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sasster · 3 months ago

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New Beginnings

GUYS! It’s Roe’s birthday!!! And that means .. I wrote a lil something! This takes place shortly after Flashback settled into Illioneus! [doc] —

Cold that sliced through to the bone. That’s how Styx would describe the snowy tundra presently occupy. A bitter colder, carrying with it the threat to sever the delicate balances that connect the remaining muscle and nerve endings of his body to the cybernetics that he relies on. And a quick flex of the fingers on his dominant hand, that ends up being anything but, tells him that this harsh cold intended on making good on the threat.

Even through the mountain’s worth of layers put on in preparation, bulking him out even more than usual, he will certainly be paying for this in the evening. Up ahead, and significantly more comfortable than him, the frigid territory’s single native troll moves about with grace unheard of from someone burdened by so many layers of clothing as she trounces through and upon the densely packed snow with little care. The crisp crunch beneath her footfall must be music to her ears. Home sweet home after the way.

When she notices her cyborg companion lagging behind, she pauses and turns a serene smile on him.

He waves back at her, another sluggish response from the systems within his arm that would need to be reckoned with later, in effort to communicate that he is fine, as he closes the distance.

“We are close.” Veylin says, her smile and tone bordering on the apologetic.

Though Styx has not known the cerulean long, he does know by now there isn’t a need to dispel the sorry. On top of that, not only was it too cold to feel anything beyond his own face, no sane person could hold the trip against her. A momentary inconvenience to collect her belongings and properly say good-bye to her home.

It is the least she could ask for after that entire Mahkir ordeal.

The empath nods before turning her gaze up toward the star litter sky, hanging over them like a blanket.

“It is beautiful.” He offers without looking himself, the idea of his neck freezing in that position haunting his peripherals just beyond the pure night sky. Wouldn’t that be a funny thing to explain back home?

“I have missed it.” She breathes into the air, wistful. And, with the distance between them sufficiently closed, she starts walking again without another word on it.

Her resilience is admirable; trading the world that she grew up in for the safety, and much more temperate climate of Illioneus. It couldn’t possibly be as easy as her serenity makes it all seem.

Yet there she goes.

Veylin leads him into her old hive that appears just on the other side of a hill. She doesn’t bother waiting for her mechanical escort either, choosing instead to just walk right in.

He follows a couple paces behind. It is hard to imagine himself in the small space she once called home, harder still to imagine that beast of a man tearing through it. Upon entering, she continues to walk quickly through the quaintly decorated front room. Without pause. He imagines that this is where it all shook out.

Styx stops to browse a shelving unit filled with board games while she disappears into a room at the far end of the one they entered, probably a private affair. Instead of prying, and to keep his mind off of the chill that even now nipped at the corners of his machinery, he scans over the selection of titles she’d collected over the sweeps.

Safety is not the only thing she is trading the arctic for.

None of these games are any that come with the single player in mind, and he gets the idea that if they did, she wouldn’t have bothered playing them anyway.

Isolation does not suit Veylin Kenshe.

“Styx,” the softness of her voice stabs through the cold silence of the room. He turns to the sound. “I want to do what you do.”

In her arms Veylin had what Styx imagines is a collection of diaries, and she fixed him with a stern look that did not carry into her voice. He did not need to be an empath to feel the conviction in her words.

“There is a lot that I do,” his gaze lingers on the collection that she bundles close to her chest, gloved hands know doubt white knuckling them as though they were a lifeline. Horrors untold must be contained in those pages. “Where would you start?”

“I want to help people.” She declares, Styxs looks up again just in time to find the intensity that colors her features. He understands that she well and truly means business.

That’s good. He begins to slot places for her in his mind. Helping others out of situations like the one she’d only just found herself out of is admirable enough, but would it be wise to send her out with such little time in between to heal?

He was no better, climbing up to the front lines the second he’d been proven to be able to walk and make a fist after trauma. It would be unfair, maybe, to expect the same of someone so young.

Would this in itself be healing for her? Something to mull over, no doubt.

“I know what it’s like to feel helpless and alone.” In the time he’d taken to consider her declaration, she’d crossed the frost covered living room to stand directly in front of him, books abandoned somewhere along the way. “I will do my part to extract those feelings from my charges where I can. To deliver them from places where those feelings are necessary.”

She has already given herself the job, it seems, with or without him. He can’t help but smile. “Hell of an elevator pitch.”

“I am going to help people.” She enunciates each word sharply, stabbing them through the air like an ice pick through the impenetrable cold.

To that he simply says, “Of course you are. We would be lucky to have you.”

Something inside her softens, as though the entire time she’d used the icy exterior as a shield to protect her from the shrapnel of her resilience bouncing off of the cyborg’s shell and exploding into the ether. He was never so cruel.

Then just like that, she resumes shuffling around the hive to gather her things, moving with a new airiness that suggests a weight has been lifted from her shoulders.

#styx #long post #coko writes sometimes #HAPPY BIRTHDAY WOWAN

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throneofsmut · 6 months ago

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Sweet Little Prince

Dorian Havilliard x Reader || WC: 1.9k || Warnings: None

Summary: Dorian finds out he has a son he didn’t know about. Based on this req.

A/N: Whoever req this i hope you like it. Idk if this is what you expected but it’s what came to mind.

****

Your son had finally fallen asleep causing you to let out a relieved sigh as you brush back his raven-black curls from his face.

A smile gracing your lips before placing a kiss on his forehead and quietly making your way out of his room, heading down stairs back to the kitchen.

You find Rowan putting the chocolate cake into the oven to bake.

“You finished it?” you ask as you step up beside the oven. “You didn’t have to.”

“I know, but I didn’t know how long you’d be.” He replies without looking over his shoulder at you. “And I know you want to get the recipe just right for his birthday tomorrow.”

“Thank you.”

He gives you a nod before rising to his full height again and moving to the sink to wash his hands. “Your sister wants to talk to you.”

“About what?” You lean on the island that’s in the middle of the kitchen.

Rowan turns around facing you as he dries his hands. He doesn’t say anything until he’s done and places the damp towel on the counter. “About you being Queen of Terrasen and ruling beside her. Together.”

You shake your head, brows furrowed, “Since the war ended, I think I made it pretty clear I don’t want to be Queen.”

“Why?”

“I told you, why already. You, Aelin and Aedion. I don’t want it.”

“Tell me again.”

“Rowan—“

“Tell me.”

Letting out an annoyed sigh, glaring at him for a moment before telling him. Again. “I don’t want to rule. I don’t want a crown or a throne. I have no taste for duty. I’m not suited for it.”

He crosses his arms across his chest. “Have you ever considered that, the best ruler, might be someone who doesn’t want to rule?”

A small chuckle slips through your lips earning a glare from him. “No, I don’t. Because I don’t want it.”

“Your sister just thinks that—“

Aelin walks through the front door of your cottage, “I just think that, it’d be safer for both of you if you moved into the castle and were crowned. She reaches the two of you in a few long strides. “You would be Queen and he”—your son—“would be the crowned Prince.”

Now it’s your turn to cross your arms across your chest. “He’s technically already a prince and I’m capable of keeping us both safe here—in our home. We don’t need to be in the castle.”

Your sister’s—your twin’s— face softens and she walks up to you. “I know he is,” she says gently. “I know you are. . . but please think about it. And if you don’t want to be Queen here, what about Adarlan? Dorian keeps asking about you.”

“Aelin,” you sigh, “you’ve been telling me to ‘think’ about it for two years now and I don’t want it. Or Adarlan’s”

She opens her mouth to say something, but before she can your son’s voice cuts her off.

“Mommy?” he calls out. “Mommy, where are you?”

“Coming, baby,” you call back.

Aelin steps back and you make your way upstairs to his room. As soon as you walk into his room he sits up in his bed. “I hear Aunty Aelin and Uncle Wowan, downstairs.”

“Did they wake you up?” You ask as you sit on the side of his bed.

He nods his head, rubbing his eyes—one sapphire blue and one bright ashryver blue, ringed with gold—“Can I say ‘hi’?”

You breathe out a small laugh, nodding, “You can say ‘hi’ but then you have to go back to sleep.”

He nods his head and lifts his arms for you to pick him up.

You head back downstairs with him in your arms. His head resting on your shoulder with his arms wrapped around you.

Aelin and Rowan both walk up to meet you, closing the distance. “How’s my favorite nephew?” Aelin coos.

“He’s your only nephew,” Rowan points out. Which earns him a glare from your sister.

“Say ‘hi,’ baby.”

“Hi, Aunty Aelin. Hi Uncle Wowan.” His little voice is still thick with sleep.

They both greet him back with loving smiles.

“Why are you awake, little prince? We trained a lot today.” Rowan asks him as he brushes a rogue raven-black curl behind his little pointed ear.

“I hear you and Aunty Aelin and I wanted to say ‘hi’.”

“That’s so sweet of you,” Aelin praises.

Your son smiles, his cheeks dimpling, and he turns to look at you. You can’t help but beam at him in return. Your own cheeks dimpling too.

He lightly tugs a golden blonde lock of your hair before whispering—not so quietly—“I go sleep now?”

“Yeah, baby.” You chuckle before giving Aelin and Rowan a quick look and they nod back at you.

And as soon as you’re done tucking him back in he’s sleeping. You kiss his forehead before heading back down stairs, “Sweet dreams,” your whisper into his night filled room.

“Fireheart!” Rowan scolds your sister as she shoves a forkful of steaming chocolate cake into her mouth.

She spits it out before even chewing it and you frown. “That bad?”

She shakes her head, brows furrowing sadly, “No. It’s too hot.”

“I told you to wait,” Rowan grumbles.

“Anyways,” you drawl out. “Why’d you come so late, Aelin?”

“My meetings ran long today and I had an unexpected visitor come.” She blows on a new forkful of cake to cool it down. “They’re going to be visiting for the week.”

You arch a brow, “Who?”

“A friend.”

Your gaze slid to Rowan, who shrugged. “Don’t look at me. I’ve been here all day.” And he was right. He’d been here since the morning teaching and training your son because the raw magic he’d inherited from his father began showing.

And a two—practically three—year old with raw magic and fae ancestry needed to be taught control early it seemed.

Also because fae males—even half fae males were deadly. Rowan and Aedion knew that so they came and helped you teach your son control. Fenrys and Lorcan had given up after your son had learned to summon fire and burned off their eyebrows.

Aelin groaned as she chewed a new bite of cake. “Good?” you asked. She nodded, still not finished chewing her first bite before getting another. “Are you still going to be able to make it to his birthday tomorrow?”

She gave you a look as if to say, Obviously, before finally telling you with words. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

Your sister and Rowan said their goodnights and Rowan had to practically drag her out because she was still trying to eat the chocolate cake. So to make it easier for both of them you just told her to take the whole thing with her. Her eyes glinted as soon as the words left your mouth.

You woke up early the next day to get everything ready for your son's third birthday and you had practically finished setting up and getting ready by the time Aedion and Lysandra came to help set up.

An hour later the rest of Aelin’s court—your little family—arrived.

Everyone was enjoying themselves and eating while your son and Lorcan and Elide’s daughter played together while Evangeline watched over them.

You got up from the table to go get the cake, still needing to frost it and add the candles.

Aedion rose with you, “Do you need help?”

Giving him a small smile as you gestured for him to sit back down, “No, I got it.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, I’ll be quick.” You reassured him.

Setting the cake on the counter that was in front of the window where you could still see your son playing with his cousins. He was conjuring fishes with his water magic and making them dive in and out of the lake in front of him. His cheeks dimpled as he laughed along with the girls.

You were so distracted by your son and the cake that you didn’t hear anyone walk in until they called your name.

“Y/n?” He called.

You stilled as your heart dropped before slowly turning around. The frosting spatula clutched so tightly in your hand your knuckles were white.

“Dorian,” you breathed.

He was still as beautiful as you remembered him. Tall, tan skin, sapphire eyes and raven-black hair. But, he was broader now—more muscular. And in place of the black collar that was around his neck the last time you saw him was a pale line.

“Why— How—“ he stammered.

“Why are you here?”

“I’m visiting. . . I got here yesterday evening and Aelin said you were all celebrating a birthday and invited me.” You were going to kill her.

“You settled.” He pointed out, his eyes taking you in.

Even though he wasn’t necessarily asking, you responded anyway. “Yes.”

“How? You’re twenty, I thought you weren’t going to settle for a few more years.”

“I didn’t think so either, but, uh, I actually settled while I was pregnant.”

Dorian’s face flickered with so many different emotions before he schooled his features and simply asked, “Pregnant?”

“Yeah. . . and not only did I settle but my son’s magic made me fully fae.” You didn’t know why you were just telling him everything. “The healers don’t know how either, but him being half fae confirmed it.”

“Son?”

“It’s his birthday today,” you told him.

Dorian’s mouth opened, but before he could say anything your son’s laugh drifted all the way back to the cottage and cut him off. His sapphire eyes shot to the window and he sucked in a sharp breath.

There was no denying the resemblance. He knew he was the father of your son.

His gaze turned back to you and there was so much pain and regret in his eyes but hope too. Maybe even love. “Why didn’t you tell me?” was all he said though.

“I was going to,” you admitted. “But before I got the chance to,” your voice cracked, “your father ordered you to kill me when he found me trying to talk to you.” A tear rolled down your cheek and he stepped closer to you and wiped it away. “So I ran. To keep us both”—your son and you—“alive.”

Your words weren’t malicious, just honest.

“You don’t remember?”

His eyes were still on you as he shook his head before looking out through the window again. “I missed so much,” he whispered so softly you almost didn’t hear him.

“I’m sorry.”

Dorian pulled you into a hug, “Don’t be. You’re both here. Safe and alive. That’s all I care about.” His words made you cry harder and he only held you tighter and kissed the top of your head.

You both were so caught up in your own world that you didn’t hear the little footsteps that bounded into the kitchen.

“Mommy?” Your son called and you and Dorian pulled apart.

He walked up to you and you crouched down to get to his level. “Why you crying?” He asked, his small hands wiping away your tears.

“I’m just so happy, my sweet little prince.”

He smiled and turned to look at Dorian. “Are you mommy’s friend?”

Dorian chuckled as he crouched down too, tears welling up in his eyes, as he looked at a small version of himself. “Yes. Her best friend.”

Your son smiled impossibly wider and stuck his hand out towards him and introduced himself. “Hi, I’m Dowian.”

Dorian looked at you and this time a tear fell. He cleared his throat, taking your son’s hand, “Hi, Dorian. My name is Dorian too.”

#throne of glass #dorian havilliard #dorian havilliard x you #dorian x you #dorian havilliard x reader #dorian havilliard fanfic #dorian havilliard x yn #throne of glass dorian #dorian havilliard x y/n #dorian havilliard reader fic

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