with an overwhelming sense of nostalgia at the sight before him. If he squinted, it would have been like staring into a window that framed the past. Perhaps the gods did have a sense of humour, because the parallels were just too perfect. 

Aemond and Daemon.

Valeana and Lysa. 

She was nearly the spitting image of her mother, had she had Lysa’s slimmer frame and wheat coloured hair. Daemon only met Valeana a few times, maybe less, though he never had a good look at her. She was younger than she was now, more fuller in figure, ashen from the lack of sun. He didn’t see Lysa in her until the day he returned to King’s Landing. 

“We were just having a reprieve from the ball,” the girl answered, sending a quick look at Aemond, who looked as if Daemon insulted his mother. 

Daemon wanted to laugh at her answer, “I can see that. You two look quite reprieved indeed.” 

Aemond’s nostrils flared, “What are you doing here, uncle?”

That had to be the first time Aemond Targaryen had ever spoken directly to him. They never met, not formally at least. Daemon was too busy in the Stepstones and then in Pentos to even look upon him as a child, let alone as an adult. 

“For the same reason,” Daemon replied coolly, still leaning against the archway at the foot of the stairs. “A reprieve from the ball.” 

“Then we shall leave you to your peace, Prince Daemon,” Valeana rubs her hands together before putting something into her skirt pocket. “Prince Aemond?”

The one-eyed prince didn’t say anything, just kept his eye on Daemon, waiting for the slightest movement to give him reason to lunge at him like a guard dog. He made a low growling sound in agreement, his elbow extending for Valeana to take. When her arm wove through it, Daemon immediately saw the way his nephew’s shoulders broadened, as if he had just won a great prize. 

“And where are you two intending to go?” 

Aemond stiffly turned to Valeana, his jaw taut with irritation and impatience. Perhaps it came with age, or because he was a father of two girls, but nothing was more amusing to Daemon than cockblocking young men that were keen on debasing a woman’s skirts (as ironic as that was). It was especially entertaining that it was his green nephew, sired by that snake of a woman. 

“To retire,” Aemond bit out his reply. 

“Is that what the kids call it these days?” 

“Oh, gods,” Valeana bowed her forehead into Aemond’s shoulder before forcing herself to look at Daemon. “Aemond is just going to escort me back to my apartments. Nothing untoward, Prince Daemon.” 

“Was ‘nothing untoward’ going to happen in this cellar had I not interrupted?” He didn’t give them room to reply as he sauntered closer to the couple. “Need I remind you, Lady Valeana, that you have an agreement with my step-son, the heir to the heir. You are supposed to be courting him.” 

She glared up at him shamelessly, just like Lyra used to do when no one was looking.

Daemon tutted, “Your father would be greatly disappointed in you when I tell him where his daughter was, and with whom. I dare say, ol’ Barty might go ahead and take away his promise of choice.”

He was sickly satisfied at her reaction. Caught between her anger and her fear of her father. Valeana leaned into Aemond’s arm once again, who in turn pulled her closer, all the while keeping his eye trained on his uncle. If Daemon was a sentimental man with a soft heart like his brother, he might have cooed at the lovers and let them go on their merry way. 

But he wasn’t; he was far more ambitious than he was empathetic. Even if the two mirrored his past so symbiotically, he almost wished he hadn’t interrupted just so he could bear witness to that treasured memory in real time. 

“I’ll escort Lady Valeana back, nephew,” Daemon continued before he did get sentimental. “It is just as well; your mother has been asking for your whereabouts. Something about a Baratheon girl.” 

Aemond’s lip thinned just before he made a threatening step forward, only to get held back by the ivory anchor at his arm. 

“Aemond,” she said softly. The younger prince looked down at her, the muscles in his jaw relaxing. “My father cannot know.”

He considered her words for a moment before nodding stiffly, “I will call on you.” Aemond’s hand hovered over her cheek, only stopping when he re-remembered that they now had an audience of one. He ended up letting his hand fall to his side, and giving her one last look before turning around to give his uncle one last glare. Keeping eye contact, Aemond strode by him, shoulder nearly checking him from the sheer proximity. 

Daemon’s smug smile did not wipe from his face as he nephew passed by him and bounded up the stairs two steps at a time. He hummed his amusement, and then brought his attention back to Valeana, who stood with her arms crossed, and green eyes venomous and lethal. 

He just smiled at her, irking her even more. 

“My Lady,” he offered her his elbow. 

Grumbling, she walked by him, marching up the stairs, muttering about how her mother should have slapped him harder. Daemon simply followed after her, keeping her in his crosshairs and ensuring she didn’t flee after her lover. 

Once they were in the corridors above, Daemon easily caught her stride, “The apple does not fall far from the tree, I see.”

His comment earned him a confused glance, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Formalities already forgotten. Perhaps the apple did fall farther from the tree, but he blamed that on her hot Valyrian blood. “Lysa Lannister also coveted the affection of royal blood. How far down are you planning to go? Should I worry for Lucerys or little Joffrey?” 

If eyes could slap someone, that’s exactly what she did to him, “You know nothing of my mother, and if you do not wish to feel another bite of a bejeweled slap across your cheek, I suggest you keep her name out of your mouth.” 

If Daemon was any other man, he would have bristled at her words, but instead he just laughed; louder than a hummed chuckle, softer than a loud guffaw. His hand went to his cheek, reciting the twenty-five year old memory in his mind. 

“I still have a scar from that, just above my left eye.”

“I can assure you that I can continue where my mother left off.” 

He peered at her interestingly; she was bristly walking, trying to keep a foot ahead of him, but failed miserably.  He was much taller than her, making his long languid strides match her pace with ease. 

“I would watch your tongue if I were you, Lady Valeana. One day I will be your king.” 

“Consort,” she shot him a look over her shoulder.

That wiped the smile off his face. His tongue rolled around in his mouth, a bitter taste of the truth that the closest way for him to reach the Throne is by being a consort to his niece. Not even his own sons would inherit it. Daemon had half a mind to slap the Celtigar girl across her face for reminding him of his place. 

He didn’t, for the sake of his wife. For the sake of his brother. For the sake of Lysa’s ghost. 

“I know plenty about Lysa,” Daemon’s voice was low as he acknowledged her previous statement. “More than your father. Certainly more than you.” 

“You’re assuming my knowledge of the woman who sacrificed her body and soul for me? My father has told me everything about her; he wanted me to know her as if I had personal memories of her.”

“Lysa lived in the Keep years before she started courting your father, or even met him,” his lips were in a thin line, eyes forward as they made it to Maegor’s Holdfast. “There are things that Lord Bartimos was not privy to, and I daresay he would not wish to know if presented with the option.” 

Her brow was still furrowed in indignation, but his words casted a frown upon her face. He could see it in her profile, the thoughts rolling around in her head like a collection of marbles. 

“What things?” 

“In another life, Lady Valeana, you and Clement would have been my children,” his confession startled her enough to falter her step and whip her head in his direction. “Had it not been for my grandmother’s insistence on marrying me to the Bronze Bitch, and your mother’s relentless stubborn devotion to Aemma Arryn.” 

Alysanne’s marriage arrangement with Daemon and Rhea Royce was politically sound from an objective point of view. Rhea was set to inherit her own title in Runestone, Daemon was third in line and effectively not set to inherit anything. This would have given him land and title, and would turn the second most powerful family of the Vale into a Targaryen dynasty. Lysa Lannister wasn’t to inherit anything, but she was the only female Lannister born in generations, until Jason’s daughters. She had a hefty dowry that could buy land if he so chose. But that was not the reason he wished for her hand, oh no. 

Daemon was absolutely obsessed with Lysa Lannister. She captivated him as much as she infuriated him, and the truth was he didn’t have an answer as to why that was. 

Turning to her, he allowed himself to openly examine Valeana’s features, grasping onto all the similarities, and ignoring the Valyrian attributes she inherited from her father. Peridot eyes and all. 

“Your mother refused to marry, not until Aemma died. She refused every eligible lord and knight in the Seven Kingdoms, claiming that her duty as the Queen Consort’s Lady-In-Waiting was more important than being a wife and mother. And for some reason, when she did decide to become one, she chose your father over everyone else.” 

Over me. 

Valeana let out a long groan, instantly reading into the subtext of Daemon’s little diatribe of being rejected by her mother. This isn’t the first time she has heard a lord tell her about how he tried to woo her mother only to be jilted politely in preference of being perpetually unwed – until Bartimos Celtigar came in with his jewels and his gold. 

“Prince Daemon, I am already juggling three princes, I do not need another, especially someone who is married, and so old—”

“I’m not old–” He instantly snapped back, but quickly switched off his offended tone. “And if I wanted you as my bride, I would not have wedded Leana. Your father would have no qualms betrothing you to me if I had asked–”

“I was five!”

“And that would have not mattered after ten years— what am I even bloody talking about?”

“How you wanted to wed me when I was five!”

“I did not– Hmm,” His hand swept over his face in frustration, a barely contained growl muffled in his palm. “You are more infuriating than your mother.” 

“Then why did you want her in the first place?” Valeana stopped walking when they reached her floor. Her family’s apartments were not long from there, but she did not wish to have Ser Steffon bear witness to this conversation. 

Daemon’s lips pouted in thought, one hand on his hip, the other on the pommel of Dark Sister, always attached to him wherever he went. 

“I wanted her because she infuriated me,” he finally said, voice low. 

Valeana raised her eyebrows, “And she did not want you, because she did not love you. That is why she chose my father.” 

At that, he tilted his head, “You really think your mother loved your father?” When she didn’t answer right away, too long to formulate an answer to what should have been obvious, he continued. “She loved someone else, someone she could not have. That was the real reason she didn’t accept anyone’s proposal. It was not until she could not handle her own loneliness did she decide to finally look for a husband. Your father offered her contentment, a life of comfort and ease, and in the end she chose to settle. That is the truth that your father would not want to hear.”

Valeana was silently digesting, though not entirely freely. He could see the defiance in her eyes, the clear unwillingness to believe a single word coming from his lips. He knew that feeling well, when he saw the truth before him the first time; it tore his innards out like an army of crabs feasting on a corpse on the barren lands of the Stepstones. 

“Trust me when I say this, Lady Valeana. Your mother would’ve wanted you to wed Jacaerys Velaryon. She would’ve wanted you to be the wife of Aemma and Viserys’ grandson.” 

She stared at him long and hard, the crease between her brow never wavering. Her mouth went from a frown to a tight line as she lifted her chin up, very distinctly Lannister in its nature. 

“No,” Valeana shook her head. “You really don’t know my mother, Daemon. She would have wanted me to marry for love, or not at all.”  

Valeana’s morning began blessedly late, as did everyone else’s she’d wager. Fast was broken in silence; Barty and Ursula were hung over, Shyla looked as if she was keeping a secret she did not want to share, Arthor seemed the same way, Clement  scarfed down food as if it would be his last meal, and Floris… Seemed rather content, bizarrely. Especially since Valeana recalled her being contrite for the entirety of the ball. 

It was just as well, Valeana much on her mind. Aemond leased her dreams that night, as well as all the things that could have happened under Balerion’s nose. Some of it didn’t make much sense, but she remembered being nude before him, hiding her intimate parts from him. Then he would respond by undressing himself in front of her, eye patch gone, hair undone, all without shame. Her mind stirred at that point and suddenly she was slimmer, younger, with golden hair instead of silver. Aemond before her had two eyes, shorter hair, youthful, and definitely not himself. 

Then the room filled with salt water, and she was submerged in an ocean, completely alone. Her hands reached out, clawing at the surface as a black mass flew in the sky above. Then… she woke up.

Valeana looked down at her breakfast: eggs, toast, and herb & honeyed bacon. Resting her chin on her fist, she moved the contents around her plate with her fork. Instead of swallowing down food, she tried to swallow down the pit of dread lodged in her throat. 

On the morrow, she will have to spend part of her day with Jacaerys, an obligation that she must entertain. Valeana knew the dark-haired Prince was not what she wanted, even if he could have been worse. He wasn’t that bad when he was a child, unlike his brother, and at the very least he had grown handsome. It still would be a short courtship, no matter how much her father and Daemon wanted it. Val simply could not see herself falling for Jacaerys, even if they had all the time in the world. 

Then there was Aegon, a surprising yet not unwanted addition in her life. But presence simply just makes her life so painfully complicated. His drunken confessions, lewd and scandalous as they were, took root in her privy parts vividly. Valeana never had a voracious appetite for carnal pleasures; she was a maid, whose experience of her own pleasure has always been curious fingers whenever she felt lonely, felt the need for romance that she was convinced was not in her future. Though even before then, she couldn’t deny that his companionship had become a balm in her life recently. What he did for her would not be forgotten, and that made the notion of even tossing him away for Aemond feel traitorous and unfair. Even if their arrangement was constructed with that goal in mind. 

But giving up on Aemond after last night… that felt like she was spitting in the face of the gods themselves. Surely, they were the ones that put them together in the first place, and they had always intended to keep it that way, one way or another. The image of Aemond on his knees, sapphire and amethyst eyes, his hands upon her in desperation, his kisses on her brow and hands, his gentle laughter in her ear… it all pulled on her heartstrings like a lyre. She could not give him up now, now that he was finally back in her arms; now that she found her Aemond.

Her mind also drifted to Daemon, and all the things he said about her mother. Valeana doubted much of what he said, but she also doubted her own confidence in how much she really knew her mother; how much her father knew about her. Val supposed that the only person that would have the answers for her questions was… The King. Of all people alive, he knew her the longest, outside Daemon, who already showed his biases with a decades old grudge over a rejection. There wasn’t even a Lannister relative alive that was old enough to remember Lysa, so Viserys was truly her only option. 

Fitting the Queen for her dress offered Valeana a respite from her thoughts. The distraction was a blessing, now that she was able to concentrate on something more productive than matters of her indecisive heart. Rosy had come with her, her ever faithful assistant to these things. She tended to like doing the more tedious tasks, so Valeana had her cut the scales from the fabric that would cover the skirt of the dress. In the meanwhile, Valeana worked on the bodice, making sure it fit Alicent snugly so that the scales that she planned on sewing would appear more like a second skin rather than fabric. 

“You have quite the eye for detail, Lady Valeana,” Alicent commented as she watched her map out the designs using a chalk pencil. 

Val smiled up at her, a genuine one, despite being marred by stress, “You flatter me, your Grace.” 

Alicent had not been one for conversation ever since Valeana revealed her leg to her. There was a point in which Valeana wondered if she even remembered that she commissioned this dress from her, but her doubts were proven wrong when requests were brought to her by servants inquiring about the progress ever since Alicent returned from Dragonstone. 

There was a beat of silence in the room, the only noise was Rosy’s snipping of scissors and the birds chirping outside the slightly ajar window. Then the Queen broke it after spending several seconds watching Valeana work. 

“May I ask you something, Lady Valeana?”

Val looked up, surprised by the request when she needn’t ask permission. But at the same time she wanted to deny her, because she had a good list of possibilities of what Alicent could possibly ask of her, none of which she had a desire to answer.   

“Of course, your Grace,” Valeana replied anyway. 

“This business with Prince Jacaerys…” She trailed off, eyes flickering to the girl, and then down at her diligent hands as it worked the fabric. Alicent was afraid to tread on these waters, it sounded like. Almost as if she wanted to inch closer to something more delicate, rather than simple curiosity. “Is it something you want?” 

Valeana ran her tongue around her teeth before sucking against them in an attempt to stall. The answer was no, obviously, but she did not know if it would hinder or benefit her if she told Alicent the truth. With the tensions between the greens and blacks, Valeana toed the line between the two families, not knowing what side she should choose.

“It never matters what a daughter wants,” she decided on answering truthfully, without being direct. It didn’t entirely feel safe confiding in a woman who very well may be her political enemy in the future. Or future mother in law. 

Alicent accepted the answer, even hummed in agreement. She allowed the silence to settle for a moment again, but Valeana knew the questions were not over. Eventually, the Queen broke the silence again when she inhaled, the words finally finding her. 

“It came quite a surprise to me and his Grace that upon our return, we learned that our eldest son has been courting you, Lady Valeana.”

There it was, the real thing she wished to talk about. Val hadn’t even thought about what the Queen and King would think about her and Aegon together, if it was something they considered, if it was something they wanted. It would surely benefit the green’s cause, though Valeana suspects that Alicent still wanted Aegon to marry his sister. Which left… Aemond. That was why the Queen had tried to talk her into forgiving Aemond when she first arrived. Gods, how that felt like it was eons ago. 

“It was as much of a surprise to me, your Grace,” Valeana trained her eyes on her work. She felt Alicent was particularly good at gauging someone’s thoughts with just her eyes. They were so large and doe-like, which reminded Val of Aegon, the puppy-dog that he was. “Prince Aegon and I were not exactly friends as children.” 

“Which is why my husband and I thought it a strange development, one that no one foresaw,” Even if there were just the three of them in the room, and Rosy was on the far end, sitting on a settee, Alicent spoke in a little over a whisper. “Whatever did he do for you to overlook his past transgressions?” 

“Well,” Valeana collected her thoughts when she turned away to grab a needle and red thread, “He apologized sincerely, and he also has been nothing but kind, caring, helpful… and eventually affectionate.”

Alicent looked utterly unconvinced. The image that Valeana just wove with her red thread was of a complete stranger that had been calling himself Prince Aegon, playing her for a fool. 

A thin eyebrow was raised at that, “Kind, caring, and helpful?” she repeated the words, foreign descriptors of her eldest son. “Excuse my skepticism, but I’ve only known my son to be the very opposite.”

Valeana shrugged bashfully, “A moon ago I would’ve agreed with you.” She paused briefly in thought, then added: “But if it comforts you to know, your Grace, Prince Aegon is still just as cheeky as a monkey.” 

Alicent smiled in spite of herself, “That is comforting. I was afraid he was swapped with an imposter.”

Val bit her tongue before she could say, “Would that be a bad thing?”

The Queen cleared her throat, the tell tale sign of someone gearing up to say something difficult to say and hear. “I wanted to say, Valeana, that…knowing Aegon, I… I think it is within your best interest to not pursue things further with him.” 

Valeana glanced up at her for a moment, then back at her work. She decided not to say anything just yet. Alicent appeared to have much on her mind, and the younger, subordinate lady didn’t want to appear dismissive over her apparent worries. She was a mother, afterall, even if popular opinion dictated that she put the title of Queen before the other. 

“I will be plain with you. I owe you and your dear late mother that. I watched you grow up since the moment you were born within these very walls, and I would not wish to bear witness to another one of my sons hurting you again.” 

Val’s hands stopped working as she listened to Queen Alicent’s words closely. It was true that she knew the woman since birth, but Valeana had very few fond memories with Alicent. There were few sporadically, but she always seemed to keep Valeana at an arm’s distance, almost like she couldn’t trust her existence. She wasn’t cold, but she wasn’t warm. Not to mention, Valeana still remembered how much she advocated for Aemond not to get punished for what he had done. 

“You feel that he intends to take advantage of me,” it wasn’t a question. Valeana could feel Alicent’s eyes penetrate her profile once she resumed her stitching. 

“You must know it is in his nature to do such a thing,” the woman bowed her chin in an attempt to capture the younger’s eyes. “Aegon has an… appetite for chaos, as much as he has one for drink and pleasures of the flesh. I fear he may be using you as a weapon against Aemond, simply out of entertainment.”

And this is the man you are trying to put a crown on? Another thing Valeana had to bite her tongue for. 

Val forced herself to smile up at her reassuringly, “I’ll take your warning to consideration, your Grace. I only hesitate because he has not shown that unscrupulous side to me. It has only ever been the very opposite.” 

The ends of Alicent’s mouth tightened, but she nodded nonetheless, “I only wish for you to be careful.”

“I will, your Grace. Your concern is appreciated and noted.”

“And–” she inhaled, squaring her shoulders, “I hope that you may extend Aemond the same courtesy of forgiveness as you did Aegon, in time at least.”

The memory of last night was still fresh in her mind, like that blessed dream that had her wake up with damp thighs and a sense of carnal hunger. Her cheeks pinked at the memory of Aemond’s gentle kisses on her palms and head, reverent in contrast to his devouring kisses on her breasts so many nights ago. 

It was hard to stop herself from smiling, and albeit small, Alicent noticed it immediately. 

“My relationship with Aemond is… complicated, your Grace,” Valeana carefully spoke, deciding to tiptoe around the truth. She wasn’t entirely comfortable sharing the breadth of the story just yet. “But… the steps towards reconciliation have taken place.”

“You speak true?” Alicent’s doe eyes glittered hopefully, “When did this take place?”

Valeana bit her lip, an attempt at reigning in her smile from becoming a full grin. She wanted to bury her face in the fabrics of the half-finished gown, embarrassed of the glow upon her face. Alicent was the first person that she had told this to, even a fraction of it. 

“We had a long discussion sometime during the Ball last night,” Val confessed, surprising herself for doing so. “It is still early days, your Grace.”

Alicent’s brow twitched slightly as she tried to recall a moment in which that could have happened at all. There was one when she could not spot Aemond in the crowd, sometime after she had dismissed Valeana to reprimand Aegon for his drunken display. A great, albeit silent sigh caused her shoulders to sag, as if a large weight of stress had been lifted off them. 

“Oh, my dear Valeana, that brings me much happiness,” Alicent pulled her little seamstress to her in a hug. Valeana’s eyes bugged out of her head, body stiff under the embrace of the Queen. “It brings me much peace.”

The rest of the day went by in a blur. After she had finished up with Alicent, she had brought the dress back to her family’s wing to finish a few adjustments. That evening she shared her supper with Ellyn, Wylla, Shyla, Catelyn, and Sharis and Malora Tyrell on the terrace above the training yard. There were men still down there, even when the sun was setting, trying to get as much training done before the beginning of the tourney. The seven girls simply watched in silence, sipping wine and eating grapes and berries. When the wine started to ease their sensibilities, they started to wolf whistle at every man who removed their shirt to combat against the evening humidity. 

Valeana squinted down at the men, not recognizing a single one. One of them walked around languidly with confidence, his brown hair was braided down to the nape of his neck, the sides shaved, giving him a rugged appearance despite his shaven face. His tunic was loose on him, covered in dirt and a bit of blood from the sparring. He was the loudest of them all and the most boisterous when it came to his audience of women that were seated above the yard. He would grin and bow at them after defeating his opponents, blow kisses and throw winks. The Tyrell sisters were absolutely smitten with him. 

“Who is he?” Valeana asked, narrowing her eyes at him. He seemed familiar, but from this height, she could barely make out his face through all the dirt and sweat. She took a sip of her drink in contemplation.

“Dalton Greyjoy.”

And then she spat out her drink. 

While Ellyn, Wylla, and her sister laughed – being the only three people present that knew the lore – Dalton turned to look up at the commotion, his intense steely blues on Valeana in an instant. At the sight of her sinking into her chair like a dying python, he grinned and laughed, giving her a small wave. 

Cat laughed in confusion, “Do the two of you know each other?” 

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Valeana pulled a cushion off the sofa and put it in front of her face. 

Suddenly the girls started to wolf whistle again, and Val – out of morbid curiosity – moved the pillow away from her face to take a look. Dalton had finally pulled off his filthy tunic, exposing his lithe and muscular frame, littered with aged white scars, and black tattoos that she couldn’t quite make out. 

He grinned up at her with that shark grin of his, “What are you lookin’ for, Celtigar?!”

Val’s eyes narrowed annoyingly, then looked over at her sister who was giggling like a maniac. Suddenly numb to her embarrassment, Valeana sat up in her seat and peered down at him over the balustrade in clear distaste. 

“Bruises!” 

He threw his head back and laughed loudly. Then he turned around to face back towards his audience. To her absolute horror, Dalton shimmied down his breeches to expose his pale rear end. 

“All cleared up, I’m afraid!” 

The girls screamed and whistled, and Valeana sank down to the floor, face as red as the crabs that marched across her house’s banners. 

Valeana called it a night shortly after that, dragging a reluctant Shyla with her.  As they got dressed and clambered into their beds, the exhaustion of the last few days slowly seeped into her bones. Shyla was the first to pass out, as usual, but despite her body’s fatigue, Valeana had a difficult time shutting off her mind. Eventually sleep started to creep up on her, with her final thoughts lingering on the wish to not have to bump into Dalton “The Red Arsed” Greyjoy again. 

Just when her mind is pulled under the surface of her subconscious, Valeana could feel a dip in her bed. Too tired physically and mentally react, she simply remains still, trying to cling to sleep, convincing herself she just imagined it. 

“Valeana,” She could hear her name being called next to her ear, but she was convinced it was simply auditory hallucinations produced by exhaustion. 

“Valeana, wake up.” 

She made a loud snore when she inhaled violently, which made the voice chuckle softly next to her. Then, just when she thought the mysterious voice left her, something pinched her nose, causing her to gasp through her mouth and jostle up from her pillow. 

In her delirium, she did not notice anything immediately, not until her eyes focused on the body laying next to her on her bed. Shock jolted her awake immediately, her mouth opened to scream, but a firm hand covered it.

“Sh, sh, sh,” he said, putting a finger to his lips. “It’s just me.” 

Val’s eyes settled into a glare, her lips curling into a snarl when his hand dropped from her mouth. 

“Aegon, I am going to kill you.”

He laughed softly, “All in due time.”

“What are you doing here? How are you here?”

“Get up; put your robe on.” 

She eyed him suspiciously, “...Why?”

“Strap on your peg leg, Crab Cake, and get your pretty little arse out of bed. Then I’ll tell you.” 

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX SNEAK PEAK

He decided to chuckle nervously again, wondering if she was joking, almost praying that she was. “Mayhaps we should call it a night. You are forgetting yourself, Crab Cake.” “I’m not,” was her immediate reply. “I’m… I’m curious. And I want to see… I want to try.”

Notes: So before you ask -- yes, there will be a prequel MINI series about Lysa Lannister, staring our favourite perverted uncle. Won't be out for a while, but you're gonna be seeing the ground work in the next few chapters regarding her mom's past. For those that are waiting on the Fem!Aegon one shot, please be patient with me, I keep on rewriting the last section of it. I'm not super satisfied with it yet. I don't want to give a definitive date, because I don't want to make promises I can't keep.

Tag: @queen-of-elves, @keylin1730, @anakilusmos, @weepingfashionwritingplaid, @sugutoad, @desireangel

( if you wish to be tagged for this story, just give me a reply! )

Please do not re post, redistribute or plagiarize my work. The only other place this story is posted on is ao3 under the same username.

[theladyofbloodshed]

Chapter 34

One more chapter and an epilogue <3 (this is a sad chapter)

The field lay in ruins. Corpses – their own and Hybern’s – were spread across the muddy plain. Arrows jutted from limbs, blood and gore soaked through each court’s uniforms so they were united in a rusty red. The soldiers from Hybern who hadn’t been quick enough to winnow away were being rounded up for questioning.

Azriel would take stock of it later. Would stop and measure the magnitude of what they had done once his mate was in his own arms.

He was barely holding himself together. Feyre offering him the memory of what she saw through the Cauldron’s power had nearly broken him. Only Rhysand’s hand clamping around his upper arm to follow him where he winnowed stopped Azriel from inciting further bloodshed.

Carranam.

It was unheard of. A bond so rare – so deadly in cases – that even mates weren’t prepared to try. How had Eris known that Nesta was his Carranam?

Not his. Never his.

The Autumn Court had no tents. They’d arrived too late, already in the thick of the fighting, to prepare them. Where was Eris?

Azriel’s breathing was a wet rasp. His wings screamed in protest with every moment. There were cuts on his body that needed seeing to, some more pressing than others. He’d broken ribs, gashed open his ear. None of it mattered. Not until Nesta was with him.

‘Can’t your shadows-’

‘They are searching for her,’ he ground out before Rhys could finish.

A number of the Vanserra brothers were already winnowing away their army back to their golden oak-covered lands. If Eris had dared to take Nesta... If he thought in some way that a Carranam bond meant more than a mating bond…

‘There,’ said Rhys gently. He pointed towards a clearing by the edge of the trees where Helion stood near Eris, blocking Azriel’s view.

Azriel forced his power to rally and winnowed them both to close the gap.

‘Get your hands off of her,’ Azriel snarled.

Nesta was unconscious in Eris’ arms. The flush upon her cheeks made his stomach knot. Golden light swirled around her body from Helion’s healing gifts.

‘She has delved too deeply into her power. And another’s,’ said Helion with a knowing look to Eris. ‘She will live, but her body is exhausted.’

Rhysand’s grip on his arm hurt. His high lord dug his fingers into Azriel’s skin like blunted blades to anchor himself.

‘Put. Her. Down.’

Eris gave an easy smile, one a snake might wear. ‘Nesta and I are Carranam. She will be returning to my court where she belongs.’

A shield shot between them – the violet edges a tell-tale sign that it belonged to Rhys.

‘Nesta belongs in the Night Court,’ his high lord stated.

Eris gestured to the cut across Nesta’s palm. Many had seen their display against the king. Whether others would realise that Eris had shared his power with Nesta was another headache to be solved later. All Azriel wanted was his mate in his own arms.

Azriel said through clenched teeth, ‘Did you have to cut her palm so deeply?’

Blood still dripped from it. Eris hadn’t bothered binding it. He’d hurt her. Ran a knife across her skin.

He was practically vibrating with anger. His mate had chosen to die. Had spent a night with him, knowing she would walk into the arms of death the next day. And she would have done it alone. She’d deceived them all to face the king. The image of her being thrown by his magic, the bruises on her face-

Her blood drip, drip, dripped onto the earth.

‘Az.’

‘Give me my fucking mate.’

The colour drained from Eris’ face at the shadows poised to strike him, shield or not. Even Helion stepped away, his magic recoiling with him. He felt the grip of Rhys on his arm release as Eris carefully lowered Nesta upon the soft grass too.

Azriel had one singular focus. He didn’t care for Rhysand’s words advising him not to be rash. Nor Helion’s advice about her magic.

The moment that he cradled Nesta into his arms, he winnowed back to the Town House.

This was the female he loved. The one he wanted to spend his whole life with.

And he was so fucking angry with her.

Fuck the Carranam bond. Nesta had laid in his arms, knowing she was going to wriggle away from the others and offer herself as a sacrifice. Did she think her life meant so little? That it could be easily thrown away?

Azriel wouldn’t live if she died. There could be no future without her.

Even with fury roaring in his blood, Azriel did his due diligence as her mate and stripped off her spoiled, blood-soaked leathers. Her knees were bruised and a nasty-looking one spread across her ribs. They had matching breaks then. He washed her hands first then bound the cut on her hand, tying it tight to cut off the flow. Nesta’s hair was darkened by blood, so he held her over the bath and did his best to wash it before cleaning the rest of her body.

His anger refused to soften even as he tucked her into bed and stroked her face. Azriel’s mind began to wander. Had she done it to get away from him? Was it a punishment because he’d gone to fight with damaged wings? Was Nesta trying to give him a taste of his own medicine?

Quick steps sounded down the corridor and Azriel braced himself for whoever it might be.

Rhysand loomed in the doorway.

‘Az, I need you back there.’

‘No.’

‘It is your duty to-’

‘No,’ he snarled. His thumb brushed against Nesta’s fingers. ‘I don’t care, Rhys. This is my most important duty. I will be at my mate’s side until she is well.’

Rhys’ shoulders slumped. There was blood and mud splattered up his face. ‘Az, we have a mountain to manage. Cass is heading to Illyria to let families of fallen soldiers know. I need to manage Hybern’s soldiers and speak with the other high lords. I need you.’

‘No.’

‘Feyre and Elain are going to burn their father’s body in lieu of a funeral. Nesta should be there.'

The burning anger inside of Azriel’s chest threatened to loosen itself on his high lord. ‘Can’t you fucking see she’s unconscious?’

Rhys stepped back, wariness widening his eyes. Slowly, he said, ‘I expect you at my side, Azriel.’

‘Don’t pull rank on me. If it was Feyre laying here, nobody would cleave you from her side. Do not expect me to desert my mate.’

For a short while longer, Rhysand lingered then departed with a wearied sigh. Any other time and Azriel would be right at his side. There were more important places for Azriel to be now.

Even when the others returned, late into the night, Azriel did not move from Nesta’s side. She remained unconscious, her breathing slow but even. He allowed Madja to enter the room and check her over. A nudge of her magic would help her to heal quicker. The others knew better than to invite him to join them downstairs where the most expensive barrels of wine had been brought out to celebrate. He was in no mood to celebrate. Azriel had almost lost everything.

For two days, Azriel remained steadfast beside his mate’s side. She stirred a handful of times, but remained deeply sleeping for most of it. He stole fragments of sleep whenever his head slumped for too long. His shadows turned traitor and instead of pricking him to keep him awake, they allowed him to rest for longer than he wanted. Nobody could move him from Nesta’s side: not Morrigan, as much as she pleaded; not Rhys or Feyre trying issue orders; and certainly not Lucien who had likely been sent in as a radical choice to offer information about Eris and the Continent as bait. Azriel would not be moved.

His anger softened. The sharp edges were rubbed smooth.

With every hour that ticked by, Azriel’s anger morphed into sorrow. He couldn’t imagine the burden that had been upon Nesta’s shoulders – the target that Hybern had painted on her back for protecting her sister. The fear that must have gripped her in those moments where she lured the king to her. She was selfless, reckless, and brave. Azriel stroked a length of her soft hair. As much as he despised Eris Vanserra, if the male hadn’t shown up then Nesta would be dead. He didn’t like to owe a debt to any, much less the Autumn Court heir – but when it came to Nesta, there was nothing that Azriel wouldn’t give, wouldn’t owe to protect her.

On the third night, she woke groggily, grasping at her throat. Carefully, Azriel trickled water onto Nesta’s tongue. She ended up drinking most of the jug before blinking heavily at him and settling back down onto the pillows, a hand clinging to him.

***

There were wounds inside of Nesta’s heart that she would never recover from. Her extended sleep had only worsened them. When she woke again, at the dawn, Azriel set to running a shallow bath for her and requesting food from the wraiths.

They went through the motions of him caring for her as she slowly settled back into her body. It felt foreign and wrong.

Nesta did not want to be here.

Not in this house.

Not with these people.

None of it.

For every invitation to join them for dinner, to drink with them in the lounge, Nesta refused. Azriel took her lead and acted as a buffer to her sisters’ requests even though he’d press her on the refusal. Nesta wouldn’t give him an answer. She couldn’t tell him that she hated herself. Hated how many lives she’d ended in the war with a stroke of her power. Hated that she was bound in some way to Eris and not wholly Azriel’s anymore. Hated closing her eyes and seeing the lights spark out from her father’s eyes as his neck was snapped. Hated to think that she could lose Azriel one day. It was better to close down and push him away. It would hurt less when she lost him if he hated her.

After a week of her hibernation, Azriel tried to tempt her outside. He offered the library which she refused and even a tea shop that she liked in Velaris, but she refuted that idea too. Each time that she rejected his ideas, Nesta saw his face fall a little more. She had to keep cracking him bit by bit then he’d realise she wasn’t worth his time. He’d find somebody better, somebody brighter, who could give him what Nesta couldn’t.

‘We’ve been in this room a long time,’ he said gently. Azriel reached to run a finger down her arm but Nesta moved from his path. Each night, he’d lay beside her in the bed but she’d toss his arm off repeatedly until he stopped trying.

‘And what is that meant to mean?’

He looked towards the window where twilight was settling in outside.

‘Fresh air might help.’

Nesta’s nostrils flared as she stood. She hauled the window open so that a strong wind blew in – and with it the promise of autumn arriving. ‘Fresh air.’

She hoped to see his eyes darken. For his siphons to pulse with warning so that she could have confirmation that she was pushing him to his limits. Nesta wanted Azriel far from someone like her.

He stood and closed the window, blocking off the howl of the wind. ‘You understand exactly what I mean.’

‘If you want fresh air then leave. Nobody has asked you to be at my side morning and night. It is unwanted.’

He had a way of emptying himself. Azriel kept his expression perfectly vacant. He was too difficult to read. Even his shadows sat still behind him.

‘I am here because I love you. Because I am your mate.’

‘I don’t want you here,’ she hissed.

‘Madja has agreed that you are well enough to try and use your magic again.’

‘I have no magic,’ she protested. It was a lie. It swirled and ached inside of her. Eris’ own magic had entered her body, scorching the veins in its wake. She was different because of it. Her magic thrashed at the sides of its cage, desperate to practise its new facets.

In an even voice, Azriel replied, ‘I will leave tonight, but you will have Elain or Feyre here in my stead.’

‘I didn’t realise I needed a nurse maid.’

‘Yes,’ he replied. ‘Because I don’t know what you might do if you are alone.’

Nesta’s heart gave a sorrowful lurch. ‘Leave me alone.’

He did as she asked, but within a minute, perhaps less, Feyre entered her bedroom. Her sister’s presence was maybe worse than Azriel’s. He was at least content to let her sit in silence or read. Feyre did not stop with her never-ending stream of questions or narrations. She talked of their father, of the funeral where she turned his body to ash, and it took all of Nesta’s strength not to scream at her sister to be quiet.

And so it was.

If Azriel wasn’t occupying the chair in her room, it was Elain or Feyre. Nesta stopped responding to them. Stopped answering their questions. She only ate when Azriel loomed over her and threatened to feed her like an infant if she didn’t hold the fork herself.

The war had ruined her. Every day became harder and harder to push herself through.

When Feyre one day snatched her hand unexpectedly, Nesta had no time to ask what she was doing before they arrived in her favoured tea shop. Azriel was already there, her favourite tea brewed and waiting for her.

Nesta couldn’t give him hope. There was something rotten inside of her. It would ruin him if she let him in.

Like an insolent child, Nesta sat upon the chair opposite Azriel and refused to drink her tea. She folded her arms across her chest and stared at him. She ignored his quiet utterings, pleading with her to drink. Ignored Feyre’s bubbly chatter. They had tried to ambush her – but Nesta was an unstoppable force of stubbornness. They would not find her malleable.

The further two attempts at integrating her back into society were as disastrous. One had been to swap her bed mate to Cassian who she had easily managed to grind down by making a grab for his wings multiple times until he relented and backed off. The second had been to bring the dinner to her room including all eight members of the household. From the wary expression that Azriel wore, she knew it had not been his idea to invade her personal space – and he was the one who ended it by ushering them all out.

‘I just want to help you,’ he said, the stress of the last three weeks beginning to weigh on him. There were bags beneath his eyes. On the nights that he stayed in her room, he no longer assumed a place in the bed. He’d bring a blanket to sleep on the floor or the chair, but he rarely slept. He had been harder to push away than Nesta thought. He was as stubborn as she was.

‘I do not want your help. I do not need it.’

‘Then what do you need?’ He pleaded.

To hurt him. To push him away for good, Nesta had to aim low at wounds that hadn’t healed for him.

‘I want Eris.’

The words landed. A vindictive part of her wished she’d used his name sooner. It made Azriel’s wings flare. All seven of his siphons rippled with colour.

‘I want to be with Eris. He is my Carranam.’

‘You don’t even know what it is.’

‘He is mine,’ she said, knowing that each word would hurt him. ‘He will train my magic then we-’

‘You’ve sworn to the Mother a dozen times that you have no magic,’ he said swiftly, cutting into her speech.

There was one wound left. One last way to make Azriel bleed so that he was as repulsed by her as he should be.

‘I want to be with Eris because he is the son of a high lord. He is what I deserve. And you...' she fumbled. 'You’re just…’

The words lodged themselves in her throat. Nesta couldn’t do it.

‘Say it,’ he said softly.

Nesta ground her teeth together and held her chin up.

‘No,’ Azriel murmured. ‘Say what you want to say, Nesta. Tell me what I am.’

Her whole body gave an involuntary tremble.

In silence, Azriel pulled a bag from beneath the bed and began sweeping through her clothing, throwing it into the bag. The three books that she had on the bedside table were tossed on top along with a spare pair of shoes. Azriel wrapped and arm around Nesta then threw her over his shoulder. The dig of his bony shoulder made her stomach ache. She smacked his back – tried to scratch his wings – as he manoeuvred her through the bedroom and down the stairs.

Her hissing and spitting like a cat roused Feyre who darted from the office downstairs.

‘Put her down,’ she demanded.  

Azriel ignored her and continued striding through the house with Nesta hauled over his shoulder.

‘Azriel, what the fuck are you doing?’

He exited the Town House.

‘I’m her mate,’ he said. ‘I’ll decide what’s best for her.’

Nesta sucked in a breath as shadows wrapped around them, disfiguring her vision.

When they stopped, a cold wind blew through her hair.

She recognised the wooden cabin at once. The wildflowers which had been as high as her thighs last time she’d visited were brown and wilting as the summer waned. Stars were scattered through the early evening sky.

She couldn’t be here.

‘Take me back,’ she begged.

Azriel gently set her onto her feet. ‘No.’

‘I don’t want to be here.’

The front door opened and light flooded through the gap.

She scrambled to find purchase on his chest. ‘Please. Take me back to Velaris. I'll be better. Please.’

Azriel’s hands settled on her arms, pinning them to her sides. It wasn’t anger in his expression. Nesta wished it was. No, Azriel looked utterly defeated.

His mother met them quickly, concern pulling her dark brows together.

‘Nesta isn’t doing well,’ he said bluntly. ‘The city isn’t a good place for her.’

Rovena nodded in sympathetic understanding. A warm hand stroked between her shoulder blades and it took all of Nesta’s strength not to break into a sob from the touch alone.

Without a further word, Azriel turned and walked a handful steps away before winnowing into nothing.

[becausesomething]

A cold heart cannot be warmed (Law x Reader)

Sinopse:

After the worst generation has conquered the long-awaited new era, the long-awaited future arrives for everyone. Where dreams can finally be realized and lived. However, there are hearts that are stuck in the cold of the past, which not even the warmest love is capable of melting.

WC: 2K

Relationship established between Law and Reader. It unfolds after the new era has been conquered and established.

"You can leave it, I'll finish cleaning the kitchen", I take the cloth that Sachi had in his hand and continue what he was doing. However, both he and Penguin didn't like leaving things half done so they finish what they were doing, leaving only the tables to clean.

"I'll take the food to the captain, he forgot again" Penguin was starting to place some plates of onigri leftovers on a tray. I let out a loud sigh "If he's hungry he'll show up, it's not like we're still in a fight against time, he might as well remember that his crew still exists...", unfortunately the words end up coming out in a slightly more aggressive tone than I liked. "Calm down, we know how he is, he just gets lost in his own world", he continues what he was doing but Sachi stops him, and then comes to meet me and puts his hand on my shoulder "Tomorrow we will arrive in Lvneel, we will be on land will bring good things" I grab his hand and look towards them both, in the vague hope of finding some comfort from the loneliness I felt, before returning to focus on what I was doing "How many times have I heard broken promises... I could understand when we had the objectives until the new era arrived, and after a lot of effort and struggles we manage to see this new world". I feel their eyes on me and that feeling that once again caused unnecessary concern, "Sorry, I'm just tired, and you know how I get when I spend too much time inside the polar tang. Go and rest, when I finish this I'll take you him what you prepared Penguin". In unison, they say see you tomorrow and don't forget to rest, and leave that space, lefting me alone. I sit down heavily in my chair, slump onto the table, and let out the sounds of frustration.

It has been 2 years since the crew was almost annihilated in the confrontation with Blackbeard, if it wasn't for everyone's quick action and teamwork to save Law and escape. After a few months, we met the Straw Hats again and a new alliance was formed to defeat him. 1 year ago, Luffy became the pirate king and we lost the race to find the one piece. However, no one could be sad because that person was the breath of hope that the world needed. And in a matter of weeks more changes began to happen within the crew of the heart pirates.Ikaku discovered she was pregnant, and with Hakugan they decided it was time to settle down, start building a new life, dedicate themselves to their new family and went to live on an island in the South Blue. It was a huge celebration with the birth of that girl, who was going to be a disgrace for her parents, it also meant a farewell that weighed heavily on everyone's hearts. 

This was followed by Uni's unexpected wedding, which was the result of falling in love at first sight, and it all happened so quickly that it left everyone amazed that he would give up everything for love despite knowing that it was always what he secretly believed and wanted. Jean Bart was the last to follow his own path, after being inspired by Usopp's stories and seeing the island of Elbaf with his own eyes.

My relationship with Law matured, and we spent so many nights in the room or on the deck, when we weren't submerged, talking about our own future, all the challenges we went through, after seeing cycle's close and trying to deal with the departure of the companions who were our family. It's something that brought us even closer together and fought readjustment. However, he managed to remain even more distant than before, spending days locked in his office with books and research, looking for the best island that the heart pirates could call their own. I tried my best to bring him to reality and I know that he saw and heard me, until he entered into that cycle again. No matter how much effort, affection and understanding he showed, I felt that it was often in vain and I needed something concrete and solid."Let's find an island and start building our future, maybe our own family, the time has come", those were the words that echoed in my mind, that kept the fire in my heart alive, that kept me fighting for what tomorrow would bring us.But no island was enough. We continued to be pirates in an era of conquering a name that we already had, but with each mission that appeared, it was where he put all his effort into compensating for the emptiness that sometimes weighed on the submarine. We continued to follow our captain with the same passion, but those words changed something in me. I wanted to experience the future that we could only dream of a few years ago, but that now was finally possible.

The sound of a chair being dragged next to me and a warm hug bring me back to reality. His arms wrap around and pull me against him, "You're lost in your world again, what's the reason this time?" I wanted to scream that it was him, but the words were stuck in my throat and an unexpected cry took over. I comfort myself in that hug, in an attempt to stop the tears that are already falling. "Why are you crying, sweetie? Did something happen?", I squeezed him tighter before placing a light kiss on his lips. "I'm here in a wait that never ends, being understanding and like everyone else dealing with the silence that came with their departure. My heart screams for the future you promised but that is never good enough for you", the fingers wipe away my tears, making my body shiver with that touch that I fell in love with, in the same circumstances I found myself in now. "I promise it will be the last island we visit and then I will make a decision", the look was sincere but I could hear the uncertainty in his voice, however it comforted me that he came looking for me and hugged me.I could protest those words, but we would get into an unnecessary conversation again, and I wasn't the only one who knew because it seemed like he was reading me at that moment. "What do you say if we go to the control room and expel Bepo?", he raises his eyebrow, that malicious smile appears, my weak point where I wasn't able to maintain my position.

That person to whom I gave my heart and who showed and helped me reach my potential as a crew member and wife of the death surgeon, was now in front of me arguing with Bepo. He explained it in the simplest way and without going into details to leave us alone, but you could see the veins of the little patience he had, and no matter how much time they shared, he wanted to maintain his friend's innocence. "Bepo, we want the space because we're going to make love with that magnificent view", the pale skin turns red and the hands quickly hide the features in the cap, while Bepo just puts his paws on his face happily and smiles to leave the space, but before saying some of his aye-captain to Law, leaving him now even more frustrated. "tsc, can't you be less direct?!", I grab his hand and pull him towards me, like the first day I met him I kept getting lost in those grey eyes "You know I don't, besides it's not that the reason we came here and you asked to leave us alone?" He returns the attack and grabs my waist "I need you!", his lips close to mine with a determination to only let go again to breathe as needed.

We had spent the last four days on the island, and I honestly felt like this place had always been my home. The characteristics of the island, the climate, the different cities reminded me of the island where I was born. The residents welcomed us from the moment we set foot on land, which only increased that feeling. Our name lived up to us and with those smiles, I knew that our legacy would go continue in history.

I was returning from the city along the paths laid out in the forest when in seconds I found myself on the deck of the Polar Tang thanks to his room "What took you so long? We have to leave in a few hours" I place my hand on his face and intertwine our fingers with the other "I need you, but I am no longer able to postpone a future that you don't want to come... For me, it has arrived and we are anchored in it. Law, I love you, and I know you love me too. In all the conversations about the future, I really wanted to believe that it was what we both wanted, but your actions say otherwise. Nothing will ever be enough because deep down you don't want to be stuck in one place or really build a family with me, because you're afraid that everything will disappear in a matter of hours and you'll be alone", shock takes over his features but I feel him squeezing his fingers and that confirms the words. "It's okay, I understand. Facing change is anything but easy, however, our friends who we consider family are choosing their own path, as they were always supposed to. I will never forget...", "No, it's not okay! Don't even think about finishing that sentence... I just need more time to consider, find a place for all of us", "This choice isn't up to you, it's up to each one of us" I hug him and give him time until he separates us.

"I need to experience the reality that you have always told me about, both in the past and in the future. My decision has been made", I held back the tears with all the strength I had left. Obviously I didn't want our story to end there, but I also couldn't stand being aimless and what I wanted not to be taken seriously."Don't leave me. It's true, I'm afraid and I'm terrified every time we stop on an island because of what happened now. You are my strength, and the one who always made me look forward. Please...", he grabs my wrist and forces me to look at him, which makes me can't take it anymore and my body gives in to the emotion "I have to think about myself. You're here, but loneliness has also started to take part when you go in search of excuses that only exist in your head. I can't stand feeling this way and having to hold on to the moments when you remember that I exist" I try to let go and calm the crying that made me feel like the worst person in the world. "This is hard enough, but I've always been honest with you", "Is this really what you want? Staying here?" In one of his affectionate gestures, he wipes my tears and leaves a heavy kiss on my lips, before hugging me "You are the woman of my life, I really love you for the person you are".

Promises that he would after those words were made but never fulfilled. Days gave into weeks, which became months, and ended up years. The heart pirates continued to exist, being a family that met from time to time, but without their captain who made the choice to isolate himself from the world.

It was Corazon's love that made Law become a death surgeon, it was the passion he experienced with the woman that he thought we would share his life forever, overcome the greatest battles and ghosts of his life. But both were still not enough when it came to facing the fear of a past that had left marks on a heart, which was in a closed safe in the office of a yellow submarine that continued to sail aimlessly.

Find more stories here and here xoxo

english is not my first language, even thought I use it more than my native tongue. I try my best to adapt it 🫣

[m-jelly]

The Prince's witch

Levi x fem!Reader

Royal AU, curvy reader, romance, falling in love, confident Reader, teasing, fluff.

Queen Kuchel and her husband the King are worried about their son. They believe Levi works way too hard and he keeps making himself sick. Levi needs to relax and learn to have some fun. So, the two of them hire you, a curvy and friendly witch to heal Levi and show him the meaning of fun. What they didn't expect was for him to be so attached to you.

Thank you @ladycheesington for this fun idea <3 I would love to turn this into a long fic.

Two beautiful royals stood before you with pleading looks in their eyes. Your heart went out to the two of them. They loved their son so much that they wanted him to get better and have some light in his life. They had tried everything to get him to relax and have fun, but he was so focused on being the best Prince and future King that he neglected himself.

Prince Levi was a strong and smart man. He gave everything he could to those around him to prevent the loss of life. Every second of every day he worked hard. No matter what was said to him he continued to push himself beyond what a human should be doing.

As a strong witch, you could enchant people and heal as well. To you, it made sense that they would request someone with your talents to help. You were a little embarrassed when you met them because your attire was a little on the revealing side. The dress you wore was low cut to show off your chest that was held up by a corset. A slit went up the side on your leg as a nice peek-a-boo.

You grinned politely at the royal couple to reassure them and hoped that you gave them confidence in your abilities to soothe their son. Their eyes widened when you floated up in the air and clasped your hands together. Excitement bubbled inside you at the thought of helping someone in need. You enjoyed a challenge and it seemed like the Prince might be.

Queen Kuchel led you down a grand hall as she told you all about her son. At first, you thought the Prince was someone young and this was a nanny thing. However, that was very wrong. When the Queen opened the study door you saw a handsome man in his mid to late 20s. He was so beautiful to you.

Kuchel released a long sigh. "Levi? Son? You know how your father and I have been very worried about you."

Levi ruffled his hair as he scribbled away. "I told you, I am fine. You have nothing to worry about." A gasp escaped him when his papers began to float up away from him. "Tch, shit, come back!" He jumped up to grab it. "Damn it!"

You hummed a little laugh causing Levi to glare at you. You gave him a playful wink and saw him slowly take you in. The glare he gave you slowly turned into a strong blush, his pupils dilated and a shiver ran right through him. He stopped jumping and just stood there and stared at you with a longing look in his eyes. Your aura, presence and looks instantly tamed the Prince. This had never happened to you before, so you were very interested in the Prince. Perhaps he was your soulmate.

You returned his papers to his desk and introduced yourself. You moved over to him and offered your hand. "Pleasure to meet you. I'm your witch. My job is to make sure you keep on top of your health and to also have a bit of fun."

Levi took your hand and kissed the back of your fingers with his soft warm lips. "The pleasure is all mine. When do you start?"

"Right away!" You glanced over at Kuchel. "Right, Your Majesty?"

Kuchel smiled brightly, which just lit up the room. "Yes! I'll leave you both alone."

You floated up and sat on Levi's desk. You made sure that your ass was right on his work. "So, what do you want to do? Do you want to read a book? Go on a walk? Take a long relaxing bath?" You leaned forward and pressed your breasts together. "How about a massage?"

Levi shivered. "I...I...I...uh..." For once in his life, Levi couldn't function or process any thoughts. You had truly captured him in a spell without the use of magic. "Boobs."

You blinked a few times before you started laughing at Levi's face going pink. "They are very nice, huh?" You reached towards him and grabbed his tie. With a gentle tug, you pulled Levi towards you. "Why are you so far away, hmm? It's okay to get close." You played with his tie a little. "You're so handsome."

"I...uh...um...th-thank you."

You took his hands and started massaging them. "So much tension in your hands." You pressed his hand on your chest above your breasts. "I need to work a lot on your body."

Levi whimpered a little as he became overwhelmed by your beauty and your warmth. "You...you do?"

You ran your hands up his chest as you read his aura. You cupped his face in your hands and hummed. "Yes, yes, you are rather unwell. I need to work hard on fixing your aura, mana and your body." You floated off the table and grabbed his hand. "Come."

Not a single thought went through his mind as you pulled him down the hallway. His eyes locked onto your ass as it moved with each step. He felt like he was drooling at the sight of you. Something was between the two of you, he could just sense it. There was this magnetic pull and he wanted to keep you close to him, always.

With your powerful magic, you filled his large pool bath with water and special fragrances that would help him out the best. Once completed you ushered him towards the water. After turning your back, Levi removed his clothes and walked down into the water. It didn't Levi very long to relax. He was almost out like a light.

Levi released a long moan as his body relaxed. "This...this is incredible."

You pulled your dress up and sat on the edge of the bath with your legs in the water. "My special healing magic."

Levi turned his head and gazed at your thighs. "Uh...umm." His eyes trailed up your legs to see your dress just about covered your underwear. He gulped hard before looking up at you. "Th-thank you."

You reached over and began massaging his shoulders. "Let me heal you. I have an incredible touch."

He shivered and moaned as your hands moved against his skin. "Mm."

You leaned closer. "I want to get to know every inch of your body, your highness." You pushed your fingers up into his hair and massaged his scalp. "What you crave, desire and need. I want to give you everything."

Over the weeks of you helping Levi, he had been glued to your side. Whenever he worked on something, he was always checking on you to see if you approved of what he was doing. If you told him to stop and take a break, he would do exactly as you asked. He hung on your every word. You captivated him.

When you shared afternoon tea together he would ask you countless things about your life and you. He was desperate to know every little thing about you. He wanted to know every possible thing about you. He wanted to know you better than anyone. In Levi's mind and eyes, you were his and he was going to make you his in more ways than one.

Levi adored your smile and laugh. Your body and dresses often caught his attention. The way your body curved and the dresses clung so perfectly to your form enticed him. Your mind was so cute and magical. Whenever he had to make a princely choice he often consulted you as if you were his wife. He would get you to help him as if you were married to him and carrying out the duties of a royal. You slipped into the role so well.

The royal palace adored you, but there were some in politics and the common public that didn't. Witches were not seen in the best of light and many wicked and evil rumours had been spread about you by spurned politicians. If you denied their affection, then they would tell others what a dirty woman you were and you had countless lovers, or you were using men for power.

You wanted a peaceful life as you helped those in need. Helping Levi relax a lot more was a dream job for you. Levi would often take you out into the lands to meet the people. You would use your magic to assist people along the way. It was moving to see how your magic brought joy and relief to those in need.

The thing you loved the most was spending time with the Prince. You cared deeply for Levi and he had won your heart rather quickly, but you didn't want to mix love with work. Levi also loved you more than anything in this world, but he hadn't told you yet because he wanted the moment to be perfect when he declared his undying love.

The two of you would go for nice long walks so Levi could clear his head and enjoy the beauty of nature, which is what you got a lot of your power from. As you walked together through the grand royal gardens you hugged his arm. A strong blush was on Levi's cheek because his arm was pressed between your breasts as you hugged it tightly.

You gazed at Levi and smiled sweetly at him. "Something on your mind?"

"Mm...many things."

You pouted in that cute way Levi loved. "You're supposed to be relaxing out here, not thinking about work."

He released a long sigh. "I am not thinking about work."

"Then what are you thinking about, Levi?"

He had asked you to use his name a few weeks back and every time you said it, it made him tingle all over. "I don't want to say."

You stopped walking and gripped his arm. "We have no secrets between us. What is on your mind?"

He groaned a moment. "I warned you." He closed his eyes and took a deep breath before opening them and speaking. "I am thinking about my arm and where it is right now and how warm you and your body is."

You looked down at your chest to see how tightly pressed you had his arm against you. "Oh, sorry." You released his arm. "I did not know it bothered you."

"It doesn't. I like it." He cleared his throat. "I like you." He took your hands in his. "I like you a lot. I've fallen for you and I can't imagine life without you."

Your cheeks burned at his declaration. "I...Levi...I'm...I'm just a witch. Someone like me shouldn't be with someone like you..."

"Says who?" He pulled you against him. "Tell me who they are and I'll break them."

"Levi..." You were in awe of this man. He was serious.

"I will not let anyone stop me from having you."

You cupped his handsome face and smiled. "You are so sweet."

He pouted a little. "I'd give up my title and power for you."

You giggled. "I don't think you would ever have to, Levi.!

He hugged you against him as he whined. "I know, but let me have this romantic moment."

You rubbed his back. "Okay, you win."

He squeezed you. "Thank you. Anyway, I would do anything for you, for us. I swear."

You pulled your head back to look him in the eyes. "I know. I believe you. I care for you so deeply. I just needed to warn you. Being a couple we would face a lot of opposition, but hearing how passionate you feel gives me hope." You nuzzled your nose against his. "I too adore you with all my heart and soul and want you to be mine until the end of time and beyond."

Levi tapped his forehead against yours. "You're the missing piece of my soul."

Levi planned his day out so it was perfectly balanced. He would work for the morning, have a lunch break and then work a little bit before having his whole afternoon and evening dedicated to loving you. Excitement coursed through him because he knew you would be so proud of him for designing his day so well. To keep Levi on track, you told him that you would reward him if he was good.

He hurried through the palace to find you waiting in his study with tea and snacks. A loving smile spread on his lips as he admired you in your low-cut dress with your hair up to show off your chest, shoulders and neck. He had so many desires and thoughts, but he behaved himself because he wanted a reward from you.

You raised your head from your book and smiled at your lover. "You seem excited about something."

"I am." With a sense of pride within him, he presented you with his diary for the day. "Here."

You took the book from him and inspected his schedule. "Wow Levi, I'm impressed. You're organising yourself without my input." You smirked a little as you felt the tingle and desire to tease him. "You may not need me anymore."

Levi dropped to his knees before you and grabbed your thighs tightly as he gave you a cute pleading look. "No, no, no. I need you. I'll always need you."

You hummed a little laugh. "I was teasing you." You ran your fingers through his soft raven hair. "You're so cute when you react."

He relaxed a little before resting the side of his head on your thighs. "So mean."

"I am."

He turned his head and pressed his face into your lap. "It is a good job I love you with all my heart and soul."

"And I love you too." You closed his diary. "I'm very proud of you, Levi. You're getting very healthy and your work-life balance is becoming very healthy."

He raised his head. "That's because you're my inspiration. I desire and demand time with you. I need your attention and praise."

"Well, you can have all my praise."

He lowered his head a little as the words danced on the tip of his tongue. "Reward." He raised his head and locked eyes with you. A determined fired burned within his gaze. "I desire a reward that you promised."

You held his chin between your fingers. "And what rewards do you desire?"

"Kiss." He was expecting a cute kiss on the cheek. "Please. On the cheek."

You hummed a laugh. "Well, you worked very hard so you deserve an extra special reward."

He waited for your warm lips against his cheek, but instead felt them against his lips. It took a moment for him to realise what was happening. His heart fluttered in his chest. He pressed into the kiss and returned it right back to you with all the love in his heart.

"Good boy." You released Levi and slipped out of your chair leaving him on his knees with pink cheeks and a look of awe in his eyes. "I will place your diary on your desk." You turned around and bumped right into Levi. "Levi! My goodness, you made me jump. You were so quick and quiet."

"Call me it again."

"Huh?"

He clenched his jaw. "Good. Boy."

You ran your hands up his chest. "Levi, you are a good boy. You're my good boy."

Levi grabbed your waist making you squeal. He roughly kissed you as he was driven by your words. Hearing you praise him set something off inside him. He craved your words, your voice, your body and your lips. He needed all of you to be his. His love for you knew no bounds. He forgot all about the list he had made for the day and spent most of his morning exploring your lips and body like he had done many times before, and each time was like tasting heaven.

[wild-dagon]

I’ve been thinking about the totk spirit dragon AU and I have some more thoughts about the champions.

When their spirits first come back in the past of course Link is over whelmed and there is a cute reunion but there’s a bigger roll at play.

With them Link is a walking mini battalion five warriors all of different races and all at the top of their skills. And they have to travel together. This makes Link Ganondorf number one problem. But we will get there in a second.

Once Link is at the castle and getting to know Rauru, Sonia and Mineru he starts learning about his powers.

I think the first time he summons the champions he tries to keep them with him for as long as possible and ends up passing out from exhaustion. He’s not used to using these powers. To Rauru and Sonia they are walking this strange boy and his four spirit guards to the castle and the next to boy is dropping to the ground. The spirits reach for him but dissipate as he goes down.

When he wakes in the castle he immediately looks around for the champions. Mineru and Sonia have to talk him down and explain that he has to practice his powers.

Through out his stay with them Link starts to master his new abilities able to keep the champions around for longer and longer periods. Keeping all four out is draining but keeping one out becomes a healthy exercise. The champions take turns being with Link. The don’t want to leave him alone in this new world they have all found themselves in. And while they would all prefer to be out they don’t want to make Link pass out again. If he passes out no one can watch over him.

Slowly he learns how to make the champions physical. It takes a lot of training with Mineru and Sonia. (She might not share his powers but she is to much of a mom not to be around encouraging him)

When Ganondorf launches his first attack on the kingdom Link is able to not only change his spirit powers to Rauru but also the powers of the champions which is what leads to Rauru’s light blast being so powerful.

After the first attack and Ganondorf swearing “loyalty” to the king Rauru knows he needs to talk to the leaders of the other races. He gathers the future sages and asks them to train with Link. At first this confuses the future sages. How would they train a hylian in the ways of their people? Until Link release the champion.

I think this would happen one at a time. Link would go to train with the Rito sage (I’m going to call them Medoh) and at first Medoh is super confused why the king sent this little hylian to train with him. He’s also a little offended think that the king believes anyone can achieve the Rito’s command over the wind. Until Link summons Revali. There has never been a bigger ego contest in the history of hyrule then champion Revali (who taught himself mastery of the winds) and Medoh great warrior future sage and control of the winds through birth right. Eventually they realize they have a lot to learn from each other. Revali gains better to control of the winds and Medoh learns archery techniques from Revali.

They go until Link can’t keep the connection up and Revali’s now drops from his hand as he is nothing more then a spirit now. (They have been at it from dawn to dusk Link is exhausted) He flys back down to Link and tells Medoh they will pick up another day before waving over whatever guards Rauru sent along to help Link return to where they are staying (a roost in Rito village, a stable, or the castle itself.

As the leave Medoh realizes what this was. It wasn’t just training for him and the spirit Rito. It was training to see how long Link can hold his projections. Every move Revali made every time he used his powers drained Link. They were training Link’s endurance.

With each training Link becomes stronger.

He meets with the Gordon sage (we’ll call them Rudania) at first Rudania is conserved for this little hylian and how he’s suppose to train him. Then Link arrives waves in creating and without a word summons Daruk. It is the Broiest Bros to ever Bro. Rudania and Daruk get along like a house on fire. (The might also accidentally set a house on fire) they are having a great time. Rudania learns Daruk’s shielding ability and Daruk gains some skill is creating fire. They walk everywhere instead of rolling because Daruk wants to carry Link up on his shoulder. He knows how hard the kid is working to bring them back and doesn’t want to over work his friend again.

Eventually they have to stop. Link can only take so much but it’s been hours but Daruk knows link needs to rest especially when he starts flickering in and out of existence. He wishes he had noticed Link’s exhaustion sooner.

Training with the Zora is different the Zora sage (Ruta) is a master of combat abilities when it comes to water. Far more so then Mipha or Sidon. Yet she has very little skill in healing. When link arrives Ruta assumed that this would be straight combat training, when Link arrives and summons Mipha she is stunned. They explain it’s actually Mipha that Ruta will be training with.

The two Zora’s start their combat training. Mipha is holding her own in the beginning but it is getting progressively harder to block the other zora’s aggressive strikes. Ruta is frustrated. She was told she would be trading the little prince. The people of hyrule had watched Sonia’s young ‘cousin’ arrive from no where and instantly get adopted by not just the royal couple but also the king’s sister. Ruta thought she would finally see what was so impressive about their new prince. And in away she had. He somehow had a Zora spirit tied to him. How is that possible? Why would a young Zora like Mipha tie her soul to this hylian after her passing. The whole situation is weird and Ruta wants to know what this Hylian can really do.

So on her next attack on Mipha she fakes striking from the left only to jet herself to the right. She uses the water to launch herself at Link. She knows she caught him unprepared so this should be and easy hit. She wasn’t going to kill him. Just knock him down. But Link’s sword is out faster then she can blink and blocking her strike. Well almost she nicks his arm. The guards watching over this start to rush over but Link calls them off. The attack wasn’t meant to kill him.

Mipha rushes over to join them and Ruta gets ya ask her questions about the two of them. The explain as best they can. They grew up together. Mipha lost her life to a dark creature. Link had freed her spirit and she had stayed with him ever since. Ruta still doesn’t get it until she sees Mipha healing Link’s arm. Zora healing magic is special and normally fueled by love. No matter what kind of love there is between the two Mipha cares for Link dearly.

The continue their training Mipha learning combat skills from Ruta and Ruta learning some healing tricks from Mipha. They do have to stop earlier then the others. Link wasted energy fighting Ruta so their first training was cut short.

When the ides of training with the future sages came up Urbosa was hesitant. She asked that training with the gerudos be delayed as she wished to observe them more. Rauru agrees with her. They had to be carful of who they picked to train with Urbosa. And Urbosa knows just how loyal her people are to their chief.

It isn’t until the future sage (naboris) reach’s out to King Rauru that Urbosa decides to meet with her. King Rauru invites Naboris to come and meet him at the castle. Link is with him when she arrives. The conversation is stilted at first, Naboris knows her chief is in the wrong but how does she communicate that to the king? Can the king be trusted?

After dancing around the topic for a while Urbosa finally appears. She had been listening the whole time but was waiting until the right time to step forward. She understands the tough spot Naboris is in. But they need to stand against Ganondorf. Once she makes this decision there can be no wavering.

The two Gerudo women get along well after that. Training is an even back and forth. Both women are equally skilled with weapons and lighting and just push each other to further mastery. Urbosa also help Naboris plan for what is to come next. After Ganondorf is gone someone has to lead the Gerudo people, she is helping Naboris plan for that future.

The champions and sages train together many times each time strengthening themselves while also building up Link’s power.

Link has grown a lot. He trains with Mineru, Sonia, and Rauru, as well as the training with the sages. Pretty soon he can keep on champion in a corporal form all day with out a struggle, then two. He could also summon all four in a battle but if he substantiated a serious injury then his powers would falter.

Rauru trust Link. Not only because of his skill but his willingness to help everyone around him. His compassion and service to the people is obvious. He can also tell that Link is used to protecting and guarding people. When Ganondorf arrived at the castle Rauru asked Link a favor. Rauru and Mineru were close to untouchable but Sonia and Link were not. Rauru asked Link to watch over Sonia. Partially to protect his wife but also to protect Link. If the two were ever attacked he hoped that Link, Sonia and the champions could handle what ever it was until he arrived.

Which leads us to Ganondorf’s attack on Sonia.

[themandjetofra]

Story of Sekhmet's Rampage: Modern Retelling

🐾 𓋹𓍑𓋴 🐾

This is a translated and modern retelling of the story of Sekhmet, more specifically the story of the (almost) complete slaughter of mankind from The Book of The Heavenly Cow. I rewrote this myself using translated sources, aiming to make this reading more understandable.

Notice:

• The original translation has the name "Re", but it means the same as Ra.

• Some things I could not translate easier without removing most of it's meaning, so I did not.

• This is a retelling geared towards entertainment— I add a bit more personality and atmosphere to make the story flow together understandably. Nothing I added strays from the original.

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When Ra finished making His great creations, He took upon the form of man and ruled over all of mankind and the gods for many years. In His reign, Egypt prospered immensely, and great harvests were brought forth. But in the form of man, Ra grew old— His flesh of gold and His bones of silver, with hair made of genuine lapis lazuli. His kingship was no longer feared, and many laws were broken. Mankind had grown to have such audacity under His rule that they conceived of a wicked plot to overthrow Him.

His Majesty Ra heard of this plan, and His anger was like no other. He was utterly appalled at their disobedience, and so He turned to his advisors.

"Please summon to me my Eye, Shu, Tefnut, Geb, and Nut. Tell Nun from which I came to attend with His courtiers." He ordered. "You must bring them to my palace in secrecy, so mankind shall not see them. Their advice is greatly needed in this matter."

And so they were brought to Him right away, and these gods respectfully bowed in His Majesty Ra's presence. Nun awaited patiently for him to state his great trouble.

"Tell us of this situation, Ra." Nun encouraged.

"Oh ancestorial gods, Oh Nun from whom I was born from, look upon mankind which I created. These men have been plotting against me! Hear what they say of me, tell me what you would do about such a thing. I will do nothing violent to mankind until I have heard your thoughts of this." Ra spoke.

"Ra, what blasphemy! I ask of you to stay on your throne. Mankind has become rebellious, but I know they must still fear you. Turn your Eye upon them in the form of your daughter, Hathor. She will rightfully smite those traitors." Nun answered. Just as He did so, Ra had become aware of His people beginning to flee into the desert, their hearts fearful of what Ra might do with such a suggestion.

And so Nun continued.

"No eye is as capable as yours to bring divine retribution. Send it to them in the form of Hathor!" He proclaimed.

So from Ra's Eye His daughter Hathor came into being. She roamed the lands of Upper and Lower Egypt and slaughtered those who had plotted against Ra, taking immense delight in the destruction She brought upon mankind. She bathed in their blood, and killed everything that moved.

Ra watched from his throne as She did so, before summoning His daughter to stand before him.

"I Welcome your return, beloved Hathor! Have you accomplished what you were sent out to do?" Ra asked.

"As you live for me, I have indeed done what you have commanded. I have overpowered mankind, and it brings joy to my heart." Hathor rumbled. And so Ra approved. "That is good. I may gain power once more over them as king. Hold off on your murder."

But it was then the great lionness-headed Sekhmet was made from Hathor. She did not listen to Her father, and continued to kill across the lands of Egypt. The Nile ran dark red, and Sekhmet waded in the blood starting from Heracleopolis. Ra began to have sudden pity on mankind, even if they had rebelled against His kingship. But nobody was able to stop Sekhmet in Her bloodshed alone, and Ra knew this would have to be settled a much clever way. Ra called for speedy emissaries swift as shadow, and they were brought to Him, where His Majesty gave them orders.

"Journey to the isle of Elephantine and bring to me as much red ochre as you can carry!"

And they brought such to Him, returning it to the city of Ra by the time it was night. The maidservants of Heliopolis had been grinding barley and brewing beer even before their return. His Majesty appointed the high priest of Ra to pulverize the red ochre and add it to the beer, so that in the moonlight it bore resemblance to the blood of men. It looked indistinguishable from human blood, and seven thousand hebenet-jars of this beer was made. Ra inspected this beer closely at the eve of the day, when Sekhmet planned to journey south and kill greater mankind. The gods came with Ra in curiosity of His wisdom in this plan.

Ra was pleased with this beer, and had them take it to the place where Sekhmet was to be found by dawn. It was still night when the beer was poured out over the fields to the height of three palms.

When Sekhmet came hungrily the following day for the slaughter of men, She instead found the fields flooded with this beer the color of blood, and so She thought it was the blood of men whom She killed. Sekhmet was delighted at this sight, licking her lips before she drank from this liquid. To Sekhmet, She could tell no difference. She returned so drunk that She was unable to recognize the faces of men, and therefore could not kill them. Ra awaited for His daughter to return, welcoming Her warmly.

And so Sekhmet became Hathor once again, and beautiful women came to be in Imau.

🐾 𓋹𓍑𓋴 🐾

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Haruhi and her frogin freind are out shopping together

How would three character of the host club be when they stalking them!

You and Haruhi have finally gotten together after so long. Traveling with your father’s business you’ve met quite a few people in your travels: karate masters, a flamboyant blonde, a really persuasive guy with glasses, and so many more. But nothing is like the market in your hometown or rather one of your hometowns. 

Unbeknownst to you and Haruhi, the Ouran Host Club can’t help but follow after the mysterious person they met just last Summer. 

Tamaki Suoh

“What a surprise the damsel we’ve been talking about happens to be here! Charge onward!” 

He’s too excited and far too loud about his ambitions to follow you

Their ‘king’ isn’t exactly the best at covert operations despite his inclination for them

And if you or Haruhi don’t already know he’s there one of you will find him out

If it's you, you’ll call him asking ‘what brings you here?’

And he happily will join you two 

Buying whatever he sees your eyes linger on 

even if it's only a moment

When the day finally ends and you wave goodbye to make sure Haruhi gets home he waits for you

Now Tamaki Suoh could very well stay away from you watching protectively as you get home

But he’s too much of a gentleman to let you go alone

Or that he absolutely feeds off of your attention

Even if you originally refuse he won’t let you he’ll still escort you

Even attempting to invite himself inside but when he notices your frantic breathing and darting eyes he excuses himself 

Making a show of driving away before instructing that they return in a couple hours

“My poor angel! All alone in such poverty! I just have to make sure they sleep well!”

Kyoya Ootori

“I’d also appreciate an in-depth look at their…personal life.” 

He has to control his excitement with a push of his glasses

Typically he’d leave such a job to his…hired help 

He gets plenty of updates from them but nothing beats getting the facts of his future spouse from ground zero

If he wasn’t so pretty and such a smooth talker it might have been easier not to be swarmed 

But eventually, he gets a disguise good enough that he can continue to silently follow after 

He’s sloppy because he hasn’t done this before or rather its been a while since he has

But he manages to maintain his cover

Making sure to make note of your conversation and preferences as you stop for food or buy different items 

When the day ends he tails you from a distance by driver as he notes the safety of your route and neighborhood 

Being sure to complain threaten the city council about the lack of lighting in specific alleyways

Of course, he will collect the Ootori photographers’ work for the day and decide which one he wants for his calendar, his wallet, his corkboard, his office wall, his bedside, his ceiling

“I’ve seen enough of their common lifestyle, it's time I elevated that. After all, we can’t have my love of all people being forced to live so below their means.”

Hikaru Hitachiin

“Well, aren’t you two cuties looking happy today!” 

He’s already an avid stalker of yours 

Now Haruhi is so used to this behavior she can wave it off calming any suspicions you have when you recall how this same situation occurred once before

Just like he planned

But now there's no shaking him off now 

He’s following the both of you all throughout the day

Being sure to pick off your food with the toothpick that you’d been sucking on

Or being sure to lick the strokes on your popsicle you bought just moments before

Taking every opportunity to pull at your fingers whenever he wants to look at a ‘commoner’s’ stall

He’s even walking you home 

Actually, he’s decided he wants a sleepover 

You can’t refuse him, can you?

Because he does have that photo of you

How’d he get it? He’ll never tell

But you best cook him some commoner alternative to Italian cuisine

Otherwise, you’ll just have to pack up and come to his house

“Don’t forget (Y/n)~ you owe me for destroying this picture~! So what’s it going to be?”

Kaoru Hitachiin

“Hey, I’m glad I ran into you here! Been trying to widen my horizons and decided to try the commoner’s market! Mind if I hang out with you guys?”

He’s a lot more casual 

Having a bonafide reason why he’s here 

You would have never guessed he had bugged your phone when you last met

He’s great at acting casual 

Oddly less mischievous without his brother 

It's easy to oblige when he asks you to pose a ring for him

‘Don’t worry about it! It's for a friend of his!’ is what he says

Or when he asks about what you like off-handedly returning with it in hand from a supposed bathroom break

He’ll walk you and Haruhi home 

So nice you only think it nice to offer your bathroom for the long drive he was in for on the way home

He couldn’t be happier to see the forgotten clothes strewn in your bathroom in person

Or letting the water run while he holds your toothbrush in his mouth then switch it with his decoy

“Thanks for spending your day with me! We’ve got to schedule one of around one of these days, preferably just the two of us!”

Mitsukuni “Honey” Haninozuka

“(Y/n)-channn!!! Come try this commoner food! It really is delicious!”

Honey has two stalking styles the silent type that makes use of his ninja prowess 

And the type that just abandons watching you from afar entirely

He typically resorts to the former when you're out with potential rivals 

Sabotaging every way he can before he results to pummeling the problem this person

But this time, it's personal

Haruhi is his friend but you are his future his sweetie cake just ripe for the taking

And while with most friends he doubts you’d be interested as he’s pretty confident they get the memo

But he knows Haruhi just draws people in that way 

And he will not let that happen

So every time you go to look into her eyes he’s shoving ice cream, cake, tarts, his face in between you two

It's so much like his normal personality so neither of you questions it

It's also nothing to question when he walks you home before letting himself inside to give you whatever sweet you like

If you don’t like sweets he’s just bringing cake that he can invite himself to eat it

You can’t really stop him when he insists on exploring your home as if he didn’t already memorize where everything is

Moving faster than you can grab a hold of him he might let you go if you hug him+

“Wowww (Y/n), your house is so small! Y’know you should come to my house, it's way bigger! You can even have your own room at my place!”

Takashi Morinozuka

“...I didn’t want to disturb you two.”

He’s really good at this 

Athleticism and stealth when he really tries give him the advantage

The only thing that can throw him off his game is you

He either gets lost as he watches you gush over a keychain or a stall you were particularly passionate about 

So busy swooning silently that he’ll hardly notice when Haruhi finally taps him awake 

With him, she’s the only one who can quite obviously tell 

And since Mori has hardly shown any worrisome behavior she invites him

He’s so excited to be noticed by you 

And will enthusiastically nod his head whenever you talk to me

Probably offered by Haruhi he’ll walk you home

Only now speaking more than he typically would

He can’t help but blush as he sees you continue to look at him only him

When he bids you goodnight he’ll stand in front of your home for awhile 

Intensely watching your silhouette pad around in the window as you start your nightly routine

Imagining himself alongside you after his timer goes off he leaves reluctantly

Switching out with his subordinates

“Goodnight, (Y/n).”

[a-dauntless-daffodil]

i love lion king 2

i love how we see Simba overcorrecting for his own childhood, how Kiara can recite lessons on the circle of life at the same age when Mufasa was just starting to introduce the idea to Simba

i love how Kiara is already so aware of the responsibility she'll have as ruler that, when cub Simba was bragging "I'm gonna be king of pride rock" and singing "Oh I just can't WAIT to be king!", Kiara, his daughter, who he's been raising to not make (or suffer) any of his own mistakes, instead says "But what if I don't want to be queen? It's no fun..." and sings "If there's so much I must be, can I still just be me, the way I am?"

I love how we see this PAY OFF at the end, when Kiara's sense of responsibility means she never once thinks of running off into the sunset with Kovu, no, of course she has to go back, of course she has to try reuniting both of their prides-

And maybe that's also some of Nala's spirit shining through her daughter, but really, Kiara is so much like Simba in all other ways (including her terrible pouncing, her thirst for adventure, her rule breaking) it really just feels like this is who Simba might have been if Mufasa hadn't been so confident he'd be around for his son so much longer, if Mufasa had focused more on preparing Simba for what the circle of life really means-

At The Same Time, even though it's good for the pride lands and the outlanders in the end, there's something tragic in comparing Simba and Kiara as cubs

how confident and carefree Simba got to be, how stifled and resigned Kiara ending up being, how she didn't get that kind of childhood at all thanks to her father's fear that it might be suddenly cut short, so much of Simba's talks with cub Kiara are warnings or lectures-

(when we see her play pouncing she's doing it on her own, contrast that with Mufasa and cub Simba playing together, contrast that to Simba's restraining paw scooping up his young daughter and keeping her in place)

-and even as an adult she ends up singing about how "I may not be brave, or strong, or smart" like this is more than just not being self-centered, this is depressing as heck, this girl doesn't think she's good at ANYTHING

(Timon you are not helping)

(I understand you might still be traumatized by your first meet-and-almost-eat with her mom and be worried about disappointing or hurting your adopted lion son if his cub gets hurt under your watch, but please, stop)

dear gods she never ever got to be herself without being held to the same standard as the great kings of the past

(except for when she snuck off on her own and got have a little adventure with Kovu, which she got through as HERSELF, not a princess, just a cub swatting at crocodiles and jumping on their gaping mouths just in time to save her new friend from getting eaten)

(meanwhile, Simba doesn't even acknowledge (or even hear???) her sad little line in their song together, he goes on talking about life lessons and leadership and she's the daughter of a king they are one, good, great, Simba your daughter is Distressed)

and that could have driven such a wedge between her and Simba, that could have pushed her into wanting escape and independence more than anything

except, she knows he's feeling THE SAME THING too

and we know she knows because when she wants to hurt him, to jar him, to criticize him for exiling Kovu while claiming he's doing it to follow in his father's paw prints, she tells him

"You will never be Mufasa!"

This is her fear, that she'll never be enough to be a good queen, this is also her fear, that the only way to be a good ruler is to stop being yourself

And it's what she rejects the moment she pulls a Nala and runs from pride rock alone- not to get help, but to give it- and when she returns to confront Simba with the wisdom she's learned, using the words he taught her

She looks at him, finally confident in who she is (with her back turned to the outlanders, defending them from her pride, "my father says to never turn your back on an outsider!" but she has grown since then)

she says "A wise king once told me" (Simba listen to yourself)

she says "we are one" (listen to the part of me that I learned from you)

"I didn't understand him then. Now I do" (Listen to me, now)

she says something that is true about pride landers and out landers, about Simba and Zira, about Kovu and Simba

"Them? Us. Look at them, they are us. What differences do you see?"

(between the desperation of lions on a starving land, dead loved ones, the thirst for revenge, children following in their parent's pawprints, to be so blinded by your own pain (fear, shame) that the pain of others fades away)

she asks him not to be a great king, but to see himself in them, these 'outsiders', and then to be himself in answer

And Simba listens

He looks at the daughter who had the same fear as him (Simba, who looked for guidance in the stars, saying "My father would never-" who Nala also understood so well, "Oh my Simba, you want so much to walk the path expected of you."), he looks at Kiara, who also feared that she couldn't be enough, as herself

Only... she isn't afraid anymore. She is a queen already, smart enough to find wisdom, brave enough to speak it, strong when she has to be

(he was so afraid of losing her but she had the chance to run and she came back, she came back and she is asking him, just once, to please finally-)

He listens to her. The clouds part.

We can feel Mufasa watching over them.

We look into Simba's eyes as he sees this (recall the same pattern of clouds and gazing when Mufasa told his son "you have forgotten who you are, and so you have forgotten me" and to "remember who you are")

The words Simba says as he accepts Kiara's wisdom "It's time to put the past behind us"

The lesson he learned from Timon and Pumba, this time used not to run from responsibility and pain but to face it, this hard part of his past that IS part of him

And the fact that even with all the reasons in the world to want Scar dead he still didn't want to be like him, he didn't want to kill his own uncle

(Mufasa never wanted to kill his brother, even as openly resentful and threatening though Scar was. There, the shock and horror in Mufasa's eyes as his brother betrays him- Mufasa never would have- Mufasa could have killed him any time before now, but he-)

Simba gave Scar the chance of mercy. Now, he gives it again. His daughter, his refection, his pride, has reminded him.

He looks at Kiara and he find himself in her.

He finds his father in her.

Great Kings of the past and present, great Queen of the future- Three generations and the choice of who they wish to be, and how that guides them into kindess, into mercy, into healing more harms than they cause.

Kiara speaks. Simba listens. Mufasa lives on in them

....

...then the contrast, sudden, stark, painful, of a daughter who speaks and a parent who does not listen

(Vitani says "No, mother" says "Kiara's right" pleads "Enough")

(Nuka is already dead, Kovu is scarred-)

(Their enemy no longer wants to fight, no longer IS their enemy-)

(Zira's smirk as she condemns her own daughter to death)

and the point hammered home, as the outlanders turn in disgust from their leader, that they were never evil

The point that the 'evil' which doomed Scar and Zira and Nuka (drove them on, single minded, into danger, into death) was a simple choice they all had faced. The simple question not everyone asks

Who are you?

Will you close yourself off to everyone and everything that does not feed your own conviction? Ignore anything that doesn't further your own goals?

(Nuka was loved for what he was, even if his mother never showed it. But his brother spoke up for him, his sister looked out for him, his pride all mourned him- he never needed to be the "chosen one")

(Scar was not the great king he thought he was, all around him is proof of his failure, the pridelands barren and empty, and his chance to do better, lead the lions from pride rock, make a new life- but it was never about being a good king to others. "I am the king, I can do whatever I want"- Simba's cubhood song, echoed in a lion who never learned better. Simba's offer of mercy, to let Scar escape with his life, thrown back in Simba's face (Nala's trick of always throwing off the lions who leap on her, here mirrored, saving Simba's life) and Scar, always thinking of himself, killed by his own self serving words and the hyenas he was so quick to betray)

(Zira wanting revenge for her pain, for Scar, wanting Nuka's death to be the last time Simba hurts her- Losing her daughter, because she will not stop the fight, losing her follows, because she would killed her daughter for refusing to fight... losing her life, swatting at the helping paw held out to her, only wanting to cause pain, only causing her own pain instead)

Will you cling desperately to what you have, or what you think you are owed, even when another way is offered?

Or will you listen.

(Vitani, so loyal to her mother, so vicious in her battles- Kovu's confused look as she changes her choice, choosing peace, Kiara's answering smile)

Will you see yourself in others and use that wisdom to decide who you want to be...

(Kiara, Simba, Mufasa- remember, remember)

...or who you do not want to be?

(the rest of the outlanders turning away from Zira. Their disgust at a mother who would kill her own child. The choice to leave her behind)

(the ending of the war)

I love lion king 2

it's the kind of sequel that makes me love the original more than i did before, it's so good it makes the first one even BETTER than it was on it's own

it makes the first movie sadder to re-watch

seeing how unprepared Simba really was. How Vitani proves that Scar had another way out

seeing Mufasa with his son, giving him a wonderful childhood, unaware of how has Simba will have to grow up- how long it will take him- the nightmares still haunting him- the gap between Simba and his own child thanks to his fears, his shames- (Mufasa's spirit, making leaves dancing as little tiny Kiara playfully swats at them) -Mufasa raising his son with no idea how much pain it will cause his granddaughter when Simba tries to make up for it...

...seeing all that, and knowing it still turns out okay

i wouldn't enjoy lion king 1 half as much without Simba's Pride. They fit together

i love them i love them i love them both

(also i am Gay and kiara is WOW)

(also also vitani too)

( also also also the fact that i just wanted to wrap kovu in blankets and never let anyone hurt him meanwhile he was everyone else's crush-> hmmm i wonder why that was....)