#when the king stood up to shake trolls hand I was sobbing

[klinefelterrible]

Does anyone else cry at the last meeting with the King in Fifth Elephant? I was reading it at work yesterday and lucky me noone was around because fuuuuuck. Every single part hits hard

[hufflautia]

The Queen and the Dragon

Hi everyone! Finally, the glorious fic that some of you have been waiting for is finally here. I am so excited for you all to read this, and I hope you enjoy <3 

Summary: All was peaceful in Endiac until tragedy had befallen the king. Now it’s up to his daughter, Princess Hufflepuff, to reign the kingdom. One might think that this would be easy for her. After all, the noble family of Endiac was beloved by all, so there should be no reason for anyone to go against her rule… right? WRONG BRUV! THIS IS A FANFIC WRITTEN BY ME, SO YOU KNOW THINGS ARE ABOUT TO GET SPICY!! Neighboring kingdoms who have sexist beliefs declare war upon Endiac, and the fairies come up with an idea that will prove Hufflepuff to be capable of leading her people—and it involves killing a dragon. However, when Hufflepuff encounters the supposedly fearsome beast, it is so much farther from what she expected.  

Once upon a time, there was a lovely princess named Hufflepuff who lived with her family in a glorious castle on the top of the hill that overlooked the entire kingdom. Her father, King Aeneas, ruled over the subjects of Endiac, a lush land that stretched for miles and was full of magical creatures. Everyone loved the royal family and lived in harmony with the neighboring kingdoms. Even the creatures that resided outside of Endiac respected the king—even the trolls, who usually sought to wreak havoc. The subjects especially loved Princess Hufflepuff, who was as kind as a fairy and as beautiful as a unicorn. Everyone lived happily under the reign of King Aeneas and his family. 

All was peaceful in Endiac until King Aeneas fell terribly ill. Everyone grew anxious for his recovery, especially Princess Hufflepuff. Kneeling next to her father on his bedside, Hufflepuff called to the fairies and cried, “Please help my father get better. The kingdom will surely collapse without him!” However, the fairies did not know of any cure for the king’s strange illness. All the magical herbs they had given to him did nothing to help his condition. 

But Hufflepuff refused to give up. Knowing that fairies were prophets, she took the fastest horse from the stables and rode to a faraway fortress, where the wisest fairy supposedly inhabited. 

It was said that Helia, the fairy of Coltherstone, was so well-known for her accurate predictions that many people flocked to the stronghold, begging her to prophesize their future. Being the generous fairy that she was, she helped and helped and helped. In return, they did… nothing. But that was ok with her. She didn’t expect them to shower her with gifts or jewels in return for her prophecies. After all, she was one of the most powerful fairies to exist, so she didn’t need anything from them. If they were happy, that was good enough for her. 

One day, when Helia was traveling to another realm, she got caught in a raging snowstorm. The relentless hail that poured down damaged her wings, leaving her helpless and unable to fly, the usual transportation that fairies used. The numbing cold prevented her from using magic, so she decided to look for help. She came across a village, one that she knew well, for the villagers constantly visited her in hopes of getting a glimpse of their future. Of course, she always abided. Surely, that meant they would come to her aid, right? It was only fair that they lent a helping hand in her time of need. 

Helia stumbled to the first house that she could reach and knocked. There was no answer. Were they not home? She decided to try another house. Perhaps they were available. Yet again, there was no response. Where did the villagers go? Perhaps they got caught in the snowstorm as well and were trying to make it home. 

I’ll search for them later, she thought to herself as she walked to the next house. Though I’m sure not everyone is missing. She knocked on the door of house after house, the rapping of her knuckles against the wood ringing out like echoes in the emptiness of the village. Her attempts were to no avail—the doors remained closed, shutting her out. 

She frowned, confusion etched in her face as she looked around. Was everyone truly missing? She decided to start her search and find any survivors who were lost in the howling storm. Right before she left through the entrance of the village, something caught her eye. In the top window of the first house she encountered was a silhouette of a man, the glow of the light behind him contrasting with his figure. A villager, at last! Her spirit rising, she held up a hand and waved, hoping to catch his attention. She was sure he could see her; the man seemed to be looking right at her. However, she watched as he reached up to close the blinds, leaving her alone once again. 

Helia’s heart sank. Why wouldn’t he help her? Shaking her head in confusion, she walked to the house. “Hello,” she called out. “Anyone there?” 

When there was no response, she knocked harder this time. “I know someone’s in there, I saw you in the window!” She stared at the door, feeling dejected. ���Didn’t you see me?” 

She decided to leave after waiting for a while and trudged down the steps. Suddenly, she noticed something in the window of the neighbor’s house. Walking closer, she squinted through the falling snow, and her eyes could make out the dim glow of a lantern within the house. What was going on? 

Helia turned her attention to another house and hoped that her arising suspicion was wrong. Straining to hear past the howling wind, she could make out the sound of faint chatter. She ran to the door and tapped on the wood, her knocks becoming more insistent. “Please open the door,” she shouted over the storm. “My wings are broken and it’s too cold for me to use magic.” The villagers ignored her.  

“It’s me, Helia!” Tears brimmed along the edge of her eyes and blurred her vision. “Remember me? I granted prophecies for all of you!�� 

They continued to laugh with one another. 

“Please, I need help, I need…” She trailed off, choking on the sobs that heaved from her chest. Overcome with emotion, she leaned her forehead against the door with her hands pressed to the side. Realization dawned on her as she listened to the vague chatter within the walls of the house. People were home. They just didn’t want to help her. The pain that bloomed in her chest grew more intense as she walked to the entrance. 

Before she left the village, bitterness overtook her and a curse erupted from her broken heart, spreading to all the realms. It was the last thing anyone heard from Helia before she disappeared, never to be seen again. “I will prophesize for you no longer,” the curse roared. “My door will remain closed to everyone but those who mean well. Those with hearts that are pure and true will find me in their time of need.” Everyone who did not meet those expectations would see that phrase embedded into the door of her fortress. It was a reminder of what happened, of how no one helped her that day. Even when they knocked and knocked and knocked—just as she did on that fateful night—the door would remain locked. 

Hufflepuff’s mother read this story to her so that she always remembered to be kind to others. Helia was thought to be a myth, seeing as how the last time that anyone ever heard from Helia was thousands of years ago. Many people believed that the story of Helia was a tale to read to children at bedtime so that they learned the lesson of lending help to others in their time of need. However, there were whispers that she was real, that she was re-emerging into society again, granting wishes to those who deserved it. On the other hand, none of this was confirmed. 

Regardless of whether or not the rumors were true, Hufflepuff’s father was dying—and that was most definitely real. She couldn’t give up on finding something that would save him. With her fingers crossed, Hufflepuff hoped that Helia would grant a prophecy that predicted the state of her father’s wellbeing. When she arrived at Coltherstone, she dismounted the horse and grabbed the bag strapped to the side before making her way to the fortress. 

“Hello Helia,” she called out gingerly, standing near the entrance. “My name is Hufflepuff, the princess of Endiac. You probably haven’t heard of me, but I’ve heard of you.” She took a pause and swallowed with difficulty before continuing. “And I just wanted to say that I’m sorry for what happened to you. That wasn’t right of the villagers to ignore you like that, especially because you always helped them.”    

“And I know I can’t change the horrors that you faced that night, nor will I ever truly understand the depths of your sorrow.” Hufflepuff drew closer until she stood in front of the famed door that supposedly had Helia’s last words known to humankind etched into the wood. “But I brought this,” she said before taking something out of a bag. It was a coat fit for a fairy to wear. Not just any coat—it was the fluffiest coat that she could find, one that would generate enough warmth to stave off the freezing cold. “It’s what I would’ve given you if you knocked on my door that night.” 

A puff of air blew softly from her nose as she brushed her fingers against the wool. It was a bit ridiculous giving a coat to a fairy that probably had no use for it. Hell, she was offering a coat to a fairy who may not even be real! She shook the negative thoughts from her head; she had a purpose in coming here... although she wasn’t really sure what that exact purpose was. Granted, she knew it was to get a glimpse of her father’s fate. However, another part of her had always wanted to do this. Whenever she heard the tale of Helia, her thoughts never centered around the fairy’s powerful ability to predict the future accurately. Instead, they drifted to how Helia must’ve felt that night, cold and alone, abandoned by the people who she cared about the most. It was always at the top of her bucket list to bring this coat to her, not as an offering in exchange for a prophecy, but as a token of empathy and compassion. 

Pulling herself out of the thoughts swirling around in her head, Hufflepuff delicately placed the coat at the front of the doorstep and gave a small nod of appreciation. “Thank you for your time,” she said, feeling a tinge of embarrassment. It felt a bit silly to talk as if she was speaking to the fairy herself. Nevertheless, Hufflepuff couldn’t help but feel a twinge of excitement now that she was actually here, at the famed fortress in which Helia supposedly resided. A childish grin stretched across her face, she stepped closer to the door and examined it. She thought back to the myth and reached out to touch the wood. Funny. People who visited Coltherstone usually said that Helia’s infamous words were engraved into the timber. However, she didn’t see anything. It just looked like any other door. 

She shrugged. A feeling of disappointment settled on her chest as she began walking back to her horse, thinking about the story. Maybe it really was a myth. 

“On the contrary, dear,” a voice called out. “How can it be a myth when I’m right here?” 

Hufflepuff spun towards the sound of the voice, her eyes widening once they landed on the figure. Helia, the very person who she had been hoping to see, stood before her in all her glory—well, she wouldn’t really call it standing. It was more like hovering in the air. Her wings, which seemed to be filamentous and transparent, fluttered like confetti. As they danced in an airborne way, the breeze took on a floral fragrance, one to send the mind into a heady stupor, the kind enjoyed on late summer afternoons. Her hair was wild and as brown as the earthy soil under them, with small horns that adorned either side of her head. She was already wearing the coat that was gifted to her, a twinkle in her eye as she gazed warmly at the girl in front of her. 

“Helia,” Hufflepuff gaped. “You’re here and you—you’re real and you’re wearing the coat—” 

The fairy giggled, the vibrant sound bringing a sense of peace to her troubles. The gentle sound could make the lamplight more golden and the fires burn warmer. “Yes, my sweet child. Thank you very much for the gift.”

She barely managed to nod in response, still gawking at her. 

Helia hummed a small laugh before walking around the side of the fortress, gesturing for her to follow. The gate that usually prevented visitors from trespassing disappeared, so she was able to pass through. She couldn’t help but feel intimidated by the fairy that floated alongside her. After all, she was one of the most powerful beings to ever exist; almost every child heard of her at some point. She moved as if she were only made of water, flowing more than she walked. Hufflepuff was startled when she turned her attention to her once again. 

“You’re the first human to give me something,” she admitted. “For your goodwill, I shall grant you a prophecy.” She took a pause to smile widely at her. “You would’ve gotten a prophecy either way, Princess Hufflepuff. Your heart is pure and true, and for that, I will help you.”

Hufflepuff let out a breath of relief. Perhaps she could save her father after all! “Thank you kindly, Helia.” 

They encountered a makeshift wall of hanging leaves, and the fairy parted the flowers aside so that she could walk through. A beautiful garden came into view. The bonsai trees lined the perfect lawn in their wooden boxes. In the center was a pond as large as a small lake with flowering lily pads and a wooden bridge that crossed the middle so one could look down at the koi carp. The flower beds were a riot of lively colors, splashes of red and gold thrown in the field of blossoms. She was awe-struck once more. 

“Come,” Helia said, making her way towards an area to sit and chat. “We have much to discuss.” 

Hufflepuff followed her to a bench that resided in the middle of the garden. The rosy cedar browns were married to the iron that curved into the great arms and grew into ever-blooming flowers to rest on. She didn’t take the time to appreciate its beauty; there was a pressing matter to attend to—her father’s fate. 

“Ah, yes. It seems that your father, King Aeneas, is quite ill at this time.” 

Her head snapped up to stare at the fairy in surprise. She was about to ask how she knew her father’s name but decided not to after seeing the knowing look on her face. Fairies had a way of looking right into one’s soul as if it were an open book for the reading. 

“So what of it,” she asked frantically, swallowing with difficulty. “What’s gonna happen?” 

“You will rule over Endiac much sooner than you think.” 

It was as if time stopped for Hufflepuff. “What are you saying,” she whispered, dread creeping into her chest. 

Helia placed a hand on her shoulder, but the soothing touch did nothing to calm the storms that raged in her heart. “There is nothing you can do to save your father.”

“No,” she gasped, standing up abruptly. “I won’t give up, I mustn't!”

“Fate will take its course regardless of what you do.” A somber expression splayed onto her face. “By the time the sun sets, your father will be gone.” 

Hufflepuff suddenly collapsed onto the bench, a grimace contorted on her face as she tried to will the tears away. Despite her efforts, they began falling freely from her eyes. Helia rubbed her back sympathetically and plucked a tissue from thin air, offering it to her. 

“I can sense the love you have for your father, so I understand why his death troubles you greatly,” she said. “But I also sense another worry.” 

Hufflepuff didn’t respond for a while. All that could be heard was the occasional sniffles along with the rustling of leaves. Finally, she spoke. “I can’t be the queen of Endiac,” she whispered. “I can’t rule the kingdom, not without my father’s help.”  

“On the contrary, you needn’t the help of a man to be a powerful ruler,” she said pointedly. “You will be one of the most well-known queens of your time.” 

A sliver of hope arose in Hufflepuff. Would she really? 

“However, you will face numerous hardships and go on a quest before you can begin your ascend as one of the greatest queens to exist. Your journey will be a very difficult one, and what you find in the end is not what you expect.” 

She thought about the fairy’s words, curiosity as well as concern swirling in her head. She still felt uncertain, for she was afraid to rule. Did she really have what it takes to be a queen? 

Helia squeezed her hand reassuringly. “It’s all going to be ok in the end.” 

Hufflepuff drew in a shaky breath. She really hoped so. “Thank you for your help, Helia, I won’t forget what you said.” She got up. “But I must take my leave now. My father doesn’t have much time left, and I’d like to spend as much time with him as possible.” 

The fairy nodded and walked her to the entrance. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Your Majesty.” She curtseyed. “I wish you the best of luck.” 

Hufflepuff gave her a small smile before making her way to the horse. 

With a heavy heart, she prepared for the long journey ahead. By nightfall, the subjects were devastated to hear that King Aeneas had passed away. 

Hufflepuff knelt on the carpet, her cheek lying against the pillow that rested on her father’s empty bed. She clutched the cloth and could feel the fluff of goose feathers, but the soft material did nothing to calm the waves of grief that clashed within. 

It smelled as if he were sitting right beside her, for his scent still lingered on the sheets. Inhaling deeply, she tried to imprint the earthy smell of cool rain into her memory. If she closed her eyes, she could pretend that he was sitting right beside her, that he was fine and all was well. This was comforting to some extent, but she knew the peace would not last. Her father was gone.

A tear peeked from the corner of her eye and rolled down her cheek until it finally came to a rest at the end of her jaw. More tears began streaming down her face as she thought of his last words to her. 

Someone called out her name. Startled, she stood up abruptly and turned towards the voice, relaxing when she realized that it was only her mother, who held her arms out for a hug. With a sad smile, she walked into her embrace. “I miss him,” she whispered, her breath catching in her throat. 

“Me too.” She stroked her hair and held her daughter tightly. A heavy silence drifted upon them as they reminisced on all the great memories they had together. 

After a while, her mother pulled away and clasped their hands together. “Come, child,” she said before leading them towards the balcony. 

She pushed open the double-leaved doors and stepped into the sunlight, taking in the light breeze. “Heavy hearts and heavy minds are not what Endiac needs right now.” Hufflepuff rested her hands on the railing as she looked over the kingdom. Her kingdom. Her mom finally turned to her with a reassuring smile. 

“They need a queen.” 

When Hufflepuff was crowned Queen, chaos reigned in the once-beloved kingdom. Immediately after neighboring kingdoms received word that King Aeneas died, they declared war on Endiac and vowed to overthrow the Queen because “a woman couldn’t possibly lead a kingdom”. Shocked, she couldn’t believe that the kingdoms would turn on her like this—even Bellesea, a kingdom that always aided Endiac during their time of need, joined in on the aggression.  

The nervous council members urged Hufflepuff to marry the king of Staerdale, the only kingdom that remained at peace with Endiac. This alliance would put a stop to their troubles because the armies of Staerdale were powerful and could protect them from anyone who sought to harm the nobles. However, Hufflepuff refused to make the offer.   

“My father always told me to marry for love,” she muttered, staring out the window and gazing upon her subjects. “And I know for a fact that I would not love the prince.” 

A councilman walked to her side and fiddled with his fingers nervously. “But Your Majesty, you didn’t even meet him yet. For all we know, he may be a very handsome and courageous man!” 

Hufflepuff sighed, looking into the distance. “My disinterest in him has nothing to do with his personality.” 

The councilman looked at her, confused. Before he could ask her to elaborate, the fairies stepped in and asked her to follow them, for they had just thought of an idea that would save them all. 

When they were finally alone, the purple fairy poofed a scroll into Hufflepuff’s hand. “You need to show them that you’re strong enough to lead the kingdom,” the fairy said as Hufflepuff unraveled the paper. On it was a drawing of a fearful dragon that lived not too far from Endiac. “There’s a dragon that rests on the top of a tower 20 yards away from the Farleigh mountains. It is supposedly so fearsome that no one dares to go near it.” 

Hufflepuff scrunched her nose at the fairy and looked back at the sketch, looking at the intricate details of the dragon’s scales. For some reason, she wasn’t as scared as she thought she would be. Instead, she was intrigued. “So why are you telling me this?” 

“You must kill the dragon to show everyone that you’re strong enough to lead your people!” 

Hufflepuff started to object—even though dragons were supposedly the most frightening creatures of them all, she would never intentionally harm one, no matter how fearsome it appeared to be—but the pink fairy sprinkled special dust around her, transforming Hufflepuff into an ambitious knight. 

Brainwashed, she suddenly straightened her back and smiled brightly at the fairy, who handed her a bag stuffed with items that would be useful in one’s journey.

“You’re absolutely right,” Hufflepuff exclaimed. “I must defeat this dragon and prove that I can lead the kingdom!” With that, she marched out of the room and towards her destination. 

The yellow fairy, who had been silently watching, finally spoke up. “Princess Hufflepuff wouldn’t dare hurting a fly, much less a dragon.” 

The other fairies looked at each other knowingly. “We know,” one of them said. “Hufflepuff will meet her fate soon enough.” 

When the dust finally wore off, Hufflepuff blinked blearily and looked around in confusion. “Where am I,” she muttered to herself, taking notice of the tower in front of her. She walked closer and examined the moss growing on the aged cobblestone. Suddenly feeling a puff of hot air that came from above, she looked up, only to meet the eyes of a dragon who perched at the top of the tower. 

Dark green eyes sat within the creature's skull, several tiny horns lining the top of its head. The dragon had silver-like skin, four mighty limbs to carry its body and allow the creature to stand arrogantly and imposing. Each limb had 3 digits, each of which ended in claws that seemed to be made of diamond. Gigantic wings were bladed in structure, and its long tail ended in a seemingly fluffy tip and was covered in the same massive scales as its body. Its neck craned to observe Hufflepuff from afar, a sliver of interest behind its stone-cold stare. 

Curiously enough, Hufflepuff didn’t seem to be running away in terror as one might have expected. Instead, she cocked her head to the side and said something that shocked the dragon. “Do you need help getting down,” she asked carefully. 

The dragon stared into her brown eyes, trying to see if this was a trick. It realized that she was being genuine, and suddenly bowed its head in despair.

“Please.” 

Surprised that the dragon was able to talk, a smile graced Hufflepuff’s features. “You can speak,” she remarked as she pulled at the drawstrings of her bag to open it.

The dragon let out sparks of fire from its snout as it sighed. “Only when there are people nearby, which is quite rare. Even then, the people who do approach me usually want to kill me, so there’s not much time for talking.” 

Hufflepuff nodded sympathetically as she searched through the items. The curious creature tilted its head to the side. “So why haven’t you tried to kill me?” 

She paused to look back up at the dragon. “I would never harm another being,” she declared. “Other than that, you seemed to be somewhat stuck up there so I wanted to help you down.” She continued rummaging through the bag. “Plus, you hadn’t eaten me yet, so I took it as a sign that you’re not necessarily looking to cause chaos.” 

The creature laughed, its chuckle ringing like bells. “I used to always cause chaos when I was…” It trailed off as if it were thinking back to another time. Though intrigued, she decided not to press on the matter after feeling a slight sense of sadness surrounding the subject. 

Finally, Hufflepuff found what she was looking for—a wand. When the dragon saw what she was holding, it hissed, its wings flailing around as it moved back in a panic. 

“Get that thing away from me,” the dragon growled, its claws clutching at the pinnacles that sprouted from the tower. A dark shade of red glowed in its blazing eyes and sparks of fire flew from its snout. 

Taken aback by the sudden display of anger, Hufflepuff held out her hands in an attempt to calm the dragon. “I’m not gonna hurt you,” she assured, her tone soothing and kind. “I’m just gonna cast a spell to bring you down.”    

The dragon settled down but eyed Hufflepuff wearily as she raised the wand again. She advised the creature to stay still before casting the spell, gradually lifting it away from the tower and onto the ground. 

A blinding glow suddenly appeared around the dragon at the exact moment it touched the floor. Magic swirled all around the creature until it was engulfed by a shimmer of some unknown force. Hufflepuff winced and shielded her eyes from the brightness before taking another peek once the light dissipated. A human girl laid where the dragon had once stood. She was sprawled on the floor in shiny armor, her eyes closed as if she was taking a nap. 

Hufflepuff stared at the girl, who seemed to be the same age as her, and cautiously inched forward. The girl suddenly stirred awake and made an incoherent noise, a sound of a yawn mixed in with a groan. She opened an eye, her eyebrows furrowed as her vision adjusted to her surroundings—more specifically, her sight focused on the human limbs that seemed to be attached to her own body. 

Suddenly, the girl sat up in an instant and brought her hands up to her face in disbelief, laughing with glee when she registered something. “I don’t believe it,” she murmured, examining stands of her own hair as if they were strings of gold. “I’m back to normal!” 

“Pardon me—” 

Before Hufflepuff could finish her sentence, the girl yelped in surprise and scrambled to stand up, her arms raised in a defensive stance. She let out a sigh of relief and lowered her hands once she saw Hufflepuff, noticing the royal seal on her cloak. 

“Forgive me, Your Majesty. I forgot that I was not alone,” the girl said sheepishly, flashing a bright smile before bowing. “Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Slytherin Wildhorn, at your service.” 

“So let me get this straight,” Hufflepuff murmured as they walked along the edge of a forest. “You were cursed by a witch who turned you into a dragon?” 

Slytherin nodded, gazing into the distance as she thought back to a memory buried deep within the wide expanse of the past. “Yes, my lady—”  

“You can call me Hufflepuff.” 

Slytherin glanced over at Hufflepuff, whose heartbeat quickened under her gaze. I’ll never get used to looking at her eyes, she thought to herself, staring into Slytherin’s strikingly green orbs before turning her attention elsewhere—or at least trying to. 

“Yes, Hufflepuff,” she said with a smile before continuing on. “A witch cursed me because I was a vain knight whose big ego would never allow me to accept help from others. One day, I was supposed to bring other knights with me to stop an invasion of a village. I decided not to because I thought I would be able to handle it on my own.” 

Slytherin was overcome with sorrow as she thought back to what happened as a result of her decision. “Only a few of the villagers survived,” she said quietly, a tear sliding down her cheek. “To this day, it is one of my biggest regrets in life.” 

Hufflepuff reached into her bag and brought out a handkerchief, silently offering it to her. She nodded in appreciation and took it, wiping the tears from her eyes before they could spill over. 

“Miraculously, I survived,” Slytherin continued. “One of the remaining villagers was a witch, and she was not happy about this, especially because her entire family was...” She trailed off, getting sucked back into her self-deprecating thoughts until she snapped back to reality when she felt something. Looking down, she realized that Hufflepuff was holding her hand, her gentle grasp quelling her anguish. 

“You don’t have to finish,” she said, her thumb rubbing over her skin in a comforting gesture. “I know this must be causing you a lot of pain.” 

Hufflepuff released her hand, and Slytherin found herself missing the warmth of her touch. Bringing her attention back to the conversation, she shook her head. “I feel a sense of duty to finish the story.” Her gaze was far away and distant as if her mind was elsewhere. “In doing so, I’d be honoring the lives of the people who died on account of what I decided. It would do me no good if I were to try burying that memory away.”  

Hufflepuff nodded understandably. “You’re very courageous for doing such a thing.” 

“You’re too kind,” she replied with a sad smile. “The witch certainly wouldn’t think so. In the aftermath of the massacre, she was resentful about my decision to refuse the help of the other knights, so she used her wand to turn me into a dragon, placing me on a high tower with no way of escaping.”  

“But you had wings,” Hufflepuff remarked. “Why couldn’t you just fly away?” 

Slytherin looked at her sheepishly. “I’ve had a fear of heights ever since my older brothers thought it would be a good idea to put 6-year old me into a catapult so that I could say hi to the birds in the sky,” she recounted. “I’ll never forget the expression of this one goose that I had passed. It looked quite surprised to see a little girl flying through the air and screaming her head off.”    

Hufflepuff hummed a laugh, a puff of breath escaping from her nose as her lips curved up into a grin. 

A smile of her own appeared on Slytherin’s face as she silently hoped that this would be the first of many moments in which she could make Hufflepuff laugh. 

“In truth, I still would’ve been stuck on the top of that tower if it weren’t for you,” Slytherin said. “The witch said I would need the assistance of a human to get down. Given that she transformed me into a fearsome beast that many humans wouldn’t dare to go near, she knew that I was doomed to remain stuck on that tower forever.” 

“But I wasn’t. I guess the curse was finally lifted when I accepted someone’s help.” Slytherin paused for a moment, gazing warmly at Hufflepuff. “And it’s all thanks to you and your benevolence. I would’ve stayed as a dragon if you hadn’t come to my aid.” She bowed and pressed a kiss against her hand. “For that, I am forever in your debt.”    

With reddened cheeks, Hufflepuff beamed at her before curtsying. Her smile faltered as she thought about what would happen in the future—more specifically, whether Slytherin would be in her future. After all, she was human again. Who knows where she would want to go or do with her newfound freedom?  

Slytherin frowned. “Something wrong?” 

Realizing that she had been watching her, Hufflepuff tried to cover up the sadness that melded into her heart. “Where will you go after this,” she asked and swallowed with difficulty before asking the next question. “Do you plan on going back to your kingdom?” 

Slytherin kept quiet as she thought about the question. “My family is dead so there is no point in returning,” she finally said, a hollow sadness in her eyes. “It was a part of the witch’s curse. While she mourned the loss of her family, I was stuck on that tower for hundreds of years, forced to watch from afar as my family slowly died from old age.” She let out a humorless laugh, a pained grimace on her face. “It would’ve been better if the witch had just killed me, but of course, she wasn’t that merciful. She wanted me to suffer what she was going through.” Her eyes became stone-cold as she recomposed herself, brushing the tears away with the palm of her hand. “I guess I deserved it.” 

Hufflepuff stopped walking and reached out for Slytherin to still her movements, her hand resting on her arm. “What’s done is done. The best thing for you to do is move on from the past because it would do you no good to beat yourself up about that decision. The fact that you’re owning up to your mistakes is very valiant of you.” She stepped closer, concern etched into her eyes. “If you need forgiveness, I’ll give that to you. You’re forgiven, okay?” 

Slytherin thought about it, relaxing when she realized that Hufflepuff was completely right. Her chest expanded as the guilt lifted off, and for the first time in a long time, she felt free. 

Finding comfort in the eyes that resembled the rich soils of the earth, Slytherin couldn’t look away from her. “Thank you, Hufflepuff.” The corners of her mouth lifted into a grateful smile before she continued their journey. “I’m not sure where I’ll go after this,” she said wistfully. Her mind went all over the place. The forest? That would be too dangerous, seeing as how there were plenty of dangerous people who roamed throughout the woods, looking for an easy target. The mountains? It would be freezing, and she would probably get frostbite on her fingers if she were to spend a few hours in the frigid summits. Maybe a cave would be a safe place to camp. However, she was sure that she would wake up with a sore back after spending a night on the hard ground.  

“Come to Endiac,” Hufflepuff suddenly proffered, saying it much quicker than she would’ve liked, but she hardly cared, gazing at her companion hopefully. 

Slytherin raised an eyebrow as she thought about it. “Would the nobles of that kingdom allow me to stay?” 

The corner of her eyes crinkled as she smiled. “You’re talking to the queen right now,” Hufflepuff beamed. “And I’m pretty sure she’s already approved of you.” 

Slytherin’s jaw practically dropped before she remembered her manners, taking a low bow. “Thank you again,” she said with a wide smile. “I am truly grateful to have been graced with your presence—and it has nothing to do with your royal status. I just…” She paused, staring at her with an unreadable expression. “I just see you.” 

A smile of her own stretched onto her face. Before Hufflepuff could respond, there was a rustle nearby. They both turned their attention to the woods and became more alert when they heard a twig snap. 

Three men suddenly emerged from the depths of the forest, malicious smiles plastered on their faces. Hufflepuff took notice of the symbols that were embedded on their armor; they were the royal seals of the Goulrich kingdom, who was the first to declare war on Endiac. “Queen Hufflepuff,” one of them sneered. “It appears that we have found you at last.” They advanced closer, clutching their swords. “Our king would like us to give you his regards.” He frowned and turned to one of the other men. “Francis, what was it that he said?” 

The other man snickered before answering. “I believe he ordered us to kill you,” Francis leered. “Did I get that right, Millborne?” 

“I believe you did,” the first man replied. His mouth curled up into a mocking frown as if he was expressing sympathy. “No hard feelings, Your Majesty. Surely you understand why we can not disobey his orders.” 

The third man sighed, checking out his reflection on the metal of his blade. “Boys, let’s not toy with her any longer.” He shifted his attention to Hufflepuff, his eyes cold and menacing. “Just get this over with.” 

“You don’t have to do this,” she said, backing away. “Can’t we just live in peace like we used to?” 

The men exploded in laughter. “We lived in peace when the king was in charge,” Millborne snarled. “You are merely a girl who is unfit to rule a kingdom.” 

Anger rose in Hufflepuff’s chest as they went on, spouting nonsense about how she simply didn’t have the same strength and courage as a man. She wanted nothing more than to prove them wrong, but she knew with one glance at their looming figures that she would not be able to overpower all of them. 

Slytherin, who had been quiet during the entire time, was silently analyzing the men. Judging from their fighting stance and the way they gripped the handle of their weapons, she could tell that they were amateurs. “This’ll be fun,” she declared, amused when the men finally turned their attention to her. Confusion clouded their expression before morphing into something more hostile. She brandished her sword and stepped in front of Hufflepuff. “Run,” she demanded, staring down the men. 

Hufflepuff tried to object, but she insisted. “Just go, I’ll catch up!” 

Taking one last fleeting look at Slytherin, she started running in the opposite direction. 

Slytherin looked behind her shoulder for a brief moment, relief filling her chest as she watched Hufflepuff escape. Her attention was brought back to the situation when she heard the men chuckle. “Something funny,” she asked, narrowing her eyes when they began circling her. 

“This situation is quite funny to us,” Francis remarked. 

Slytherin raised an eyebrow and laughed humorlessly as she kept two of them in her line of vision. “Please enlighten me as to why.” 

“A little girl in a knight’s armor is amusing, no?” The man behind her suddenly swung his sword in an arc, intending to cut her back. 

However, Slytherin had anticipated this and stopped the attack easily, their sword colliding with her own. His blade shivered under the brutality of her compelling strength, and she pushed against him, slashing her weapon upwards so that they were no longer entangled with one another. Wasting no time, she thrust her sword forward, aiming for his face. The sharp tip slipped past the man’s guard and he jerked his head back, a gash marking his cheek. He reached to touch the wound and drew his hand back, his eyes widening at the sight of blood smeared all over his fingers. 

Slytherin smirked at his surprised expression, her eyes gleaming with anticipation. 

“No,” she proclaimed. “Woman.”   

Hufflepuff was resting in a grassy field, taking a well-deserved break. She had been running for a while and only decided to stop once she was sure that she was safe. However, she couldn’t say the same for Slytherin. Her heart ached as she thought about the girl who she had just met but felt drawn to, an invisible string of fate bringing them together. 

I can’t just sit here and think about Slytherin, she thought. That’d do nothing but make me worry. She started rummaging through her bag for the wand; maybe the fairies would see the flare that she would send into the air and come to her aid. Her hand brushed against something cold and narrow, and she brought it out in hopes that it was what she was looking for. Instead of a wand, it was a paring knife. She frowned. Why would the fairies put this in her bag? Knives like this were usually used for cutting fruits and vegetables. Perhaps they did it by mistake.

Though it was probable that the paring knife would be of no use to her, she didn’t toss it back into the bag. Her mind drifted to the moment before she left Slytherin, who had hidden a dagger up her sleeve. There was no question about it—she knew how to fight. Hufflepuff could tell just by hearing the confidence that she carried in her voice when she said, “This’ll be easy.” Hufflepuff could sense her powerful aura just by glancing at the stance that she had maintained, her eyes steely and concentrated on the men before her. Just thinking about it all sent unexpected warmth rushing to her cheeks, and she quickly brushed her thoughts aside before sneaking the paring knife into her sleeve. It fit perfectly within her garment—it wasn’t big enough to the point where someone would immediately notice it, nor was it small enough to slip out. She shrugged to herself as she continued searching through her bag. It wouldn’t hurt to have a secret weapon close to her in case anything happened.  

Finally, she found what she was looking for. The wand, at last! She pointed it at the sky, ready to cast the spell.

“You thought you could escape from us?” 

Hufflepuff dropped the wand and turned around abruptly, her lungs filled with dread when her eyes landed on the men from before. Though a feeling of pride swelled in her chest when she noticed the multiple cuts and bruises that littered their faces, it quickly deflated when she noticed the slack figure that was slumped over Millborne’s shoulder. He sneered at Hufflepuff before tossing the body onto the ground. Her heart tightened in horror when she realized that it was Slytherin, who appeared to be slightly dazed with a cut on her lip. “Hufflepuff,” she croaked weakly. 

One of the men walked forward and rested his boot against Slytherin’s back. “I have to admit, your little knight is quite good at fighting. Too bad she got carried away and let her ego get the best of her.” He knelt down and pressed his knee against her, smirking as she resisted. “But this wasn’t the first time that happened... was it, Slytherin Wildhorn?” 

He chuckled lowly when she froze. “I knew I recognized you from somewhere. The disgraced knight who disappeared from her kingdom, never to be seen again. Though I’m not sure how you’re still alive after all these years, the king will be intrigued when I present your head to him.” He paused and turned his attention back to Hufflepuff, who was staring at Slytherin with worry. “Along with the unfortunate news that the queen of Endiac is dead.” 

Though Slytherin was too tired to fight back, there was unmistakable anger that blazed in her eyes.  Her expression softened when she looked at Hufflepuff. “Run,” she mouthed. 

A part of Hufflepuff wanted nothing more than to start running through the fields as fast as her legs could move. However, she stood her ground. No, she thought as she met Slytherin’s gaze. I’m not leaving you again. She reached for the dagger strapped to the side of her bag as Francis approached her, his lips curled in amusement when he noticed the weapon that she clutched with a shaky hand. 

“Do you even know how to use that,” he leered. “I’m sure the only thing they taught you to do in that castle of yours was to sit still and look pretty.”

Her face remained neutral as she sized him up, taking note of the sword in his hand. “We’ll see about that.” 

Francis chuckled. “We will indeed.” He suddenly lunged at her, brandishing his weapon and swinging it in an arc. She easily dodged and kicked him back with the heel of her foot. The powerful impact made him stumble a little, but it also made him angry. He advanced forwards, extending his front leg while propelling with the heel of his other foot, his sword aimed for her stomach. She collided his blade with the edge of her dagger and maneuvered both of their weapons in a circular motion so that the tip of his sword pointed away from her. Without delay, she surged forward and grabbed the wrist that was holding the handle of the sword, bringing it over her shoulder with her body positioned so that she was facing away from him, her back against his side. With his arm bent against her shoulder, he was trapped against her will. As a result, he could do nothing but watch as she drew a gash in his hand with her dagger. 

Hufflepuff finally released him and he stumbled back, hissing in pain as he clutched his sword arm. Her eyes cold and hard, she watched him with her weapon raised, blood dripping down the steel. “It seems I know how to use this well enough,” she said pointedly. 

His ego damaged, Francis growled in frustration and started slashing his sword relentlessly. He took the offense position as Hufflepuff was forced to go into defense, stopping the severe blow of his blade with her own. When her limbs began tiring, she didn’t have the strength to block his attack and chose to sidestep instead. The edge of his sword grazed her face and left a cut on her chin. Shocked, she didn’t have enough time to react when he struck her with his hand, a resounding slap emanating into the air as she collapsed onto her knees. Gingerly touching the red mark that bloomed on her cheek, she knew that it would be a matter of time before she didn’t have enough strength to fight back. She would have to end this soon—once and for all. 

Still slumped on the ground, Hufflepuff saw an opportunity to get behind him; his legs were positioned far apart from each other, which left a wide-enough gap for her to crawl. She quickly did so and kicked his back before he could turn around. When he did, his eyes were alight with anger, his grip tightening around the handle of his sword. 

Francis made a move to strike her but she managed to trap his wrist between her left arm and elbow. Seeing this as another chance to cut his side, she reached out to attack his exposed chest with her dagger. However, he had expected this and stopped the attack with his free hand by pressing the flat blade against her wrist, pinning it against her initial target. Wrapping his fingers around the handle of her dagger, he twisted it to a certain angle so that she was forced to let go. The strength of his pressure caused her weapon to fly out of her grasp, landing a few feet away from them. 

He swung at her but she dodged the attack by moving in a counterclockwise direction as she swiftly ducked underneath the arm that she had originally trapped. When his arm was released from her grasp, he lashed out again in a similar manner, his blade cutting through the air. She jerked backward and suddenly slung the paring knife that was hidden in her sleeve. It cut the side of his shoulder and drew blood, beads of crimson red glistening on his skin. 

“I found it helpful to have a few tricks up my sleeve,” Hufflepuff japed. Francis looked from his shoulder back to her, rage mixed with shock pooling in his sullen eyes. “I learn from the best.” 

She glanced over at Slytherin, who was awe-struck by it all. Joy was clearly prominent in her expression and she smiled widely, taking pride in the fact that Hufflepuff used the same trick that she had done beforehand. 

Her heart skipping a beat, Hufflepuff couldn’t help but be distracted, which allowed Francis to seize the moment. He kicked his foot behind her feet, causing her to buckle down and fall onto her back.  

“The best should’ve taught you not to be distracted during a fight,” he sneered. “But unfortunately, we are out of time.” As he stalked closer, taking his time so that he could relinquish in the fear of her soon-to-be demise, she took her surroundings into account and noticed a bunch of rocks scattered on the dirt. Pretending to scoot away in terror, she moved closer to the pile. 

Hufflepuff managed to grab two rocks and conceal them behind her back before he closed in on her. Raising his sword to deliver a full force overhead attack, he looked at her smugly. “Long live the king,” he declared. Before he could carry out the final motion, she flung the rocks at him as hard as she could and successfully hit him straight in the eye.  

When he stumbled back in agony, she quickly scrambled back up and began racing through the field as fast as possible, running towards the direction in which she saw her dagger fly off. However, something suddenly collided with her legs and she fell face-first onto the ground. She looked down at the rope that bound her feet together and frantically tugged against the tight cord, but it wouldn’t budge. 

Francis stalked towards her with a cold grin. “I think I’m going to keep this,” he said, toying with the wand that she had dropped. “It has proven to be quite useful.” 

He pulled Hufflepuff up and began dragging her. She resisted and tried twisting away from his tight grasp, digging her nails into his hands. He merely struck her with the back of his hand, leaving a red welt on her cheek. Her ears ringing, she didn’t realize where he was bringing her until they neared a cliff that overlooked the ocean. 

He pulled Hufflepuff up and began dragging her. She resisted and tried twisting away from his tight grasp, digging her nails into his hands. He merely struck her with the back of his hand, leaving a red welt on her cheek. Her ears ringing, she didn’t realize where he was bringing her until they neared a cliff that overlooked the ocean. 

Even if she knew how to swim, there was no way that she would survive the journey down; the cliff was miles above the water— it would essentially feel like hitting the pavement if she were to fall from this height. Bile suddenly rose in her throat and she tried grounding her feet into the dirt but it barely stopped Francis from yanking her forward. Standing at the very edge of the cliff, he spun her around so that she was facing the other men, who had brought Slytherin along for the show. She was kneeling on the ground, the sharp edge of a sword pressed against her throat as she watched, her eyes blurry with tears as they concentrated on Hufflepuff.  

“Any last words, Your Majesty?” 

Hufflepuff spat at his feet and looked at him briefly with disgust. “None for you,” she muttered disdainfully, softening her gaze when she switched her attention back to Slytherin. 

There was so much she wanted to say. I really like your eyes. I wanna hear more stories about your adventures with your crazy brothers. Your hands are really soft and warm. I admire your courage. You’re unlike any other. You were a bit intimidating as a dragon and you’re still intimidating as a human—but I love it. I’m really glad I met you. I just wish we had more time. Before she could express a single one of these thoughts that buzzed through her head, Francis pushed her off the cliff. 

It felt like everything was happening in slow motion. Slytherin watched in horror as Hufflepuff tilted backward, her feet scraping off the edge of the cliff. “No!” she screamed, for she was losing the girl whom she had only known for a couple of hours but felt as though she knew her for a lifetime. Meeting her was fate, but becoming her friend was a choice, one that she would pick over and over again if she had the chance. In a world of injustice, where cruelty was the cause and friendship the antidote, a person that she had never met before lent a helping hand when no one else would. In the few hours in which she had known this girl, she felt like she was finally living. Now she wouldn’t get to experience a beautiful friendship that might’ve melded into something greater. She’d never know what could’ve been. 

And it’s all because of them, Slytherin thought bitterly, turning her attention to the men surrounding her. 

“You’re not worth the trouble of dragging all the way back to the kingdom,” one of them said, drawing out his sword. “I’m sure our king will be just as pleased if we brought him your head.” 

A torrent of rage rose within and her chest heaved with anguish. “You'll pay for this,” she hissed as she glared at him. Her fury drowned out everything—she couldn’t hear their continuous taunts, she couldn’t hear the waves crashing against the side of the cliff, she couldn’t hear anything except her ideas for revenge. Though her anger was great, an inner voice that seemed to come out of nowhere pierced through the thick canvas of venomous hatred, its voice calm and soothing. It reminded her of what really mattered, and the torrent of wrath turned into something calmer. She made sure not to let her anger consume her because she had more important things to attend to. 

Slytherin wouldn’t let her friend fall to her death, not if she could help it—and if she couldn’t save Hufflepuff in time… well, let’s just say that it wouldn’t end well for Francis and his companions. A tinge of red clouded her vision, and for some reason, the men before her started getting smaller and smaller. She hardly paid any attention to them, for she had only one person in mind. 

In the far distance, Hufflepuff heard a sudden commotion but didn’t even have the chance to worry about what had happened, because her entire world was shifting before her: flashes of the wide expanse of the blue sky mixed in with quick glimpses of the side of the cliff became all that she could see. She tumbled through the air with her arms flailing around uselessly, her fingers trying to grasp at anything stable as she screamed, falling, falling, falling.

Having no concept of time whatsoever, she braced herself for the impact, her heartbeat racing quicker than it had ever raced before. Squeezing her eyes shut, she prepared for her final demise. She flinched when her back hit the soft but firm surface and—wait... what? She was supposed to splatter against the water like it was pavement; this was definitely not what she expected it to feel like. She peeked out of one eye, trying to gain a sense of her surroundings, and saw a palace of clouds. An ethereal world made of fluff painted across an expansive sky.   

Hufflepuff wasn’t falling. She was flying.

She sat up and almost cried out in happiness when she realized that she was on the back of Slytherin, who had transformed back into a dragon. “Slytherin,” she exclaimed in surprise. “You’re okay!” 

“I couldn’t die,” Slytherin joked as she flew back to the land. “Not when the Queen was in trouble.” 

Even though she had almost died, it was a euphoric feeling to soar through the sky and see the ocean in all its glory. The waves came in as a deep aquamarine, turning golden as the sun shone brightly, its warm rays painting Hufflepuff’s cheek with a tinge of red. The sea breathed, the surface rising and falling with rhythmic ease, and she felt at peace, something she had not felt for a while, not until she laid her eyes on a certain someone who changed her life in a heartbeat. 

When Slytherin finally landed safely onto the ground, Hufflepuff slid down and was about to thank her when the men who seemed shell shocked from watching the woman before them turn into a fearsome dragon recovered from their surprise. 

“Dragon or not, we will never stop,” Millborne shouted. “Not until Endiac is ours-” 

Slytherin let out a big huff of annoyance, the sudden gust of air flinging all of the men over the cliff, their screams disappearing when they finally met their fate. “Could you repeat that,” she called out to them. “I think you got cut off!” 

Hufflepuff ran and peered over the edge. There was nothing to see except the choppy waves, their foam crests becoming chaotic lace over the blue. She heard a sudden thud behind her and turned around. Seeing that Slytherin had transformed back into a human again, she quickly rushed to her side. “Slytherin,” she gasped, cradling her cheek. “Are you alright?” 

Slytherin smiled weakly and rested her hand over Hufflepuff’s. “I’m fine,” she assured. “I’m just glad you’re ok.” 

“And I, you.” She frowned as she thought back to what had happened a few moments ago. “I didn’t know you could turn back into a dragon.” 

Confusion etched into Slytherin’s face as she looked down at her own body. “I didn’t know either. I just remember seeing you fall and something overcame me. Next thing I knew, I jumped over the cliff to go after you.” 

Hufflepuff furrowed her eyebrows and asked, “But how were you able to fly if you didn’t know how to use your wings?” 

“It felt like a natural instinct. All I could think about was saving you, and I didn’t stop to wonder about how I would get to you.” Slytherin’s eyes flickered down to her lips and she unconsciously shifted closer. “I just knew that I had to.” 

Hufflepuff’s heartbeat quickened as she gazed into her strikingly green orbs. She had never been this close to her before, but now that she was, she could see every intricate detail. Her eyes were the hue of the new spring growth, bright and soft all at once. It was the kind of earthy green that revives the grass after a cruel, unforgiving winter. Within those irises were interwoven shades of the forest canopy that hid the chaotic nature behind. Never before have eyes held such danger and beauty all at once. She had a wildfire within her: reckless, untamed, yet undeniably captivating. 

“Have I ever told you that I really like your eyes,” Hufflepuff blurted out. Slytherin let out a laugh, which sounded like music to her ears. 

Before she could reply, she caught sight of a bag in the distance. It seemed like the satchel that Francis had been carrying around. 

Noticing that her attention was elsewhere, Hufflepuff turned around to see what she was looking at and frowned. “What is that?” 

Slytherin walked towards the sack and examined the belongings. When her hand brushed against parchment, she pulled out the paper and unfolded it. Her brows slanted as she read the contents. 

“What does it say,” Hufflepuff asked, walking towards her. “Is something wrong?” 

She wordlessly handed over the letter to Hufflepuff, who quickly scanned the paper. Her voice was tight as she read out loud the last paragraph. “After the job is done, meet me before the sun rises. Don’t disappoint me, Francis. I didn’t threaten all the kingdoms with war just for my plan to fail.” She let her arm fall to the side, the parchment slightly crushed in her tight grip. “Signed, King Renaud.” 

She shook her head in disbelief. “So it was that bastard’s fault,” she said quietly. 

“He’ll pay for this,” Slytherin said firmly. “And we’ll make sure of it.” 

Hufflepuff stuffed the letter back into the bag and slung it over her shoulder. “Let’s pay a visit to the Goulrich king.” She turned to look at her companion hopefully. “Do you think you can turn into a dragon again?” 

Slytherin smiled, a glint of red flashing in her eyes as she felt a torrent of power rising in her chest. The curse of the witch remained within her, but she was no longer trapped. She was finally free, and the ability to turn into a dragon when she wanted to was an added bonus. 

“For you, Hufflepuff, I’d do anything.” 

King Renaud paced around his solar chamber, impatiently waiting for any news from his personal guards. He rested his hands against the base of the window and gazed upon Goulrich Kingdom. Though the world was still cast in sleepy shadows, it was starting to wake up with a musical silence, the soul hearing the melody that the ears could not. A new day had come, new possibilities, a fresh page yet to be written. 

It was most definitely a glorious day for Renaud. Soon, it will be announced to the world that Queen Hufflepuff was tragically assassinated by unknown brutes, he thought with glee. But where are those blasted guards? They should be here by now! 

As if on cue, someone knocked on the door and gingerly entered. He turned his attention to a servant, who was fiddling with his fingers nervously. 

“Your majesty, some people are here to speak with you—”

“Yes, I know,” Renaud interrupted. “Bring my guards in.” 

The servant looked at him, confused. “My king, they are—” 

“I will not repeat myself, boy!” 

He shrunk back in fear and nodded frantically before scurrying away. Renaud let out an exasperated sigh as he closed his eyes and rubbed his temple. I’ll hire better staff once I get access to Endiac’s resources. 

He heard a creak of wood and snapped his attention back to the door, ready to scold the guards for being late. However, the words died in his throat when he saw who was at the door. 

“Queen Hufflepuff,” he exclaimed with a sardonic smile, taking notice of the woman who stood alongside her. “What a delightful surprise.” 

She didn’t respond and merely walked into the room, her eyes trained on him. 

“How did you get past my security?” 

“I told them that we would be discussing the possibility of a treaty. They won’t be interrupting us anytime soon.” She stared at him with a stone-cold expression. “As for the guards that you sent to assassinate me…” She paused, relishing his expectant expression. “They’re dead.” 

Slightly baffled but impressed, Renaud raked his eyes over her dirty appearance. With dirt smeared across her garments, she wore a scowl with a burning animosity that was developing in her fiery orbs—and he could tell that he was likely the root cause of the problem. He switched his attention to the other woman. The way her eyes squinted as she glared at him reminded him of a pit viper's slit-like pupils. 

He cleared his throat and turned to Hufflepuff. “You look nice.” 

Her nostrils flared with indignation. “Don’t try to flatter me,” she snapped. “I know what you did.” 

He raised his eyebrows in mock confusion. “I have no idea what you mean.” 

Hufflepuff scoffed. “Y’know,” she began as she walked closer, “I always wondered why the other kingdoms turned against me so quickly after my father died. Everyone declared war on Endiac all at once with the same exact reason—that I am unfit to rule because I am a woman.” She shook her head slowly. “It just didn’t make sense, especially because they’ve always known that I would be Queen someday and they never, not once, expressed anger or discomfort over that fact.” 

“Perhaps they have finally come to their senses,” Renaud suggested with a smirk.   

“Perhaps not.” She drew out a letter from the bag and held it up for him to see. “Proof,” she declared. “That forced the other kingdoms to turn against me by threatening them with war so that you could take Endiac for yourself.”  

Renaud let out a chuckle and licked his lips. “So now you know,” he said.

“Of course I know,” she glowered. “And I hardly think treason is a laughing matter. When the other kingdoms hear that you were behind the attempted assassination of the rightful queen of Endiac, they will have your head for this.” 

“Not when they’re following my orders—”

“Your threats will be of no use to you now! Who do you think they will side with? The man who threatened to kill them if they didn’t comply, or the queen of the kingdom that has remained at peace with their nations for years?” 

Renaud’s face blanched. 

A humorless smile spread onto her face. “So now you understand.” She stored the paper in the bag. “Your control over the nine kingdoms has crumbled to dust, King Renaud, and your reign will end soon enough.” 

“But if the others didn’t know what I did, if they didn’t have the dear queen of Endiac to inform them of my...plans,” he said slowly, his eyes focused on the bag. “Then all will remain as it is.” 

He suddenly brandished a weapon from his belt. 

“I guess I have to do it myself when I want a job done.” He smiled cruelly when she wielded a sword of her own and chuckled in amusement at Slytherin, who gripped the handle of her blade but held back from intervening just yet—she knew her friend would be able to manage this. “It was a pleasure to meet both of your acquaintances, but I’m afraid our time is up.” 

In an instant, Hufflepuff and Renaud were against each other, their weapons clashing. She positioned her right hand at the top end of the grip and the other hand at the bottom, which allowed for a wider range of arm movements with the sword. Thinking back to the quick lesson that Slytherin had given her before they arrived, she kept her elbows bent and close to her body as she counter-attacked. 

However, she was at a disadvantage, for he was more skilled in sword fighting than her. Known for extensively training his powerful army for war, Renaud attacked as if it were as easy as breathing, and Hufflepuff wasn’t prepared for the immediate retaliation after he parried her attack. The handle of his sword collided with her jaw, and she stumbled back with a hiss through gritted teeth. 

Renaud used her moment of distraction to snatch the bag away. He suddenly drew in a sharp breath and let go of the satchel, which slid across the room. Gripping the side of his arm, he looked at the blood that seeped through his sleeve. His head snapped up at Slytherin, who stared at him with enough malice to cause fear to seize his lungs. She was holding a sword, the edge of the blade lined with crimson red. 

She glanced at Hufflepuff, who had recovered from the blow. They gave a quick nod to one another, a mutual understanding blooming between them. 

He whipped out a second sword from his belt and eyed both of them. “This’ll be interesting,” he sneered before resuming the fight. He kept track of the simultaneous attacks, parrying the thrust of one sword while lunging at the other opponent. 

Slytherin performed a brief feint at his face by lifting her arms and sword above her head to invite him to attack. Interpreting this as a perfect opportunity to jab at her stomach, he fell right into her trap. She quickly blocked the move with her weapon and successfully forced him to drop the sword by twisting his wrist whilst lifting her foot towards his groin. She pushed her heel against his body to push him off balance and slashed her sword at him to complete the attack. However, he caught the full force of the blow with his other weapon and pushed against her with his body weight. 

Losing balance, she crashed into the unlit fireplace behind her. A statue wobbled from the mantle and hit her head. She slumped onto the ground with her eyes closed, motionless. 

Hufflepuff gasped and turned her attention to Slytherin. Distracted, she didn’t counter Renaud’s blow of his fist. Her head snapped back from the impact and she stumbled away with blood trickling from her busted lip. 

“You will die just like your father,” he said smugly, advancing toward her. 

She glared at him. “I thought you liked him.” 

“Liked? More like tolerated. Then again, his reign was boring me. He was too kind and moral,” he sighed in exasperation. “Too virtuous to heed my request for resources to expand my armories. It was time for things to change.”

Realization dawned on her, and she pointed the tip of her sword at him with a shaky inhale. “Did you have something to do with his death?”

He didn’t respond and merely smiled slyly. Angry, she slashed her sword at him and he parried. With their weapons pressed against each other, she glared at him with burning eyes. 

“Answer me,” she demanded. 

Renaud pushed against the collision of swords but she stood her ground as she looked at him expectantly. 

“Yes,” he finally said. 

The air from her lungs seemed to escape. 

“And it merely took a slip of a homemade potion into his drink to do it.”

Her breathing was labored and ragged as tears began to brim at the corners of her eyes. Renaud sneered. “You see? Women are too emotional to lead.” 

“You will regret what you did to him,” she whispered hoarsely. 

The battle commenced once again. Hufflepuff fought with more aggression this time; she wanted to avenge her father and make sure that she made it out alive so that she could keep the kingdom from falling into the wrong hands. Besides that, she had people worth fighting for. Her citizens, of course, but also Slytherin. She prayed to any deity out there who was possibly listening that her friend was still alive and well. 

She could only hope for the best as she fought her opponent for her nation, for her people, for Slytherin.  

Renaud directed a cut towards her right leg, but she parried the attack by dropping her sword downwards and bracing with enough space to absorb the impact of the blow. She suddenly swung her weapon upwards in a flash, her blade striking his cheek. A gash drew from his jawline to the small area underneath his left eye. Blood dribbled onto the floor but he didn’t pay it any attention as he advanced towards her angrily. Knowing that he would retaliate aggressively, she tricked him by making it seem as if she was going to lunge for his arm but moved in a semi-circle arc to attack a different area. 

However, he blocked the blow by turning his wrist so that it faced outward and swept the attack aside. She ducked when he swung his sword at her head, but he had anticipated this and kneed her straight in the face. She felt the oxygen knock out of her lungs when she hit the floor, blood gushing from her nose. Blinded with flashing colorful spots, she squeezed her eyes shut as a crushing pain pounded on the side of her head. She tried to will the sting to go away, but the world seemed to fall away, and all she could concentrate on was the ache rooted deep in her head. Her eyesight blurring, everything became fuzzy; then she saw nothing at all. 

Renaud walked closer and raised his sword above her sprawled figure. He aimed for her stomach and brought his weapon down, but the blade clashed with another. He looked at the culprit and huffed a humorless laugh when his eyes landed on Slytherin, who had gotten up just in time to stop the attack. 

“I thought you dead,” he mused, withdrawing his sword. 

“You were sorely mistaken.” 

Slytherin opened her body at a 45-degree angle, her left foot ahead of her right. With the position allowing her a firm base of support to attack from, she began slashing her sword at him relentlessly, the blade cutting through the air with an unrivaled speed from all the adrenaline that coursed through her body. When he thrust his weapon at the exposed opening of her inner arm, she wisely parried the attack with the forte of her sword. She whipped out the hidden knife within her sleeve and pressed the sharp edge against his fingers so that he released his weapon. Kicking his stomach with enough force to topple him over, she left him defenseless with his back against the floor, no weapon in hand.  

“I promised Hufflepuff that you would pay for all the pain you’ve caused,” she said lowly. “And I intend to keep that promise.”  

Scooting away from her as she walked closer, Renaud suddenly felt something behind him. The bag. 

He grabbed it and was about to snatch the paper out to tear it apart when he caught sight of something that had fallen out. Before Slytherin could take another step, he pointed the wand at her. 

“Drop the sword.” 

Hufflepuff squirmed against the floor and pressed the palm of her hand against her forehead as she tried to make sense of what was happening. Her consciousness floated through an empty space filled with a thick static. Throughout the inky space, her heartbeat pounded loudly and echoed in her ears, alongside fading voices. 

Slytherin, she thought groggily. Is that Slytherin?  

She opened her eyes, blinking several times to clear her blurry vision. With difficulty, she propped herself up and caught sight of Slytherin, who seemed to be bound by thick cords. 

“I knew I remembered you from somewhere. You’re the famed dame who disappeared after her tragic loss in Mortham Village. I have to say, you are an exceptional fighter.” Renaud placed the letter onto his desk before walking closer to her. 

“But no one ever said anything about your beauty,” he drawled, reaching out to brush the underside of her chin with the tips of his crooked fingers. She defiantly turned her head out of his grasp and pulled against the restraints, but they didn’t budge. She gave him a withering look when he chuckled at her struggles. “It would be a shame to kill you. Won’t you consider joining me? You can be my queen, and we can rule Goulrich together.” 

She spat at his face. “You can go to hell,” she seethed through gritted teeth. 

The corners of his mouth rose almost imperceptibly as he wiped at his cheek. “You have a fiery temper, I’ll give you that.” 

Before he could say anything else, he abruptly crumbled to the floor. Slytherin instinctively jerked away but let out a sigh of relief when she saw Hufflepuff standing in front of his body with a crowbar. “Where’d you get that,” she exclaimed. 

Hufflepuff ran to her and began cutting through the rope. “Doesn’t matter,” she exhaled. “I’m just glad he didn’t turn around.” 

Slytherin beamed at her but suddenly focused on something behind her. “Hufflepuff, look out!” However, she didn’t have enough time to heed the warning. 

Renaud, who had recovered, grabbed Hufflepuff by the arm and flung her onto the ground. “You never quit, do you?” He pulled her up by the collar and whipped her around, his chest against her back. 

His arm closed in a vise-like grip around her neck. “When will you learn that you’re just a pathetic little princess,” he snarled. She thrashed against him and dug her nails into his skin, but his grip was unyielding. Her lungs began to burn from lack of air, and dark spots danced across her vision as she became more and more frantic. She reached back to claw at his face but he merely tightened his hold, and her breathing momentarily stopped. The ache in her chest grew worse by the moment as she writhed under his grasp, small ragged breaths escaping her throat. Slowly the world started to spin, to fade, as each sound grew dull. 

Maybe Renaud was right. Maybe she was never destined to be the queen that Endiac needed. She had failed her nation. She had failed Slytherin, who was probably going to suffer a similar fate. 

Oh, if only she had more time. With her eyes closed in defeat, a tear slid down her cheek. 

Someone knocked on the door. 

Hufflepuff’s eyes flew open and she took a sharp gasp of air, clutching her throat. She looked around frantically; where were Renaud and Slytherin? Her eyebrows scrunched up in confusion when she realized that her entire surroundings had changed. She was...home? Before she could figure out how this was possible, someone interrupted her thoughts.

“Father?”

She turned towards the sound of the voice and saw a girl poking her head through the crevice of the door; the strange part was that she looked exactly like her. 

How could this be, she thought as she shook her head in disbelief. What’s going on? 

“Come in, my dear child.” 

Her heart dropped when she heard that voice. She knew that voice. She slowly turned around, and what she saw made her jaw drop, though a part of her already knew. 

Her father laid on his bed, the corners of his eyes crinkled into the familiar smile wrinkles etched in his face.

Hufflepuff drew in a shaky breath and could barely do anything but stare in shock at him. Now, this was getting a little too much for her. First, she saw an exact replica of herself who was standing a few feet away from her; now she was looking at her dad, who was supposed to be dead but was currently laying before her, rested and well. Well, she wouldn’t actually describe him like that. He looked tired and quite pale. 

Wait a minute… 

Before she could connect the dots, she heard the door creak open. She turned around and saw the other Hufflepuff running towards her. She stumbled back and braced for impact when the girl seemed as if she was going to collide with her. The last thing that she expected was for the clone to run right through her. 

Hufflepuff gasped and clutched her body. What in the world was going on? 

Am I a ghost, she wondered, dread starting to creep up her neck. Is this the afterlife? 

 She turned back to the other Hufflepuff, who was now kneeling by the bedside. 

“I’m sorry I was gone so long,” the girl said quietly, clutching her father’s hand. “I went to visit a fairy for…” 

She paused but he spoke before she could say anything. “Was it to wish for a pet unicorn?” 

The tense environment evaporated as a goofy smile spread across his face, which, in turn, made her smile as well. She exhaled a laugh and shook her head with a grin. 

“Wait,” the original Hufflepuff whispered. “I remember this…” An ache settled uncomfortably in her chest. This was the last time she spoke with her father. 

Maybe I really am dead, she thought glumly, waving a hand through the girl. Her fingers went straight through, leaving small wisps of cloudiness in its wake. With a sigh, she sat on the other side of the bed and gazed upon her father. I might as well enjoy this memory. 

The smile on past-Hufflepuff’s face disappeared and was replaced with a vacant expression, her eyes fixated on the distance as if her mind were elsewhere.  

As if he could sense her grief, he squeezed her hand and brought her attention back to him. “Thank you for trying to find a cure,” he said. “But I fear that this can not be solved.” 

Past-Hufflepuff clenched her jaw as she willed the tears away. Though she wanted nothing more than to start bawling in tears, she wanted to stay strong for him. 

He sighed wistfully. “If only I could be there to see your reaction at the lantern light festival.” It was a tradition in Endiac for the citizens to hold festivals and celebrate to express their gratitude for the king or queen. “It’s a marvelous sight, and I know you will enjoy it.” 

He suddenly coughed, his entire body jolting as the sickness racked through his chest. After a while, it calmed down and he laid against the pillow, exhausted. 

She shook her head in sorrow. “I…” Her words caught in her throat and she let her head drop. “Please don’t leave me,” she said in a broken whisper, tears welling up in her eyes. “I need you, Endiac needs you.” 

He pulled her into a hug as she wept. She rested her cheek against his shoulder, trying to remember his warmth, his light, his presence. 

“On the contrary, dear, they have you,” he consoled. “I wish I wasn’t leaving like this, especially when I still have much to teach you. But you shall learn them on your own in due time. I know that you will be a wonderful queen—and don’t think otherwise.” He pulled her back so that she looked at him. “I have faith in you, Hufflepuff. You will be a kind and benevolent ruler, but you will also be stoic and stern. Keep your chin up, my child.” He smiled reassuringly and leaned forward to press a kiss against her forehead. 

“You were always destined to be Queen.”  

Hufflepuff was abruptly pulled away from the flashback. She opened her eyes and felt the familiar pressure against her collarbone. She was back to where she was before—stuck in a chokehold. 

She thought about what Renaud had said to her: “When will you learn that you’re just a pathetic little princess?” 

With a fresh boost of empowerment from the memory, she tore off the padding that covered his arm and dug her nails into his skin with newfound energy. The pain was enough for him to loosen his grip, and she took a grateful gasp of air. 

“You’re wrong,” she wheezed before elbowing him in the gut. He made an oomph! sound and doubled over, clutching his stomach. “I’m a queen.”

She picked up Slytherin’s dagger from the floor and ambled closer, kicking away the weapon that laid beside him before he could reach for it. He frantically stood up and snatched the knife that was strapped to the side of his tunic. 

When he raised his hand to strike, she sidestepped and blocked her arm with his, their limbs forming an ‘X’. She pushed her arm over and under his in a full circular motion. In doing so, she trapped his arm against his collarbone, the edge of her weapon pressed against his neck. Her unrelenting stare was fixated on his every struggle, the pressure of the blade on his skin threatening to cut into his flesh at any moment. 

It wasn’t the dagger that made Renaud freeze. 

It flowed deeper than blood and higher than breath, engraved in her bones and carved on her lungs. The power that Hufflepuff was radiating made it seem as if the entire world was holding its breath, waiting to see what she did next. This was a queen, wholly and truly—and a queen who has had enough. 

“Now be done with all this deceitful nonsense,” she ordered sharply. “You will sign a treaty and swear on an oath that no harm will ever come to Endiac from your kingdom ever again. It is time to unite our nations once and for all.”

“And if I refuse to sign?”

“Then you shall see my less merciful side.”

 “You wouldn’t hurt a fly.” he sneered. “Let alone kill a man.” 

“Perhaps not.” She spun them around so that they faced Slytherin, who had released herself from the bounds by using the knife that she had left behind. “But she probably would.” 

Hufflepuff knocked the knife out of his hand and shoved him forwards. He fell to the floor. “Shall we find out?” 

When Slytherin walked towards him with sharp eyes that seared straight into his skull, he scrambled back and raised his hands in defeat. “Alright,” he relented. “You have my word.” 

“Call for a conference with the other kingdoms,” Slytherin instructed. “We will all gather in Endiac tomorrow to discuss what has come of this day.”  

His brows knitted in a frown. The other rulers would likely force him off the throne if they found out what he had done. Perhaps he could form a plan to stall the meeting before it was too late. However, one look at Slytherin, who was staring at him darkly, and he put those thoughts to rest immediately. 

“I’ll get right to it, Your Majesties.” 

Renaud rushed to his desk to craft a new accord that would bring the promise of peaceful beginnings between Endiac and Goulrich. 

Hufflepuff glanced at her companion with a warm smile and touched her arm, leading her towards the table. “Come,” she said. “Let’s consider what we shall write in the treaty with him.”

Slytherin faltered. “I’m not sure if I’m qualified to discuss such important matters…” 

“You have every right to be involved in this discussion as I have,” she assured. “And I know that you will have some wonderful ideas that will help our kingdom.” 

The subtle upward quirk of her mouth replaced the hesitant expression. Our. A blush spread across her cheeks, and she cleared her throat before nodding. She stepped to the side and bent forward with a dramatic gesture. “After you.”   

Hufflepuff hummed softly, a sparkle in her eyes. “Thank you,” she curtsied. 

A few hours later, they walked through the front doors and stepped outside, the newly-made treaty resting safely in Hufflepuff’s bag. The world had finally awoken, the rays of light shining down like intricately woven threads of gold. It was exceptionally beautiful today. Glorious shades of orange and red seeped over the horizon as if they were poured from molten lava. 

The sun’s rays came as nature's easel, giving brilliant color to what was hidden under the passing starlit night. The bright beauty cast flying hippogriffs into dark shadows against the sky. Their wings beat, hugging the air as they drifted on unseen thermals. They captured Slytherin’s eye for a few moments, keeping her spun into some sort of daydream. She felt someone looking at her and glanced to the side, her broad smile widening when she met Hufflepuff’s gaze. It was peaceful to just exist for once and not have to worry about the next enemy to fight. They stood side by side, just living and breathing with no goal other than to just be. 

They could get used to this: being happy, being together, being happy and together. And they would—because they had all the time in the world. 

“Right then,” Slytherin said with glowing eyes. “Where shall we go now?” 

Hufflepuff smiled and looked into the distance. 

“Home.”  

The council members were going over ideas on how to reunite the kingdoms. They wondered where the Queen was, for she left the castle yesterday and had not been seen since. Suddenly, the light streaming from the window disappeared, leaving the room in complete darkness for a brief moment. 

They looked at each other in confusion before their attention turned to the sudden cheering that could be heard from outside. 

“What in the heavens is that,” one of them asked, walking to the window. Her face suddenly paled and one of the other council members questioned her before going to see what the commotion was about. He stared, slack-jawed. 

A dragon was perched on the main courtyard of the kingdom with a surrounding crowd. “Alert the guards,” the councilman shouted frantically. “There’s a dragon out there and it must be killed!” He pressed his face against the window, his eyes widening in fear once again as he stared at the fearsome creature. “It’s gonna eat all the citizens!” 

“There’s no need to get hysterical,” the fairies called out, entering the room with smiles on their faces. The purple fairy gestured to the councilman to take another look. He furrowed his eyebrows in confusion before squinting at the dragon once again. Perched on the back of the dragon was Queen Hufflepuff, who didn’t look the least bit terrified of the creature. His jaw dropped again. 

The purple fairy stifled a laugh before clasping her hands together. “Come along now, we must greet our Queen. It’s time to rejoice at her return, yes?” 

The councilman looked at her in bewilderment. “But the threat of war is still upon us, we can not celebrate until—” 

A messenger suddenly burst into the room. “Forgive my intrusion,” the girl said firmly. “But I have urgent news from King Renaud.” 

His face paled and he wrung his hands in worry. “Oh, he has probably sent word that his troops are coming or—or his army is going to invade the castle any moment now!” 

“Actually, the king has requested a conference with all the kingdoms, including Endiac, to discuss matters of peace.”  

The councilman’s jaw dropped for the third time that day.

Soon after, the dragon became the protector of Endiac, occasionally appearing when there was trouble. Despite the fact that the creature was on their side, it was difficult for everyone to warm up to the beast at first. 

One day, a villager trudged to a nearby creek with a wash bin. When she arrived, she nearly screamed and covered her mouth in shock. The basket dropped, clothes spilling out onto the dirt. A child stood before the dragon that she had heard about but never seen before. Their sizes were drastically different, for the massive creature loomed over the small boy. His hand was raised, his soft flesh inches away from its snout. 

The woman was about to run back to the village and call for help, but what happened next stopped her in her tracks. Instead of chomping down on the boy’s hand as she had expected, the dragon slowly leaned into his touch. 

A toothy grin spreading across his face, the pleasantly surprised boy smoothed his fingers across the small bumps that were scattered across its face. His tiny hands looked sweet and comical against the vast surface of smooth scales. 

“Draugin,” the boy exclaimed in delight. “Draugin!!” 

She noticed something and edged closer. Was the ‘draugin’…smiling? “What in the heavens,” she whispered in wonder. 

The creature suddenly swerved its head and looked right at her. It immediately backed away from the boy and took flight, its wings creating a torrent of wind as it flew towards the castle. She stared at the fading dot of the dragon for a moment before checking in on the boy, who was unscathed. 

The woman spread the word of what she saw that day. At first, no one believed her. However, a man from another village encountered something similar when he was exploring the forest and saw the dragon shooting sparks of fire into the air next to a girl who clapped and cooed at the pretty display—and another villager did too, and so did another one, and another one, and so on. Soon, everyone realized that the supposedly fearsome beast wasn’t so bad after all. The citizens of Endiac had come to treat the dragon as its own. 

Besides that, there weren’t any disputes of opposition to Queen Hufflepuff’s place on the throne. For one, no one wanted to be met with a fiery death by the hand, or should I say claw, of the dragon, who seemed awfully protective of her. Second, nobody desired to overthrow the queen, for she was considered one of the greatest rulers of her time. 

 Hufflepuff commanded rooms and people alike with simple words. She carried her gentleness as an asset and not a burden, but didn’t shy from firmness. It was as if she were always destined to be Queen. 

A woman by the name of Slytherin was appointed as Hufflepuff’s second-in-command. Everyone loved her, for she was quite charming and knew how to engage someone in a fun conversation. She visited the villagers and explored their markets when she had the chance. The footpaths were often crowded with stalls selling sacks of nuts and dried fruit, or meat roasting on roasting skewers. Rich and unfamiliar scents cut through the air, so heavy she could taste them in her mouth. She always drifted to the sweets section, her eyes gleaming at the array of desserts that ranged from treacle tarts to cauldron cakes. Not only that, but she examined their inventions and creations, expressing her fascination whenever she saw something new or interesting. 

“So,” Slytherin pondered, engrossed in a painting. “These are two pretty best friends?”

“No, Your Grace, there can never be two pretty best friends,” a citizen explained, pointing at a figure in the portrait. “One of them has got to be ugly.” 

Hufflepuff and Slytherin were leaning against the railing of the balcony that overlooked the kingdom. Night had fallen, but their surroundings were lit with festivities to celebrate the rule of their benevolent queen. 

Hufflepuff gazed upon floating orbs of gold that danced and twirled in the air. Lanterns were illuminated like stars across the inky black sky. Those on the water merged with the reflections of those in the heavens, creating an unearthly experience. Her father was right. This was a marvelous sight indeed. 

Slytherin watched as some of the villagers play around with magic. She smiled pleasantly when green sparks flew from the tips of their wands. Feeling a pair of eyes on her, she turned to the side, capturing Hufflepuff’s warm gaze with her own. “Is something wrong, my sweet,” she asked softly, clasping their hands together. 

Hufflepuff merely shook her head and wrapped her arms around her waist. “Nothing at all, love. It’s just…” 

She let out a hum of amusement before pressing their foreheads together. “A queen and a dragon. Who would’ve thought,” she said softly, smiling like the sun, and Slytherin felt as if she fell just as hard as she had years earlier. 

Her gaze softened as she thought about the day she met Hufflepuff, the moment when green met brown, the instant when their worlds collided. Her heart swelled with affection as she thanked her lucky stars that she met her wife on that fateful day. 

She leaned in for a kiss and the world fell away. It was slow and soft, comforting in ways that words would never be. She finally pulled away and brushed her nose against Hufflepuff’s.

Slytherin rested her hand below her ear, their breaths mingling as her thumb caressed her cheek.

“Even fate picks its favorites sometimes.” 

MASTERLIST (ง ͠° ͟ل͜ ͡°)ง << (sometimes links don’t work for some reason; if you can’t see it, just go to my profile. there, you shall find my masterlist, which is the pinned post.) 

Let me know how you felt about the fic! I welcome your glorious keysmashes, incoherent thoughts, screeches of happiness, or a simple “oh my gucci gumdrops.” comment--basically anything! I ALSO APPRECIATE THOSE LUSCIOUS REBLOGS! 

PARTIALLY BASED ON THIS LITTLE SNIPPET << 

here is link in case the clickable link is not working: 

https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/8kvv8t/wp_nobody_dared_go_near_the_tower_as_a_fearsome/

AUTHOR’S NOTE:  ***Includes deleted scenes, memes, analysis of scenes, updates on blog/life, and all kinds of fun stuff***

(this story was originally supposed to be posted on Thanksgiving but then I didn’t finish, so I will just leave what I had originally written for the author’s note on Thanksgiving. basically the text outside the parenthesis is what i wrote for thanksgiving, which was a month ago. however, I will still write more.) 

HI!! Hoped you love that because I love all of you dearly. OK HERE WE GO W THE LONG AUTHORS NOTE;it is a little disorganized and you will get whiplash from how fast i change topics: 

First of all, today is thanksgiving (bruh not anymore -current jessica) but fuck that tbh. At first i was excited about this holiday because my family celebrates and its a chance for me to give thanks to special people. this day is supposed to give “warm” and “happy” feelings; in truth, colonists are bitches, Christopher Columbus is a very terrible person who commited mass genoicides, so this is a shitty holiday because colonists created it to mask all the destruction that they caused. Despite this god forsaken day, i would like to give my thanks to you all for being spectacular and amazing, because i hit 600 followers a while ago; does anyone remember that? Its kinda embarrassing how i was like “yall know what that means” and then i proceeded to not post a fanfic until weeks later (hi everyone, this is the current jessica and i am here to laugh at myself because the past me did NOT know that i would be posting this a MONTH LATER). Nevertheless im here now so hi! :D did anyone think i wasnt gonna post a fanfic for november? Granted, it was definitely much later than i would have normally posted; usually i post the monthly fanfic at the beginning of the year, but i was busy with school and college stuff. 

it is likely that i will not be posting a fanfic for december because thats the most important month in terms of college stuff. If i get it done early, i will write bc i am essentially free from all the college stuff, and by then, i will explode with happiness and have time to write! 

lmaoaoao this is me whenever someone is like, when are you gonna finish part 2 of cheater or update the slytherpuff series? 

(hello this is the current jessica again and i have another meme that represents my sporadic writing style: 

me on thanksgiving: hi everyone haha im posting the fanfic in 10 min!!!

me on new year’s eve: hey.....how y’all doin.... (if you get that reference, i love you) 

ok bye continue reading what the past me said. actually u know what, lets talk some smack about her, i secretly despise her, lmk how u feel about the past jessica like omg girl just shut up--LMAO IM KIDDING) 

This fanfic used to be a fairytale that I wrote for english class last year. I changed the names and the ending. It is quite different now! the old ending is funny and weird because we were supposed to hint at a larger lesson in life, and i chose “dont judge a book by its cover”. i guess that does apply to the changed story now because huff didn't think that sly was as scary as her appearance made her out to be. 

---------

ok hi AGAIN this is current jessica. the past me said that if anyone wants to see the original fairytale, comment and lmk and i shall post it as a reblog to this post. however i decided to just include it right here, right now: 

“Once upon a time, there was a lovely princess named Liesel who lived with her family in a glorious castle on the top of the hill that overlooked the entire kingdom. Her father, King Aeneas, ruled over the subjects of Endiac, a lush land that stretched for miles and was full of magical creatures. Everyone loved the royal family and lived in harmony with the neighboring kingdoms. The subjects especially loved Princess Liesel, who was as generous as a fairy and as beautiful as a unicorn. Everyone lived happily under the reign of King Aeneas and his family. 

All was peaceful in Endiac until King Aeneas fell terribly ill. Everyone grew anxious for his recovery, especially Princess Liesel. Kneeling next to her father on his bedside, Liesel called to the fairies and cried, “Please help my father get better. The kingdom will surely collapse without him!” However, the fairies did not know of any cure for the king’s strange illness. All the magical herbs they had given to him did nothing to help his condition. By nightfall, the subjects were devastated to hear that King Aeneas had passed away. 

When Liesel was crowned Queen, chaos reigned the once beloved kingdom. Immediately after neighboring kingdoms received word that King Aeneas died, they declared war on Endiac and vowed to overthrow the Queen because a girl couldn’t possibly lead a kingdom. Liesel quickly called the fairies and asked them what she should do. 

The purple fairy exclaimed, “You need to show them that you’re strong enough to lead the kingdom!” and poofed a scroll into Liesel’s hand. “There’s a dragon that lives near Endiac. It is supposedly so fearsome that no one dares to go near it!”

Liesel looked at the fairy in fear and shook her head. “And what am I supposed to do with that delightful piece of information?”

“You must defeat the dragon to show the kingdom that you’re strong enough to lead the people!”

Liesel was about to object but the pink fairy sprinkled courage dust around her, transforming Liesel into a brave knight.

“You’re absolutely right! I must defeat this dragon and prove that I can lead my kingdom!” Liesel exclaimed, marching out of the room and towards her destiny. When Liesel finally got to the dragon’s nest, the courage dust wore off and she looked around in confusion.

“Where am I?” she asked. Liesel slowly looked up, only to find two enormous green eyes staring back. She thought that she was gonna become the dragon’s meal for sure, but something surprising happened.

The dragon suddenly smiled and said, “Hello, how do you do? You’re the first visitor I’ve ever had! I get quite lonely sometimes.”

Liesel stopped cowering in fear. “You’re not gonna eat me,” she asked.

The dragon said in bewilderment, “Of course not, I’m a vegan!” 

Liesel shook her head in disbelief and exclaimed, “But you’re the fearsome dragon that everyone talks about!” 

The dragon exploded with booming laughter. “Yes, some dragons tell me I can be quite intimidating. But you shouldn’t judge a book by it’s cover! It’s quite rude.” 

Liesel apologized and had a long talk with the dragon about everything that’s been going on. The dragon happened to have a very good solution that would help both of them. 

A little girl was playing with her toys when a big shadow flew over the kingdom. She looked up in surprise to see Queen Liesel riding the fearsome dragon that she’s always heard about.

Soon after, the dragon became the protector of Endiac and was lonely no longer. In fact, the dragon had a lot of fun giving the subjects a ride around the kingdom. As for Queen Liesel, no one dared to question her ability to rule the kingdom of Endiac. After all, anyone who was able to befriend a “fearsome” dragon was able to lead a kingdom.”

OK YEA THATS IT! i feel like maybe i was always destined to be a writer of some sort because when i was writing the original story that u just read (above), i wrote above the max pages that i was supposed to write for english class and i was desperate to write even more, so i emailed the teacher and was like CAN I DO SINGLE SPACE so that it frees up more space and i could write more and she said, “i think you know the answer to that” and i was like :( bc it meant i had to do doublespace. i am glad i went back to the story and changed it to what it is now. its kinda funny how it went from 3 pages double-spaced to about sixty pages on the google docs (which included the author’s note so the story that u are reading now is probably around 40 to 50 pages, which is still a lot). 

anyways back to the original author’s note: 

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“Aeneas” sounds like anus and i laughed about it yesterday bc im weird 

There were plenty of small things that didnt make much sense when you read the story for the first time. However, after you reread it, you pick up on stuff- like how slytherin reacted when she saw hufflepuff’s wand. you will realize later on that it was because of the witch who welded a similar-looking wand, which is explained later on. I remember reading this post that said that the best written works are the ones in which there are small hints and things to decipher. After you reread it, you pick up on the small clues, which makes it so much better because youre like oh damn why didnt i catch that before? I tried doing that- i started to continue writing it a few days ago; yesterday i stayed up until 1 am writing it but i bullshitted the ending bc i was very tired; i spent most of today changing the ending, then going back to the middle, changing and adding stuff, then rereading everything and editing anything that felt odd or needed something more of. i made sure to maneuver most of their conversation into answering questions that the reader had: why didnt sly use her wings to get off the bridge, how is sly a dragon, etc. 

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HELLO IT IS THE CURRENT JESSICA ONCE AGAIN! basically, i would like to add on to past jessica’s point above on how i went back and added more stuff. the reason why it took so long for me to write this and post it is because i added a lot more scenes, such as the part in which you meet Helia and read her backstory. that did not exist at all. there was no helia. however, i added it to emphasize on the idea of “fate” and how her father died and hufflepuff was destined to be queen now and meet slytherin. 

i also included the part with king renaud. he did not exist at all when i was ready to post for thanksgiving. however i decided to add that because the readers are left confused--theres a plot hole that must be filled! after all, the goulrich king sent his guards after hufflepuff to kill her. when i was looking over the fanfic weeks ago, i was like UH HELLO WTF DOES SHE DO ABOUT IT??? so i added that and i hated it. well i didnt hate it, but it was quite tedious to write. i have never known so much about swordfighting than i do now lamdihsdmsfi like oh my gosh i rlly did the most. i read articles and watched videos on people fighting with swords, daggers, etc. 

anyways, i knew that i would have to write a lot for the fight scene between hufflepuff and renaud. it had to be more compared to that with the guards, bc this is the KING. the fight will be more intense. huff will struggle more, etc. i got stuck on that part and was agitated because its just hard trying to learn all the different moves and write about it and try to engage the reader while doing all of that bc i didnt wanna drone on and on about them fighting, like “she smacked him. he blocked and stabbed her arm.” i wanted to be like OO SHE DID THIS BUT HE DID THAT AND THEN SHE SAID SOMETHING COOL AND HE RETORTED WITH SOMETHING ELSE, ETC. 

other scenes that i added were the flashback with the dad and when hufflepuff asks slytherin to stay in endiac. in the fic that was going to be posted on thanskgiving, there was none of that. instead, as you saw near the end, it indicated that slytherin was staying at endiac, but there was NO DISCUSSION OF IT. DO U SEE THE PLOTHOLE?! i sure did. there were many scattered throughout the story. not only that, but sometimes more is better. for instance, i also added the scene in which the citizens start liking the dragon. i wanted to show how glorious and fun slytherin is. 

i also added the part where hufflepuff chooses to stay and fight francis after slytherin told her to run when they caught her at the grassyfield place. in the original, hufflepuff just runs. AND I DID NOT LIKE THAT! i was like bruh why did i do that, i should change it so that hufflepuff stays bc before she was feeling guilty and now sly is telling her to run AGAIN and she just... does??!?!? so i decided to write even more and make her fight someone, who led to more research and more time used in writing, hence the delay. its kinda funny tho like 

sly: run hufflepuff!

huff: ok 

sly: WAIT COME BACK I DIDNT MEAN IT-- 

hahaahdhahah ok anyways it was funny in the scene where it said, “slytherin was hufflepuff’s second-in-command”. u know those stories in the faraway past in which there were two women who lived together and never married and shared a bed and people were like, “awww they were best friends!”; yea that reminds me of “she was her second-in-command” like hahahdsj yea sure ok 

also if u reread the story, u will notice some connections, like how huff’s dad said “u were destined to be queen” and now that huff is ruling over the kingdom, it said that she was a wonderful queen and it was as if she were always destined to be queen. also there is a connection between the scenes in which renaud was choking hufflepuff and the story said “oh if only she had more time” as in “shes gonna die soon, she will never know what it was like to spend time w sly or just live life” but after the battle was over and everything was good again, the story implied “and they would--because they had all the time in the world”. ISNT THAT SO SWEET!!! i also loveeee the ending, because throughout the fic, it emphasized the idea of fate and the line “even fate picks its favorites” is very heartwarming.

finally lets discuss slytherin at the end of the story. i guess some people might be wondering, arent the people of endiac confused when they saw slytherin? shes famous and is technically supposed to be dead bc she was from a while ago (i didnt add a specific time thing, like i didnt say “oh she lived hundreds of years ago” because i dont care, its up to the reader or whatever, i just felt like it was unnecessary to include). anyways yea ppl might be confused, because renaud and his guards did recognize slytherin, so whats gonna happen with that? well there was no implication that hufflepuff recognized slytherin immediately or knew of her past, so lets just say that slytherin lived in a faraway kingdom to the point where people in endiac never really heard of her famous knighthood shenanigans, as in its not very widespread like people in endiac arent making a huge deal out of it. besides that, lets think of Endiac as the “Hufflepuff of Kingdoms” if that makes sense. king aeneas was known to be amazing and generous and kind, and so is hufflepuff, and overall everyone loves them, which connects to how people feel about hufflepuffs. thus, when people realize that it is slytherin wildhorn who is with them, they wont judge her or be like WHAT IN THE WORLD WTF, theyll be chill and be like cool! or ok nice to meet u gorl! 

anyways thats all for now. toodles from current jessica and back to past j

_______

Also YESSS MY FIRST LGBT+ FANFIC!!!! I fucking loved writing this, it was so glorious and lovely. The reason why im suddenly mentioning this is because i gave a hint on hufflepuff’s sexuality when the councilman was like hey marry the prince and she was like NAH 

Hufflepuff when she saw slytherin: 

It was just a tad bit difficult to use “she/her” pronouns for both of them because i had to decipher who was saying what. an example of how it was difficult is “she put her hand over hers” and stuff like that. Hopefully you werent too confused in some moments, i rlly tried my best to make it flow well. however i dont wanna sound like im complaining, there is absolutely nothing wrong w that and this will certainly not be the only LGBT+ story i write. Gosh i kept writing straight couple fanfics and i felt iffy about it bc representation and diversity in writing is important to me. 

also FUCK YES LETS ALL STAN THE FAIRIES!!! i tried to hint that they knew all along what was gonna happen. i showed my sister the fanfic before posting it and when she read the ominous moment when the fairy was like “hufflepuff will meet her fate soon enough”, she was like are the fairies gonna be evil?... and i didnt answer and looked at her like 

and she was like ok yea the fairies are probably gonna be evil 

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hi its me again. im gonna start the section for bonus scenes bc i am sure that many of you are excited for that. also the past me did not intend on having a section for that, but since i deleted some scenes, i will do that now: 

“Many subjects gathered around a mural for Hufflepuff and bestowed gifts before her statue, thankful to be under her benevolent reign. As more people came to give thanks to their queen, someone questioned her marital status. “I dont think she ever married,” a man spoke up. 

“That’s a shame,” another subject sighed, looking up at the statue. “She’s quite beautiful. I don’t understand why a king hasn’t asked for her hand in marriage.” 

Little did they know that the queen had indeed found true love, her heart in the hands of a courageous being with strikingly green eyes that glowed with warmth and affection for a special someone.”

I decided to delete this at the end because lets not make the citizens ignorant and heteronormative.................. it just wasnt necessary and didnt feel right so i deleted. 

Slytherin scrunched her nose as she recalled the event. “I thought I had successfully defeated all of them, but I turned my back too soon.” She bitterly shook her head at the mistake. “I should’ve just killed them where they stood.” 

Hufflepuff squeezed her hand gently and assured her that she was proud of her regardless of that. “If it weren’t for you, I’d be dead right now.” She frowned as she thought back to what had happened a few moments ago. “I didn’t know you could turn back into a dragon.” 

I deleted this, which was originally supposed to be the part when sly saves huff from falling. after the rescue, she originally said this but i deleted it bc it doesnt flow well. basically when they land safely on the ground, huff asks “what happened before, how did they capture you after i left?” and that is slytherins reply. at first i had written that to indicate what happened bc readers are like, “wait what i thought sly was a badass, how did they defeat her?” but then i deleted it. imagine if you just fell from a cliff and ur friend rescued you and immediately youre like “sooooo about that thing from before..” instead of asking “DUDE HOW DID U TURN INTO A DRAGON?!?!” thus, i changed it so that huff was like wait bruv how are u a dragon?   

She also loved spinning tales when they all gathered around the campfire, and told them about adventures concerning dragons and creatures alike. Some of the neighboring kingdoms thought her to be unusual, but they didn’t dare to mock her. No one wanted to mess with her after watching her train some soldiers in the courtyard. 

i deleted this scene in which it discusses what slytherin’s life is like now (i.e. the part in which she talks to the villagers and visits them and tries new stuff. ALSO WAIT HOLD UP CAN WE TALK ABOUT THE TWO PRETTY BEST FRIENDS THING BC I HAVE NEVER LAUGHED SO HARD IN THE ENTIRE LIFE WHEN I THOUGHT OF THAT. HEY G UR PROBABLY READING THIS RN AND U KNOW IM REFERRING TO U BC SOMETIMES I CALL U G, THIS IS THE PART THAT I TOLD U ABOUT, I TOLD U THAT U WOULD UNDERSTAND IMMEDIATELY THAT IT WAS THE JOKE I TOLD U VIA INSTA LMAOAO!! the idea sprung to me in the morning and every time i thought about it, i just started cackling, like full on.) ok anways yea i just deleted the scene bc it was unnecessary and i felt like ending it off with the joke was fine and funny

ok thats all the deleted scenes. 

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NOW ITS TIME FOR ANALYSIS: 

“Slytherin had a pleasant smile as she watched some of her subjects play around with magic, green swirls sparkling from the tips of their wands.” This is an indication that she is ok with her past now. 

“If you need forgiveness, I’ll give that to you. You’re forgiven, okay?” Does anyone watch The 100? If so, this is a bellarke reference!  

“The forest? That would be too dangerous, seeing as how there were plenty of dangerous people who roamed throughout the woods, looking for an easy target.” This was hint of what was about to happen in regards to the bad men who wanted to kill huff, being that they emerged from the forest. 

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hi its me again, i am including more analysis for the new scenes that i implemented after the past authors note: 

“With a heavy heart, she prepared for the long journey ahead.” This is not just a reference to the horse ride back to the castle, but for the actual journey concerning hufflepuff’s growth as a person and queen and confidence

“Is something wrong, my sweet,” she asked softly, clasping their hands together.” it is lovely to see how slytherin addresses hufflepuff compared to then and now, from Your Majesty to My Sweet. AINT THAT CUTEEE:)) 

__________

This is an image that represents how i imagined the cliff looked like:

Fyi, while i was editing stuff, i went back to the middle and added some dialogue for hufflepuff so that she sounds like a really good friend and a great person who kept comforting sly when she was sad about her past. It shows that theyre compatible for each other! Its also a classic slytherpuff dynamic in which sly is a badass who will fight anyone to the death if they harm hufflepuff. Also can we just appreciate slytherin whos a total badass??? The “woman” part was fucking POWERFUL!! I loved writing her, shes one of my favorite characters bc shes a fucking badass like YES SHE DID THAT!!!!  

Me while i was writing slytherin fighting the bad guys: 

Hufflepuff when Slytherin said “This’ll be fun” before she fought the men:

slytherin watching hufflepuff fight renaud and say “im a queen”:

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me again with new meme: 

Renaud staring at slytherin and hufflepuff flirt with each other in that scene when she bowed and was like AFTER U while hes trying to write the treaty: 

lowkey i just wanted to write,

“no you go ahead” “no u go, ur a queen” “no u should go, ur a wonderful soldier” “no i insist” “no *i* insist” “ok bitch can u shut the fuck up and just go-”

______

i asked my sister what she thought about this sentence: ““But this wasn’t the first time that happened, was it, Slytherin Wildhorn?” (original version before changed) and I felt iffy about it because there seemed to be too many commas, and I asked if it were grammatically correct. She changed it to ““But this wasn’t the first time that happened... was it, Slytherin Wildhorn?” and i legit started screaming and i said OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO and she said OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO and our voices synced up and it was just so chaotic and funny  

This is for all of you for 600!! Thank you very much, i definitely have more than 600 now because its been a while since i hit that mark but i still wanna say thanks very very much!! Love you muchooooo<3 

Ok, onto stuff that ISNT related to this fanfic: For the original slytherpuff series, I took out most of the smut and moved it to another big series. its weird to have the smut in the original series, because it would take place during their 7th year- huff and sly would be 18, which is still eh. Its unrealistic and very typical in american movies and the media. It sets up very unrealistic expectations, and some people feel bad when they havent had their first kiss yet when theyre in college, and i do NOT wanna promote that image in my fanfiction. I always felt iffy about it because they would technically be like seniors in high school, and not everyone has sex during that time, and that is often forced onto people through the media in movies, like OO IM HAVING SEX!! IM 17 AND IM HAVING SEX, WBU BITCH?? Bruh um no thank you. I felt SO much better when i moved it to the other series, bc in that series, theyre gonna be 18+

As implied in the previous paragraph, I made a new series that I had for a while but never really expanded the plot very much. i added a ton of details (from 4 to 18 pages in a span of 2 days- my creative juices reserved for writing were overspilling because i usually use those brain cells to write in the beginning of a month, but since i didnt, i just suddenly started writing a lot). in this series, huff and sly will be older like 19 or 20. I am so excited to write it, i probably wont write it for a long time bc i want to finish the first series first and idk when that will be bc its quite long

It will actually have a plot like a series of events. meanwhile the current series- after a certain point- will be fluff and not necessarily contribute to the plot bc theres theoretically no plot. thats how it resonates w the title “Slytherin x hufflepuff relationship” because its just about their relationship. there is no genuine plot except for their journey to relationship. After they actually get together, it will just be lots of fluff and rare indication of smut at all- it reminds me of headcannons or oneshots but i will not do that bc it is nice to know tht the fluff happened to this huff and sly couple specifically! The fluff is in terms of meeting parents, baking, rainy day, stuff like that 

For the new series, u will be on your tippy toes, every chapter has a reason. meanwhile, current will be fun and sweet. 

I think i have said this before but im saying it again: IM NOT CHANGING NAMES FOR CURRENT SERIES, I DONT LIKE ORIGINAL CHARACTERS AT ALL!! People know who huff and sly are, readers can replace the names with other characters or put themselves into the situation 

To conclude, I love you all very very much. Be sure to comment how you felt about this and reblog are very very appreciated. Thank you and see you laterrrrrrrr<3!!!!   

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OK HI FINALLY THAT IS ALL I WROTE FOR THE THANKSGIVING AUTHORS NOTE. whenever i did “_______” that meant that i was adding something new, as you could probably tell bc i reminded you every 5 seconds. whenever i had something new that related to the previous author’s note, like the meme section or analysis section, i did the line thing so that i could add to it. ok anywayssss i have MORE stuff to add. 

i am donezo with college stuff, literally done with ALL of it. i thought this day would never come but i am here now and it is january and i am absolutely free and ecstatic!! that means i will start preparing to write chapter 4 of the ICONIC slytherpuff series :D and get started on other works as well. 

however, i would like to address something important. i am going to copy and paste something that i put in that long google docs where i had written this fic and had the author’s note and everything. i pasted this a while ago (i wrote it a day after thanksgiving i think) from a chat with a friend bc i wanted to let yall see it (its like a life update mixed with a writing update thing): 

“yesterday i stayed up until 4 am to do the tag list and it took me 4 hrs to do because i was trying to erase the people who wasn’t active or weren’t liking my fanfics because i usually put every follower on the tag list and it’s like 650 ppl but less than 250 liking the fanfics and it takes a lot of time to press each individual tag to choose who it is so i tried to do that but it was very annoying like i was using this website and it was not gucci for instance i put in all the names of the followers along w the names of ppl who liked every fanfic and it also included their name itself like mine is Jessica with that loki symbol urs is about george weasley i think so it was just messy and i had finally got it all to work when i combined two websites and used both of them but it was so frijcin annoying like at around 2 i thought i got an accurate list of ppl who were active but then i realized that some ppl weren’t on there like u or this other girl who likes many of the fanfics so i knew it was wrong but basically yea i stayed up late to do that stuff and then i was working on it this morning and i thought i would be posting it but then i thought of two new scenes and my mom wanted us to walk around the park but i said wait bc i wanted to finish and we ended up not going bc i took a nap at around 4 or soemthing bc i guess i was tired i felt very bad for delaying my family’s trip for the sake of the fanfic and i find myself always doing that like not going to eat dinner or hanging w my sister bc i need to write Anyways, when i woke up after staying up until 4 am, i talked to my sister and said that there was an imbalance of reblogs and likes and i’ve seen lots of posts talking about the importance of reblogs and when i was doing all of that yesterday like making the tag list, i noticed a constant number of reblogs among the fanfics it was usually around 20 while the likes were in the 200s and i was telling my sis about that and i was upset bc reblogs are important and it’s the least that ppl could do bc i’m writing all of that stuff and reblogs help push up the algorithm. however she said that at the end of the day, the reblogs will remain constant because i can’t force anyone to reblog. they’ll only reblog if they rlly like it and they don’t care enough to reblog and that hurt but she was right; she said she understands because she’s in a publishing company rn and so she understands why ppl wouldn’t reblog bc in publishing, they choose which books will become available to the public which is kinda like how ppl choose to reblog what they want to anways she told me “it sounds like ur always doing stuff for them. it’s always them then them, never you. YOU stayed up until 4 am to do the tag list, they didn’t ask for that, but u did. you’re the one doing all this stuff and it’s always for them, not for u. this is UR writing, so u should just do it for urself bc if u only write for them, then it’s just no good because you need to love writing to be able to keep doing it” and she was absolutely right. if i keep thinking about what other people think and what other ppl need instead of thinking of myself, it would not be good. i should be allowing myself to rest and actually enjoy writing instead of forcing myself to so i was thinking about all of that before i took the nap and by that time i was just exhausted because i spent most of the day working on the fanfic and i was like wow jessica ur spending ANOTHER day on this?? and i had been working on this fight scene with swords and i was doing the most, like watching videos of ppl fighting, reading articles about techniques, etc. i just got sad bc i was like there u go again, not caring about urself and just putting all ur energy into making other people happy while ignoring ur own needs and so i closed the computer and laid down and i cried a little because i was like no one even cares about you so why are u putting so much effort into making them happy?? and then i thought about getting back up and letting you and giselle know that i’m probably gonna post the fanfic tomorrow but then i felt rlly anxious because i wanted to say “sorry!! posting it tomorrow” and i got angry at myself because i was doing it again, it was as if i owe it to everyone that i must post the fanfic. i realized i don’t need to be apologetic or explain myself because i’m still gonna be posting the fanfic, but i’m gonna do it on my own time so that i’m not forcing myself to get things done and so i talked to my sister again after i woke up and i said that i read this post once about how writing fan fiction shouldn’t only be about the likes and reblogs bc if i’m doing everything for everyone else, then i’m probably not enjoying it because i’m just doing it for them, not myself. i realized that i should write because i love writing itself so i decided that i’m gonna write whenever i went and go at a good pace for myself instead of making monthly fanfics, though i’m sure i will still post monthly because every month i get a burst of energy to write and also fuxk that dumbass tag list i’m not gonna do it again only tagging the people who actually asked so this i will learn to love writing more so that i can continue writing in the future”

i have changed greatly and i am different from how i was in november. i know this because i remembered that on thanksgiving, i was primarily focused on writing the fic instead of spending time with family. on christmas (a few days ago), i had wanted to finish writing by that time to post for the holiday but i realized i would not be able to post it in time. instead of working on the fic on christmas to get it done, i decided to put it aside and be with my family and friends--and i am very glad and proud of myself for doing that! as a person who is very empathic and is always very wrapped up with giving and receiving love from others, i find myself putting others before myself, which is not healthy. i am learning to take a step back and see the bigger picture: this is my blog, and for a while it felt like it was controlling me but in reality i was just forcing myself to do stuff that i didnt wanna do but i did it for the sake of other people. this is demonstrated in my desire to write during holidays so that readers will be happy instead of just relaxing and doing stuff that i actually wanna be doing like being w my fam. dont get me wrong, i do like writing! however, these tendencies to just write and write and write get extreme sometimes. but on christmas, i had a very wonderful time and have learned a lot about myself and loving myself and putting my own wellbeing first and just being chill with tumblr and this blog. 

i am done with college stuff, which means that i have less stress and worries. originally, i planned to use this time to write and produce works and go on a binge in which i just keep writing. however, i have decided that i am just gonna connect with my inner soul and being, and write when i want to. i usually post fanfics monthlybecause thats just how i work, so perhaps that will stay the same bc thats just how it is, OR maybe ill write even quicker and post more frequently. maybe ill just come and go. the moral of the story is that im doing me and im focusing on myself and thinking about what i want instead of trying to appease people all the time. in other words, i write when i want to! 

also, as some of you know, i am no longer doing incorrect quotes, which made up majority of my blog. basically i realized a couple of days ago that most of my followers probably come from the incorrect quotes. i got followers every day from those because they are easy and quick to produce, which helps me gain a big following. i decided to stop doing those posts all together bc i just want my blog to be one thing only, not fanfics AND incorrect quotes. the fact that the majority of people came to my blog for the incorrect quotes means that my fanfic attention has an indirect relationship to the incorrect quotes, so theres more attention going to those posts instead of the stories. if i just post fanfics from now on, i get less follower notifications everyday but thats ok bc when i just start posting fanfics, i will get a steady stream of followers from that and more people will be here for the fanfics instead of the incorrect quotes. i remember when i tagged 500 ppl for one of my stories and less than 200 interacted. i shouldnt have done that bc most of them were probably there for the incorrect quotes and some are bots or inactive, ofc. the tag list that i have now was generated from websites so theyre compiled of people who have interacted with ym stories at least twice so that i know theyre constant readers. 

OH WAIT ACTUALLY YES LETS TALK ABOUT YOU GUYS! 

happy new years, first of all! its 12:53 am rn but im not that tired. that terrible night (mentioned in those texts that i sent to my friend that u read from above), when i was trying to make a better taglist instead of just tagging all my followers, i noticed a repetition of some people’s usernames, which means that they interact a lot with my fanfics and i would like to give shout-outs and stuff. 

wait, before i do, i also wanna add a THANK YOU<3 to all those people who tagged me in those “happy new year, tag people who made 2020 gucci for u.” even tho i dont respond to those sometimes, i want you all to know that i see them!!! I DO! and i wanna say thank you so very much, it means a lot to me and i appreciate you sosososos much! theres a person who tagged me recently, i forgot their username but it started with “winter” and i think their pfp was a orange fox? so if ur reading this rn and think this is u, it probably is and i wanna say thank u and i love u and ur lovely!!!! OH WAIT HI OK I SAW THE USERNAME, ITS @writtenfoxscreams​ , THANK U!!! 

ok, back to the thanks, here we go: 

@luciferswife16 i love our mutual love for loki and i love ur asks, ur a very kind and amazing person and i like ur energy and ur so very wonderful and amazing 

@walkinganomaly i like u, ur nice and sweet and lvoely and i wanna hug u 

@mossy-axolotl AAAAAAA DUDE i searched up ur username but forgot it so i legit scrolled through all my posts to find an ask u sent to see ur username and i finally found it and i did all that bc i will never forget ur first ask in which u were sosososoo nice and i rlly didnt expect it bc no one was sending asks for a while and you were a sudden burst of fresh energy and I LOVE YOU DUDE. 

@eatacrackerandstop goodness gracious giselle i could type up a whole ass paragraph about you. you are one of my closest, if not one of the two top tippity top closest online friends ever and i legit can NOT express enough appreciation for you. thank you for being u, u are such an amazing person and u would probably drown in all my love and hearts. i am thankful for the smallest things, like how when you tag me in those ask challenge post thingies, you write my username first and thats legit so small and maybe im a little crazy for noticing that. its a small detail, yet i am so grateful and crying over that???? im not actually crying, but i would give u a big big BIG hug if i could <3 LOVE U LOTS! (inside joke hafudnsajdc do u get it gorl) oh wait also imma just mention, i would’ve put ur username first in my list of “THANK YOU”s but i was looking at my tag list and going through all the names from top to bottom so thats why i did not talk about u first and its kinda mean how i was liek THANK U FOR PUTTING ME FIRST but i ddint do the same for u. when i was writing stuff for mossy, i was like hmm why am i feeling a swell of appreciation, how about i direct the full force of it on GISELLE and it fired up and i was like hohoohohoho oh my gosh lemme write a BOOK about her and my happiness for our lovely friendship ok ok this is getting long ok bye 

@nevilletheplantboi​ girl u already know i love u dude we became close SO fast and i am not surprised because we are queens and we know this. since it is ur birthday coming up, i will not write as much of a paragraph as i want to rn bc i am saving all that love and energy into another time (aka writing a page for ur birthday lmaoaoa) ok just know i adore u gorl 

@autumnleaves​ hi, i wanted to say thank u for congratulating me on my college post thing, i didnt forget it but didnt reply bc i was doing stuff and i forgot to reply but i remembered now and THABNK TOU I LOVE U THAT WAS SO NICE!!

@trashpannda @x-whatsupdoc-x @another-witch @justanxiousme​ THANK U FOR UR SUPPORT, I NOTICED U FREQUENTLY DURING MY CREATION OF THE NEW TAG LIST AND I FUCKING LOVE U GUYS OH MY FRICKIN GOD 

@pond-waterr​ yess omg ur a big one! when i failed at creating a tag list and knew that it was a faulty one bc there were some people who i KNEW interacted a lot with my fanfics but their usernames didnt appear on the list, U WERE ONE OF THEM!! I LOVE YOU!!! THANK YOU :D 

@qixnsriess ur amazing, thank u very very much, ur special and i hope u have a great day 

ok there are definitely more people who have interacted me, and i apologize if i did not mention u. just know that on that day when i was making the tag list, i repeatedly saw ur username and thought in my cloud of sleepy despair bc i worked on it until 4 am and was practically breaking down bc i was frustrated and didnt understand how to make a good taglist, “gosh i love them, i am very appreciative”. LOVE U!  

this is goodbye for now!! let me know what you thought of the story, i soak in the feedback like its juice. that doesnt even make sense. its 1:15 am. i have stuff to do like update my masterlist. TOODELEOODOE   

[annoyedfanfiction]

Thorin x Reader

“No! No! No more dw–“ Bilbo stopped shouting as he opened the door, looking out at the girl in front of him. “Your ears!” He covered his mouth immediately, begging a flushed apology.

“No need, Master Baggins,” she laughed, ruffling his hair, “You said the same thing when you were a youngling. Not everyday you see a half-elf hobbit! Oh, how much you’ve grown! Now, are these dwarves causing trouble?”

“Wha-I’m terribly sorry, but who are you?” he asked, peering at her, curiously. She stood only a few inches taller than him – more than a head shorter than the others in the room.

“Oh, of course, you won’t remember me.” She offered her hand, with a warm, age-old smile. “Faëlisse. Friend and cousin of your mother’s.” That explained her Tookish grin then.

“I remember mother telling me stories about you,” Bilbo mused, sleepily, “I had no idea you were still alive – or half-elf! No offence, of course, its just, you must be older than her and she passed a long time ago.”

“None taken, Bilbo,” she smiled, sadly, Belladonna’s mischief dancing through her mind.

“Hogging our guest, Master Baggins?” Gandalf’s deep voice rumbled, above the two. “Gandalf, it has been so long since we saw one another,” she scolded, “It was time I caught up with Belladonna’s little one. And you know how rude it is to mark a Hobbit’s home!”

“Yes, yes, well–“ He paused, as she folded her arms, eyebrows flickering up. “My apologies, Master Bilbo.” The wizard turned, and the two Hobbits followed him into the kitchen. Silence fell as they entered, all eyes edging between the group in the doorway and the scowling dwarf at the head of the table. The dwarf placed his cutlery down, and looked up, eyeing Faëlisse from head to toe.

“Another Hobbit?” he asked Gandalf, exhaustedly, gesturing to her slight figure, “I thought you said she was a trained–“ The blade which pinned his sleeve to the wall cut him off, and every eye turned to her. The smaller, elderly dwarf grabbed his brother’s arm as he made to get up, shaking his head. His brother scowled, but returned to his seat.

“You, erm, seem to have a little something…” She gestured to his sleeve, making the two young ones and the moustachioed dwarf smother a laugh.

“Indeed,” he huffed, pulling it from the wall, and examining the blade. “Obsidian?”

“From the magma of Mount Doom,” Faëlisse answered, happily, making even the scowling brother look up, as the king handed him the dagger.

“Forged?” Thorin queried, continuing on.

“By my own hand,” she responded, with an easy shrug.

“Impressive handiwork, lass,” the scowling one commented. “Thank you…er…” she trailed off unsure.

“Dwalin,” the gruff man put in, passing back her blade.

“A pleasure,” she smiled, “I take it Gandalf has not introduced me, so I shall take that liberty. Faëlisse Took.”

“You are not just hobbit,” the elder brother commented, curiously.

“Half-elven,” she answered, “Of a heritage which no longer exists, but I have made my homes in the Shire and at the Last Homely House.”

“You would bring an elf into this?” Thorin’s hostility flared again, and Faëlisse sighed.

“I am only half-elven.” She shoved her blade back into her sleeve, silently promising to fix Bilbo’s wall. “And even if I were a full-blooded elf, the wrongs of Mirkwood should not reflect on all my race. Nor on me.” She resisted the urge to add that he, son of Thrain, son of Thror, should know better than any one that not all who share blood are the same. Thorin shook his head, looking over to Dwalin and his brother, as the two young ones leapt from their seats to envelope her in chatter.

“Faëlisse, right?” Fili asked, holding out a hand. “Fili, at your service”

“A pleasure,” she smiled, kneeling to kiss his hand. “My prince.” He chuckled, shaking his head. 

“Not yet,” Kili huffed, “I’m Kili.”

“My prince.” She repeated her action, then straightened. “You are the king’s nephew’s, are you not?” The two nodded at the same time, and she felt Bilbo’s incredulous eyes on them, turning to him. “Gandalf did not tell you? The leader of this Company is Thorin, son of Thrain, son of Thror, rightful King under the Mountain. His nephews will be Princes.” 

“No,” Bilbo ground out, “He did not tell me.” The three of them laughed, as Gandalf shrugged in the corner at Bilbo’s glare. 

“How do you know Gandalf then?” Fili asked, curiously. 

“We are both wanderers,” she answered, with a grin, “We have journeyed together many times.” Kili nudged his brother, gesturing across the room to Dwalin, who once again had his hand stuck in the cookie jar. 

“It’s a weakness,” he laughed, conspiratorially. “I’m surprised he doesn’t have more of a paunch for it.” Faëlisse smothered a laugh, as Bilbo frowned at the improper princes. 

“Oh, come Bilbo,” she teased the Hobbit, “If you are to meet a dragon, you must have all your Took blood on show.”

“You are related?” Kili questioned, tearing his eyes away from the sight of the irritable warrior.

“Cousins, distantly,” Faëlisse answered, inviting Bilbo’s frown, “I’m the fun side of the family.” The two brothers burst into laughter, the eavesdropping wizard joining them, causing Thorin’s disgruntled look as he noticed the group at the end of the table. 

“The contract,” the small, elderly dwarf said, holding out a long parchment to each of the hobbits. 

“I will make it clear, that I will not be responsible for your safety,” Thorin grumbled, firmly. “I cannot guarantee you will return.” Bilbo gulped, as the moustachioed dwarf began his story of the dragon. She caught him as he fell, raising an eyebrow at the now-silent dwarf. 

“...oops?” he questioned, making her roll her eyes, carrying her cousin from the room. He appeared again, moments later, with two cups of tea, but she didn’t miss the two others watching him from the hallway. 

“I’m terribly sorry,” he murmured, handing both her and Bilbo a cup. “I did not realise–“ 

“It’s quite alright, Master Dwarf,” Bilbo mumbled, into his tea.

“Bofur,” he offered, as he backed away slightly. 

“And your supervisors?” Faëlisse snickered, as the two dwarves in the corridor vainly attempted to flee. 

“Bombur, my brother,” Bofur said, eliciting a timid wave from the younger, rotund red-haired dwarf. “And Dori.”

”Pleased to make your acquaintances,” Faëlisse nodded, sipping her tea. The three dwarves made a quick exit, into the living room next door, and she could hear their quiet voices as they discussed the two newcomers. Moments passed, as the voices edged into silence, before a warm rumbling grew from the room. She padded in, just in time to hear the other dwarves join Thorin in their song, Erebor’s vast halls returning to life in their words. As the singing melted to a close, Thorin looked up from the fireplace and caught her wooded gaze, and immediately the welcome halls of the song faded from her. She was not wanted here, at least by him. Wordlessly, she rolled her contract, and handed it to the elderly dwarf beside her - Balin, she remembered, before she fluttered out of the room. She could hear the two younger brothers huff at Thorin for it, but she did not stop to hear it. 

“Farewell, young cousin,” she smiled, placing a soft kiss on Bilbo’s forehead. “I will see you soon, if you are truly a Took.” Bilbo frowned, wondering at her meaning. It would wake him the next morning as a challenge, and she would smirk as he proved her right. Took blood was not so easily diluted.

———————

“Wait! Wait!” She turned to all of them, a wide smirk fixed in place, as Bilbo flew down the hill. 

“Get him on a pony,” Thorin commanded, as Fili and Kili scooped the poor Hobbit up. 

“Ah, actually,” she sped up, reigning her horse in between the two scowling leaders. “I believe you both owe me.” Their scowls deepened, if it was possible, but each of them passed over a small bag of coins. “Thank you!” She dropped back, beside her cousin and Gandalf, just as the wizard pocketed his own coin. 

“What did you think?” Bilbo demanded, folding his arms. “Surely you had more sense than to bet on me?”

“I had the sense not to bet against a Took,” she answered, with a wide grin, coins jingling as she tucked them into her pockets. 

———————

“What in Mahal’s name were you thinking?” Thorin demanded, pulling Faëlisse up by her collar. “You could’ve been killed!”

“I was thinking that if I didn’t, Fili would have been killed,” she answered, calmly, hiding her wince, as she brushed dirt from her sleeves. Thorin just stared at her, the calm demeanour flooring his rage. She turned to Fili while he gathered his thoughts, checking the blond prince for injuries.

“Raurion (lion-son),” she murmured, ruffling Fili’s hair, letting Thorin wander off to speak to the returned wizard about the troll cave, unable to find the words for the girl. 

“Follow the smell,” she muttered, gesturing vaguely at the concealed cave to the left of the clearing. Kili glanced up from reaching for the growing bruise appearing behind the ripped sleeve on Fili’s shoulder, confused.

“What?” he questioned, making the previously oblivious Fili jump, and turn to glare at his younger brother, moving away towards Oin.

“They’re wondering about the troll cave,” she replied, pointing to the nearby group, who had turned to look around the area. “It’s over there!” She raised her voice, nodding towards the hidden entrance, from which the rotten smell floated. She could feel the darkness growing around her as the dwarves edged towards the cave, weapons and complaints at the ready.

“You coming?” Kili asked, scrambling to his feet.

“I’ll keep watch.” She pulled out one of her swords and a whetstone, kicking back to lean against a large rock. He shrugged, disappearing into the cave with the others. 

“Radagast, calm down!” she exclaimed, entrapping the sobbing brown wizard in a hug, “What’s wrong?” 

“Greenwood,” Radagast shivered, looking up at her, with tears in his eyes, as Sebastian snuffled out from under his hat, curling into Faëlisse’s wild, earth-brown hair. “The Shadow is back.” Gandalf swooped out of the cave, pulling the other wizard aside.

“Um, no,” Faëlisse scolded, following the two, “I have as much right to hear this as you, Mithrandir.” Gandalf sighed, but Radagast continued to speak.

“Mirkwood has returned, and it is spreading – the spiders, the forest is darkening, goblins are returning.” She knew the thundering footsteps in her ear couldn’t have been a good sign, but she couldn’t quite place it until a distant roar echoed across the plain, unheard by her companions.

“Wargs,” she whispered, Radagast’s hysteria fading as she lifted Sebastian from her hair, “Wargs!” The dwarves who had begun emerging from the cave sprinted out, but not in time to catch the bolting ponies. 

“Who did you tell?” Gandalf roared at the company, but Faëlisse simply cuffed him under the chin as the dwarves fired back with empty answers.

“It is Azog,” she snarled, picking up the few discarded packs, as Radagast’s black owl clung to her shoulder.

“Radagast, take Quessë back,” she said, as the owl refused to release her. “Quickly, we must go.”

“She will stay with you,” Radagast answered, tucking Sebastian safely back beneath his hat. “I will lead them off.”

“These are Gundabad wargs, they will outrun you.” Gandalf shook his head, tapping his staff irritably.

“Those are Rhosgobel rabbits,” Faëlisse pointed out, earning Radagast’s mischievous grin. “I’d like to see them try.” With that, the brown wizard took off across the plains, whooping, sending the Wargs bounding after him in a cacophony of movement, as Gandalf took the lead.

———————

“This was your plan all along!” Thorin snapped, turning on the meddling wizard. “You think the elves will bless this quest? They will try to stop us!”

“Nevertheless, we have questions we need answered,” Gandalf pointed out, “And injuries to heal, and it will take no little tact or charm to gain such answers. That is why you must leave the talking to me and Faëlisse.” 

“What questions?” Thorin demanded, not letting the wizard’s trickery pass so easily. “Faëlisse can read the map!”

“There are still injuries,” Gandalf answered, making Thorin’s eyes flickering over the tired, but mostly whole company, allowing Gandalf to slip away to speak to Lindir.

“Bruises, but nothin–Faëlisse!” he exclaimed, suddenly noticing the red stain crossing her mud-soaked shirt, the way she swayed a little on her feet, even as the owl still clung to her. “Why didn’t you say anything?” His questions were echoed by the Company, until the elf-horn from the plain sounded again, turning all eyes back to the front. Dismounting to greet Gandalf, Elrond’s eyes scanned the company, until he was nudged, urgently, by a golden-haired elf, as two young, brown-haired elves wove their way into the company, grasping Faëlisse, worriedly.

“You are injured!” one of them exclaimed, turning to the company, “What did you do to her?” 

“I am fine, Eln (Elladan),” she soothed, brushing her fingers through the tips of his hair, “There were… obstacles… to our journey, this is not the fault of the company.”

“Was it an orc blade?” the other asked, hurriedly, “Those were Gundabad orcs, they pois–“

“It was a troll, don’t worry, Elr (Elrohir),” Faëlisse answered, as Elrond and Lindir, too, joined the group. “Adar. Lina.”

“Lindir, take Faëlisse to her room,” Elrond instructed, making the more experienced elf nod, grasping her arm and half her weight. “Elladan, fetch hot water and clean bandages. Elrohir, go with Lindir and find out what he needs.” “Hey! Where are you taking her?” Thorin blocked the path, as Lindir tried to lead Faëlisse from the room.

“He’s taking me to clean my wound, Thorin,” Faëlisse assured him, with a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Lindir is almost my brother, he will keep me safe. Lord Elrond is not the same as Thranduil, you can trust him as much as you can trust me.” 

———————

She could hear footsteps in the corridor – given the distrust of elves, she could hardly call it unusual. Thorin’s footsteps had a distinctive click when he was brooding. Elrohir entered with the herbs Lindir had requested, before joining Elladan at her bedside as Lindir set to work on the poultice.

“I swear, if he does one more lap of this corridor, I’m going to spike his food with poppy milk,” Faëlisse complained, resisting the urge to yell out to the pacing king. Elladan chuckled, shaking his head.

“He was a little stressed,” Elrohir commented, the king’s fretful face flashing across his mind. 

“Always,” she sighed, rolling her eyes at the brothers. “Brooding is his natural state.”

“No, I mean, he was worried,” Elrohir compounded his words, with a pouty face. “Like, I could feel his eyes burning into my back when I entered kind of worried.” Faëlisse scoffed, shaking her head at her brother.

“If you’d met the man before, you’d know his eyes burn into anything that moves,” she managed through a wince, earning a soft laugh from the brothers, as Lindir pressed the poultice to her wound. “I can’t imagine how many elves he’s tried to set on fire being in their home.”

“I’ll be back,” he promised, looking them sternly in the eyes. “No moving – you’ll dislodge it.” He turned, and vanished from the door, immediately earning the ceasing of footsteps, before they began again, hurriedly.

“Is she alright?” Thorin’s voice travelled easily through the walls. 

“She is quite fine, your Majesty,” Lindir replied, calmly. Faëlisse could hear the hidden smirk in his voice, raising an eyebrow at the brothers, who just grinned back at her. “I’ll check if she’ll see you, if you would like?” 

“I shouldn’t disturb her,” Thorin hesitated, making the brothers snort.

“If anything, you will be a calming influence in that room,” Lindir assured him, as the door clicked open and closed again. “I hate to say this, but Elrohir’s right.” Faëlisse glared at him, as he wrapped her wound.

“Excuse me?” she questioned, sitting up once he fixed the bandages in place.

“You’ve scored a king,” Elladan translated, despite her already fatal look.

“The only one who’s scored a king is the mountain he calls home,” she answered, as Elrohir pulled the door open to invite Thorin in, just in time to see Faëlisse’s knuckles land firmly on Elladan’s shoulder. “Hi, Thorin.”

“Am I interrupting?” Thorin questioned, as Elrohir pulled up another chair for him.

“Not at all,” she smiled, widely, “Have you met Elladan, Elrohir and Lindir?” She gestured to the three elves around her. “Elladan and Elrohir are Elrond’s sons, and Lindir is his partner and friend.”

———————

“How is Faëlisse?” Fili questioned, innocently, as the brothers sidled up to Thorin in the corridor.

“Healing, and happy,” Thorin replied, resisting the urge to grind his teeth at the memory of one of the brunet elves fixing the braid in her hair.

“Are her brothers with her?” Kili asked, guiding his uncle into the dining hall, where the rest of the company was causing a rather subdued ruckus.

“Brothers?” he queried, taking a seat between Balin and Dwalin, with his nephews opposite him.

“Elladan, Elrohir, and Lindir?” Fili said, munching down on some salad. “And Lord Elrond – remember, she called him Adar, he’s in charge. They’re not actually related, but she’s basically adopted them as her family.” Thorin’s thoughts floated back to the room.

“Yes, they were,” he confirmed, picking at the salad, “You’re sure they’re her family?”

“She didn’t stop talking about her crazy brothers,” Kili informed him, with a wild grin, “Gave us half our ideas for pranks, between her childhood and theirs.” 

“I’ll have to remind her to stop talking to you,” Dwalin muttered, glaring distastefully at the greenery in front of him.

“Stop talking to who?” Faëlisse’s voice made them all jump, as she took a seat beside the brothers.

“Us,” Fili and Kili sulked, simultaneously.

“Arm?” Dwalin grunted, unceremoniously. 

“Good as new,” she smiled, happily. “Lindir and Elrond are the best healers around.” “Oi!” Oin complained.

“I thought you were deaf?” she challenged, raising an eyebrow.

“Dead? Me? You’re the idiot who got herself stabbed!” he grouched, turning back to the table, as Gloin shrugged, helplessly. Faëlisse and the Durin brothers burst into laughter, as Elladan and Elrohir entered, snatching their chairs from the table where Elrond and Gandalf sat.

“Do you mind if we join you?” The question was aimed at the whole table, but all eyes were firmly fixed on Thorin. He considered the two for a moment, before nodding.

“By all means,” he replied, tactfully, “It is the least we can offer in thanks for your hospitality.” The elven brothers grinned, taking their seats on the other side of Faëlisse, and immediately descending into chatter with the Durin brothers. Faëlisse glanced across the table mid-laugh, meeting Thorin’s almost-smiling eyes with her own. She smiled, softly, before turning back to the others, wincing as she twisted her injured shoulder. 

Thorin watched as Faëlisse kissed each of her brothers and her cousin on the cheek, and then Kili and Fili, bidding them goodnight warmly. The rest of the company was too absorbed in their chaos, so she simply waved, not risking the makeshift dance floor, before she made her way over to them.

“Goodnight,” she smiled, planting a gentle kiss on Gandalf and Elrond’s cheeks, before hugging Balin. She hesitated in front of Dwalin, who just opened his huge, tanned arms, letting her leap in for a warm hug.

“May I walk you to your room, milady?” Thorin asked, before she could dismiss him.

“Only if you are going that way, your majesty,” she agreed, as he rose to his feet.

“Indeed I am,” he said, nodding goodnight to the others at the table. “Thank you for your hospitality, Lord Elrond.” She lead the way out of the hall, before she stumbled a little. Thorin caught her with her good arm, and steadied her on her feet.

“Are you alright?” he queried, carrying a little of her weight. 

“Indeed, thank you,” she smiled, gently, “Lindir’s herbs are starting to kick in, I suppose. They tend to make for a potent combination. I appreciate your help.” He pushed open the door to her room and she sat down on the edge of the bed, pulling out a small container of poppy milk that Lindir had left for her. 

“You know which room you are?” she asked, recalling that the dwarven leader had lost his way even in the Shire.

“Well…” he muttered, remembering the unfamiliar carvings on the door, the maze of marble halls, “I’ll find it.” She chuckled, rolling her eyes.

“Stay here for tonight,” she yawned, fumbling with the ties on her delicate dress, before slipping it off to reveal a long shift beneath it. “I will show you the way in the morning.”

“I shouldn’t,” Thorin protested, weakly, as she climbed, sleepily, into one side of the huge bed. “It isn’t pro–“ “It is practical,” she interrupted, burying her face in the pillows. “If you would prefer properness, feel free to wander the halls until Elrond takes pity and sends someone for you.” He sighed, knowing she was correct, before stripping down to just his trousers, and climbing into the bed beside her. She seemed to already have been lost in the sea of blankets, and he wondered, briefly, what he had even been worried about.

“Faëlisse!” Dwalin’s voice thundered into the room, fists slamming loudly on the door the next morning.

“Come in, Dwalin,” she answered, blearily, “And stop that forsaken banging.”

“Thorin is–“ His sentence stopped dead as he stared at the scene in front of him. “Thorin is right here,” she said, as the red-faced dwarf king could do nothing but stare at his best friend. “He could not find his room last night, and I was too tired to show him the way. Now either both of you leave me in peace, or Thorin and I both get to go back to sleep. Either way, I’m sleeping.” The two dwarves rumbled out a chuckle, and Dwalin backed out of the room.

“The others are not awake yet,” he said, turning away, “I will…return to my room.” Thorin sighed, flopping back onto the mattress, as Faëlisse curled back up.

She blinked her eyes open, the soft pillow beneath her head distinctively cold against the warm surface she was pressed against. The warm, breathing surface. The warm, Thorin surface. She peered up at him, desperately hoping to see his eyes closed, so she could edge away without his noticing, despite the arm wrapped around her shoulders, but she was met with gunmetal eyes. Very open gunmetal eyes.

“Good morning, again,” he greeted, softly, allowing her to unfurl from him. “You were having a…rather aggressive dream. It was either be cuddled or be kicked.” His soft laughter was infectious, and she giggled, as she ran a hand through her curly hair. 

“Apologies,” she offered, as the door inched open again, revealing eight mischievous eyes. Mischief turned to fear as they realised they’d been caught. “Ah, I knew you four would make a formidable team,” she commented, as the culprits slunk into the room. “Mahal help us all.”

“Did you sleep well, Faëlisse, Uncle?” Fili asked, innocently.

“Well, he must’ve slept better than he would have wandering the halls,” Faëlisse defended, though she couldn’t help the rising flush.

“So you’re saying this is all because Uncle has no sense of direction?” Kili confirmed, eliciting snickers from his companions, and a growl from his uncle.

“I don’t believe either of us had enough mead last night to justify any other suspicions,” Thorin grumbled, but no one missed the matching pink tinge on his cheeks.

“Faë!” A child’s voice squealed, as a tiny bundle of dark hair raced through the open door, pouncing on her.

“Estel, my little rovén-hén,” she smiled, scooping him into her arms. “How have you fared?” “I’ve been to Lothlorien!” he exclaimed, excitedly, launching into babble about the other Elvish homeland. 

“Who are you?” he demanded, then, turning to Thorin, who was staring at the infant in disbelief.

“Estel, that is Thorin Oakenshield, King Under the Mountain,” Faëlisse informed him, easily, “Thorin, this is Estel, Lord Elrond’s ward.”

“You’re a king?” Estel’s eyes widened. “What’s it like? I’m gonna be a king when I grow up!”

“Are you?” Thorin snapped out of his daze, as the child crawled over onto his lap.

“Yeah! I am!” he said, bouncing up and down, as he began to describe his perfect future kingdom. “Are you going to marry Faëlisse?” The room paused, letting the statement sink in, as Faëlisse and Thorin stared at the child, horrified, with the four mischief-makers unable to control their laughter. 

“What’s so funny?” he demanded, turning to them, as they sank to the floor. “Gilraen said that people only get in bed together if they love each other very much. And he’s not her brother!”

“Thorin and I are friends, rovén-hén,” Faëlisse explained, finally snapping out of her shock. 

“But–“ he began, furrowing his little brow. “I think it’s time you showed Kili and Fili where to get breakfast,” she interrupted, flying him off the bed, despite the protests of the mischief-makers.

“I can do that!” Estel exclaimed, grabbing one of Kili’s hands and one of Fili’s, leading the two out of the room at a run, with a still-laughing Elladan and Elrohir on their heels. Silence fell across the room again as the door shut, firmly, behind the group.

“Is Estel…Is he your son?” Thorin asked, desperately trying to sound only curious.

“Oh, no,” she answered, easily, standing to pull on a clean, lavender shift and dress. “I mean…he is in all but blood. His mother is Gilraen…he reminds her far too much of her widow, so since Elrond took them in she has drifted away.” Her musing was interrupted by the black flurry which flew through the window, attaching itself to her shoulder. 

“Ah, welcome back, Quessë,” she smiled, scritching the owls dark neck. 

“What’s so funny?” Dwalin grumbled, suspiciously, as the laughing Durin brothers and the two elves were led in by a smiling child. “And who’s the kid?”

“Estel, Lord Elrond’s ward,” Fili answered, as the others struggled to still their laughter. 

“And your amusement?” Balin queried, from a distance. 

“I have never seen a face as red as your king’s when this one asked if he was going to marry our sister,” Elladan replied, through his laughter. The room stopped, then burst into uproarious laughter. 

“Oh Mahal,” Bofur choked, staggering up to them, “What did he say?”

“He just…stared,” Kili managed, wiping mirthful tears from his eyes, “They both did! I thought they were going to implode. Good job, kiddo.” He ruffled Estel’s hair, and the human child stared up at him, confused.

“What? I still don’t understand why this is funny!” he complained, huffily. 

“Because, Esté,” Elrohir said, glancing down at the irate boy. “Those two are madly crushing on each other, but they haven’t admitted it yet.”

“But, whyyyy?” Estel’s brow furrowed. “Why haven’t they? I’m going to a–“ “No, no,” Elladan grabbed the child before he could take off again, “You can’t say a word about this to either of them, alright? Pretend we didn’t tell you.” “Clueless questions about marriage are quite fitting, however,” Fili mused, catching Kili’s twinkling eyes. 

“Oh yeah, keep doing that,” Elrohir nodded, grinning, “We’d never get away with it, but Faë’ll let you off easy.” Estel matched Elrohir’s grin, mischief forming in his bright, dark eyes, as he sprang from Elladan’s arms and bounced at their feet, eyes fixed on the huge stacks of pancakes on the table. 

“Last one to the table’s a rotten egg!” he grinned, shooting off to one of the wooden stools, sending the other four scrambling after him.

Thorin collided directly with his wrathful general as he exited Faëlisse’s room, wrinkling his nose at the disgusting smell.

“What is that?” he complained, stepping quickly back, to get a good look at Dwalin, just as Faëlisse appeared beside him. 

“Estel beat you to the table, didn’t he.” It was more a statement than a question, earning an irate growl of affirmation from Dwalin. A large, brownish egg yolk rested on the top of his bald head, the greyish tendrils of off egg white sticking to his hair and beard. The rest of the Company rounded the corner, quickly retreating at the sight before them. “I’ll show you to the baths.” She raised her voice, summoning the other dwarves. “At least if you’re all together Thorin can’t get lost.” She danced out of the king’s reach, taking up the lead.

“Clothes?” Faëlisse requested, knocking at the door of the change room. “Dwalin, especially, Estel and I will get the egg out of yours. You’ll want to at least start the rest of our journey clean.” She looked down at Estel, reproachfully, who looked down at his feet, pouting. The door opened, eliciting loud shrieks of protest, as a basket was handed to her. 

“Oh, sissies,” she huffed, as the culprit – a towel-enshrouded Bifur – closed the door, quickly. “It’s not like that.” “You wouldn’t be saying that if Thorin didn’t have a towel on, lassie!” Bofur’s statement was followed by the resounding flick of a towel slapping against bare skin, and a squeal from the offending dwarf. 

“There are innocent ears out here, Bofur,” she scolded, as Estel finally looked up from his feet.

“There are innocent in ears in here, too!” Dori complained, and even without looking in, everyone, including Faëlisse, could see him clutching a confused Ori’s ears.

“What does that mean?” he questioned, frowning. “What difference does a towel make? Aren’t you and Thorin getting married anyway?” That sent another wave of laughter through the dwarves.

“We better go do the washing,” Faëlisse said, hoisting the basket onto her hip.

“You didn’t say no, lass!” Kili called, but she just shook her head, leading Estel towards the laundry rooms to the echoing sound of Kili’s pained squeal.

“Stop encouraging the kid,” Thorin scolded, as the rest of the company moved towards the baths. “He may be genuinely confused, but you aren’t.” The dwarves clamoured in disagreement, and Thorin pinched the bridge of his nose, turning to Dwalin, who just shrugged.

“I’m confused too,” the warrior teased, darting out of the way of Thorin’s towel-whip. “Perhaps to a different extent to the child.”

“What’s so confusing?” he huffed, sinking into the warm water. “Faëlisse didn’t trust me to find my way through the halls.” “Well, you did get lost in the shire,” Bilbo pointed out, breaking his silence on the issue. “I can’t say I blame her. Especially with how obvious the mark on my door was.” 

“Well, then, what’s so confusing?” Thorin repeated, flicking water at his sniggering nephews.

“You think we believe that you would’ve stayed if it was anyone except her who said it?” Balin asked, raising an eyebrow from beside Thorin.

“Aye, if it’d been me, ya would’ve stormed off and had to be fished out of some ravine on the other side of Middle Earth,” Dwalin agreed, on the king’s other side.

“I–“ Thorin frowned, insistently blaming his heated cheeks on the warm water. “Definitely would’ve,” Fili completed, with a shit-eating grin. 

“Why don’t you just admit you like the lass?” Gloin asked, reclining back in the warm water.

“Even I can see it,” Bilbo agreed, before ducking under the water, soaking his light curls into a dark mop.

“Aye, ya look at th’girl same as Gloin looked at Mizim,” Oin nodded, sagely, ear horn sitting at the side of the pool.

“I thought you were deaf,” Thorin snarked at the old healer.

“Dead?” Oin repeated, irritably, “And here I had the same discussion with Faëlisse last night. You’re both as stupid as each other, you’ll make quite a pair.”

———————

“Touch me again, you great slug,” Faëlisse snarled, kicking aside the huge, rotten tooth she had knocked from the goblin king’s mouth. “And I’ll serve your delightful subjects your intestines for dinner.”

“Will you, now, daughter of Feanör?” The Goblin King sneered, ensuring that he fastened her limbs together as he lifted her the second time. Her skin crackled with heat, sending him into a howling release, but not without tearing the sleeve from her coat. She snatched it up, irritably, tucking it into her belt. 

“To think, this coat lasted through Sauron’s attacks, only to be torn by a measly Goblin,” she huffed, as Gandalf’s voice bellowed through the chamber. 

“Take up arms and fight, you fools.” She was getting very sick of being grouped among the fools. She snatched Dwalin’s axes from the goblin beside her, tossing them to him with a shout, before spinning to hand Thorin Orcrist, in exchange for her various obsidian daggers and sword. He froze, as her hand met his, staring down at her uncovered arm, and the scars that danced up it, white and red and ridged.

“Thorin!” she snarled, slicing a goblin away with his sword. “Give me my blades! And take yours!” The Dwarf King shook his head, looking up at her, abruptly, resuming the weapons trade without a word, his gunmetal eyes glazed, as she turned back into the battle, familiar black-bladed sword swinging.

———————

“Thorin, don’t be a fool!” she growled, snatching, vainly, at the Dwarf King’s charging coat. “Thorin!” Azog overpowered him all too quickly, outnumbered by the white orc and his huge, white Warg, not mention the cheering audience of orcs. Bilbo lunged from nowhere, the glowing Sting held before him, just as Faëlisse leaped from the tree. She landed on her feet on the white Warg’s back, pressing her long, obsidian blade to the Orc’s neck, even as he gripped Bilbo by the collar. 

“Unhand the Hobbit,” she hissed, burrowing her blade deeper into his skin. 

“He is not who I want anyway,” Azog growled, unceremoniously tossing the small creature aside. “The lines of Durin and Feanör ending at once? I could not have asked for more.” Without warning, he flipped backwards, snatching at air where Faëlisse had stood just moments before, only blistering footprints left in her wake on the Warg’s skin. Above his head, the Lord of the Eagles called loudly to his kin, the company of Thorin Oakenshield firmly in their talons. 

“A daughter of Feanör, huh?” Bofur queried, with what was an attempt at cheer, as he took a seat beside her on the Carrock. 

“Indeed,” she smiled, absently, pulling aside the dwarf’s torn and singed sleeve to reveal the blistered burn beneath. She reached for an ointment, waving his shirt over his head, reluctantly, all eyes still fixed on Thorin, even as Oín began tending to other wounds. “I did not take the oath, but I was born the same day my father did, his only daughter. There was nothing I wanted more than to please him, for a time, and then I realised I couldn’t. I was only half-elf, and a girl, at that. I hadn’t taken the oath before I realised what it meant, and then, I couldn’t. The Silmarils cost me everything, everyone I loved. How could I vow to return them to a father whose madness only grew?” She finished cleaning the wound, covering it with a gauze, and letting the hatted dwarf pull his shirt back on. Thorin suddenly shot up from where Gandalf was kneeling over him, leaping to his feet just as quickly.

“You! What were you doing!” Thorin’s voice was low, but harsh, and the relief which had flooded Bilbo’s face vanished. “You nearly got yourself killed. Did I not say that you would be a burden?” The others hustled, awkwardly, unwilling to interrupt their leader. “That you wouldn’t survive in the wild? That you had no place amongst us?” Faëlisse watched Gandalf curiously, but the wizard seemed no more comprehending than the rest of them, as the scene unfolded. “I have never been so wrong in all my life.” And suddenly, Thorin’s anger vanished as quickly as Bilbo’s relief had, and he tugged the confused Hobbit into a warm embrace. The other dwarves hummed, happiness scattering through the group, as Thorin continued to converse with the hobbit. As the sun faded, eagles swooping back out of the landscape, all eyes fixed on the distant peak, alone among the flats.

“Erebor.” Gandalf broke the reverent silence. “The Lonely Mountain. Last of the great Dwarf Kingdoms of Middle Earth.”

“A raven!” Oín exclaimed, as a bird twittered past, “The birds are returning to the mountain!”

“That, my dear Oín, is a thrush,” Faëlisse corrected, from behind them, making the dwarves jump, peering back at the small figure, enshrouded in darkness, petting the black-feathered owl which had returned to her. 

“I will take it as a sign,” Thorin shrugged, turning his eyes back to the mountain, “A good omen.” Faëlisse smothered her doubt, as her optimistically-eyed younger cousin looked forward with the dwarves, pulling out a needle and thread to attend to her torn coat, as the dwarves scattered to set up for the night.

“Faëlisse.” Thorin took a seat beside her, as the others’ loud chatter faded into mountain-rocking snores.

“Thorin,” she answered, turning to the bruised dwarf king. “How are you feeling?”

“Better, thanks to you and your cousin,” he admitted, nodding, “And the meddling wizard, of course.” “Careful, he is not so deep a sleeper that he will not hear your insults,” she laughed, catching Quessë on her wrist as the small owl swooped back down from the air. “Hello Quessë.” Even as she cooed at the bird, she could feel Thorin’s eyes burning into the side of her head. “You should get some sleep, after all, it takes a lot of energy to almost die.” He hummed back, noncommittally, but his eyes turned away from her anyway, for a moment. 

“I’m serious, Thorin,” she urged, pushing him off his perch, towards his bed roll. “You need to sleep. Whatever you wish to say can be discussed in the morning.” 

———————

“Thranduil.” Her history with the elven king was nothing if not amicable, so the stout glare he fixed her with now only caused irritation. “Thranduil, Elven King, please, this is madness.” His guards lead the dwarves away even as she spoke, leaving her to stand before him alone.

“Madness?” he questioned, turning his icy eyes back to her as the door clicked shut. “Madness is a quest to reclaim a mountain of accursed gold, from a dragon who has killed as many as Ancagalon the Black!”

“Smaug is barely an ant compared to Ancagalon,” Faëlisse protested, logically. “I have faced dragons more fearsome than this and won. You could help us, and win the favour of Erebor when the time comes that you need it.”

“Need it? You think I need help from these dwarves?” he spat, looming up over the already shorter halfling. 

“I know you do!” she snapped back, Quessë eliciting a sharp sound of support. “Mirkwood has returned. Spiders and shadows range your woods as I haven’t seen since Sauron’s death!”

“Enough!” Thranduil growled, as she swiftly dodged his hand. “Take her to a cell.” Elven hands caught her wrists, dragging her backwards, but she slapped them off.

“I can walk on my own,” she snarled, glaring at the young blond. “Legolas, my prince.” She nodded, civilly at him, and kept walking, until he opened a cell door before her, and she stepped in.

“Are you alright?” her cellmate queried, and she looked up into the concerned eyes of her shivering young cousin. 

“Indeed I am, Bilbo,” she smiled, pulling off her coat and handing it to him.

“No, you must be freezing,” he disagreed, attempting to hand her back the warm sheepskin.

“I am not cold,” she answered, shaking her head. “I know it is not up to the Baggins taste, but somewhere like this there is little we can do.”

“How are we going to get out of here?” Bilbo asked, finally accepting the jacket, pulling it around his cold shoulders.

“We’ll find a way.”

She grinned as Bilbo held up the keys to the cell, days later.

“I told you the Took blood would come through,” she laughed, quietly, as he set to work retrieving the dwarves from their cells. “This way, to the basement.” “Basement?” Gloin protested, earning himself an immediate shushing. “Why would we go to the basement? We want to get out, not go further in!” 

“Because the basement is where the produce which goes to Laketown is kept,” Faëlisse answered, pulling the door open to reveal two sleeping, drunken guards.

“You’re not serious,” Dwalin huffed, staring at the barrels before him in dismay.

“Barrel rides,” she grinned back, mischievously, earning Kili and Fili’s smiles. “It’ll be fun!”

“This is not fun,” Ori whimpered, as an Orc arrow landed in the wood between his fingers. 

“Get down,” Faëlisse scolded, pushing the young dwarf’s head into cover. “Those arrows are poisoned.”

“Kili!” she growled, sending the arrow at his eye-level into flames, “Get your head down. We cannot hit them from here, just wait until we get past.” He grumbled something about her being no fun, but ducked his head down anyway, still trying to remove the vision of the Orc’s arrow from before his eyes. 

“I said stay in cover!” she snarled, shoving Kili behind her, growling out a curse as the arrow aimed for him clipped into her thigh. Kili’s returning arrow hit the Orc in the eye, knocking him backwards.

“Are you alright?” he asked her, worriedly. “I’m sorry I didn’t–“ “Shh, Aiwë (small bird), it’s fine,” she assured him, turning back as Balin spoke to the bow-wielding Bard. “Bard!” The dark bargeman looked over to her, in surprise, suspicion softening.

“Faëlisse.” His eyes darkened at her wound. “You are injured.”

“I am,” she agreed, as a hum of worry rang through the dwarves. “But that is not the point. It has been too long, dear friend.” 

“Too long indeed,” he nodded, wrapping her in a gentle embrace. “How did you end up with these dwarves?”

“I offered them my assistance,” she answered, shrugging, turning back to the group. “Bard, this is the Company of Thorin Oakenshield. Everyone, this is Bard. And your weapons are in one of those barrels.” She gestured vaguely at the fifteen soggy, half-smashed barrels on the shore, and the dwarves turned to them, excitedly.

“Way to win favour,” Bard laughed, shaking his head at her. “Always full of surprises.” “Indeed, how are Sígrid and Bain? Little Tilda?” she continued, fondly remembering the three young children.

“Very well, but they will be better for seeing you,” Bard replied, looking down at her.

“I am afraid I do not come without the company,” she said, shaking her head. “And they will be more difficult to get into Laketown. And more dangerous for you to harbour.” “I have my barge,” Bard offered, reluctantly eyeing up the dwarves and hobbit. “Get back in your barrels and I can take you. Faëlisse, you can stay out – your leg will only be worse for movement, and the Master welcomes you.”

“I know my way around a wound,” Faëlisse muttered, pulling the fresh bandages tighter around her leg, “But at this point, I almost wish it had taken me longer to heal.” She stared out at the dismal, dark sky of Laketown, offering Tauriel one last hug goodbye, before limping a little out the door.

“You should stay here and mend, lass,” Balin told her, once again, as she boarded the boat, Tilda crying into her sister’s shoulder. “The children will miss you.” “I do not see anyone else here who has faced down a dragon and won, Balin,” she answered, tugging her brown hair back into a ponytail. “A daughter of Feanör must use her curse as a gift.”  Her skin crackled, charring around her fingertips, and Balin nodded, sighing.

“It does not make you invincible,” Oin grumbled, appearing behind them.

“No, but it does make me impervious to the dragon’s flames,” she grinned back, eyes glinting with challenge.

———————

Smaug exited the mountain, enraged, already spitting flames at the desolated land.��

“No!” Faëlisse snarled, vaulting from her ledge on the mountain’s edge, sending the dwarves bellowing after her. “She’s on him!” Fili breathed, excitedly.

“She’s on him!” Ori choked, horrified.

“She is literally riding a dragon,” Kili whooped, jumping up and down. “Oh, no.” Flames never reaching so far as Dale, before they circled upwards, around him, Smaug took a sudden turn downwards, spiralling towards the city. “She’s crashing a dragon.” A sudden force tugged him aside with a fiery flash, and two figures dropped from the sky.

“No, no, no!” Bard growled, tossing aside his bow, as Bain stared into the sky, horror tinging his young face. The two of them belted down the stairs of the watchtower, racing for the river on the outskirts of town. “Why was she riding the bloody dragon?”

He arrived at the river at the same time as the Company, Smaug’s huge body overshadowing the site. 

“Why was she…I didn’t think she’d be–“ None of the dwarves replied, staring in horror at the unmoving surface of the lake.

“What are you staring at?” Tilda’s voice questioned, innocently, searching for something more interesting than the fallen dragon.

“Whatever it is, can you stop?” Sigrid continued, huffing, “She needs a medic.” They all looked over at the two girls. Three girls. Faëlisse was sitting beside Sigrid, blinking dazedly.

“That was a nice shot, Bard,” she mumbled, dizzily, before slumping backwards into the mud.

“Faë!” Tilda screamed, scrambling for the halfling, as the others hurried over, Oín and Gandalf quickly settling by her side.

———————

“And here I thought my cousin was wrong when he told me you had traded your honour for treasure. Elves and orcs stand on your doorstep,” Faëlisse said, voice echoing decisively through the stone hall, as she and Dwalin thrust open the doors to the throne room. “Your cousin Dain is set to arrive and plunge into a battle you will not even look upon. You just betrayed Bilbo’s trust, and mine, and your Company’s. And you sit upon the throne as though you deserve it.” 

“Silence!” Thorin growled, jumping to his feet, “If you wish to join the traitor, I can throw you from the battlements as well.”

“Go on, then,” she dared him, eyes flashing, “Touch me and you will lose your hand, king or not.” 

“You sit here in these vast halls, with a crown upon your head,” Dwalin spat, “And yet you are lesser now than you have ever been.”

“Go. Before I kill you,” Thorin growled back. She could see the pain in his eyes, behind the hatred, the confusion. She could see him hearing his own voice but not recognising the words. The two of them stalked out, but she paused in the doorway, earning Dwalin’s questioning gaze. She waved him forward, and he hesitated, until she shoved him on his way.

“You know the worst thing about all this?” Faëlisse’s voice was unshakable, sharper than any blade. “I thought you deserved this throne, once. I fought to put you upon it, to put my faith in you over the advice of my family, of my age-old allies and friends. We fought to put you upon it. And you stand before us as though it is a birthright you had no help in claiming.” She stormed back down the hall, snatching Orcrist from his belt, before dancing back out of reach. “You are worthy of your grandfather’s crown, sure enough, but not of Ecthelion’s blade.” She slammed the door behind her, and ran, blindly, tears scorning her cheeks, tracing the familiar path back to the battlements.

“I am going to fight,” she interrupted the dwarves’ debate, hanging Orcrist on the wall beside the others’ weapons. Not a word was spoken. “Farewell, my friends.” She trapped each of them into a tearful hug, as they stared at her, uncomprehending.

“But, Thorin said–“ Ori began, but she shook her head.

“He is not my king,” she told him, sadly, “And he is not the same person I grew to love.” She gave the young dwarf a quick peck on the cheek, swinging her legs over the battlements. As she was grabbed by the arms from either side.

“Wait! Faëlisse, no, you can’t just…” Kili trailed off, still gripping her right arm tightly.

“You can’t just go,” Fili continued for him, from her other side. Both of them held their grip resolutely as she tried to shake it off.

“I can and I am,” she replied, carefully working to pry their resisting fingers from her arms, “I have a responsibility for Bilbo, and a duty to myself. Thorin has fallen as far as my father did – I will not watch that again.” Fili paused, but released her, as Dwalin laid a firm hand on his shoulder. 

“You’ll come back, though?” hke whispered, voice shaking a little. 

“I just stole your Uncle’s precious sword,” she laughed, bitterly. “He will not have me back. I will write, so will Bilbo. You have my word.” Kili’s eyes tore between her and his brother, face falling further if possible, but he let her go.

“Thank you,” she whispered, kissing each of the brothers on the forehead. “I love you. So does Thorin. He will come back to you, I am sure of it. Your place is in your home, in Erebor. My place can no longer be here, even if it tears my heart.” Then she dropped, swinging on the rope Bilbo had slid down, and somersaulting to her feet. She paused, at the bottom, and waved to them, before disappearing into Thranduil’s tent. 

“Faëlisse,” Gandalf breathed, as she entered. “Are you alright?”

“Unharmed,” she replied, dusting herself off.

“But...Faë,” Bilbo protested, quietly, staring, shell shocked at his cousin. “You love him.”

“I stole his precious Orcrist from his very belt, Bilbo,” she laughed, even as tears melted from her eyes. “And told him he was not worthy of Ecthelion’s blade. I called him his grandfather. My place was no longer in Erebor. But I will fight to defend it, if I must.” This last she said with a pointed look into Thranduil’s cold, blue eyes. 

“You think I fear a halfling who was foolish enough to fall for that dwarven scum?” the Elven King scoffed, his head snapping back with a loud crack as her fist slammed across his face. Tauriel leapt into a defensive position, fending off any further attacks, but Faëlisse had already turned away. 

“At least he has a heart when he is in his right mind,” she told him, spitting at his feet. “You know what I am capable of, Thranduil. And it will bring me no joy, but I will burn your entire army to the ground if I must.”

“Faëlisse,” Gandalf rumbled, warningly. 

“There will be no need,” Bard assured her, with a warning glare at Thranduil. “We are far from the greatest danger to the mountain.”

“Azog,” Faëlisse agreed, the white warg’s howl curdling her blood. 

“Will you follow me, one last time?” Thorin’s  voice cracked as spoke, but the Company only nodded, reaching for their weapons. He reached back, pulling Orcrist from the walls, scanning the 13 faces before him. 

“Where is Faëlisse?” They froze in their movements, faces filled with guilt and worry.

“She followed her cousin,” Fili piped up, bravely. “As we should.”

———————

“And here I thought you could fight your own battles, agrecthion (despised)?” She emerged from behind the burning catapult, black blade drawn. 

“Ah, the line of Feanör ends at last,” Azog rumbled back, stumbling to his feet again.

“It is well past our time,” she smirked back, with a shrug. “But Coivë-antë (Life-Giver; name of her blade) has yet to fail me.” She would at least leave him with another scar. 

———————

“No!” Tauriel snatched Fili’s wrist as he tumbled, a long gash running across his chest, and Faëlisse swung her blade at Azog, making the white orc simply growl, as though she were a mere nuisance. Fili stumbled forward again as Azog disappeared from sight, back into the hill. 

“Fili,” Faëlisse fretted, hurrying to the blond prince. “Are you alright?” 

“I am,” he nodded, looking to Tauriel. “Thank you, Captain.” Tauriel just nodded, with a gentle smile, catching the blond prince as he swayed. 

“I have to go,” Faëlisse said, hurriedly. “Tauriel, can you make sure he makes it back to the Mountain?”

“Yes, but where are you going?” the elf queried, beginning to lead Fili down the stairs. “You cannot just face him alone.”

“Ravenhill,” Faëlisse answered, before springing from the window the same way Azog had, landing in a snowdrift on the nearby hill, and disappearing. 

She was silent as she pounced, tackling Azog to the ground. 

“I told you,” she growled, tearing her dagger across his chest as he wrestled her off. “You have to go through me.” Azog tossed the smaller creature aside, leaving Kili in his wounded pile to the side, and facing Thorin again. 

“Pathetic.” His voice echoed over the battlefield. “Your halfling girlfriend fights for you.”

“I am no one’s,” Faëlisse snapped, dragging herself to her injured feet, still swaying. “And I have fought for longer than even the King Under the Mountain.” Azog scoffed, knocking her unsteady form aside as she approached him again. Tauriel was out of his line of sight as she appeared, reaching for her fallen dwarf. As the second prince disappeared from the battlefield Faëlisse felt her chest lighten a little, before Azog decided she would stay down this time, satisfied by the blood pooling in the snow around her, and turned back to Thorin.

Thorin stood on the ice, panting. 

“Move!” Faëlisse yelled, urgently. “You have to–“ Azog’s sword emerged from the pond, slicing through Thorin’s foot, followed by the Orc himself, turning his blade on Thorin as he stumbled backwards. Faëlisse staggered to her feet and leapt forwards, throwing all of her small body against the Orc, knocking him back. She felt his blade sink into her stomach, but she pushed again, harder, and he fell back, losing his grip on the blade. She pulled it from her stomach, sinking to her knees from the pain, but sliced it across the exhausted orc’s knees anyway, separating his lower legs from his scarred body. Azog screamed in pain, collapsing over the edge of the hill as Faëlisse’s vision faded to black and she fell forwards into the snow. 

“Faëlisse!” Tauriel’s voice was the last thing she heard, Thorin’s shocked, horrified gaze the last thing she felt. 

Tauriel snatched her friend from the ground, embedding her hand over the wound to stem some bleeding, as the dwarf king stared, hopelessly. 

“Can you get yourself back to the Mountain?” she asked, looking down at the fallen dwarf, blood seeping from his foot and various other wounds. “Or shall I send someone to fetch you?”

“I...can walk,” Thorin answered, clambering to his feet and limping after her. “Why did she do that?” The elf in front of him scoffed, shaking her head. 

“Why do you think?” she challenged, not slowing her fast pace.

“I treated her poorly the last time I saw her,” Thorin continued, lost in his thoughts. “I treated all of them so poorly. And they followed me into battle.”

“You are their king,” she told him. “But, first and foremost, you are their friend.” The room was flooded with elves – from Mirkwood, from Rivendell. 

———————

“Tauriel!” One of the brunet elves Faëlisse had called her brothers appeared, as they entered the infirmary the mountain had become. “Where’s Faë?” He darted through the crowd, managing to clear his view to fix his eyes on the limp halfling in Tauriel’s arms. He snarled an Elven curse, before turning back into the crowd, leading Tauriel after him, with Thorin staggering to keep up. 

“Adar!” Elrohir summoned, urgently, making Elrond look up from bandaging Fili’s wounds. He leaped to his feet, shouting to one of the other Elven healers nearby, and gesturing to Tauriel to lay her down. Her face was deathly pale as breaths struggled through her lips, blood seeping out with each one. He pressed his hands to the wound, with a shout behind him, sending Lindir bustling over with a needle and thread. 

“Faë,” the elf minstrel choked, kneeling down beside her, as Elrond began to stitch the wound. 

“Fetch Mithrandir,” Elrond ordered Elrohir, “Then find your brother and keep Estel out of here.” Elrohir nodded, a last lingering glance over Faëlisse’s still form, before he vanished back into the crowds of people. 

“Lord Elrond, your son–“ Gandalf’s words cut off, abruptly, and Thorin watched in horror at the first time he had seen the wizard rendered speechless. What he had hoped to cause as a triumph now settled deep into his soul as the signature on her death warrant. Gandalf knelt beside the two elves, as Elrond finished stitching, resting his hands over the wound. 

“We need Radagast,” he breathed, looking back at the elves, fear written across his face. 

“Radagast is in Rhosgobel!” Lindir protested, wildly. “He will not get here in time.”

“Where is Quessë?” Gandalf demanded, turning to Thorin and Tauriel as they stood above the scene. 

“I...she flew away.” Thorin scanned his memory, finding only the mess of black feathers which shot past his face as Faëlisse pounced on the white orc. 

“No,” Gandalf muttered, sinking back to his knees, casting his eyes over the friend who had stood beside him for longer than any other, “No. She can’t have.” He jumped to his feet, barging past the mismatched pair that stood at be bedside, prickling at one another’s presence. If the shorter wizard hadn’t stopped him, he would’ve stormed directly into him. 

“Radagast,” he breathed, eyes catching the brown wizard. “How did you–“

“Animals are better eyes than people.” He looked past, expression falling grave, fixing on Faëlisse. He knelt beside her, as Thorin wondered how many more people would kneel beside her and do nothing. Laying his hand over her wound, he whispered in an ancient language, Quessë and the hedgehog snuffling into her curly brown hair, chirruping quietly. Faëlisse’s eyes flickered open, recognising Radagast’s form learning over her. 

“Radagast?” she breathed, meeting the wizard’s worried brown eyes as he looked up at her. ��What are you doing here?”

“Quessë fetched me,” he answered, earning a proud chirp from the tiny owl. “Good thing, too. Gundabad blades are nasty things.”

“Ugh, you’re telling me,” she sighed, as Sebastian moved to curl up on her chest. She looked up, catching sight of Thorin and Tauriel standing over her. 

“You two should really see a healer,” she commented, vaguely, taking in the various lacerations scattered across their forms, and the single foot Thorin balanced on. “You scored a pretty rough blade to the foot, Your Majesty.” Thorin almost winced at the formality, but did not have the chance, as the two other injured were hustled away to be tended. 

———————

“Shh, shh, its alright, Raurion,” she soothed, reaching for the trembling heir as he shot up in the night. Fili stared at her, eyes wide, then sank back into her shoulder as she clutched him to her. “You’re safe.” “I’m sorry,” he whispered, as her fingers threaded through his knotted hair. “I’m sorry irak’amad.” 

“There is nothing to be sorry for, Raurion.” She leant forwards, pulling her blanket up around Fili. “The most hardened warriors have battle dreams. There is nothing to be ashamed of.” 

“What happened to your arms?” he asked, suddenly, as the white, ridged scars on her forearms glowed lighter in the moonlight, and he recalled the ridges he had felt when he had untied her from the battlement.

“I fought myself,” she replied, voice shaking, as she tightened her arms around him. “I fought myself in a way which no one should. Don’t ever, Fili. You are far too loved for that.” She felt a tear that wasn’t her own splatter onto her arm, but she only leant back against the cold stone behind her, a soft hum rising from her chest.

“You are too loved for that, also, irak’amad,” Fili said, after a long pause, breaking through her humming. She smiled, softly, placing a gentle kiss on the top of his head.

“Thank you, Raurion.”

“Kili, Kili. You’re safe, Aiwë.” She felt Fili stir, and shift off her, both of them reaching for the crying prince. “It’s just Faë, and Fili.” She clutched him to her as she had his brother, as Fili watched, gripping his little brother’s hands firmly.

“I don’t know what I’m snivelling about,” Kili offered, attempting to wipe away his tears. “I did not see the worst of it.”

“You have the right to remember,” Faëlisse told him, firmly. “You both do. The right to remember, the right to cry, the right to be scared. There is no weakness in fear or in memory. And there is no weakness in seeking help.” She opened her arms a little, and Fili joined the huddle, bringing the warm blanket with him, warding out the chill.

“It seems the lass has adopted yer nephews, ye miserable ol’ bastard.” Dwalin’s voice woke her the next morning, and she fluttered her green eyes open to catch sight of the whole company gazing down upon them. Kili and Fili were each tucked under one arm, with the blanket tightly wrapped around the three of them. Seeing that they were still asleep, she fixed her glare on the loud warrior, earning him a nudge from his brother, and the instruction to be quiet. Thorin limped over from the other side of the room, and she avoided his light eyes, leaning back again and begging for sleep to return.

“Well, can’t say I blame them,” Thorin muttered, with a wry smile, careful not to raise his voice any louder than it needed to be. “I’d prefer someone with some sense and kindness over a gold-sick fool.” Muffled laughter drifted through the company, tinged with relief, as Dwalin slapped Thorin on the shoulder.

“Estel! Faë is sick, don’t wake her.” Faëlisse lifted her head as Elladan’s familiar voice carried into the room, following quick footsteps.

“No, no, I’m awake,” she whispered, smiling up at them. “You can only come in if you’re really quiet, rovén-hén. Will you go back to sleep?” Estel nodded, obediently, clambering into the pile, and curling up on her lap, in the small gap between the slumbering young dwarves. Elladan shook his head, looking down at the pile of sleeping bodies. 

“Made to mother.” Elladan grinned, and padded out of the room, calling over his shoulder. “Adar will want to check your wounds soon.” 

———————

“Estel!” Kili cooed as he woke, the rest of the company having drifted out of the room. “I didn’t know you were here. How do you like Erebor?” 

“It’s huge!” Estel exclaimed, bouncing up and down in Faëlisse’s lap. “And really pretty! But it made Amalsain (new mother) sick.” 

“That was not Erebor, rovén-hén,” Faëlisse chuckled, ruffling the little boy’s hair with her now-freed hand. He immediately perked up, smiling again.

“I like it then!” he declared, happily. 

“Alright, sweet as this is,” Elrohir declared, entering beside his father, “You’re gonna have to break it up so we can check you.” Kili, Fili, and Faëlisse all groaned, reluctantly shuffling apart, each of them frantically reaching for a warm blanket or coat from their pile, much to the amusement of the watching dwarves. Elrohir knelt beside Fili, Lindir beside Kili, and Elrond beside Faëlisse, with Estel still clinging to her side. 

“Any pain in the night?” Elrond asked, as she pulled her shirt up to reveal the wound, making Faëlisse laugh.

“You mean other than the pain of my internal organs restitching themselves, right?” she teased, making Elrond roll his eyes.

“Ew,” Estel complained, wrinkling up his nose. “That’s gross, Amalsain.” 

“It is, isn’t it?” Fili agreed, as Elrohir cleared him with a simple bandage change. 

“Did you sleep?” Elrond continued with his questions, swallowing his amusement at the two young boys with the bitter appearance of the hole in Faëlisse’s abdomen.

“Of course, I had two very effective dwarf prince heat packs,” she answered, earning a playful punch from Fili, “I am a firm believer in the theory that warmth and hugs ease any pain.” 

“And here I thought you were just being kind.” Fili feigned hurt, pressing a hand to his chest.

“I feel used,” Kili joked, also joining them. 

“Well, what can I say?” she grinned back, wincing as Elrond gently cleaned the wound. 

“Oi, give the lass some space,” Dwalin commanded, trundling back into the hall. “Bombur’s busy in the kitchen if yer gonna come ’n ‘ave breakfast.” Kili perked at that, and Lindir grabbed him before he could follow Estel in leaping to his feet.

“You literally got stabbed yesterday,” the elf minstrel scolded, “And your leg is broken. Take it slowly.” Kili pouted, but rose more demurely, as Elrohir helped Fili to his feet.

“All you Durins and your troublesome legs,” Faëlisse teased, as both of them limped around for a moment, finding their bearings on their injuries.

“Oh, says the girl whose stomach was punctured,” Kili retorted, poking his tongue out at her. 

“Your foot is injured as well,” Fili pointed out, gesturing to the bandaged limb.

“Sprained.” Elrond answered her questioning look, as she noticed the source of her sore foot for the first time. 

“At least it’ll heal faster than your insides,” Dwalin offered, sniggering, as he reached over to help her up, as the elves packed away their things.

———————

“Bombur, you have truly excelled,” Faëlisse told the red-head dwarf, as she limped into the kitchen with a stack of emptied plates. “I could not be sadder that the hole in my stomach decreased my appetite a little.” Bombur blushed as she placed a gentle kiss on his forehead, with a smile. 

“Thank you, Faë,” he murmured, smiling, as she filled a bucket with warm, soapy water from the cauldron over the fire. “It was my amad’s recipe. She was such a fabulous cook.” 

“And you would make her proud everyday,” she assured him, plonking the  plates into the tub. “Go and have fun. Send one of those other slackers in to dry for me, you have done so much this morning already.” He guffawed at that, bustling out the door, leaving the kitchen to fall into silence. Moments passed, then the huge, wooden door clipped open again, and uneven footsteps crossed the floor. Thorin came into sight, without saying a word, picking up a drying towel and one of the plates.

“Thank you,” she said, tightly, quickening her previously lazy scrubbing.

“No need to rush just because I am here,” he told her, noticing the increased pace. “I already have quite a backlog to get through.” 

“Perhaps it is not for your benefit that I hurry,” she replied, almost under her breath. He paused his movement, for just a moment, then continued.

“That would be… understandable,” he conceded, after a time, lapsing back into the tense silence he had entered in.

“You must have come in here for a reason, Your Majesty,” Faëlisse demanded, eventually, as she removed the last plate from the sink. “You are their king, you are one of the worst injured among us. Anyone else could be here.” 

“Perhaps I wanted to help,” Thorin attempted, weakly. She didn’t deign that with a reply, other than to turn away and pick up another drying towel. “Or…perhaps I came because I knew you were avoiding me.”

“Mahal, I wonder why ever that might be,” she snapped back, taking all of her self-restraint not the slam the last plate down. 

“Faëlisse, I… you–“

“I know that what I did could be called treasonous. I know that you can punish me with exile, Thorin,” she snarled, slamming her down and clenching them around the carved stone until her knuckles whitened. “But I am injured, and, quite frankly, I would not make it back to Imladris, even with Adar and the others tending me. Now, do you see? I am selfish. Self-preserving. I do not want to die from a wound inflicted while I acted in defence of my banisher. I do not want to die knowing that it is because the person I foolishly let myself fall in love with simply did not care for me once he had his precious mountain back!” She tossed the towel over her shoulder and stormed out, as well as she could with her foot screaming, and blood seeping from the reopened stitches in her stomach. Lindir met her at the door, wrapping her in a tight embrace, shielding her from the gaze of the dwarves, though she didn’t miss the horrified expressions written across Fili, Kili, Estel, and her brothers’ faces.

“Oh, Faë,” Linder comforted her, “Come on, we’ll get you patched up.” Elrond followed behind as she was led away from the kitchens. 

“What in Mahal did you do?” Thorin was still staring, blankly, at the door, when Kili and Fili burst in, closely followed by Dwalin and Balin attempting to pull them back. “You would banish her after she saved our lives?” His nephews stood before him, seething, and he could see the shadow of Dis within them both in that instant.

“I didn’t…she just…” he stumbled over his words, leaning back against the counter. “She thinks I do not care for her.”

“Yeah, that’s the least of our problems!” Fili snapped, angrily, “She thinks you intend to banish her! I thought you came in here to fix things. I would’ve done it instead if I thought you would make it worse!”

“I didn’t say anything about banishing her!” Thorin yelled back, making the others’ eyes widen. “I didn’t. I wouldn’t. Why is she so upset with me?”

“What?” Kili questioned, incredulity lacing his tone. “Why is she so– Mahal, you don’t remember.” Realisation dawned over him, and he stepped back, running a hand over his face. “You don’t remember.” The four faces in the room stared at him, dark-eyed. 

“What happened?” He mumbled it at first, then stepped forward, raising his voice. “What happened!”

“You almost killed Bilbo.” Dwalin’s voice was quieter than any of them had heard it before. “And then you almost killed her for defending him.” Thorin stumbled back the single step he had taken, sinking against the counter, but his cousin hadn’t finished. “You cut her sleeves off, took her coat and boots, and tied her to a ledge on one of the battlements in just her dress, and sat guard yourself for a night, to ensure she stayed there the whole time.”

“Once she was freed, the Orcs had already arrived,” Balin continued where his brother had left off. “She and Dwalin went down to your court to call you once more, after she’d recovered. She was damn near hypothermic. You told Dwalin to leave before you killed him. She stayed, and–“ “I remember that,” Thorin cut him off, voice hoarse. “And I must make another apology to you, Dwalin. You have been more than loyal, better than any friend I could ask for, and I treated you like that. I am so sorry.”

“I have put it in the past,” Dwalin grumbled back, gesturing to the door, “I am not the one who fears banishment.”

———————

Faëlisse wandered up the height of the battlements, then clambered up the short gap to the ledge which jutted from near the mountain’s peak, closed off from internal access by a collapse. The battlefield was still scattered with bodies, and three tents stood proudly amongst them – Thranduil’s, Dain’s, and Bard’s. Dain did not need his tent – after all, he was cousin to the king, and would be staying in the mountain. But he insisted it stand, simply to spite Thranduil, whose tent was smaller. A few figures picked through the battlefield, carrying the bodies to their appropriate place. She twisted one of her blades in her hands, running her fingers along its delicate edge. The view was scarred by the battle, as the harsh sunlight glared down on the truths. She slipped off her coat, eying the long, white, ridges which had stood unchanged for more than a year, and could almost have laughed at herself. Breaking such a streak over the King Under the Mountain.

“Irak’amad.” Fili’s voice made her jump from her thoughts, guiltily jerking the knife away from herself, as he appeared beside her. “It’s cold up here. Put your coat back on–“ He ran his hands over her bare arms, gently prying the knife away and tucking it into its sheath on her belt. “You’re freezing! I brought a blanket, and a Kili… and an Estel.” He crossed to her other side, letting Kili squish in on the side closest to the descent. He wrapped the blanket around the three of them, and Estel grinned, burrowing in to sit on her lap, recreating the morning’s position. They settled into a comfortable silence for a moment, just watching the busyness below, before Kili spoke.

“He doesn’t remember.” Faëlisse turned to face him, raising an eyebrow.

“What?” Fili shifted closer, turning so that he was facing in across the group, freeing up her arm. 

“Thorin, he doesn’t remember when he threw Bilbo out,” Kili reiterated, bluntly. Faëlisse scoffed, bitterly.

“I’m not sure if that’s better or worse,” Faëlisse scoffed, bitterly.

“Me either,” Kili admitted, lapsing back into silence, as Estel snuggled into Faëlisse, already asleep in her lap.

“He’s not going to banish you, Faë,” Fili picked up in his brother’s silence. “He…is not the most tactful.” Faëlisse and Kili both snorted, eliciting a wry smile from the blond heir. “But he loves you. I would never ask you to forgive his actions – I don’t think I ever will – but…could you let him offer an apology before you go?”

“Go?” she questioned, looking back at him. “I thought you said he wasn’t going to banish me.” 

“He’s not, but…I thought, once you were better, you’d want to…” Fili hesitated, bewildered.

“He thought he was giving out a punishment befitting a crime,” she murmured, thoughtfully, staring out over the plains again. “Even if he was wrong…”

Kili and Fili darted on and off the ledge for the rest of the morning, but she stayed, Estel asleep in her lap until the afternoon, when he too scampered down the descent, reappearing moments to inform her that Bombur had made lunch. She drifted, warily, into the small dining hall outside the kitchen, immediately being summoned into a seat with Elladan and Elrohir on one side, and Estel and Bilbo on the other. Lindir, Elrond, and Bombur sat in the other nearby seats, Gandalf and Radagast having disappeared earlier in the day. The meal passed uneventfully, with Bofur’s jokes earning laughter from even Thorin, before the topic fell to her. Dain had not joined them for breakfast, having eaten early and left to tend to his men.

“Are you going to introduce me to the young lass?” he asked, eventually, catching sight of her brown locks beside Bilbo’s.

“My cousin, Faëlisse,” Bilbo piped up, with a warm smile at the Dwarven king of the Iron Hills. 

“Our irak-amad,” Fili grinned, mischievously, earning a glare from Thorin, and a surprised snort from Dain, as he lapsed into Khûzdul to speak to his cousin.

“Will you be staying in Erebor, Miss Faëlisse?” Dain queried, catching Thorin’s sharp elbow before it could hit his stomach. 

“Forgive me, my Lord Dain,” she answered, with a careful smile, “But I am not sure of my welcome. I hope to stay until I am healed.” 

“You are welcome here for as long as you wish,” Thorin assured her, hurriedly. “I would not have any member of the company who won our home back turned away.” She smiled, again, more warmly.

“Then perhaps I shall see whether I am wanted or needed,” she rephrased, looking back at Dain. “I have lived too long to waste time where I am doing no good.” 

“A wise principle,” Dain agreed, sagely, but she didn’t miss his eyes flickering to the elves at the end of the table. “But I would almost expect it from the mouth of an elf.” 

“Well, I am half-elven,” Faëlisse stated, coldly, “So perhaps that is not so far from accurate.” Dain couldn’t help it, as his head flicked between her and Thorin, half-whispering to his cousin in Khûzdul. 

“I did not see you or your people offering aid in our expedition!” Kili snapped, eventually, even as Thorin gestured for his silence.

“Actually I recall your courtiers calling it an ultimate folly,” Fili continued, glaring at the red-haired ruler.

“Aiwë, Raurion, that is enough,” Faëlisse commanded, limping up to their end of the table, “I can see that my Lord Dain disapproves of elves as much as his cousin. Perhaps, my Lord, you would take that argument up with me, or at least, in a language I speak fluently. Khûzdul has never been shared with me.” 

“You call even Dwarven princes in that tongue?” Dain demanded.

“You would tell me they dislike it on their behalf?” she challenged, getting up into the seated king’s face, at his eye level. “I do not think it is your business who the princes of Erebor interact with, or how. You are neither their father nor their uncle. You did not even bother to consult them when you discussed their home with their uncle, and now you think you can speak for them in their friendships?” Dain hauled himself to his feet, towering over her, but she didn’t so much as flinch. “I have faced Morgoth, Sauron, Azog, even my own brothers. You will not intimidate me with mere size, tele-falch kanuina.” 

“What did you call me?” Dain asked, anger fading into genuine bewilderment, as Elladan, Elrohir, and Estel burst into uncontrolled laughter. 

“Ass-crack of lead.” She said it with an entirely straight face, looking Dain directly in his brown eyes. The dwarf stared at her for a moment, then his face split into a broad smile.

“Ass-crack of lead?” he guffawed, clapping her on the shoulder. “Oh, my dear, the last time I heard something like that, the man turned around and begged for forgiveness after learning I was a king.” 

“I am afraid that I was already aware,” Faëlisse informed him, as the whole table eyed Dain, tensely quizzical. 

“That is what makes it better,” Dain answered, taking his seat again. “You are made for my cousin. Erebor could not ask for a better queen.” Thorin elbowed him before he could catch it this time, shaking his head, a mortified blush rising to both his cheeks and hers. 

“What have you been calling me?” she hissed at Thorin’s nephews.

“Auntie,” Fili grinned back, and she groaned, turning to meet Thorin’s eyes, awkwardly, as Dain laughed between them, apparently pleased with his matchmaking efforts.

“I mean…” Thorin muttered, hesitantly, “He’s not wrong that Erebor could not find a better queen. That I could not find a better queen.”

“You’re saying this now.” Faëlisse folded her arms. “Here?” 

“You’d prefer I didn’t say it?” he asked, smiling softly. “I am so sorry, amrâlimê. I treated you deplorably.” 

“Oh no, not the eyes,” she sighed, squinting against his power. “You’re right. You thought it was punishment for a crime, but you were wrong. It was deplorable.” She turned away from him, then glanced back at his worried face, before glaring over at Kili and Fili. “You two started this.” 

“Oh, come on, irak-amad,” Kili grinned.

“I even gave you a way out,” Fili agreed, “I said you didn’t have to forgive him, that I wouldn’t expect you to. You’re the one who pointed out the crime and punishment thing.” She huffed at them, then turned on her heel, looking back at Thorin.

“Thorin, I…” she stammered, looking him in the eye as they perched on the battlements. “There are some things we need to discuss before we go any further with this.”

“Indeed,” he agreed, hesitantly. “I must apologise for…everything, really.”

“Thorin, please,” she murmured, shaking her head, eyes fixed on the floor. “You haven’t even been looked at me for weeks. You hung me from your battlements. You almost killed my cousin. And all for a rock. Now, Gandalf has the Arkenstone–“

“Gandalf has it?” Thorin growled, leaping to his feet. She stepped back from him, and he froze, staring at her in horror. The room around them was silent, even as hands fixed themselves on weapons.

“You can’t be surprised after what you’ve done,” she told him, coldly. “If Gandalf returns it, I want you to let Dwalin destroy it.” 

“Destroy the Arkenstone…” Thorin muttered, his eyes dark. “After all this.”

“Thorin, either it stays here, destroyed, or Gandalf takes it,” Faëlisse said, stepping back further, clenching her sword tightly. “And me with it.”

“And us,” Kili and Fili murmured, behind her. “There is no point having this mountain if you would handle the throne the same way it was handled when it was lost.” Thorin looked up at them, the darkness fading from him, as he stared around at the agreeing faces. 

“Thorin,” she whispered, tears clinging to her cheeks. “Please. I don’t want to do this without you.” He stepped towards her, instinctively, but she only drew her blade, holding it between them, shakily. The room held its breath, even as Dain pressed his own blade on Faëlisse’s, lowering them both, slowly, he made no move to prevent her from lifting it again.

“The Arkenstone has done Erebor no good, cousin,” he advised, from his seat. “A Queen would.”

“Dwalin, destroy it,” Thorin commanded, eventually, nodding to Dwalin. The warrior stood, and Gandalf handed him the stone, and he disappeared from the room. Thorin took a seat, sighing deeply. 

“You have to see what it does to you, Thorin,” Faëlisse breathed, sheathing her sword again. “Gold sickness changes you, and that Arkenstone is the source of it. Erebor cannot have a king who will not spend even a single coin in his management of the kingdom.”

“I am not my grandfather,” he ground out, glaring up at her. 

“Then don’t act like him, Thorin!” She raised her voice, gesturing at him. “You sat in your throne room for weeks refusing us any rest as we searched for your precious Arkenstone. You almost killed my cousin and me. You left Kili and Fili in Laketown alone! He would have died if it wasn’t for Tauriel and me! And you left! You walked out Bard’s door as if he was nothing to you, not the precious nephew who’s photo you wear on that chain! If you are not your grandfather then do not act like him!” She stormed out of the room, her footsteps silent even in her rage, brushing off Elrond and Lindir as they reached for her, as Elladan held Estel back.

“Don’t you dare follow her,” Fili growled, matching his uncle’s movements as they stood. “You haven’t the right to see her after whatever that just was.”

Dwalin re-entered, the shards of silver stone gripped tightly in his palm.

“Give them to Gandalf,” Thorin commanded, a sudden wave of inspiration washing over him. “They will be set into gifts for our allies.” The room stared at him, as though he had gone even more insane. “I cannot have it’s remains in my kingdom, I have proven that well enough.”

———————

“Irak’amad!” Kili called out to her, practically bouncing up with his brother, weeks later. Elrond had left almost two weeks ago, taking Estel with him – though he assured her it was temporary – and all their injuries were almost completely healed. Quessë had returned, and remained happily on her shoulder wherever she went. Balin followed more slowly after the brothers.

“Aiwë, Raurion,” she answered, happily. “What are these?”

“Crowns!” Kili answered, eagerly, passing her an intricate silver piece, inlaid with the glimmering white stone. “The silver will be for King Thranduil,” Fili elaborated, holding up two more similar crowns, “The gold for King Bard and the copper for King Dain.”

“And the ring is for Lord Elrond,” Kili added. “They’re made from the Arkenstone.” She almost dropped the crown she was holding, looking up at them both.

“Your uncle is intending to give part of the Arkenstone to Thranduil?” she questioned, incredulously. 

“It seems so,” Balin nodded, almost as disbelievingly as her. 

“And…he – and we – had a request,” Fili continued, nervously.

“Indeed?” she asked, suspiciously.

“Well, Thorin cannot go himself,” Balin started, and she nodded, realisation sinking in.

“I would be happy to accompany the princes,” she assured him, happily, ruffling Kili’s hair.

“He was hoping you would accompany them as regent of the crown,” Balin clarified, her face immediately falling. “Kili is travelling to Mirkwood with the intention not only of passing on the gift, but with a proposal for the Captain of the Guard.” Her face brightened immediately, and she grinned.

“Can Fili not be the ambassador to the crown?” she asked, despite her smile. 

“Well, I can, but…” Fili conceded, almost pouting.

“But you’re proposing this to me for Thorin,” she finished, shaking her head at him, and ruffling his hair. “I will discuss this with him.” She placed a kiss on Fili’s golden brow, and on Kili’s. “Will you accompany me, Balin?”

“It would be an honour,” Balin replied, laughing a little, as the two set off towards the throne room, gathering the jewels from the princes’ hands.

“Thorin,” she greeted him, warmly, placing a gently kiss on his cheek. “I see you have been busy.” 

“I needed to get rid of the Arkenstone, and it seemed only fitting that it finally did some good for the kingdom it has done so much harm to,” he nodded, as Balin returned the precious pieces to their proper places.

“I also heard you wanted a second regent of the crown on the trip,” she added, as Thorin took a seat beside her on the steps leading to the throne. Balin hurried to excuse himself, and vanished from the room, with the quiet thump of the door to the throne room.

“Ah, yes,” he murmured, thoughtfully, “I would…appreciate such.” “And you truly think I would be the most appropriate candidate?” she queried, looking him directly in the eye.

“No one, except perhaps Balin, matches your diplomatic skill,” Thorin agreed, maintaining her gaze. “And…well…if you were to accept my proposal, it is only appropriate for the Queen of Erebor to lead the journey to our closest allies.”

“That is a rather roundabout way of asking me to court you, my King,” she smirked, widely. 

“And that’s a rather roundabout answer,” he snarked back, pulling out a small box, revealing a silver bead, with a tiny, darkly pigmented carving of an owl, and a ring of entwined strands of silver and gold, embedded with a delicate emerald. “Will you accept my offer of courtship, and take your place as Queen Under the Mountain?”

“Of course,” she smiled, pulling out a tiny box of her own. “If you will take me.” Her silver bead was intricately decorated with a longsword through a crown, and the ring was wide and flat, with a small sapphire embedded in the eye of the crow carved upon it.

“Uncle! Did you know Faëlisse was courting someone?” Fili scrambled into the room, with Kili on his heels. 

“She’s got a new braid, and a ring. This must’ve been going on for a while!” Kili continued, outraged. “How did we not know?” “Boys!” Faëlisse shouted, following them in, casting an apologetic smile to the confused company.

“No, no, this is interesting,” Bofur interrupted her attempt to pull them from the room. “Who’s the lucky man?” Ballin shook his head, as the rest of the company stared, accusingly at her.

“Are Kili and Fili the only people in this mountain who have eyes?” she asked, folding her arms. “Why am I not allowed to braid my hair and wear a ring, but Thorin is?” 

“If Uncle had a new braid, we’d – Wait!” The brothers turned on their uncle, looking him up and down with a scrutinising eye. Dwalin picked up Thorin’s left hand, and waved it in the air, the new ring glinting.

“You!” Kili bellowed, accusatorially. “You’re who Faëlisse is courting! And she gave you a ring as well! Is that an elven thing?” 

“Oh, Mahal,” Thorin groaned, burying his face in his hands.

“Who else would it be?” Faëlisse questioned, suddenly incredulous. “I didn’t think you were actually asking. You two have been trying to pair us up for a year and suddenly you’re ready to believe I’m courting someone else?” Fili opened his mouth, but closed it again, and they both folded their arms, pouting, as she burst out laughing.

“Well, now that that mystery is solved,” Dwalin huffed, though he couldn’t hide his grin, “Back to business?”

———————

“King Bard,” Faëlisse smiled, embracing the man warmly. His children raced over, clustering around her, clamouring for attention. “Hello Sigrid, Bain.” She scooped Tilda up, scrunching the small girls nose, as Bain showed off his new sword. “We have a gift for you, from Erebor.” Fili laughed at her, as she struggled to pull the crown out singlehandedly, and took it himself, handing it over to Bard.

“Thank you,” the king acknowledged, carefully unwrapping the package.

“It was forged by our Uncle himself,” Kili informed him, happily, “From the shards of the Arkenstone, and the first gold mined in Erebor since our return.” 

“I am honoured,” Bard smiled, as Bain immediately snatched the crown from him, handing it to Sigrid.

“Put it on him, put it on him,” he demanded, grinning at his older sister. Sigrid laughed, lifting the crown above her father’s head, and resting it over his brow.

“Suits you,” Faëlisse laughed, spinning Tilda in the air, before landing her in her father’s arms. “But we must keep going. We need to reach Mirkwood before nightfall.”

“Good luck,” Bard called after them, as the children waved goodbye.

“Oh, wait! We forgot the coronation!” Kili exclaimed, turning them around. “Your official invitation.” He handed over the small envelope. “The children are welcome too, of course.” 

“My Prince,” she greeted Legolas, still astride her horse, “We bring a gift and proposition from Erebor.” He looked her up and down, suspiciously, but nodded, and she dismounted, gesturing to the others to do so also. Legolas’ guards led the horses away, while he led the envoy deeper into the realm, sending a messenger rushing ahead.

“King Thranduil will see you right away,” the messenger told them, greeting them at the door. “This way, please.” They entered the hall, familiarity washing over them, as Thranduil stared down at them from his throne.

“Faëlisse,” he greeted, warmly, the two exchanging kisses on one another’s cheeks. She had saved him in the Battle of Five Armies, and Elrond’s insistence had helped to mend the bonds between them.

“Thranduil,” she smiled, happily. “You know Prince Kili, and Crown Prince Fili.” The two princes stepped forward, and exchanged greetings with the taller elven king.

“Such a delegation cannot be here on a social visit,” he queried, leading them into a conference room and offering them seats.

“And we are not,” Faëlisse agreed, withdrawing the wrapped crown from her pack. “We are here to offer a gift to consolidate connections between Erebor and Mirkwood, as well as your official invitation to the coronation of the royal family.” 

“And?” Thranduil questioned, knowingly, his eyes tracing over Kili, who hadn’t stopped looking around since he had arrived.

“We have a proposal for my dear friend Tauriel,” she confirmed, nodding. Thranduil nodded, gratefully receiving the wrapped package. He unwrapped it, carefully, revealing the glinting silver and stones.

“The Arkenstone?” he asked, placing it gently on the table.

“My uncle thought it suitable for the jewel to be shared among our closest allies,” Fili piped up, his first words since he had greeted the king.

“I appreciate it,” Thranduil smiled, warmly, and Faëlisse grinned. A knock at the door interrupted any response, and Thranduil called for it to open. 

“Tauriel!” Faëlisse beat even Kili in greeting the Captain of the Guard, wrapping her friend in a warm embrace.

“Faë,” Tauriel greeted, “Prince Fili, Kili. How may I be of service, my King?”

“The delegates of Erebor have a proposal for you, Captain,” Thranduil replied, causing Tauriel to look back at them, querulously. Immediately, Fili and Faëlisse stepped back, pushing Kili forward. The dark-haired dwarf was almost trembling as he stood before her. 

“Tauriel, would you do me the honour,” he paused, retrieving a small box from his pocket, “Of accepting my offer of courtship?” Tauriel glanced between the faces in the room, but Thranduil merely nodded to her.

“Yes!” She resisted the urge to squeal. “Yes, I will, Kili. I will.”

“Now, I hate to interrupt,” Faëlisse interrupted, stepping forward before Kili could offer the gifts. “But it is my responsibility as regent of the king to inform you that accepting this courtship also means accepting the responsibility of a Princess of Erebor.” Tauriel nodded, looking her old friend in the eye.

“I accept,” she murmured, and Faëlisse squealed, bouncing back out of the way, and allowing Kili to offer his ring and bead. 

[ninjoots]

Tennis Practice

It was a very awful feeling to have. The feeling that sinks into your brain, then goes to your heart, then to your stomach, and then to the tear ducts in your eyes. That feeling when you realize something and everything seems to crash down inside you. Your brain shatters into a million shards of glass, and they fall down to your heart, cutting it up into little bits. Then you start to feel sick, because the blood in your body is carrying those shards and bits of your heart straight to the stomach acid, and it twists your gut into a knot. Your eyes start to feel wet, and you try blinking away your tears. And you wonder if blinking away tears doesn’t even really happen. Like they reference it in every sad scene of every sad book and movie, but it never works when you want it to.

These are the things Charles Lee felt when Thomas Jefferson beat him at tennis.

Charles Lee had played tennis since he was ten years old, always preferring it over everything that the other boys liked to do. When summer and spring rolled around, he would head to the little tot’s tennis court and school all the girls there. When fall and winter rolled around he would bundle up in a few layers of coats and scarves, go outside, and bounce a tennis ball against the wall. Or he would go inside and watch tennis videos.

Tennis was his stress reliever. When he got into high school he hid it a little more and his anger unleashed dramatically. But then once he was in college, he was at the court every day. He was undefeated by everybody, and now here he was.

He was standing on one of the most famous tennis courts of all time in the United States. The USTA Billie Jean King National Tennis Center in Queens, New York City. He felt alive as he walked in there at 5:30 in the morning. He was wearing a black muscle tee, some sweatpants with his navy blue tennis shorts under them, navy blue and black nike shoes, tall black socks, and a sweatband around his forehead. He set his bag down on the ground and pulled out his tennis racket, matching his outfit.

Charles took a deep breath and got out his container of tennis balls. He pulled one out, set the container back in the bag, and walked over to a wall. For the next hour or so he practiced, hitting the tennis ball against the wall and letting his brain slowly go numb from the repetitive sound.

But his peace was interrupted suddenly, and the air got thin. Charles whipped around and felt his heart stop.

He had gotten so far in this game, and was now a tennis champion in the United States. Charles planned on getting even farther too. He wanted to be the best in the world. But there was one other person in the United States that he had to get past, and he didn’t think he would be seeing him until Nationals.

Thomas Jefferson. A rich, pretentious fucking bitch. Some asshole who did tennis ever since he was in middle school and had a natural talent for it. Charles had admired him when growing up, but had then slowly realized that if he was going to succeed in this game, he would have to drag him into the ground. Lee stopped bouncing the tennis ball and shot the other man a glare. Jefferson smirked and walked over to the bench. He set down his water and his bag, taking off his jacket and folding it neatly. It was a dark magenta color, his signature color.

He spoke, “I didn’t think a runt of the litter tennis player like you would be up this early in the morning.” Charles rolled his eyes and walked over, crossing his arms.

“Yeah, well I didn’t think pretentious bitches like you could afford to lose so much beauty sleep.” Charles snapped.

“Um excuse you,” Jefferson scoffed, “I get plenty of beauty sleep. Have you seen this hair? These eyes? This smile?”

“Yes,” Charles sighed, “To which I say again, I didn’t know an ugly bitch like you could afford to lose beauty sleep. You’ll need all the beauty you can get so then at least you’ll look pretty when I mop the floor with your sorry ass.” Thomas huffed and took his sweats off. Charles took note of the fact that Thomas shaved his legs. That seemed odd to him for some reason, even though he shaved his legs as well. He was self conscious about them for some reason.

Thomas snapped, “Just don’t get in my way while I practice, ratchet ass thot.” Charles eyes went wide and he huffed. He was about to march over and slap the five o'clock shadow off of the southerner, but he felt the tennis ball in his hand. He couldn’t afford publicity like that, not before nationals.

Charles picked up his racket and continued practicing against the wall, trying to ignore Jefferson’s humming. But the sounds couldn’t stop interfering with each other, and Lee could feel himself losing his patience. Finally, after a few more minutes of listening to the noise around him, he snapped, “You aren’t going to win you know. We both know who’s really going to make it to the world tour.”

Thomas sighed and shook his head. “Can we both just practice in silence, and besides, White people don’t have to win and dominate at every single goddamn thing.” Lee stopped, mid hit of the tennis ball. It went past him, bouncing across the court and then rolling to a stop. Charles stared at the wall in confusion, like he had no idea what just happened within the past five minutes.

Lee slowly straightened his back and muttered, “Do you seriously think I’m white?” Thomas caught his bright pink tennis ball and smirked.

“Uh, you look pretty white to me, buddy.” He snickered, tossing it at the wall again. Charles slowly walked to the other side of the court and picked up his tennis ball.

He suddenly shouted, “I’m colombian, you fucking dumbass! God you are so fucking dense you stupid, pretentious fucking prick! How can a human being even be this retarded!” Thomas stood where he was, still practicing, and laughing his ass off. Seeing his opponent get this pissed off was his goal, and now he could start phase two of his pre game plan.

“Alright, tell you what, shorty. I’ll apologize if you beat me in a game of tennis.” Thomas bribed, catching his tennis ball once again and letting it drop to the ground. He walked over to Charles and put a hand out. “Promise.” Charles glared up at him and spit in his hand before shaking Thomas’s. Jefferson cringed and gagged dramatically.

“Promise.” Charles snapped before pulling his hand away and walking to the other end of the court with his racket. “Is that what you look like when you’re choking on your daddy’s cock, mother fucker?” Thomas rolled his eyes.

He answered politely, “I am currently single.” Charles laughed.

“Not surprised,” He teased before hitting the tennis ball and sending it to Thomas’ side at almost lightning speed. Jefferson reacted quickly, hitting it back in almost a perfect hit. They went back and forth like this, suddenly in full focus at the game and their banter ending in silence. Lee was thankful he got the last word before their game started. But now he had to beat him through action, not through word. Charles understood this well, and made sure to hit Jefferson withe everything he had,

Jefferson on the other hand had a different strategy. He went easy on Charles, only giving half of what he could really do. But he still gave enough effort that Lee wasn’t beating him. He saw that Charles was loosening up, letting his guard down at seeing how easy Jefferson was to go against. And right when the perfect moment came, Jefferson striked.

He slammed the racket against the ball, sending it flying in a perfect hit, Charles didn’t have enough time to hit it and it missed, ruining the shot. Thomas got one point. He was winning. Charles growled, feeling his anger rise and his blood boil. Jefferson did this over and over until him and Lee were in a tie. The next point would be given to the winner of the game, and Lee was playing like his life depended on it.

Jefferson hit the ball, not even a striking move. He was still going through the easy part of his strategy, not even working a lot to beat Charles at this point in time. But somehow, Lee didn’t hit it in time. It didn’t hit the racket, just by a few inches. Lee’s eyes widened as he hit the ground, skinning his arm on the rough hard black top of the tennis court. Jefferson drooped and put his hands on his knees, panting with exhaustion laced in every breath.

Thomas managed to get out, “Damn! You’re pretty good for some white, trash talking, troll huh! I’m surprised you even l-lasted that long!” Lee was on his hands and knees, staring at the ground beneath him in disbelief, there was a bit of blood on the ground where his arm had skid across it. He could feel the stinging sensation on his arm, and knew that he would need to get it bandaged and disinfected later. He could hear his opponent, the winner, talking and laughing to himself about his win.

It struck Lee very subtly, but somehow not subtle at all, that he lost. He had just lost a match against Thomas Jefferson, his arch rival. And if he lost this match because he got angry and stupid, who was to say the same thing wouldn’t happen next time? Charles felt that feeling, That god awful feeling that you got when everything crashed and burned and flooded and died.

His brain went haywire, seeming to turn into a hurricane of racing thoughts. His heart ached, and fear and hopelessness seemed to start drifting into his veins and his lungs. His bones felt weak. His body was sore. Charles felt a sob escaped him as he slowly got off the ground and stood up, holding his arm in pain.

Thomas’ ears picked up the sob like a mother to her young. He frowned at the sight of his opponent and rushed over after grabbing a towel from his bag. Charles was numb and out of mind, not even paying attention to the man in front of him. Thomas began dabbing at the blood, wiping it away with the towel. Charles felt hot tears roll down his cheek and drip silently to the ground. He sobbed again, blinking and letting more tears fall.

“Hey, come on, it’s okay. You sensitive to pain or something like that?” Thomas asked softly, using the clean end of the towel to wipe Lee’s tears away. Charles didn’t answer and just sobbed harder. His thoughts only seemed to go by faster, clouding any sense of proper thought structure he had. His hands were shaking so much and he felt like he was going to collapse. Charles suddenly couldn’t remember the last time he lost a match….

He had never lost a match before... With anybody... 

Charles felt like he couldn’t breath. Thomas asked quietly, “Are you having a panic attack? Can I use your phone to call somebody close to you?” He led Charles to the bench and sat him down, carefully walking to the opponent’s bag. Lee could only hear the ringing in his ears and his heart beating, but Thomas’ voice was there too, soft and sweet to his ears. Jefferson found Lee’s phone in Lee’s bag only for there to be a password. He sighed and walked back over to Lee. he sat next to him and faced him.

“I’m gonna stay here until you’re okay, alright? You may be my enemy after today, but right now you’re a human being. A colombian human being who kicks ass at tennis and might just win the nationals in a few days. You were so amazing on the court, dude. You listening?” Thomas smiled, moving a few strands of Lee’s hair from his eyes. Slowly but surely, Charles was starting to breath normally again and he could feel his numbness going away. The shards of glass were starting to piece back together in his head, and he could feel his thought slowing down. His heart was being sewed back up, but it would surely be broken again some other day and in a much easier way. His bones got strong again, and the soreness faded away.

Charles mumbled, “Thank you.” Thomas smiled and ruffled his hair.

“It’s alright… I’m Thomas, I think we got off on the wrong side of the court.”

“I’m… I’m Charles. We d-definitely got off on the wrong side of the court.”

Jefferson stood up and picked up a pen from his bag. He took Lee’s hand and scribbled his number on Lee’s wrist and explained, “If you ever feel shitty like this again, call me okay?” He packed up his things and walked to the door, panting a little still from the game. Charles watched Thomas go, nodding a little as he left.

Lee looked around and then at the phone number on his hand. There was a little heart there too, small and cute. Lee blushed and covered his face with both hands.

Feelings were messy for him for the rest of the day, but not the way they were when Thomas Jefferson beat him at tennis.

[im-abanana]

Here’s the fic you requested me, @happyqueenandgrumpydork! 

I hope you’ll like it!

When Poppy simply told her best friend her little secret, the expression painted on Suki's face appeared absolutely priceless, unforgettable: a perfect mixture of surprise, happiness, disbelief, confusion, sentiment and joy. “Oh my... girl, ya're saying that... ya're pregnant!? Seriously!? This isn't a fuckin' prank, right!?” the dj covered her mouth and freckled cheeks with both hands, emotion and excitement in her purple eyes as she tightly hugged the always happy Queen. “I'm so, so glad for ya and Branch, sweetie! What a sly dog, that survivalist; he knocked ya up, uh?” the orange haired Troll winked naughtily, gently punching her bestie's left shoulder, of course playfully. “Did you tell Branch yet?”.

“So it seems, yes... it happened a week ago. And no, I haven't told him yet.” the pink haired girl sadly nodded, sipping a cup of warm tea and sighing out, fear and uncertainty shining in her magenta orbs as she spoke once again: “I just don't know what to do, or what to say anymore... In seven or six days I will give birth, and I'm so scared about it. I mean, what will the others think about me? What will my dad think about me? What will... Branch think about this, about us and the kid? Having sex and, most important, a baby before marriage goes against a couple of our traditions.” the female forced a laugh after a few moments, scratching her fluffy nape with her fingers and blushing slightly. “But after all, following the rules has never been my strong point, I guess.”.

Suki blinked a couple of times, not understanding all those useless worries: “Pops, are ya seriously concerned about the others' reaction? Trust me, your friends and your dad will go completely nuts when they'll found out about this, a baby is somethin' amazing, a beautiful new for the whole reign actually. And Branch? Come on, ya know him better than I do, he adores and loves ya with all his freakin' heart, of course he will be happy about this!” the musician, ended her wise speech, offered to the Queen a cinnamon bun, encouraging the royal Troll and promising to be by her side. “I will help ya when you'll decide to tell everyone. In my opinion, your pregnancy could be a whole new adventure for both of you guys, Branch wants to start a family with ya, girl.”.

“And how can you tell?” Poppy lifted her aching head after a short pause of silence, that tiny and resigned smile still there, apparently impossible to remove despite Suki's reassuring words. “How can you know that for sure, Suki? Of course, Branch is my boyfriend and I should blindly trust him... ok, I really do trust him, but at the same time I have my doubts about this particular situation. I just don't know how he and the others will react! What if he doesn't want another family and decides to just... go away, leaving me behind?”.

“Leavin' ya behind? Are ya kiddin', right?” Suki loudly slapped her forehead, sticking out her tongue and rolling her orbs, a little bit exasperated, trying to talk some sense into her beloved, childhood friend: “I can bet on it because ya already are his new family, Poppy. With you, Branch found serenity, will to live and deep love, all over again.” the reddish musician crossed her chubby legs, leaning against the back of her yellow couch lazily. “That stubborn survivalist won't let ya go or have second thoughts about the beautiful relationship ya two share... well, mostly because I would fuckin' kill him and then punch his lifeless, fat cadaver if he just tried to abandon ya... The others and Peppy will surely support your life decisions, like I'm doin' right now. But we must tell this to the gang as soon as possible, ya don't have a lot of time, besides their trust depends on it. Six or seven days before the birth, ya said?”.

“Ahaha yeah, pretty sure that's exactly what I said, within a week. You won, you won, I'll do it!” the Queen merrily laughed in front of her protective best friend, finally convinced and a little bit reassured. “You are completely right about this Suki, I should tell everyone as soon as possible. This night I will organize a little party here at 7:00 p.m., with an excuse of course, and then inform the Snack Pack, my dad and Branch. I hope it will turn out ok.”.

“Now ya're talkin', girl! It's settled!” the dj gave Poppy an high-five, immediately jumping up and stirring her tense back and limbs. “Com'on, we have a lot to organize and plan, no time to waste! I'll warn the Snack Pack now, ya warn Peppy and your paranoid man, alright?”.

The pink haired Troll nodded and stood up as well, one of her hands gently caressing her own belly in a weird, unconscious gesture that was starting to become pretty common since... the very beginning of her pregnancy. “Alright. See you all tonight at 7:00 p.m., right in front of my pod.” Poppy replied with a playful grin, walking towards the doorway and saying goodbye to her best friend. “I hope it will be ok. I really hope they will be happy about it...” the colorful Queen repeated in her mind, almost like a mantra, a small part of her still rightly scared and unsure. “Oh, and Suki... thanks for your advices.”.

“No problem, girl. I'm always here for ya, don't ya ever forget that.” Suki gently replied, winking and walking Poppy to the front door. “Don't worry too much and take care of yourself, remember that there's a little one inside that belly.”

That night was incredibly beautiful, magical and especially calm: the moon was standing high and proud in the clear sky, and all the bright stars were clearly visible, not even a single cloud could hide their majestic and reassuring light. And along with the darkness and a big group of familiar, loud guests, even Poppy's long awaited moment had inexorably arrived, after all. “Ehy, people! Glad you could make it! Don't just stand there, come on, come in!” the Queen quickly gestured, opening her door and making way for her jumping friends, old dad and perfectly composed boyfriend, that was looking at the Snack Pack with a pretty pissed and irritated look. Savage beasts...

“Poppy, how are you today?” Branch sweetly greeted the pink haired female, kissing her right cheek and staring at her with a pretty confused look. “While we were waiting, Suki said that you've got something very important to tell us all. What is it?” he asked then, tilting his chubby head to the left side in a strangely stupid but yet adorable way, according to the pink, royal Troll.

“Yeah, I actually do have something to say. Umh, very well... everybody, take a seat and listen up!” Poppy cleared her throat and shrugged, waiting for the others to get comfortable and ready for the big announcement. With the corner of her magenta eyes, the nervous Queen spotted Suki smiling at her, trying to encourage her bestie. “Alright, emh... you all know that Branch and I have been a couple since a pretty long time now. Well, more or less.” the chuckling female started her speech, grinning at her life partner and keeping up: “Either way, it feels like an eternity, a beautiful, amazing eternity. I'm sincerely having the best time of my life with you all, friends and dad, and with you Branch, by my side. But now, very soon, we're gonna be blessed with a new, tiny arrival in our lives, pretty much because...”; that was it, that was the moment or truth. Poppy took a deep, deep breath and relaxed her throbbing mind for a brief second, suddenly pronouncing those exciting but also scary words: “I'm pregnant.”.

The reactions Poppy got were pretty various, she had to admit. Her beloved father, after a moment of pure shock and surprise, rapidly got up and immediately hugged his daughter to his chest, tightly, to express his joy and congratulating non-stop. “This is a wonderful new, my dearest Poppy! I'm so glad for you and Branch! Everyone, I'm gonna be a grandpa! But when?”.

The twins, Biggie, Smidge, Fuzzbert and Cooper pretty much gasped with big smiles (well... Fuzzbert kinda smiled on the inside), joining their ex-King in the hug and talking without stopping for entire minutes. “Oh my god Poppy, you are seriously pregnant!? We must start to design new clothes for the baby as soon as possible, we'll start tonight! We'll make tiny socks, tiny hats, tiny pajamas, tiny scarfs, tiny gloves... but wait, will it be male or female? That's a problem, what color should we use!?”.

“That's absolutely amazing to hear! But...” Guy Diamond, despite his natural happiness, in that moment had a pretty lost and dumb look painted on his glittery visage as he tapped Suki's shoulder and whispered her a question in the ear.  “Suki, how did they make a baby?”. Needless to say, the musician replied with an eye roll, a firm slap across his face and a cold comment: “Dumb fuck.”.

And what about Branch? Well, his reaction was the cutest, but even the strangest in the whole group's opinions. In fact, after hearing that Poppy was pregnant, that she was carrying their unborn child, the small life they both created with love and passion... silent tears of emotion started to flow from his touched, wrinkled light blue eyes as he sank his face in his bigger and callous hands, crying. “P-Poppy... I... you... we...” the ex-survivalist managed to call her name between his sobbing, approaching his girlfriend and hugging her as well, nuzzling the Princess' neck and wrapping his purple hair around her magenta one, in a very protective gesture.

Understanding the situation and the couple's actual needs, the Snack Pack and Peppy slowly exited the room, leaving the two alone to talk in private.

Still weeping against her comforting shoulders and shaking in her familiar arms, Branch bit his lower lip and expressed his biggest fear, confiding completely with his love: “W-what if I mess up, Poppy? M-my parents weren't around while I was growing up, I... I don't know how to be a d-dad, I don't want to ruin our kid's life...” the bluish Troll sadly admitted, feeling like a total failure and leaning against Poppy, hurt and defeated in body and spirit.

“Mess up? Ruin a life? Branch, don't you ever think about this.” the pink, royal Troll caressed his wet cheeks and held his visage, trying to make eye contact with the ex-survivalist. “Branch please, look at me. You won't ruin its life, you won't mess up, I can bet on it. You are the most responsible, kind-hearted, brave, smart and gentle Troll I've ever met. If this child, if our child is just a fraction of who you are... it will be an upright and dignified sovereign, trusted and loved by everyone. Branch, you always trusted your instinct, do that this time as well. You would never ruin a life, 'cause you were capable of making my own life way better.” Poppy tenderly cooed, kissing his dry lips gently and sloppily, adding a few other words after they parted. “Are you... happy about this baby, honestly? Do you want to start a family with me?”.

“H-happy? Why are you even asking, my love? Of course I am, I do want to start a family with you, Pops!” Branch nodded with great decision, holding his beloved Queen closer and still not totally able to prevent some of his warm tears from streaming down, too excited about it. “D-do you really think I'm fit to be a dad? Despite my still grumpy personality and moody behaviour?”.

“I'm completely sure, dork.” the always positive Queen kissed his big nose, pressing their foreheads together and sighing when she felt the ex-survivalist's hands caressing her smaller body. “One week and it will come, you know.”.

“I will be ready, Pops.” the bluish male simply replied, suddenly knealing down and pressing one of his pointy ears against her tiny belly, as if he wanted to communicate with their unborn child. “I promise I'll be more than ready to meet this little guy or girl that day.”.

And he kept his promise.

One week later, Branch and Poppy were silently lying on a comfortable hospital bed, their colorful and teary (Branch's, to be specific) eyes staring at a tiny, little baby girl wrapped in a scented and delicate towel that the Queen was lovingly holding against her body. The little girl had pinkish skin and magenta hair, almost like her mother's but a just little darker, but a few locks of hair (the top part of it, especially) were purple, just like Branch's color. When the kid opened her eyes, the royal couple immediately noticed that her right one was light blue, and her left one was magenta. Heterochromia? “She is beautiful.” the ex-survivalist silently said, sniffing just slightly and then cuddling both his girlfriend and daugther, proudly watching the newborn play with one of his chubby fingers. “How do we name her? Any idea?”.

Well, that was a good question indeed. But the answer kinda came out from the inside after just a few seconds, leading Poppy to think about all her previous fears, insecurities and, especially, hopes for her future, for their future.

“Hope.”.

[yourautumnrose-blog]

Chapter Three

By the time they got to the valley of the trolls, Rylen could barely walk. He was breathing hard. Helen was growing impatient.

“You must run a lot,” the boy said, “I can barely keep up with you.”

Helen smiled as she said, “I love to run! We can rest if you’d like, but we’re almost to the Troll King’s cave. You must speak with him.”

Rylen stopped for a moment, put his hands on his knees and dropped his head. After a minute of heavy breathing, he said, “Let’s go, I’m ready.”. As Helen leads Rylen through the valley, the boy looked around, the lake was surrounded by the pine trees and huts, their walls were made of mud bricks and the huts had straw roofs. They entered the dark cave. It took a while for their eyes to adjust to the shadows, and also the silence. The cave blocked out many sounds from the forest. Rylen seemed frozen at the cave entrance for a few moments, but after Helen waved him ahead, he trudged forward.

The two human children found the Troll King snoring on his rocky throne. Rylen’s eyes were huge at first as they approached him. The king was a very large troll; Helen guessed that Rylen was scared of just how big he was. But soon, Helen started giggling because the king still hadn’t heard them, and Rylen relaxed and smiled when he saw that. Helen decided she’d play a little joke on the king, after all, she was free now to go and do what she wanted. She cupped her hands around her mouth and yelled directly at the king, “Your Majesty!”

The king of the trolls was startled and gasped in his seat. It took him a moment to look down at the children. “Who dares to disturb my slumber?” He growled at them.

“It’s me, Helen, your majesty.” The girl said while she curtsied. The king glared at her, then at the boy, then back at her. 

Helen giggled nervously. Maybe she shouldn’t have yelled in his face. She added, “I brought a friend to meet you.”

The king looked back at the auburn-haired boy. “And who is this new friend of yours?”

“His name is Rylen Chairn.” After Helen said his last name, it seemed to echo again and again throughout the cave.

The king glared at them in silence, for so long that they became very nervous. Suddenly he rose to his feet, took his scepter and slammed it into the ground in front of him. The children backed up, and the king’s eyes focused in on Rylen. “Child,” he boomed, “Do my old ears mistake me? Are you from the House of Chairn?”

Rylen shivered in fear. “Uh… uh, yes… your Majesty. Why?” At that the two heard footsteps skitter from outside the cave. They turned and saw that a crowd of trolls were rushing in. Helen saw Fern among them. Soon, the children were surrounded by them. The trolls were all looking at Rylen, and each whispered to each other about “A child of Chairn”.

Fern placed a hand on Helen’s shoulder and said, “What have you done?” It worried Helen so badly, it was like a heavy weight in her stomach. Rylen seemed frozen in place.

“Silence!” The Troll King shouted. The trolls stopped their chatter and knelt in front of their king. He beckoned to Rylen with his scepter. “Come closer, boy. I shall tell you of the prophecy.”

Rylen walked to just in front of the king and knelt like the other trolls. Helen did the same.

The troll king raised his arms and began to speak in the old tongue. It was a strangely beautiful language, and Helen couldn’t usually understand every word, but she knew what he now said to them. He then repeated himself so that they could understand, “Hair as black as raven feathers, skin, white as snow, and blue eyes cold as ice. A child born to the House of Chairn shall have a frozen heart and rule a frozen world. This is the prophecy we trolls have guarded for generations. We look for the signs of the one with the frozen heart, and warn all those who will listen.”

He gazed upon the crowd of trolls, and then down at Rylen. “Boy,” he said, “This day, my magic has whispered to me as has happened only a few times in our history. It has told me that there will come a time when you become a grandfather. It is one of your grandchildren that will bear the frozen heart in their chest and fulfill the prophecy.” 

The trolls gasped. At that moment Rylen fell back, and the air was sucked from his lungs. A vision came to his mind. There was a little girl with black hair and blue eyes staring at him coldly. She began to age rapidly before him. Her skin became blue to match her eyes. Suddenly, she was wearing a large white fur cape, and a tiara of jagged ice shards. The woman raised a silver staff of ice towards the sky and from it burst a lightning bolt which tore its way up and through the clouds with a crack of deafening thunder. The woman began to laugh like a maniac, her back arching and her eyes closed. Snow began to dump from the clouds and swirled in the wind.

Rylen was shivering uncontrollably when the vision ended. Helen had run over to hold his hand. He was freezing, and had turned very pale. His face seemed twisted in horror. “Rylen!” She nearly screamed, “Are you okay?”

The boy’s eyes connected with hers. “You… you’re insane.” He looked around at the other trolls crowded around him and shouted, “You’re all insane!” He jumped to his feet, pushed down a troll and ran out of the cave screaming.

Helen started to run after her friend, but a stern voice stopped her. “Helen!” She turned to look at her mother, and behind her the large King of the Trolls who watched quietly, his hands resting on his scepter.

Fern marched towards Helen and grabbed her hand. “Come with me right now.” Helen flinched and then let her mother pull her out of the cave.

Helen had been pulled by her troll mother almost to their hut when she decided enough was enough. Fern had said she was free now! Why was she being yanked around like a child again just a day after being told that her life was now hers? She felt betrayed and angry. She slipped her hand out of her mother’s grasp. 

Fern turned around to face her daughter. She straightened up to her full height and towered over her. She was practically fuming with rage. “How dare you bring a child of the House of Chairn to this valley, after all that we’ve done for you!”

Helen shrunk back seeing her mother so angry. “I-I’m sorry Mama! I thought he-”

“Have I taught you nothing, Helen? You naughty girl… you’re always misbehaving! I told you not to bring such a boy to the valley!”

“I’m really sorry, Mama, I-”

“I am not your Mother! Twig and I should have ignored your stupid cries so you’d starve to death!”

Helen stared at her for a moment in shock. Tears began trickling down her cheeks. “I… I thought you loved me…” She said.

Fern looked around, and down at her feet, and then with a growl said to the human girl, “I never loved you. My father, the King, forced me to raise you, a foolish little human!”

Helen wiped away her tears with the sleeve of her dress even as new ones fell from her eyes. “I… I don’t understand. You called me your little forest princess. You gave me warm baths!”

Fern sighed, shaking her head. “I had to be a nice and loving mother because my king commanded me to do so! I didn’t want to be banished from my home! I can’t believe I mothered a human welp for five years! I’m sick of it!”

Helen’s sniffles turn into a wail and she cried with as much anguish as she had ever felt. If freedom meant to be alone and unloved, it wasn’t worth anything.

Fern grunted and then sighed. “You are no longer under my care, Helen. Now, go! Run as fast as you can and never return! You aren’t welcome here in this valley.”

Helen turned, wiped her eyes, and did just that. She didn’t want to spend another second with this brutish troll who had called herself her mother. She’d find a new home.

Fern watched her run off into the woods, and stood waiting to see if she was truly gone. She shook her head to get her mind off her aching heart. Instead of hearing Helen’s tiny footsteps and sniffles approach, she heard much larger movement behind her. Twig, her mate, was there.

“You don’t have to be so harsh on that little girl, Fern.” Twig said in a low voice. He had seen it all.

Fern wouldn’t have it. “You think I’ve done wrong! You shouldn’t talk! This is all your fault!”

“My fault? You’re the one that led us to that child five years ago!” Her mate furrowed his thick brows in confusion.

Fern snarled back at him. She didn’t know what was right, but she knew it made her feel better to pretend she did. “I never want to hear another word from you again!” She yelled, then stomped away. 

Twig watched her leave, surprised. He had never seen her so angry before. He sighed and started walking back to his hut.

Helen ran as fast as her small legs could carry her through the forest. All of a sudden, she tripped on a rock and fell to the ground. A fresh wave of tears rolled down her cheeks. She sobbed and looked up at the trees. They swayed in the wind, and Helen calmed herself until all she could hear were the quiet sounds of the woods. She remembered then, she still had the whistle that Fern had given her. She pulled it out of her pocket and looked at it. “Mama…” she sniffled to herself. She rose from the ground, put the whistle back in her pocket and continued down the trail.

Rylen burst through the front door of his cottage. His aunt Lisle looked up from a pair of knitting needles and a scarf she was making. “Rylen, you’re home!” she said, smiling, “Just in time for dinner.”

Her nephew was breathing heavily and shaking. Lisle frowned. “Rylen, what’s wrong? You’re so pale. Did something happen?”

“A-Auntie, he-help me.” He said. His aunt got up from her chair, came over to him and felt his cheek. 

She gasped, “You’re cold! Come, let’s warm you up.” Lisle guided Rylen to the rug near the fireplace and sat him down. She took her own place in her chair.

“Now, what happened with you and Helen at the valley of the trolls? Did you meet their king?”

Rylen bowed his head and shivered. When he looked up again at his aunt, he was crying. “He told me about a prophecy, auntie. I don’t want it to be true!”

He couldn’t say anything more, just hugged himself and cried. Lisle reached over and gently stroked his hair. “Oh child, it’ll be alright. Rylen, I’m here for you. We shall see what happens when the time comes.”