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xknivesandpensx · 1 year ago

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Like Pieces of a Puzzle

Chapter 6

Summary: What if Harry wasn't the only extra student called upon to participate in the Triwizard Tournament? Far from the most popular candidate, Draco not only has to take on the trials but also deal with his unexpected feelings for Hermione. Will he be able to face the challenges as well as follow his heart?

Chapter length will vary. I'll be referencing both the books and movie versions. Some things from what I've previously written will be mentioned, all of which you can find here.

And for those who asked to be tagged: @dayane245love

The last person Hermione expected to see was Draco. Not only were her S.P.E.W. badges scattered across the floor (after spending so much time making them too), the narrowed gaze she received brought about a wave of apprehension.

Probably because his blue eyes lacked the usual gleam of resentment. She knew, obviously, his hate of her didn’t suddenly disappear. His demeanor gave no indication otherwise. Both arms remained rigid at his sides as his lips creased downward in a frown.

He came off a mix of haggard in appearance and distracted given it took a moment for his attention to redirect itself. Maybe angry as well, something Hermione considered to be of no surprise.

Getting a better look though, his complexion took a rather white hue against his already pale skin tone.

“How about you try watching where you’re going!” Draco retorted. He moved past her, not really in the mood to deal with the strange sensation prodding his chest.

“I could say the same to you,” Hermione breathlessly remarked, more to herself. She knelt to gather her things, tossing them noisily in the box.

She shook her head, fighting the urge to say more. The unexpected collision threw off her guard. Hermione intended to head straight towards the common room and tell Harry and Ron about her newest idea, only to have her enthusiasm diminished.

The same routine between them started to grow tiresome. Biting comebacks, staggering silences, or he simply paid her no mind. Sometimes each one happened in the mix of a single day.

Maybe a tiny part of her clung onto a thin thread of hope. She took Ginny’s advice or at least tried to when it came to keeping herself open to other possibilities. Though she lacked any form of anticipation, especially given the school year just started.

Her head snapped in his direction after hearing a cracking sound beneath his shoe. He must have accidentally (or purposely, she wasn’t quite sure which) broken one of her badges. Hermione barely realized they spread so far.

“What’s spew?” Draco questioned, after picking it up and inspecting the letters. His voice echoed in a condescending way, yet not entirely held in an offensive manner.

“It’s S.P.E.W.,” Hermione corrected, gathering the last few, placing the box on the nearby bench. “The Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare, if you must know.”

“Of course, you’d feel sorry for the house-elves, Granger.” He rolled his eyes but tossed it in with the others. That must be the reason she hurried off to the library every day. The whole thing seemed like a waste of time.

She thoroughly believed in her cause and therefore felt no shame remarking in return, despite her reluctance to quarrel. “Given how your family treated Dobby, I’d hardly expect something as decent as fighting for elf rights would matter much to you.”

“Let me guess, Potter told you all about that, did he?” he asked, raising a brow. He certainly remembered his father’s particularly unhappy mood. “What does he know anyway? He lived under a staircase for most of his life.”

“And so what if he has? At least Harry values the well-being of others.” Perhaps judging Draco’s level of concern wasn’t entirely fair. After all, she knew very little of his inner circle.

“Ah, yes. Let’s congratulate Saint Potter and is overwhelming generosity,” he threw back in a drawling sort of tone. “Associating with blood traitors and Mudbloods alike. How charitable.”

Draco started to wonder if Pansy’s assumption of something going on between Harry and Hermione were true. She never failed to defend him and constantly stuck by his side. The suspicion rose from sheer lack of proper knowledge. But the two seemed awfully close and he happened to notice them head to the library the other day together. Obviously, he knew suspicion led nowhere.

Still, the mere idea irked him, no matter the innocence of a relationship at fourteen may be. And if he outright asked? He’d face a hostile defensiveness alongside the implication of another thing entirely – an obvious announcement that he…

Draco pushed it down. If he even allowed the sensation to flicker, he’d fall straight into whatever every nerve ending in his body screamed at him during moments such as these.

“I think I’ve waisted enough of my time talking to you,” Draco announced after a clearing of his throat. Now all he needed to do was keep walking and she’d no longer possess the ability to control his emotional state.

Hermione already prepared herself for his hasty departure, willing to let him go until her attention locked onto a detail he tried very hard to hide. “What’s wrong with your hand?”

“Didn’t we go through this already on the train?” he asked, reluctantly coming to a stop. Clearly, she didn’t mean the bruise she pointed out upon their journey to Hogwarts, which faded in color since.

“The other one,” she mentioned matter-of-factly. “Did that happen when you were with Professor Moody?” If so, what exactly gave him cause to think something so vile qualified as a proper punishment? She certainly didn’t need to be told what he used, having overheard Ron’s parents talk about it a while ago. From a distance she spotted the redness of his skin and a rather painful looking stiffness of his fingers.

Draco turned his head a degree, holding back his confusion. “Why do you care?”

“Why don’t you?” she countered in full disclosure of her own puzzlement.

He turned to face her fully, attempting to bypass the gravity of the situation. “My father will hear all about it. I bet he’ll be sacked by next week. The sooner the better, if you ask me.”

He couldn’t fathom writing a letter to Lucius, not after filling nearly three pieces of parchment. He merely said it to save face. Dumbledore favored Moody too much to fire him. Though he might test the theory. He found out a few complaints went a long way.

Hermione approached him, chasing away her hesitancy, and attempted to get a better view of the wound. He pulled away before she got the chance.

“I just wanted to see it,” she complained, huffing slightly. “At least tell me what you were doing. Because if it’s what I think it is, you really should go see Dumbledore.”

Lacking the energy to argue, he settled on providing an answer, hoping to slip away soon after, skipping over the fact that Moody threatened to use the Cruciatus Curse on him. “I had to write lines with some kind of quill from the Ministry. As for a trip to the headmaster’s office. I think I’ll pass.”

Hermione ignored the latter. “Black Quills aren’t allowed. Not to mention strictly intended for signing magically-binding documents in the form of blood, in order to make them legally-binding. It’s highly illegal to use them otherwise.”

“Then I can only hope Moody’s dismissal is made a spectacle of,” Draco affirmed, growing impatient. He wanted to be on his way already. “Are you quite finished pestering me?"

Hermione nearly let him leave, but she held too many qualms. Not on Draco specifically. On Moody as well for his detention tactics.

The question hung between them, levitating in place. She opened her mouth to speak and nothing came out. Sometimes Hermione wished her feelings for him would vanish, to never exist in the first place. How much easier things would be if that was the case.

But they did exist and Hermione needed to maintain a realistic outlook.

“If you let me, I can help ease the pain,” she offered. Even he shouldn’t have to suffer for something so minor as poking fun at another student, no matter how awful his remarks were. “It looks terribly unpleasant.”

The comment wasn’t offered necessarily to soften the blow of taking his pride down a notch. It happened to be true. Her skills at casting spells came naturally and while she expected a response in full derision, it shocked her to see him hang back.

He reluctantly sat on the bench, because he really was unwilling to stand too close, all the while thinking he must be insane to accept her help in any regard. “Make it quick,” Draco muttered. He brought his hand out to her once Hermione took a seat. Her box of S.P.E.W. badges rested between them, leaving a small gap.

His hand continued to scar as the letters lessened in visibility. It still hurt, however, like needles jabbing into his flesh. Draco saw how her expression changed upon getting a better view.

Pity. How he loathed to be on the receiving end.

Hermione took out her wand. “I need you to keep steady for this to work, it takes precision. Otherwise, I may make it worse. Dark magic is tricky to counter, even using the simplest of enchantments.”

Despite the attempt, Draco found it difficult to remain still. Even if the pain lessened since he left Moody’s classroom, it kept gnawing inward.

Hermione gently grabbed hold of his trembling hand, surprised, even more so than before, that he let her. It felt strange to feel the roughness of his skin against her palm. Sure, Harry pulled her along while they raced the clock to save Sirius and Buckbeak, but this – it casted a calming effect beneath the static of his touch, enveloping her in an affluency of fuzzy feelings.

Hermione spoke the spell in a whisper, unable to meet his gaze after its completion. Her thumb brushed over the marking, now able to get a proper view. “Well, it certainly hasn’t changed in appearance. It doesn’t hurt anymore, does it?”

“No.” Draco let her slowly pull away, immersed in an abrupt coldness once her fingers released. Unannounced to Hermione, he experienced the same awareness, though he lacked the ability to compare to another.

She looked down at her feet. “No remark about me touching you or name calling?”

Draco paused for a moment. “I’ll let it go just this once.” He couldn’t thank her or shake the lessons drilled into him. He was taught not to express gratitude to someone of lower standards to himself.

Though he ought to leave, Draco leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees, further inspecting the results of her spell, as if simply to do something amid the quiet. He shouldn’t have allowed her to help, the notion in itself came across wrong. Handling pain was child’s play, yet he caved.

In the past he may have gone straight to Madam Pomfrey, complaining all while seeking attention, but the mere thought of people crowding him, especially Pansy, who’s fussing he didn’t necessary mind, deterred him from the start.

Draco’s silent disposition started to unnerved her, especially while alone in his company.

For a second, Hermione imagined pushing the box out of the way and pressing into him. One hand reaching up to touch his jaw. Kissing him without any shyness or particular gentleness. She wanted to know what it felt like to have his lips on hers. If only.

Instead, she logically reflected on their positions and shifted uneasily, choosing to broach a certain memory rather than indulge in fantasies.

“Draco.” It almost felt funny to call him by his first name to his face. Typically, his surname sufficed. “Do you remember the day we met?”

Sometimes she wondered how much he recalled. They were so young, it seemed like eons ago rather than a few years.

He turned, brows furrowing from the random mention. “What about it?”

“Well…” She stopped short, not entirely anticipating a remark free of ridicule. “Have you ever thought back on it? I suppose you regret being nice to me, in your own way, of course. I’m a little embarrassed. I practically invited myself to sit next to you.”

Draco couldn’t figure her out. She went from arguing to offering to help, then into a casual conversation, speaking as if they were on friendly terms.

“You’ve always been a tad too assertive for your own good.” He pushed himself upright, resting his back against the wall. “You were looking for a frog or something of the sort.”

“Toad, actually,” Hermione corrected. Nostalgia washed over her. Their little moment on the train left a fond imprint, even after their second year rolled around and he started to call her a Mudbood.

“Must you always be so precise?” A twitch of a smile formed. It tugged at his heart, mixing seamlessly amongst an ounce of dread for the very thing he thought impossible from the start. That he denied only minutes ago.

He truly developed a sense of attraction towards Hermione Granger. And in acknowledging it, he considered the damage it inflicted on his family, the shame and humiliation he’d cast on his parents. Narcissa may not judge him too harshly (albeit disappointment would reign overall) but Lucius, he’d be furious. Draco, in no means, desired to test his father’s temper.

“Unfortunately, I can’t help myself,” Hermione commented. She hated to spoil their first, however brief, civil conversation in a long while. She feared it’d revert and the preference to maintain a good memory persisted. “It’s nowhere near curfew, though I best get going. Harry and Ron will start wondering where I am.”

She moved to place her wand away.

“The candy I gave you,” Draco slowly added, almost ready to chastise himself. Maybe for right now, until she disappeared, he’d humor his feelings for her. “It’s no longer sold but Honeydukes has some. All you have to do is ask for it specifically, if you still like them as much as I remember.”

Hermione stood and picked up her box, confused by the unexplored reason behind his comment, surprised he remembered the small detail at all. “I’ll keep that in mind for next time.”

He caught sight of the smile she made in mid turn, finally departing. Draco knew going back to hating her after fracturing his predetermined loathing of the girl would be an immense struggle.

#dramione #draco malfoy #hermione granger #harry potter #the goblet of fire #tumblr has been giving me a hard time the past few days #making it difficult just to get this in my drafts #i almost decided not to keep trying -_-#but i managed #somehow #anyway here's a full dramione chapter for you all #nice comments are always appreciated #sorry for any spelling or grammar mistakes

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animatorweirdo · 10 months ago

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Beneath the blinding lights

You are trying to tolerate the sun's heat. You also have a discussion about your curse with Maglor.

Warnings: death of orcs, some Noldor being brutal, mentions of assaults, reader getting a heatstroke, looking pale and a bit sick, mentions of cases involving people dying.

Chapter 6

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You watched as the elves rode after the orcs, yelling commands in elvish and shooting arrows in the warg rider’s heads and allowing those on foot to drag the bodies into piles and burn them. Shivers nearly ran through your spine. Maglor and his kin were ruthless when it came to killing orcs. The rabid ghoul-looking creatures had no chance against them— they were running away like rats getting chased by cats.

The sight kind of reminded you of your time in Maglor’s former fortress. How violent the orcs were and how they nearly beat you to death and did it again and nearly assaulted Melui. You had no sympathy for them, so seeing them die did not bother you. Not to mention, the taste of their flesh and blood was disgusting.

You don’t usually like the taste of blood and flesh in your mouth when you return to normal, but the taste of orc was so bad you could taste it through the beast’s control and sense its disgust. It was a groundbreaking surprise because wendigos are not supposed to be picky eaters. They ate anything, and now there was something they did not like. Oh, how the news would have caused a shock in your world.

“Hey, (Name)! Could you help me pick some items from the wagons?” Faye suddenly called out for you. “Uhh… yeah, sure!” you follow her through the campsite.

You walk together while listening to the ongoing purging of orcs, “It’s getting pretty wild, eh?” you motioned toward the hunt. “Yes. It seems after every dead orc. There’s always a new batch somewhere,” Faye replied as she watched with you. “It’s troublesome. In Valinor, we never had to worry about such a thing,” she mentions. “What was it like in Valinor?” you asked curiously.

“It was… peaceful. The streets were filled with music and laughing children, followed by their parents scolding and street vendors trying to compete for the highest profit,” Faye described with a fond look. “I remember my mother bringing me to an herbal shop, and my nose was filled with many exotic scents of herbs and plants. I believe that’s where I got my passion for herbs and healing,” she smiles as you listen. “And I remember taking a handful of citrus leaves and putting them in my mouth since I was a little elfling at the time, “ she says, making you giggle at the thought since it was the most childlike thing to do.

“Did they taste good?” you asked. “Oh, I believe my mouth was crying for a whole week for how sour and bitter those leaves were,” Faye chuckled as you laughed.

She sighs. “Those were peaceful times. There were no trifles, no orcs, and the two trees stood proudly, banishing the darkness with their light,” her expression soured. “Then Morgoth was freed, and he destroyed them, our only source of light,” she started. “He stole Feanor’s greatest creations, the silmarils, that could have restored the trees and killed our high king, Finwe, Prince Maglor’s grandfather,” she mentions. You looked at her empathically.

“It all happened so fast. I wasn’t even certain what was happening,” Faye said. “I was attending a feast with my family, then the lights went out, the darkness came, our king was dead, and then we were rebelling against the valar,” she said. “It was such chaos,”

“I’ll bet. I can’t imagine what it would be like if the sun suddenly went out,” you stated.

“How did you end up leaving too?” you asked.

“Me and my family desired to go along. We were part of Fingolfin’s host and crossed the ever-cold Helcaraxe. It was a devastating journey, and unfortunately, I was the only one in my family to make it through,” Faye explained with a silent sorrowful tone.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” you said.

“Don’t be… the choice was ours. I accepted my family’s death a long time ago and if the valars will grant them mercy. I might see them again at someday in Valinor,” she said.

“Well, I hope you do. You never know what fate might bring, and you might see them sooner than you thought,” you tried to assure her.

“That is very sweet of you (Name), but I’m afraid it's a lot more complicated than that,” she said as you reached the wagons. “Grab some of those towels while I take the medicine. Some of the warriors got injured and need a cleanup.” Faye instructed. “Got it, boss,” you replied and grabbed many of the towels you could carry.

You two then started returning to the healer’s tents, carrying the needed stuff.

The air suddenly became hotter, and everything became blindingly bright. Your head began to spin, so you stopped and escaped beneath a shade provided by a nearby tent.

Faye did not notice your sudden stop, so she continued walking while you tried to tolerate the effects of a near heatstroke.

Your head stung painfully. You were breathing heavily. You dropped the towels and took a long drink from one of the water flasks attached to your hip.

The cool liquid flowed down your throat, easing the headache, and the dizziness stopped. You drank half of the flask, then took a breather, trying to adjust to the heat that still found you beneath the shade.

You smacked your moistened lips and mentally whined at your state.

Winter was terrible enough, but thanks to the beast. You can’t enjoy spring or summer either. It was like if you were having a good time, you were going to have bad time. You whined and cursed it out.

“Fuck you beast and everything you stand for,”

“What did it do this time?” Maglor’s voice suddenly asked.

“Ah!” you shrieked as he stood next to you. Your sudden shriek even frightened him as he stared back at you with widened eyes. You stared at each other for a moment before you released a sigh.

“Goddammit! Maglor! Careful, I could have hit you with one of these,” you motioned the towels in your hand. “With towels?” he questioned with a curious brow. “Yeah. They can hurt pretty bad if you use them right,” you said with a teasing grin. A chuckle escaped him. “I see… I’ll make sure to watch out next time so I won’t accidentally end up getting killed by towels,” he remarked with an amused smile.

“Anyway. Do you need something?” you questioned. “Nothing that requires healing. I just wanted to check on you because you— look rather pale and sick. Are you feeling unwell?” Maglor asked with concern in his eyes. “Oh? Uuuhh…Everything is fine. I’m just dealing with a heat stroke here and then,” you answered.

“A heat stroke? Is it really that hot for you?” Maglor asked, surprised.

“Yeah— the curse makes me more vulnerable to the sun’s heat, so I can get a heat stroke easily. Even if it's not really that hot. It’s a real nuisance, but I have dealt with them before, so… I’ll manage,” you explained. “Well… if you’re that vulnerable to heat then maybe you should return to Himring, where it’s much cooler. I can arrange someone to escort you back,” he said, pointing over his shoulder. You mildly panic. “No need! If I just keep myself hydrated enough. I will be fine. Trust me. It is not that serious,” you motioned your water flasks while trying to sound as assuring as possible.

“Ah…” Maglor nodded his head. “Is that why you’re carrying so many flasks?” he pointed at the rest of the flasks attached to your hip. “I… have to drink a lot to stay hydrated,” you said, feeling somewhat embarrassed.

“Do you need help carrying some of those back? You still look like you’re about to pass out,” Maglor pointed at the towels.

“Well… I do still feel kinda dizzy, so If that’s not too much trouble,” you said, nearly hesitating. Maglor softly smiled at you. “Of course not. Now, come on. Let me help you,” he picked half of the towels in his arms and began walking you back.

“So… how does this curse affect you now that you haven’t had your proper medicine for a while?” Maglor asked while you walked. “Well… since I have a temporary one which I need to take every day. There isn’t much to worry about even though it’s not nearly as effective as my last one,” you started.

“So is the wen–”

“Ah! Don’t say it!” you stopped him before he said it. “It’s bad karma if you say it’s name! I’m free to do it since I am one, but if you say it– bad things will happen,” you quickly explained.

“You see… in my world: If you say the name of the beast. You will gain its attention,” you started. “That might sound superstitious, but it does happen. A wendigo is a beast that does not give up on its prey. Even when you might be safe and far away, it will find a way to get to you,” you added.

“I heard some stories and read cases about people who had unfortunately gained the beast’s attention. They managed to escape into cities where it would not follow them, but they suffered nightmares so bad that they went insane, and in some cases, the beast had compelled them to return to the forest, where it would wait for them and then devour them,” you explained.

“Only a ritual could draw off its attention from you, and I do not remember how the ritual goes, so don’t risk it and call the beast simply a beast or some other name,” you shook your head.

“I didn’t know that… thank you for the warning,” Maglor said. “Oh, not even the most powerful vampires of my world dare to fuck around with them,” you uttered, then released a sigh when the headache returned.

“Are you alright?” Maglor asked worriedly.

“Yeah… it’s just the headache. Looks like I need to take another drink,” you said as you took a drink from your flask.

“Are you certain you will be alright?” Maglor continued asking.

“I will be fine. Camilla is very sharp about my health,” you tried to sound reassuring as possible.

“I guess I can trust in her abilities to keep you in the best state possible,” Maglor said, making you smile. “However, I am curious. Have I done something to offend her?” he asked. “I… don’t think so. Why?” you asked curiously.

“She seems rather cold toward me, more than usual, like I’ve done something to cause severe mistrust,” he explained.

“Oh… that. I think it's only the stress of finding me the new medicine and managing work life,” you replied. “And she’s always been skeptical about people, especially those who know of my curse. She’s probably still unsure if you can be trusted keeping my secret and not turn on me and use it for blackmail or something,” you said, not missing a beat.

Maglor looked surprised. “I… will give you my word that I will not do such a thing,” he said with his hand against his chest. “Your killing spree in my former fortress lessened the threat of being overrun by Morgoth’s armies, which allowed us to survive through the Sudden Flames, so I technically owe it to you,”

“I’ll trust you,” you smiled. “It’s just Camilla who needs more convincing. It’s not her fault, though. Our lives in our world were not exactly easy either,” you said as you arrived at the healer’s tents.

“I think I can handle myself from here. Don’t want to keep you away from your lordly duties,” you grabbed the towels from his hands with a teasing grin. He chuckled at your last remark. “Honestly… I do prefer this than constantly worrying about killing orcs and everything,” he said then looked serious.

“If something happens or you feel much more sick. Come to me. I will sort things out for you,”

You hesitated about what to say. “Okay… thanks,” you said with a smile. Maglor smiled back and then walked away.

You stared for a moment, feeling rather lonely. You thought about what he said. He was so incredibly sweet to you. Your heart could nearly burst through your chest. Shaking your head, you turned away and went back to work before Camilla could snap at you for being late.

#tolkien #silmarillion x reader #middle earth x reader #silm fic #middle earth #maglor #silmarillion fanfiction #silmarillion #maglor x reader #maglor x human reader #cursed reader #modern reader #the spring heart's bloom

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smaidjor · 3 years ago

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i know they're losing (Chapter 1)

hi mothers and fuckers of the jury, this fic is a hot mess but so am I, please appreciate it. Also, obligatory disclaimer this is about the characters not the people, all that important stuff.

Some important notes:

1. You will probably hate Scott just a little at points. He has chronic dumb bitch syndrome and there's a whole lot of bullshit going on in his life that you don't see in this fic because it's not his pov. That being said, he's still a bit of a jerk.

2. This has a lot of lord of the rings lore. A LOT. You may be kinda confused if you're not a lord of the rings fan. It's fine, Jimmy's confused too, and all of it will be explained at some point.

3. The chapter titles are from the Last Goodbye from the Hobbit films. The general title is from I Bet on Losing Dogs by Mitski.

4. General content warnings: there is a little blood, and a little violence, and a lot of mentioned death and morbid jokes. If you don't do well with themes involving death this fic is probably not for you. There is also possibly going to be referenced emotional abuse and generally unhealthy ways to raise children, though that will be talked about much further down the line. I will also put specific cws at the start of each chapter, don't worry!

5. The alternate title for this was '10k words of flower husbands being sad'. You have been warned.

Title: i know they're losing

Chapter Title: under clouds, beneath the stars

Current Total Wordcount: 3740

Content Warning: referenced/past character death, very frank discussion of death.

Snippet:

Scott whirls to face him, robes spinning behind him. “I’m fading, alright? I’m dying, now leave me alone!”

Jimmy feels like he’s been smacked in the face, the words hitting him with all the force of a well-thrown trident. Dying? “You- what- but elves don’t die, right?”

“We do. From poison, from swords, from arrows through the throat-” Jimmy’s hands fly to the scar on his neck, the one that matches Scott’s own- “from grief.”

AO3 Link

Actual fic under the cut

Scott’s hands are cold. That’s the first sign, the chill that’s uncharacteristic of an elf.

Scott’s chest hurts. That’s the second sign, the bone-deep ache he can’t seem to quell.

Scott is weaker than normal, and that’s the third sign, the one that confirms what’s happening beyond a shadow of a doubt. He’s fading, Scott thinks as he leans against a wall, trying to stop his head from spinning. He can’t say he’s surprised, not after all he’s been through; in fact, he’s more astonished it took so long to start.

In another world, it happens like this:

Scott’s hands are cold, and Shubble notices as he shows her around the nether. It’s worrying, a bit, how icy his skin is even in the boiling dimension, but Scott’s empire has always been cold, hasn’t it?

Katherine notices how long it’s been since Scott visited her, one of his few allies, and she worries, a bit. But Scott has always been distant, hasn’t he?

No one notices or worries enough to go check on him, and Scott fades away to nothing, cold and alone in his icy empire.

What actually happens is this:

Katherine has gotten word of the demon that haunts the server, and amongst all her worry, one of her thoughts is ‘has anyone checked on Scott?’. The answer is no, and next time she has a free day, she sets out for Rivendell. It’s not a long trip, not with elytra, anyways, and soon she’s at the doors to his keep.

“I need to see Lord Smajor,” she tells the guards.

“He’s not taking visitors right now.” is the response she gets.

“It’s a vital matter to the safety of both our kingdoms.”

They let her in.

Katherine spends far too long looking around the elegantly decorated downstairs and storage area before she realizes he must be up the spiral staircase in the corner of the room. She’s never been upstairs in Scott’s house before, which makes her a little nervous, but… this is an urgent matter, so she presses on into what turns out to be a very pretty bedroom. Decorated with bookshelves aplenty and gorgeous lanterns, it practically screams Scott.

The man (elf?) himself is harder to spot. At first, Katherine’s worried he isn’t there at all, but eventually she realizes that he’s still in bed despite the fact that it’s a quarter to one, only his pale face sticking out from under the covers.

“Scott?” She asks, cautious. “Lord Smajor?”

He blinks at her tiredly. “Hi, Katherine.”

“I came to talk to you about some empires stuff, but, I mean, if this is a bad time, I can come back later…?”

“No, no, stay.” He waves at the sole chair in the room, which is near-enough to the bed. “I can muster the energy for a meeting, just don’t ask me to get up.”

Katherine takes the seat hesitantly. “I came to talk about the corruption on the server, but- are you okay? Are you sick?”

Scott laughs, a little bitter. “In a way, yes.”

“What do you mean?”

“Take my hand.”

She obeys, confused, and finds that Scott’s hands are like ice despite the warmth of the room.

“Elves don’t get sick like mortals do,” Scott says. “Nor do we die of old age. But we get...heartsickness, you might call it. We call it fading in our tongue- the cold hands are a symptom of that. Our souls are fragile, and the grief of the mortal plane can be overwhelming. If an elf is too struck by it, they fade away and die.”

She gasps a little.

“It usually happens to old elves, world-weary,” Scott continues. “Those who are tired of existence. But any elf who has experienced enough grief is at risk.”

It takes Katherine a moment to process everything, and once she does, she stares at him in horror. “You’re- fading? But doesn’t it usually happen to old elves? Wait, are you old?”

“I’m fifty-five.”

“Is that old?”

That gets a laugh out of him. “Fifty is the elven equivalent of eighteen for humans, the age of maturity.”

“Oh.” She struggles for words for a moment, settling on “How can you be so calm if you’re dying?”

“I’m tired, Katherine. The world tore me away from the people I loved, and..I’m tired of fighting it.”

Try as she might, there’s nothing she can say to that. “Is there a way to reverse fading- to fix it?”

Something pained and raw flashes through his eyes. “Technically, yes. If an elf recovers enough emotionally, it’s reversible. But whatever caused them to fade the first time can- and often does- cause it again.”

Katherine nods seriously, absorbing the information. “We’ll just have to reverse it, then.”

“That’s sweet, Katherine, but I’m dying.”

“No,” she tells him firmly. “You’re not going to die. Now come on, you can show me your empire while I fill you in on what’s happening on the rest of the continent.”

Scott stares at her for a long moment, but eventually he takes her outstretched hand. “Alright.” His hand is frozen cold in hers. “We can try.”

Katherine lets him lead her around Rivendell, pointing out the sights. He’s done an impressive job decorating, like her, and an even more impressive job at uniting the elves and building an empire from the ground up. The people of Rivendell are weary and battle-scarred, for the most part, elves who have seen too much, but the children are bright and happy, and the cyan and gold banners wave proudly in the wind.

As they walk, she also tells Scott about the demon, Xornoth. “The demon’s already visited a lot of people, I think. Gem and Shubble for sure, and Fwhip and Sausage. That’s not even mentioning the corruption that’s been spreading.”

Scott nods. “There’s corruption in Rivendell too. Likely Xornoth’s work. And given that Jimmy still has Vilya- well, I haven’t been able to do much.”

“Vilya?”

“A ring of power. My inheritance from the Noldor.”

“Why does Jimmy have it?”

He doesn’t answer that one.

Katherine leaves feeling unsettled, with more questions than answers. She has new resolve, though, and a new goal: keep Scott from fading. He’s a good friend, though they don’t know each other that well yet, but more than that, he’s a powerful ally. And Katherine can’t afford to lose allies. So while they’re both rulers and busy in their own right, she promises to visit and drag him outside at least once a week.

“I’ll hold you to that,” Scott jokes, but his laugh is weak.

Katherine vows to hold herself to it.

The plan works for three entire weeks before Katherine has a week that’s so busy there’s no way she can find the time for a trip to Rivendell. Worse than that, because Scott is so isolated, he has almost no other friends, and many of Katherine’s allies are busy too. She’s a little short of options, to be honest, which is how she finds herself on Jimmy Solidarity’s doorstep that Sunday afternoon.

“Hello?” Jimmy asks as the door swings open. Katherine can see why Lizzie calls him the sweet swamp boy- his confused head tilt is frankly adorable.

“Hi! I know we don’t talk much, but I could use a favor,” she says.

“What can I do for you?”

“I need you to visit Scott.”

Jimmy looks beyond startled. “What- I mean, he doesn’t even like me! I couldn’t possibly.”

“Please?” She wheedles. “I promised him a visitor every week, but I have meetings all week this time.”

He shakes his head, hesitantly at first and then stronger. “No, Katherine. He’d just throw me right out again. I’m his enemy, for goodness sake!”

“If he hates you so much, why do you have his ring?”

Katherine knows she’s won, watching emotions flit across his face too quickly to catch. Grief is what he settles on, and she feels a little bit bad for the ring comment when his voice comes out wobbly.

“I guess I should return that, huh? Alright, I’ll go.”

“Sorry,” she says.

Jimmy brushes it off, saying there’s no need to worry, but he fiddles with the ring on his finger all the more. It’s on his left ring finger, Katherine notes. She wonders if that truly means what it implies.

“I’ll visit him tomorrow,” Jimmy says.

“I’ll hold you to that!”

Jimmy isn’t sure why he agreed to this at all, to be honest. Scott may have given him this ring in another world, another lifetime, but that doesn’t mean Scott doesn’t hate him in this one. What other explanation is there for how all his gifts have been rejected, how cold the elf is? Jimmy would be surprised that Scott’s never tried to take his ring back if it wasn’t for how thoroughly Scott avoids him nowadays. Getting the ring back would require talking to Jimmy, something Scott has made it very clear that he doesn’t want to do. Jimmy doesn’t have another use for it, and try as he might to forget flower fields and warm hands in his, he can’t bear to throw it away. So it’s remained on his hand all this time, a painful reminder of someone who used to love him.

Jimmy tries to avoid looking at it as much as possible, every glimpse bringing back the memory of Scott gently sliding it onto his hand, a faint blush dusting his cheeks and a smile on his lips. Even the faint shimmers in the blue gem remind him of how the starlight seemed to get caught in Scott’s hair when they were out at night. The ring had been one of their most valuable possessions on 3rd Life, the rare silver band and elegant forging more than proof of that. Now, though, the ring has to be one of the least valuable things Jimmy owns; on 3rd Life, they were humble folk in little hobbit holes, their most expensive possessions being their diamond armor and swords, but here, they’re kings and lords. Scott probably has a thousand treasures more valuable in his elven empire, so Jimmy’s not sure why he’s bothering to trek all the way across the world just to return this one.

Then again, it’s not really about the ring, and never has been. It’s about the way starlight used to shine in Scott’s eyes when he smiled, his rare, soft grin that was reserved just for Jimmy, how he gave Jimmy the most valuable thing either of them owned. It’s closure, in a way, giving it back. He won’t have any debt to Scott once this ring is returned, and they can both move on like Scott so clearly wants to.

Shaking off those thoughts, Jimmy slows to a stop in front of Scott’s house. It’s grand, nothing like his old hobbit hole, but still so clearly Scott in the decoration and color schemes. Jimmy would know who built it even if he hadn’t known Scott lived in these mountains.

“I’m here to visit Scott,” he says to the guard stationed outside.

They raise an eyebrow, presumably at the familiar way he refers to Scott. “On formal business or personal?”

“Personal? Sort of? I mean, I don’t have any diplomatic reason for being here.” Truth be told, he has no reason to be here at all, really, but...the ring.

“Then Lord Smajor cannot see you.”

Jimmy grits his teeth, suddenly furious at this whole ordeal. “Then tell Lord Smajor that I need to return his ring.”

“May I see it?”

He sticks his hand out obligingly, and the guard examines the ring, surprise blooming across their face. “I did not realize my Lord had lent you Vilya! My apologies, Lord Codfather, I see the alliance between our kingdoms is stronger than I had assumed. You may pass.”

Vilya? “Thank you, gentle, uh, gentleperson!”

The guard dips their head slightly as he walks by, a gesture of respect that he doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to. He shakes off the strangeness of the interaction, though, pushing open the door to Scott’s house.

The inside is beautiful, exactly the kind of decor Scott loves...and empty. There’s no one in the spacious kitchen, the storage room, or anywhere else for that matter. Jimmy’s seconds from giving up and going home when he realizes that there are stairs up to the balcony above. That’s where he goes, finding himself in Scott’s bedroom.

Which is awkward, to say the least. It’s not like they never slept in the same room when they were married, but now that there’s this awkward, painful distance between them, Jimmy feels like he’s intruding. What’s worse is, Scott’s still in bed, laying on his side with his face tilted away from Jimmy’s awkward entrance.

“Hello, Jimmy.”

Jimmy half-jumps, not expecting that. “How’d you know it was me?”

Scott rolls over to face him, and Jimmy notes that his face is too pale for it to be natural or healthy. “Do you think I could ever forget the sound of your footsteps?” He goes on before Jimmy can answer. “What are you doing here?”

“Katherine asked me to visit, I’m not sure why, but...here I am. Say, why is she visiting every week?”

Scott’s laugh is bitter. “Katherine thinks she can save me.”

“Save you from what?” Jimmy asks, concerned despite himself.

His (ex?)husband doesn’t reply.

“Save you from what?” Jimmy presses, and gets no answer yet again.

Instead, Scott sits up, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. “You should go.” He stands, and immediately stumbles, Jimmy rushing to steady him on instinct. Scott’s hands are like ice when he grips Jimmy’s arm to regain his balance, taking several deep breaths, and Jimmy’s instantly struck by how wrong that feels. Scott’s hands were always warm, even on the coldest nights in 3rd life. Some elven thing, probably, that Scott didn’t want to talk about or have time to explain to a silly human like Jimmy.

“Scott, what is going on?”

The elf brushes him off again, heading for the stairs, but the regal effect is ruined by how hard he has to grip the railing.

“Scott, seriously! Answer me, are you okay? What’s happening?”

Scott whirls to face him, robes spinning behind him. “I’m fading, alright? I’m dying, now leave me alone!”

Jimmy feels like he’s been smacked in the face, the words hitting him with all the force of a well-thrown trident. Dying? “You- what- but elves don’t die, right?”

“We do. From poison, from swords, from arrows through the throat-” Jimmy’s hands fly to the scar on his neck, the one that matches Scott’s own- “from grief.” Scott turns back to the stairs. “Come on. If you’re not going to leave, I might as well show you around.”

Jimmy follows, reluctantly, trying to think of something to say that isn’t incoherent sputtering with a bit of ‘why do you hate me now’ added in. “You can’t just drop something like that on a man, you know!”

“You did ask, to be fair.”

Why oh why is he so stupid around Scott? “I guess so, but- but still, dude.”

Scott pushes open the side door, holding it for Jimmy. “Here.”

Jimmy nods and slips through the door. “Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.”

They start along the path, Scott walking far too quickly for Jimmy’s comfort given how terrible the elf’s balance is currently. He nearly has to jog to keep up, irritatingly, but at least they aren’t snapping at each other for a few precious moments.

Of course, Jimmy has to go and ruin that. “So, uh..are we going to talk about 3rd life?” He has to hear it from Scott’s own lips that he remembers, that it affected him even half as much as it’s affected Jimmy.

“No.”

“Why not? We need to talk about it some time-”

“I said no .”

“It’s literally killing you to not talk about it!”

Scott freezes, face going icy calm in the way Jimmy knows means he’s actually upset. The elf’s hands grip the fabric of his robes tight, his back going rigid. This is a bad idea, Jimmy knows.

He’s in too deep to back out now, though, the pent-up hurt of the past few months all coming out in a rush. “Tell me I’m wrong, Scott! I dare you, tell me I’m wrong! Tell me you never cared about me, tell me you didn’t bother to bury me, tell me it didn’t hurt even a little when I died! Tell me I was just stupid little Jimmy, a toy for an elf who’d live far beyond my lifespan! Tell me whatever, just tell me the truth! ”

Scott breathes out slowly, fury gradually building on his face. “Fine. You want to know what happened after you died? You want to hear about me screaming until my throat went raw? You want to know that I kissed your face and sobbed and begged you to wake up, over and over until I couldn’t speak at all? You want to live with the knowledge that Grian had to physically pull me away from your body? Is that what you want to hear, Jimmy ?”

Jimmy’s name on Scott’s lips punches all the remaining air out of him, sounding so wrong in that angry, bitter tone. Beneath all the rage, Scott sounds wrecked , and the fight leaves Jimmy’s body abruptly. “No,” he says softly. “That’s not what I want to hear, not at all. I’d rather you be happy than love me.”

Silence follows those words, only the faint sound of a waterfall in the distance there to break it.

“I buried you on the hill above our houses,” Scott says finally. “I planted a poppy over your grave.”

“Oh.”

“Grian came over the next day. I didn’t want to see anyone who wasn’t you, but I let him in because I had to. He helped me do the straps on my armor and asked me if he could do anything else to make things easier. I told him to bury me next to you.”

Jimmy swallows hard. “Did he?”

“How would I know?” Scott’s tone softens, just a little. “Grian was honorable enough, though, loyal to his allies. I like to think he did.”

“He was a good guy,” Jimmy agrees. “A little bit bloodthirsty, I guess, but good. I don’t suppose he survived any better than the rest of us, though maybe being bloodthirsty helped.”

“Maybe.”

“Can I- can I ask you why you hate me so much now? I mean, if you mourned me in third life and all.”

Scott turns away again, starting down the path a second time. He’s not looking at Jimmy when he says “I don’t hate you.”

“You don’t?” It’s a shock, honestly, given that this is the first time the two of them have really spoken since the beginning of empires. “But you burned the pufferfish-”

“I didn’t. I kept it.” Scott still won’t look at him. “I never hated you. I don’t think I’m capable of it.”

“Then why do you keep avoiding me?”

“I’ve been kind of busy dying,” Scott says dryly, and Jimmy doesn’t even realize it’s a joke until he looks over at Scott’s wry little grin.

“Scott! That’s not funny!” He scolds, aghast.

“It was a little funny.”

“No!”

Scott must hear the genuine distress in Jimmy’s voice because he drops the act. “Jimmy, I’m an elf. I won’t live far beyond you, but only because I’ll fade without you.”

“So your solution is to isolate yourself and fade now?” Jimmy demands.

“It does sound stupid when you put it like that, doesn’t it? But I lost you once, and I don’t think I could bear it again.”

Jimmy wants to argue, wants to fight him on this, but there’s nothing he can say. Instead, he puts a hand on Scott’s arm to stop him walking any further. Scott turns to look at him, seemingly startled, and Jimmy throws his arms around the elf.

Scott stiffens before slowly relaxing, arms coming up to wrap around Jimmy in return. It’s not as natural a gesture as it used to be, but it’s warm, gentle in a way Jimmy thought he’d never get again. It reminds him of the soft, starry-eyed boy who put flowers in his hair and laughed at him over a cake. Scott will never be that soft again and Jimmy will never be unscarred, but they’re here. They’re alive, that has to count for something.

Scott pulls back, his expression so achingly tender and heartbroken all at once. “I’m sorry, Jimmy.” His voice is raw, a little shaky. “I can’t. Not again.”

“But-”

He’s cut off by Scott shaking his head. “Losing you will destroy me. We dared to love, and now all we can do now is lessen the pain when it all comes crashing down.”

Jimmy’s in too much shock to speak, the ache in his heart returning tenfold as Scott turns back towards the house.

“Goodbye, Jimmy.” He sweeps away, elegant as ever, but stumbles and nearly falls as he reaches the door. Jimmy’s not there to catch him.

Jimmy stumbles home in a daze. It's somewhat of a miracle that no mob manages to kill him, honestly. To be so close to a resolution, to have the person he wanted most right there in his arms, and then to have all that ripped away- he can’t think of anything that could have hurt more. Even his deaths were less painful than this- at least an arrow through the throat is quicker than feeling like your heart is being ripped out through your ribs, Jimmy thinks, a little bitter. He throws Scott’s stupid ring in a pool in the swamp, watching as it sinks to the bottom of the shallow water with hardly a bubble.

Wait.

The ring.

It’s significant, somehow, according to a Rivendell guard, and more than that, it’s an excuse to see Scott again. One last chance to change his mind about the stupid plan that’s literally killing him.

Jimmy dives in without thinking, scrabbling around until his fingers close around the smooth stone and thin band. When he pulls it out, the gem glitters in the starlight even under the layers of dirt, and it looks like something special. It looks like hope.

#scott smajor #jimmy solidarity #flower husbands #uhh #empires smp #i wont tag 3rd life since its only referenced #my writing

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jaskierswolf · 4 years ago

Text

The White Wolf (pt. 1/3)

Ship: Geraskier - Established. Rating: T Word Count: 6k in total (this chapter is 2k)

Summary: Following an unfortunate encounter with a mage, Geralt gets cursed into a wolf. Jaskier and Geralt must travel the Continent in search of someone that can help them. (AO3)

Warnings: Canon-typical violence, mentions of blood, nudity (Jaskier’s clothes don’t change with him).

Part 7: Shifter!Jaskier Verse (Tumblr) - Can be read as a stand alone.

_________

The cloud of sparkling dust settled on the floor and Geralt was nowhere to be seen. The last Jaskier had seen of his boyfriend, he’d been thrown against the wall, barely able to move his fingers to form Quen in time before his head knocked against the stone. There was no witcher in the room now. Just a pile of bloodstained white fur in the corner of the room.

Jaskier snarled and sniffed the air. He could smell Geralt but something was wrong. Geralt reeked of wet dog. Jaskier growled, low and menacing, at the sorcerer in front of them. The man had been luring children away from their homes in the dead of night using all sorts of sweet treats. Then at night he was pulling their dreams from their minds and using them for fuck knows what. The children were returning to their homes as lifeless ghosts of their former selves, and thus a witcher and his trusted companion had been hired.

“I’m no fool, bard.” The sorcerer spat. “I can sense your magic.

Jaskier let his sharp teeth show as he snarled again. He let his magic loose and there was a sickening crunch of bones. Jaskier’s thick russet fur melted away into long red feathers. He spread his wings as a thick black mane grew along he neck. He roared at the sorcerer and struck both talons across his chest, balancing on the large lion paws of his hind legs. The sorcerer was thrown backwards as dark blood seeped through his clothing. The attack had caught him off guard. Jaskier stalked forward, his front talons clacking on the wooden floor. This human had stolen Jaskier’s mate and they had to pay.

The scent of blood was thick in the air and all he knew was the hunt.

The prey was wounded. It was an easy kill.

He screeched as he prepared to land the final blow but a large snowy white wolf with glowing amber eyes suddenly stood between him and the prey.

Amber eyes.

Jaskier knew those eyes.

Geralt.

He let his magic loose and shifted back into a wolf. There was just something about Geralt being in wolf form that ignited all his pack instincts. He didn’t know whether Geralt was stuck as a wolf or could shift between animals, but Jaskier knew he would match Geralt no matter what.

The thought gave him pause. He wondered whether it was an instinct of his people, lost and long forgotten. Were there ever groups of shifters? Were they still alive? Or was he alone… He’d always felt so alone. Jaskier nudged his head under Geralt’s snout and whined. Geralt huffed and butted Jaskier’s head. Jaskier did his best wolfy grin and then mouthed at Geralt’s nose before rolling over onto his back with a wag of his tail.

Geralt gave a quick bark and then looked pointedly between Jaskier and mage. Jaskier tilted his head, wondering how Geralt still managed to look unimpressed even as a wolf. Jaskier snorted and rolled back onto his paws. He glanced around the room, his clothes were still at the inn. Geralt’s clothes appeared to have disappeared when he was changed into a wolf; lucky bastard. He spotted a long cloak hanging up on the wall and wagged his tail. He leapt up on his hind legs and pulled at the cloak with his teeth. When he was covered nicely by the heavy material he shifted back into his human form with a crack of his bones.

The cloak was thick, grey and woollen. It had a large hood, reminiscent of the cloaks the elves used. He wrapped it round his shoulders and then grinned at Geralt.

“Hello, dearest. I know you’re the White Wolf and all, but isn’t this taking it a bit too far?” He reached out with his hand and Geralt bumped it with his snout. He gave Geralt a quick scratch behind the ears. “Can you shift?”

Geralt tilted his head.

Jaskier frowned and stuck his tongue out as he tried to figure out a way to explain it. It was like trying to explain how to blink or breathe or… just exist. “Umm, ah, think of Roach? Try and feel her hooves, her mane?”

Geralt’s snout scrunch up and he let out a snarl.

“No?”

Geralt shook his head, one ear twitched and Jaskier couldn’t help but coo. Geralt growled at that.

“I’m sorry!” He said, not really sorry at all. “But, my love, you look so cute!”

Another growl.

“Oh stop it. You’re trying to be all scary witcher and it’s not working. You are adorable and I can turn into a dragon so shush.” He bopped Geralt on the nose and gave him another scratch behind the ears. Geralt’s tail began to wag. Geralt looked behind him and snarled, clearly not enjoying the way his body was betraying his feelings. He also looked as if he was about to start chasing his tail. He was baring his teeth, snarling as the tail flicked on the stone floor. Jaskier took pity on him and knelt down so he could cup his wolf’s face in his hands. “Geralt, darling?”

Geralt blinked and looked up at him.

“There you go. The instincts might feel a bit strong at first but we’ll work it out alright?” Jaskier buried in face in Geralt’s fur, his own instincts to shift back into a wolf were almost overwhelming him, but Geralt needed him human. It was easier to explain things to his newly wolf companion when he could use words. It was also nice to be able to snuggle in Geralt’s fur for a change. “Do you know how to fix this?”

Geralt shook his head.

“I shouldn’t have killed the mage, should I?” Jaskier asked with a sigh.

Another head shake and a whine.

Jaskier kissed Geralt’s head. “In my defence, witcher. I thought he’d killed you!” Geralt licked his face and he grimaced. “Geralt! Oh gods, that went up my nose!”

Geralt wagged his tail and pounced. Jaskier was knocked back onto the ground and Geralt’s tongue was drooling all over his face, which would have been fine if Geralt’s tongue didn’t feel so coarse against his skin. “Oi, no! Get off you big lump!”

Geralt nipped at his ear and sat back down, his tail thumped noisily against the stone floor.

Jaskier sighed and grabbed Geralt’s swords from where they’d clattered on the floor. Jaskier hummed. Geralt’s clothes and medallion had changed with him but his swords had not. At least his magic was consistent. Geralt head-butted his leg and they finally fled the tower together. It felt strange being the one on two feet instead of four but they’d faced worse things in their two years travelling together.

Two years…

Had it really been so long? He’d been with Geralt for two whole years… not mentioning the little blip of his mother’s horrendous return into his life. He shuddered at the memory. Yeah, they’d definitely been through worse together. ___________

As they approached the town Geralt snorted and laid down on the ground, resting his head on his big white paws. Jaskier glanced over his shoulder at the wolf with a scowl before he realised why Geralt had stopped. He grinned and walked back to pet Geralt’s head. Geralt’s tail thumped heavily against the ground as Jaskier gave him a scratch behind the ear. Geralt still looked put out by his tail’s reaction to affection but now seemed resigned to the fact he could no longer mask his happier feelings.

“Well isn’t this a turn of events. I’m normally the one that has to wait outside!” Jaskier announced with a laugh.

Geralt let out a low growl and mouthed at Jaskier’s fingers.

“Ouch! Sharp teeth, Geralt. You’re not exactly a pup, dear heart,” Jaskier chided.

Geralt’s ears flicked and Jaskier was pretty sure the strange snuffling noise was Geralt trying to laugh at him.

“Stay here. I’ll go and get our stuff,” he sighed and looked down at himself. The cloak wasn’t exactly modest and whilst he had very little shame over his body, most humans wouldn’t appreciate him walking around town with his dick out. “Next time we are keeping my clothes in a pack and not back at the inn.”

Geralt barked and his tongue hung out of his mouth as he wagged his tail.

“Yeah yeah, go on, laugh at your poor suffering boyfriend.”

Geralt barked again and jumped up to lick Jaskier’s face, placing both paws on Jaskier’s shoulders. Jaskier just ruffled Geralt’s fur and kissed his snout.

“I’ll be back soon, love.”

He wrapped the cloak around him in a feeble attempt to cover himself up and trudged back to the inn. He did get some bizarre looks from the villagers but he did his best to ignore them. Had they never seen a bard wearing just a cloak and witcher’s swords before? He scoffed. They were amateurs. He tried to sneak up to their room at the inn but the bloody innkeeper spotted him.

“Oi, where do you think you’re going?”

Jaskier spun around, only just remembering to keep his hands gripped on the cloak to stop it from flying open. He still had Geralt’s swords in their holder in his hand and he held them up for the innkeeper to see. “I’m a friend of the witcher’s. Jaskier? The bard? You might have heard of me?”

“Toss a Coin?” The innkeeper asked and Jaskier let out a sigh of relief.

“Ah, yes. That’s the one,” He sang a couple of lines just to prove his point. “And umm, well. Geralt… Geralt was looking after my lute for me whilst I was… away?”

“Away?”

“Yeah,” Jaskier winced. It was a terrible story and he was ashamed. “But you see, I really need to get it back.”

“Did the witcher take your clothes too?” The innkeeper asked with a smirk, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

Jaskier felt his cheeks heat up and it took all his control not to shift back into a mouse. He laughed nervously and tugged the cloak tighter around his chest. “Well, funny you should say that.”

“Those his swords?”

“Yes! Yes they are. I ran into him on the path just outside of town. He’s dealt with your mage problem, but ah. Umm. Spells! He was hit by a spell and it’s really not very pretty so he asked me to collect our… his.. belongings. So I’m just…” He pointed to the stairs and the innkeeper waved his hand. “Thank you ever so much, kind sir. May all the gods praise you!”

“Just go, bard.”

Jaskier gave a quick bow and then flew up the stairs, two steps at at time. Once inside the room he got dressed and quickly gathered up their belongings before heading back out to fetch Roach. The conversation with the stable girl went just as well as the one with the innkeeper and Jaskier barely remembered the story he’d woven only a few minutes before, but he was gone and heading back towards the forest before anyone else could question him.

He didn’t ride Roach but it was easier with her carrying the bags and his lute. Once he was out of sight from the townsfolk he considered shifting back into a wolf. Whatever the mage had hit Geralt with was driving him crazy, but they still needed to find a solution to Geralt’s wolf problem so regretfully he remained on two feet. He huffed and dragged his feet as they headed back to where he’d left Geralt. How did people cope with being in one form all the time? It was so boring!

___________

#the witcher #the witcher fanfiction #shapeshifter!jaskier #shifter!jaskier #wolf geralt #cursed geralt #geraskier #geraskier fanfiction #wolfie's witcher writing #let me know if you want to be tagged

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moonyblackwerewolf · 4 years ago

Text

Betrothed Ch. 4 - Sirius Black

Betrothed Ch. 4

Sirius Black x fem!Reader

Word count: 4.7k

Summary: Sirius and Y/N meet at a family dinner and have some fun, later she finds out she is betrothed to some pureblood boy so Sirius comes up with a mental idea to save them both.

Warnings: Kissing, hints of sex, aggressive parents, underage drinking, idk my writing and English? lol

a/n: Oh my god this is so long! I hope you guys like it, i think there is only 2 chapters left, idk yet. Anyway Feedback is always welcome, thank you guys :)

Xxxx

Ch.1 Ch.2 Ch. 2.5 Ch.3 Ch.4 Ch. 5

When Y/n got home, she had time before going to the Malfoys, so she was planning on how to gently tell her parents she didn’t want to go and that she wasn’t going to accept their marriage proposal too. She spend days thinking and decided it was time, because her mom was already telling her to get prepared to go, so she sent a letter to Sirius as promised telling him she would talk to her parents on that day.

Later the family sat down in a living room and waited for Y/n to say what she wanted to.

“So? What do you want to tell us, your father and I are busy” her mother said impatiently, not knowing the bomb her daughter would throw at her.

Y/n took a deep breath and said “I don’t want to marry Malfoy, I’m not accepting his proposal.” As simple as that single phrase sounded like, it cost her so much more. Her parents were outraged to say the very least, how could she misbehave after all those year of being so obedient.

“What do you mean you won’t? Yes you will, the Malfoys are getting their answers next week” Her mother screamed.

To say her parent were furious was an understatement. She was disrespecting not only their choice of husband, but also their ancient family traditions. But in reality that’s exactly what she felt like, those traditions were ancient and full of nonsense, it is completely wrong to promise a girl to some narcissist, conservative, arrogant, aggressive prick and make her spend the rest of her life with him, loosing all of her liberty.

“Are you calling Lucius a prick? He is a member of one respectable family Y/n!” Her father grunted, grabbing his wand.

“Why? Because they’re pureblood?” Y/n yelled, since she was already fighting their principles she might as well do it right. “That’s nonsense why would a blood status change a person? It doesn't change anything, I know many muggle borns who are ten times better people than you are, you think you can judge everyone, just because you’re pure? Or rich? Or call yourself royal? Which is absurd by the way, you and I know there isn’t royalty in our world, you only say that because you want to be better than everyone else, so you lie and you’re powerful enough for people to believe you” she roared, it felt incredible to take some of her frustrations out of her chest for once in her life, she didn’t have to pretend to be a well behaved purist, like she was before.

Mr. Watson wouldn’t believe his daughter, he didn’t want to, so he kept blinding himself from the ugly truth that he was indeed wrong. “I won’t tolerate you disrespecting our tradition Y/n” with a wave from his hands Charles hit Y/n with the Cruciatus curse, taking her to the ground almost immediately.

“Dad! Stop- you’re hurting me, please! You’re hurting me” She cried and begged and squirmed, it felt agonising the pain touched each and every part of her body, the tears ran freely down her face, after being hit a certain amount of times she just felt numb to the pain, she stayed still wrapping her knees with all the strength she had left.

“You are going to marry Lucius Malfoy and you are going to accept his proposal in person when you go to his house, because you’re still going and I don’t want to hear a single complain or any of these ideas you cultivated in your mind, you are going to bring us respect” With no remorse her father left her there small, hugging her legs and crying alone, earning only a polite nod from her mother followed by a ‘I warned you’ look.

The rest of her time at home went by so slow she thought a whole month had passed, she was now feeling so bad being in her own house that she almost wanted to go to the Malfoys. Her parents weren’t even letting her see the mail, which meant she wasn’t receiving Sirius’ letters. Her sister wouldn’t talk with her anymore, scared of having the same fate as Y/n and her brother didn’t even know what was happening with his little sister.

The day she was going to the Malfoy manor had arrived. Her parents dropped her there in that shark tank like it meant nothing, they didn’t even bother saying good bye, she had come a long way from being the perfect daughter, who was always respectful with her parents and their ideals. Being at the Malfoys felt like being in Azkaban, but it was still better than being at home at least, there she was treated with extreme respect by Abraxas Malfoy and his wife, they were doing it out of interest of course but it was better than nothing, her only problem was Lucius, she hated him and hated even more that she’d need to sleep in his bed with him and even more that she’d have to accept his proposal by the end of the week. She felt stuck.

After having dinner Mrs. Malfoy showed you to Lucius’ room, while the house elf carried Y/n’s trunk next to the bed. The room was nice and big but it was cold and dark, she felt bad in there, fear creeping into her chest as her whole body felt numb, she just wished she could be in Sirius’ bed in the dormitories, she didn’t know why but there, by Sirius’ side was the most perfect place to be, she felt warm and safe.

“That’s it sweetheart, goodnight” after showing the room, with a final goodbye Mrs. Malfoy let her there alone, with Lucius. He was handsome, sharp jaw, strong upper body, beautiful face, she couldn’t deny it but it felt so wrong, it was sickening, she didn’t love him, she couldn’t, he was a terrible person.

“Look Y/n/n, I have to say, back in Hogwarts I was a bit jealous from you and Sirius, but now, being here with you, feels so right” he said as he was inching closer to her “Come on, let’s go to bed” his fingers were brushing her waist, the single phrase and action made her feel sick, his touch was ice cold, but what choice did she have. Y/n knew the punishment she’d have to face if she didn’t behave

“Ok” she replied, mouth dry “I’ll go change, in the bathroom”. She opened her trunk and looked for comfortable pyjamas, but to her surprise there were only vulgar sleeping clothes and lingeries, she felt a cold in her spine that made her sicker, her mother had it all planned out, crazy she thought, her mother is crazy. The last straw was when she saw a note from her mom.

Bought you some new clothes for you to share with Lucius.

Love,

Mom

She wondered what would It feel like to have a real caring mother, not one that just clearly wants her to have sex so she can have grandchildren. But she was born on a deranged family. She had no choice, so she just chose the pieces that were most discreet and even those weren't even a bit discreet, it was a black lace bra that at least covered her breasts perfectly and went a bit down and matching panties, if there was something she was sure of, it was that she didn’t want to see Lucius’ face when he saw her.

But again, she had no choice, when she entered the room again Lucius gaze fell directly on her chest. “My eyes are up here you know right?” She asked with a bored voice, while lying down in bed, much to her dismay.

“Feisty” he chuckled lying in bed besides her “I’ve always liked you Watson” Lucius was being a tease but she could see it in his eyes that he was drooling over her. She hated it. So she turned over and closed her eyes, wanting desperately to sleep for the whole time she’d be stuck there “Good night for you too, love” the nickname Sirius used to call her seemed so cold now, sounded fake coming form Lucius’ mouth. That night her thoughts kept going back to Sirius, she wondered if he was trying to talk to her, trying to reach her somehow but being unsuccessful thanks to her cruel parents. She missed him, his touch, his affections and she missed Lily, if she was here they’d talk the whole night and then maybe it wouldn’t fell so lonely, she missed reading with Remus, joking and pranking people with James and how protective he was and Peter’s cute but sarcastic comments, she missed her true family.

The next few days sucked, Y/n was running out of the less vulgar clothes, Lucius was always trying to kiss her and get close to her and the Malfoys’ forced kindness was beginning to annoy her, on top of that she didn’t feel like home in this house, she didn’t feel comfortable to do anything, basically she was counting the days until she could go back to Hogwarts.

��—————————

Sirius knew something was wrong when Y/n didn’t answer any of his letters, assuming that she’d now probably be at the Malfoys, he needed to talked to her. The thought of Malfoy touching her and the things he could do made his blood boil, she was his friend after all. But things at his home weren’t good, his parents were breathing down his neck so he need to find a way to escape, so, of course he asked James for help.

James and Sirius had come up with a plan, but it was certainly dangerous and potentially problematic, just like everything they did. The plan was: Sirius would sneak away from his house, once he managed to do so he would meet with James in his house and the both boys would go pay the Malfoys a visit, once inside Sirius would need to distract the Malfoys since their families are friends while James helped Y/n run away to his house. It wasn’t quite a brilliant plan, they didn’t have much time to think, but Sirius needed to be sure she was safe.

Now Sirius thought he would have great difficulty running away, he waited for everyone to fall asleep to leave his bedroom, managed to avoid the elves, went to the broom closet, grabbed a broomstick, everything was doing great, except for one thing. Sirius’ brother Regulus thought he had herd something and went downstairs, only to find he’s rebellious younger brother trying to run away.

“What do you think you’re doing this time of night Sirius?” Regulus asked not even a bit surprised by his brother’s actions.

Shit, Sirius thought, he had two options lie or tell the truth. He chose the boldest one “Reg, don’t tell our parents” he looked helpless for the first time in his life, Regulus was quite startled “I need to save my friend, she’s in danger. I know we’re not in the best terms but, do this one favour for me-” he paused “I really care about this girl, she’s the Watson’s daughter, you know her”

“What? The Watson’s… you mean Y/n? What happed Sirius? She’s my friend too, is she okay?” He was going to tell his parents before but now he was curious and worried, he liked Y/n, she was nice to him on eventual encounters in their common room or classes.

“She’s- she’s being held captive at the Malfoys” it wasn’t a lie.

“Held captive? And what about her parents? her dad is the Minister of Magic Law Enforcement, what is it you can do that he can’t and on top of that why are the Malfoys supposedly holding her captive?” Regulus was being particularly annoying, he was suspicious of Sirius’ intentions.

“Her parents gave her away, they want her to marry Lucius, but she doesn’t. And i’m willing to ask for her hand if she accepts me, but she wanted to confront her parents, which clearly went terribly wrong” Sirius tried to defend his theses but he didn’t know if Regulus would be willing to let him go or he’d say that she has to marry who her parents want.

“You’re being absurd Sirius, it can’t possibly be that bad, it’s a marriage, considering our families, it’d happen sooner or later. You can’t stop it, if the Malfoys tell our parents they’ll kill you” Regulus was irritated at first, she was only doing what she was supposed to.

“I’m going either way” Sirius wasn’t letting his brother get in the way.

“Ok.” Sirius would be lying if he said he’s jaw hadn’t dropped to the floor. Actually Regulus was quite shocked too, hearing he’s brother say he was willing to marry a girl and a girl that their parents would approve was indeed shocking and he liked Y/n, the thought of her suffering made him less strict with his brother for once.

“W-well- hum ok then” Sirius left as quickly as he could, afraid this was only an hallucination.

James was waiting for Sirius with his bedroom’s window open. When he entered they both went to bed and talked until they fell asleep, the next day would be eventful. Assuming they woke up right before lunch, the boys hurriedly set everything necessary for the plan, muttered apologies to James’ parents and went to pay a visit to Lucius Malfoy. The weather outside was cold, but the sun was shining, making the travel rather beautiful, but the boys didn’t even notice, they were too worried, James couldn’t stop thinking about how Malfoy was treating his best friend, he hated him so much, Sirius had another motives, he hadn’t realised yet and it may take a little push, but he was jealous.

Arriving at that creepy mansion James and Sirius separated, James sneaked in quietly looking for Y/n’s belongings, while Sirius knocked on the door. The house elf asked him to come in and called his master. Mrs. Malfoy was quite surprised but tolerant.

“Good Morning, may i ask your name?” She asked politely

“Oh i’m Sirius Black, Walburga’s son”

“Oh! Sirius what a pleasant surprise, is Walburga going to visit us today?”

“No madam” he paused, grabbing a gift he stole from his parents earlier “my mom asked me to give you this present, I don’t really know why, she didn’t want to tell me what it was” He never lied so badly in his entire life, but knowing Y/n was probably miserable was distracting him.

She found it suspect but didn’t do anything, it was better ti ignore it “How lovely, come in and have lunch with us, Y/n and Lucius will be thrilled to see you” Mrs. Malfoy suggested, probably trying to maintain friendly due to her relationship with the Black family.

Y/n really will, he thought.

When Y/n saw Sirius she felt hope rise in her chest for the first time since beginning of the break, she ran and hugged him tightly, the hug felt warn and safe, she didn’t want to ever let go. But she had to, the action was inappropriate. “Sirius!!! What are you doing here, what a lovely visit” she said winking at him, trying to hold composure but failing.

“Sirius” Lucius greeted him too cordially “Came to visit my fiancé?” He asked with a smug look on his face.

“Not yet, darling” Y/n retorted with a fake smile

Sirius sat next to her at the big table, the room was dark and big, the table was made of hardwood the only light sources were the sun and a weak candelabra, the room had a giant fireplace that was probably the only warm place in the house and heavy curtains. When Lucius and Mrs. Malfoy were distracted, Sirius whispered to Y/n “Say you have to go to the bathroom, James’ waiting for you outside, he probably already has your Trunk”.

His word startled Y/n, that was a dream come true, but she couldn’t “Sirius, I can’t leave, my parents would kill me” she paused to check if no one was listening “If I run it would create a conflict between my parents and the Malfoys and I don’t want to be caught in the middle of it.” She said pretending to pay attention on Lucius’ commentaries “I’m going to stay here” she continued, shocking Sirius completely.

“But your parents want you to get married Y/n, are you just going to- marry Malfoy and the rest of your life with him?” she looked tense, knowing she’d have no choice, he hated seeing her like that.

Suddenly she heard Sirius clear his throat loudly, scaring her “I’m sorry to interrupt, but I need to talk with Y/n” he paused, the Malfoys were now looking at him “In private, if you allow us- it’s urgent” Mrs Malfoy looked a little confused but nodded. Sirius took Elena out of the room almost immediately.

“Y/n why in the name of Merlin are you staying here?”

“I can’t go Sirius, I told you, the Malfoys wouldn’t be happy, it could cause a conflict my parents want to avoid” Sirius didn’t look convinced, he knew she was just making excuses but he didn’t know why.

“Really? Isn’t you’re family the most powerful in the sacred-twenty-eight?” He commented mockingly “Why would they be scared of the Malfoys?” Sirius could see the fear in her eyes, she wanted to go but was scared, so he sat her down on a coach near and asked her with those protective grey eyes that made her feel so protected “Y/n, it’s alright you can tell me anything” he said covering her hands in his protectively.

“No, i-i i can’t tell you” He squeezed her hands reassuringly saying that no one would know if she told him. She took a deep breath, e/c eyes staring at his grey ones “If i run, my parents, will kill me” she said eyes now full of fear, it made them look darker.

“Theoretically, right?” He asked concerned, knowing deep down what kind of family the Watsons were, he was surprised with his shock, cursing himself for the stupid question.

“No Sirius!” She whispered shouted “They’ll actually kill me, you want to know how I ended up here at the Malfoys after I told them I didn’t want to come? Do you?” She looked at him waiting for an answer, he nodded “They used two of the three unforgivable curses on me, every day until I agreed to come and marry Lucius” her voice was cracking “They used Imperio, made me not move and then used Cruciatus, I was feeling so much pain that I thought I was going to die and worse, I couldn't move a toe, I couldn’t even try to ease my pain by screaming and moving because i was under their control.” His eyes were now burning with anger “To get me to come here they used Imperio again and I don’t them to use it ever again, I lost all my free will, so what choice do I have?” Her voice was cracking, fighting the urge to cry, only the mere thought of what had happed scared her. “They’d rather see me dead than seeing me go rogue and ruin the family name” she paused, taking a breath and continued, desperation written all over her face “Why do you think i’ve always been pureblood propaganda for my parents? The gracious perfect daughter, perfect sister, the perfect student? because if I did what you do” she gestured at him “They’d kill me” She finished, looking at him, eyes begging for help, face trying miserably to hide her emotions. Sirius was scared, not even his parents had ever done something of the sort and they creative punishers. So he wrapped her in his arms not wanting to ever let her go, wanting to protect every strand of hair in her head. She melted into his embrace, all of the fear and agony being soothed.

“Oh Merlin Y/n, i’m so sorry” Sirius almost cried when she hugged him back tightly, looking for safety in his arms, the arms she knew so well. After a few moments Sirius said abruptly “Marry me Y/n” he felt her body stiffen “Please, I know you can handle this on your own, but I don’t want you to” he paused, caressing her hair “Please marry me, the Black name should be enough for your parents to accept the union, just let me take care of you, please”

For the first time, Y/n didn’t protest, she just nodded and buried her head on his chest, she knew this plan was reckless and would make her parents angry, but she couldn’t control herself, it was like her body couldn’t take the pain anymore. “Y/n, go find James, he’s outside. I’ll talk with Malfoy, please just go, ok?” He kissed her forehead, as she stood up and went to find James.

Sirius went back to the dining room and explained that Y/n had to go home, because she would refuse Lucius’ proposal. The Malfoys were startled and outraged, she didn’t even have the guts to tell them herself? She had to bring another boy? It was all a waste of time and i’d be a disgrace for the Malfoy name if someone found out their son were rejected by a Watson, but surprisingly Sirius managed to convince them, no one created excuses as good as him. Surprisingly the Malfoys didn’t try to stop him, it was a miracle, even though they couldn’t do anything since Y/n wasn’t their daughter and it’d make a scene that could ruin their reputation, that wouldn’t last long though, they needed to run, because they would certainly contact Y/n’s parents to give a piece of their minds, it was a deal after all, they didn’t understand what happened.

“Well then Mr. Black, we hope everything’s turns out to be fine” Mrs. Malfoy politely sneered with a wave of goodbye.

“Eh-hm Thank you Mrs. Malfoy, we’re sorry for the inconvenience” Sirius said a bit nervous, leaving the room as quickly as he could.

While Sirius was talking with the Malfoys, Y/n was running to the front gate where James was waiting for her. “Y/n/n!” He shouted as he saw her running his way, when she arrived he wrapped her in a bear hug lifting her off the ground. “I’m so glad you’re okay” he said warmly, form this day on, feeling her fear as she hugged him back James considered her his sister and she considered him her brother, since he protected her, risked a rescue when she needed the most, that meant the world.

“I’m glad to see you too Prongs” she chuckled lightly at his protective brother hug.

“Here” he said pointing to his broomstick “We’re going together, to my house, when Sirius arrive” she nodded climbing up the broom behind him.

James and Y/n were already waiting, ready to leave, when Sirius showed up getting on his broom saying “Let’s go, let’s go before they warn your parents” and taking off, James following right after. Riding their brooms fast against the cold winter air, happy that their mental plan had worked. When the trio arrived at the Potters, James’ mom was in the garden, certainly not expecting her son and his friend to arrive with a h/c girl with e/c eyes stained with tears.

“James, care to explain?” His mother asked unable to hide her surprise, but going to help the girl and try to calm her down “Let’s go inside, i’ll make you some tea sweetie and you two will explain me what happened” she said looking at the boys.

So, once inside, the boys explained what Y/n was going through and how she was being tortured and forced to marry Malfoy. Euphemia, was disgusted with Y/n’s parents, she had heard of their reputations before but this was cruel. During the whole explanation Y/n was quiet, riding out of her shock, they guessed, until she spoke and everyone went silent “I need to to my house” she said so low it was almost inaudible, they were sure they had heard it wrong but then she said it louder this time “I need to go home before things get worse” the room went silent.

“You’re not going back there Y/n” Sirius was the first to talk, desperation in his voice.

“They’ll kill me if I don’t go back”

“There, One more reason, it’s not safe” James added, but she insisted.

Sirius stopped, looking at her “Ok then, I’m going with you, after I pay mommy dear a visit. Can you wait only until that? i’ll be as quick as possible”

“Yeah Y/n wait a little and calm down, you can stay here until he comes back” James said patting her shoulder gently.

“No, I don’t want to bother your parents, I’m fine” she said shyly, earning a shrug from Mrs. Potter “-and I-i don’t know how long it’ll take until my parents find out i left the Malfoys, it’s too risky”

“Dear, calm down, there’s no problem in you staying here, I promise, wait for Sirius, he’ll be there for you, your parents are not going to hurt you. If your plan doesn’t work then you can stay here with us, just rest for a bit” Euphemia said with a motherly smile on her face.

“But Sirius don’t you think your parents will be warned too?” Y/n tried to protest but James’ mom was already showing her to her room.

Y/n was so tired from the restless nights at the Malfoys, from the fear she constantly felt that Lucius would do something to her and from her parents, that when Euphemia offered the guest room and put her there, she drifted to sleep as soon as her head hit the pillow. Sirius caressed her hair and laid beside for a minute to make sure she was alright after the turbulent events from the break.

While she slept he told James about his plan to marry her, He was a Black, her parents would certainly be pleased with the union if the anger from the Malfoy incident passed and his parents would never refuse to wed him with a Watson, it’d be like refusing royalty, maybe it’d be difficult to explain the latest incident but anyway it was the offer of a lifetime. “Wow, Sirius are you sure? I mean, I want to save Y/n too, but- this, are you sure? This whole marriage thing is mental” James gasped.

“Her parents won’t let her stay here, they’ll try to get her back and make her marry someone else, since we humiliated Lucius, they won’t stop, I know how these people get” Sirius stated “But if I go to my parents and convince them to ask her hand to the Watsons, since she’s not officially betrothed to anyone yet, not only they’ll be thrilled but they’ll also do anything to convince her parents. And my parents would Betroth me one day too so this is just the best option for both of us” James couldn’t argue, it was a good plan in the rough.

“So you’re getting married, that’s serious” James teased “Our dear friend Y/n/n will be future Mrs. Black” he laughed hard at Sirius’ blushed face. “Oh Merlin!” He pointed a finger to Sirius “You like her! You- fancy Y/n, Merlin” James was so excited “It all makes sense, this friends with benefits thing would never work and that’s why you’re so relaxed about marrying her, because you fancy Y/N/N, Merlin!”

“No I don’t, shove off Prongs, you’re hallucinating, we’re friends” The blush on his face wasn’t ignored by James, who laughed harder “Now, i need to go home and convince mommy Black to talk to the Watsons” Sirius cut James off, leaving the room heading to the hell he called home.

“Whatever you say Pads” James yelled from the kitchen.

---------------------------

taglist: @msmb ❤️

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simpforsnape · 4 years ago

Text

Sincerely Yours.

Severus Snape x OC/Reader

wordcount: 1191

warnings: minor typos, more plot. enjoy.

Credit to the creator of this gif.

Previous - Next

Chapter 13

Twelve years ago.

Ivory appeared in what seemed to be a room. It took her a moment to realize where she was. The room was dark, but it was surrounded by burning candles that sat all over.

A noise caught her attention as she soon turned to see a woman propped up on the bed. In her arms laid a newborn.

It was her mother Anah, and herself when she was a baby.

Anah was cooped up against her child placing multiple kisses against her cheek.

“You're so beautiful my little Princesse.”

Her lips mumbled against the baby's forehead.

“My little Ivory..”

Anah praised her baby.

“Ivory Aria Vaneraries Snape . It fits doesn't it?” She snickered while she spoke to her child.

A smile peered on the girl's face as she watched the moment happen. From the looks of it, Anah seemed happy with her. She caught the very last, last name. Snape? Why did it sound familiar?

The doors to her room opened rapidly catching Ivory’s attention. About five people marched into the room. There stood her grandfather, grandmother, aunt, and two house-elves that served the Vaneraries.

“Anah.. It's time my love.” Mally spoke with a quiet voice as she settled next to her daughter. Anah held on to the child tightly.

“I-I’m not ready to let her go..”

Jayhen, her father gave a vociferous sigh. It was clear that he was upset. It was written all over his brown wrinkled face.

“Anahstacia. I've given you three days to say your goodbyes to this child. Now, we must do exactly as we planned and send her off with Maykaylah. It's the only way we can keep.. this situation.. Under control.”

May stood near her father as she slowly began to walk to Anah.

“Anah, come on. We don't have time for this.”

She shook her head again as the tears soon formed in her eyes.

“No, she's my baby, my responsibility! I can't let her go... Severus-”

“Must.not.know. It's bad enough that you've cultivated with that half-blood.” Jayhen expressed with his hands tucked at his sides. He stood there emotionless.

“Jayhen, you've said enough,” Mally uttered as she glanced back at Anah.

“My dear, you have to let her go..”

The tears began to stream down her face. She couldn't let her child go. Not now, Merlin, not ever.

Even within three days, It showed Anah how much she truly loved her child.

May’s hand grasped down to gently pull the babe away from Anah.

“No..”

She still held onto Ivory as her mother grabbed her arms to pull her back.

“Anah, please..”

“No I-I can't.. That's my baby.. I can't lose her! I can't lose another child!” She whimpered still fighting with her sister. May eventually grabbed whole to the child as she wrapped her tight in the clothe that was containing her.

“Please give me my baby back!” Her weep grew louder as she shifted out of the bed with her mother still holding her back.

“Maykaylah, take care of her..” Jayhen spoke giving his youngest daughter a look.

May shook her head at his command.

“Enrona, Berius.. Take them to.. you know where..”

“Yes, Master Jayhen.” The older elf bowed in respect ushering Enrona to come along. In a blink of an eye, the four of them were gone.

Anah was becoming a sobbing mess as she held herself in full distraught. They took her away.

“Why.. Why did you have to take my baby!”

“That Half-blood child?.. She will do nothing but bring dishonor to this family Anahstacia. You know this.”

“She’s an infant! She knows nothing! All you care about is bloodlines! You don't know what she will become when she grows up. Hell, you can’t stop me from going and getting her back right now!”

Anah shot back causing the older man to frown. It was obvious that his daughter wouldn't let this go.

“Maltevin Hasbro.” He muttered. He cursed Anah.

“Until the child turns Twelve. You will not see her. Only through photographs, violate this. You die.”

Bitterness coursed through her veins.

“Drop dead.”

The words fell off of her lips like nothing. How could he?!

His face remained the same, unbothered.

“You will leave this house by dawn. You are to never set foot in this house again .”

The memory was beginning to fade. Ivory watched as their faces withered into nothing bringing her back to reality.

She stood away from the Pensieve turning to see Anah standing on the side, waiting for her.

“Do you.. understand now..?” Anah questioned hesitantly after catching her daughter's gaze. There were tears in her eyes. She wrapped her arms around her waist once again as she let off a soft sob.

“Mom.. I'm so sorry..” She whispered into the woman's shirt.

“It’s not your fault, my love.” She brought one of her hands up to the back of her head, holding her child close.

“It’s done and over with..” She murmured which caused Ivory to pull away again.

“So.. This Snape man.. He's my father?..”

Silence filled Anah.

“Your Mum will explain all of this later neicey, Right now let's get you off to sleep. But first, let's gets you sorted into your house.”

It was mentioned over letters between the two sisters. Ivory would become a student at Hogwarts and live with Anahstacia after the curse had ended.

“Dumbledore, if you would be so kind and do the honors..” May replied.

Ivory was ushered to a seat once again as the Elder Wizard approached her, holding nothing but a hat.

It was soon placed on her head.

“Hm..” The sorting hat expressed.

“I’ve seen a mind as wide as yours before..”

It continued.

“Ah yes, I know exactly where to place you, Ravenclaw!”

Sweet and simple. It's like Ivory was a replica of Anah. She had yet to show her father's traits.

“Perfect..” Anah smiled as the hat was soon removed from Ivory.

“Off we go Iv, We have a big today tomorrow.” May ushered at the child. Ivory gave one last hug to her mother. Anah placed a gentle kiss on her head.

“Sleep well my sweet, I will see you in the morrow.”

“Love you mom..”

“I love you more, my princess..”

Maykaylah and Ivory left the office soon after leaving Dumbledore and Anah. He returned the hat to its proper place as he then turned to the young witch who stood there. Lost in her thoughts.

“Albus. How do I tell him?”

He settled at his desk with his attention on her.

“It will come fluently, my dear. Do not fret. Now, if you don't mind.. There are things I must attend to.”

“Goodnight Sir.”

“Farwell, Anahstacia..”

She bid him a bow leaving out of his office now heading down to the dungeons. The heart in her chest was pounding. How would Severus react? Would he leave.. again? Maybe she should wait? Give it time Anah. It will be reviled in due time.

She arrived in the dungeons quicker than she thought. She stopped in front of the door before giving out one gentle sigh.

“I’ll tell him.. eventually..”

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lonelysoul029 · 4 years ago

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His Hufflepuff Secret ~ Ten

Warnings: good old fashioned smut,

<-Previous Chapter

_____

Draco enters the kitchen, just as the last of the house elves leave. He sighs and comes up with the next best thing; tomato soup.

He gets to work, gathering the ingredients and placing a pot on the stove. Draco expertly moves around, having made this soup many times before.

As all the ingredients simmer in the pot, he breathes in the smell. It takes him back to the times when he'd be sick at home and their house elves would cook up a nice bowl of tomato soup.

"Y/N will love this," he places the lid on after putting the diced potatoes into the mix.

With a bowl of tomato soup in each hand, Draco walks back down to the dungeons. It's a bit late now, so he's careful to not be seen by Mr. Filch or his creepy cat. He reaches the bare stone wall and whispers the password. The common room seems to be empty, except for the dancing flames in the furnace.

He's about to open the door that leads to the boys' dorm rooms when a sudden voice almost makes him drop the bowls in his hands.

"Hey, Dracy."

Draco rolls his eyes before turning towards the voice, "Don't call me that, Parkinson."

Pansy completely ignores his statement and walks over to him, eyeing the food he's carrying, "What do you have there?"

"Poison."

She giggles. The most annoying sound to ever reach Draco's eardrums. "You're funny, Dracy," the girl takes a whiff, "Hmm, tomato soup. Why do you have two bowls, though?"

"That's none of your business, really," he turns to leave, but is stopped when a small hand is placed on his shoulder.

Pansy turns him back around to face her, "I think it is my business, my love." God, that would sound great coming from Y/N, Draco thinks. "You're going back to your dorm late at night with food that is obviously for two people," she folds her arms across her chest, obviously, and pathetically, trying to make her tits look bigger, "Who is the other one for? Don't tell me it's for that blood traitor whore."

"Shut the fuck up, Parkinson," Draco scowls at her, "For your information, it's for Y/N and I. You know, Fawley? My girlfriend." He storms through the door, leaving an annoyed but dejected, Pansy.

He hears her whine a 'hmph' as the door closes behind him. Draco sighs then walks faster.

Finally, he reaches his bedroom. He looks over to the bed and sees Y/N lying down on her side, sleeping peacefully. He crosses the room to carefully place the bowls on his desk.

Draco sits on the bed next to her, admiring how beautiful she is; her lips parted slightly, lashes fanning over her skin, and her face calm and relaxed. He brushes the hair away from her cheeks before gently kissing her temple.

Y/N's eyes flutter open and she sees Draco smiling down at her, "How long have you been sitting there?"

"Oh, I've been here for hours. Just watching you sleep," he grins at her.

She reaches a hand up to ruffle his hair, "Creep."

"Yeah, but I'm your creep," he winks and they both laugh. Draco leans down to capture her lips with his. Y/N brings her other hand to the back of his neck to pull him so that he's on top of her, using both of his hands to support him.

Y/N slides her tongue into his mouth, making him moan. He wraps his fingers around her neck, the cold silver rings pressing into her sensitive flesh. She sighs into the kiss, enjoying the warmth that his whole body provides.

All of a sudden, Draco pulls away, "Soup's getting cold," he smirks as he gets up.

"Tease," she mutters, sitting up on the bed.

He hands her a bowl and settles down across from her, "I made it myself. Eat up."

She takes a spoonful of the soup, "Draco, that's so good," she moans.

Draco chokes on his food, "Jesus fucking Christ, Fawley. Don't do that."

Y/N tilts her head to the side in confusion, "Don't do what? I was just saying that the soup's good."

When Draco gains his resolve a little, he clears his throat, "But you-- nevermind."

She raises an eyebrow at him and sets her bowl down on the nightstand, deciding to get payback for getting teased, "I, what?," she's smirking now as she inches closer to a flustered Draco.

"Fawley," he sternly warns, "Don't."

Y/N grabs his hand that is holding his spoon and guides it to her mouth. Moaning again, but blinking innocently up at him. She takes the spoon out and licks her lips. Wiping the corner with her thumb then sucking it seductively.

"Fuck it," Draco drops the bowl to the floor, the clattering and splashing sound ignored as he pushes her down, kissing her aggressively.

"Draco," she whispers into his mouth, "I need you."

"Really?" he pulls away, panting.

No sooner than Y/N utters a 'yes' does he crash his lips on hers again, even more passionate than before. He pulls her panties to the side, fingers brushing against her clit.

"You're soaked, darling," he whispers into her ear as he pumps a finger into her, getting her ready for him.

She moans and Draco quickens his pace, making her come for the second time tonight.

As she recovers from her orgasm, Draco takes off his shirt and trousers, leaving him in his boxers. Y/N's eyes widen when he pulls the black material down, his cock springing out as he does.

Draco smirks at her reaction, "Like what you see, Y/N?"

She can only nod in response, causing the boy to chuckle. He reaches over to the drawer on the nightstand next to her and opens a box of condoms. Y/N raises an eyebrow at him.

"What? It was a gag gift from Zabini," he defends, pulling out a foil packet and places the box back in the drawer. He puts the packet in between his teeth as he uses a hand to slowly pump his length. Draco's eyes rake over her body hungrily and Y/N thinks she can just melt right then and there. He opens the packet and rolls the condom on. "Are you sure this is okay?"

"Yes, Draco. Please," Y/N replies.

"Alright, baby," he lines up with her entrance. He uses an arm to support his weight and pushes the tip in.

Y/N sucks in a breath, the excitement flowing through her veins.

He inches deeper and deeper with each slow thrust. Her walls clamp down on his shaft once he bottoms out, groaning quietly at the feeling. He takes a moment to let her adjust around him.

She wraps her arms around his neck, "You can move, Draco."

He nods and slowly pulls back before slamming back in. Y/N moans as Draco gradually increases his pace. He's breathing heavily as sweat starts forming on his forehead.

She cries out when he hits a particular spot deep inside her. She experimentally rolls her hips against his and elicits a moan from him.

"Fuck," he pants, "Do that again."

She obeys him, another moan bleeds through his lips as he throws his head back. She hooks her feet together behind his back, making him hit deeper. She drops her hands down on each side of her head, gripping the sheets tight as Draco brings her closer and closer to the edge.

"Draco," she whimpers, "Please," she has no idea what she's pleading for, but Draco seems to know.

"I got you, baby," he brings a hand down to where they are connected. He uses his thumb to rub figure-eight patterns on her clit.

"Fuck, I'm gonna come," she moans.

"Come for me, Y/N," Draco's deep and raspy voice reaches her ears.

His words push her completely off the edge. A string of moans and curses fall from her lips as the pleasure of her orgasm explodes through her.

Draco stills inside her, groaning out as he releases into the condom. He thrusts a few more times, riding out their high together, then pulls out. He discards of the latex then collapses onto the bed.

Once he catches his breath, he speaks, "How are you feeling, sweetheart?"

Y/N turns on her side to face him and smiles, "Amazing."

He chuckles and plants a kiss on her forehead, "I'm glad." Draco gets up and puts his boxers back on, "Come on, let's get ready for bed," he then walks into his bathroom.

"Okay," she picks up Draco's shirt from the floor. She puts it on and leaves the top few buttons unbuttoned. Y/N heads inside the bathroom and sees Draco at the sink, brushing his teeth.

He catches sight of her through the mirror and almost chokes on the toothpaste, so he spits it out, "Merlin."

"What's wrong?"

Draco finishes brushing his teeth and turns around to face her, "Nothing. You just look so good in my shirt, looking completely fucked out."

Y/N smirks then puts her hair up into a messy bun. Draco stares at her, mouth slightly agape.

"What?" she walks past him towards the sink, "It's so my hair doesn't get wet while I brush my teeth."

He looks at her with a grin, "Woman, you know damn well-"

"Obviously," Y/N mumbles with a toothbrush in her mouth.

Draco chuckles and just watches her through the mirror as she finishes up.

"You know," she spits out the water then looks at him in the reflection, "You should take a picture. It'll last longer."

"Okay," is all he says before leaving the bathroom. When he comes back, he has a Polaroid camera in his hand. Y/N is about to say something but gets cut off by a flash. He pulls out the film and waits for the photo to show up.

"Draco!" she lightly hits him on the arm.

"What? You told me to take a picture," Draco shrugs.

"I was joking, love," she replies sarcastically.

He sticks his tongue out at her playfully and she does it right back.

"Look, the picture's done," he looks down at the photo in his hand and his lips pull into a smile.

"Let me see," Y/N reaches out to grab the film but Draco moves his hand away.

"No."

She frowns, "Why not? Oh Merlin, I look terrible, don't I? I swear Draco Malfoy if you show anyone th--"

She gets cut off again when Draco suddenly kisses her. He pulls away after a second.

"You don't look terrible. It's a very cute photo, actually," he states as-a-matter-of-factly.

Still a little flustered after the kiss, she asks, "Why won't you show me, then?"

"Because," he uses his free hand to rub the back of his neck, "I kind of just... want it for myself, I guess."

I swear, my heart just skipped a beat. "O-oh," Y/N blushes.

"Yeah, it's no big deal. If you're done, we should get back to bed," Draco walks back into the bedroom.

Y/N stands there for a moment, confused, "Huh. That was kinda cute," she smiles to herself before following Draco. She sees him standing by his desk holding his wallet while he inserts her photo into the leather fold.

"Now, you'll always be with me, wherever I go," he turns around wraps her arms around her waist, kissing her forehead.

"I've always been with you, though," she replies.

"Yeah," he shrugs, "But sometimes you're with your little friends and you have to pretend that you hate me."

She chuckles, "Considering what happened at the Yule Ball, and literally everything that happened since, I think we don't have to pretend anymore."

Draco leans down, softly kissing her, "I think I'm good with that."

_____

Next Chapter->

#his hufflepuff secret #chapter ten #writing #fan fiction #draco malfoy smut #draco x reader #draco x hufflepuff!reader #wizarding world #draco malfoy #x reader #fiction #series #jkr #harry potter #izzy writes #y/n #draco x y/n #Smut #draco fanfiction

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maggyme13 · 4 years ago

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Why licking? (14/?)

AN: I apologise for the long wait and the mistakes you will 100% find in this chapter. It is late, but I did not want you to wait any longer for this next chapter

Warning: angst, injury

Wordcount: around 1700

Why Licking-Masterlist

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Part 13

„Azog, this is madness!“, you awed seeing the elven army gathered in the valley below you stand.

“They will fall and we will be victorious, my little mate.”, he hummed reassuringly, “Oakenshield and his brood will lay at your feet when I have won.”

“Azog-”, you tried again, but one look of the great male shut you up at once, “-I will go inside.”

He turned back around and you took it as a sign of approval.

And all of this because a lost arm.

“Ze Mabrotnosh.”, Drago called from somewhere to your right, “Food ready.”

“Thank you. Will you not join the battle?”, you wondered.

“My place is at your side. We are your guards.” You must have looked as lost as you thought because the warg-skin wearing Orc tried again using Westron, “We guards. We protect Mabrotnosh.”

His voice was filled with pride and you finally understood the whole depth of the situation: these orcs were not only Azog´s most trusted, but also your personal guards.

Akul jumped up and down with happiness when he noticed your presence. He had been taken on a hunt with Ska´al earlier that day as a training and was now covered in dirt and leaves.

“Akul,”, you laughed, “you were not supposed to take the whole forest with you. Did you bring something? Except a lot of leaves?”

“Mabrotnosh.”,it was Ska´al. “Akul is doing well. He will soon be strong enough for you to use him as a mount. He killed his first game today.”

But you were not really listening and more concerned about how long it would take you to clean his fur.

“At least I have something to do while they fight.”, you groaned. One of your fingers had just gotten stuck in a slimy something and Akul licked you exited.

.-.--.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

Hours past. You could hear the distant, and yet too close, clanking of weapons mixed with the shouts and screams of the fighters. With every passing minute your worry grew; were they losing? Drago and his orcs seemed to become agitated.

“Drago, I want to go outside. Is that possible?”, you demanded more than asked.

He nodded a yes. “But we need to be careful. Information has it that Oakenshield is coming for Ravenhill.”

Following your guard through the pathways, you suddenly stopped dead in your tracks.

“Release the dwarf.”, you ordered without really knowing why. Deep down you knew the battle was lost and the dwarfs would win.

“Let him go. He will die on the battlefield by one of our orcs, the elves or even his own.”

Hatred and confusion crossed the dwarf´s face.

“Go.”, you whispered to him,” Live or die with your kin. Your faith is back in your hands again.”

You had given him back his freedom. A freedom you no longer had and will never have again. Even though you believed you loved him, you also knew that if you ever tried to leave, he would hunt you down. Taking your own life was no possibility either. It would dishonor your father´s ultimate sacrifice.

“Have someone escort him as close to the battlefield as possible.”, was the last order you gave before disappearing into another dark hallway.

Drago just wanted to say something, when a servant orc appeared out of nowhere.

“Master Azog wants to speak to the Mabrotnosh. One of Oakenshield´s kin had been caught.”, it spoke, motioning to follow him to the head of the tower.

-..--..--..--..--..--..--..--..--..--..--.

“Ah, (y/n) witness my revenge on the line of Durin.”, Azog exclaimed once he had noticed your arrival.

At his feet laid a young looking Dwarf with blond hair and beard. Blood tickled down his temple and others had splattered over the clothes you were able to see.

Noticing the orc´s change of focus, the hostage lifted his head and disbelieve crossed his face. Never had he dared to think that there would be a female of the Race of men with the Orcs. At least not one who wasn´t a slave.

“Where is the other dwarf? I had ordered for him to be brought here as well!”,Azog continued with anger in his voice. You believed you knew why, you had understood the words for´Dwarf´ and ´bring me´.

“I had him escorted to the battlefield, so his hopes for freedom can be crushed. Maybe even by his own kin.”, you admitted, hoping he would not look straight through your lie.

“WHAT?”, now his anger was directed at you and you took a step back. “You had NO RIGHT.”

Fear crept up your spine.

“He was mine! My enemy! My Revenge!”

In his anger the orc lashed out. Unfortunately for you, it was his prosthetic.

A pained cry echoed through the ruin. He had sliced your face, and trusting the pain he had hid your eye.

I need to leave!

“(y/n).”, Azog breathed himself in shock, “Please.”

But you did not listen, the pain and fear was dominant in your mind. Instead you tumbled back, further and further away from his voice.

Somewhere, you noticed Drago to call out for you while Ska´al was growling, but you did not understand what they said. And there would no time for you to react. The moment you heard them, your foot hid nothingness and you fell.

Seconds felt like minutes; in the end, you did not hit the cold floor as you would have thought, but freezing water of a river below.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-..-.-.

The battle was five months ago. You had started to live in a small run down hut at the edge of the ruined town you had learned was called Dale.

They believed you to be a former slave and so the Elves and Villagers had treated your wounds and allowed you to stay.

Another thing you had learned was that the blond dwarf had been a prince and able to survive thanks to your little ´sacrifice´. Azog was defeated, but no one knew if he was really dead or still alive; an orc that fit the description of Drago, had pulled him atop a Warg and away from the battlefield. Followed by most of the remaining orcs.

The peace that had followed the battle was only interrupted by stories of huge beastlike footprints hunters had found in the nearby forest. And hearing rumors about floating ghost eyes in the dark, you were sure Akul was roaming around.

Happy tension laid in the air: the dwarven princes were on their way to visit Dale for the first time in months. Your tension was not one of happiness though. There was no fault in your mind, that the prince must have seen you that fateful day. He would now that you were no former slave. And then the little freedom you had gained would end in death or jail.

A sigh left your throat.

“(y/n).”, one of the old village women called out for you, “Where are you going? The princes want to see every female who was injured during the battle. That includes you as well.”

What have I done for the Valar to hate me this much?

With a groan you turned around. “I don´t feel well. The sun is hurting my eye. If they want to see me, they can come and visit.”

“Many of us have scars from that day. No need to hide away!”, she called after you and you wanted to curse.

“It is the sun. And if you don´t want me to puke my guts out right here, you let me go on my way.”

Not waiting (or caring) for her answer, you went home.

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

It was late in the evening when a knock sounded from your door.

“You may enter!”

Just a second later the door opened and one single dwarf entered. Silence followed the sound of the closing door and you anticipated him to start the conversation.

“So it is really you.”, he ended the silence. It was the dwarven slave you had freed during the battle.

“Will you dkill me now? Or will you just call other guards?”, you sighted.

“Why don´t you turn around?”, he asked and following a bit of consideration, you did as asked.

“I see you were injured during the battle. I wonder how it happened with how protective the pale bastard was of you.”

“Azog was angry that I had led you go.”, you explained, “He slapped me and the next thing I now was that I had fallen into a river.”

“Why did you stay hidden?”

“Where did you want me to go? Back to the orcs after the only reason for me staying alive slapped me of a mountain? To the Dwarfs ? I was with the most hated orc ever alive. I would have end up in jail or worse. Into the wilderness? I think I don´t need to explain why that would have been an idiotic thing for me to do. Home? I am the sole survivor of my village.

“This is our luck then. King Thorin is searching for you.”

“Why?”

“To see the person that had saved his heir.”, the dwarf tried to reason but you did not believe it.

“Glad that he is indeed alive. But if that is the reason they surely took their time. Would they not have come earlier to see to me?”

“Truth is. I do not know the whole reason behind their search.”, the dwarf admitted.

“Then I will not come with you. Not without knowing why.”

“I could make you.”, he threatened, “But I will not. You gave me my life back. I will not take yours in return. Until we see each other again, Mabrotnosh.”, and with these words he opened the door.

“You just called me queen.”, you dryly laughed.

“I know. You might not be mine. But that is who you are. Who you became, if I like it or not. We are addressing that Elfking accordingly as well after all.”

“Never thought the two of us would have something in common.”, you mumbled, and when you cast your attention back to your guest, you noticed him gone.

Better get ready for the next visitors. They might be my last.

Part 15

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bloodyblade · 4 years ago

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Tremble For My Beloved [1]

Pairing: Thorin x Fem!Reader Summary: AU in which the daughter of a nobleman was running for her life after an orc attack, and after being welcomed under Gandalf's wings, joins the quest to reconquer Erebor. Sort of. Warnings: Mentions of violence and gore, a tiny bit sad. Word Count: 2.353 words.

[Ao3]

Chapter One.

The earth beneath your feet was shaking and trembling, or perhaps it was your legs that were too spent from running in a desperate and unprepared sprint. Entering a crumbling house, you hide behind a wall, standing on a crouch to be able to take a peek on the outside from the window. Holding the machete tightly to your chest, your eyes sweeped the hiding place you chose looking for possible exits.

Sweat was running down your face, lingering at the eyebrows and making their way down. Your heart was beating as strong and fast as a drum, you could feel it in your chest, throat and the sound in your ears. Harsh breaths were coming out silently as you could manage. You were trembling. Exhausted, scared and hurt. Dirt was accumulating under your fingernails along with specs of blood that also tainted the green dress you wore, shoes and thighs, finer than many could ever wish for, had its beauty and delicacy ruined. You looked ruined.

Your hair, that before was put in an intricate updo, was now almost completely loose and caked with sweat and blood that wasn’t yours. Askell, who you grew up having him as your shadow, died for you. He was your protector, always have been. A knight dedicated to you, before you could even walk and always accompanied you through your most important feats -learning how to walk, riding a horse for the first time and then falling epically on your ass, watching you from afar on your every name day. God, it was his blood on your hair, face, chest, dress. The blow was so hard on his head that he fell over you, who were behind him just like he demanded you should be. You scrambled back but part of his body landed on you, knocking you to the ground with him before you could push his body off, Askell’s heavy armour making everything even more difficult. Just as the enemy turned around, you finally managed to get free and balance your protector’s weapon by your side. It was pointy and shone under the candle lights, as if it had never been used before. Because it hasn’t, Askell never needed to. No one in your father’s state ever needed too.

But looking up and coming face to face to this… creature’s face, your blood ran cold. It was pale and ugly, uglier than any story could ever make up. So you got up at your fastest pace and with as much strength you could gather, took the knight’s weapon and ran. Ran until your lungs were on fire and felt like your deep, uneven breaths weren’t enough to keep your body going. Everything passed in a blur, as if your body alone knew what it was doing and so you dodge the fights and screaming and crying people, successfully making your way out of your forever home and the whole manor and what else it consisted of. As you slowed down, you ventured into a small city, knowing you must have ran a lot, for the city your caregivers always spoke of was certainly a few miles away.

And that’s how you found yourself where you are now. You didn’t look back in fear of what you could see and in fear of your enemies, which was most definitely a stupid decision but you couldn’t go back now. You knew your father had enemies, but never thought anyone would be so cruel to try and murder not just your family line but other nobles that were present at the feast your father was giving. Did someone hire them? Did your father somehow get on these creature’s bad side and leave them seeking revenge? How would dad even get in their way?

Don’t think about it. Those things didn’t matter, not anymore at least. Askell was dead, your father was most certainly dead right now and your mother died the moment you took your first breath. You heard how people would whisper that when you came out of your mother’s womb, you stole her breath and ultimately caused her death, and that it was a sign of a curse they were certain you carried: anyone to ever love you would most likely face an awful and painful death. So far, they weren’t wrong. Perhaps you were cursed.

You stayed alert for a while, besides the sounds of your now normalizing breaths, all you could hear were the sounds of nature that surrounded the place. Overgrown grass surrounded the house, allowing for all kinds of bugs to make home there. She could see the flickering soft light of the fireflies, hear the cicadas and buzz of wings that flew past your face, way too close for your liking. And you started to lose track of time, your legs growing tired from carrying your weight in the same position for too long. Slipping slowly towards the ground, you let yourself rest for a moment, closing your eyes and puffing a shaky breath past your lips. You were so tired. It felt like a fever dream, the people chatting and laughing and eating and mingling around. The sound of your father’s boisterous laughter ringing loud and accompanied by many others. A song played on the background softly, a few people fluttering on the ground with grace and kids running around, being chased and chatiest by their caretakers. Braids more intricate than others, some showing off and proudly stating their status, either as rich as piss or happily married, courting. Beads as beautiful and delicate than many could ever wish for. Gosh, you did wish to have one on her hair at some point in life. But now all that seemed so… shallow and unimportant.

How could such futile happiness become a bloodbath so quickly? Thankfully you didn’t see any children hurt and held ignorant hope that they managed to flee to somewhere safe. Gosh, you could hardly believe that, on her way there, she slashed one of the monsters, the hard blade buried itself on his shoulder as he screamed in rage and pain, blood trickling down it’s bare chest and after tugging once, twice to get it out of him, it’s blood rushed out like a horror story would detail, making him stumble and set its eyes on you form, but before he could do anything, you hit it with the machete hard on the knee, making him fall on his face. Although the goal was to kill it with a hard strike to his chest, the weight of the weapon didn’t allow you to do so. But this creature was the same that killed Askell, so you felt a hint of satisfaction to cause it enough damage to somehow avenge him.

But it’s not like you didn’t get hurt at all, you were no fighter, even if Askell did try to give you self defense classes with a smaller sword. Main word being try. You could manage, but doubted you could handle yourself in battle, but he assured you that you would never need to go into battle as long as you had him. Your hairline was definitely sore and the skin open, allowing a little blood to pool around and dirty your face worse than it already was. On your run, you tripped and fell on your hands and knees, getting your palms scrapped and pulsing with pain from the fall and having to carry a heavy weapon your unprepared hands were unused to.

And you waited for something, anything. But nothing came. Were they waiting for you to leave the place or go back to the manor? It was better to stay here until morning, wasn’t it? Probably, yes. So, with your knees to your chest, you put your head between them, allowing your body to relax a little and feeling yourself going a tiny bit slack, your machete close by your side.

If it weren’t from the footsteps on the house terrain, you would’ve fallen asleep for your eyes were heavy and mind fatigued. Standing up slowly and carefully, trying to step as lightly as elves would, you picked up your weapon and walked towards the front door. Whoever was outside, their steps were light, but not light enough that you couldn’t hear them. You could also notice how confidently they were walking, so it couldn’t be children either, and by the sounds of it, they were alone.

Your head was pounding and your hands were shaking again, you were reaching the peak of exhaustion. You held your breath as three knocks sounded one after the other on the door. After not giving any kind of response, the door opened slowly and creaked loudly and a tall, slim robbed figure stood at the door, against the moonlight only their silhouette can be seen.Holding the weapon in front of you with both hands, you took a fighting instance, or what you thought could be described as it.

“Reveal yourself.” You demanded with a slight tremble and agitation to your voice, only to have the figure step forward with a chuckle. It was a man, with a long staff and grey robes that reached the ground and covered the length of his body. And he was old, a long beard adorning his face. A pointed blue hat complemented his appearance, making him look like… like he wanted to seem like a wizard.

“Ah, I figured you would be here, Y/N daughter of Sindel, son of Serill.” The senile man began, walking closer so you make out his features. His beard was as long as she initially made out, and as white as his long hair, just like the scarf he wore. His bushy eyebrows framed his eyes, wrinkled due to the warm smile he was trying to convey.

“Who are you and how do you know my name? How do you know my father?” You asked, keeping yourself unmoving where you stood. He sighed deeply but didn’t let his lips turn any other way.

“I’m Gandalf, the grey.” He brought his unoccupied hand to his chest, introducing himself kindly, before letting it fall along with a sorrowful expression on his face. “I’m deeply sorry for your loss, but I vowed your father to take care of you should… the unexpected turn of events happened before time was right.” He motioned for you to lower your hands, and you did it hesitantly. If he wanted, he could’ve hit you that staff he was holding, but he probably needed aid to keep standing. He looked very old. “In fact, you’re not safe at all while you’re here, come.” He motioned for you to follow him as he turned around but you didn’t move an inch. How did he know your father and did this man owe him anything? Did you even know your father at all? He looked back at you, taking carefully your fear struck features and ratted clothes and understood. Of course he knew there was a slight possibility you didn’t know anything at all about who your father truly was but more importantly, who you truly were and just how important you are.

“How do you know you’re not one of them?” You finally voiced your main concern at the moment, Gandalf cocked his head to the side. “My… My family was murdered. How do I know you’re just trying to lure me out here so they can finish what they began?” You took another step back, waiting for an answer. He didn’t look exactly threatening but you couldn’t afford to trust anyone, not right now.

“Would that answer your question?” He asked as he handed you the object that was in his possession. Where did he get this? It was a dagger. Your mother’s dagger. One of the belongings she left for you, passed from mother to daughter in your family’s lineage. The design on the hilt was intricate and beautiful. It was rather dusty and had a few marks of use, but you were sure it would’ve been from her. Your father often told you how skilled she was, but never allowed you to use it. It was merely something decorative laying proudly on your nightstand. Until you lost it. You cried for days and dared not to tell your father, he would most likely be furious. Askell told you once how your parents knew your mother could possibly not survive after birth and how she separated and dedicated something for you, her first and only child. Your dad did ask you once about it, he probably already knew by them, but you decided to pretend everything was where it was supposed to be. Which was wherever you wanted it. That earned you a pointed and warning glare for him but you only smiled sweetly back then. Now you had a slight idea where it went.

And it could be a copy, a very good one, for there were several skilled blacksmiths your father knew about. If it weren’t for one detail, you would not have believed him: two designs on the blade. The vessels of the sun and moon. Your mother has always been so devoted to Mahal. Your eyes glazed over, but you didn’t allow yourself to cry. Straightening yourself, you looked at the man that was waiting patiently for you to analyze what was yours by right. You looked at him with determination and a chuckle left his lips as he smiled again.

“Come, let’s get you somewhere safe for the time being.” He beckoned you closer again and this time you obeyed.

“Where are you taking me?” You questioned as you looked around warily, searching silently with a calculated gaze for any threats. Night time was never kind for those endangered and that’s exactly what you were. You could trust him, maybe. But you didn’t know if you could protect yourself and the old man as well. What’s with the pointy hat anyway?

“Well, my dear,” he began, waiting for you to fall into step besides him “You most definitely are in desperate need of a shower.”

#bb writes #thorin x reader #thorin x you #the hobbit imagine #thorin oakenshield x reader

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avaria-revallier · 4 years ago

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Chapter 9 - The truth

Masterpost

AO3

“Master Bofur,” she turned around in surprise.

The dwarf with the funny hat was leaning against the railing of the balcony. He stood in the shadows, only the gleaming of his pipe let her make out his position. The sweet scent of the pipeweed tickled her nostrils and slightly burned in her eyes.

Stepping out into the dark of the night, a welcoming cold made her shiver. Now that the lights of the hallway no longer blinded her she could see Bofur quite clear. Underneath his hat he never seemed to be without, she could spot the familiar smile on his lips. Knowing, a bit sad, but always ready to cheer her up.

His twin braids bounced as he stood up and stepped into the light. In his other hand she could spot a bottle of wine. Most likely it had been out of Lord Elrond's cellars, a present from Thranduil. Not that it mattered, the King of the Woodland Realm had more than enough in his own cellars. A shudder ran down her spine as she remembered the cold prison, the endless wandering through the halls and the continuous calling of the ring on her finger.

“Here,” he took off his cloak, hanging it over her shoulders and draping it in a motherly gesture around her.

The warmth of the large cloak was reassuring. Thorin's harsh words echoed through her mind. He said them in anger, but they still hurt like a knife to her heart. Bella had endured his cold glances and comments on her every move. She was used to them by now. Still, there had been this tiny bit of hope it might be different this time.

Her hands clutched the soft cloak, pulling it closer around her. Bofur had always been there for her. Looking out and after her. When she had dangled from the cliff he had been the first to search. When she was lost in the woods, he had been the first to notice.

Bella turned around, her gaze meeting his eyes. Yes, she could trust Bofur. She could tell him and he surely wouldn’t deem her mad. Taking a deep breath, she relaxed a bit.

“When Dwalin knocked on my door, I had the feeling as if I had woken up from a very long dream,” her gaze trailed off into the starry night sky, “I had dreamed of an adventure. I would leave my trusted home to run off into the blue. I would go onto a journey together with thirteen dwarrows and a wizard, to face a dragon. One of them would hold on to a map and a key, granting them access to a secret passageway into the mountain. On our way we would meet the elves, stumble into a fight between giants and escape from goblins. We would ride eagels and befriend a giant bear, run from long forgotten enemies only to lose our way temporarily. We would break out of a prison, to nearly drown. And finally… we would face the dragon,” she paused, turning around to look in his eyes.

After listening to her words Bofur eyed her carefully. There was something in the way she looked at him, something in the depth of her eyes he couldn’t identify. Her gaze wandered from his eyes to the floor and up to the stars again.

From his position it looked like there had been a veil surrounding her, which now was removed. Right now in this moment he could see the true her. Too curious about what she would tell him next, he didn’t dare to move nor ask all the questions that were burning on his tongue. Bofur only took another sip from his drink, waiting for her to continue.

“The dragon died… Erebor was reclaimed, but the worst was still to come,” her voice broke.

He could see her hands clenched around the railing, trembling. Suddenly the air felt cooler, the wind harsher and in the distance he could hear cries, and smell iron and wet earth. Her small silhouette looked bigger, stronger. She had the air of a steeled warrior around her, the aura of pain, loss and heartbreak.

Bofur swallowed, it felt as if there was a completely different person standing in front of him. This didn’t feel like the gentle hobbit lass he had traveled with. He realized that they knew nothing about her. Nothing about her past, nor her family or the reason why she joined them on their journey.

“The battle… I had never seen something like that before. So much death… Blood everywhere. I still have nightmares. Every night. I see them lying before me. Beaten, bloodied… dead. I was too late, we all came too late. I lost my friends, my family, my… love. I saw them die before my eyes, unable to stop it. If I just would have been a bit stronger, a bit faster!” her fist slammed down onto the cold stone, which made Bofur nearly jump, “I hear them cry, beg, accuse me every damn night,” again and again her hand slammed into the stone.

Her whole body started to tremble and he could hear the muffled sound of sobbs. She was crying, bitterly. Honestly. His hand was just about to touch her shoulder when she abruptly straightened herself. Her eyes fixed onto a point in the distance.

“I thought for a long time I might have lost my mind. I lost my mind and nobody would believe me. I apologise, it must be quite confusing for you. But this life is different. I will be fine even if I lose my mind. For them… for him, I don’t mind,” her voice trailed off, only leaving the grave-like silence of the night.

It took Bofur a moment to take in all the new information he had acquired. Wait… ‘love’? ‘for him’? He took a step closer. His back leaned against the railing, tapping out the pipe. The cheerful grin had vanished from his face. From his position he could see her face clearer. The full moon came forth between the clouds, illuminating her features and filling her eyes with a ghost-like silver shine.

“I believe you. This story is too crazy to be made up… Answer me just one question… who?” his eyes locked onto her, waiting for a response.

“He kissed me,” her voice broke as she gently brushed over her lower lip, “with his last breath he called me something. Even now I do not know the meaning of it. Out of fear, I guess. I don’t want it to hurt all the more,” a single tear ran down her cheek.

Bofur's stomach tied itself into a tight knot while his heart felt as if a giant, ice-cold hand was clenching it tightly. He bit his tongue so as not to ask the question burning like hot coals on his tongue.

“I tried!” she cried out, scaring two birds out of the trees, “I went to the far east, all the way up north and then down south. I climbed so many mountains and traveled the skies. I’ve been among the clouds. I tried it all, but I can’t get him out of my mind. I am not able to forget him because he is my home,” her voice broke again, turning into a suffocated sob.

Bofur did the only thing he could think of and pulled her into a tight hug. She was shaking like a scared rabbit facing a wolf. How had she been able to endure this madness all by herself? Without a second thought he brushed over her hair and back, trying to calm her down. Something wet hit his shirt and through all the sobbing and fabric he nearly overheard her words.

“He is so stubborn… always had been,” well, that applied to all dwarrows he knew of.

Dwalin? No, otherwise she wouldn’t have accepted him as her brother. Bombur had a wife and Bifur would have told him surely. Kili or Fili? Too young to worry about such things. Thorin? No. Thorin was, well, Thorin. His thoughts were interrupted by another wave of sobs.

“I-I love him. I do. I should have told him that. Even now I search for reasons to stay near him, to be close, because I need him. I don’t want to lose him again. I wouldn’t be able to survive that. I just... can’t,” he rubbed her back in circles as he had done so many times before with his family as they mourned the fallen.

“He was… He… He called me ‘amrâlimê’… Before he kissed me… Before he…” died, finished Bofur her sentence as her voice trailed off once more.

Bofur froze in his very motion. Did he hear correctly? Amrâlimê? Surely he had misheard. She shifted in his arms, stiffening. As she straightened herself his coat slipped off her shoulders. The sobbing had subsided and nothing but the faint red shadow around her eyes indicated that she had been crying.

“Stupid stubborn ass of a king,” he heard Bella mutter while staring up to the stars, “I made up my mind. I will no longer live in the past, because I can change the future.”

“Thorin?! You mean like in our Thorin?!” Bofur gaped at her, dropping his pipe, “Wait, wait, wait… this is… Thorin? Really?”

Fili and Kili had entered the grand hall some time earlier, proudly boasting about having gained a sister. They had whispered with Balin, stealing glances at Thorin. The king could have guessed what all of that was about. His guess was proven as Balin came over to him, a meaningful look in his eyes and a determined expression on his face.

“You have to talk to her, Thorin. She is essential to our quest. And all of us can see how you look at her, the glances you give her when you think nobody is looking, how you care for her wellbeing. Taking breaks when she tires, slipping parts of your rations into her pack and making sure she is safe when the path gets rough. I am advising you as a friend. You ought to do the right thing. Apologise. You know as well your words were too harsh. Best you don’t let my brother hear about this, or you may get more than just an earful,” Balin spoke in a stern voice.

The older dwarf patted Thorin on the shoulder before he left to join his brother. Thorin watched his company, his friends, merrily playing with the food, singing and enjoying themselves. Was Balin right? He did care for her and caught himself red-handed more often as time had gone by, watching the gentle creature. He made sure she slept near the fire and that she was never too far from him or Dwalin. He worried constantly when she rode alone in the back or disappeared in the evenings. He gritted his teeth when he saw the hobbit lass hugging Dwalin or sleeping nestled in the other dwarves’ arms.

Bofur had just slipped back inside as Balin had finished his lecture. Immediately the mood got a bit lighter. It might have been his cheerful personality, but more likely the message he brought with him.

“Aye, our lady is all better and hungry like a little pebble!”

Thorin relaxed and exhaled the breath he had held in. He raised his head as two familiar, furry boots stopped right in front of him. The dwarf owning the shoes wore a completely unusual expression on his face. Was that grief and deep-rooted pain he spotted behind his brown beard?

“You better not ruin it again. She had been through more than enough already. Most of which was your fault!” Bofur grumbled, right before turning around and squeezing himself between Bombur and Oin.

Thorin had no time to answer, nor to fully process what was going on. Suddenly the room went silent. The dwarrows turned their heads, just like they had done when Bofur entered. Gandalf and Lord Elrond interrupted their conversation to watch the hobbit lass enter.

She was wearing a plain white dress, the curly hair openly flowing over her back. Mahal, she was beautiful. How come she could converse with the other dwarrows so naturally? How come she could smile so easily with them? How was she able to converse with those bloody elves?!

He wasn’t staring, was he? Hastily he looked away, but his gaze would always be drawn right back to her. Thorin noticed the red puffiness around her eyes, the faint biting marks on her lower lip and the slight tremble of her fingers whenever she gestured or pointed something out. She didn’t eat as much as she would need to.

Wait, was she coming over? After all he had said, how could she still come over so casually? He had obviously hurt her very much, he had no right to talk to her, no right to see her.

Once again he caught himself staring. He lowered his head, inspecting the tips of his shoes with way too much interest. Two furry large feet stopped right in front of him. The room went quiet, if it was due to Bofur jumping on the table or being close to the burglar, he did not know.

“May I have this dance?” the soft voice of his burglar brought him back.

Like an idiot he stared at her extended hand. Such a small palm, slender fingers and soft skin. How could he have brought this gentle creature on their quest? Now her skin was bruised and split open where the hilt of the sword had dug deep into her flesh. He had no right to ruin her life. Bofur was right. So why, why couldn’t he say no to those eyes?!

“My pleasure,” he grumbled into his beard, she probably wouldn’t have understood it.

To his surprise she giggled, grabbed his hand with much more strength than he would have ever thought she could possess and dragged him into the center of the room.

Bella placed her hands in the rough palms of the dwarven king, a warm tingly feeling rushing through her body. This was like a dream coming true. It had been so long since she had danced, danced with her love and a heart lighter than a feather.

Bofur's song cleared her head and filled her with joy. She lifted her head and their eyes met. It felt just like back then, but this time his hands were warm, no blood wetted the ground and she wasn’t losing him.

“I love you, Thorin Oakenshield, always have and always will. When you left me I never thought I might get another chance to ever see you again, but here we are. Together once more. When you entered my home for the second time now, I considered just not letting you leave. But for that to happen I most likely would have needed to break your legs. I also thought about letting you leave on this cursed mission of yours, but the uncertainty of what might have happened to you would have brought me to the grave. So I came along. And I would have followed you a thousand times more. I can’t stand a world without you any longer, I experienced it once, that was more than enough,” she looked him in the eyes, the words withering on her tongue like a whispered cry for help, and pressed her lips tightly together, swallowing the truth and with that her feelings.

Not a single word left her mouth.

His face was straight, unmoved by the dance, by the music… by her. Only in his eyes she could spot the hint of something familiar. For a moment there he looked just like ‘her’ Thorin. But he wasn’t ‘him’.

“I-” he averted his gaze from her eyes, “I should apologize for my rude outburst earlier, I-” she interrupted him by letting go of his hands and stopping their aimless spinning through the room. She opened her mouth as if to say something and nearly set free the words she had held back earlier. Instead she raised her hand, telling him to wait.

“I missed this, I missed you. And no matter what you say I will follow you. I will not let you die again,” she spoke, staring in his deep blue eyes, her vision slightly blurred from another wave of tears, but a smile let her glow from the inside out.

This would have to be enough for the moment. Yes, this was fine. Being able to stand by his side was enough for now.

Thorin flinched at her honest statement, the meaning of her words still hadn’t reached him fully. She missed him? How could she have missed him? He had never met her before that day he had knocked on her door, before he had dragged this gentle creature out of her home and her peaceful life.

For a moment his mind wandered back to the second he first laid eyes on the small hobbit lass. So soft and weak, yet headstrong and fiercer than a cornered dragon. Beautiful. So beautiful he couldn’t help but to stare. He had been rude and mean even though she had shared her home and food with them.

Even now he could only stare at her, stare at this wonderful creature Mahal had let him meet. He wanted to say something, ask her what she meant. Ask her why she would miss him, why she was able to make him question all his decisions, even himself. Ask his hobbit how she was able to give him the feeling of home, of peace.

“I am still a bit drowsy and the wounds keep acting up, so I should probably retire early today,” she said apologetically.

Both of them knew it was not true. She moved too fluently, too gracefully in the king's eyes for her injuries to still hinder her. She bit her lip again, like she did more often these days, forcing herself to smile at him, hoping her face looked reassuring and calm and not like the painful grimace it felt like.

His hand twitched. He needed all his willpower not to just grab her and trace the bite marks on her lower lip with his thumb until they disappeared. A thousand promises and ideas rushed through his mind, which he could whisper into her ears to make her forget the sadness, the pain, his own idiotic behaviour. He just wanted to see her smile again.

“Bel… Bella-”

“Good night, master Oakenshield.”

She didn’t even call him by his name. This fact felt like one of Dwalin’s punches right in the stomach. Why did she not call him like she had when they had first met and when the trolls had attacked them. Thorin would never admit it to himself, but it felt right when she called him by his name, he felt at peace.

Only now the whole meaning of the words she had spoken earlier reached him. That last sentence she had whispered, what was the meaning of her words? Not letting him die… ‘again’?! Something was not right. Before he could even try following her, a large muscular figure stepped into his way.

“What did you say to my sister? She left so fast I wasn’t even able to speak to her.”

His best friend towered over him. With a short nod towards the king's nephews, Dwalin managed to send them after the hobbit. Thorin worried about her wellbeing more than he would like to admit, she hadn’t eaten nearly enough. Maybe it would be better to follow her, after all. Sure, his nephews would look after their new sister like Dori watched over Ori, still… there was this uneasiness inside him, whenever Bella was out of sight.

“Tell me the truth, Thorin. Do you like her?”

Masterpost

AO3

@stuckupstucky @shrimpsthings

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icicleteeth · 4 years ago

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can u pls tell us more about Krad!! i think he's nifty 🥺

Aaaa oh my goodness, of course! ;_; Though I’m going to put it under a cut because you have activated the trap card of Teeth Infodumps About Her Baby and I don’t want to clog the dash too much fjdlfjs

So! I’m not quite sure where to start, but Krad is a species of elf called a Lloren (though they are only colloquially known as dark elves in my story’s universe) They came into existence when an elf god bargained with the elves (elves are the dominant race in my story) to give them a blessing if they agree to also accept a curse. The blessing they received was demigod race of elves called golden elves who brought magic to the land, and the curse was a race of elf eating carnivorous and vicious elves called dark elves. Not much is known about dark elves other than they’re giant 7 feet tall monsters that hunt elves for prey, have giant sharp teeth, big predator feline eyes, spiky sharp talon claws, and should be avoided at all costs.

(Old rough chart of different Lloren and their king, though Three Fang is a whole other story fjdljs)

(+ Lloren anatomy as illustrated by an elven child)

Chronologically where the story takes place in universe, a method of “purifying” dark elves who wish to integrate into elf society has recently been discovered and used, and Krad is one of the first purified dark elves to exist, though he’s not exactly a free elf. He lives as a servant beneath a golden elf master (yes, I copied aspects of my passion project when writing MS, haha) and is actually a very strange dark elf, though he nor many others know it. He’s 4′11″ (very tiny for a dark elf) and only 2 years old (Lloren are born through magical means, and are born “fully grown”. They also lack sexual and reproductive organs because they reproduce asexually through feeding their blood to magic lanterns) He also has really short tiny claws, which is also abnormal for others of his kind (seen really well here through art my friend made; only uncredited as she doesn’t use social media)

(Yes the onion thing is because I compared Krad to Shrek unironically djflsjf)

Krad was captured and taken into captivity a few days after he was born, in which he unknowingly wandered outside of the caverns leading to the dark elf nest/city in the opposite direction to the world above ground, got too close to a city, and was swiftly captured and sentenced to life in prison. He was only released and taken in as a specimen when his golden elf master urged the city to let him study it for...purposes. A year later, purification is pioneered, and Krad is one of the first to be purified and (though in law only) accepted into polite society.

He may be a purified dark elf and was raised to be a normal behaved elf who doesn’t want to eat people, the general culture regarding dark elves still overwhelmingly sees them as bloodthirsty killers and monsters, as the purification process is still relatively new, and people aren’t used to co-existing with a species that was feared and reviled for generations. Krad understands this to a degree, but given how young he is and how little he knows about dark elves himself (having never grown up or meeting with any other Lloren) he’s upset that no matter how much he acts just like a normal polite elf, he’s treated like a sub-human beast and hated on sight. Over time he grows bitter and unwilling to be polite or nice anymore, and for the most part he acts like a bratty child (partly because he is, age-wise, a literal toddler).

Some other things about him: he never smiles, “Krad” is a name he gave himself (though nobody except his little lizard friend actually respects him enough to use his name; he’s given a new one every story/chapter, and all of them are derogatory/degrading), and by the end of the story, he saves the world without receiving any credit or recognition for it, though he prefers it this way. Nobody would believe a monster could do any good for the world, anyway...

#i tried to keep this short and yet it still turned out this long fjdlsj #and that's with me leaving out a ton of stuff so this post doesn't get too bloated...#krad really is the one thing that gets me Rambling Like Nobody's Business #Anonymous

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slytherinknowitall · 4 years ago

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Potion Fumes and Cauldron Leaks

Chapter 19: A Festive Farewell

(Click here for chapter 18!)

(Click here to start from the beginning!)

Disclaimer: I don’t own the “Harry Potter” book series. The story of “Harry Potter” is the property of J. K. Rowling, it is not my intellectual property. There is no financial gain made from this nor will any be sought. This is for entertainment purposes only.

There were many reasons why Severus hated Christmas.

To begin with, he loathed most customs associated with the festivity. Gifts were only given out of a sense of obligation, Christmas cards were completely pointless as they only gathered dust for a few weeks before one was able to throw them away without having to feel guilty, and let’s not even mention those annoying Christmas carols. For some reason, people also suddenly seemed to think that the season was the perfect time to get friendly with him and try to involve him in all sorts of “fun” activities – how absurd! And while he normally greatly enjoyed any time he got away from his bothersome pupils, the headmaster still always found a way to ruin it somehow. Not only did the old coot get crazier with his decorations every year, but he also forced Severus to take part in the annual Christmas dinner. However, what the professor found the most ridiculous was that the wizarding world would even celebrate a holiday based on the religious beliefs of Muggles. He could understand how those who grew up in or married into Muggle families might want to carry on those traditions, of course. But these days, even pure-bloods participated, and that was just ludicrous. But if he was being completely honest with himself, he really just disliked anything that reminded him of his childhood in the non-magical world.

This year, however, Severus had a whole new reason to hate Christmas. As one of the school’s Heads of House, this morning he had received a copy of the list of students who wished to stay in the castle over the holidays. But even after reading through it three times, he had not been able to find Hermione’s name on it anywhere; and while he would have never admitted that that was the cause, he had been in a sullen mood ever since. The prospect of not seeing her, of not talking to her for two whole weeks made his heart ache.

At present, the Potions Master was sitting at his desk and quietly watching as his sixth-years were streaming out of his classroom. To give the students enough time to make their way to Hogsmeade Station, the last day of the first term traditionally consisted of only the first period. Once the last pupil had left, Severus got up and walked into the storage room. He always liked to use the holidays to reorganise the small space and get it ready for the next semester.

But only a few minutes later, his work flow was interrupted when he suddenly heard the door to his classroom open. Stepping out of the storage room, he soon laid eyes upon the figure of Hogwarts’ Head Girl. She was standing a few feet away from him in the middle of the empty room, her round face makeup-free and her unruly hair pulled back into a half-updo. It seemed like she was already dressed for the long train ride back to King’s Cross: she was wearing a pair of casual jeans, ankle booties made of leather, a nude sweater and a light blue coat so big that it was threatening to swallow her small frame. As always, she was looking absolutely stunning.

“What are you doing here?” Severus spat. Seeing her now was only making his emotional turmoil worse.

Hermione was obviously taken aback by his reaction. “I came to say goodbye. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I did not sign up to stay over the holidays this year.”

“Oh, I’ve noticed,” he mumbled under his breath.

She gave him a confused look. “Um, well, I would have told you earlier, but it was kind of a last-minute decision. Yesterday, Ginny persuaded me to spend Christmas with her family at the Burrow, and so I had Professor McGonagall take my name off the list. Harry will be there, too, and I thought that maybe I could use this time to try and patch things up with Ron.”

Argh – whenever he heard that name, Severus could not help but instantly feel annoyed. He was starting to dislike Weasley almost as much as James Potter. He would never understand why someone as smart and amazing as Hermione Granger would want to be friends with a numskull like that.

“But before I leave, I just wanted to give you this.”

Severus watched as she pulled out a small metal tin from the pocket of her coat and handed it to him.

“What is this?” he asked before carefully unfastening the bow tied around it and lifting the lid. “… Biscuits?”

“I know it’s not much, but I wanted to give you something to show my appreciation, and this was the only thing I could make on such short notice.”

He raised his bushy eyebrows in surprise. “You made these?”

“Yes!” She let out a joyous laughter. “The house elves normally don’t let anyone touch their pots and pans, but I guess they’re still a bit terrified of me because of my past S.P.E.W. efforts. As long as I promised not to slip them any socks or hats, they gave me free rein to use their workspace. So this morning before breakfast, I sneaked out of my tower, baked these and used a static charm to keep them warm.”

Severus had to suppress a smirk. Oh yes, he still vividly remembered how she had used to so fiercely campaign for the rights of those magical creatures during her fourth year. It had been a pointless endeavour, of course, as the majority of house elves were submissive by nature and wanted to serve a master; but he still secretly admired her persistence and kind-heartedness. He picked up one of the cookies.

“Mmm,” he said as he took a big bite, a nutty flavour filling his mouth. “I have to admit that these are rather delicious. It seems as though your culinary capabilities are just as good as your brewing skills."

“Thank you for the compliment, sir, but I’m normally quite the disaster in the kitchen, honestly. But thank Merlin that not even a cook as disastrous as me could ever mess up this foolproof recipe from –“ Hermione made an abrupt pause, her smile disappearing from her face. “From my mother.”

The wizard frowned – why was she sad all of a sudden? But before he could ask her about it, the young woman took one look at her watch and immediately gasped.

“Oh no, I’ll have to hurry if I don’t want to miss the train!” Biting her lip, her gaze wandered to the ground. Was she blushing? “But before I say goodbye, there is one more thing I’d like to do …”

Severus eyed his young apprentice with suspicion. As an experienced teacher of well over a decade and a half, he was all too familiar with the look she had on her face – it was the look of a student who was definitely up to something mischievous. But even so, he was not at all prepared for what happened next as Hermione stepped forward and embraced him in a hug so warm it could have melted mid-winter snow.

“I wish you a very happy Christmas, Professor Snape,” she whispered against his chest. “Being able to study under you is and will always be the greatest gift!”

For a split second, Severus was paralysed by the sudden intimacy. But then, one hand around her petite waist and the other entangled in her hair, he pulled her closer.

“Happy Christmas, Hermione,” he muttered back, inhaling the clean scent of her perfume.

And as he watched her disappear through the door not even a minute later, his cold, bitter heart felt just a little bit warmer.

(CHAPTER 20 COMING SOON!)

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marvelhead17 · 3 years ago

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The Tale of Eossimar (Original Female Character x Bofur Fic)

Chapter 9

Word Count: 7.8k

Warnings to cover the whole fic: Fake relationships, half-blood children, mild violence, fight scenes, male/male relationships, Dwarf gender concepts, battle of five armies fix-it, pre-battle of five armies, near death incidents, talking to dead people, mentions of paradise/heaven.

As the sun rose that morning, Bofur and the others began to gear up without argument in the dimly lit rooms deep inside Erebor, fixing their braiding to ensure it was tight for the battle to come and securing their armour properly.

Out of habit Bofur scanned over his shoulder for Bilbo, for a moment he had worried but he relaxed when he found him standing with Thorin, he was being handed chain armour. Bofur swallowed as he understood that Thorin was meaning that the poor hobbit was to fight alongside them, even though he had no personal ties to Erebor.

They approached the rampart only to discover that they were faced with hundreds upon hundreds of Elves at their gate, King Thranduil rode confidently on his stag followed closely by Bard on his horse, and they easily passed in the middle of them.

Bofur was amazed by how uniform the soldiers were, as they stepped aside to let their King pass through without even turning their heads, before they fell back into place once again. As the two stopped in front of their armies Thorin raised his bow and arrow in hand, firing a quick warning shot at the feet of Thranduil’s stag.

“I will put the next one between your eyes,” he warned and the company laughed confidently, even Bofur found himself laughing at the sudden surprise in the Elf King’s eyes.

He felt his laughter die as soon as he recalled Nari saying the same threat to Prince Legolas not so long ago and his amusement quickly became dampened.

King Thranduil barely bobbed his head when his troops moved in synchronisation, and all readied their arrows at the dwarves, the company ducked down behind the ridges of the wall in panic, while their leader remained standing as he stared at Thranduil. The dwarves remained silent as they held their breaths, Thranduil raised his hand in the air and his men lowered their weapons.

“We have come to tell you, payment of your debt has been offered, and accepted.” Thranduil informed him, and the members slowly raised their heads over the wall in confusion.

“What payment? I gave you nothing, you have nothing.” He still held his next arrow at the ready.

Thranduil’s brows pricked up and he swept his gaze to Bard on his left briefly, the man dug into his inner coat and pulled out something that glistened in the sunlight, before raising it in the air for them to see it clearly.

“We have this,” Bard said, Thorin’s eyes widened and he lowered his weapon.

“They have the Arkenstone, thieves!” Kíli shouted, “How came you by the heirloom of our house? That belongs to the King!”

“And the King may have it,” he tossed the precious stone in the air playfully as it had no value to him, “With our good will,” and then tucked it back safely in his pocket. “But first, he must honour his word.”

Thorin shook his head as he whispered, “They are taking us for fools. This is a ruse, a filthy lie,” he spoke louder in spite of the dwarves’ disbelief, “The Arkenstone is in this Mountain! It is a trick!”

“It’s no trick, the stone is real, I gave it to them,” Bilbo informed him; the King froze for a moment and then faced the hobbit with a mad look in his eyes.

“You?” he questioned in disbelief.

“I took it as my fourteenth share,” Bilbo blinked several times as he tried to maintain his eye contact.

“You would steal from me?” His voice was harsh as he spoke.

“Steal from you? No, no,” he shook his head, “I may be a burglar, but I like to think I’m an honest one.” He stifled a little laugh through his nose, rocking nervously on the balls of his feet. “I’m willing to let it stand against my claim,”

“Against your claim? Your claim.” He gave Bilbo a mocking smile, “You have no claim over me, you miserable rat!” he threw down the bow and arrow, stepping closer to Bilbo as he did.

“I was going to tell you. Many times I wanted to, but-”

“But what, thief?” he growled.

“You are changed,Thorin.” He spoke sternly, “The dwarf I met in Bag-End would never have gone back on his word, would never have doubted the loyalty of his kin!”

“Do not speak to me of loyalty,” Thorin’s eyes began to well up, and he edged even closer to Bilbo, making Bofur’s heart pound relentlessly. “Throw him from the rampart!” he pointed at him, his eyes roamed over the rest of the group as nobody made to move to the fearful hobbit.

Thorin frowned back at them, grabbing Fíli by his chest plate, “Did you not hear me?!” he yelled and was taken aback when Fíli fought against him and pushed away, stepping back next to Balin. He looked around desperately, and then turned to face Bilbo, “I will do it myself. Curse you!” he seized him and forced him towards the edge of the wall.

Fíli, Bifur and Bofur all reached out in an attempt to rescue the hobbit as he struggled against the King’s grasp. “Cursed be the Wizard that forced you on this company!” he shoved Bilbo against the wall and the hobbit let out a scream.

“If you don’t like my burglar then please, don’t damage him.” Gandalf’s voice boomed over the panic and they all looked down, “Return him to me,” Thorin only stared blankly at the wizard who settled next to Bard and Thranduil, while Bilbo panted anxiously away. “You’re not making a very splendid figure as King under the Mountain are you, Thorin, son of Thráin?”

Thorin released the hobbit from his grasp and he nearly dropped face first into the ground, had it not been for Fíli and Bofur helping him, Bofur took him by the arm and guided him away while the King was distracted.

“Never again will I have dealings with Wizards!”

“Go,” Bofur whispered, encouraging Bilbo to leave with a gentle nudge.

“Or Shire rats!”

Bilbo tossed the rope that was attached to the wall over the edge, hastily climbing over and making a quick escape down the rope.

“Are we resolved, the return of the Arkenstone, for what was promised?” Bard asked, Thorin took uneven breaths as he stared out to the hills on the left, which were empty as far as Bofur could tell. “Give us your answer, will you have peace, or war?”

A raven landed in front of Thorin, cawing away as it eyed him, he faced them and without hesitation said, “I will have war.”

The guard had already bid their families goodbye as the sun shone over the mountain and cast a glow down on them, Callon led them through the tunnel that had once been abandoned and Nari watched as they walked on, she nodded at the more familiar faces that passed her way.

As the last of them went through Nari looked behind to ensure that no villager strayed their way, and she placed the warning sign back down where it had been for many years before, and then followed behind them. She raised her hand to cover her eyes as the sun was much brighter once they reached the opening of the tunnel. They gathered formally and she walked around to stand in front of them, a little surprised by the sheer number that were among them for a small village.

She was about to address them when a shadow flew over her head, she squinted up and raised her arm to let the owl land. She nipped at her owner’s ear and chirped; Nari listened carefully and smiled at Screech, raising her arm to let the owl roam free, and then facing her people once more.

“It’s good to see so many of us are here this morning, in actual fact I’m quite surprised by the number of ye,” some let out a little chuckle, “Those of ye who know of my little pet will know that she often brings me news from the outside, and I’ve just learned that the people of Lake-Town have made settlement within the old City of Dale,” a few people now muttered and she cleared her throat.

“And for many of ye, it was once the home to previous generations of yer families, and for others it was where yer parents were able to make a living from their craft.” They nodded their agreements, “Since there are so many of us, I’d like at least half of ye to go to Dale, the people there have suffered enough grievances these past days and they are essentially defenceless.”

Callon walked up next to his sister, “Now we have no idea what we may be facing out there today, it could be the usual orc scum or something much worse. What we do know is, we must protect the line of Durin so that the Kingdom may be opened and thrive once again. Now who’s with me?” he raised his fist in the air and they cheered enthusiastically.

Nari couldn’t help the grin that grew on her face as she looked to the Eossimarians, she walked down to a familiar face and placed a hand on the elf’s shoulder, and she turned around in surprise, smiling at Nari when she caught sight of her.

“Elanor, I’d like ye to lead the troop to Dale, if ye don’t mind,”

Her mouth fell open slightly, “Are you certain Nari?”

“Very, ye’re our best archer, and a good leader, take the archers and others to Dale,” she nodded, “I know they’ll be safe in yer hands,” she patted her on the arm lightly and smiled, and Elanor returned the gesture, Nari looked around, “I want the archers to follow Elanor, and I’ll need a few who can fight on the ground to go with her as well,” she instructed.

After a few moments of indecision they split into two groups, with Elanor waving her half on to head towards Dale, she gave a final nod to Nari before they vanished into the trees.

“What about the rest of us?”

“We are going to defend Erebor,” Nari moved to brush some low-hanging branches out of the way, “Callon, lead on,” they followed immediately after him as he moved hurriedly, and Nari made sure the last people were through before she ran around to catch up with her brother.

She turned to face the guard while walking backward continuously, “I want ye to be on high alert, look out for each other, ye all have families that want yer safe return. Are we understood?”

“Aye!” they chanted and marched forward steadily upon catching the Mountain in their line of sight.

There was clanking and stomping resonating suddenly on the hills to the left as a new army made an approach to the scene, Dwalin noticed Bofur’s puzzlement and he leaned over, speaking quietly, “Dáin, of the Iron Hills, Thorin’s cousin,” the dwarf nodded in understanding and stared at the army, his cousin Bifur roared triumphantly just behind him with a few other members.

The Elves immediately turned their stance away from Erebor, and marched right on to meet the Dwarven army, before bringing themselves to a standstill as the Dwarves also made their stop behind their leader.

“Good morning, how are we all?” A fiery red headed dwarf, Dáin, Bofur assumed addressed the masses rather sarcastically. “I have a wee proposition, if ye wouldn’t mind giving me a few moments of yer time.” He leaned forward on his war pig, “Would ye consider, just… sodding off?!” he yelled the last words out, unsettling the Men so much that they stepped back in fear.

“All of ye! Right now!” he barked.

“Stand fast!” Bard ordered his men.

“Come now, Lord Dáin,” Gandalf approached the Dwarves through the crowds.

“Gandalf the Grey,” Dáin greeted coldly, “Tell this rabble to leave, or I’ll water the ground with their blood!”

“There is no need for war between Dwarves, Men and Elves,” Gandalf insisted as he moved closer, in hopes of reasoning with the dwarf, “A legion of Orcs march on the Mountain. Stand your army down.”

“I will not stand down before any Elf, not least this faithless Woodland sprite,” he glared as he pointed to the King Thranduil with his large hammer, “He wishes nothing but ill upon my people, if he chooses to stand between me and my kin… I’ll split his pretty head open! See if he’s still smirking then!”

Bofur looked over and confirmed that Thranduil was indeed smirking at the dwarf Lord, the other members cheered on their kin defending them, and Bofur looked to his brother and saw that he too looked uneasy about it all.

“He’s clearly mad, like his cousin,” the elf king responded coolly.

“Ye hear that, lads? We’re on!” Dáin turned around on his pig to face his army, waving his hammer as he moved along, “Let’s give these bastards a good hammering!” His commander gave orders in Khuzdul and the army yelled out their response, raising their weapons to prepare themselves.

A rumbling echoed from underground near another mountain range, the cracking of breaking earth sounded thunderous as the ground burst open, enormous Earth-eaters roared as they crushed the chunks of land in their mouths.

“Oh, come on!” Dáin yelled.

Bofur couldn’t believe his eyes as the worms receded into the ground from whence they came, a horn drew his attention away as his eyes fell upon Azog on top of an abandoned watch tower; his arms were raised as he yelled out his commands and his armies marched forward.

“The hordes of Hell are upon us. To battle! To battle, sons of Durin!” Dáin yelled as he led his army forward to the swells of orcs.

“I’m going over the wall, who’s coming with me?” Fíli asked as he raised his sword in the air.

“Aye!”

“Yes!”

“Come on, let’s go!” Dwalin yelled eagerly.

“Stand down.” Thorin ordered.

“What? Are we to do nothing?” Fíli questioned his Uncle.

“I said, stand down!” he yelled at his nephew, and then he moved down the stairs without looking back at them, Fíli looked over to Balin whose gaze grew anxious as he looked at the dwarves charging forward. “I want all of you inside, now!”

They moved slowly down from the rampart, Bofur decidedly taking his time as best as he could, he stopped when he realised that the Elves had not moved from their position and watched Gandalf move to the Elf King.

“Thranduil, this is madness!” he insisted, as the Dwarves formed a barricade with their shields while the orcs stormed forward without fear.

Their commander announced that their duties were to Erebor and the King, and that they were to hold their positions, the soldiers reaffirmed their pledges with a cry. Bofur swore that he had barely blinked when he realised that the Elven army had used the Dwarves as a ramp to glide over them weightlessly, and even before they landed on the ground had begun slaying some of the orc army down.

The dwarves stood up soon after and the two races fought side by side against the orcs, the figures all swarmed together into one chaotic mess, had it not been for the golden coloured armour it would have been impossible to set the Elves apart from the Dwarves.

“Bofur,” a rough voice called and he cleared his head with a shake, rushing down the stairs quickly, he came to a standstill as he came face to face with Thorin; the King glared daggers at him. “You think I have not seen how distracted you’ve become? Your little friend Nari has left long ago, I would not expect her to be returning any time soon,” he growled.

“It would be best for you not to pursue whatever interests you think you have with her, if you wish to stay in these grounds, am I being clear?”

“A-Aye, Thorin, very,” he swallowed nervously, walking carefully around him to join the others as they gathered further away.

“What was that about?” Bombur asked, Bofur shook his head and avoided looking at him.

“It’s nothing; don’t worry yerself about it,”

Nari and the guard arrived in time to see the Elves and Dwarves merge together in battle, much to her surprise, and she faced her people as she raised her sword in the air. “[For Erebor!]”

“Erebor!” they yelled, and sprinted forward to the battle, they easily blended in amongst the chaos and began aiding in the killing of the orcs with the rest.

Nari and Callon fought side by side, watching each other’s backs and killing off orcs easily as a team, it seemed to be going well so far and yet, something was nagging her in the back of her mind.

Another section of Thranduil’s army moved into position and fired arrows at the orcs to the back on their King’s command; she briefly lost her focus when a horn sounded in the distance; she traced the noise to its origin and spotted Azog standing high above the battle almost cockily. A flag pole changed its signal, and the orc leader belted out his orders, the cries of another army sounded not too far away and they marched in the direction of Dale.

Her brother slayed an orc that had been approaching her from behind and moved to her line of vision, “Good thing ye sent half the guard to Dale,” he remarked and she nodded as she saw the people of Lake-Town back away from the battle slowly.

She hadn’t even realised that they were fighting between all the soldiers, “All of you, fall back to Dale. Now!” Bard ordered and she smiled to herself, knowing he was making good decisions for his people already; she killed a few more orcs and looked over her shoulder every so often to see what was happening near the ruined city.

Giant trolls with catapults strapped to their backsides raced towards Dale, stopping not too far off and launched boulders that crumbled the walls beneath them, and an even larger one with a stone tied down to his head ran straight into a solid wall and fell dead into the ground. The orcs charged into the city as the citizens screamed in terror, and Nari silently thanked Mahal that she had made the right decision by sending some of her people there.

“Ye buggers!” a dwarf cursed behind them as he leaped off of his war pig which had been stabbed, “I’ll show ye!” he used his head to knock down several orcs with ease, attacking with even more fury than he had before, “Where’s Thorin? We need him, where is he?”

She looked at her brother, “Seems the King has become cowardly in the face of war,”

“What do ye mean?” Callon asked as he took down another orc next to him.

“I think they’re all still pent up inside Erebor, I have yet to see any of the company out here,” she kicked down an orc that tried to approach and stabbed it in the back of its head.

“That’s a relief, they’ve not been found then,” he quickly sliced the throat of an orc that snuck up behind him.

“They’ll be trapped if they find a way in though,” Nari informed him.

“Should we go in then?”

“Aye,” she moved forward through the mess and took down a few more orcs as she went along, her brother following closely behind.

Dwalin approached Thorin angrily while he was brooding on his throne. “Since when do we forsake our own people? Thorin, they are dying out there.” But Thorin seemed distracted as his eyes wandered around the room.

“There are halls beneath halls within this Mountain. Places we can fortify… shore up make safe. Yes,” he stood from his throne and reached out to Dwalin as he walked forward a little unsteadily. “Yes, that is it. We must move the gold further underground to safety.”

He turned away to look down to where the gold was down below in the caverns, and Dwalin found that his eyes were tearing up as his anger only grew, he grabbed Thorin by the shoulder.

“Did ye not hear me? Dáin is surrounded. They’re being slaughtered, Thorin.” He stepped back as Thorin searched his face, as if almost looking at a stranger.

“Many die in war, life is cheap. But a treasure such as this, cannot be counted in lives lost,” he waved his friends' concerns away, “It is worth all the blood we can spend.”

Dwalin scoffed, “Ye sit here in these vast halls with a crown upon yer head, and yet ye are lesser now than ye have ever been.”

“Do not speak to me as if I were some lowly Dwarf Lord, as if,” his voice quivered as he spoke, “I were still, Thorin Oakenshield,” his voice cracked as he turned away and he bent over to the side, Dwalin remained at a distance and stepped back when Thorin swung out his sword haphazardly and missed his target. “I am your King!”

“Ye were always my King, ye used to know that once. Ye cannot see what ye have become. Nari was right, ye’re sick Thorin.”

“Go. Get out. Before I kill you.” His voice remained steady as he spoke this time; they locked eyes for a moment before Dwalin walked away in disappointment.

He reached the others and they looked up in hope but Dwalin’s face made it clear to them, “I fear that we’ve lost him for good, he threatened my life.”

“That is not the sign we needed,” Balin shook his head.

“Can’t we do something, anything, to make him see?” Fíli stood.

“No laddie, I’m afraid not,” Balin placed his hand on the young dwarf’s shoulder.

The group sat in silence, staring at the ground as the screams from the battle ensued; Bofur remained on the rampart as he tried to scan the scene to ease the twisting in his gut. He was soon joined by Dwalin and Balin who stood on either side of him, they all nodded at one another.

Kíli pricked his head as he noticed movement ahead of them, he recognised his Uncle’s form and stood up from his spot, the fury boiling in his blood encouraged him to approach Thorin fearlessly.

“I will not hide behind a wall of stone while others fight our battles for us!” he yelled, though Thorin moved forward wordlessly. “It is not in my blood, Thorin.”

“No. It is not,” Thorin agreed, stopping before his nephew, “We are sons of Durin, and Durin’s Folk do not flee from a fight.” He smiled slowly as he met Kíli’s gaze, his lip was twitching beyond his control.

They pressed their foreheads together before Thorin patted him on the shoulder and moved to stand in front of the others, and his nephew raised his fist in success behind his back.

“I have no right to ask this of any of you. But will you follow me, one last time?” he asked them, and they all smiled and raised their weapons wordlessly.

The Eossimarian guard fell in between Dain and his troops, for the Elves had left for Dale, and they now realised that they were severely outnumbered. Dain’s dwarves began chanting in unison and the guard joined in while the orc army began to line up in front of them, even larger orcs made their way to the frontlines with clubs in hand, unmistakably weaponised to clear buildings.

Just as Azog gave the order a trumpet sounded clearly above them, Nari glanced up and saw Bombur blowing into the instrument and felt a laugh bubble up inside with a mix of relief, a bell rang out and she frowned before the enormous object burst through the barricade and collapsed it.

The company emerged from wreckage crying out as they ran directly towards the orcs, and Dain’s army moved aside to let them pass through.

“To the King, to the King!” the dwarf they had seen earlier cried out, rallying his troops forward.

Nari and Callon looked at each other and smiled, before joining in the attack against the orcs and really giving their all as they swung their blades. She managed to get close enough to Thorin in time before they were surrounded.

“Thorin, it’s good to see ye!” she called out and he killed off an orc before turning around to speak with her.

“You came back, after everything I said to you?”

“Course I did, I was keeping my word,”

“Thank you.” He placed a hand on her shoulder, and the two of them bowed their heads briefly before returning to the fight. “Dáin!” Thorin yelled out.

“Thorin! Hold on, I’m coming!” He rode on the backside of an orc while killing others, they hugged for a moment and he frowned for a moment when his eyes landed on Nari, but he decided it wasn’t the time to question it. “Hey Cousin, what took ye so long?”

“Admittedly I was under duress,”

“No matter, there’s too many of these buggers, Thorin,” he gestured around them, “I hope ye’ve got a plan…”

Nari and Callon had drifted further down into the fight, working alongside members of the company as they struggled against what seemed to be an endless wave of the creatures.

“Aye, we’re going to take out their leader.” He stared up to where Azog stood proudly on the old tower.

“Azog?” Dáin’s jaw slackened as he stared wide-eyed at his cousin, who managed to get hold of a war ram and sat confidently.

“I’m going to kill that piece of filth,” he promised, and then rode towards the rocky hillside, taking off the heads of orcs along the path with him.

As if Dwalin, Fíli and Kíli had read their King’s mind, they followed him on their own rams. “Lead on!” Dwalin said as they raced on with speed.

“Callon, let’s go!” Nari called.

“Where?”

“That peak,” she pointed to where Azog stood, “Azog must have planned for every move we’ve made here so far, and I don’t like that they’ll be isolated up there.”

He agreed and they ran on, quickly passing behind Bofur and his brother, Nari took out an orc that had tried to attack Bofur from behind, and the dwarf turned just in time to see her vanish before he could thank or even question her. He grunted as he swung another deadly blow to an enemy.

They ran up the rocky hills as fast as they could on foot, Thorin and the others were already at the top for some time before them and she worried that they may be in danger.

“I’ll bet my life that he’s set something up there.”

“Ye’re probably right, but on a day like this, I would not be wagering my life about as if it were nothing sister,”

“Don’t fret brother, we both know I can take care of myself,” they reached the top and were assaulted by hordes of goblins, and had to fight their way through.

“We must hurry!”

“These goblins won’t kill themselves ye know!” she grunted as she killed off a few more of the creatures.

“Something is wrong, I feel it,” he helped to kill off more of them, and then grabbed her hand and pulled her along after him.

They reached a broken down tower that curved slightly over the frozen river, giving them quicker access across the way if they needed it, Callon climbed further up to get a better view as the area was covered.

“Damn this fog, I can’t see much of anything,”

“Do ye hear that?” she raised a hand to silence him, “Below somewhere… I think reinforcements are coming,”

Callon nodded, reaching behind his back and readying his bow and arrow, slowly raising it to the buildings across the way, “I see the others, but not the princes, and… Bilbo?”

“Bilbo?” She looked passed him curiously, and realised that they were staring across the frozen river to where Azog had stood not long ago.

There was a sudden thumping of drums and the fog dissipated to reveal Azog dragging Fíli by the scruff alongside himself, his feet dangling in the air as the orc leader was much larger than him; Callon stiffened as he raised the prince higher up.

“This one dies first, then the brother.” Azog smirked.

The others stepped forward to the rocky edges nervously as Fíli stared back at them in absolute fear, Callon aimed his arrow at the orc’s weaponised arm, and Nari observed her brother.

“Ye should aim for his head,” she suggested, but Callon disagreed.

“I want him to face a slow death,”

“Then you, Oakenshield… You will die last.” Azog grinned, raising his arm to strike.

“Go!” Fíli yelled to them but Thorin shook his head, “Run!”

“On my life,” Callon whispered as he released his arrow, it whizzed through the air quickly and struck the orc leader in his arm as he had intended.

The orc dropped Fíli with the unexpected attack, and the poor dwarf hit the ground at an awkward angle, causing him to roll towards the edge of the cliff they were on. As he reached the edge his body fell upright, and he managed to reach out and grab hold of the edge to keep himself from plummeting to his death.

Azog backed away, “Finish them,” he ordered, then disappeared from sight, not realising that the dwarf was still clinging on for his life.

The others assessed the area and were surprised to see the siblings already sprinting across the frozen water to the other side, and Thorin called out for his nephews as Kíli roared in outrage, not knowing his brother was still alive as he ran out from his hiding space and made after them. Thorin made no hesitation in chasing after him.

“Thorin,” Dwalin reached out, “Thorin, no!” he ran after his King, leaving Bilbo behind.

Nari worked at fighting off the goblin armies that had now circled the area to let her brother get to Fíli, he bent down on his knee and held his hand out for him.

“Take my hand,” the prince gladly took hold of it and was lifted to his feet, for a moment they seemed to forget the surroundings as their eyes met.

“Cal, a little assistance if ye would be so kind-” she called out and he jerked his head in surprise, before quickly taking out a dagger and handing it to Fíli, who took it with a smile; and they both moved out into the fight to aid Nari.

EEEEEEEEH!

They ducked down for a moment, covering their ears as they looked to the sky which was now filled with hefty bats flying overhead. They passed over the river and swooped over Dwalin and Bilbo who were being swarmed by another goblin army.

She stood up, “I’m going to help them,” she told Callon as she moved away, he gave a quick nod and worked side by side with Fíli at killing the goblins that still tried to attack them. As she darted across the ice she noticed Kíli not too far off, slaying a few orcs on his own but she realised that he would soon be overwhelmed, as the number of orcs never seemed to be wavering no matter how many kills they all made.

Nari jumped in and slayed an orc just as a larger one travelled passed Bilbo, knocking him down with the handle of his weapon, she stabbed another orc in the chest and watched the leading orc disappear, wondering if that was the infamous Bolg of the North, spawn of Azog.

She knelt over the hobbit in concern, and her shoulders slumped as she saw the rise and fall of his chest, “Thank Mahal, brave Master Baggins,” she breathed out.

“Kíli!”

Nari stood on her feet and frowned, somewhat recognising the voice that called his name.

“Kíli!”

It called again and she squinted to where she had last seen the prince.

“Tauriel!” he cried out, making Nari bolt to where their voices came from, only to find Bolg was attacking Tauriel and it seemed she was not winning.

She had no time to try and help the elf-maid as she became surrounded by more enemies herself, leaving her no choice but to defend herself against their constant attacks.

“Ah!” Tauriel grunted as Bolg raised her into the air by the throat, she kicked him swiftly in the gut and he dropped her immediately, only to return the gesture and force her against the wall with a thud.

Kíli leapt out from Nari’s right with his sword raised high into the air, landing promptly on the orc’s shoulders and sinking his weapon down, just missing his head by a whisker as the orc raised his own to block the attack. He launched Kíli over his head and into the nearby stone stairs, with a grunt the prince was on his feet again, and he charged at the orc; both went at each other relentlessly evading and striking where they could.

Nari finished off the hordes on her side and soared down, just at the orc held Kíli in place to strike him in the chest, with her dagger already drawn she came down on his exposed backside and Bolg dropped Kíli as he staggered sideways and distracting him from his kill; she buried it deep into his shoulder and neck as she was also thrown off her target.

Tauriel screamed as she grabbed the orc’s arm, making him lose grip of his sword, Nari hopped off and stood on the ground as Tauriel then rushed over to Kíli. Bolg reached down for his sword and faced Nari with a grunt; her breathing was heavy as she addressed the orc.

“I will see yer head mounted as a trophy before ye lay another hand on him,” the orc grinned, raising his sword and charging at her, she ducked as he narrowly missed her head. “Kíli, Tauriel, go!” she insisted, drawing her sword and facing the orc as the elf-maid struggled to help Kíli to his feet.

She managed to stab him in the leg and avoided another attack, moving further away from the two, “Are ye deaf?” she asked as she saw them watching her, “Run!” They seemed startled by her words and moved along as quickly as they could; it seemed that he had been disorientated from his fight against Bolg.

In her moment of distraction she had barely faced the orc when her head struck against something hard, causing her to gasp out and close her eyes for a second, when she opened them she froze in place, and Bolg’s sword impaled her torso firmly. She choked as she glanced down, the sword holding her in place against the stone; she looked over to the stairs and knew they were headed to safety.

Nari’s ears were ringing with the deafening scream that escaped her as the orc leaned over her and pressed the blade further in, but she fought against every nerve in her body telling her to give in, instead focusing on the heat that she felt coursing through her. Something in the back of her mind told her to grab Bolg by the wrists and she clasped them firmly, holding her gaze as he leaned back in surprise; the heat centred to her palms and a horrible odour wafted to her nose.

Bolg jerked back roaring in agony, taking his weapon with him and stepping backwards, and Nari gasped as she collapsed onto the ground, she closed her eyes for a moment as she pressed her burning hands into the bleeding wound, tears falling out her eyes as the skin seemed to bubble and scorch under the pressure. She opened her eyes glancing above her, and saw Kíli peering over the edge and then a hand swiftly pulling him away; she struggled to turn her attention back to Bolg.

Her vision started growing dark, but there was one last relief as she saw her brother approaching the orc, her breathing was shaky as Fíli leaned over her, and she watched as his mouth moved but she could not hear what he was saying.

His hands touched her shoulders to get her attention back on him as her head rolled back and her eyes seemed to glaze over steadily, he moved the lower edge of her tunic to examine her wound and frowned deeply as he saw the damage done by a sword, but also burned flesh that seemed to seal it somehow. Despite this, there was still a lot of blood slowly pooling underneath her, and he discovered the smaller opening on her backside.

“Nari, can you hear me?” he asked in concern, she met his eyes with a blank stare as her head rolled heavily.

She whispered hoarsely, “Keep my Callon safe for me,”

“Don’t you talk like that, you’ll be alright,” Fíli insisted, taking her hand and squeezing it hard, at least she assumed as she couldn’t feel her fingers; there was a grunt not far off as Bolg fell to his knees, and Callon removed the dagger from the orc’s head with satisfaction. “He’s right here Nari, right here,”

Her brother kneeled down next to Fíli, “Sister- what happened?” his eyes widened as he looked her over, her breathing was becoming even slower and her eyes barely remained open.

“Thorin… Kíli,” she mumbled out before her eyes shut, and she fell into the darkness; Fíli pressed his ear to her chest and heard her heart beat sluggishly.

“Nari?” Callon’s voice broke as he spoke her name.

“She is still with us,” Fíli assured him and Callon let out a shaky breath as a tear fell across his cheek, “I’ll stay with her, go find them,” he insisted, Callon nodded and took one last uncertain look at his sister as he left them.

He did not venture too far when he found Tauriel sitting with Kíli on a rock, “Thank Mahal, ye’re alive Kíli!”

“Is she alright?” Kíli spoke heavily, as if he had a lump in his throat.

“For now,” he bowed his head slightly, ignoring the burning of his eyes, “Where is Thorin?” he asked.

“Azog.” Kíli whispered and shot to his feet, he walked passed Callon who then followed him; they stood on another wall above the others and saw Dwalin down below battling some orcs.

They moved hurriedly when they saw more heading his way until they stumbled upon Bilbo laying between rubble, Kíli leaned over the hobbit immediately and gave him a once over, he moved back when Bilbo’s eyes suddenly flicked open and he stared at the skies above.

“The Eagles… they’ve come,” he said almost dreamily; Callon and Kíli both glanced up and realised that he wasn’t imagining things, the prince then helped Bilbo to his feet.

Callon ran over to aid Dwalin in his burst of hope, Kíli joined them and Bilbo did his best at fighting at a distance by throwing rocks at the assailants as they approached them, Dwalin moved further up the frozen river to kill off the smaller troop, and with the Eagles now helping their side the numbers seemed to begin to dwindle and as they killed the last of their enemies they could finally rest for a moment.

Callon breathed deeply, still feeling uncertain that all was right, and his eyes landed on Thorin who stood facing Azog on the ice just across from them.

The King picked up the stone that had slammed in front of him seconds ago, quickly tossing it over to Azog who caught it in his grasp, Thorin stepped back carefully as he kept his eyes on the orc, the cracked ice underneath Azog’s feet tilted into the air. He dropped the stone next to him and it slid into the water, it dragged the chain still attached and pulled the pale orc down with it despite his screams, and he slipped underneath the ice.

Silence.

“He’s done it,” Callon muttered, “He’s done it!” he cheered as he looked at the others; they smiled in relief before laughing.

He frowned when Thorin walked slowly along the ice, looking down with a wary gaze at something below, and his blade still firmly held in his hand. Callon started as the King cried out suddenly, the tip of a blade piercing through his foot from underneath, it vanished and Azog erupted out with a roar.

They all froze as he swung his sword at Thorin, knocking him down onto his backside, he was barely able to deflect the pale orc’s tireless blows against him; he stabbed his sword down and Thorin was lucky enough to raise his sword across his chest in time to protect himself.

Callon reached behind himself to retrieve his bow and arrow, aiming it at the Orc leader’s head, Kíli swallowed nervously and glanced down to Bilbo, only to find the hobbit had disappeared entirely.

The unique fork in Azog’s weapon was now the only thing keeping him from death, he grunted as the orc forced his sword further down upon him; it was a breath away from his heart now.

Callon shot his arrow and cursed as it moved off course with the breeze, hitting the orc in the shoulder and distracting him from his task at hand for a moment, he snorted at them and pushed his sword further down. It pricked Thorin’s chest and the dwarf King yelled out, Azog smirked with satisfaction and made to push further, when out of thin air Bilbo leapt down onto his backside; he plunged his little sword deep into the neck of the orc, Azog staggered to the side, giving Bilbo the opportunity to hop off.

The sword remained in his neck as he collapsed onto the ice with a final grunt, and Thorin, having gotten to his feet in seconds, grabbed the hobbit by the shoulders, moving them both away in fear. Callon lowered his bow and nodded at Bilbo, though he seemed too shaken to respond in the moment.

Kíli heard Dwalin shouting incoherently about an orc as he approached them at speed, he frowned and tried to ask him to be clear when there was a loud thud next to him, he turned to see Callon laying on the icy ground unconscious, a small boulder planted next to him that had not been there earlier and he quickly grabbed the bow and an arrow from the dwarf.

He scanned the area just behind them and spotted his target, one orc that was preparing to throw another stone, he swiftly shot him dead and kept his eyes peeled for any more signs of movement; he threw down the weapon and kneeled down to examine the injury to Callon’s head. He was bleeding a bit from the roughness of the stone, but seemed otherwise unharmed, Kíli moved his hand in front of Callon’s face and felt the warm breath against it.

He looked across the river and saw that Azog’s body lay still, his black blood seeping into the icy water, Thorin was leaning over him and then he walked away, Bilbo took to his side; he put an arm over the hobbit’s shoulder and held him tightly, Bilbo chuckled a little nervously until he saw the others.

They approached worriedly and Kíli spoke to his uncle, “He’s still breathing, only just, I think,”

Dwalin was panting loudly as he finally reached them, his exhaustion was evident as he approached tiredly, and his eyes welled up as he inspected Callon.

“Is he-?”

“What’s happened here?” Fíli’s voice spoke softer than usual and they diverted their attention to him, he carried Nari in his arms and she hung limply, still unconscious.

“He’s alive,” Kíli assured him.

“Mahal,” Dwalin whispered when his eyes fell onto Nari and darted back to Callon.

“She’s worse for wear I admit, but she’s fighting,” Fíli promised him.

“We must get them to the healers, quickly,” Thorin ordered, the princes agreed and Kíli moved to lift Callon from the ground but Dwalin raised a hand to stop him, picking his nephew up into his arms instead.

Once they were ready they moved down along the old paths as fast as they could, at some point along the way Kíli had taken Nari from his brother as his arms grew tired, and they continued without much fuss. Tauriel fell in step behind them, not wanting to invade in what felt like a very personal matter to the dwarves. A sense of guilt overwhelmed her as she registered that Nari had saved Kíli, and she swallowed the lump in her throat down at the concept of a life without him.

Thorin was the first to break the long silence they had fallen into, “Azog is finally dead, had it not been for these two… it could’ve been all of us,” his nephews only looked at him, “I was foolish for sending you there alone, it was clearly a trap, I hope you can forgive me, my nephews,”

“Of course Uncle,” they said together.

“You couldn’t have known Thorin, you know that.” Bilbo placed a hand on his friend’s shoulder.

“Aye,” Dwalin agreed, “We were ambushed and outnumbered by the bastards,” he gritted his teeth angrily.

To their relief the battle seemed to have ended, the Eagles flew away as the sun started to dip into the horizon, and they arrived at a gathering of those who had survived. Dwarves from the Iron Hills and the company, among the guards of Eossimar, were all mixed together; some were already tending to the injuries of their comrades, while others sat in silence as they mourned their losses.

From the left they saw more of the guard come out from the direction of Dale, with a large man walking somewhat alongside them, when Thorin met his gaze he bowed his head as a gesture of thanks, and Beorn returned it.

Bofur had just finished covering his brother’s leg wound when he looked around and saw Thorin and the others making their return, at first he was relieved as he stood up and made his way to them, but his smile faded as he saw how sombre they were. His eyes hovered over them and his heart pounded heavily in his chest as he saw Nari being carried in Kíli’s arms, he felt the air in his chest leave and he couldn’t breathe as they stilled in front of them.

Thorin waved Óin over to them and he examined them immediately, Bofur’s knees felt as though they were about to crumple under the sudden weight he felt as watched the healer look them over, a hand clapping down on his shoulder startled him and he turned to see Bombur trying to comfort him.

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