#which is hard to realise because she went from servant to queen

[mr-and-mr-pendragon]

Great analysis! Italian chef's kiss level post

I have to add this, as part of Gwen's loyalty to Arthur and generally being lovey dovey with him (which was in the context of this all-or-nothing situation as beautifully laid out above) Gwen also had to care for Uther when Uther was sick! That's the guy who had executed Gwen's father! I find this the worst offence. And not once did Arthur consider how that must feel to Gwen!

This angle is not presented in the show, I think we're just meant to believe that Gwen simply loves Arthur enough (to look past her father's execution? are we meant to forget about it by that episode?), that she's genuinely such a helpful person as to care for Uther.

But all the time I felt that Gwen, as much as she was fond of Arthur, had been cornered into going along with his every whim. Be a secret girlfriend? Ok. Be courted? Ok. Care for sick Uther and pretend that you love doing that? Naturally. Be banished even though you were enchanted? Thank fuck she's at least alive, right? After all that, marry Arthur and pretend to have no residual bitterness about anything? That's what a girl's gotta do in a man's world.

It was interesting to me how in season 5 Gwen did show bitterness and her personality was much hardened compared to her s1 self. It must have been a tremendous pressure to be queen; I don't think people around her forgot her steep status rise from one moment to the other.

And the other side of this love triangle cannot be left unmentioned either. Lancelot just fucks off all the time! He loves her and he loves her a lot which she reciprocates, but he doesn't consider her feelings at all. He doesn't ask Gwen what she wants. He just lets Arthur have her, we're sort of led to believe that he does this out of courtesy, realising that Gwen wants Arthur, not him, so he steps aside but is that true? Based on Gwen's reaction in the morning it's not. It just feels like Gwen is treated as a commodity between these two men and since Lancelot doesn't want to shoulder the commitment he lets the higher ranking man have her. I really wanted to see Gwen's story more from her perspective. Something like the episode where she's captured by Morgana - finally it's addressed that these two women have a really complicated history with each other! I wanted more episodes that delve into how Gwen feels...

On Guinevere and her marriage

This was originally written in response to this post, but turned into a very long rant about why BBC’s Guinevere was as much a victim of contract marriage as the Guinevere of legend is, because BBC Merlin is very, very problematic.

Keep reading

[sunnycanvas]

Could you do a what if in unfaithful baldwin what if before she jumped into the river he managed to capture her..... this story is very good you are a great writer

Warning: depression, talk of suicidal thoughts and character death

Author strictly warns readers to proceed with caution. If you are sensitive about these topics under any circumstance please don't read further

Alternate ending

Just when I jumped into river and I was swimming towards my freedom. The knights caught me. I tried fighting hard. Hitting, punching them but they didn't even bulge and pulled me off shore. I started screaming and crying like a mad woman. I could see pity in some of them but most most had neutral expression. "(Y/N)" my husband said relieved and began approaching me. With intention to hug me but I looked back at him with such resentment that he stopped. He literally froze in his place. "Your majesty". I said coldy and I knew even though my husband was expert when it came to his composure I was able detect his tense body movement. "I know that I have committed a crime against my lord" "I know that our relationship won't go back like before therefore I ask you as a punishment I have done against crown that I be beheaded for my crime". Baldwin IV looked heartbroken at my statement and said "Chérie, do you think I would be so cruel to execute my own wife, the woman who saved my life". I laughed in pain and said "In return you killed my life, I shouldn't have saved you" "I payed a huge price I admit I regret it". I could hear gasps around me but I didn't care. It's not like I had anything to loose anyway. Baldwin IV was shocked I could see he was getting angrier but I could also see another emotion his eyes which I couldn't tell pity,sadness or fear which one is it? Baldwin IV let out a sigh and said "Queen (Y/N) you have not only insulted the crown but also wished for king's death which in eyes of law is treason and the punishment for this should execution" "However I can't forget the love and devotion you have shown to same crown and saved your king before therefore I have decided to spare you". Tears fell from my eyes when I heard the statement. "Chevalier, get the queen on top of my horse". I was seated on top of my horse and Baldwin IV with the help of his knights climbed up on the horse. I kept quiet as Baldwin held me tightly in his grip and we rode off. When we went back I saw mistress in the palace eagerly waiting for him. She smirked seeing my state and could tell by my husband's cold face that he was in sour mood. Once Baldwin IV was able to get down from the horse with help of his knights he pulled me down along with him.

"Your Grace" the mistress gave a graceful courtesy. I knew she was expecting my husband to call her in his chamber. My husband didn't even bother acknowledging her and went straight into the palace carrying me in his arms. Once we reached his room he slowly laid me down in his bed. He laid on top of me and put his face near my neck and smelled me breathing my scent "I missed you" he said.

"........."

"You know when you left like that I must admit I did feel insulted but deep down I was also hurt and worried about you"

".........."

"What if my enemies captured you, do you realise how reckless this was" "No matter how many women I sleep with I will always come back to you because at the end of the day you are my queen". "The woman who saved my life and nobody can and will take your place" "Do you understand that, I will always be your husband at the end of the day"

"........."

"Are you going to ignore me, my dear queen" Baldwin IV smiled mischievously "My queen has been rather cheeky going against me" "I knew you were rebellious but not to that extent"

"........."

Baldwin IV sighed realising there is no point now. Before he left he asked servants to bring fruits for queen. He quickly left for his work chamber. He sat down rubbing his forehead. "Chevalier" he commanded. "My lord" the knights were instantly summoned. "Tell my mistress that that she is not longer welcome in Kingdom" "She shall be exiled". The knights bowed at the command and instantly left.

Baldwin IV POV:

"If I pamper her with love and pay attention to only her then perhaps within time she shall forgive me" "I should get a jeweller and dress maker with finest material for her and spend every time free I get to be with her" "It will take time but hopefully (Y/N) and I have relationship like before ". Baldwin IV thought as he began to work. It was evening and Baldwin IV heard sounds of rain and thunder. Baldwin IV smiled remembering how much (Y/N) loves rain. "Hopefully her mood is better now". "I hope everything is alright, in case she is still hurt about our situation then I will let her go" "If keeping her with me will bring her pain then it's best we part ways" . "I should see her hopefully she is feeling better now". I thought as I went to my chamber

"(Y/N)" I called as I knocked on the door. She didn't respond. "Perhaps she fell asleep I thought" however judging by what happened today I doubt she would fall asleep. "I guess she doesn't want to see me now". I thought but for some reason I had a bad feeling about it that something is seriously wrong. "Chevalier, break the door" I commanded and my men instantly broke the door and what awaited me was far worse I could ever imagine. Inside laid my beloved wife with knife in her chest. I scanned the surrounding wondering where the queen got the knife from and saw the table with fruits inside the basket. "The servant must have left the knife with it so that the queen can cut and eat the fruits" I thought "Quick call a doctor" I commanded before I knew it. My men quickly left and I ran towards my beloved

"No!" "No!" "Why!?" "Why (Y/N)!? "Why!?". I hugged my wife and started crying uncontrollably. The doctor came and asked me to step aside I reluctantly let her go . I waited patiently with hope for (Y/N) to be alive but based on doctor's expression I could tell I was too late.

"(Y/N)"!!! I screamed as the it rained heavily with thunder defening my scream

"(Y/N)" I woke up drenched in sweat. I turned to look myself in mirror and saw my old appearance. "It was a nightmare" "It's been quite a long time since then" I thought. I slowly turned to look at the glass painting in my window to image of my beloved late (Y/N).

"(Y/N)" I said her name as tears fell down my eyes. I looked outside and saw heavy rainfall and heard loud thunder. "Just like back then" I thought. I got up and dragging my old body I went near my beloved I leaned forward and kissed my beloved's face. "The picture doesn't do any justice" "You are lot more beautiful in real life you know".

"........"

"Of course just like back then you aren't responding" "I should have known I had killed you back then moment I decided to give in my temptation" "A good follower of lord doesn't give into temptation but resists it" "Perhaps it would have been good for you if you never met me" "After you left I decided to be a good follower of our lord" "I took vow of chastity and attend church every day praying that our lord spares you from damnation of hell". Baldwin IV let heavy tears fall down his eyes as he said that, he chocked in his tears and said"For loving a leper, I was already disfavoured by lord, therefore he punished me with leprosy" "Hopefully he shows mercy to you for showing kindness to leper". I cried bitterly. I wept in front of her but it was too late. She was already gone

[aloststarproject]

Idea for story.

1. The SAN’AKU.

The three villains working underneath the main villain. They transform into these small creatures to go undercover to find out more about my main two characters. They were sent out to find Takashi to find out his strengths and weaknesses so Akaoni can defeat him and those who are close to him. She wants nothing more then to destroy everything he holds dear before ending his life. So she sent out the SAN’AKU to find out more about him and his people, but SAN’AKU being themselves they like to cause chaos and mess with people so of course did a bit of that wherever they could. They also did it to get Takashi to fight so they could find out his strengths and weaknesses better. When the SAN’AKU cover was blown they had to play innocent and pretend they were lost and couldn’t find there way back to there own planet and would cause trouble just for a little fun, and they didn’t mean anything by it (which is what they said to Takashi and Hoshi when they found them). So of course Hoshi and Takashi helped them find their planet and while traveling with them they got to find out even more about Takashi and Hoshi and started to grow to like them. However the SAN’AKU are loyal creatures and wouldn’t portray their queen. They also didn’t know how much pain Akaoni wanted to inflict on them. They kept Akaoni updated with the information they get from Takashi and once she knew they had been discovered and is trying to find the SAN’AKU hows planet (which got destroyed by the same meteor that destroyed Akaoni planet) she told them to lead them to her new planet which she rules over, so she can finally take her revenge.

2. The reason why Akaoni hates Takashi so much.

Thousands of years ago there was a guy called Isamu from the planet Emotavia. He is Takeshi’s grandfather. When Isamu was young he believed there was a planet out there just like his planet but more advanced. He wished to get in contact with that planet to gain more knowledge, but that the time Emotavia had not successfully made a spaceship safe enough to explore in. So he came up with a device that can detect sounds from the heist frequency possible, and can translate what that sound is (ie. If someone is saying something in that frequency but in another language he would be able to hear and understand it) but it could also mimic that frequency. So for days he would give off this frequency that says “is anyone out there” and because of the translation berry he used to make the device, no matter what language you spoke, if you could hear his frequency then you could understand what he said. Weeks went by with no respond, and just as he was about to give up he got a reply. This was from Akaoni. On her planet it is natural for them to have amazing hearing, but Akaoni was born with a special gift where she can hear the highest frequencies from worlds away, but only if it’s at the highest frequency. She heard Isamu call out and responded. They were both very surprised there was someone out there, and how different and far away their planets were. But none the less they became close friends immediately. They would talk to each other all the time, while their friends and families thought that they were both weird thinking that they were talking to themselves. Soon they ended up falling in love, and the impatience of wanting to see each other grew stronger. So Akaoni worked hard creating the first spaceship with the help of Isamu. Akaoni’s planet was much more advanced so it only made sense for her to build it, but she didn’t know a lot about building things and normally has servants doing everything for her. Once she successfully made her spaceship she quickly said her goodbyes and flew off to see Isamu. It took a long time to find his planet but once she did they were so happy to see each other. They spent a lot of time with each other and sooner or later Isamu was ready to give Akaoni one of his rings. However from being with Isamu she realised how she took her parents for granted and how awful she was to her friends and everyone else around her, she felt that her past was holding her back from having a new life with him.. so she made a promise to go back to her own planet to make amends before coming back and marring Isamu, however Time moves strangle in space.. and when she arrives back to her planet it was destroyed. Not a single survivor.. she was left devastated and when she needed him most, Isamu didn’t respond.. she went back to where his planet was and it was completely gone.. so she started to resent him and blaming him and his planet, over time she started thinking that maybe this was all part of his plan, to lure her to his planet while he sent the rest of his friends to destroy her planet. She grew to hate him and the rest of his planet more then anything else, and grew more and more power not just by strengthening her own power but by taking over planet after planet to gain their powers as well, so that one day she might find them and finally get revenge.

Now the reason why Emotavia was gone when she came back was because she was gone for 500 years, and with that time humans discovered Emotavia and their planet started creating successful spaceships and all kinds of things. But then war fell upon the Emotavuan’s and the Human’s. In which the Humans managed to push Emotavia into a black hole, never to be seen again.. Takashi looks a lot like his grandfather and so when Akaoni saw him, she thought that Takashi was Isamu and he just lied about his name, cause let’s face it, she thinks everything he’s told her was a lie. Little did she know how far from the truth she really was..

[handy-dandy-monster-candy]

Ruathym, part Three

Rating: NSFW Length: 2272 Pairing: Male Drider x GN Reader

The finale for the romance for @kim-monsterlings!

xxx

Much to your surprise, Ruathym gives you space. There are fewer summons and the spies make themselves ever scarcer, until you could swear there were long stretches of time in which you were truly alone. Even more surprising, you found yourself becoming restless and ill-tempered in these moments, losing your patience with even Tinki. (Of course, you make it up to the little, well-meaning creature; spiders, you learn, are surprisingly good at puppy-dog eyes.)

“You’ve been snapping at the staff left and right,” Ruathym says with no small amount of amusement some days later, braiding your hair down your scalp. It’s gotten longer, you realise, and you contemplate cutting it before your captor speaks. “Have I displeased you in some way?”

Yes, you wish to say, but you’re sure that the King has done nothing wrong. Not truly. “No,” you say instead, though it sounds unconvincing to your own ears.

“Hm,” hums Ruathym, tugging gently at your hair in admonishment. “With the way you’ve been acting, one might get the impression that you dislike being far from my side.” You twitch and he laughs, triumphant. “Is that it, my little bug? Have you come to crave the pull of my silk?”

“I wish you wouldn’t mock me,” you grouse, sighing heavily. “It reminds me why I prefer my own company.”

Ruathym chuckles, fingertips skating along the skin of your back before he picks you up and cradles you against him in his four arms. “I thought humans needed time to mourn their losses,” he says, searching your face with something sharper in his eyes than his usual derision. “I��m no reader of minds, my sweet. You must tell me if you have want of me.”

You scoff. You can’t help it. When has being vulnerable ever served you well? You almost bite his fingers when he turns your face to look into your eyes, sighing once again in your defeat. “And if I do?” you challenge, lifting your proud chin. “What of it?”

“Then you shall become my consort,” says Ruathym, with a simple frankness that flabbergasts you.

“Your—what?” you gasp, distantly aware that your lips are flapping like a fish on the docks.

“Do try not to make me repeat myself,” Ruathym replies in exasperation, pinching your chin. “My consort. My lover. Whatever you humans call those of our stations in courtship.”

“But I’m human!” you splutter, struggling to sit up straighter in his arms.

“I’m aware,” drawls Ruathym, helping you get your bearings—at least physically. “Did you think I was sleeping with you because you disgusted me?”

“I…” You don’t have the words. You don’t know what you thought, but it definitely wasn’t this. “You think I’m attractive?”

“What did I just say about making me repeat myself?”

You huff, scowling up into his handsome, angular face. “You wouldn’t be. I want answers, not riddles.”

Ruathym snorts indelicately, one of his few habits that doesn’t come with some modicum of damnable grace. “Yes, I find you attractive. No one else has the audacity to speak to me the way that you do. I find it thrilling.”

“You mean you like it when I’m cruel.” You frown. “That’s not what I’m after. I don’t want to be cruel to my lover. If you want to court me, you do it right.”

Ruathym carefully sets you down on the bed, curling his legs up under himself and draping his humanoid torso across plump, velvety pillows. “Teach me what humans do ‘right’, then,” he commands, gesturing for you to speak.

You flounder for a moment; this was not how you expected your evening to go. “We… We court,” you say dumbly, gesticulating helplessly. “We exchange gifts of trinkets and flowers, we write one another letters, we—well, usually there’s pining involved, I suppose.”

“How dull,” sighs the King, watching you beneath his thick, silvery lashes. “Driders kill for their lovers.”

The weight of his words isn’t lost on you. You think of your brother and his knights—of the entirety of the kingdom laid to waste at your feet. You feel lightheaded, blood creeping up your neck and up into your face. You have to resist the urge to hide from the slow, smug smirk of satisfaction that melts onto the Drider King’s face. Damn the man. Had he been courting you in his own way this entire time? Damn him!

“What about the Queen?” you ask, hedging around the obvious revelation and latching onto one of your more prominent doubts.

Ruathym blinks hard, clearly startled. “What about her?”

“You’re married,” you say, “and she hates me. Won’t she want me dead once she realises her lover’s attention has strayed?”

The King laughs, hard and loud, throwing his head back with his mirth and revealing his fangs. “She’s never loved me a day in her life,” he manages to gurgle after several seconds of laughter, “and the feeling is mutual. We married for politics and to spawn strong children. That’s all. If she so much as schemes to harm a hair on your head, I will kill her or die trying.”

“Ruathym!”

“What? Does it shock you? I protect what is mine, little bug, and you are what I wish to possess in your entirety.”

You bristle at this, though you curse your stupid heart for fluttering in your chest like a tizzied moth. “I’m not a thing, Ruathym. You can’t possess me. Either you love me, or our arrangement remains the same.”

Ruathym shrugs an elegant shoulder, expression shifting into something bordering on thoughtful. “What is love to a human may not be love to a drider, little one. I want you, more than I’ve ever wanted anything in my life. Is that not love? I would kill you before I allowed you to court another. Is that not love? I would lay down my life to protect you. Is that not love, this powerful, ugly thing?”

You don’t know what to say to this. You want to object, but your heart is pounding too loudly, your thoughts are too muddled. Never has someone felt so strongly about you, and while your feelings are conflicted, you can’t deny that there’s something intoxicating about the King and his firm command of you in and out of the bedchambers.

Courtship with Ruathym is… interesting. He sends you poisonous flowers at first for their beauty, unaware that their very touch could kill you. When you correct him, he expresses his disdain for human frailty, but then he sends for roses and takes the care to have their thorns removed so as to avoid any chance of injury. It’s excessive and obnoxious, but it’s endearing in its own way, even if you’ve never been particularly fond of roses. Still, each bouquet is a different colour paired with different complimentary flowers, and you begin to look forward to your weekly deliveries with something like anticipation.

Then there are the letters.

As expected, Ruathym’s lettering is swooping and elegant, more reminiscent of ornamental calligraphy than what one would use for writing to a lover. Still, each letter holds within it a terribly sweet awkwardness that lets you know that he’s never written a letter out of love in the whole of his life. He’s strangely formal at first, addressing you by all of your names in the greetings of his first few letters, but it isn’t long before he’s dropping them all in favour of addressing you as he does in person. It makes your heart flutter oddly in your chest to see ‘little bug’ written in such beautiful, glittering script, shimmering silver on charcoal grey parchment.

Soon, they become less letters and more little notes delivered on scraps here and there. Tiny doodles of advisors dying terrible deaths done in the throes of boredom, or tidbits of trivia from the kingdom at large. Did you know we had 5,363 cattle in the region of the L’Surba Caverns? Neither did I know nor care, one says, and you snort into your tea at the thought of the King sitting proudly while some poor sod with an abacus counted out their livestock from the sum of several reports. While you missed the weight of your crown, you did not exactly miss all of the bureaucracy attached to it.

He takes you on little outings, here and there. At first it’s a simple stroll through the gardens, sharing meals and speaking about your days. Then, as you both grow bolder, outings to meet—or, in his case, intimidate—the people. Finally, with glamours and enchantments, you take to the countryside for days at a time, disguised as a couple or adventurers on a quest. It’s during these outings that you get to know him best, away from the bustle of the castle, where his impetuous charm and rakish smiles lure you to him like a moth to flame, and you crash and burn in his heated embrace.

One evening many months later, you are summoned to a part of the palace that you rarely frequent, for it is usually crawling with servants and vassals of every kind. Now, however, the halls are quiet and still, and the servant who leads you to the chamber where Ruathym awaits disappears like a whisper in the dark. There, in the centre of the room, is a set of robes unlike any you’ve ever seen, woven in shimmering silk dyed the colour of rubies. You approach as if in a dream, running your fingers along embroidery in the shape of tiny silver spiderlings along the shoulders and hems—you nearly jump out of your skin when the King drapes himself across your back.

“What is this?” you whisper, looking over your shoulder at his soft, searching face.

“Your wedding attire,” he says, and he seems unperturbed when you draw away, stunned.

“My what? Your wife!”

“Is dead,” Ruathym simply replies, shaking his head at your unasked question. “We had a clutch of eggs. She went the natural way. The children feed on her yet.”

You grimace at this, though you can’t deny the relief you feel at her passing. “You’re a father now?”

“I am. You will also be their parent, when we wed.”

“‘When’? You’re assuming I’ll accept!”

“Would you deny me?” he asks sharply, eyes narrowing into gleaming slits.

Your stomach flips. “Well,” you say, flustered and at a loss. “This is all so sudden, Ruathym!”

“Is it really?” he asks, reeling you in against him again. “We’ve posed as newlyweds before. Why is it so different now?”

“Because it’s real now! We wouldn’t be pretending!”

“Who says that I was pretending before?” he demands, trapping you between his body and the robe on the mannequin. “It was practise.”

You feel your face burning, and you’re sure you might blend into the robe at your back if given just a little more provocation. “You despicable little—“

“Yes, yes, call me names,” he says, waving away your insults. “Later. Give me your answer now.”

“You know my answer,” you grumble, pushing ineffectively at his chest.

“I know it,” he confirms, smugness in every syllable. “I wish to hear it.”

You kiss him instead, drawing him into a passionate embrace and climbing up into his arms when he lifts you off your feet. You hadn’t seen the bed in the corner of the room, but that’s where he takes you a moment later, tossing your “irritating human clothing” over the edge of it and onto the floor. You expect him to bend you over the pillows. You expect him to claw at your skin, to bite at your shoulders, to whisper filth into your ears.

He kisses you instead.

He kisses you like neither of you have ever borne a crown—as if he could find the answers in the hazing of your eyes when he steals your breath with his tongue, hands in your hair and burning along your spine. He teases you open with his fingers until you’re reduced to begging for release, and then he presses into you with soft, shuddering breaths spilling from his lips, eyes on your face as you toss your head back into the sheets and writhe.

He sighs your name like a psalm when you come around him, and then he pushes into you again and again, his cool fingers threading between yours and holding you firmly against the bed as you shake apart beneath him. You feel something in your chest unbreak when he bites you without fang, staying present for every moment that his lips brush against yours and your name falls into the pool of heat between you.

This time, when he comes, he shatters like a shower of glass and sparks, cresting against you like a wave and pushing you over the edge all over again, throat trapped desperately—willingly—between his teeth. When your eyes focus again, you find him looking down at you with a tenderness you’d never thought him capable of, and it makes you want to hide. “What?” you whisper up at him, trying and failing to tug a bit of the sheets over your body.

“I love you, little bug,” Ruathym whispers back, tracing your lips with his thumb. “I have done and will do so until this heart in my chest stops beating.”

“That’s so dark,” you say, “for a declaration of love.”

“It is my declaration, and I am not a man of light. Would you deny me?”

“No,” you breathe, shyly reaching up to touch his face. “I love you, too.”

Ruathym smiles, and despite his words, it lights up the room. “I know.”

You snort. “Bastard.”

“I know that, too.”

[natvrefairy]

Hi, I saw ur request rules and wondered if I could ask for a merlin X reader (romantic) and it's like really fluffy? Thx 😊

A/N: Of course! I'm so happy my first request is for Merlin, because both him and the entire show are just so iconic. I really hope you like this. :)

Something Meaningful (Merlin x Reader)

Requested: Yes!

Reader Pronouns: They/them

Word Count: 1,529

C/W: Uther is dead. A little bit of self-doubt on Merlin's side. Occasional rant. A little bit of stream of consciousness. (Cause I'm experimenting with that technique.) Fluff!

Context: Morgana's alive and good. Mordred and the rest of the knights are also still alive, but they're not really mentioned. Arthur and Gwen are King and Queen. Arthur's allowed magic in Camelot, and they know about and accept Merlin! And LGBTQ+ is accepted! (Cause reader is they/them, and there's no angst here. ^^)

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

When Uther died, Camelot was a bit of a mess. Not that it wasn't before; Uther's reign wasn't a particularly cheerful one. But although he wasn't the kindest person, people still loved him, and his death simply came as a shock to everyone.

Arthur took it the hardest. But honestly, that was to be expected. When most people lose their parent, they get time to grieve, but Arthur didn't have the luxury of time. Uther died, and Arthur was thrown into power.

The first few months were the worst. Not just for Arthur, but the whole castle. But with Guinevere and Merlin by his side, he got through it. And with Arthur as King, it no longer mattered what anyone thought of his relationship with Gwen, because she was now the Queen.

But with Guinevere becoming Queen, a small issue arose. The Lady Morgana no longer had a servant.

Morgana, being as lovely as she was, truly didn't care about the loss of her maidservant. She still had her friend, and enjoyed her independence. But her brother thought it necessary, so the job was given to (Y/N).

Gaius didn't appreciate losing his other helper, but he couldn't say no to the King, so that was that.

But then, Gwen also needed a servant. And once again, the job was given to (Y/N). Merlin most definitely did not approve of his best friend's drastic increase in work load.

"I always knew you were an ass, but I didn't realise you were stupid as well." Merlin told Arthur the following morning.

Arthur's new title as King didn't change Merlin's attitude towards him in the slightest.

"Merlin, you can't address me like that."

"I did before, why is it any different now? Your highness."

"I am the King."

"Doesn't change the fact that you're an ass."

(Y/N) managed to talk Merlin down, but that didn't mean he liked the idea of them having to rush around everywhere all the time. Although, at least it was only Gwen and Morgana, who were both perfectly capable of taking care of themselves.

If it was two Arthur's, that would be an entirely different story.

That was about two years ago now. Camelot has had law changes since; such as the lifted ban on magic, allowing people to freely practise their gift, and the new acceptance of anyone identifying as other than cisgender/heterosexual.

And finally, at long last, the land of Albion was united.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Having both grown up in Ealdor, Merlin and (Y/N) were always close. (Y/N) would constantly seek out Merlin and William, the three of them soon becoming best friends. When Merlin set off to Camelot, (Y/N) tagged along to look out for him, Will staying behind with his father.

Unlike Merlin, (Y/N) didn't possess any magic. But although being completely normal, they always went out of their way to try understand what their friend was going through. They never understood Uther's hatred towards magic. Even without having any themself, they absolutely adored Merlin's gift. Witnessing him in action never failed to put (Y/N) in a state of awe.

But of course, Merlin is much more than his magic. That, (Y/N) always knew, even when he didn't believe it himself. They were always there for him, and he was always there for them. That was how it always was, and how it always will be.

Which is why it was so hard for either of them to pinpoint exactly when their feelings grew. They always cared deeply for each other, but at some point, both completely unaware, those feelings blossomed until they were both completely and utterly in love.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

The two friends were granted the evening off, and unbeknownst to (Y/N), Gwen and Morgana had something up their sleeve. Having long figured out the pair's mutual yet oblivious feelings, the women decided to take matters into their own hands.

This involved giving them the evening off, and directly telling Merlin to confess.

"I'm sure they feel the same way," Gwen encouraged, "I know it's hard, but try something meaningful. If you can't say how you feel out loud, do something special instead."

So here Merlin was, a nervous wreck as he lead (Y/N) outside of Camelot, to a small forest clearing. What if they didn't like it? What if they turned him down? Then it could lead to disaster and they won't want to be his friend anymore and everything they had built will go to waste.

"Merlin," (Y/N) grasps his hand, immediately gaining his attention, "whatever has you stressing out, it's okay. I'm here, and I always will be. We'll face it together."

Taking a deep breath, he had them close their eyes, before gently leading them in the right direction. Glancing around to make sure everything was in place, he tried his best to calm his nerves.

'You can do this,' he thought to himself, 'you can tell dragons what to do, and they listen. This should be easy.'

"Merlin?"

"Oh, right, sorry. You can open your eyes now."

Opening their eyes, (Y/N) gaped at the scene before them. A rug laid out on the grass, all their favourite snacks and fruit laid out in front of them. Glancing between the dinner and Merlin in a combination of joy and surprise, they struggled for words.

"You did all of this?"

"Well, I may have stolen some things from the kitchen, but... I hope you like it?"

(Y/N) laughed - one of Merlin's favourite sounds - and pulled him over to sit down.

"Thank you."

Just their smile was enough to calm Merlin's nerves, and everything melted away as they began to eat, telling stories and laughing. Everything between them seemed perfect.

That is, everything except for the unsaid feelings.

As they finished and the moon began to rise, they cleared up a bit before laying down to stargaze.

"Star-gazing was a good idea," (Y/N) said softly after a while, turning their head to face Merlin, "but I have to ask, what was this all for?"

"What? Aren't I allowed to just spend time with my best friend?" Merlin replied, a little too quickly.

"Of course, but that's not what I mean. You seemed really nervous earlier. I can tell when you want to say something, Merlin."

He turned his head away in embarrassment, so (Y/N) shifted their body to properly face him.

"Hey, look at me," they said, placing their hand on his cheek and tilting his head back towards them, "you know you can always tell me anything. We've been through so much together. Nothing will scare me away."

Merlin gazed into their eyes in silence for a moment, before speaking up, voice barely a whisper, "It's hard to say it out loud. Can I just show you?"

"Of course. Whatever's best for you."

Slowly, he moved one hand to rest on (Y/N)'s cheek, hesitating slightly as his gaze shifted between their captivating (E/C) eyes and plump lips. Finally, deciding it's either now or never, he leaned forward, tilting his head as he captured their lips in a tentative kiss. He felt them stiffen slightly, his heart racing as his mind flooded with unwanted thoughts. This was the end. They were going to shove him away and never speak to him again.

But then, the thing he expected least of all happened; they actually reciprocated the kiss.

Their hand moved to his hair, butterflies going wild in their stomach. They never expected him to feel the same way about them, and now they couldn't even think straight. The only thing they could concentrate on was the feeling of his lips on their own.

Eventually, the sweet moment came to an end, leaving each of them completely breathless, faces only inches apart. They gazed into each other's eyes, catching their breath while they both tried to process what just occurred.

Then, all at once Merlin freaked out and started a rant, desperately trying to explain himself. Apology after apology flooded out of his mouth, raving on and on about how much he loves them and how he probably ruined everything and should have just kept his feelings all to himself.

(Y/N) cut him off with a small kiss on his lips, leaving him staring at them in shock when they pulled away.

"I love you too, Merlin. I thought I was so obvious about it," she laughed softly, gently running her fingers through his hair. "I'm so lucky to have you in my life, and I'm glad you feel the same."

His shock vanished, and he gave that heartwarming smile of his as he wrapped his arms around them, pulling them close. "You have no idea how happy that makes me."

And so they stayed there like that, laying and enjoying each other's company in the comfort of their mutual feelings. They stayed there until they decided it was time to head back and face Gaius' concerned wrath on them staying out so late. But for once, it didn't bother them listening to his lecture, because their lives had just changed for the better.

[groovyzombiellama]

My Powerful Queen

Title: My Powerful Queen

Requested? Yes.

Plot: You are a powerful magician that’s under the wing of one of Arthur’s mages and when he goes to help the future king, you two meet and get close. When you’re found out to have more power than anticipated,you get kidnapped by VIkings and Arthur saves you, confessing his feelings in the process, and when you recover and tell him you return his feelings, he asks you to be his queen.

Word count: 2427

---***---

“That’s right Y/N, just focus your energy and don’t forget to control your breathing.“ Your teacher was instructing you how to master one of the newest spells that he had taught you. You had a bit of trouble when you first tried it, but with all of the practice and your teacher’s guidance, you were getting better and better at it, soon you’ll be able to use it without worry that something might go wrong. You were proud of yourself and how you were able to control yourself, even though it still takes you some time to regain your composure after being interrupted before the spell was done. Which is what happened this time, as the door swung open and a woman in a grey dress rushed in. You felt dizzy for a moment, and your teacher held up his hand in front of the woman, instructing her to hold on, as he checked on you. You nodded your head, to affirm you were alright, not trusting your voice, because your vertigo was still blurring your vision. As you finally felt like the room had stopped spinning, you heard your teacher talking with that woman who rushed into your house, and they were mentioning Arthur, the future king, the one man who managed to pull the enchanted sword out of the stone.

The woman was in a rush because of Arthur’s inability to control the sword yet, and she, as one of his servants, was afraid he would harm himself or someone around him if he doesn’t get someone to help him control the sword. Your teacher agreed to go over to the future king and offer his help. You quickly offered to go with him, and even though your teacher was still suspicious if you had recovered enough, he agreed, but kept a close eye on you. You had never really seen Arthur before, so you were really interested to see what the future king looks like. But you didn’t expect your vertigo to make a comeback when you finally saw him. Although the butterflies in your stomach were stronger, as your eyes met his blue orbs. This time your head was spinning because of his handsome features, but when he smiled at you, you immediately felt a rush of energy, as if he was your battery, and all you needed to get back to full power was him, and his smile.

Your teacher spoke to Arthur and introduced you as one of his strongest magicians, perhaps the strongest in the land, which intrigued Arthur, as well as one other person, in a black cloak, observing the future king and his guests. After your teacher had given him some instructions, he insisted he had other work to tend to and couldn’t help him further than that. “I could help him!“ That came out a bit faster than you had intended, even before your teacher finished his last sentence. Both men looked at you and you tried to redeem yourself, saying that the people might feel more safe to put their trust in a ruler that had control of his weapon, and since you never involved yourself in your teacher’s business more than he let you, you figured it would be good to not spend your time between practice doing nothing. And you wanted to spend some time with Arthur, you couldn’t deny that he intrigued you as much as you intrigued him. Your teacher agreed, since the work he needed to tend to was out of town, and he didn’t feel too comfortable leaving his most powerful magician alone, and he trusted you enough to know you had what it takes to help Arthur.

“If you hold it like that, you might poke your own eye out, your highness.“ You said, seeing the way Arthur was holding the sword, earning a low chuckle form him, as he let the tip of the sword to the ground, asking you first, for the fifth time now, to stop calling him royal terms, because he was not a king yet, and even then, he wouldn’t want you to call him that, since he believed you were more powerful than he could ever be. He wanted the two of you to be equals, and even offered you to be his right hand when he’s king and you finish your training. It made you smile that he had such high regards of you, and said you’d consider his proposal, after he actually learns to control the weapon he’s wielding, getting another chuckle from the blonde man in front of you. God, you could get used to hearing his laugh. But before you could get more lost in your thoughts, he was asking you the second thing. “And how do you propose I hold it, oh powerful one?“

“If I should’t call you highness, you shouldn’t use any other terms than my name, Arthur.“ You accentuated his name a small bit, and walked up to him, stopping at his side and grabbing his hands, a small shade of red coloring your cheeks, but you tried your best to focus on the task at hand and placed his hands on the handle more properly, which Arthur acknowledged gave him a bigger advantage when he wielded the sword. During these practices, the two of you got closer with each other, and would often sit down in the grass after training and just talk for a bit before going back to the castle. After a few months, the two of you knew a lot about each other, some might even say you knew more about him than about yourself and vice versa. You don’t know when you started having these feelings, but it wasn’t hard to determine what they were, you were slowly falling in love with Arthur. You didn’t want to try and determine what Arthur was feeling, because you didn’t want to face the rejection. You thought you were shooting way too high, he was the future king of the land, you were not on the same level as him.

However, you had no idea that your world would turn around completely, as the cloaked figure from the first time you met Arthur was following you the entire time, waiting for his time to strike. And he finally saw his chance when one day you were waiting for Arthur to come to practice and he was running a bit late, because of some issue that happened in the castle. You noticed a figure approach you from the woods, completely the opposite way that Arthur usually comes from, but the cloaked figure ended up being one of the Vikings who were trying to take over the land, and after hearing about you being the most powerful magician in the land, this viking figured that if you were as powerful as they claimed, you’d be perfect to help them. And when Arthur finally reached your usual practice place, you were nowhere to be found. At first he thought you were playing a trick on him, as you had already once hid in order to surprise him before practice. But after some time and a bit of searching for you where you would be able to hide, he realised you were really not here.

He didn’t know what was going on, and only when he came back to the castle did he find out, from one of the servants who went to the forest to chop some wood, and upon his return, he noticed, that some cloaked figure approached you and hoisted you over his shoulder, and regardless of how much you kicked and screamed, he just walked away with you further into the thick forest. That made Arthur’s blood boil and he was soon getting suited up with his men in order to look for you. After hearing how the servant described your kidnapper, he realised it was one of the Vikings, who had somehow infiltrated the castle without anyone noticing him, so he ordered his men to go in the direction of the viking village that he had seen on the shore. At that same village, you were living your worst nightmare. Your body was covered with cuts and bruises that you were sure would get infected if you don’t escape thes dungeon soon, and you could barely stand, your whole body in pain. You probably even had internal bleeding, but you were still not gonna give the Vikings what they wanted. You didn’t want to betray your people, and especially Arthur.

You didn’t know how much more you can take, because these people have let you know that they won’t hesitate to kill you if you didn’t help them, as that would also be in their benefit, getting rid of someone that powerful from the enemies side is almost as good as getting that someone to work for them in the eyes of the Vikings. In your head you regretted so many things that you could have done before this and you didn’t, somehow your thoughts mostly revolved around Arthur, but you tried your best to convince yourself that he didn’t care about you all that much and that he wouldn’t care if you were dead or alive. Even the first time they beat you up, you were too weak to even try a healing spell, not to mention that they didn’t let you recover for too long before they were back. This was it, this was where you die, and you were slowly comming to grips with it, when you heard commotion in the house above the dungeon where you were held. You did your best to get up on your feet. If they are comming back to finish you off, you were not gonna let them hit you while you were down. You were gonna show them that you were strong even in your final moments, and that was one of the reasons why you were considered so powerful.

But when Arthur ran into the dungeon and your eyes met, you couldn’t believe it was him. You thought it was just your mind playing tricks on you as he was the one you wanted to see in your final moments. When the viking he had captive finally opened the door of the dungeon, Arthur rushed to you, and it was only when you felt his hands embrace you did you realise it was real, he was here, and you let your tiredness and pain take over as you collapsed in his arms. He quickly picked you up bridal style and surrounded by his men exited the dungeon and passed the dead bodies he had to go through to get to you, not caring at the possibility of starting a war with the Vikings. He had to get to you, he had to save you.

Seeing your weak state, Arthur worried if you would be able to survive the trip back to his kingdom, but he was determined to do everything to make sure you do, so that his healers could help you. He didn’t want to lose you, and even though you were barely holding on to life at that point, you could still hear him telling you not to give up, to stay with him. “Please, just fight it, please stay with me. If you leave me, I’ll never be able to tell you how much I love you. These few months I had started having feelings for you, but when I heard you were kidnapped, and seeing how badly they hurt you, it made me realise that those feelings are love. I’m in love with you Y/N, and I promise that, if you fight this and stay with me, I will never let anyone harm you ever again. I’ll protect you with my life. Please.“ You couldn’t believe Arthur felt the same way you did, but no matter how much you tried, you couldn’t find your voice to tell him that you felt the same, even when you felt his warm tears falling onto your upper arm. All you could do was give it all you can and fight to survive.

Arthur stayed by your side as much as he could while you were recovering, thanking god that you were still with him, and swearing that once you were finally back to full health, he’ll ask you to be his queen. You had finally recovered, after quite some time, but you knew Athur being there for you sped up the process. It was about a week before Arthur was to be proclamed as king, and you were finally back on your feet, feeling strong enough to perform a healing spell on yourself, and get yourself back to you peak performance. You walked back to that patch of land where you and Arthur once practiced and you saw him training on his own, stopping abruptly once he saw you. A small smile tugged on his features, but you could notice how worried his eyes looked. “I’m fine, if I wasn’t I wouldn’t have come here. Don’t you want to hear my answer to your confession?“ That had gotten Artur’s attention, and that small smile on his face grew wide when you told him that you felt the same way, that you loved him just the same as he loved you. He didn’t let you go on for too long before pressing his lips to yours in a gentle, but passionate kiss.

“I’ll be coronated in a week, and every king needs a queen. Would you do me the honor of being mine?“ Arthur said as the two of you parted from the kiss, eyes still closed, and foreheads rested against each other. That had you pulling away and opening your eyes in surprise. You asked him if he was sure of what he had just said. “Of course I’m sure, my love. You love me, I love you, why wouldn’t we get married and spend our lives together? You’re the one I want. I almost lost you, and with that I realised that I can’t imagine life without you.“ His words ringing in your ears, especially “my love“, you smiled and kissed him again, after which you once again confirmed you accept his proposal, verbally this time, proudly admiring your future husband beaming down at you with his wide smile, that smile, the one that you couldn’t wait to spend the rest of your live waking up to. “I love you, my king.“ “I love you too, my powerful queen.“

---***---

@blackispink00​ I hope you like it, and I’m so sorry it took so long, Tumblr deleted some of my messages, so some of my requests got lost :) I missed having Charlie on my blog <3

Also, since Tumblr had somehow deleted some of my messages, if the person who requested an imagine with Colson Baker through my messages rather than the askbox sees this, please send in your request again and I’ll do it immediately if I haven’t done it yet, bcs I’m not sure if I’ve done it or not :D

[lokixreader]

Just a simple maid (soulmate au)

Requested:

Yes

Words:

4,044

Summary:

Y/n, an Asgardian maid, seems to be the soulmate of prince Loki, and for some reason she always wears long sleeves.

Warnings:

A lot of crying, sleep deprivation, ANGST, panic attack (kinda), sadness, tears, some more crying and a lot of bad writing

A/n: alright first soulamate fanfic, let’s hope for the best

A/a/n: finally I’m back, but only shortly. I recently redound some inspiration and will to write and to try being present on my blog again. But now I must warn you. I wrote this in the span of 2 years more or less, and for how impossible it might seem, I lived a lot of things in 2 years. This has been specifically written in 3 different periods of my life which would be a few months before, during and a few months after my depression. I hope you will enjoy it, and to everyone that is going through what I have, please I beg you, be strong. Carry yourself and keep going. Even if it hurts. Talk to someone about it. Someone who will understand and not treat you as attention seekers. Remember that you are loved, that even if you don’t have anyone now, life works in unexpected ways, and that maybe tomorrow you will find those people or that person that is willing to love you, perhaps not romantically, but trust me, aromantical love is the best. You will get through it. It doesn’t matter how hard it gets. You’ll get better. You will be better. You deserve it. And you are not alone❤️.

As a maid, you have never imagined yourself in a higher rang then where you already were and never expected something more. Children often imagined themselves being a lot more then what they were, imagined being princes or princesses, kings and queens, gods and goddesses and so on, but not you. You only dreamed to be free. Free from everything and everyone. Being raised as a servant blocked your dreams. You never dreamed what the other kids did, you didn’t want to be a goddess, you didn’t want to be a queen or a princess, all you ever wanted was freedom. Something that you never tasted since you turned 19. Exactly. 19 was the official age when a girl born from a servant became one as well.

Your mother was a wonderful and loving person, the best person in all of Asgard. She was the queen’s servant and Queen Frigga, being the sweet and kind person she was, often left you to play with her sons, Prince Thor and Loki, giving you the possibility to grow up with them too, and so you did. You were practically the same age as Loki, who soon became your best friend. Strangely, like probably not all of the royalty would do, he never treated you as a servant, but as a friend, and Thor did the same, leaving the servant-treatment aside. Time passed fast leaving child you, child Thor and child Loki behind and welcoming yourselves as adults. When you turned 19 and became a servant, for how much Thor and Loki claimed to care for you, they couldn’t do anything to solve your situation, those were the rules and the laws of Asgard and breaking them would have meant for them to go against the throne that one day one of them would have sat on. However, you couldn’t blame them, and you did the only thing that remained: you dealt with it. You were a maid. You couldn’t change it. You simply decided to keep it that way. But then again, when you turned 500, after centuries of service, you finally found a joy. In fact, when an Asgardian turns to the age of 5 centuries, they get strange writings on their arms, because of soulmates, as you once read on a book. When you started having writings on your arm, you went directly to your mother, who explained what a soulmate was and how it worked, better than any book could.”Y/n, darling, a soulmate, as the name already explains, it's a person whom you share a close relationship and a deep understanding. It's someone made to love you, that destiny decided you would be in love with. You can't hate them nor not love them, it’s a deep connection that can't be broken ” she explained to you, and you asked curiously ”What are these writings on my skin? How can I find this person?” and you kept making questions ”This writings are something that your soulmate wrote on his own skin to contact you. In fact, this is the only way you can find your loved one. You are lucky. Some people, unfortunately, never find their soulmates”. That night you received another writing on your arm, and you didn't hesitate to answer. 

 Hi

Only that, nothing too special, but you still responded

Hey

Nothing too special either

What are you doing?

Compared on your arm and you answered

Just talking to you, nothing much, you?

And he answered, and you two kept talking for longer than 3 hours. When you realised how late it was you wrote:

Oh, it is so late! We should go to sleep!

Even if you didn’t want to leave.

Wait! Do you think that we could meet tomorrow?

You suddenly found on your arm.

Tell me your name and I will find you

You wrote back, even if you weren’t sure that you could have, due to all the work you had to do tomorrow. But then reality hit you harder than ever.

I am Loki Odinson.

Oh great gods, oh great gods! Loki Odinson, Loki, that Loki, practically your best friend since childhood!

From that moment you stopped writing and since that night you promised yourself to avoid Loki, for how much you could, due to the fact that you were one of his maids.When you dressed up in the morning you chose a long-sleeve dress, in order to hide the writings on your arm and, without even thinking about meeting him, you cleaned his chambers only when he left them.This is what you did for almost a month, but it couldn't last forever, and you knew it. What hurt you the most was shutting Loki out, he was your best friend, always there for you, and now you just let him out, but obviously, he kept writing on his arm to talk to you, to see if he was the one that did something to you. He kept on writing and writing until your arm didn't start to hurt. It started to hurt every time he wrote something, every word, every letter, getting worse and worse, but you couldn't ask anyone for help, not even your mother, because you couldn’t risk her knowing that your soulmate was Loki. Again, you did the only thing that you could do, you dealt with it. When you found the time, you went to the library to find any reason why the writings caused you pain and any way to stop it. Today was one of those days when you had the time to go to the library. The library was a huge room, full of shelves and departments, with millions of books of every genre. You went to the section where you found the books on soulmates when you were younger. You had been searching for it the whole day and you didn't find it. You could see from the huge window that it was getting dark outside and that you should have gone to your room, so you decided to leave. The following morning you got up with a stringing pain in your left arm. Again. Loki had probably been writing on his arm for most of the night. He often did that, without thinking that it hurt you, or maybe he just didn’t know. Then you looked at your arm, not surprised in finding many questions such as “What are you doing?” “Where are you?” or even “Who are you?”. You didn’t answer any of those, you didn’t want to, you simply couldn’t, so you just got out of your bed and dressed with a long-sleeve dress, as always. Then, you got to Loki’s chambers, when he left them of course. He wasn’t a messy person, in fact he was quite the opposite, even if sometimes it might happen that he left his bed un-maked, mostly because he was late for something or he had something to attend to. You started making his bed, and picking up a pillow which probably fell while he was sleeping, you found a book. You weren’t surprised, Loki loved reading just as much as you did, and it came to you without a surprise that he read in bed before sleeping, or even for the whole night. But what surprised you was what the book was about. On the brown cover, in a beautiful golden writing there was written ‘Soulmates: the lifetime bondage’. This was te book you were searching for the last day! And it was in Loki’s room, but why did he have it? The answer suddenly popped in your mind: you weren’t answering him when he wrote to you, so he was probably searching for the reason why. Opening the book and going through its pages, you saw a few notes here and there, till you didn’t reach the chapter about ‘not answering soulmates’ and you started reading carefully.

“Not answering soulmates:

When a soulmate does not answer to the question the other soulmate wrote on his arm, there are more reasons why it happens:

- The soulmate does not answer because of its own will

- The soulmate might not be capable of answering

- The soulmate might be dead”

The last part made your heart drop. Did Loki think of you as dead? No, he couldn’t, you were right there, alive and well! But he didn’t know, you never talked to him. You rolled up your sleeves, looking at all the questions he wrote, between them there were some “Are you alright?” or “Are you safe?” and similar. Tears started appearing in your eyes, one already falling on your cheek: you didn’t realise you started crying.“So you found the book” a voice said behind you. You rolled down your sleeve, got up from the floor you were sitting on and took in all of his form, recognising it as the younger prince of Asgard. “L-loki, I was not expecting you here!” You said. “I know, I had a very important meeting, which I actually did not have to attend” God his accent, you had really missed his voice. “Anyway, how come that I have not seen you in a while?” He asked “I..I have been busy..” you lied. He smirked. “Y/n-“ “I know, I know you are the god of lies and you know that I lied” you stopped him in the middle of his sentence “I was about to say that I know you since we were children, it is impossible for me not to know” of course you thought “So, what is this truly about?” you had to tell him the truth, but you couldn’t, not this way “I am just having problems with my soulmate” you said. Half truth and half lie, or better only truth and an omission. ”That is interesting, I am too” You were surely surprised that he said so “Oh, really, why, what is happening with them?” You tried to pass the topic on him rather than on you “I think you do already know by reading the book you are holding” he said. You looked down at your hands, finding the book “I am sorry, Loki. But do you know why they are not answering?” You tried to get the informations by directly asking him. “Unfortunately, I do not, but I do have an idea” you but your lip “Do you believe that they are dead?” He sighted “They might be..” he said without daring to look into your eyes. You felt so bad for avoiding him and leaving him without telling him anything. “Oh, Loki” you sighted and gave him a hug. He was startled after feeling your arms around him but then he gave in an hugged you back “I missed you” he said, burying his face in your hair. “I missed you too” you said back. When he stopped hugging you, you stepped back and tucked a stand of your hair behind your ear “Now if you excuse me, I think I should change your bed sheets” you said to him “Yes, of course” he agreed. You started packing the sheets so you could take them more easily and started heading for the door when Loki asked “You know that it is June, don’t you?” You slowly turned around and gave him a questioning glare “Isn’t it too hot to wear long sleeves?” He said. What am I going to say now? You asked yourself “I just liked the dress” you justified, immediately leaving the room, not noticing the smirking god. That was close. The days passed and you couldn’t help but being sorry for Loki. Sometimes you could see him wandering in the corridors near his chamber, with the book in his hand, a pen in the other, a rolled up sleeve and, to conclude his look, two deep bags under his eyes: to say that he was visibly tired was a misunderstanding. He was completely sleep-deprived. This situation was getting out of control and seeing him like this made your heart feel only pain and pity for the younger prince. This, till the day you finally had enough and decided to talk with him.

You knocked on his camber door, putting so much effort in such a small gesture. When you received no answer was the moment you started questioning yourself, but gathering all the courage you still had in yourself you entered, despite him not telling you to do so. Then you saw him. You saw him and you felt full of emotions: sorrow and regret were the first ones, then joined by happiness and joy for finding your best friend again.He was on the balcony, reading, a concentrated expression on his face, probably not even noticing you entered the room due to the lack of sleep. Or probably he had, but couldn’t bring himself to care in that moment. “L-Loki?” you quietly spoke his name, getting his attention... “Mmh?”.... more or less...“Loki?” you called for him again. When you didn’t get his full attention, you brought his face to you, locking your e/c eyes with his green ones. In doing this you could see his tiredness and sleep deprivation, the way his eyes had lost the sparkle they once had.“Loki, look at you! What have they done?” You asked him genuinely worried “I can’t find them, they won’t answer me! What have I done? What has happened to them!?” Loki yelled, tears picking at his eyes. You couldn’t do anything to him, so you hugged him, holding him to yourself in attempt to comfort him. He then let himself go, sinking in your embrace and crying, crying on your shoulder. When he finished you wiped away his tears, looking in his eyes “What is wrong with me?” He suddenly asked you.“There is nothing wrong with you, Loki, you are perfect. You are not the problem, it is them, they do not know what they are missing, and if they really do not want to be with you, then move on and let them see your true greatness” you said with a small smile forming on your lips, making a similar one appear on his face. His eyes were looking into yours, like trying to get to your soul. “Now, you need to get ready, there is a ball tonight you need to attend to” you said, looking down to the ground to avoid his gaze. “Come with me” he said “What?” You were shocked, did you actually hear well? “You understood, come with me” “I-should not, I-I mean, I am not important like the people that will be in the ballroom, and not even at your level to actually come with you” you stuttered “Oh, you got me wrong darling, you will not decide, this is an order, and please do not underestimate yourself like this” . That was... shocking to say the least. Not less then three second ago he was crying on your shoulder, and then he was giving you orders? Well, it was something he could do, but still, he never did.

You went to your room to get ready for the ball. What could you wear? You were a mere servant, you didn’t have a dress for such an occasion. But then, when you opened your dresser, you saw something that didn’t belong there: it was a beautiful long f/c dress. You took it to examine it and you saw all the diamonds it had on it. You were speechless, where did this dress come from? A little light turned on in your mind: Loki. Of course, who else could have invited you knowing that you didn’t have a dress for the occasion, just to give you a new beautiful one? There was only one last problem: the dress didn’t have sleeves. And now? What could you do? Make up on the arm? No it would be too much. Gloves maybe? Probably the best option.

After finishing getting ready you looked at yourself in the mirror. You felt beautiful, the dress looked perfect on you, the slight make up you put was perfect, and the gloves you found were perfect. Everything seemed perfect. You got out of your room, closing the door behind you and when you turned you found yourself face to face with the God of mischief.He looked at you, mouth slightly open, gazing at you from your feet to the tip of your head. “Is something wrong?” You asked, thinking that you had something out of place “No, you look ravishing”. You whispered a small ‘Thank you’ while blushing madly.

When you arrived at the ball room, you started feeling insecure. You were just a maid, a mere servant, and behind those doors were important people, princes and princesses, probably even kings and queens. Loki seemed to recognise your insecurity, since you felt him take your hand in his and lightly squeeze it. Now you could see why the destiny put him as your soulmate. That small gesture made you feel better, a bit more confident. You two then decided to enter the room.The night seemed to go well, and by well you meant that no one of the royalty approached you, except for Thor of course, who had come just to see you, since it has been a long time from the day you had last seen the blond prince. He started talking to you only when Loki had left your side “Hello, Y/n “ he began “Greetings, Prince Thor” you said back. He then chuckled, making you laugh; you had always greeted him like this as a child, a small obligation from your mother, who wasn’t used to you being friends with the princes. You then went on talking about the past months and what you had been doing, including the reasons why you couldn’t spend your time together.

“Alright, say that one more time.”

“Thor, I have already told you three times” you complained.

“I just need to understand why you have not told him yet” he insisted “How can you not understand? Loki is a prince, a god, and one of the most perfect people to ever exist, how could I ever stand next to him. I am nobody compared to him, Thor. I am just... just a simple maid” you explained, pain almost visible on your lowered face, you were feeling miserable just thinking about it, about your unimportance and how at times it made your life a living Hel. You were taken back to reality and away from your thoughts by a hand being put on your shoulder. You looked up to see an understanding sad smile plastered on Thor’s face “You forgot to mention the most important thing: he is your friend” he gently spoke, emphasising the last four words. “He has been your friend for longer than I have, he has spent almost his whole life with you and has always cared about you deeply. It shouldn’t be so surprising that you two are meant to love each other, but still, you keep saying that it should not be like that, just because you are a simple maid. Well, you might be a maid, but you are everything but simple. You are one of the most amazing people I have ever met. You are intelligent, funny, curious and beautiful. And top of that, you are you, and have never been afraid of who you are. For all these reasons, I can say today that I am happy and proud of having you in my life, and I am certain that my brother feels the exact same way”

By the end of his surprising speech, you found yourself on the verge of tears. You had always been in the dark about them caring so much for you and had never thought that someone could see you in that way. The blonde prince then hugged you tightly, noticing some of those small tears fall down your cheeks

“Do you want to know a small secret?” He asked you and you nodded still hugging him, then he silently said “When you had to become a maid, you should have been my servant, but Loki insisted so that you could be his” your eyes widened. Loki wanted you...as his maid? “He was convinced that since you should have cleaned his room, which isn not usually messy or dirty, you could have more time for yourself and that he would have been able to see you everyday at least once” You abandoned Thor’s hug to look at him in disbelief. He moved his hand to brush away on of your tears “ He loves you” Thor said, so faintly and silently that you wouldn’t have heard him if you were just one more step away. That last sentence hit you hard. Everything Thor said hit you hard. The room which wasn’t so crowded immediately started to feel smaller and smaller. Your lungs seemed non-existent and your breathing increased. You quickly excused yourself before running away towards the balcony.

The outside fresh air seemed to calm you down, and to fill your new redound lungs. You were feeling normal again, up until you didn’t hear a well too known voice. “Are you alright? I came back to my brother only to hear that you run away here” his voice was like the one of an angel, beautiful and spectacular, but at the current moment it was slightly panicking you. But then you took a deep breath and exhaled. In the meantime Loki came closer to the railing where you were at and looked at you worryingly. After a few seconds of mere loud breathing, you finally spoke up “I know why your soulmate is not answering Loki” he looked at you with a confused face “We do not have to talk about them, it is about you I am worried now. Forget them and tell me what is wrong. I want to be sure that YOU are alright Y/n, not them” you looked away from him and broke into a small laugh.

Ah the irony.

And if Loki was confused before, now it was even worse. You looked back at Jim’s sad face , then you slowly took off one of your gloves. Loki’s expression changed from confused, to shocked, to surprised and finally to one you could quite muster, something between realisation and sadness. He gulped, closing his wonderful eyes, only to open them Almere moments later “Why.” Was the only thing he said. A cold expression hard to read or to understand. “I was afraid” you answered, tears already forming. “Scared? Scared of what?” He asked slightly furring his eyebrows “That you would have rejected me and abandoned me. I was afraid of not being enough for you or that-“ you didn’t finish your answer. Tears were falling on your cheeks without a care, but you were engulfed in a hug “I would never leave you, for no reason at all. I’ll always be with you.” You hugged him back, scared that the world might end if you even dared to let go.

Minutes went by, but both of you couldn’t care less of the time passing, you just stayed like that, in each others arms, after so much time divided. Loki then kissed your temple. “I wish I told you sooner” you apologised looking to the floor. His index finger lifted up your chin so that he could see your features “Me too” was what he said “but this does not matter, for we are finally together now” you smiled at him happily. He could have reacted in million different ways. He could have told you how much time he spent trying to contact you, how he suffered without you, how his best friend leaving him could have affected him. But not a word. Not even a mention. He was just genuinely happy that you were alright and that he had his soulmate in front of him. *how could I have been so blind to this* he kept asking himself, looking at the e/c pearls staring at him.

Unbeknownst to you both, a certain blond prince watched them together, kissing each other fondly, then observed them get back in hand in hand, finally happy.

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[heyyyharry]

Chapter 16: Night Before the Battle

(from ‘The Winter and The Crown’)

…in which Harry accompanies Y/N to meet the other queen.

Word count: 3.6k

AU: queen!y/n, commander!harry

Description: Y/N and Harry set off on a new adventure to find ‘the cure’ for an ancient curse, meanwhile, the enemies are plotting to take her kingdom.

Wattpad link (Reyna as Y/N aka Peach)

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Y/N and Harry arrived at the southern border at dawn and found a single tent with two horses outside. Calanthe and whoever had accompanied her must have camped here overnight. Y/N assumed it was one of The Monks; however, she’d never met any of them, except for the one who had been sent to kill her at the market last year.

Y/N dismounted Thunder, unsheathed the dagger at her side and tucked it into her riding boot. They would be asked to submit their weapons before Calanthe received them, and even though Y/N doubted Calanthe could hurt a single fly, it was still better to be careful.

Mary had come to see Y/N the other night, and if the witch had been honest, Harry’s and Lance’s speculations had been true. It wasn’t at all shocking to Y/N that The Monks were only using Calanthe as a chess piece in their game. Calanthe didn’t seem like the mastermind behind this elaborated plan, starting with the attacks at the borders and Harry’s capture. Calanthe was desperate and angry, but she wasn’t vicious enough to want to take over the world.

Hearing Y/N’s and Harry’s arrival, a tall dark man with a thick beard emerged from the tent, dressed in a large black cloak – the signature look of The Monks. He swept his fierce eyes over Y/N with his thick eyebrow arched. Her heart thudded violently as she held her breath in fear of him acknowledging the weapon hidden inside her boot. Thank Gods, he didn’t.

His dry lips spread in an attempt of a smile, which didn’t look at all genuine and less intimidating. He put a hand on his chest and took a bow before Y/N. “Queen Y/N, my queen was expecting you.” His gaze flicked to Harry’s sword. “You must submit all weapons. And your servant is not allowed to enter.”

“That’s my commander,” Y/N said.

The man gave Harry a scornful smirk as he told Y/N, “If you say so, Your Majesty.” Y/N glanced at Harry to see her lover have his fingers wrapped around his sword-hilt. It must take everything for him not to say something when being disrespected by the enemy.

“If Harry is not allowed to enter, he must keep his sword,” Y/N said.

The man held her stare thoughtfully before another eerie smile transformed his long face, sending chills right down her spine. He didn’t ask Harry to hand in the weapon anymore as he told Y/N to come with him.

The inside of the tent was dimly lit by firelight. Calanthe sat in her chair in her riding clothes, her hair tied up in a braid at the back of her neck. The shadow on the wall looked as though it wanted to engulf her. She looked small and young and helpless. Without Y/N’s uncle’s crown on Calanthe’s head, no one would be able to tell that Calanthe was a queen and not a young maiden being held captive by the evil man in the black cloak.

The inside of the tent was dimly lit by firelight. Calanthe sat in her chair in her long golden velvet dress with her hair tied up in a braid at the back of her neck. The shadow on the wall looked as though it wanted to engulf her. She appeared small and young and helpless. Without Y/N’s uncle’s crown on Calanthe’s head, no one would be able to tell that Calanthe was a queen and not a young maiden being held captive by the evil man in the black cloak.

“I thought I told you to come alone,” Calanthe spoke once the man had left.

Y/N took some time to study the Queen of Theros. A lot had changed about Calanthe since the last time Y/N had seen her in person. She looked sick with her bony physique, lifeless eyes and pallid skin. What had they done to her? What had she done to herself?

“Harry’s my commander,” Y/N said, keeping a straight face. “It’s not safe for a queen to travel that far on her own. And didn’t you bring someone as well?”

“Vossler’s my new consultant.” Calanthe rose from her chair, eyeing Y/N with contempt. “Since you killed the old one.”

“I’m not here to be accused of murder. I wasn’t in the castle that night.”

Calanthe tilted her head and pouted with feigned innocence. “Who should I complain to then? Your husband?” Her face turned cold. “Let me remind you why you’re here, Y/N. I asked for the witch. Where is she?”

Y/N’s expression remained unchanged. “I told you I came with just Harry.”

Calanthe’s eyebrows knitted. It wasn’t until now that Y/N realised how quiet it was. There was no sound but the crackling of the fire and the sighing of the wind. She wondered if Harry was still waiting for her outside. He wouldn’t leave her by choice. She could take down Calanthe, and hopefully, Harry could handle Vossler, unless this was a trap and they’d just walked straight into it. Y/N doubted it, though. The reckless little girl who’d been forced to put on her dead husband’s crown would probably have Y/N and Harry murdered tonight. However, Calanthe wasn’t playing this game. The Monks were.

“The witch belongs to me,” Calanthe said, pulling Y/N out of her thoughts. “You return her to me, and I will spare your life in the war.”

“I don’t ask for mercy in a war I’m not losing.”

“Even if it means you’d get to keep the North?”

“Get to keep the North?” Y/N scoffed. “The North belongs to me. I’m the rightful ruler and heir to the crown. My family is the oldest family that’s ever lived–”

“Said the only family member survived,” Calanthe cut her off. It was a jab in the heart, still, Y/N didn’t let it show. “The first High King angered the Gods,” Calanthe went on with a smug grin. “His bloodline would end with your death.”

“Is that a threat?” asked Y/N.

“I never threaten.” Calanthe’s brows were drawn together. “I guarantee that you won’t live to see your people bend their knees to me.”

Y/N chuckled. “Should it be easier if you kill me now, though?”

“And become the villain in the story? No, darling,” Calanthe asked with fake surprise. “I must win on the battlefield, my dear. But if you give me the witch, I’ll let you live to be a sad loser. You can keep the North, marry your handsome king and live happily ever after in your winter castle. But if you keep the witch, I’ll have to declare war against the South based on the fact that your brother murdered my husband, and you murdered George Wallace.”

“There’s no proof for either of your accusations.”

“Trust me.” A corner of Calanthe’s red lips lifted. “It’s so easy to convince the other kingdoms that you’re just as mad as your brother.”

Y/N swallowed hard, balling her fists. She wasn’t going to let herself be provoked by Calanthe’s harmless words. This woman wasn’t the real enemy.

“If you declare war with the North,” Y/N said, “you declare war with Attwell, too.”

Calanthe rolled her eyes and smirked. “With Rouxvania’s support, I would surely win.”

Y/N’s stomach dropped. “The East is on your side?”

“While you were too busy looking for the cure for your lover, I was busy nurturing my allies.” Calanthe turned her back to Y/N, facing the fire. Y/N caught a glimpse of two long scars on Calanthe’s right palm. It seemed like she had been learning to wield a sword. Y/N guessed The Monks was going to send Calanthe onto the battlefield where they’d make sure she would not return. They wanted all kings and queens to fight to the death so they’d take over one hundred kingdoms.

“They’re just using you,” Y/N broke the silence. Calanthe glanced over her shoulder, her eyes troubled. “They’ll kill you like they did to my brother and the first High King,” Y/N went on, keeping her voice as quiet as possible. “Egon and Lokesh also believed they were ‘the chosen one’. You’re their next victim, Calanthe.”

Calanthe whirled around as she snapped, “And why should I trust you?”

“Because I don’t want the South for my own,” Y/N calmly said. “And I’m not standing here as your enemy. I’m here as a woman who doesn’t want to see another woman suffer from abuse from men.”

Calanthe’s eyes squinted with doubt. “You’re only saying this because you fear you’re going to end up like every single one in your family. Dead.”

Y/N clenched her fists, now highly aware of the existence of the dagger in her boot. Still, she kept her composure. “I know you hate me because of what my father did to your family and kingdom. I am sorry. If I could go back in time and stop him, I would. But I can’t. I’m trying to help you now by telling you the truth–”

“You don’t know what the truth is,” Calanthe cut her off. “You think you’re so special huh? Just because you found the lake and survived the North Forest, it doesn’t make you special, Y/N. You’re just as twisted as the men in your family. Lokesh sold his baby’s soul for victory, didn’t he? And we both know you didn’t just ask a witch to bring your friend back to life for free. You killed you ba–”

Y/N didn’t wait for Calanthe to finish. She shoved Calanthe into her chair, drew the dagger out of her boot so fast that Calanthe could barely gasp when the shiny blade was held at her throat.

“Your Majesty, is everything all right?” asked Vossler as his shadow towered over the entrance of the tent.

Y/N applied a little bit more pressure to her dagger as she leaned in and whispered into Calanthe’s ear, “I’d cut your throat before he could set foot into this tent.”

She could see that Calanthe was trying her best to look calm while her big blue eyes were showing the opposite. “Everything is fine,” she told Vossler.

Y/N looked back over her shoulder and saw that Vlosser hesitated before he left. He probably suspected something was off but had no choice but to obey the command.

“I know you can’t kill me,” Calanthe said through gritted teeth.

Y/N turned back to her. “I can. I just chose not to because I’m not stupid.” Her fingers relaxed around the hilt of her dagger. “But as you can see, it’s very easy for me to kill you. And we’re not even on the battlefield, Calanthe.”

When Y/N pulled away, Calanthe let out a loud sigh as she immediately reached for her throat as if to make sure her head was still attached. Y/N thrust the dagger back into her boot, smiling.

Calanthe gave her a dismissive wave, too embarrassed to even make eye contact. “You may leave.”

Knowing there was nothing she could do to change this foolish woman’s mind, Y/N kept her thoughts to herself and walked out without a single glance back.

Outside, Harry was waiting with the horses while Vossler was sharpening his blade by the tent. Y/N could feel Vossler’s dark eyes following her as she exited the tent and padded straight toward Harry. His eyes stayed fixed on Vossler as he asked her, “So?”

She shook her head and mounted her horse. “Let’s go.”

Harry’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion, but he knew this wasn’t the right time to have this conversation. Giving Vossler one more glare, he got onto Lightning’s back. Together, they rode away.

When they came across a river, Y/N suddenly stopped, got off her horse and walked straight to the riverbank. She stood there in silence, just gazing out at the water.

Harry came up from behind her. “Peach, what happened back there?” He sounded worried. It made her feel bad.

She sucked in a breath and put her arms around herself. “I had a dagger at her throat, and she still wouldn’t surrender.”

There was a pause. “Peach, you can’t do that. She’s still a queen.”

Y/N whirled around to face a concerned Harry. “She’s an idiot. Now people are going to die. I can’t stop this war from happening.”

He sighed and placed his hands on her shoulders. “It’s not your fault. You can’t control everything.”

“Everything is my fault.” Her head drooped as her voice cracked. “This all started with me running away. I killed my father and my brother, and my uncle was murdered because of me.”

“You did what you thought was right at the time. You couldn’t have known.” He squeezed her shoulders gently. “You’re not responsible for their deaths. If I were to die defending you, it wouldn’t be your fault, either.”

Her heart stopped. She looked up into his green eyes. “Don’t say that. Don’t you ever say that. You won’t die.”

A knot lodged in her throat as his eyebrows sloped. “When someone dies, they die, Peach. You cannot stop it. But no matter how or when it happens, it will not be your fault. And you will not waste one moment on guilt.”

Tears blurred his features. Y/N couldn’t even think of something happening to Harry again. Losing him once was already too much. Other than Lance, Harry was the only person in her life who knew what kept me up at night. He knew her more than her own family had. It would be like losing her mother all over again, but she’d known long before her mother’s death that it was going to happen. Her mother had been sick. If Harry died under the hand of the enemy, it would happen suddenly. How could she ever recover?

“Tell me you understand that.” His voice shook her back to reality.

She didn’t want to understand, but she nodded nonetheless because that was what he needed to see. She slipped her arms around his neck, and he hugged her tightly. She never wanted him to let go.

“Your father and brother weren’t good kings.” His voice thickened. “But you are a great queen. You’re the chosen one, Peach. You’ll lead your army to victory. I believe in you..” Stepping back, he squeezed her shoulder once more and offered a smile to fool her into thinking everything was going to be okay. At least it worked. “Come.” He kissed her forehead. “It’ll be a long trip back to the castle.”

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It was official. There was going to be a war.

Two days after Y/N and Harry had come home, the news had travelled to all high and low courts that The High Queen of Theros had declared war against Isolde to avenge the deaths of her husband and her consultant. Y/N had faith in her well-trained army as well as Lance’s for they had all expected this outcome. Her father had been well-prepared for this. Nevertheless, this wasn’t at all what Y/N wanted.

The night before the battle, it snowed thickly outside. The castle was too quiet. It was as if the universe was holding its breath for the bloodbath tomorrow.

Y/N rose from the soaking tub. Jo helped her slip on a thick robe, and she padded on her bare feet across the fire-warmed stone to the lone mirror. Using her palm to wipe away a bit of steam, she tilted my cheek and observed the faintly red and bruised skin along her chest and the corner of her mouth. She’d got them from the fall off the cliff; they were barely noticeable now. Sometimes she missed that feeling of free-falling to her possible death. If it hadn’t been for the people she’d leave behind, she would have chosen the easy way out.

Was it easy, though?

Death.

It sounded easy if the choice was given to you. However, her death would only prove Calanthe right. That she was destined to receive the same fate as the men in her bloodline. And she didn’t want to be associated with their crimes and weaknesses. If she were to die, she’d die brave and honoured, holding her sword.

Blinking, she caught Jo’s dreadful eyes looking back at her in the mirror. “I’m scared, Y/N,” Jo muttered as she twisted the towel she was holding.

Y/N turned around. “Don’t be scared. We’ll be fine.” She didn’t know that for sure, but she’d say anything to put her friend at ease. It didn’t work, though.

“If they took the castle, what would happen to me?” Jo asked, her forehead creased. “I’d surely die. I cannot protect myself.”

“I won’t let them take the castle.” Y/N mustered an encouraging smile as she took Jo’s hand. “And you can protect yourself, Jo. I’ve shown you how to use a dagger—”

“Being shown the basics of how to use a blade and using it on another living person are two different things.” Jo pulled her hand back. “I would’ve stood there and screamed.”

“You would’ve defended yourself,” Y/N said, this, she genuinely believed. “I’ve seen how vicious you get when Harry ate your last piece of pie.”

The skin around Jo’s eyes crinkled as she giggled. “I would duel him to the death for that delicious cake.”

A short laugh burst from Y/N. “Just imagine all the attackers as Harry trying to steal your last piece of pie and you’ll be good.”

They laughed about it together and pretended that it was just a joke. In reality, Y/N knew Jo had a good reason to be scared, as was she. She’d failed to save Jo once. How could she be sure she could succeed this time? There was no witch to help her. She’d have to do this on her own.

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Sweat dampened Harry’s skin as he dipped down and kicked out. Caught off guard, Lance staggered to the side and froze before he could start striking back. His gaze dropped to where Harry held the dagger to his throat. The corners of his lips lowered.

Harry smirked. “I win.”

“It’s not about winning.” Lance scoffed, rolling his eyes. “It’s about surviving.”

“Isn’t that winning, though?” Harry lowered the dagger and stepped back.

Lance shot him a glare and sheathed the dagger at his hip. “The battle tomorrow isn’t a game.”

“I know that.” Harry put away his blade. “But I still won.”

“Boys, can you stop being boys for a moment?”

They both whipped around to find Y/N standing on the steps in her white fur coat, staring out at the yard.

“She’s talking to you,” Harry and Lance said to each other at the same time

Y/N marched up to them. Her face scrunched up like an angry teacher as she regarded them both. “You two are aware that we’re heading to battle at dawn, right?”

Lance’s eyes widened as he aggressively pointed his hand at Harry. “I’ve been trying to tell him!”

Y/N crossed her arms, raising an eyebrow at Harry, who put on a grin. “I’ll be in serious fighting mode at dawn.”

She rolled her eyes. Her lips arched faintly. Harry knew that she knew he was just trying to keep everyone calm and in good spirits. Deep down, he was a bundle of nerves. He hadn’t been sleeping since they’d returned from the border. Whenever he closed his eyes, he’d see death. He wasn’t afraid of dying. But if he died, he couldn’t protect her. There would still be Lance, but he couldn’t count on anyone else but him and herself to keep her safe at this point.

The three of them headed back inside. Y/N stopped Lance when he was about to retreat to his chambers. “Come to the throne room and drink with me,” she said. “Both of you.”

“I don’t think it’s a good idea to get drunk before a battle,” Lance said.

Harry and Y/N exchanged the same kind of look. To Lance, Harry said, “We’re not drinking to get drunk. Besides, this might be the only chance we get to drink together.”

Lance flicked his gaze between Harry and Y/N before throwing his head back and exhaling sharply. “You two are unbelievable.”

Y/N laughed as she slipped her arm around Lance’s and tugged him along. Strangely, Harry felt fine with it. Maybe knowing this could be the last night of his life had made him more sensible. He would think about what she’d said on the night she’d asked him to marry her. About how she loved Lance even though it wasn’t the same way she loved Harry. He would look out for Kenny, too, even though Kenny and Stefan were married and had a baby together. While Lance’s feelings were not reciprocated, Harry knew he’d still jump in front of an arrow for Y/N.

“Here’s to us staying alive,” Y/N said, raising her cup. “Long live the Queen.”

Lance chuckled as he lifted his. “Long live the King.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Long live Harry.” And chugged the wine from his cup.

Y/N sat on her throat while Harry and Lance sat on the step on either side of her. She stared thoughtfully into her cup as she took a deep breath. “I want you to promise me one thing.”

“No.”

“You don’t even know what I’m proposing, Lance.”

“Well, I have a feeling that I won’t like it,” Lance said and poured himself some more wine. Harry gestured for Y/N to continue anyway.

“If you see me having trouble on the battlefield,” she said, “just know I can get myself out of it. I want you to mind your own business, watch your own back unless I scream for help. Do not try to help me and get yourself killed.”

Lance shook his head. “Y/N, you know I can’t promise you that.”

“You must.”

“You’re not giving me orders. We’re equals.”

Y/N let out a soft breath. “I’m not giving you orders, Lance. I’m asking you.”

Harry could see Lance softened at once. The King averted his eyes and stared down at his cup. “I promise,” he replied weakly.

It was enough for Y/N. She turned to Harry. Forcefully, he nodded and gave her his word.

[josefavomjaaga]

Eugène and his Bavarian family

This is the second part of the answer to the question by @mademoisellewhistler​ about Eugène's friends, this time dealing with Eugène's relatives by marriage, the royal family of Bavaria. Thank you once more for the Ask.

(Max Joseph, his second wife Karoline and their five daughters, painting from 1821)

***

Let's start with his spouse, Auguste. In short, she adored him. After having yielded in tears to the raison d'état and sacrificed herself for the fatherland (her own words) at Christmas 1805, she apparently realised rather quickly that she had not made a bad bargain when she gave up her cousin Charles. At the end of May 1806, Eugène for the first time had to leave her for a few days, and she whined about it in letters to anyone who would listen, Napoleon included. (Napoleon must have been quite puzzled by this; things had been very different in his own marriage).

After all, who could have guessed that this totally unacceptable bridegroom would turn out to be such a nice guy?

Napoleon was otherwise not very successful as a marriage broker, but this marriage, which he had coerced, actually turned out to be very happy, and my impression is that he was immensely proud of it. However, he was to suffer as a result of this success, because Auguste soon felt that her Eugène was getting the short end of the stick compared to Napoleon's brothers and brothers-in-law. Napoleon charged him with most of the work, but the royal crowns and honours went to other people. From the time of his divorce from Josephine at the latest, she was not at all well disposed towards Napoleon. But that is another story. Even the loss of his position could not change her affection for Eugène. On the contrary, we have some of the most touching letters between them from this period.

Next, Eugène’s father-in-law, King Max Joseph of Bavaria. In short, he adored him. If Auguste hadn't married Eugène, Max would probably have done it himself, just to keep this guy in the family. This was exactly the son he had always wanted, handsome, polite, cheerful, well-mannered, brave soldier and, above all, French! (And what had fate given him instead? Crown Prince Ludwig.) Eugène and Max Joseph were, in Auguste's opinion, very much alike in many ways; no wonder they got on well together. Max took a lively interest in all things concerning Eugène and Auguste; when Auguste finally gave birth to their long-awaited son in 1810, he wrote from Munich that he had not been able to sleep all night because of his excitement and happiness at the news. Normally I would consider this a rhetorical phrase; in Max's case it is probably to be understood literally.

The relationship between Eugène and Max Joseph seems, as far as can be deduced from the letters, to have been more family-like than that between Eugène and Napoleon. Towards Napoleon, Eugène always maintains a very submissive, respectful tone; Napoleon is always "Sire" and "Votre Majesté". But he addresses Max as "Mon bon père", my good father, and in his letters to Auguste he likes to speak of "notre père", our father, referring to Max.

I have already written about the negotiations that took place between the two of them in 1813/4, even though they belonged to opposing camps.

They also quarrelled - once, over Tyrol. Max Joseph did not agree at all with a proclamation that Eugène had published, and wrote to him about it. Whereupon Eugène wrote to his wife almost in despair, oh crap, crap, crap! Now I've quarrelled with your father over this thing, I hate this Tyrol!

(The disgruntlement did not last long.)

Eugène's early death hit Max Joseph hard. According to Planat de la Faye, he never afterwards referred to his son-in-law as anything other than "mon pauvre Eugène", my poor Eugène.

Crown Prince Ludwig. In short, he hated him. Or possibly not. Unless he did. In any case, he hated everything French and in particular everything connected with Napoleon, which at least at times certainly included his French brother-in-law. He got so upset about his sister's forced marriage to the unworthy Beauharnais that he wrote a play about the matter over the next few years (a tragedy, some of it being unintentionally funny if you know the actual story).

Of course, the guy, on the other hand, was very very nice. But that didn't change the fact that he was French. "Of all the Frenchmen, Eugène is probably still the best," Ludwig is supposed to have said. This was probably the greatest compliment Eugène could expect from his brother-in-law.

In part, Ludwig's dislike may have been jealousy. Ludwig and Max Joseph did not get on at all; Ludwig probably feared that Eugène would replace him with Max. Napoleon did not make matters any better when he occasionally pointed out that crown princes could also be shot for disobedience and that, after all, Eugène's children were also grandchildren of the Bavarian king.

On top of that, Max Joseph and Auguste had the idea that good-natured Eugène should speak to Ludwig's conscience from time to time about Ludwig’s attitude towards the French Emperor, his frequenting of dubious taverns and the good behaviour of crown princes in general. Eugène did it, as he did almost everything he was told, but it did not go down well at all with Ludwig.

When Eugène finally ended up in Bavaria after the fall of the Empire, the rivalry escalated to the point where Louis wanted to duel him (he was quick with duel demands - he knew full well that someone would always stop it). He prevented Eugène's children from becoming part of the royal family, and it almost came to the point that Eugène and his family would have left Bavaria again. In the end, Auguste wrote a bitterly blunt letter to her brother, and they came to an arrangement.

And, as I said, Eugène was a terribly nice guy. Besides, he had bought a small castle outside Munich, in Ismaning, at just the right distance from town to ride out there in the morning and then have breakfast with sister, brother-in-law and nieces and nephews ... which Ludwig, when he was in Munich, did regularly. Apparently his aversion to all things French did not extend to breakfast.

Queen Karoline of Bavaria, second wife to Max Joseph and stepmother to Auguste. Which I guess makes her Eugène’s stepmother-in-law? In short: Undecided. In theory, she couldn't stand Eugène. In theory, she never forgave him for stealing her little brother's bride. In theory, she was forbidden to like the guy if only because he was Napoleon's stepson and she didn't like Napoleon, being sister to the tsarina. But in practice it was always so hard to keep up that dislike once you met him, with him being so damn charming.

When Eugène came to Bavaria, relations were quite strained, especially between Auguste and Karoline. On the other hand, Eugène simply became part of the family. There are touching letters from Karoline about Eugène's death, in which she describes in detail to her mother how he was no longer able to speak at the end and took her hand and put it on his heart to say goodbye ... when reading this, one has the feeling that she was truely very touched and that she really had to get something off her chest.

By the way, there was a second source of conflict between Eugène and Karoline: Karoline's sister, Friederike, was the wife of ousted King Gustav of Sweden. And Eugène married his daughter to the son of the "usurper" Bernadotte. Karoline was not happy about this.

Auguste’s younger brother, Karl Theodor, called »Charles« in the family. He was still a child when Auguste left for Italy but seems to have liked Eugène from the beginning. In spring 1813, when Eugène was at the head of what was left of the Grande Armée, Karl Theodor wrote him an urgent letter and begged that Eugène would call him to the army as his ADC. Eugène, having his hands full with generals who turned blind and deaf with shock when orders came in, and soldiers who broke down in fear at the word "cossack", wrote back politely but firmly that now was a very bad time. Maybe later, when war resembled war again.

During his time in Bavaria, Karl Theodor was one of Eugène's friends in Munich, but he was only the second son, with future King Ludwig calling the shots. Eugène made him executor of his will.

How Auguste's younger sister Charlotte, the family's ugly duckling, viewed Eugène, I don't know, but she seems to have been more on Ludwig's side. Auguste's younger half-sisters, born of Max Joseph's marriage to Karoline, were close in age to Eugène's children, with whom they often played together. It is said of Ludwig's eldest son, the future King Maximilian II, that he always retained very positive memories of his French uncle, especially because Eugène was the exact opposite of the authoritarian, stubborn and stingy Ludwig.

And then there is somebody who was not officially part of the family, but factually: Auguste's old governess, Madame de Wurmb, called "Machère", whom Eugène had, so to speak, co-wed. "Machère" had substituted for Auguste's mother, deceased at an early age, and meant a great deal to her. Throughout her life, she kept a strict regime over her former pupil and, since she accompanied Auguste to Italy as a lady-in-waiting, also over Auguste's husband. Planat de la Faye, who met her in 1822, gives a rather amusing description of her. She had still been brought up in "Ancien Régime" Paris and lived entirely according to its principles (or what she regarded as its principles). When, after the end of the Empire, Eugène and Auguste travelled to Baden with very little luggage and entourage for financial reasons, and Eugène helped his wife into the carriage himself for want of a servant, the world came to an end for Madame de Wurmb ...

"Machère" probably never really forgave Eugène for daring, as a mere Beauharnais, to marry "her" princess. But she had to acknowledge that he made Auguste very happy, and that most of the time he really did behave as if he were a real prince (or what Machère regarded as one).

Eugène's biographer Adalbert of Bavaria suggests that Napoleon advised Eugène upon his marriage to first take the old governess to Italy and then throw her out as soon as possible. Which, of course, good-natured Eugène never did. There is a very funny anecdote about the first meeting between "Machère" and Napoleon, which Napoleon himself reported and which I will reproduce here soon anyway. In his letters to Auguste, Napoleon sent greetings to the lady every now and then - or maybe that was his way of finding out if the old dragon was still there and if it was already safe to visit Italy...

[secondhand-trash]

Servant and the Red Chicken

A/N: Haven’t writen a full length fic since Christmas and this happened after I saw this post and I was like “Hawks??? Is that you???”. Love me a fairy tale au so here you go with this kinda half crack half serious thing I came up with.

Pairing: cursed prince!Takami Keigo x reader

Description: Rumours of the prince who suddenly disappeared casted a shadow across the palace. But that was none of your business, you were just a servant trying to make a living. Rather than the royal gossip, you would much get answers to why there was a loud chicken following you around the palace grounds.

Word count: 4150

Playlist:

Beautiful Loser//Bob Seger

Cape Cod Kwassa Kwassa//Vampire Weekend

Flowers In Your Hair//The Lumineers

-

Life in the palace was not easy. You got up before the sun barely showed its face every day and spent the coming hours with your hands soaked in cold water filled with substances that were probably not safe for the human body. If you were lucky, you might be able to get some scraps from the kitchen on top of the hard slice of bread that was both your life line and your salary but that was under the condition that no one was there to catch you sneaking in. If you slipped and got caught, well good luck to you I supposed, have fun being hit by a wooden stick. The bed you returned to after a day of hard work was more like a hard board. It was fine in summer but when the winter frost hit, it was like sleeping on plain ice. There were more rules in the palace than you could remember, some you never even heard of until you got yelled at for making a mistake. Getting yelled at was the least painful punishment as you were told by other servants in your quarter, chances were you might lose your head if you crossed the paths of the wrong person.

Basically, being a peasant in the royal court was tough but hey, at least you had a job that lets you shove something down your stomach every day and even have extra coins to send back to your family. Behind the tall walls and expensive velvet were many rumours and mysteries but you had learnt to never ask questions, satisfying your curiosity was not worth risking your life.

The royal family of the kingdom was the favorite topic of gossips among servants and others who happened to go in and out of the palace gates. There was a great risk in talking about the power above, but that was the charm of it you guessed. People would always be attracted to danger, it was only human nature. The hot topic when you just step foot into the palace was the mystery of the missing prince who disappeared over night. Still being new and learning the ropes, you didn’t say anything when the other servants chattered while sitting in a circle and rinsing the linens. From what you had heard, the prince had opposed his father in marrying the new queen, his stepmother which led to a lot of arguments and tension in the royal family when it happened. The wedding went on as scheduled against the prince’s protest, which you knew because that was what the entire kingdom was talking about in that one month of non-stop celebration. It was only a coincident that the king’s only son went missing right after the night of the wedding with no trace to be found. The royal guards were still searching for his whereabouts but there was no progress.

Rumours were that it had something to do with the queen. Those of power often overlooked the measly servants they shoved to the side but it was always those who were unnoticeable that knew the most. Someone said that they found what might be tools for witchcraft in the queen’s chamber which stirred the theory that the prince was cursed by the queen for a hot second. But rumours went as rumours did, the people quickly stopped talking and focused on something else the moment anything more recent and exciting surfaced. The missing prince was quickly glossed over by the newest gossip that the count’s daughter were making plans to run away with her handmaiden.

In retrospect, you didn’t really care much about these quick whispers. It was not like the royals would have anything to do with you, a servant, anyways. They were just something harmless bored workers talked about to make thier hard life more exciting and that was what it was to you. Even if you were curious to know more, you knew better than to ask questions. There were more practical things to wonder about other than who was bedding who and how the ladies in waiting tried to impress the queen.

For example, why the hell was there a red chicken running around the royal courts and why did it like to follow you around so much?

The first time you ever saw the red chicken was when the head of the servants’ quarter, Mrs Carter, was taking you around the place. She was a chubby lady in her late 40s, stern at first look but you would soon realise that she was way softer inside than she let it out to be. Making your way to the kitchen, she explained each station and everyone you needed to know as she walked in front of you in such a speed that you had to sprint to keep up.

“This is Marinette, the one who makes all the butter around here. That’s the cutting station, we start preparing ingredients for dinner at 4 each day and you might be asked to help in the kitchen when needed. Please go speak to... Where is Paul? Oh there he is. Paul at noon each day to see if you are needed...” 

Desperately trying to memorise each detail and all of the new faces, you felt like your head was about to explode. Being in a whole new environment was terrifying, let alone the palace where the kitchen was already bigger than the town square from where you were from. 

You were so close to seeing white when Mrs Carter suddenly screamed. Jumping from her high pitched screech, you could barely react when the entire kitchen went into a state of chaos.

“It’s the chicken! The damn chicken is here again!”

Everyone dropped what they were doing and grabbed whatever they could get at their hand. It was madness as people ran around, pots falling to the ground and everything went flying. That was when you saw a red blur sprinted across you, nearly knocking you off. The blur was fast, jumping onto counters and passing the dozens of people who were trying to catch it with whatever they could find. The pastry chef swung the rolling pin but missed and hit the milk maid instead, someone tried to trap it with a pot but tripped over. There were shouts and screams everywhere but as you stood there, completely dumbfounded, you caught a glimpse at the kitchen window to see a red chicken with a piece of bread at its beak. How did it got there in such a short amount of time? You blinked as the bird flapped its wings and hopped off of the window frame, leaving the absolute wreck it created behind.

“Where did it go? Urgh! We let it run away again!” Mrs Carter yelled, her face was an angry shade of red as she looked around the mess. “The goddamn... Never mind! What time it is? Christ! We are late! Quick, follow me. Now don’t just stand there, catch up!”

You snapped out of your haze and ran across the room to go into the next doorway, still thinking about that sly chicken if it even had the ability to be sly.

For some reason, that little accident in the kitchen might just made the nerve in your chest disappear.

As you slowly eased into the busy courts and your role as a servant, your confusion as to why there was a red chicken running around only grew. It seemed to be anywhere chickens should probably had no way getting into. The laundry room, the servants’ quarter, the Royal Guard’s training field... Anywhere with people it could bother, it would be there at the most random times and it was sure to cause chaos. After some mindless observation, you had come to realise that the red chicken took a liking to messing with anything that had to do with the king and the queen. It was like it knew the structure of the palace at the back of its tiny, feathery head. Whenever the queen would stroll around the royal gardens with her ladies in waiting, the chicken would show up to run across everything. Whenever screeches and yelps passed over to where you were, you knew that the chicken was at it again. It was also loud, very loud in fact and the noises it made were rather chirpy for the being it was. 

Oh, and also, you felt like the chicken recognized you now. After that chaos in the kitchen on your first day, the red chicken would always be there whenever you were alone. You were wary at first, worried that it might cause trouble for you and in turns got you some ruthless beating, but it was oddly calm every time that you had come to accept that being followed by a red chicken was simply part of your life now. Every time you were on your way to another manor or in the woods for errands, you bet the chicken would show up and walk with you. You could not believe that you were saying this but the chicken was actually a nice company if it wanted to be. If you said anything. it would flap its wings and chirp in response. You were certain that the stress had gotten to you but you were convinced that it might understand what you were saying. When you had time in your hands, you would bent down and stretch the chicken’s head to which it would coo so you assumed that it liked pets. 

Now that you thought about it, wasn’t it a bit strange that the chicken was nicer to you than it did everyone else? Well, the chicken was your friend now and it was not like you were complaining. We did not ask questions around the palace and if a red chicken wanted to be your friend, might as well accept it and bring it breadcrumbs as a token of thanks.

But a chicken runnigng around causing chaos was not something of your concern right now as you carried a huge pile of linens in hand, the fabric so tall that you could barely see in front of you. Trying to make out where you were going, your eyes lowered to look at the ground to make sure that you were still walking on the path and there was nothing tripping you over. With the heavy weight at your hands, the only thing on your mind was to get to the laundry room quickly and dropped it off there. Barely able to walk in a straight line, you silently cursed at how the road to your destination seemed to be so much longer than usual.

Another thing worth nothing about the palace was that it was ridiculously huge with many pathways zigzagging everywhere. Make one wrong turn, then you might found yourself walking around in an endless circle towards every direction but the one you were supposed to be heading. If you had remembered this, you would have taken a pause in the middle of the unusually long road and look at your surroundings. If you had done that, you would notice that you were nowhere near the laundry room and in fact, you were starting to head into the woods. But with the ache in your arms, that was simply not something your running mind thought off.

“Bok!

Suddenly, you looked over the pile of linens to see a pair of red wings hopping out of the bush. As the chicken wobbled its way across to you, it tilted its head as if you ask you where you were going. 

You sighed. “Not now! My arms are so close to giving up and I need to get to the laundry room.”

“Buck!” The chicken flapped its wings and pecked at your shoe, standing in the middle of the road behind your back.

Struggling to even turn around, you groaned. “I promise I’ll come back later when I have time, ok? But I have to leave now!”

“Kahcaw!” The chicken pulled at the bottom of your apron when it saw that you had no intention to turn around. 

“What is it?” You yelped. It seemed like it wouldn’t let you go anytime sooner. “Are you hungry?”

“Kah!”

“No? Then do you want pets?”

“Kah! Kah!”

“I’m so confused! What do you want?” You exclaimed. The chicken seemed to be panicking, if that was something it was capable of doing, and flapped its wings while running in a circle. Looking at it, you finally glanced at where you were and realised that you were very lost. 

Was it trying to help you?

“Are you trying to tell me where to go?”

“Bok!” The chicken seemed to be delighted that you finally understood what it wanted and started walking down the path. Were you really going to follow a chicken? You thought to yourself, but it was not like you had much of an option anyways. Gritting your teeth to find the last bit of strength in you, you walked behind the chicken towards a direction you had never been on. It was nice enough to stop and wait for you to catch up every once in a while. It was only a matter of time before you saw the laundry house from down the road.

You were made sure to bring extra bread with you so you could have something to thank the chicken for helping you out but it only left you with more questions clouding your head as to why it knew its way around the grounds so well.

The court was a dangerous place to be in, if it wasn’t already established by how you nearly got lost in the woods and needed a red chicken to come save the day. It wasn’t just the dark roads and the many rules that made each step you took require extra attention to it, the people rushing in and out every day might just be a lingering threat as well. You could never be too careful, as people said. Sometimes, one quick moment you let your guard down was enough for a life-long mistake to be made.

As you rushed back to the sleeping quarters with nothing but a dim oil lamp in your hand, you cursed at how you were foolish enough to go out without bringing a shawl with you. The palace could be awfully scary at night which was something that everyone knew of, the fact that you were ordered to deliver something to the carpenter who lived in the middle of the woods when there was no way you could make it back before dawn was yet another reason why you were certain that the temporarily person-in-charge had something against you. Mrs Carter was away in town to handle some errands for the house keeper and the moment you saw the lean man walked into the kitchen, you knew that he would be trouble for you. What exactly had you done to make him hate you so much? You seriously had no clue but it was not like a proper reason was needed for anyone to make your life miserable anyways.

You shivered when the wind hit you in the face. You did not want to be here, you did not want to be here at all. You missed Mrs Carter, at least she had always been kind enough to make sure that everyone would get back to the quarters safely.

Something about the pitch black road made you felt unease even though you were certain that you were on the right track. Perhaps it was your own paranoia but you had a faint sense of danger lurking at the back of your head.

Was someone following you? 

Your pace quickened at the thought and you held the oil lamp higher to your face as if it was any help. The shadows from the trees seemed to become taller and the end of the road was nowhere to be seen. Every time the wind blew across the leaves, the rattling it left only made you skin crawl. You forced yourself to think of something pleasant, something that would kept your lingering thoughts at bay. Think of the bed, think of the other people greeting you once you arrived at the door, think of the fire crackling in the kitchen, think of the red chicken that might show up next morning during breakfast, think of-

“Don’t move or I’ll slit your throat!”

The oil lamp dropped as you were suddenly yanked back, a hand covering your mouth and something cold pressing against your neck. It was like your pulse paused right then and there, you could not find the strength to scream if you dared. 

“Hand over everything you have with you!” It was a voice you had never heard of, one that was rough and domineering enough to convince you that whoever it was holding the blade across your neck, they would not hesitate to end you if it comes down to it. 

Your blood curled when you remembered that you had nothing valuable with you. Was that what it had come to? Everything you had worked so hard for only to have you dying alone in the woods with no one to discover your body until the next time someone crossed the path far away from the main buildings. It was late and no one would be here to help you. 

Dear god if you are listening, you prayed as you shut your eyes tight to prepare for the inevitable pain, please sent someone, something, anything...

“Babok!”

You could not believe your eyes when you saw a large object hitting the burglar. The man pushed you to the ground with the sudden attack and when you finally gathered your breath, still not yet calmed down from the scare you just experienced, you nearly tear up at the sight of the big red bird that was aggressively flapping its wings at the burglar.

The burglar waved his knife in the air as the chicken jumped to chase him away. The man let out a loud yelp when the chicken succeed in biting his nose and swung the bird to the ground before scurrying away with a bleeding nose.

Your breath paused when you saw that the chicken was not moving and you used all your might to get the oil lamp that was rolled to the side before crawling to where the chicken was. Taking a closer look, you gasped when you lifted the lamp so see its feathers being tainted by a much darker shade of red than its own feathers. There was a huge cut at its chest, and you winced at how you could see the flesh underneath the cut through feathers.

“Oh no.. Oh no no no...” Quickly putting the lamp down, you tear off a corner of your apron to press onto the wound, “Please don’t die on me, please...”

The chicken’s chest raised slowly as it let out a weak “Bok”. Trying to hold it without touching its wound, you placed the chicken onto your lap as you caressed its head. Even with its final breaths, it still tried to rub onto your fingers as if to tell you not to worry but the sight only made your heart wrench.

It had risked itself to save you and now it was dying in your arms. Your nose ached at the sight when you sniffled. “I’ll get you somewhere, we can find something to patch you up! So please just stay with me, stay with me...”

The sobbing was no longer contained when you felt its head went limp in your hand. In the middle of the woods, all that could be heard was the sound of wind howling and your cries echoing through the trees. There would be no one waiting for you when you carry linens to the laundry house anymore, your stomach twisted together when you thought of how the red chicken would no longer show up to wreck havok and made you laugh anymore.

Amidst your tears, you did not feel the shifting at your lap, passing it off as the wind. It was only when you felt something that resembled a human finger wiping away your tears that you blinked and opened your eyes at the sudden touch. The red chicken that was placed on your lap was there no more. Instead, you saw a head of golden hair and the face of a handsome young man staring back at you. You were too shocked to say anything as the man continued to caress your teary cheeks with his thumb.

“What?” You managed to choke out in between your heavy breaths. Were you dreaming? But the warmth from the hand and the weight at your lap felt way too real for it to be a fragment of your own imagination.

“Don’t cry for me,” the man smiled when he saw that your crying had stopped, “it would pain me to think that such a lovely face is filled with sorrow because of me.”

Taking another look at the man, the blonde curls and the golden eyes along with the handsome feature looked way too familiar. It only hit you that this was the same face you had seen in the royal portraits when you cleaned that corridors every morning when you saw the badge symbolisng his status pinned in front of his battered up shirt.

“You’re the missing prince...” Your eyes widened in shock at the realisation, “but you were also the red chicken...”

“Hello, darling.” The prince chuckled but winced when he moved the cut at his chest and you instantly pressed the fabric to it once again to stop the bleeding. 

“Come on, let’s get you back to the castle.” You said as you put an arm at his back to help him up.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Yes?” You said, your voice laced with concern. How strange that you didn’t care so much that you were talking to the crowned prince of the kingdom, all that was on your mind was the red chicken who had helped you time after time.

“Would you still rub my head when after I turn back?”

“...you’re bleeding.”

“I know.” The chicken, or should you call him the prince now, hissed through his teeth as he pouted, “But would you?”

You sighed, something never change and in all honesty, you were very glad that he didn’t seem to act much differently than he did when he was still had wings. “Of course.”

Your heart fluttered when the prince beamed.

You were not surprised at all when you walked into the kitchen the next day to hear people rambling on about how the prince had returned and the dramatic ending to the case of his disappearance. Turned out, the queen hired someone to curse Prince Keigo and transforming him into a chicken, the only way to turn him back was tears of genuine love for the prince. When you heard the maids talking about who could possibly the one to break the curse for the prince, your heart leaped out of your chest to which you brushed it off as nothing when they asked. No one needed to know about your little encounter in the woods with the red chicken the previous night. 

Everything escalated from there. After a lot of investigation, the queen’s crimes were confirmed when the Guards caught the warlock who performed the curse for her and she was to be executed. 

You were glad that the prince made it back safely, but a part of you missed your feathery friend. You nearly cried tears of joy when the prince, who insisted that you called him Keigo instead of all the formalities, waited for you at the pathway like he used to when he was still the red chicken. Pulling him into a tight hug, it was only later when he pressed a chaste kiss to your hand like the pecks he would give you with a grin that you remembered he was no longer a farm animal but a young man your age. The mad blush that spread across your face only seemed to make him do it more often than before.

So with the prince’s return, the rumour was settled and everything returned to normal. But rumours went as rumours did, and there would never be a day when the palace grounds could go without any new gossip being passed around by everyone. The most recent gossip by the way, in case you were curious to know, was that the prince’s newly betrothed spouse, who the prince was madly in love with, used to be the young servant who carried linens to the palace’s laundry house.

[laura-elizabeth91]

FROM 2019

Matt Chorley: behind the scenes at 10 Downing Street

Times political expert Matt Chorley speaks with former prime ministers, senior civil servants and spin doctors to find out what the new inhabitant of No 10 can expect in his first 48 hours in office (whoever he may be)

Not many people get to do it. In the past half-century, more people have walked on the Moon than across the threshold of No 10 as a new prime minister.

When the new prime minister stands on those famous steps next Wednesday afternoon he will find it a daunting prospect. They always do. Sir John Major felt it had come too soon. When he was confirmed as the new PM in 1990, his wife, Norma, turned to a friend and asked, “Is it going to be all right?”

Britain’s political system does not allow for a slow and careful transition between administrations, as in America. Some, like Gordon Brown, have years to prepare. Others, like Theresa May, a matter of days. This time, the new prime minister will be named on Tuesday and he will take office the next day, stepping on to a nonstop treadmill charging at 100mph.

“You’re never ready,” says Tony Blair. “The one thing you realise the moment you come into government is that campaigning to be the government is completely different from governing as the government.” Was he frightened? “Yeah, I was … ‘Frightened’ is perhaps not the right word, but I was somewhat overawed, yeah.”

Recalling that night in May 1997 as he willed the Tories to win more seats, fearing a New Labour landslide might spark some kind of constitutional crisis, he adds, “I think I was one of the very few sober people around that night and I was very sober and very, very conscious of the responsibility.”

For David Cameron, there was the psychodrama of five days of coalition talks, before it became clear that he would indeed be PM. Sitting in the leader of the opposition’s office in the Houses of Parliament, he called his wife: “Sam, love, you’d better get your frock ready. We’re going to see the Queen.”

And that is the first thing that happens even before you get to Downing Street: a trip to Buckingham Palace.

The Queen After PMQs on Wednesday, May will formally resign as PM, recommending to the Queen whom to summon as her successor. May will arrive at the palace in her prime ministerial limousine, but be driven away in a private car. The trappings of power fall away quickly.

The audience with the Queen can be a daunting moment, not least because she will remind the new PM that he is the 14th of her reign. Winston Churchill was her first.

Blair was waiting in a Buckingham Palace anteroom for his first audience with the Queen when an official approached to explain, “You don’t actually kiss the Queen’s hands in the ceremony of kissing hands. You brush them gently with your lips,” as he recalls in his memoir. This left the PM-in-waiting baffled, wondering if this meant brushing like a pair of shoes or the very lightest of touches.

Before he had time to work it out, he was ushered in, tripping on a piece of carpet and almost falling directly upon the Queen’s hands – “not so much brushing them as enveloping them”.

Margaret Thatcher insisted her audiences with the Queen were “quietly businesslike”, although she said stories about tensions between the two women were simply “too good not to make up”.

Cameron had a habit of blurting out details of his conversations with the Queen – famously that she “purred” down the phone to him after Scotland voted no to independence.

The speech From the palace it is a short mile and a half car journey down the Mall and Whitehall to Downing Street to address the nation. This speech matters.

“The new PM must first write notes only to be opened in the event of an apocalypse

It has grown in significance. For Thatcher quoting St Francis of Assisi (“Where there is discord, may we bring harmony”), it was a few snatched words to a huddle of cameras. These days it is a big lectern moment. As with May’s “burning injustices”, those first words on the steps of No 10 can set the tone for a premiership, and come back to haunt you.

With the world’s media gathered opposite No 10 and news helicopters hovering overhead, the narrow street creates a cauldron of noise.

It was easier for Blair – Labour apparatchiks had packed the street with Union Jack-waving party supporters. A decade later Brown took no chances. On the morning he became prime minister he went into a room in the Treasury with his gatekeeper Sue Nye and spin doctor Damian McBride to practise delivering his speech without notes – “I will try my utmost” – while his two aides played the role of protesters.

“Boo!” shouted Nye. “You’re a bad man!”

McBride got more into it: “Why did you sell the gold, Gordon? You ruined my pension! You’ve got blood on your hands!” At this last insult Brown stopped mid-speech and demanded to know, “Why is there blood on my hands?”

Some are more memorable than others – Cameron declaring, “This is going to be hard and difficult work,” had the hallmarks of a speech written in haste. It was also delivered in the dark, thanks to the Dark Lord of spin, Peter Mandelson. He advised Brown to leave in the early evening, still in daylight, knowing that by the time Cameron reached Downing Street the gloom would have descended.

The door Having delivered the speech in a blaze of flashbulbs, the new prime minister will turn and walk towards perhaps the most famous door in the world. This is the moment he will have fantasised about.

Waiting behind the door will be Sir Mark Sedwill, the cabinet secretary, at least for now. There has been speculation he could face the chop, although the new PM might soon realise they have bigger things to worry about.

The cabinet secretary, the most senior civil servant in the country, welcomes the new prime minister and their spouse (if they have one) before the couple walk towards the cabinet room, down the corridor lined with Downing Street staff who just an hour earlier will have waved off Team May. Lord O’Donnell, former cabinet secretary under Blair, Brown and Cameron, says, “You’ve got a very frenetic hour when you’re rearranging the furniture. You’re trying to work out precisely what our new prime minister might want. It’s horrible. It’s … barbaric, actually, is the word I would use.”

The changeover is brutal in its speed and efficiency. On the night in 2010 when Brown left Downing Street he was barely out the door when Jeremy Heywood, the No 10 permanent secretary, told staff to “snap out of it. We have a job to do.” And so they dried their eyes and prepared for Cameron’s arrival.

“It’s a bit mawkish really,” says Baroness Bertin, who entered No 10 as Cameron’s press secretary. “You can still, you know, smell them. They’ve only just left. The pizza boxes were still in the bin. We all trooped into Gordon Brown’s office and the table had scratch marks and indentation marks where we imagined mobile phones had been smashed into it.”

The civil servants will line up, clap and smile and make their new boss feel welcome. This tradition is born not out of servitude to new masters but a more practical purpose: in the pre-television age, it was a chance for Downing Street staff to see the new PM and their team up close so they could recognise them about the place.

“It’s very noisy,” recalls Katie Perrior, who entered No 10 in 2016 as May’s director of communications. “There’s lots of back-patting and people are realising, ‘We’re here now.’ ”

Anji Hunter, Blair’s adviser, says this moment illustrates the professionalism of the civil service. “They don’t display their political affiliations. That same group of people had been there an hour before we were there, weeping as Major left with Norma. They had clapped out John Major and they clapped us in, beaming, literally beaming and delightful.”

Blair arrived deeply suspicious of the civil service, believing they were beholden to the long-running outgoing Conservative administration. The same was true of Cameron when he moved in after 13 years of New Labour. “Actually, within almost hours that’s completely gone,” says O’Donnell.

While the clapping and smiling have been going on, the cabinet secretary has run round the back corridor to be waiting for the PM outside the cabinet room.

The cabinet room Stepping into the famous cabinet room can be an emotional moment. Blair said he pictured “a thousand images fluttering through my mind” of Disraeli and Gladstone and Asquith, Lloyd George and Churchill and every other great statesman who had held court and power in this room.

David Cameron, alongside wife Samantha, is ushered into the cabinet room for the first time by cabinet secretary Gus O’Donnell, May 11, 2010ANDREW PARSONS/I-IMAGES

A photographer captured the moment Cameron had his head in his hands as he entered the room, as the enormity of it all dawned on him. O’Donnell was to his left, while to his right was his wife, Samantha, pregnant with their daughter, Florence, who was allowed to enjoy the private moment of history before being whisked off.

By tradition all the chairs around the cabinet table are neatly pushed in; the prime minister’s seat is at an angle. It is also the only chair with arms.

The PM sits. Waiting on the vast coffin-shaped table is bottled water, still and sparkling, and a small dish of mints. It is going to be an intense first meeting. After all the euphoria, the applause and the smiles, it quickly gets serious. Really serious.

The letters One of the first jobs is to write letters to the UK’s Trident submarine commanders giving targeting instructions only to be opened in the event of a nuclear attack where communications with London have broken down.

“Cameron held an ‘Ibiza-style rave’ at Chequers for his wife’s birthday

The chief of the defence staff, General Sir Nicholas Carter, is likely to be on hand to offer advice. However, nobody knows what the PM puts in the letters, which are sealed and taken to the Clyde naval base in Scotland where the submarines are based, with whichever boat is at sea having its letter on board.

The PM must also name a dozen ministers and advisers who would be given a space in the underground nuclear bunker, alongside their families, in the event of Armageddon.

Joining them around the cabinet table might be the heads of the security services. There will be a fast update on the most pressing issues of national security: live counterterror operations, imminent threats and urgent decisions delayed by their predecessor.

“This isn’t exactly an easy first couple of meetings,” says O’Donnell.

“It’s incredibly scary,” agrees Lord Wood of Anfield, a foreign policy adviser to Brown. “It’s a particular kind of torture to make the first act of a prime minister, literally within 30 seconds, this extraordinarily dramatic act of handwritten notes only to be opened in the event of an apocalypse.”

That moment encapsulates the feeling of loneliness that so many prime ministers have spoken of. There is no one to share it with, nowhere to turn. The buck stops with you and you alone.

The team While things are calm but serious in the cabinet room, outside all hell could be breaking loose as the PM’s political team get to meet their new colleagues, tour their new office and try to grab the best desks.

In 2007, while Brown was at the palace his team had a 2pm appointment at the “link door”, a Star Trek-like glass capsule door that connects the cabinet office with the rear of No 10.

“You walk into the pod,” recalls Wood. “It shuts behind you and then hopefully opens in front of you. There was a line of women on the other side who were the PAs, the Garden Room girls and assistants. And we were kind of matched one a piece, a bit like Strictly.

“And the thing I remember is that they all looked very red-eyed. And I only realised three years later when I left, they were crying because they’d just said goodbye to the Blair team. Within half an hour they were hoovering the floor and then lining up waiting for their new team.”

Once through, the political team will rush through the corridors of No 10 to be there to greet the new PM as he walks through the door.

Some teams are better prepared than others. Jonathan Powell, Blair’s chief of staff, held talks with the civil service and even trained frontbenchers in how to be a minister. “I remember Tony not wanting to know anything about that,” Hunter recalls. “Superstitious is the word.”

Keen to make a first impression in 2016, Perrior made a speech to civil service press officers about the importance of loyalty. “Don’t screw me over and I’ve got your back.”

For aides and advisers, the first days will also mean detailed security checks, especially for those covering foreign affairs, defence and national security.

Wood says, “My understanding is that the inquiries have evolved from questions about sexual and other matters to questions about money. I think they care much more now about financial exposure than private life exposure.”

The incoming team will also be warned against using their personal email addresses for government business, and to be wary when travelling abroad, to assume that foreign governments are listening in.

Sue Nye gave Brown’s team some extra advice: always carry your paperwork in a folder (to avoid official documents being snapped by photographers waiting in Downing Street). And never run.

“I was with the prime minister quite a lot, travelling around the world,” says Wood. “If you’re caught on camera running, it looks like something’s gone wrong.”

The house It is a strange quirk of British politics that the entire country is run from three terraced houses knocked together to form the office, state rooms and home of the prime minister.

O’Donnell calls it a “Tardis”. Wood says it is like a “slightly run-down Georgian country hotel”. Bertin remembers “being so overwhelmed really by No 10, the actual presence, actually being in that building, the smell of it. It just was like a sensory overload.”

If changing jobs is hard enough, becoming prime minister also comes with one of life’s most stressful experiences: moving house. The flat over No 11 Downing Street is slightly bigger and has in recent years been taken by the prime minister. At the end of a long day they can head to one of the small lifts that takes them to the top floor. Although in time prime ministers often make a habit of taking the stairs, the only form of exercise they get during an office-bound day running the country.

“Brown struggled to relax at No 10. ‘He didn’t enjoy living above the shop’

New PMs routinely try to suggest they might like to stay in their own home, before security becomes too much. Security arrangements for children and wider family will also have to be agreed. O’Donnell jokes, “We all know from Bodyguard what that can lead to.”

For new prime ministers not used to the increased security, this can come as a shock. On his first day in office, Major went to walk from No 10 to the House of Commons for lunch, but was stopped by police who made it clear this would be impossible for as long as he was PM.

For PMs with young children, working below the flat could be a blessing, allowing them to slope off for an hour. The Cameron children would often be seen playing in their pyjamas as dignitaries visited.

Brown, by contrast, struggled to relax. Wood says, “He didn’t enjoy living above the shop.” Home remained in Scotland, while the Downing Street flat “felt a little bit like a place you were staying in for a long weekend with a few Sainsbury’s bags full of milk”.

Discussions will also have to be had about the position of the new PM’s wife or girlfriend, whether they plan to play a visible role, and whether their own job or interests present a potential political conflict that could derail a premiership in its infancy.

There will be questions of changing artworks, even redecorating, but they can come later.

The new PM has not just one new home, but two. There is also the grace-and-favour country retreat at Chequers, where they are likely to head to for their first weekend.

May used to enjoy using the pool. Thatcher was so concerned with the electricity bills she had the pool’s heating switched off. Blair added a tennis court and invited celebrity friends to stay. Cameron held an “Ibiza-style rave” for his wife’s birthday.

When Major became prime minister he inherited a Chequers reception from Thatcher, but had no guests. So he asked O’Donnell, the PM’s press secretary at the time, who to invite. He replied instantly, “Well, Bobby Charlton ...”

“We just reeled out these people that we’d all love to meet,” says O’Donnell. “We had Jenny Agutter and a whole bunch of cricketers.”

The reshuffle Before unwinding in the Buckinghamshire countryside, there is the small matter of putting together a government.

If the updates on the state of the nation’s security are sensitive, the details of the reshuffle require perhaps even higher levels of secrecy. A small office just off the cabinet room is used for reshuffles, which means the door can be locked so ministerial posts are not spotted by prying eyes. “You need to make sure that you can’t have someone going in moving the names around,” says O’Donnell.

In comes a whiteboard to write people’s names on with magnets. In 2010, as the coalition government was being put together, disaster struck. “For some reason the magnetic thing stopped and all the names dropped off,” Bertin recalls. “I’m sure some people got different jobs as a result.”

The number of ministerial jobs is limited by law to 90 MPs, and a total of 109 paid posts including 22 paid cabinet positions. Downing Street staff are tasked with finding out where key people are in preparation for them to be called in for a job – without letting on why.

Both May and Major were propelled into No 10 with such haste they had given little thought to their top team. Brown, by contrast, had been planning it for months, perhaps years, right down to every junior minister and aide. “As with all these things, it goes well until it doesn’t, and then like dominoes you’ve got to rebuild the whole thing,” recalls Wood.

Margaret Beckett was let go as foreign secretary, making way for David Miliband. “It went down like a ton of shit,” says one of Wood’s former colleagues. “She has never forgiven Gordon.”

“Of the many gifts she received, May chose to keep only hosiery from a firm called Luxury Legs

In addition to the rather quaint idea of choosing the right person for each job, other considerations are also taken into account: in the New Labour years it meant balancing Blairites and Brownites; the coalition had to have the right number of Tories and Lib Dems; since 2016, balancing Remainers and Leavers has been seen as critical.

It is likely that only the very top jobs – chancellor, foreign secretary and home secretary – will be announced on Wednesday night. The rest of the cabinet will be rolled out on Thursday, with more junior jobs to follow.

Where the coalition had got into the habit of announcing reshuffles on Twitter, Team May thought this too Cameroon and opted for formal press releases with the Downing Street crest on.

Would-be ministers are brought into Downing Street through the front door or via the cabinet office and left in a small waiting room just off the main entrance to No 10.

“You know what I’ve got, don’t you?” a nervous Boris Johnson asked Perrior on the evening of July 13, 2016. “Yes,” she replied. “But it’s not for me to tell you. It’s for the prime minister. So you just have to wait a little bit longer.” He was then summoned to the cabinet room to be offered the job of foreign secretary, before returning to a makeshift photographer’s studio in a side office where portraits would be taken to mark the occasion.

A slick operation. But not perfect. At one point George Osborne, still resident in No 11, walked past just as someone was shouting, “Can you just repeat that? Philip Hammond is the new chancellor?” Osborne winked and carried on. Perrior explains, “George Osborne got fired via someone shouting in a corridor a little bit loudly.”

The switchboard For new arrivals into Downing Street, “Switch” is about to change their lives. The Downing Street switchboard is staffed around the clock by a team of crack operatives able to get anyone on the phone anywhere at a moment’s notice.

Technology has obviously changed its role. Major and Blair didn’t have a mobile phone. Brown was less of a stickler for process, and would text and email at all hours. These days a prime minister could bypass Switch by whatsapping their ministers, advisers or other world leaders. They could also bypass their press teams by firing off tweets, creating the havoc that Donald Trump seems to thrive on in the White House.

“If Donald Trump were prime minister,” says O’Donnell, “I would have kittens, because that’s just not the way our system works.”

The first job for Switch will be to co-ordinate the congratulatory phone calls. Traditionally, the president of the United States is the first wellwisher to get through.

George W Bush was the first to call Brown. Three years later the White House was on the line again. “I’m speaking to you now from No 10 for the first time,” Cameron told Obama, with a wink to his team.

Expect President Trump to be first on the line next week, too. Or perhaps he will just tweet. Might an early call from Germany’s Angela Merkel or Ireland’s Leo Varadkar help to oil the wheels of a new Brexit deal? Also listening in to those calls will be the chief of staff, special advisers, foreign policy experts and press aides charged with briefing out (some of) what is said.

There will also be hundreds, if not thousands, of calls from friends and family. O’Donnell says, “These may be the extended family that the prime minister’s forgotten all about. They may feel that now their third cousin twice removed has become prime minister, they really need to congratulate them.”

The gifts For some, phoning is not enough. Gifts, many terribly expensive, are dispatched. Anything worth more than £140 is seized by the cabinet office, and if the PM wants to keep it they have to pay for it. In July 2017 May was sent shoes, clothes and make-up. She chose to keep only hosiery from a firm called Luxury Legs.

And then the flowers. Thatcher joked in her memoirs that so many bouquets were sent to No 10 during her final days that “you could hardly move down the corridors for a floral display that rivalled the Chelsea Flower Show”. And they all had to go before the new PM arrived, with even more blooms.

Perrior says, “The place looks like someone’s died. I feel for anybody who has hayfever.”

The office Blair found Downing Street so cramped he considered moving the office of the prime minister to the QEII conference centre. Cameron toyed with moving upstairs to one of the grand state rooms looking out over Horse Guards Parade, where Thatcher had worked, before discovering there were no phone or IT connections. Instead, he chose the room used by Blair, then known as the “den”.

Bertin was not impressed. “It was a bit of a mess, if I’m honest. It was tiny. There were sort of, you know, stains on the carpet.”

When May, who inherited Cameron’s office, visited Perrior in her oak-panelled corner room overlooking the garden, she remarked how nice it was. “I said something along the lines of, ‘Keep your hands off … You are not taking this office.’ ”

In most workplaces having your own office would be a sign of status, but in Downing Street it can leave you cut off from the action.

Chiefs of staff position themselves right outside the prime minister’s office, deciding who gets in and who doesn’t. Everyone insists that the prime minister wants them to be in the room, closest to them, at all times.

“May’s thank-you party for staff came many weeks later, highlighting early on the lack of people skills that would bring her low

“You felt sometimes that you should hover,” says Wood. “Hopefully you caught someone’s eye and then they’d say, ‘Oh, you’d better come in.’ Proximity was everything.”

Under May there was to be no hovering. A sofa outside the PM’s office, used by hoverers, was removed. “It was made clear that you do not linger in this office,” Perrior recalls. “You are only to come when you are invited.”

In the early days of the May regime a small side office was commandeered by her chiefs of staff, Fiona Hill and Nick Timothy.

It became known as the “bollocking room”. “You knew that if you were asked to go in there … it was not going to be necessarily pleasant,” says Perrior.

Cameron had formality forced upon him: the coalition meant Nick Clegg (and his Lib Dem team) were squatters in No 10. Decisions had to be taken formally by both parties, not by a select clique. Conservative spin doctors and policy advisers were told to share offices with their Lib Dem opposite numbers. “I can remember being pissed off about that,” says Bertin, although she now admits it was the right way to ensure the coalition worked.

The night On Wednesday night civil servants will be encouraging the new PM to go to bed early, knowing what onslaught awaits the next day.

In 2007, at around 9pm, Brown went back to his flat – handily for the former chancellor, just upstairs – where his wife, Sarah, cooked dinner and close friends celebrated with champagne.

Next week, the new PM will likely head to their own home, because the Mays will not have moved out. But that does not mean time to switch off. They will have their red boxes of papers to work through, covering everything from a draft speech to a natural disaster or a parliamentary crisis. There is also the black box, known as “Old Stripey” due to its red stripe, that contains the most sensitive material, which even as foreign secretary Jeremy Hunt or Boris Johnson might not have seen.

Before heading off, it is probably wise to gather people for a pep talk, bringing together political advisers and civil servants to begin to cement them into a team. In 2007, Brown told the assembled workers in the Pillared Room, “It’s not every day you meet the Queen at 1.30pm, become the prime minister at 2.45pm, speak to the president of the United States at 4pm and get told by Sarah to put the kids to bed at 7pm.” Cameron made a speech joking about how he and Nick Clegg would get on better than Blair and Brown, which went down badly with those who’d spent years working for the Labour PMs.

May’s thank-you party for staff came many weeks later, highlighting early on the lack of people skills that in the end would bring her low.

The next day All prime ministers have a habit of starting early, and for May’s replacement time will be of the essence. On Thursday teams will be assembled early, at around 6am. The reshuffle will have to be completed, and the new prime minister is expected to make an appearance in the Commons before parliament rises for its six-week summer recess.

The diary will already be filling up. And it will be nonstop and baffling and relentless. Wood explains, “At 7am, you’re meeting with the Scottish Bagpipe Association, who’ve got a problem with tax treatment, and then at 8.15am you’ve got a phone call with the Armenian president ’cause there’s a problem on the border, and then at 9am you’ve got a policy meeting about long-term health policy. And you’ve got to fight against this tendency always to put aside the long-term stuff because there’s always enough short-term stuff to really consume you.”

The departure Like all good things, premierships come to an end. A new arrival in Downing Street means there has been a departure. Out with the old and in with the new.

In 2016, moments before Cameron went out to make his final speech, Bertin caught him just behind the No 10 door to tell him how proud she was of what he’d achieved. “Please don’t,” he said. “You’re going to make me cry.” When he came back in there were more tears, though he held it together. Just.

Leaving the building, and the power and influence it gives, is a wrench. Wood says, “It’s like handing over your most precious possession to someone else and resenting the fact that it’s not yours, but you want them to treat it well.”

Wood left a note to Bertin in 2010. When Bertin came to leave six years later she wrote a note to her children on No 10 paper, saying, “This is what Mummy did.”

And so it ends as it began, with letters. Before leaving Brown wrote three letters: one to Cameron (left under a bottle of whisky), one to Nelson Mandela and one to Aung San Suu Kyi. Most prime ministers leave their successor a note, knowing they are one of just a handful of people alive who know what the job is really like.

Brown had a well-worn joke about this. He used to say that when you finish in your job and your successor is taking over, you hand them three envelopes. When there’s a crisis (and there always is), they open the first letter and it says, “Blame your predecessor.” The next crisis, the second letter says, “Blame the statistics.” And finally the third envelope says, “Prepare three envelopes.” To find out more about what happens when you become PM, listen to Matt Chorley’s Red Box podcast special on iTunes, Acast and Spotify

UK politics

David Cameron

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Comments(84)Newestuyjujy yujuyjujyU

SShayeWestL24 JULY, 2019This was just riveting. Thanks Matt, brilliantly put together.ReplyRecommendReport

JJohn Must21 JULY, 2019EditedDon't fret. Trump will sort it all out for you during the 4PM phone call.ReplyRecommendReport

JJohnny C20 JULY, 2019Great article!ReplyRecommendReport

DDuncan Bell20 JULY, 2019Great piece, except maybe for the photos. Very insightful.ReplyRecommendReport

JJohn Noel HUGHES-WILSON20 JULY, 2019Of course the incoming PM could say , 'No, I am not going to be told what to do by you lot. This is what I want to happen. Now do it.' The idea that the civil service dictate the handover merely hands them power. Who controls the agenda? Sir Humphrey or his boss?ReplyRecommendReport

MMatt - Not the other one20 JULY, 2019According to the Bible of political processes - Yes, Prime Minister - an incoming PM is only applauded if they've won an election. Whoever goes into No. 10 won't have. So, like Jim Hacker, he'll be met with silence.ReplyRecommendReport

HHelsinki20 JULY, 2019Mr Johnson : DON'T BOTHER UNPACKING You won't be there long enough.ReplyRecommendReport

Rramtops20 JULY, 2019I truly cannot envisage Johnson being up to the relentless pressure and grasp of detail required for this job. I'm really quite fearful.ReplyRecommendReport

MMr Malcolm Speirs20 JULY, 2019I do hope The Times hold on to Matt, and that he does not end up at Sky News (where many excellent print journalists have headed of late).ReplyRecommendReport

DDave20 JULY, 2019He will find an empty box labelled “Brexit Britain’s bright sunlit future” and a full waste basket labelled “Brexit Promises”ReplyRecommendReport

MMichael Rose20 JULY, 2019John Noel HUGHES-WILSONYou really have no idea about the workings of government, do you? I doubt that Boris Johnson can tie his own shoelaces, never mind tell them what the civil service should be doing.ReplyRecommendReport

JJohnny C20 JULY, 2019John Noel HUGHES-WILSONMy father was a senior civil servant. He always said, Sir Humphrey ran the country. Yes Minister was how it really worked, most legislation is via Statutory Instruments penned by civil servants and signed into statute by clueless ministersReplyRecommendReport

MMichael Rose20 JULY, 2019Matt - Not the other oneOr hopefully a slow handclap.ReplyRecommendReport

MMichael Rose20 JULY, 2019ramtopsThink how how the majority in the country feels.ReplyRecommendReport

Oozodyssey21 JULY, 2019Mr Malcolm SpeirsHe does seem to be moonlighting in a number of different rolesReplyRecommendReport

TMatt ChorleySTAFF20 JULY, 2019Mr Malcolm SpeirsNo danger of that, I promise. Having too much fun hereReplyRecommendReport

JJohnny C20 JULY, 2019DaveAnd he will paint a bus onto the box full of smiling passengers The sort of people he'll meet in the asylum when his brain implodes due to the promises he made but couldn't fulfilReplyRecommendReport

[mythologyfolklore]

Your cowardice made us the monsters we are

(A/N: A little drabble from the POV of Loki and his children from their banishment/imprisonment until Ragnarök.)

Loki: My blood brother, do you remember? When in ancient times you and me mixed our blood and swore sacred oaths? You had just been betrayed, a lonely leader of a family which had banished you. And I was on the run from an abusive kin. We met after you gained the runes and gave your eye to drink from the well, but before you knew the prophecy. You knew not as much as you do now. Do you remember? You were wandering through the worlds and had nowhere to go. You were alone. Just like me. Do you remember? I saved your life. You had just sacrificed your eye and hung yourself from Yggdrasil. You, the first of the Aesir, looked at me, a fire giant too small-framed for his kind, and you smiled. I offered you to become your brother. I told you that I wouldn't abandon you. We mixed our blood and became siblings, not by blood but by oath. Do you remember? We made so many promises to each other. We promised to be brothers, to be a family. To share meal and drink. To support each other in battle. To share our knowledge with the other. To share each other's joys and woes. And so many other things, that are meaningless now. But there was one promise more. Do you remember? I do. You promised that my children would be yours as well. I promised the same. I remember. But you have forgotten, haven't you? I remember what happened then. You went to Helheim, to seek the advice of a long dead Völva. I waited for you at the gates of the land of the dead. You came back, paler than a ghost. The prophecy of the Völva shook you to the core, didn't it? You got all the knowledge that you have now. But was it really worth it? I didn't know what you had seen or heard, but I saw how shaken you were. So I comforted you and told you stories to cheer you up. I have always been good at that. You were so grateful. But now you're not grateful anymore, are you? You don't even remember what gratitude is. You have forgotten that, just like your promise that you would accept my children. You didn't accept them at all. Especially not my children by my beloved Angrboda. So what if they don't look like you Aesir? They're beautiful nonetheless. My oldest son, Fenrir. He is the wolf of wolves. He has my eyes and voice, my wit, magic and temper. When he takes his human form, you can see that he also has my freckles and ears. His blond hair and his strength are his mother's. But as a wolf, he has fluffy black and red fur. His teeth are almost as big as me. Fenrir is half as tall as the mountains of Utgard by now. But he will always be my little puppy. My second son, Jörmungandr, only ten seconds younger than Fenrir. He is the biggest snake the world has ever seen. He is so big that he encircles Midgard, so everyone calls him the Midgard Serpent. He has my eyes and hair and my intelligence, everything else he got from his mother. In his human form he's tall and lean like his mother. Fitting, in his animal form he's a very long snake after all. In his snake form his eyes are red, like my hair, and his scales are green, like my eyes. When the sun shines upon them, they shine so beautifully. When we were torn apart, his head was as high as my legs. Now, according to Thor, his pupils are bigger than an oak. But he is still my little Jörmi. My only daughter, Hel. Hers is the underworld, she is its queen. Inside her dwells the ancient, unhallowed and boundless power of the netherworld. She is neither dead nor alive. She is just Hel. She has hair of two colours. On her right side, it's silver blonde, like her mother's. On her left side, it's black. The right side of her face is rosy, fair enough to rival Freyja's. The left side of her face is dark from decay. Normally, that is. If she's angry, it turns skeletal, if she's happy, the left half of her face is as fair as the right half. She has my intellect, cunning and humour, but other than that, she is every bit her mother. But none of this matters to me. She is my beautiful little girl, my sunshine, and she always will be. And then there is Sleipnir, my middle child. Sadly, I'm not his father, but his mother. I gave him to you, because I hoped that it would save him from suffering the fate his older siblings had. Well, at least that worked out. Using my son as your steed, because he's an eight-legged, talking horse is just fine with you, huh? But you didn't treat my children with your daughter Sigyn any better, oh no. Even though they were Aesir, like you! My youngest twin sons, Nari and Narfi. They are-no, were their mother's spitting image. Black, starry curls, a small but strong frame. Safe for the green eyes that were mine. And they had my magic. I … I didn't even get to see what they would have been like, had they lived into adulthood. And look what you did their mothers! Angrboda, the Lady of Járnvidr, the greatest of witches. At least she didn't have to see what became of our children. She probably got the most merciful ending in our family. You hated her, because she refused to share her wisdom and her dark magic with you. But to me, she was the first woman I ever truly loved. The second one is Sigyn, the wonderful, boundlessly loyal, hot-headed tomboy at my side. I can't even remember how many tantrums she has thrown because of me. But no matter how angry she was at me, she was always there, standing up for me, even when everyone turned against me. Even now, after everything I have done, she's still here. This petite goddess is stronger than all of you. Angrboda is dead, you killed her. Fenrir is bound, chained through magic and your perjury. The magical chains cut into his flesh and you stuffed a fucking sword into his mouth so he can't bite you. You banished Jörmungandr into the ocean that encircles Midgard, threw him into it like a broken doll. It's cold in there, too. Not fit for a snake, no matter how big my son is. Hel is all alone in the underworld. Well, she is not alone. She has her subjects and her servants. But she can never see her family and we can't see her. Sleipnir is the only one you treat well, because he's useful to you. You turned Nari into a wolf and made him tear apart his own brother. Then you killed him. And Narfi didn't even get a proper burial. No. His guts are what my chains are made of. I've been chained to these fucking rocks with the entrails of my own son, for … how long? I don't even remember. Hard to tell, it's always dark in this cave. A few metres above my head, a snake is bound and her acidic venom drops onto my face, no thanks to Skadi. Fucking whore. It hurts like a bitch, when the venom hits my face, it burns my skin. But Sigyn is here, holding a bowl over my head, keeping the poison from dropping onto my face. She suffers so much, deserving none of it. My poor, dear Sigyn. You made her watch, as her sons were killed and I was bound with the guts of one of them. You told her that everything happening was my fault. I admit, part of this is true. But let me tell you this, I'm not sorry for killing your precious Baldr. Or for framing his twin, which lead to him getting killed as well. I was envious of them, both of them, I'm not ashamed of admitting it. I hated Baldr because you loved him for being sweet, innocent and beautiful, while you scorned my dear children for not being like that. Everyone praised him, looked up to him, when he hardly did anything to deserve that! It was me who did all the work for you! Not him! Me! And he got all the love and attention! And do you know what I hated most about your third youngest son? That he didn't become a conceited and arrogant prick over it. On the contrary, he hated it! I saw it in his eyes. And you didn't even know, being the superficial bastard you are. You just saw the pretty boy. Only his blind twin and I saw the miserable wretch he truly was. I hated Hödr, because you loved him for being so content with living in Baldr's shadow (literally, because he was the god of darkness and winter). He was the only person your beloved Baldr truly cared about, aside from his own child, of course. But most of all I hated him for being so much like you. He was much kinder and more sensible, but he was your spitting image. Even his gloomy, calm and aloof demeanor was just like yours. Just looking at him reminded me of you. I hated it. To cut it short, I hated them, because they were your children and because you loved them. Before I murdered Baldr, he and I had a little talk. You don't know, but he knew that I would be his murderer. You'd be surprised at how casual he was about it, after making such a fuss about his nightmares. He wasn't even resentful towards me. He smiled and still called me 'Uncle'. It was unbearable. And I realised something that terrified me: As much as I envied him and his brother, I loved them as well. I realised that I was becoming something like a surrogate father to them. I couldn't allow that to happen. I should hate them for being your sons. They didn't deserve to die, but I had to cause their deaths. I had to get them killed, before they could become like you. Baldr and Hödr were too good for you anyway. And my daughter Hel will take good care to keep them that way. There is no doubt, she is better for them than you are, much better. You don't deserve them. You took away from me what I held dearest. So I did the same to you. When you bound me, you asked me if we were even. I laughed at you. I told you that to get even, I would have had to kill Thor, Vidarr and Hermódr as well. You told me that I never would have accomplished that. I laughed again. Told you not to underestimate me. But the truth is - I could never bring myself to kill Thor. I've grown too attached to him. That's why my son Jörmungandr will do it. He has open business with him anyway. Both of them will die. Will I cry for Thor as well as for Jörmi? I don't know. I would love to kill you myself, my dear blood brother, but my son Fenrir has already called dibs. He will kill Tyr and you. I will laugh, as he devours you. I will weep as Vidarr avenges you and kills my eldest child. Will Sleipnir survive? I hope so. He doesn't deserve to die. But then again, when have the Norns ever cared about that. And then I will turn to the person who has always despised me, my dear nemesis. The relationship between me and Heimdallr is so complicated, you would never understand it. There is a strange freedom in trusting the enemy. We will kill each other. And we will meet again, in Helheim, where my daughter waits for her brothers and me. I remember the jokes and games we used to make about it. Kind of like you and me when we were young. When we became blood brothers, you had that mischievous glint in your eye, much like myself. There was a warmth and integrity in your smile that made me believe everything you said, even when I knew that you were lying. Now all of this is gone. You hate me. But that's alright, because I hate you too. You call us monsters, my children and me. That's true. But it was your cowardice that made us the monsters we are now. See you at Ragnarök. See you in Hel. I will never forgive you, Odin. Never. Fenrir: I trusted you. I was apprehensive after you had taken me away from my mother, but I trusted you. When we were brought to Asgard, you were the one who took care of me, when dad couldn't do it. I respected you. You were the only one brave enough. Brave enough to spend time with me. Brave enough to come near me. Brave enough to be fond of me. Do you remember, how you used to play with me? How you used to pet me and stroke my fur? How you and your wife spent entire days trying to clean it? I remember the smiles on your face, the laughter in your eyes. I remember how you were only one of three gods in Asgard who were allowed to call me "puppy" (the other two being dad and Sigyn). You used to play fetch with me, not with small sticks, that'd be ridiculous, you tore small trees out and used them as sticks. Hey, I'm a huge wolf, gimme a break! I looked up to you, like one would look up to a surrogate father. In a way you were mine, because dad was often busy. One day I turned into a human, just for you and dad. It was your birthday. I turned human, because making a gift is hard when you're a giant wolf. You were happy and you ruffled my blond head, while dad fawned over how cute I was. Kinda odd that I'm a blond, considering that my fur is black. Even my siblings liked you. You didn't mind when Jörmi snaked around your legs and you could look at Hel without cringing at the left side of her face, which is something only me, Jörmi, dad and Sigyn could do. Those were happy times. For a while I forgot that you and the other Aesir had taken us away from our mother. But then came that one time dad went on a particularly long journey for old man Odin. One day, I noticed that my little brother Jörmungandr and my little sister Hel had gone missing. I asked you about it. You said that you didn't know where they were. I noticed that glint of sadness and guilt in your eyes, but I was still a naive child and I trusted you. A few days later, you finally told me that Odin had sent Jörmungandr to the sea around Midgard, because he was growing to big for Asgard. As for my sister Hel, she was going to rule a world of her own. You didn't say that it was Niflheim and I, in my childish naiveté, thought of her being a princess with pretty clothes and lots of servants who would read every wish from her lips and one day I would be her bodyguard and protect her, because I'm her strong, big brother. You said sure, everyone who'd want to harm Hel would be scared away by my size and strength and I would be her hero. It makes my heart bleed to remember that. Looking back, I know why you lied. I was still a child, still a puppy. I wasn't ready to face the cruelty of the world. But a few weeks later, Odin accompanied you. I winced at the cold gaze in his grey eye. He said that I was growing too big for Asgard and that I would be moved to an island that was far away. I didn't understand most of it, but I did realise that it meant that I would have to move away from you and that I wouldn't be able to visit you, dad, Sigyn and my new baby brothers. I begged him to let me stay, I would be a good boy and do all kinds of things for the gods, just like my dad. He said no. At least I got to say goodbye to Sigyn and the kids, before I was moved to an island that was more than big enough to hold me and give me all the room I wanted. Said island was called Yngvi and was located in the middle of a lake named Amsvartnir, which itself happened to be in Niflheim. Yeah. I was alone there for weeks, until you and the other gods came back. You brought chains. Big, heavy chains. Odin told me that this was a game and that I would be famed for my strength, if I could break them. I was young. Still naiv, only a teen at this point. And man, did I ever want to prove myself? You bet! By this time I was already twice as big as Thor and probably twice as strong as well. I shattered the chains with ease and rejoiced. A few weeks you gods came back with even bigger, heavier chains. Odin suggested playing the game again. I looked at the heavy iron chains and thought for a moment. They were stronger than the last ones, but then again, I had experienced another growth spurt during the past weeks, and I had confidence in my strength. So I allowed them to bind me again. Breaking these was a little harder, but still easy. I quickly shook them off. But I noticed something strange. None of the gods seemed to be happy for me, not even you. That got me thinking. Next time you came back, years had passed and I was growing HUGE!!! What you showed me this time made me blink. A thin, hardly visible golden band that looked like it was made of silk. A silken band after two heavy chains? Now that was fishy. But they taunted me, questioned my courage and I didn't want to lose my pride and reputation. So I agreed to let them bind me, but only under one condition: one of them would have to place his right hand in my mouth, if they tricked me, I'd bite it off. They hesitated. Now it was my turn to taunt them. After all, if they were playing fair, they didn't have to fear for their hand, right? Right. In the end, you stepped forward. Again, you were the only one brave enough. But you had tears in your eyes. They were full of sorrow. It terrified me. They bound me and, just as expected, I couldn't break them. The gods didn't free me. They laughed. Except for you. Partly because you were feeling guilty for betraying me (yes, I could tell from the look on your face), but mainly because I bit your hand off. You didn't scream. You didn't shed a tear. You didn't even flinch. You just looked at me unhappily. And I hated you in that moment. Hated you, because despite loving me, you still managed to betray me, to put these false gods over everything else. I thought that it was your fault that I was bound, a prisoner. Now I know that it wasn't your fault. It was all Odin's fault, for being such a fucking coward. But I'm still angry at you. I was an innocent child, until you made me a monster. I will kill you, Tyr. And when I have done that, I will kill Odin, that one-eyed piece of shit. Jörmungandr: These Aesir are all pieces of crap. I mean, what did my siblings and I do to deserve this? First Odin throws me into the sea, like I'm some broken doll that a girl throws away. Then he sends my sister to the netherworld, literally. And as if that wasn't bad enough, they fool my brother Fen into thinking that they like him, only to betray him and bind him like he's a madman in need of confinement. Oh, and according to Fenrir, they have also bound our father and are torturing him for killing Baldr. And to add insult to injury, they killed our little brothers and bound dad with the entrails of one of them. Those disgusting trash bags. Why did they - no, why did Odin do all this? Why does he do this to us? We were just children, not normal, but still children. And if he had bothered to actually get to know us, he would have realised that Fenrir and I can be human too (and devilishly handsome ones too, if I may say so). Hel can look like the other girls too, if she tries hard enough. Heck, she could surpass that wench Freyja in beauty any day! But nooo, he was so appalled by what we really look like, that we were promptly banished. He fucking threw me into an ocean, I still can't believe it, after so many thousand years! I hate this place. It's cold and dark and with me being a snake, that doesn't go well together. I turn into a human very often, just to get into the warm sun and enjoy a little bit of freedom. Otherwise I'd always be stiff and have cramps. And don't even get me started on how there's not enough food for a snake of my size in this dirty puddle. Gha. It's also very lonely here. I'm the only one of my kind and since my family can't visit me, I have no one to talk to. Before dad was bound, he and Sigyn used to sneak away to visit sometimes. I remember that one time, after we were imprisoned, when she visited me in my exile and asked me for a token to give to my father as a means of comfort. Of course it was the middle of the night and yes, she totally had "borrowed" Sleipnir from Odin. I told her to pick one of my smallest scales. I heard from Hel that the Asýnja came to her and Fen as well, with the same request. The next time my father managed to sneak away (I wonder why Heimdallr tolerated this), I noticed that he was wearing a necklace with the scale Sigyn had taken from me, a tooth from Fenrir and a yellow and black curl from Hel's hair. I love my step-mother. If anyone is worthy of following in my mother's footsteps, it's her. She is the only decent person in Asgard, if you ask me. Well, at least the only decent one I know. She didn't care that we were two huge animals and a half-dead girl. She spoiled us anyway. Like we were her own kids. And I don't even know how old she is or when her birthday is. That's kind of sad. I never got around to ask her, no thanks to Odin. I can't believe that she's actually his daughter. I mean, she looks nothing like him! Sure, she's black-haired, but she's tiny, her eyes are dark blue and she has stars in her hair! How amazing is that! We always called her Sigyn of the starry hair. I swear, she must be a daughter of Nótt or something like that! She gets angry and yells a lot (mostly at dad and the other Aesir), but she has a good heart. Sadly, she's the only one I know up there of whom that can be said. I mean, isn't that what the Midgardians about Thor as well? Hah! How am I supposed to see the good in someone who took me and my siblings away from our home and mother? And speaking of him - I still have that scar on my head, where that bastard bashed my skull in. Seriously, what did I ever do to him?! I mean, get this! I'm swimming around, minding my own business, when suddenly something gets caught in my mouth, that tastes like beef. And when I come to the surface to see where it came from, something comes flying at me and then I feel this infernal pain on my head! I feel dizzy for a moment, before my sight clears and I recognise Thor in a little boat, about to swing his hammer again. There is a jötunn next to him, pale as a corpse. Come on, I don't look that frightening! Just because I'm a giant snake! But back to Thor, that bastard. That Asa actually bashed my head with this hammer! If I wasn't so huge, that blow would have killed me! Needless to say, I immediately dived under and refused to come back up. Good riddance, jackass! By the Norns, I hope that dad gave him a good ol' lecture, when he came home! Hmph. Trying to kill me for no reason, really. Just wait until Ragnarök, Thor. Then I will kill you! And I will do it for a reason. Yes, I will kill him and as many Aesir as I can, if it's the last thing I do. I know, it will be. But I still want my revenge before I die. Hel: Cheer up, you said. You're going to be a queen, you said. With a fancy golden crown on your head and pretty dresses, you said. You're going to have a kingdom, a castle, servants, subjects and riches beyond imagination, just for yourself, you said. Your family will come to visit you a lot, you said. You're going to like it there, you said. It'll be fun and pretty, you said. Lo! Here I am, in this cold, cold world full of dead people. The sun never shines here. When I leave my castle, it's hard to see my own hand in front of my eyes, that's how thick the fog is. And of course, my only conversation partners are the souls of the dead and my two old hand servants, Ganglot and Ganglati. "Fun and pretty", huh? You Aesir say a lot, when the days are long, don't you? And you know what the funniest thing is? I actually do like it here. Hah! Take that, morons! The dead have so many stories to tell and reading their souls, when they come in front of my throne, is way more entertaining than any book could ever be. They're not repulsed by my half-dead, half-alive visage. No, they worship me, they adore me! Ganglot and Ganglati are old and slow in their work, but they are special, very special indeed. Sure, the sun never shines here, but my world has a sun of its own - the underworld sun is like a huge black light. Pretty cool, huh? And inside, the souls of the stillborn provide a brighter light than that precious upperworld sun ever could. Bright to me, that is. But they wouldn't understand that. It's quiet here, not like noisy Asgard, but it's a nice kind of quiet. Little does Odin know that I'm wiser than him. I possess the knowledge of all who lived. Odin gathers many warriors in his hall but manier come to mine. But that doesn't make me any less upset. I can't believe that you lied to me. I can't believe that you took my family away, which was the most important thing in the world for me. Don't you Aesir know that family is the greatest, most powerful treasure a child can have? That nothing is stronger than familiar bonds? Aren't you such a tight-knit group? You despise us and our father. We're not like you, you say. As if you're ones to talk! How many other races is the community of the Aesir composed of! Jötnar, Vanir, Álfar, Midgardian… But you hate us because we're not as pretty as you. Do you even know how subjective beauty is? No, you're too superficial for that. My brother Fenrir is a giant wolf. No one looks more majestic than he does in his wolf form. Jörmungandr, my giant snake brother, is mightier and more imposing than any dragon could ever be. But they're not monsters! They're my beloved brothers! And it's not like they can't be human too! And I'm not a monster either! I'm not dead or alive! I'm Hel! Look at me from the right or make me particularly happy and you'll find that I can be fairer than Freyja! And as if that wasn't enough I had to welcome my half-brothers Nari and Narfi, who told me that you killed them and bound father with their entrails! They were innocent children! They were Aesir, two of you! Does your depravity know no bounds? And had my father not reason to kill Odin's beloved son? Was it not his right, after Odin tore us out of our parents' arms? And is Baldr not better off being with me than with you? He wasn't happy with you. You didn't give him what he needed. You didn't understand him like I do. He was your most precious light, now he is mine. He didn't want to go back and I didn't want him to go either. So I gave you an impossible task. But my father spoiled your meal again, didn't he? Hehe … you get it? He spoiled your meal and I eat from a table called hunger with a knife named famine? Hehe … meal jokes. They never get old. Anyway, since one creature refused to cry for Baldr, he stays here. And he will stay here until Ragnarök has passed. Then he will leave me again, as much as it hurts to think about it. But until then … I will enjoy his presence. Until then, he will be mine. He belongs to me. I love him. Surprised? Didn't you tell me that EVERYONE loves Baldr? Well, I'm no exception! And do you know what's the frosting on the cake? He loves me too! Now that's knocking you off the horses, huh? No offense, Sleipnir, hehe. But seriously. Even if you had succeeded, he would refuse to come back with you. He wouldn't go without his twin Hödr. By the way, Baldr angry at you guys for killing him. Hödr was one of you too, you know. But you don't care, do you? No, you only tried to ransom out Baldr, but not him. Seriously, dick move. (Baldr thinks so too) And then there is Nanna. She's pissed at you too, also for killing Hödr. At first we hated each other, but now we're gal pals. Hödr himself? Oh, I assure you, he's fine. he doesn't mind my relationship with his brother, in fact he supports it (you know, because he is awesome). See? They're much happier with me than with you! Hah! What does that tell you? If I was the monster you take me for, would they happier with me than with you? No! It's you who are the monsters! You mistreated my family, bound my older brothers, killed my younger ones, killed my mother and torture my father. You think I'm a monster, because you're a bunch of cowards. You were afraid of my power, weren't you? Were my father and my stepmother Sigyn the only ones who weren't? Ah, Sigyn. Yelled a lot and liked to punch dad, but she thought that WE were cute. She was one of a kind and a wonderful stepmother. I remember that one time she managed to come down to the underworld, only to ask me for a curl of my hair, just to cheer dad up. That was so sweet of her. I miss her, just like I miss the rest of my family. But at least I have my little brothers with me. But after Ragnarök, I will have them again. When they're all dead, I will give them a home. And we will be happy and together forever. Except that Baldr and Hödr will be gone. It hurts to think about it. But perhaps they will come to visit little ol' me. But it's long until then. And when the end of the age comes, I will lend my troops to father. I won't be there myself, I'll be too busy ruling Hel and Niflheim. Besides, I have to receive you all when you die. See you then, you worthless, hypocritical bastards. Nari and Narfi: We just don't know what went wrong. Our family was so happy. Mum was always there and loved us. Dad wasn't, but when he was, he spoiled us and told us cool stories. When we were really small, our big half-siblings came to live with us for a while. Mum spoiled them. They were weird, but it was fun to play with them, especially Fenrir. His fur was fluffy and he always let us ride on his back. And suddenly they were gone and no one told us where to. But dad was so sad afterwards. He cried almost every night. Then mum gave him a present and he got a bit better. The other Aesir seemed to like us. Our uncles Baldr and Hödr always taught us cool stuff, just like dad always did. And uncle Thor played with us and gave us piggy-bag rides. And suddenly uncle Baldr and auntie Nanna were dead. Then, a year later, uncle Hödr was dead too. They said that it was him who killed uncle Baldr. But that's impossible! He loved him so much! A few decades after that, they arrested dad. Then they dragged us out of mum's arms and took us to a far away place. It was only then that we learned that it had actually been dad who had killed Baldr. And then Odin said 'An eye for an eye' and turned Nari into a wolf. It hurt, being transformed into a wolf. Suddenly I saw Narfi and forgot that he was my brother. A few minutes later, I stood over his intestines and dad was screaming and I suddenly realised what had happened. But before I could grief, Odin pierced me with his spear. The last thing I saw was how they bound dad with Narfi's guts, then I died. We found ourselves in Helheim and in front of Hel's throne. We had never really seen our older sister, even in Asgard, because she had always hidden away. Now that we saw her, first she was a bit scary with her half-dead face. But she is so nice to us. Actually, she's the best big sis ever. She is so badass and lets us live in her palace, we can do whatever we want and she plays with us, when she has the time. Uncle Baldr and uncle Hödr are there too. They always have time for us and keep teaching us awesome stuff. Hel does so too, but she is very busy ruling the underworld. They all know a lot and Hel knows so cool magic, just like dad. And then there is our … uh, other mother? Angrboda. She is the mum of our older siblings minus Sleipnir, a powerful Jötunn witch and very nice, but also very scary. She's even smarter than Odin, at least we think so. She knows everything. Hel too. Maybe she got that from her. But we miss mum and dad so much. But that's okay, because Hel says that we will have them back eventually and Hel never lies. Sleipnir: Sometimes I wish I had never been born. Sometimes I curse the family I've been born into. Sometimes I regret that I can't just be a normal stallion. Hehe, nope. I'm a magical, talking horse with eight legs. Also, my mother is a shapeshifting trickster whose blood-brother is my master. Oh, and I have three monster siblings and two younger human siblings. Don't worry, I can turn into a human too. Woohoo. Joy, joy. I only met my siblings when they were taken from Jötunheim and stayed in Asgard for a while. It was actually them who taught me to transform into a human shape. I'm a grey horse with a dark grey mane and my mother's green eyes. When I turn human, my skin is pale, my hair is still dark grey and my eyes still green, but for some reason I have … freckles? Must have gotten that from mother too. Oh, and my mother is actually a guy. At least everyone thinks so. I'm not so certain, I mean he's a fire Jötunn and a shapeshifter, perhaps he's gender non-binary. Anyway, my older half-siblings soon were taken away and suffered fates they didn't deserve, just because the Aesir didn't like the way they looked. Dick move. Mother was so distressed. No. Distressed isn't the right word, more like mad with grief. He was in a dazed state for months. It was so scary and I was only a foal back then. Mother recovered afterwards, but I could practically smell the hatred boil inside him, the evil schemes he was plotting. He was never one to think logically. Oh mother, my dear poor mother, you're such a fool. You wanted to avenge Angrboda's children and murdered Baldr, the most beloved of the Aesir. Then you sabotaged his return. And then you rubbed it into their faces. And now you're chained to not only one but THREE rocks with the guts of Narfi, my little half-brother. Everyone in my family is gone and I alone am still here, serving Odin. I miss you so, my dear mother. And I miss you too, my siblings, even these of you whom I hardly knew. I will see you at Ragnarök, my dear family. And we will be together in Helheim. At least I hope so. I don't know, if I'll die at Ragnarök, but I hope that I will. I just want to be with you again. I miss you.

[insphoeration]

Between Right and Wrong

Part three of my prince Yunho thing 

Fandom: ATINY

Pairing: prince!Yunho x nonroyal!reader (fem)

Summary: Someone catches the eye of the future king and it isn’t his future queen. [Fluff but some angst because it mentions death as something more desirable than something] Part 1 here

One of his hands rested on your waist, while the other came up to wipe the smudge of lipstick on the corner of your mouth, then to cup your cheek. You were dizzy, he was so close you could barely think straight but you knew enough to know as good as his hand felt on you it was all wrong. You brought your hand up to graze his wound, hoping it would snap you both out of making a terrible mistake.

“Your majesty, you’re hurt.”

He shook his head.

“Only a scratch.” He whispered, against your lips.

Yunho’s thoughts were filled with you, it both delighted him and pissed off. When he was having a hard day, all he had to do was look for you, your smile that could melt the entirety of the northern kingdom, but that smile haunted him when he was in meetings. No matter how important the situation, a thief in the village, the rising tension with the northern kingdom, you seemed to take president.  And with you taking up most of his attention, he completely forgot about his family coming to visit. 

“I just don’t understand why we have to greet them so formally, they’re family.” Yunho grumbled, fussing with the sleeve of his shirt. The guys have known him since he was a baby, they’ve seen him covered in dirt and sweat and yet his mother insisted on this ridiculous display. 

“It’s because you’re royals.” You giggled, walking up beside him. Once you saw his messy collar you couldn’t stop yourself from reaching up and fixing it for him, but froze once you realised what you were doing. “Sorry.” You mumbled, stepping away from him. He reached out to grab you to prevent you from moving too far back, but he just missed. 

“Why are you sorry?” He asked, although it came out as a whisper. He thought you were past this but apparently, you weren’t. 

“Your friends should be here soon, I’ll see you at the main gate.” You said, looking at the ground, Yunho opened his mouth to say something but you had already turned on your heel and rushed away. 

Seeing his friends was definitely worth the stuffy clothes, Yunho didn’t know how long it had been since they last saw each other, he only knew that it was too long. He greeted Seonghwa and Hongjoong with a grin and hug and put stiff Yeosang into a headlock, Jongho and San also got hugs. Wooyoung walked right by Yunho to Jihyo, bowing and placing a kiss on her hand. Mingi drop kicked him right then and there. 

“Relax Mingi, I was only greeting my queen.” He said, flirtatiously. Mingi’s face scrunched up in disgust as he stood in front of Jihyo protecting her from his greasy friend. 

The boys took to the gardens immediately. When they were little, the gardens were like a maze, they could spend hours running around, but now that they towered over the bushes, they spent their time practising archery and swordsmanship. 

The servants brought them some tea and snacks while they fooled around, or rather San and Wooyoung were sparring with large branches, Yeosang and Seonghwa were competing to see who could do better in archery in such a civilised way it made Yunho roll his eyes. Jongho was tossing around an apple by the fountain with Mingi trying to distract him, Hongjoong sat with Yunho by the tea, catching up with and occasionally heckling his friends. 

“Seonghwa, is that really the best you can do?” Hongjoong teased as Seonghwa got a near perfect bulls-eye. Seonghwa chuckled and shook his head. 

“My apologies prince, for not everyone has the time to shoot arrows all day.” Seonghwa called back, the two were cousins but Seonghwa did not have royal blood and so he was only a Noble but Hongjoong treated him more like a brother so he lived at the palace like a royal. 

“My queen!” Wooyoung called, jumping down from the ledge of the fountain where he and San were attacking each other with overgrown branches. “What a sight you are, after looking at these savages for so long, I feel like my eyes have been renewed.” Mingi jumped up, grabbing the stick from San and hit Wooyoung in the back. 

“Oops.” Mingi shrugged, tossing the stick to the ground. 

And as you and Jihyo approached it was like all Yunho could see was you. He stood up and grinned at you, making you blush and look to the ground causing his smile to grow even wider. 

“Noona, we’re hanging out guys only!” Jongho said in a nasally voice. Jihyo giggled. 

“Maybe if we were still young, but we’re of age now, which is actually why I’m here.” She said.

“Come to talk to your betrothed?” Hongjoong chuckled, they were all friends, not extremely close but they knew each other long enough to joke comfortably. Jihyo only took your hand and pulled you forward, instantly Yunho stood up, the urge to be at your side overtaking him. His heart was pounding too quickly to be considered healthy, but in the best possible way. 

“Actually, I came to introduce Y/N to Seonghwa.” She smiled. 

“What?” Yunho gulped. “Why?” He snapped, the pounding feeling moving to his throat, like it was blocking it and preventing him from breathing. 

“Lady Y/N must find a husband soon, and I think Seonghwa is a perfect candidate.” Jihyo looked at her friend sharply. “Wouldn’t you agree? He’s handsome, kind, well spoken and he has both land and title.” 

“It’s an honour to meet you, Lady Y/N.” Seonghwa smiled, coming up to you. He was indeed attractive but not the same way Yunho was, Seonghwa was intimidatingly handsome whereas Yunho was cute and warm, easy to talk to as well as look at. 

“The honour is all mine.” You said politely, bowing in front of him. Life was cruel, why couldn’t Seonghwa be the unattainable prince and Yunho the person your queen would set you up with. 

Yunho’s jaw clenched so hard that his teeth grinned against each other. He glared at Jihyo with all the hate in the world, almost matching his distaste to that of the northern kingdom. And if that wasn’t enough to make Yunho nearly explode, Jihyo clapped her hands together. 

“You guys should go for a walk, and get to know each other!” She chirped. Seonghwa held his arm out to you, you glanced at it hesitantly, wanting to look at Yunho. 

Yunho prayed that you look at him, so you can see his eyes pleading with you to say no, but instead you looked at Jihyo who grinned at you, nodding. Yunho’s heart shattered the second you reached your hand out and took his arm. As the two of you walked away all the energy drained from his body. 

“Why?” Yunho demanded through clenched teeth. 

“Come back to reality Yunho, Y/N needs to be focusing on her future, not an engaged prince.” Jihyo sighed. She knew you were interested in Yunho as it was painfully obvious but she thought Yunho was being a little selfish by making you think there was a possibility for the two of you. 

“If that’s the case, then perhaps I should introduce Mingi to one of the eastern princesses, Tsuyu is quite lovely.” He hissed, walking right up to her. She glared back at him. 

“How dare you.” She sneered. “That is not the same.” 

“Isn’t it?” Yunho spat, Jihyo opened her mouth to say something but Yunho was already walking away.  

👑

Seonghwa turned out to be a lovely person, much less intimidating than he looked, there was only one problem, he wasn’t Yunho. You didn’t know what it was, Seonghwa was perfect, perfect for you, a perfect man, just perfect. But perhaps you were just a masochist because you couldn’t cut the thread that connected your heart to Yunho. 

“Lady, Y/N?” Hongjoong greeted, you bowed to him. 

“Prince Hongjoong.” He shook his head. 

“Please, just Hongjoong.” He smiled, you smiled back, your mind distracted from Yunho for only a moment. “How was your date with Seonghwa?” He asked and your smile faltered, that it was a date wasn’t it? 

“It was good, Seonghwa is quite the gentleman.” You smiled politely. Hongjoong nodded knowingly. 

“If you don’t mind,” you shift your weight from one foot to the other, suddenly uncomfortable with the new subject. 

“Of course.” Hongjoong stepped aside, letting you scurry away. You went straight to the kitchen seeking the comfort that only cake could fill. And apparently Yunho had the same idea because he walked into the kitchen shortly after you started digging into the cake with only a fork. He froze when he saw you, a million things running through his mind, as well as yours, the both of you stayed silent, not knowing what to say until-

“I don’t know what to do.” Yunho blurted, tears threatening his eyes. 

“About what?” You asked, your voice just above a whisper.

“You.” He confessed. Your breath hitched in your throat and if you hadn’t abandoned the cake, you would have choked on it. “I know that I shouldn’t be here, so close to you, it’s dangerous for me, for your reputation. And now that Jihyo has introduced you and Seonghwa, I really shouldn’t be here.” 

“I’m not a pet for someone to command where I get to be.” You teased, trying to bring his beautiful smile back to his face. “I make my own decisions, your highness.” 

“Then tell me what I should do, because the logical part of me is screaming at myself to turn around and run, to put as much distance between us as possible.” He whispered. “But I can’t.” He looked drained, like he could fall to his knees at any moment. “In fact, the only thing I’ve been wanting to do is kiss you.” 

You let out a sharp breath you didn’t even realise you were holding. 

“So, what should I do?”

Part 4 ~

[emrysarthurpendragon]

Whumptober day 3 | Alt: Comfort

Where am I?

 What happened to me?

 Arthur? Arthur, where are you?

 Am I dead? Maybe he killed me before I woke again? For our friendship’s sake?

 Merlin’s drifted back into darkness’s arms; he felt safe, for now.

* * *

 Arthur had been thinking. A lot. Near the fire, Merlin had been unconscious for the past hours and all the prince could focus on was how Merlin had magic. No. Not had, has. Gaius’s ward was still breathing, and this would not cease anytime soon. Not even with his … lies. Had Merlin been practising when they first met? Probably. This would explain all the weird incidents occurring when they ran after one another and how Arthur made a fool of himself. How powerful was his friend? He made an entire building fell into pieces. He made them transport without even being awake when it happened. That must be something! Even regarding wizards’ standards. Blue eyes fell on Lancelot. The knight had been keeping watch over Merlin since they arrived here. He tended to the serving boy’s wounds and never let them approach with weapons at hand’s reach. They all noticed healed scars on their friend’s body. Scars that faded long ago, but with terrible stories attached to them. He saw Merlin half-naked through the years. At least after they met, and the boy had no choice but change into dry clothing after their usual banters. Those were inflected to his manservant after he first came to the citadel. By whom? Noblemen bother by their strange friendship? Attackers? Whenever they were ambushed? No. Arthur snorted when he remembered Merlin cowering to avoid battle. Or was he? Strange things did happen when bandits or enemies of Camelot attack them. Branches fell with perfect timing on their opponents, saving their lives more than once. Was it Merlin? He needed to know. If not for his sake, for Merlin’s. If he were right, this could be proof enough all sorcerers were not filled by hatred and darkness. Merlin was the opposite. Kind. Good-hearted. Goofy. A weird sense of humour, which often involved making fun of his master. Selfless too. He sacrificed his own well-being for Arthur, working extra hours just so his amour would be clean for the next day, and then stumbling more than ever the next day. Still he saw nothing. There must have been signs. Hints toward Merlin’s secret. With a heavy sigh, Arthur stretched and walked to Lancelot. The man glared at him, gesturing to his sword and the prince left it a few steps behind before sitting next to both his knight and valet.

“How did you find out?” he asked after an uncomfortable silence. If Lancelot knew and said nothing, this must mean something.

“Remember the manticore’s quest? Merlin used magic to save me and kill that beast. I’ve known since then,” Lancelot said, smiling fondly at their sleeping friend. “Then, I started noticing things. Like how he protected us without getting credits for it.”

“And Emrys? He’s related to Merlin?”

“I…” Lancelot hesitated; Arthur knew the truth now. “Yes. Pretty much. That’s why Morgana questioned him. Merlin told me her power showed her future. In it, Emrys killed her during a terrible battle. Since then, she wanted to find out who he is and stop him at all costs.”

“I don’t understand. Percival said I’m supposed to work hand in hand with Emrys. Legend and destiny. If it’s true, where is Emrys now? Why doesn’t he show up and change my mind on magic?” they would not build that future if they were playing hide and seek together.

“That’s the trick. He’s already here. Hidden in plain view and going unnoticed among your people,” chuckled Lancelot, now noticing how close the others were. They started listening and Leon gasped, realisation filling his features.

“Merlin?” he asked in a low voice, his gaze unmoving while said boy breathed in and out. In and out. Unaware of his surroundings.

“What about Merlin?” Arthur asked, still oblivious. He just couldn’t imagine Gaius’s ward as a powerful being. Not even after what they witnessed earlier.

“Yes, Merlin He’s Emrys. He was born to protect you, Arthur. He would die to do so, if it means you stay alive.”

“But it’s stupid! Merlin can hurt himself with a spoon! If he were so powerful, he would be dead because he sneezes too hard and just blew his room up!” OK, kind of rude. Merlin was not so stupid. Or was he? “He can’t keep a secret. I would know. It’s not…”

“Merlin’s more than that. Just … talk with him. Give him a chance,” Lancelot asked.

 With the betrayal still burning him third degree, Arthur wanted to say no. The conflict feelings sent him various messages. Forgive or kill. Understanding or hatred. Decide never felt so difficult before. The prince he used to be when they met, his father’s puppet, roared with anger and wanted to deliver Merlin to the flames. His new self, the one with strong feelings for his servant stood proudly, facing whoever may hurt the brunet. He needed to listen. To understand Merlin’s side of the story. So he waited … night turns into daylight. Another afternoon started and night fell again when Merlin awoke. After their talk the previous day, Lancelot had relaxed enough to sleep. Arthur took first watch and noticed Merlin’s eyes fluttering open.

“Rise and shine,” the prince mocked his serving boy’s usual greeting. “How are you feeling? You … you scared us.” You scared me. I thought I’d lost you. Don’t ever do that to me again.

“I … what…” then it hit him. Arthur knew the exact moment Merlin remembered what happened and what he’d done. Merlin went into full panic attack mode and Arthur’s body reacted before he could think. His arms locked around Merlin’s waist and he whispered words he never thought he would say. Especially to a sorcerer.

“Shh … it’s okay, Merlin. You’re fine. You saved us,” he murmured, gently brushing a strand of black hair. Merlin jumped at the touch and Arthur felt a pang of worry. This man could be the death of him. “Are you hurt?”

“I’m still alive…” Merlin whispered, dumbfound. Why had Arthur did not kill him? He had plenty of time if he had been out all that time. Wait. Arthur was hugging him. He watched him with worried eyes and something else … was it … no. Not love. Arthur loves no one more than his own person; a royal prat. “I was supposed to die!” the warlock suddenly gasped, watching around them with fright. Why was he…? He made a choice. He picked his life as a sacrifice to the goddess. He had to give up everything, just so Arthur may have a long and peaceful life, with a queen and lots of kids running in the castle. But here he was, breathing and … his mind free of Morgana’s spell. Free of whatever had bothered him for the last few weeks. Even when he walked and hang himself in an oak tree. Well, mostly. He still heard the voices in his mind, whispering tempting words behind an obsidian wall. They will come back, eventually.

“Merlin. Merlin focus,” ordered Arthur. “Good. Breathe in, breathe out … I know you’re scared. Listen to me. I won’t kill you. I’m hurt. I’m furious even. You lied to me … you kept secrets from me.”

“I’m sorry, I did not…”

“I know. You had to. Merlin I…” Arthur inhaled, unsure. If someone had told him this day would come, he’d laughed at the man face. “I guess I need to thank you … for what you did. You protected me, us, Camelot. You got hurt and never asked for recognition. Instead, I acted like a…”

“A prat?” Merlin joked.

“Yeah. I guess you’re right.”

An angel pass, two, three and an entire van. Arthur knew he just shocked his servant. He never thanked him or anyone outside his knights before. Could one go into shock after such a change in their lives? After all, as a prince, people mostly kissed the floor he walked on and are grateful for his existence. Not the other way … oh … right … his head may pass the doors if he continues. His thought came to a halt when he heard Merlin’s soft voice, while their friends snore loudly around the camp.

“I’m dead. I’m sure of it now…” chuckled the younger man, raising a hand to brush over Arthur’s warm skin. If he hides it well, the once and future king felt a shiver ran down his spine. When he spoke, his voice sounds tight and uncertain. “Why would you? Tell me, Merlin.” The warlock still gently caressed his skin and they both blushed, even if no one noticed.

“Arthur never thanked anyone. Not even in my wild dreams. Ergo, I’m dead and I’m thankful…” under his fingers, Uther’s son froze. What for? “Arthur?”

“Don’t say those words. I’m your king and I ban you from dying. You’re not allowed to leave me. Not ever.”

“You can’t, I died already. I wouldn’t do that if I were still alive…” Merlin mumbled, sitting awkwardly. His hand still stroking his prince cheek. Their eyes met and suddenly, the world around them felt silent. Event the knights stopped their snores. King and vagabonds stared at each other’s for an eternity or mere seconds. Merlin’s inner voice tried to stop him, yelling something about him still alive or whatever … but he did not listen. He knew better. Arthur had to kill him, with the ban of magic still standing. He may regret it later, the morning after … but for now, the warlock stopped fighting his inner demons. He leaned toward his prince, the one who was still holding him against a strong body and their lips met for the first time. A warm feeling grew in them both. Arthur was stunned but deeper the kiss. He had desired that man for a long time now. Not since day one, no. They hated each other’s when they met; the feeling turned into something else. Respect. Love. Care. He wanted Merlin to feel it all and when wet tears fell over Merlin’s cheeks, the prince pulled back and gently chase them his thumbs.

“I need to show you something, Merlin,” Arthur whispered, not letting go of the sorcerer as he gently slapped the back of his head.

“Ouch! It hurts!” protested Merlin, his eyes widening when he realised when he just said … and did. Did he just … had he … no he … oh. Arthur followed his train of thoughts all along and snorted when Merlin yelped, mortified. Trembling fingers before his lips, Merlin shook his head. “I’m sorry. I didn’t … it’s the spell, I guess… I…” Arthur stopped the rambling, forcing his friend to meet his eyes again.

“Don’t apologise. I’m glad you did it … even if you thought this world was an illusion. And I don’t want a world without you. Not now. Not ever. Understood?” with only silence for an answer, the prince continued: “I like you the way you are. Magic or not. Clumsy or not. Brave or coward. It doesn’t matter, OK? By the end of the day, you’re still the same old Merlin. Now that I know the truth, I can help you protect your secret, especially from my father.”

“You… You accept my magic?” Merlin asked, still confused at the mere prospect of being free of any secrets.

“Lancelot talked me out my prejudices.” Arthur admitted. Remembering Lancelot words about how magic was not different from any weapons. Just like a person can either help or kill someone with a sword, the same thing works for magic’s users and as a king, his duty was to bring equal justice in the kingdom. Murder with weapons or magics were both leading to a death sentence. The others shall live free of fear. “Now I see clearly and I promise you this: once I am king, I’ll lift the ban of magic.”

[atopearth]

The Legend of Dragoon Part 3 - Fate and Soul

I remember Furni! It's such a cool town but so inconvenient at the same time lol, because you literally need to row a boat to go anywhere, including your own house lol! Lmao when I lied to the hotel person about being part of the defeating Kamuy hunt and she refused to give me the license to go on the boats loll, I had to be honest that Dart just came here and then she would recognise him as the heroes of Tiberoa loll. Anyway, I'm glad there was a good ending for Kamuy the wolf because it really just seemed to want to protect Teo and only became "savage" due to some other monster or something. Glad Shana helped it with her Dragoon Spirit. Speaking of Shana, I feel like she's really matured and become strong after getting together with Dart, it's really cute. And considering how the people in town talk about fairies and how Meru said she's been to Mille Seseau but was a bit shifty about it, I assume the Wingly Forest or whatever is here? Anyway, I guess Haschel really is Dart's grandfather considering the lullaby Shana learnt from Dart is what Claire used to sing saying she'll dedicate it to her future child? On another note, I completely forgot/didn't realise Neet/Dart's original hometown was in Mille Seseau so he's originally from here! Loll at Meru taking the opportunity that since Rose left to do some errands, she's going to run and do some too lol.

Wow, Deningrad is beautiful! Lmao at the guy near the entrance shivering from the cold and trying to run on the spot to warm up hahahah, that's exactly what I do when I'm cold🤣 I love how the other person walking around is like it's a warm day today because the sun is out lmaoo. Hmm that Divine Tree legend is interesting. Like, the idea of the land being filled with nothingness until Soa descended and sowed the seed of the Divine Tree which grew 108 fruit that were all different life forms, and that was how all the different species were spread across the world is a pretty interesting idea. So the reasons the Winglies reigned during the Dragon Campaign time was because the Gods gave them that power, and it was when they lost it that the humans were able to prevail? Hmmm, and now the Gods are on or are the Moon that Never Sets watching over the human age? Ohh the current Second Sacred Sister of Mille Seseau, Sister Luanna is also a survivor of Neet's tragedy 18 years ago! Kinda cool how the Queen and the Four Sacred Sisters govern over this land though, very different from Serdio and Tiberoa where they just have a king. Hmm, well, it seems like according to the legends, the Black Monster is basically some sort of monster of destruction there to kill the Moon Child that supposedly purifies the world and calls the Gods to earth. Which is interesting, because considering the "incorrect" decision of the Gods giving Winglies enough power to rule over everything and make humans slaves, are the Gods coming to earth really a "good" thing? In a sense, couldn't it actually be that the Moon Child is the one that brings destruction by doing that? I mean, what if the Gods want to "purify" the earth by destroying everything and just starting all over again?

I see, so Rose went to visit Neet and she meets Luanna! So, I guess if the Black Monster was looking for Princess Louvia in Neet and on the ship, the princess of Mille Seseau is the Moon Child and thus, Shana. What, the Moon Child's power causes everyone around them to become an evangelist for God, making them a servant to prepare for the descending of the god??? So that's why the Black Monster kills everyone who has made contact with the Moon Child, because they're probably essentially "contaminated". On the other hand, with Meru, I think there's a good reason as to why the Winglies hide themselves in a boundary to separate themselves from humans, and make it taboo to leave the forest, I mean, would humans even view them nicely? How can they trust that they won't be killed? I really love the home of the Winglies though, it feels really high tech and fun to teleport around lol! I feel sorry for Meru's parents though, they must be really happy to see her, but welcoming her would definitely earn the ire of everyone else.. Are the Winglies planning to kill the humans one day like the Bardels said? Will the cycle of killing continue? There's another Dragon and it's waking up?! No wonder the Winglies are on edge if the ancestors with the strongest magic power can't defeat it... The King of Dragons with seven magical eyes sounds scary lol, hmm the Divine Dragon huh? Ohhh the Dragon Buster was from here! I wonder if the Dragon Block Staff is enough to protect them..Aww...Guaraha is such a nice childhood friend, he's willing to go against everyone to protect Meru if need be. I can understand why Meru won't stay, not only does she need to help Dart and them, if she did that, Guaraha would be hated too. I hope Meru reciprocates his feelings one day though. Aaaand it seems like the Divine Dragon's seal has been broken somehow~

Well, I didn't expect the Divine Dragon to fly over Deningrad and cause damage to the city like wow. Ohh, so Miranda is the First Sacred Sister. I hate the part where the White Silver Dragoon Spirit rejects Shana and goes to Miranda because Shana isn't able to maintain it anymore or whatever. It's honestly just so heartbreaking to see everyone have to leave her here in Deningrad by herself when she used to stand by them too. I think it must have really hurt for Shana to ask Miranda to take care of the rest because it really hurt me to have to see this happen to her. All she has wished for all this time was to stay by Dart's side and yet she can't even do that now in her condition... It was really sweet that Meru got to talk to her parents properly, and to see her father really happy to see her, their hug was so cute. Surprisingly though, most of the Winglies are so welcoming! Like, they trust Dart and them because the Ancestor said to invite them in to talk about borrowing the Dragon Block Staff to block the Dragon, but wow, I guess they must really respect the Ancestor above all. Omgg, the Bardel brothers hate humans because their little sister followed Meru out to the human world thinking it was wonderful but then ended up getting killed by humans... that's so terrible...

It's kinda sad to think about how terrible the Winglies in the past were, especially since they even made a Coliseum for different species like humans and gigantos to fight to the death against each other for entertainment... Honestly though, I wanted to have a neutral opinion of Miranda since so many people seem to dislike her, but omg I think everything she says is just so...infuriating? Like, I just kinda ignored it when she asked whether they should force their way through the Forest of the Winglies to get the Dragon Block Staff initially, but seriously, which part of that is a good idea when you have no idea where it is and are you literally prepared to kill the Winglies to get it? How selfish can you be when you're asking them for something. And then now that we're talking about getting the Dragon Block Staff into our hands, everyone alongside Dart willingly offers information because they all know that if they want to defeat the Divine Dragon, they all need to co-operate and do what they can to stop it. Her "it's none of your business" when they asked something was just so rude, it's hard to even think of her as a companion. Honestly, it's okay if she's a rough person, but her attitude is the worst. Like sure, she's with people she's not familiar with, but she does realise that these are people she's going to be risking her life with, it wouldn't kill her to try and understand them more. Anyway, I hope she gets more understandable or bearable as a person because I dread using her in battle when I see her lol, doesn't help that I've never been a fan of the archer in the game since it has no Addition. Anyway, the Grand Jewel protecting the staff was much easier than I thought, maybe because I didn't need to rely on Dragoons at all lol, easily killed with Additions and having a therapy ring. I guess it was good that it kept hitting Meru and she had the therapy ring loll. Otherwise, I didn't even need to turn into a Dragoon, I feel like I should have turned into one for 2 turns just to see how strong it gets when it uses the staff against you haha.

It's so terrible to see the Divine Dragon destroy Deningrad like that, it's sad that Dart and them were too late. I actually think it's pretty cool how there's such a nice variety of people and reactions though. Some are hurt and scared, some like the items and weapons shop believe that they need to keep doing business and there are people like the hotel owner and the clinic people who are preparing to take in patients already. I guess the good thing about Miranda is that she's a reliable big sister to the others lol. It's sad that Shana is so perplexed over her powers, but at least she was able to save the people in the palace with it. And it's nice that Miranda is gentle and kind with her, also it's nice that she wants to fulfill her promise with Shana to "take care of the rest" as well as fulfill her obligations as a fellow Dragoon. It's so cute how Meru said she understands how to care for others due to Dart and Shana, it is true though. I feel so sorry for Shana that we have to leave her yet again to go after the Dragon though... I'm not surprised Lloyd was fighting the Divine Dragon already, but I'm kinda amazed that he seemed to have fended it off for quite a while with just the Dragon Buster, since he doesn't have the Dragon Block Staff to actually weaken it. Honestly, the fight could have been much easier if I used Albert and Kongol but I thought it would be okay with Meru and Haschel and my weak Madness Hero hahahaha, needless to say, I took a while plucking away its health with my subpar damage (Meru did 68 damage because I used her new Cool Boogie Addition lmao). Anyway, I levelled up my Additions though so that was good 🤣

I guess we shouldn't be surprised that there's a Divine Dragoon Spirit, but I wonder what Lloyd's aim is if the Divine Dragon was merely an obstacle to it and what's why he came to kill it? It definitely has to do with the Moon Child but hmmm. I felt sorry for Sister Wink that she practically led Lloyd back to the castle to capture Queen Theresa (since he needs the last Moon Mirror now), but I guess regardless, he would have been able to get her anyway. Honestly, it was kinda random that Sister Wink came out of nowhere to take the blow for Lloyd when Dart was about to slash him (after we defeated him), but it's understandable why she did it. She was smitten from the moment she met him, and honestly, he really didn't need to save her all those times to get the mirror but he did anyway. And I guess it's nice if Lloyd will understand a bit more about the kindness of people rather than focusing on trying to have this world reborn into a utopia with the 108th species? Not sure what the plan he and Emperor Diaz has, but I guess it's supposedly time for the new species to rule to fulfill Soa's intentions? I guess we'll get to know more about everything now that Dart is going with Lloyd to see Emperor Diaz. On the other hand, I think it would have been so cool if we got to have Lloyd as a guest character and play with him a bit! That would have been so fun~ Oh well. Anyway, wearing a Talisman and turning into a Dragoon is such a great trick against Lloyd! Since he mostly tries to instant kill the Dragoon guy with the Talisman, so in the end you don't need to heal much at all! Would have been much easier if I had another Talisman but oh well, all good haha!

So, the regeneration of the world that both Emperor Diaz and Lloyd seek is basically believing that the 108th species that Soa created reigning will allow all species to kinda go back to their former powers and glories instead of right now where species such as the Winglies have deteriorating powers out of their control? I was thinking the Moon Child was the 108th species but I was like, if there's only one, is it still a thing? Hahaha, but I guess it doesn't matter if it's one or twenty, classifications of species don't depend on the number of them after all. Ohh, so the Divine Moon objects were used by the Winglies to seal up the 108th species so that they could remain superior and that's why Lloyd needed them! The souls of the dead Dragoons from the Dragon Campaign are still wandering around? But Shirley said only 4 are still here, so including her and Rose that's only 6, what's the last one doing? Ooh, Lloyd got tricked by Emperor Diaz! I didn't realise he didn't know Shana was the Moon Child, but I guess the biggest revelation is that sadly, the Moon Child won't bring the restoration Lloyd desires for the world, instead it's actually a Virage Embryo, a God of Destruction that will in turn cause this whole world to be destroyed. I hope Lloyd didn't just die like that... I mean, yeah he's not a good guy, but at least we hoped for the creation of a better future for the current species, not really the idea of destroying everything and everyone, then starting from scratch again.. Anyway, that's kinda crazy, no wonder why Dart felt familiar to Rose, Zieg (the original Red Eyed Dragoon) is Dart's father, and also the "current" Emperor Diaz.

Ohh, so the 108th species was separated into two, the fruit and the flesh? So, a part is the Moon that Never Sets and the soul was captured in the Crystal Sphere that Melbu Frahma, the master of Winglies kept so that he could withdraw unlimited magic power from and conquer other creatures! I see, the reason why his soul was not mentioned by Shirley was because Zieg is here, having dissolved the petrification caused by Melbu Frahma when they fought against him. The humans destroyed the Crystal Sphere when they took their lives back in the Dragon Campaign, and that allowed the Moon Child to be born... I think it was pretty saddening for Dart to have to hear that Rose was actually the Black Monster all along though. You understand her reasons, because she knew that it was the God of Destruction so she had to kill all the possible Moon children and the "servants" it created alongside them, but to think that Princess Louvia had a twin sister and that was Shana... I thought she was the actual princess, but really, Rose killed the princess and never realised she had a twin... I guess we'll be travelling to the Moon where Shana and the Moon that Never Sets will kinda combine together and become the true God of Destruction? Honestly though, I knew Rose was the Black Monster but I never really thought of or remembered the burden she carried all this time, all the blood, all the hatred and all the sadness. No wonder why she said she forgot how to smile long ago. Ever since she started killing everything 11,000 years ago to prevent the destruction of the world, she lost everything and herself as well. She could only keep killing... It's really saddening.

I really loved this chapter for the extra insight into the Winglies themselves. The past ones that were super strong and dominated all species, and the current ones who are either obsessed with their past strength or the ones like Meru who desire a life outside of their little forest, or even ones like Lloyd who believe in a new future and creating it by themselves. It was really nice to see all that. Miranda as a character leaves lots of things to be desired though, she really doesn't add much to the party and she hasn't been very important tbh lol. I guess with this chapter, most mysteries were revealed at the end, but I really enjoyed the step by step we went to revealing the "last boss" who knew everything and dictated everything. The reveal of the Black Monster was also expected but saddening. It's a lot to take in all at once though, because it's kinda crazy to think how enormous the stakes are now compared to what Dart expected when he first started on this journey. But I guess his reason for continuing won't ever change, and that is to protect Shana.

[extremelyblackandwhite]

a new beginning - 06

Pairing: LOTR! James “Bucky” Barnes x Reader

Warnings: bucky constantly being hit by gimli

A/N: gimli playing matchmaker again. he ships it. 

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   - Are you sweet on my girl, ranger? - Gimli placed a pint of beer in front of the ranger who was sat down at the table staring at the wood and wondering how he’d gotten himself into this situation. He barely knew the girl, he had known her for less than a month but he was certain love was there. Maybe it was because she had been the one to find him at the doors of death and save him from it or maybe it was because she was a princess, the one he knew he’d never have. - The princess, are you sweet on her?

  - I think she’s a lovely woman. - Gimli huffed at James answer but he was too busy locked in his mind still trying to understand his feelings. He’d meet many women in his travels, even slept with some but feelings never seemed to arise yet there he was.

  - Go ask her to dance. - he almost pushed him on the floor trying to cause him to do anything but James was expecting that and remained sat on the bench like a stone person. The dwarf mumbled something before hitting his pint against the table calling the attention of everyone including the King who was happily speaking with some friends. - Faramir, get your daughter here. 

 - Last time I checked Faramir was King of Rohan not Gimli. - Faramir mumbled in his breathe as he approached his daughter who was still being congratulated and being handed gifts from people that she didn’t really remember. He touched her on the shoulder before pointing roughly in the direction of Gimli and James. She nodded and excused herself from her guests before starting to walk towards them. 

  - Now, Y/N, why is no one dancing here? Isn’t this supposed to be a party? Looks dead to me. - the dwarf chuckled heartily at the woman he had grown to see as part of his family. 

  - Well no one has decided to take the leap yet. - she sat next to them, pushing her dress to the side as not to get it stepped on. - Why? Would you and Legolas like to open the dance grounds?

  - I have a better idea. Why don’t you and Mr. Beautiful over here open the dance grounds? Pretty much the only young blood we have here. - he patted James’ back who started to panic. He couldn’t dance, he never learned how to dance, it wasn’t like dancing was gonna save him from trouble whenever Sauron’s rebels tried to attack him. Dancing was not something he could do yet the dwarf seemed determined in cornering both the two of them into an opening dance which meant all eyes on them. - I’m sure you’re a great dancer, Y/N.

  - Alright, I’ll open the dance floor as long as you find someone to dance with you at the same time. - the princess was a negotiator. She got that from her father for sure as both of them would either have it their way or their way in disguise. Fit to be a Queen, James thought. - And if Mister Barnes wants to dance. We can’t force him to dance, Gimli. 

  - I’m sure he’ll love to dance with you, won’t you boy? - he hit him in the back again and god were the rumours about dwarves strength real. He felt like his heart was about to come out of his mouth with the strength of that hit. 

  - I wouldn’t deny you a dance, Princess Y/N. - he got up and offered her his hand which she gladly took it. Maybe he could pretend to be a good dancer, how hard could it be? Couldn’t be very hard. 

The band noticing that someone had entered the dance grounds started to place a soft song and in that moment James realised that was happening. He would have to wing a full dance with a woman that probably had been taught how to dance ever since she was a child. 

She took a bow in front of him and he mirrored her bow before getting close to her, placing his hand on her wait as the other one went to hold her hand. 

  - I should probably tell you I can’t dance. - he whispered against her ear which made her giggle. - Are you laughing at my misery?

  - I’ve never had to lead a dance partner but follow my lead. - she took a step backwards and he took a step towards her and started to do the same thing in circles and around the dance grounds. - You’re not bad, Mr. Barnes. 

 - I’m afraid my parents didn’t teach me how to dance when I was younger. 

 - If you don’t mind my questioning, why do you not stick with your family? 

 - I don’t know who my family is, Princess. Or even where I come from. My oldest memory is being fourteen and being alone. - he replied and it broke her heart to hear it. Sure she longed to go outside the walls of Rohan but she couldn’t imagine being alone for so long or not knowing her parents. - Is that sadness I see in your eyes?

 - It’s heartache for your loss , milord. - she replied and he felt bad. James had never meant to make her upset or even to unload his past trauma on her, she was too naive to know what he lived like.

- Don’t be sad for me, princess. I’ve lived well and I’m happy despite all of it. I promise you.

- I don’t believe you, sir. - she cocked an eyebrow at him before stepping away from him as the music stopped and everyone clapped. - My offer is still up, you know?

- Doll, I don’t belong here. - he commented as both of them left the dance grounds, walking side by side. Many people commented at the princess and the rugged man by her, it didn’t fit, it didn’t look right. - I don’t think anyone wants me here.

- Nonsense, I want you here. 

- Princess, I’m afraid that If I stay ...

- There’s rebels approaching the walls of Rohan! - one of the watch guards screamed as he burst through the wood doors making everyone including the Queen and King to pay attention. - I’ve seen them, your highness. 

- Get the army ready and the women and children in the dungeons of the palace. - Faramir told one of the servants who immediately sounded the alarm which sent almost every single guard in the palace into the dancing area. Legolas rushed over to Y/N, grabbing her hand away from James.

- C’mon, we must get high ground.