#zagreus; coo

[happyk44]

Hermes yammering on and on about his chthonic work while taking care of baby Dionysus, and fun "uncle" Thanatos tagging in when his coworker ("hey bestie!" "we are not besties") got a lot of crap going on, showing Dionysus bones and ghosts and how to drag Hypnos to a softer sleeping area when he passes out in a bush full of thorns again, and then a billion years later Zagreus pops out of the ground and Dionysus latches onto that underworld energy he doesn't really remember because he was a mortal baby at the time but totally vibes with nonetheless and boom. Besties

(and then a couple years later, Dionysus accidentally cuts Zagreus' dick off in a chaotic stupor, but it's chill because who really needs one)

[trippygalaxy]

Zagreus' Nicknames For You!

First x reader thing I'm making for Hades, and I wanted to do something small to get comfortable with this new fandom sooo nicknames headcanon it is! I hope you enjoy it!

Pairing: Zagreus x GN! Reader Warnings: NOT BETA READ!! (sorry for spelling errors!), suggestive language? its not meant to be--, Word count: 500+

Little Minx

A nickname said with mirth in his voice and a playful glare that holds nothing but love.

You, among with many others in the House, like to teasingly poke at the Prince's buttons with playful jabs and taunting comments. But you are one of the few that holds no true malice behind your words and makes a point to check in on him to see if these comments bother him.

He greatly appreciates your concerns and semi constant check ins, it makes him feel seen in a way he hasn't yet really experienced--

But he wouldn't call you his little minx if you weren't a little gremlin! Oh no no, you are by far the most mischievous soul he'll ever meet!! Your quick witted quips, your sly smirks and knowing looks as you press each of his buttons (with love, of course!), all of these factors are what got him to coin your title!

Zagreus may roll his eyes and send some playful jabs back, but he loves having a partner that can match his energy!! And he can't help but find it so cute when you snark him in that mirthful tone of yours!

Jewel

A nickname cooed into your hair, a wide smile clear in his loving tone. A nickname that comes bursting from his chest as he sees your darling form.

You shine brighter than any gem embedded in his fathers rings, the light that bounces off of you only adds to the breathtaking form of yours. You, to Zagreus, are one of the most beautiful jewels he had the honor to lay his eyes upon.

To the Prince, you are the most precious thing he has ever found!

Maybe thats the romantic in him, but he truly believes that you are worth every coin under the sun and ever uncut gem beneath the surface. He may doubt how someone as brilliant as you could ever stand next to someone as dull as him, but he is quick to push those worries aside when he sees the way you smile at him.

The man, as soon as he rises from the Styx, will look for you in the halls of the house, and you can bet that if he catches a glimpse of you he will be hurrying to your side and calling for you without a hint of shame in his tone.

He loves his Jewel, and he'll try to voice it ever chance he gets!

Nectar

A nickname whispered into the nape of your neck, batted breaths fanning across your collarbone as he clings to you.

Oh this boy...When he isn't trying to 'escape' the labyrinth that is the Underworld (or..dying), he is in your arms and is making himself right at home in your warm embrace!!

You've gained the nickname from...well...You hold a sweetness to you unlike anything he's ever experienced in the Underworld! He would gladly drown in you if it meant he could experience you again and again.

This nickname isnt as widely known, like Jewel, and nor is it used so sparingly like Minx! The nickname is used for the few quiet moments you two share together, its said with so much tenderness -as if you'd shatter like a glass bottle if Zagreus spoke it in any other way- you melt every time he says it.

These quiet moments tend to be with you two laying down, legs tangled with the others and embracing eachothers warmth and love.

Taglist: @birb-boyo @tomsishere @faroreskiss (Uhh...thats it i think?)

[kore-pythia-hayashi]

Will Daphnis meet Aelia? How would the encounter go?

From the creator of the character, - yes.

They met by chance, in the park where Daphnis walked with Kore as a child. He understood everything as you saw the eyes of a baby sitting in a stroller, similar to his and charmingly twinkling - her hair was still light and soft, waving in cute curls, the features of her tiny face had only changed a little and looked like those of her new father. Daphnis didn't want to think about the fact that she belonged to Apollo again.

The girl saw him and smiled and cooed enthusiastically. She looked exactly the same as when she was a child. Daphnis's heart ached. Young man leading her stroller, beautiful with kind sea-green eyes and more mature than Daphnis was, drew attention to Daphnis and smiled. His smile was similar to hers.

He adjusted the thin, sun-proof hat on her small head and smiled amiably at Daphnis: are you all right?

Daphnis was able to take his eyes off his daughter and tried to smile at him: No, it's okay, it's just that your little girl is very nice and nice... love and take care of her, she will grow up to be a great person.

The young man relaxed a little and smiled at him more openly and sincerely, most likely, he was afraid that Daphnis would turn out to be a monster: we know, love and care about her, she is our little miracle.

They talked for another 5 minutes about trivial things and went their separate ways. Now her name was Aelia, an ironic and cruel joke of fate. That day he bought a bottle of good wine and made a libation in honor of Zagreus, the god of rebirth. He was just glad to know that his daughter was happy now. Even if he lost her forever.

[persephoneflowerpetals]

It would be cute if Zeus and/or Poseidon walked in on Hades having a heartwarming moment with one of his kids and they are happy that their little brother actually has a heart and he feels embarrassed when they catch him being on all fatherly.

OMG I THINK OF THIS ALL THE TIME SKSHKDHDJD

I headcanon that Hades usually talks to his kids normally when they’re babies kinda like he’s having a conversation with them, but when nobody’s around he’s constantly cooing at them and doing silly baby talk to them because, dang it, he just loves his kids so much and they’re so adorable! Lol!

But seriously, Zeus or Poseidon walking in on him being all fatherly and cute with his kids would be so funny and adorable! Like, it’s very evident that Hades is crazy about his wife and loves his children with his entire being, but actually seeing him go all soft for his little ones is just so cute, but also jarring since he’s like, this big intimidating god of the underworld lol. Also, if Pain and Panic ever catch him doing that by accident he either threatens them or uses his powers on them and basically makes them swear to never talk about it lol

Hades: Who’s my little Prince of the Underworld, huh? Is that you? Yes it is! You’re my little princey-wincey! Yes you are! You’re my little guy! *starts cooing and baby talking while tickling Zagreus who is laughing and giggling*

Zeus: *walks into Zagreus’ nursery* Oh and by the way, Hades. I-

Hades: *freezes and acts like nothing happened*

Zeus: Awww! How cute!? Bonding with your son!

Hades: *frowns* I was just changing his diaper, but if you wanna call that “bonding” then sure, yeah, we were bonding. *picks up Zagreus and holds him*

Zeus: Any time you spend with your kids at that age is bonding, brother! *pats Hades on the back* It was pretty cute though! Who knew you were such a softie! Ha ha!

Hades: *points at Zeus* Hey! I am not soft or cute! Okay? Dark and menacing? Sure. Devilishly handsome? Absolutely, but soft and cute? No way.

Zeus: *chuckles and shakes his head* If you say so, Hades.

[baejax-the-great]

WIP Wednesday

Here's a bit of the Agua Caliente I wrote yesterday:

After reading and rereading the rules regarding businesses and pets, Achilles sets up Socks and family in his office where he can keep an eye on them. When the kittens are a bit older, they can probably be in the front and get socialized, but for now, his office is as good a spot as any. This has resulted in a parade of employees and close friends of employees poking their heads in to coo at the kittens. One friend in particular has given Achilles pause and not a small amount of misplaced guilt.

Thanatos apparently loves cats. He also apparently loves Zagreus, because Achilles caught them exchanging a quick kiss outside. He didn’t want to jump to conclusions immediately, and he considered quietly changing all their shifts so that Zagreus and Megaera no longer work together on the assumption that they broke up, but Megaera would tell him if she had an issue with working with her ex. Except on her next shift with Zagreus, it seemed clear they are not exes at all.

Achilles feels sick.

Zagreus isn’t married, he doesn’t have kids, his father seems to already be an asshole prior to this situation, but Achilles can’t help but see his own mistakes being repeated in front of him. He likes Megaera, and he has no interest in being the person who tells her that she is being cheated on. He should encourage Zagreus to come clean before he makes a bigger mess of both their lives.

Achilles shuts the door to his office and locks it. This is why he didn’t want to know anything about his employees’ love lives. The less he knows about them the better. He puts on headphones and turns on his music loud enough to drown out that tireless little voice in his head telling him there would be a simple way for him to stop caring about all of this and he can find that solution at the nearest convenience store.

Yes, he thinks bitterly, I can give myself entirely new problems.

[cosmicallybound]

@empyreous said, “You are enough to drive a saint to madness or a king to his knees.” (from zag~) fantasy starters || accepting

surprise colored the goddess's face as delicate fingers cupped the younger's face, smushing his cheeks together as she cooed. lush lips curled into a soft smirk as she swiped a thumb over the godling's cheek before pulling away. it wasn't often she could visit the underworld, but she cherished it nonetheless. " oh, my little godling, what a flirt you are. but you are correct. there is a reason why my name is so feared among mortals. even your uncle zeus avoids me whenever he can. 'twould seem i am able to bring even gods to their knees. " a teasing wink was tossed zagreus's way as she indulged in the ambrosia offered.

[friendball-irl]

(please pretend it has not been 1.5 hours since the last ask.)

[The anon nods and approaches Zag slowly, reaching out to pat Zag.]

...Hello, Zag. It's been a long time since you've last felt the kindness and love of others, hasn't it? I understand. I'm sorry. I hope you can feel it again soon. I hope you can sense a little bit of mine? I hope you can be happy.

[Once they're done, the anon gives a small polite bow to Gray and his Pokémon.] I'll come back if I can think of more stuff to bring. Or to say. If you need anything, just say the word. I'd come help, though someone with a name would probably get here first. I care about you, Gray. We all do.

[Zagreus leans into the touch, cooing softly, one of the first sounds he's made since meeting Gray. Gray himself smiles softly at it.]

...thank you. We both needed that.

...and thank you for caring.

[brokenmagxc]

what familial familiarity draws upon the other's words ?? curled betwixt softened expression and yearning eyes. phanes finds his lips twitching ; he knows the midnight mother speaks of him from time to time, for he hears her soft voice in the darkness when she does. the same way orpheus blesses him with song when he whispers telling legends to the bard and watches, intently, as the mortal persuades action under his hand. the soul of nyx was as earthy and grounding as it was ethereal. the night reached far and wide and caressed every corner of the universe, reassuring every shadow that darkness will come in the absent of light. and the light was always absent here where he was stuffed into a box and shoved so far behind the reaches of existence that no one talked of him now. just the inspiring singer, the loving mother, and the intrigued lord of the unpredictable.

death talked of him once before, and he heard that too. the eager coo of a tiny child. he missed the feeling of creation laid from freshly born idea, blooming from the carcass of thought and arising as action. he had been a mother once. a father. an inventor. a maker. he missed that dearly, and perhaps that showed in the way golden eyes twinkled like the stars of nyx, from the abyss, gleaming in content as the other bowed. a child—he wished he was still able to hold his own ( hold the universes in his grasp, caress existence as it was, in all its chaos and darkness, in life and death and love and war, in pride and bashfulness — he wished he could hold the light in his hands again and hug it as if it was the only thing keeping him alive, for it was ).

but thus, in this darkness. he was nobody, and he was nothing.

inevitable. fates gaze upon him in pity. chaos sighs, for he is being dramatic, and he brushes off the gust that blows against deep brunette strands of hair ( wood and dirt, clay and moss and soil ). chaos can hold themselves with restraint — he can be afforded this much. and it was unfair for the gape to hold family by the hand when while he could only watch in silence. he would never tear them from their child, the loving night sky. the abyss can wait for him to be satiated before he returns to his preordained prison.

phanes nods. he holds his gilded eyes upon the paleness of the other's face, steps closer still, where mundane shoes tap against the translucent floor and echo in their silence. he is observing their countenance ; he was not allowed the sight that chaos held, and so he had never laid eyes on the young incarnation. not since they had whispered his name in reverent awe as but a tiny thought in mother night's hands.

“ i am not allowed to speak to your fated one, for he does not know me. and i cannot expose myself to those who do not already know. ” head tilts. pale skin glistens under the golden glow of his own eyes, tongue swiping at a crimson lip, where the unmistakable shine of a universe touches at the black void hidden at the throat. “ your loving mother told you about me a few times. she is a gentle thing. i owe her much for keeping my name company when all else had forgotten. ”

hands clasp in front of him. “ i tell the silly musician to speak of me sometimes, between the gifted songs of change, the catalyst's lyre between skilled hands. he has since been — distracted, as you could — probably hear. ” the words awkwardly escape him. is he trying to make a joke ?? it is unclear.

the primordial dawdles in the abyss. his steps circle the younger being, if only because he wishes to move. the space around him follows in all its obedience. “ zagreus is a bright young one. i hope to meet him one day— ” the remainder disappears from him, unspoken but lingering between them: ‘ but i fear the fates will never let me. ’ there is a quiet yearning of his own, silent and lost ( but nothing is lost in this realm, just misplaced, removed from utterance so it could not be harnessed to full potential ). perhaps, beyond enigmatic intrigue, the deity seems — lonely.

a hum. phanes nods and stills in front of death, regarding them in a gentle stare. there, in the glimmer, appeared something melancholic beyond such divine opulence and unexpected selfless care. “ did you, perhaps, wish to speak to your family instead ?? ”

“I KNOW TO WHERE I HAVE ARRIVED.” they have been seeking this place for many millennia. mother night told many a' story of her unusual parent, curled up beside the twins and running her gentle fingers through their snowy hair. the elusive chaos felt more like a fairytale creature than an existing being. and phanes - well, nyx spoke rarely more of him; the force that hatched from the cosmic egg, the bringer of light and inevitabilities, an entity impossibly intertwined with chaos. a parent, no, but a creator? undoubtedly. as much as young thanatos pressed, eager to learn everything his mother could tell him about the primordial entities, his hunger for knowledge could never be satisfied. what should the fates have planned for them now that thanatos’ lover carries the shell phanes once emerges from? and though death stands tall and proud, there is a childlike eagerness that dances in his honeyed gaze. “it is the realm of my grandparent.”

they are not entirely without manners. mother nyx raised her favored children well. thanatos offers a slight bow to the elder deity. “i thank you for gracing me with your presence, master phanes.” he stands upright again. the realm chaos and phanes inhabit is far more fantastical than thanatos’ young mind could imagine. phanes alone is incredible. “it is an honor to carry out your wills.” his expression turns inquisitive, a slight shift in his stony countenance. “if i may ask. why do you appear before me? my … paramour has frequented your realm, yet he speaks only of chaos.”

[elysium-collective]

there is a squirrel exploring the vents well more accurately a human appearing about 12 with a fluffy tail, fluffy ears and buck teeth Gus isn't really sure why they choose this form as moving through the vents would be easier in squirrel form this thought however is interrupted by her falling out of the vents (from squirrel-osha)

Zagreus jumps back, their opossum friend scurrying behind a box and making defense noises at Gus. Neither he nor his friend know how the squirrel-person ended up in the vents but he doesn’t feel particularly inclined to question it yet. He quickly hides the snacks he’s holding behind his back, then his eyebrows shoot up and he asks “How did you get in there?”

[beepen]

It popped in my head for just a second: Thanatos with a baby. And now I can’t stop thinking about it.

———————————————

“Maybe—maybe Nyx? Can fix this? She can fix anything.” Zagreus wracks his brain for all the times he had gone to Nyx for something. His escape, Orpheus’ and Achilles’ contracts, and so much more when he was just a child. “Yes,” he nods, mostly to himself despite having another body—er, two, in the room with him. “Nyx will know what to do. She’ll help us find who the child belongs to, and—“

Thanatos is too quiet, and Zagreus whips around to talk directly to him, but blanks the moment he lays eyes on the mournful god.

And we can return him, is on the tip of his tongue, ready to slip, but. He can’t. He can’t, because Than isn’t paying attention to him, anyway. He can’t, because how can Zagreus say such a thing about a child now cradled safely in Death’s arms, also ignoring Zagreus, eyes wide and curious and so similar to Than’s except for the brightness lingering behind the golden color, where Than’s has long since dulled. The child—the baby; he coos and struggles to coordinate his arms in the way he wants to, waving them in jerky movements and spreading and closing his fingers.

He’s reaching, Zagreus realizes. He reaches for Thanatos despite already curled so close to the god’s chest. That doesn’t stop Than from straining his neck forward, lifting the child just so, and pulling him impossibly closer, until the child is pawing at Than’s face. Zagreus watches with a fluttering heart as Thanatos, Death Incarnate, mournful and relentless in his work, melts into a pair of tiny mortal hands.

[the-eighth-article]

Zagreus stared, and let out soft purr like noise, sinking to his knees and cupping Harrison’s face, forcing eye contact.

He cooed. Placing a kiss against his nose.

“I never said she was only my daughter. I was simply saying well..the doctor raised her. Not you. Much like you raised Vera and well..it’s complicated.”

He sighed, rolling his eyes and clicking his tongue, he then ran his thumb across Harrison’s now bloodied cheek. And promptly stuck his thumb into his mouth.

He chuckled dryly, swallowing.

“It’s quite easy to get you angry isn’t it? Quite easy to make you think I’m poor little Thee too..how long have you been married again? I mean…come on. What kind of husband doesn’t recognize his lovers personality..? Then again maybe I’m just a great actor..ah pity. Helena’s gone isn’t she? You’re alone. With me. A terrible husband. And a terrible god. Don’t we make the duo?”

He scowls as he drags the Doctor by the hand to their bedroom, slamming the door shut once they'd reached it, and pushing him to sit on the bed.

"WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING?"

He begins pacing, hands behind his back, eyes narrowed behind his sunglasses.

"First you up and disappear leaving all of us to panic and think you'd died, and now this! Is this because I couldn't fucking tell that it wasn't you for six months? Is that it? I already hate myself enough for it, Doctor, I wish every second of every day that I could change that, but there's nothing I can do-"

He continues pacing, losing himself in thought for a moment, his footsteps falling in time with the drums, a very rare things nowadays, proof that he was extremely agitated.

The Doctor refused to look at him. And scooted further against the bed. His nose scrunched up.

He avoided eye contact, hugging his knees as he listened to Harrison, lip twitching in distaste. He didn’t understand. At all. He had no fucking clue.

“I didn’t..I didn’t mean to disappear, first of all. I FORGOT. I didn’t mean to make everyone think I was dead, fucksake. I forgot. Zagreus was the only one there and-“

He choked on his own words, sputtering, and wiping at his eyes in frustration.

“It’s not your fault. How can I be around you knowing I couldn’t tell you sooner? Couldn’t save you? I hate this body. Because all it does is forget. And it’s a fucking NEST for a god made up of anti time I-“

He swallowed. Scooting further away until his back hit the bed frame.

“It’s not because of that. No.”

[rottingkiss]

GORE   /   HORROR   PROMPT   MEME -     send   🩸 for a randomly generated gory prompt OR pick a number for a prompt

@virusvexxed​ said: 055 /  lovesick. with zag & his auntie because he's been using her boon too long

My, oh, my! The other gods and goddesses have bickered at her RELENTLESSLY during this particular run-through of the Underworld that the little one is drudging through. Ever since Zagreus was BLESSED with her ounce of power, he’s gone just a tad off the DEEP end. He won’t accept anyone else’s boon; not until his search for his ONE (or two!) he wishes to call his is accomplished. One certainly cannot hurry a relationship, but how he is trying! The pink-haired deity cannot understand what could POSSIBLY be so awful about it all. Love IS the most powerful emotion of it all, and the boy truly needs it if he is to escape his stick-in-the-mud of a father. 

Well, not until she saw it with her own heart-shaped pupils, that is. 

❝You’re lovesick, dearest.❞    

That much is evident. When she steps off of Charon’s unpleasant boat, she is immediately greeted with the ghastly sight of mangled corpses of who she assumes were once residents of this realm. Each one of them with their chests torn OPEN, too! Tapping her barefoot against one body, she leans forward to see that the chest cavity is EMPTY of organs. Did her nephew decide to rip their hearts out and crush it? Perhaps even eat them as an act of revenge? Aphrodite has only done that on OCCASSION when rejected oh so wrongfully.  Understandable reaction! Too many of them is so bad for digestion, though! She really ought to lend a hand before he escapes her sights. 

The goddess flips locks of long hair over her shoulder and approaches the blood-stained Zagreus  with little caution, taking him into her arms so he can rest that weary head of his against her ample bosom. She pets the top of his head over and over again to soothe him, coos falling from glossy lips.

❝Oh, you’re in just an awful situation, aren’t you? It’s not because of my boon, but your suitors are BLIND. You’re doing the right thing. . .never take rejection lying down! You may be accustomed to swift deaths, but by your hand you ought to deliver it just the same! Here. . .allow me to assist you further along. Who is it that you’re yearning for now?❞    

[secret-engima]

In your LC Birbs verse, what would have happened if Ardyn had found Ozpin before Ramuh had intervened?

hgfgf forgive how long I’ve been perching on this ask but it’s just- has many possible answers and so I was hoarding it a little. Also I shall proceed to meet timeline for the sake of Prompto’s existence, just be aware XD.

-If Ardyn had found Ozpin before Ramuh had, he would have likely been in denial at first. He would have likely just been skulking around during a bout of restlessness, since as the Accursed sleep isn’t really an option very often, and found this isolated clone tank. Because the clone in that tank is dark skinned, at first he wouldn’t even have suspected the child was his. But then Ozpin, dimly sensing magic outside his tank and desperate to be free of this constant sedated haze, reaches out and Ardyn.

-Freezes.

-He knows that magic.

-He presses close to the tank, hands rising up to shakily touch the cold glass as the little one inside (probably only about half a year old in this AU? If that) stirs faintly. Gold eyes fight open to half-lidded cracks, and little fingers struggle through the haze of sedation to reach for Ardyn on an almost subconscious need-help-please-please. Ardyn feels his breath stutter as he looks at those gold, gold eyes and feels magic that burns slightly at his Scourge in a mix of LC-Oracle-Ardyn-Aera and feels the pieces collide.

-He yanks himself away from the tank and stalks away. It can’t be. It can’t be. The Scourge is toying with his mind again, making him see things, feel things.

-He mentally slaps at the magic that desperately reaches for him, and tells himself he feels no regret when it turns from hopeful-pleading to terrified and shrinks away.

-Ardyn tells himself he was imagining things for a month. Maybe two. Maybe far more than that, time is so hard for him to grasp. He tries to forget. But he can’t. He obsesses. The sight of the child in the tank haunts him whenever his eyelids shut, burns at him whenever he visits the lab after and catches a flicker of magic before it vanishes again.

-Finally, the need to know is too great. He returns and breaks into Besithia’s private office. He sorts through the papers about the MT project with growing frustration, yanks open locked drawers with raw strength of the desperate and paws through files of words that make little sense until he finds it.

-Project: Remnant stares back at him, a collection of photos of the tank child, of reports of various infant experiments that he cannot fully understand but sound like they would hurt (for doesn’t even the mildest strike of electricity hurt no matter how ultimately harmless it is?) and ... his origins. A project to clone the Accursed (to clone ARDYN) and while he doesn’t understand all the fancy words and self boasting littered in the reports, he understands the gist. That the initial clones all failed, daemonified within days. That Besithia had to eventually combine two extra strands of DNA in order to stabilize the child now in the tank. One of those strands was just a placeholder, a sample he had on hand that is at fault for the subject’s dark skin. The other strand-

-Tombs of the Oracles. The First Oracle.

-Aera.

-Aera-Aera-her-child-his-child-AERA’SCHILD

-Things get hazy. He remembers standing in Besithia’s quarters while the man writhed and screamed and paid for daring to desecrate Aera’s grave. He remembers setting ... a lot of things on fire, his armiger tearing open the walls as he raged.

-He remembers the crash of glass and black blood pouring from his arms before they healed as he pulled Aera’s drugged child free of the tank. The little one was so small, so alone, and somewhere with that thought in his head he thinks he snatched up another child on the way even though it was of Besithia’s blood, because there’s a screaming in his head that isn’t human but isn’t entirely the insanity of daemons insisting that hatchlings need playmates to grow up properly.

-He comes back to himself far away from the ruins of the laboratory, trekking through the wilderness with not one, but two children in his arms, one of them an infant barely a few months old. The other is his- is Aera’s- is their son. The infant is shivering and he takes a moment to securely wrap it in a spare coat (he didn’t intend to steal one of Besithia’s little MTs but he did and so this child is HIS now) before inspecting his blood child. The little boy is still drugged into sleep, unresponsive to Ardyn’s careful prodding, and Ardyn feels something inside him crack in pain as he inspects and realizes that the boy is no longer an infant, but a toddler. Perhaps two years old, bordering on three even.

-How long had he spent running away in denial while Aera’s child floated in that tank at Besithia’s mercy? Too long. Unforgivably long.

-“Oh my little one,” he breathes hoarsely, “Oh Aera. I abandoned our son. I would strike myself down were he not in need of me.”

-He carts both children through the wilds, slinking into the nearest town only to steal as many supplies as he can before flitting away again. The blond infant he’s stolen is not drugged and so wake up periodically. Ardyn had no real intention of getting attached, but his own son has reawakened things inside him, and the realization that this tiny infant is already well trained to not cry even when hungry or in discomfort makes his stomach churn and his armiger flicker briefly into being. He tries to distract himself from his worries over his sleeping son by fussing over the infant, making silly faces and cooing as he tends the infant who will be his own child’s playmate and little foster sibling. The little one needs a name.

-He will decide later. He must name Aera’s child first.

-He must ensure Aera’s child is alright first.

-The toddler finally wakes up on the second day of their travels, sluggish and confused. Ardyn feels precious, precious magic unfurl sleepily, tentatively little fingers of energy trying to pinpoint his new surroundings. Ardyn reaches back, eagerly, instinctively.

-The flinch from his son as gold eyes snap awake in fear, the way too-young magic all but recoils from him, hurts worse than Somnus’s blade through his heart all those centuries ago. The toddler in his arms gasps faintly, looking around, wide awake and confused-afraid. Ardyn shakes free of his shock and tries to hum a soothing note, but all it gets him is his child clumsily trying to raise his arms over his head like he expects a blow.

-Ardyn remembers that first meeting, that first sighting in the tank, the way magic had reached for him half asleep and needy and so vulnerable.

-He remembers how he had lashed out and slapped it away.

-It’s painfully, achingly, burningly clear that his son remembers it too, even though he shouldn’t, even though he should be too young to recall that horrible mistake, and Ardyn has to fight to breathe past the guilt screaming in his skull even louder than the Scourge. He can’t lose his mind, not yet, not again. He can’t lose his mind or run away or try fruitlessly to execute himself for the crime of hurting Aera’s child, because the little one (little ones, he hasn’t forgotten the burbling infant) need a caretaker and Ardyn is the only one (the only one who knows, who can be trusted, a magic child will suffer if given to non magical parents and he wouldn’t trust Somnus’s bloodline as far as he could throw Ifrit).

-He talks soothingly, mindlessly, trying to get the toddler in his arms to uncurl. He does eventually, looking around in fear-confusion, but his magic stays coiled tight inside him, and Ardyn’s tentative poke at it is met with another flinch and a wild-eyed gasp of terror.

...

-Ozpin wakes up and doesn’t know what’s going on or where he is. At first he reaches out, but the moment he brushes up against another, larger, magic, memories of Salem and half-formed impressions of this same magic striking him in anger that might be a dream or might be truth make him retreat and curl in on himself. He feels small, helpless, there is an eerie silence in his head where only faded memories lie instead of a new voice and a new host and he doesn’t understand.

-Talking draws him out of the haze of half-panic, but when large, dangerous magic pokes at his core again he recoils, expecting it to turn into fangs and the burning agony Salem was so very good at unleashing. It’s been so, so long since he felt any other magic than Salem’s or his own that he cannot stop himself from assuming pain will follow. That all magic not his own is intended for pain.

-The man holding him falters in his speech, like he’s in physical pain, and Ozpin uncurls again to peer at him. Is he injured? Who even is he?

-Ardyn, Ozpin learns as they travel. The man’s name is Ardyn, and Ozpin is in a toddler’s body that seems to belong to no one but him, there is another child, a blond infant who doesn’t look like he’s related to Ardyn or Ozpin but is with them anyway, who gurgles too-quiet in the way abused children do. Ozpin thinks, hazily, that this man might have rescued the pair of them from somewhere horrible. Or he might be at fault for that horrible place.

-Ardyn names the infant Prompto, and calls Ozpin “Zagreus” and Ozpin is too wary to tell him he already has a name. They’re traveling through the wilderness, one that Ozpin doesn’t know, and the moon above their heads is strange and unbroken.

-Ardyn has magic. Ozpin is too wary still to do more than flinch and hold painfully, obediently still whenever the man cautiously brushes it against Ozpin’s senses, even though he knows it hurts Ardyn to be rejected so, even though he knows he should be brave and reach out in return, because he doesn’t think this man has ever hurt him. Not yet at least. Not intentionally. The man is terrible at self care, so Ozpin thinks those repeated stretches of forgetting to feet him and Prompto are unintentional. Ozpin works up the nerve to keep track of time himself and repeatedly (hesitantly) tug on Ardyn’s coat when he thinks it’s time to feed Prompto and himself.

-Ardyn calls Ozpin his son. Ozpin has yet to figure out if that’s true or not. If he mingled magic, he’d be able to tell he thinks, because there is a strange new magic woven into his core, bolstering and healing his long-faded green and mingling into it with strands of blue and gold he can see behind his eyelids, but- he can’t.

-Every time he thinks of trying, all he can think of is Salem. And all the ways she killed him. All the times she forced their magics to mingle so he could feel her rage and hate and possessive, poisonous love as she carved him open and ended yet another lifetime.

-It doesn't help that Ardyn is ill. It’s not Grimm Darkness, he thinks after the first three panic attacks that trigger when he glimpses the man’s sickness. But it is very similar. Too similar. A part of Ozpin, his gold magic, itches to reach out and fix it, but after seen Ardyn look more Grimm than man when tearing apart the strange night monsters that sometimes hunt them, it’s all the self control he has not to grab Prompto and run into the wilderness. To let Ardyn pick them up and continue on their way. They will die without Ardyn, he knows that.

-It doesn’t make him any less afraid.

-It takes a long, long time to be able to fight down that fear even a little, to not stiffen in preparation for a strike when shaking hands pet his hair, to not duck his head and breath slow when Ardyn looks at him and speaks to him, trying to coax out a response that remains frozen silent on Ozpin’s tongue. He knows he’s acting poorly. But despite his infection, despite being so very hauntingly like Salem in some ways, Ardyn never loses his temper at either of them. He never turns violent or raises a hand against them, or withholds food or clothes or stuffed toys when Prompto misbehaves or Ozpin once again recoils from the touch of Ardyn’s magic.

-They’re wandering another continent entirely, and Prompto has already started babbling his first choppy words (Ze and Dyn respectively), by the time Ozpin works up the nerve to let his magic out into the air again. To probe at the air around them while Ardyn goes desperately, fragilely still and watches him without daring to reach out for fear of scaring Ozpin. It takes a lot of nerve, but he manages to brush his magic against Ardyn’s in gratitude-trust before retreating again, exhausted from pushing past so many lifetimes of Salem’s pain to do even that. He’ll try actually speaking aloud another day. Maybe.

-A few days later though, Ozpin hears two birds cawing hoarsely in the air and feels something familiar, and suddenly he’s racing away from Ardyn as fast as his tiny legs can carry him, chasing those birds in the sky and reaching for them with magic and need because that feels like-

-The birds plummet from the sky, and a moment later, two scraggly, wild eyed children with black hair and bright red eyes burst out of the underbrush to tackle him with gleeful cries.

-He’s found Raven and Qrow.

[josnhoes]

Ooooh if you get the chance I'd like to request more Zagreus x modern!reader! I love the two ideas that you've posted already and they would make a great fic!

If I wasn't already neglecting a fic I would attempt to make it a fic believe me. I'm so proud of the idea tbh. Thank you for all the praise and requesting more one it.

-Reader's comedy act is not really an act so much as venting with snarky sarcastic tones. So those roasts of the gods? Opinions baby.

-You try not to spill too much about the future as you don't want to fuck it up but eventually you give up on that.

-Zagreus loves your humor, and sure sometimes he doesn't understand it...like the time you cooed at him after a failed tun and told him "It's okay my little pogchamp". You had to explain it wasn't intended to be patronizing because he almost bit your head off. Okay it was a little. But it wasn't worst than Hypno's just don't die comment.

-Speaking of Hypnos you spend a surprising amount of time with him. The god doesn't know how to feel about it, he appreciates it but is unused to positive attention. But he understands why after you stand up for him and you had been brining him snacks and drinks while he worked. He loves it. Well he did until you tore into Thanatos. He was embarrassed then.

-Thanatos for the longest time wants nothing to do with you. You're too lively and if you turned that blade like wit on him he might loose his composure. But when you tear into him protecting Hypnos, brining up that dealing with dreams and sleep *was* one of his duties and many other valid points he never considered, well he sees you have some wisdom for a mortal. He makes a point of talking with you though it is basically just so he can learn more on how to handle his brother and low key how to navigate his own emotions. You make him feel understood.

-Nyx is unsure what to think, she senses you mean well and you have brought a certain levity to the house. But you have made Hypnos rely on someone else again when she was attempting to teach him independence. She tries to forbade it, but much like with Thanatos you got defensive and explained things she didn't see. But you were much more calm with her about it.

-You have weekly family sessions with Nyx, Hypnos, and Thanatos where you help them all open up with each other. As a result some feelings were hurt but it was worked through and they all have bonded with each other.

-Zagreus asks for the same treatment with his Dad and lord did you try but Hades wouldn't listen. At least not until Persephone came and forced him to try. Hades is still stand offish with his son and emotionally constipated but he is starting to understand his son a bit more and is less bitter about his wife forcing him to be kinder with Zagreus.

[st-hedge]

Isn’t it stupid how my entire camera roll on the switch is just material for cooing over Link and Zagreus 🙄

[zelenacat]

When We Were Young- An Obitine Story- Chapter 18

Satine did not tell Korkie about her fight with his father, she did however, ask him to question his siblings on whether or not they wanted to meet their father. Tyra felt like she would hate to run into him at the temple if he’d met her, and Tristan felt that it would add more uproar to his life. Mara didn’t think he’d be proud of her, and seemed to understand that he’d fought with her mother. Korkie outright said he felt like forming a relationship with his father would be a betrayal to his mother. When Satine assured him it wouldn’t be, Korkie still didn’t budge.

So, a mere hour before the Duchess of Mandalore would welcome the head of the Trade Federation. She was texting Senator Amidala.

“None of the kids want to meet him?”

“None.” Satine repeated.

Padme bit her lip, “He’ll be angry.”

“I know.”

The phone end went silent.

“Padme,” Satine stutterted, “I mean, if it wouldn’t be too much, could you ask Anakin to break the news to him?”

“They haven’t been on the greatest of terms,” Padme frowned, “since Obi-Wan found out that we knew before he did they’ve been a little tense.”

“Could you tell him then,” Satine swallowed, “and ask him if he’d like to be there when I give birth.”

Padme sighed.

“Please, Padme,” Satine begged, “he won’t talk to me.”

“Alright,” Padme agreed, “but I don’t know what he’ll say.”

“Thank you, thank you so much, Padme,” Satine gasped, “you’re such an angel.”

“Good luck with the Federation heads, Duchess,” the Senator warned, “they can be stiff.”

“I will, Senator,” Satine smiled, “thank you, thank you a thousand times over.”

The Duchess’ dress weighed more than any dress should. Four ladies had to carry it into her room on a stretcher. It seemed that every blue crystal owned by the Mandalorian royal house was on that dress.

“How-” Satine began.

“Five pounds,” Waldie grinned, “and that’s without your tiara.”

Parna squealed.

“Let’s get you in it, Satine,” Khaami huffed, “it’ll certainly be a piece of work.”

“That it will.” Waldie agreed.

There were at least three layers of petticoats that Satine counted, then came the glorious masterpiece itself. A luscious royal purple silk resplendent as the stars with gems worth more than the Banking Clan owned all together.

“Ooph,” Satine huffed, “heavy.”

Waldie smiled, “Should I send for the royal jeweler?”

“Please.”

Khaami and Parna’s dresses were navy, modeled in the traditional style of ladies to the Duchess. Lord Eldar, Khaami’s husband, had given his wife their family jewels for the occasion. Parna ooed and awed. Parna, as head lady, wore the golden sash of service.

“They Royal Jeweler, Your Grace.” Waldie announced.

The old man bowed low, holding a wooden chest out before him.

“Your jewels, Your Highness.”

Parna gasped as Satine opened the treasure. Satine adorned herself with a diamond choker and pearls around her neck, and silver bangles on her wrists.

“Satine,” Khaami gasped, “I didn’t know you had such majesty.”

The Duchess giggled, “There’s more to come.”

The royal jeweler opened the box that Waldie was holding and pulled out a navy sash.

“The medals? Parna gasped.

“We’re putting on a show,” Satine explained as Khaami pinned on her medals, “and I intend to make the trade representatives quiver in their boots.”

“You certainly will.” Waldie assured.

“And now,” the Royal Jeweler gestured, “for the tiara.”

Satine’s eyes watered as she saw it, remembering her mother.

“The late Duchess wore this on her wedding day,” the Jeweler stated as if Satine had forgotten, “it was a gift for Queen Mara from King Zagreus the Second of Zygerria.”

It was gorgeously intricate. Silver, diamonds, pearls, and even some quartz glowed magnificent in the headpiece. Satine stared at herself in the mirror. She looked like an empress.

“Do excuse me, Your Highness,” the jeweler bowed, “I must prepare your nephew.”

“Thank you,” Satine nodded, practicing moving her head in the crown, “you’ve done me a wonderful service.”

“I can’t believe you invited the whole court,” Khaami grinned, “I haven't seen some of the clan leaders in years.”

“I know,” Parna agreed, “and we get to dress so fancily.”

Satine had forgotten that Parna was a little younger than her, they had become adults together, yet in many ways they were still young.

“I saw them raising the banners earlier,” Khaami cooed, “and I must say, the new crest is marvelous.”

“You know how I love lilies.” Satine smiled.

Parna slipped the Duchess’ comfiest navy flats on her feet.

“Ah,” Satine placed her hands on her stomach, “this is going to be a long night.”

“You’ve got this,” Parna huffed, “you’re the Duchess.”

“And the She-wolf of Mandalore.” Khaami added with a grin.

“Yes,” Satine agreed, “I am.”

The Duchess was grateful her dress had a stiff back, it helped spread the weight evenly as she walked. Satine, donning her transparent shawl, met Korkie behind the doors to the grand hallway.

“Wow,” his jaw dropped, “don’t scare them, Lady Aunt.”

“I make no promises.” Satine winked.

Korkie himself was also dressed finely. Wearing his navy military uniform with a purple sash and medals to mark him as heir presumptive. He even had a ceremonial sword.

“I’ll meet you at the bottom of the stairs,” Korkie nodded, disappearing down a side hall, “good luck.”

Satine smiled.

“Her Grace, Satine Kryze, Duchess of Mandalore, Second of Her Name and Lady Krewella, accompanied by Lady Parna Supreis and Lady Khaami Eldar.”

The doors opened wide and Satine descended gracefully, a noble dignity caressing her features. It was so silent the only noise were Satine, Parna, and Khaami’s footfalls, but the Duchess knew it was just awe settling in.

The doors across the hall opened.

“His Grace, Korkyrach Kryze, Duke of Sundari.”

Those who weren’t enthralled by Satine swiveled their heads to Korkie, who kept a steady pace walking down the hall as he was trained to do. When Satine reached the bottom of the stairs, she straightened her shoulders and waited. Then, holding out her hand as Korkie came close, allowed herself to be escorted to her throne. 

As she sat, Satine scanned the crowd, there, at the back, were the Trade Federation representatives. An aide whispered to them and proudly, the representatives came forward, their circle of assistants around them.

“The Honorable Trade Federation Ambassadors lead by Trai Dee.”

Trai Dee, a man dressed in gold robes, bowed low before Satine. All his minions followed.

“Mandalore welcomes the Trade Federation with great reverence,” the Duchess announced, smiling, “we look forward to working to ensure the benefit of both our systems and set an example to the galaxy.”

“The Trade Federation thanks you for your welcome, my Great Lady,” Trai Dee raised his head, “we come with the righteous goal of acting as a beacon of humanly grace in wartime, and are grateful for Your Highness’ sentiments.”

“I appreciate the Trade Federation’s noble quest, and am most grateful for your time,” Satine looked up to face the court, “Mandalorians, shall we treat our guests with all our system has to offer?”

Cheers went up from the crowd, and a low rumble began as the drummers warmed up their tambors. The dance floor cleared, Satine stood, so did Trai Dee.

The Duchess walked down to the Ambassador, “I would be honored if you would join me for the first dance, Your Honor.” 

“It would be my pleasure to accept, Your Grace.” Trai Dee agreed.

They danced La Mandalorra, and old Mandalorian waltz performed only to drum beats. 

“Senator Amidala never told me you were such an exquisite dancer.” smiled Trai Dee.

“Thank you for your compliment,” Satine smiled, “I do hope you will enjoy the way we do things here.”

The Ambassador grinned back, “I happen to like grandeur and courtly rigour, Your Grace.”

Satine laughed, “Then you’ve come to the right place.”

The Duchess twirled, her dress spooling out around her. Then, she faced Trai Dee, who got down on one knee and kissed her hand. Applause arose, and the Ambassador stood as more people joined the dance floor. Khaami, Parna, and Korkie all danced with Ambassador Dee’s aides while Satine and her partner danced the second song.

“If I may,” Satine began, “I hope you will excuse any dealings you had with my former Prime Minister.”

“It’s quite a terrible thing,” agreed Trai Dee, “I am just glad he is in custody.”

“So am I,” Satine tried not to frown thinking of Almec, “Senator Amidala was a huge help to us.”

“The Senator is a gift to us all.” Ambassador Dee nodded.

The second song finished and Satine curtsied.

“Do excuse me, Ambassador, I must see to my ladies.”

Khaami and Parna nodded at their partners and left to join Satine.

“Is anyone here I should know about?” Satine whispered.

“The Wrens are here,” Parna stated, “but I don’t think that will be a problem.”

“I saw a jetpack flying in the distance,” Khaami quivered, “but I have scanned the room and can’t see anyone we affiliate with Death Watch.”

Satine scanned the room as well, smiling slightly as she saw Tristan and Korkie, but then returned to her goal. After a minute she was satisfied.

“Accompany to visit Jaru, our Prime Minister,” Satine instructed, “I don’t believe you’ve met her yet.”

“I have.” Khaami grinned.

“Still,” Satine linked her arm through her lady’s, “you are married now.”

The Prime Minister was standing with some trade aide, who all regarded Satine and her ladies politely.

“Your Grace,” Jaru Djarin bowed, “you throw a splendid party.”

“It’s all in honor of our guests,” the Duchess smiled, turning to the aides, “Mandalore is thrilled to have you here.”

“We are happy to be here,” an aide responded, “Your Highness is very kind.”

“Well then,” Satine smiled pleasantly, “I hope to see you enjoying yourselves.”

Next, the Duchess made her way to Korkie, who was conversing with Mandalorian noble children his own age.

Tristan saw her first, and bowed, “Your Grace.”

“Aunt Satine,” Korkie grinned, “to what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?”

The Duchess raised an eyebrow, “This song is coming to a close, Korkyrach, and I wore my good shoes.”

Sabine Wren snorted at that.

“Lady Aunt,” Korkie handed his cup to Tristan and held out his hand, “would you do me the honor of joining me in the next dance.”

“Why, Korkie,” Satine placed a hand to her chest, “I would simply adore that.”

 The Duchess let her nephew lead her onto the dance floor. The musicians began, and Satine twirled.

“I never thought I’d have to speak pleasantly for so long,” Korkie whispered, “I met a couple of the Ambassador’s aides, our conversation was practically a minefield.”

“Minefield?” Satine asked.

“They of course have ties to both sides,” Korkie explained, “but I got the impression they resented your friendship with Auntie Padme.”

“I see,” Satine’s eyes narrowed, “and did they mention the Ambassador’s feelings on the matter?”

The Duchess spinned, returning to get Korkie’s answer.

“I think they feel we are more Republic-leaning,” the Duke of Sundari answered, “but an aide, Jaira Deere, said that the Viceroy would be pleased if Mandalore stayed neutral, and of course, that’s who they represent.”

The Duchess curtsied, the Duke bowed.

“You’ve been very helpful, Korkie,” Satine straightened, “let me introduce you to the Ambassador directly, maybe you’ll learn a thing or two.”

On her nephew’s arm, Satine went in search of Ambassador Dee. She found him talking with Ursa and Alrich Wren of all people.

Alrich saw them first, “Your Highness, Your Grace.” 

Trai Dee turned around with a tense smile on his face, and Satine wondered if this visit was as much informational as it was to strike a deal and make money.

“Your Highness.” he bowed.

“Ambassador,” the Duchess smiled sweetly, “allow me to introduce you to my nephew, the Duke of Sundari.”

Dee bowed, “It’s a pleasure, Your Grace.”

“The pleasure is all ours, Your Honor,” Korkie extended his hand, “Mandalore is grateful for your visit.”

The Ambassador shook Korkie’s hand, “We’re glad to be here.”

The Duchess made some pleasant compliment about Korkie’s schoolwork and then excused herself, promising she’d return soon.

Satine was glad to find Tristan standing relatively alone, watching Sabine dance with a Saxon Lord.

“Lord Wren, may I speak with you?”

Tristan bowed, “Of course, your Grace.”

Satine lowered her voice, “I missed you and Mara’s sixteenth birthday.”

The boy’s eyes saddened, “I thought you forgot.”

“I couldn’t,” the Duchess tried to keep her tone even, “I was there you know.”

“Mara, and I met up for fifteen minutes in a shady part of town,” Tristan grinned at Satine’s expression, “we had coffee and commed Korkie and Tyra.”

The Duchess gave a small smile, “Well, tell your family that they’re invited to breakfast tomorrow with Korkie and my ladies. I’d like to give you your present.”

Tristan perked up, “I would love that.”

“I’m glad.”

Tristan bowed and Satine meandered through the ballroom until she returned to Korkie and the Ambassador.

“Your nephew is quite inquisitive,” Ambassador Dee’s eyes sparkled, “it’s refreshing to see one so young care about politics.”

“I feel that way as well,” Satine wrapped an arm around Korkie, “my nephew makes for a good Duke.”

When it came time for dinner, a bell rang and two grand doors opened into the dining hall. Pride filled Satine’s features, her decorators had done a marvelous job.

As usual, Korkie pulled out his aunt’s chair and pushed her in as the rest of the guests were sitting down. Parna, Khaami, and Korkie were all sprinkled at the head of the table near the Ambassador and his aides, along with the heads of Clean Saxon, Wren, and Bralor.

Near the end of the table sat Count Vizsla, looking unusually uncomfortable. Duchess Satine, when she wasn’t conversing with the Ambassador or eavesdropping on conversations, spent her time watching him. When the meal concluded, she noticed that Count Vizsla, instead of returning to the ballroom, took a wrong turn at an intersection.

“Follow Count Vizsla,” Satine instructed Korkie, “and take Parna with you.”

The rest of the evening was spent back in the ballroom. No one was dancing now, but instead couches had been moved into the room and the musicians were playing quietly as cocktails were served.

“Do tell us, Your Highness,” spoke up a make aide, “how neutrality has managed to keep your system stable.”

“It’s been quite a journey,” Satine responded, “but war is intolerable to civilization, it wreaks havoc in unseemly ways that destroys all the good society works for.”

“And yet you take support from the Republic.” a female aide countered.

Satine raised an eyebrow, “We’d be willing to take support from the Separatists if they were kind enough to not block our trading lines.”

“Jaira,” Ambassador Dee interjected, “we will not let the war interfere with politics where it is not needed.”

Slowly, the guests approached Satine and thanked her for such a splendid party, and ever the esteemed hostess, the Duchess replied that she was happy to provide her service.

Parna and Korkie returned about an hour later, Parna pulled her lady aside. 

“He confessed that his son made contact with him and spilled all of Death Watch’s plans to spoil the event, he’s in custody now.”

Satine smiled as if this were happy news and thanked Parna with a knowing look.

When it came down to only a few people left, Satine asked her guests if they wished to retire.

“My ladies will direct you to your rooms,” the Duchess gestured, “please know that your comfort is our first concern.”

Ambassador Dee bowed, “Thank you, Your Grace, sleep well.”

As the musicians packed up, Satine found Korkie and Tristan struggling to keep their eyes open.

“Get rest, boys,” the Duchess instructed, “we have big days ahead.”

Confession time, Satine took the elevator to her rooms. Korkie came up with her.

“We can’t have you falling asleep on the job, Lady Mother.” he teased quietly.

As Parna and Khaami were still attending to their guests Korkie sat his mother down and took off her shoes.

“You don’t need to do this, Korkie.” Satine smiled sweetly.

“I take of my siblings,” the Duke grinned, “I’m the oldest.”

That made Satine’s heart melt, and she felt safe enough to ask about whether or not Korkie would meet his father.

The Duke paused, “I’d still rather not, but maybe one day.”

The Duchess nodded and held out her arm to help her son up.

“Get some rest,” she advised, “Tristan and his family will have breakfast with us.”

Korkie winked, “Fun.”

“Go on now.” Satine shooed.

It took a half an hour to remove all of Satine’s jewels and place them in the appropriate boxes. It then took a further two trips for Khaami to return them all to the Royal Jewel Room while Parna undid Satine’s heavy gown.

“I can’t believe you’re still wearing corsets in your second trimester.” the lady admitted.

“I’ve done it before with twins,” Satine stated, “and we have Hera now, if you’re worried.”

“I suppose you’re right,” Parna agreed, handing Satine her nightshift, “I think things will be much easier now.”

When Khaami and Parna woke Satine up the next morning, the Duchess felt drained. She had a headache and her back and shoulders hurt from carrying the weight of last night’s dress.

“We have to spread our vile mixture on your sheets, remember,” Khaami whispered, “to stop the rumors?”

With a groan, Satine nodded.

“Come on,” Parna goaded, “your dress will be lighter today.”

Her dress was lighter that day. She wore her dress embroidered with the Mandalorian star system. The corset that had been added wasn’t as stiff, but Satine wore heels and a sash to distract from the fact that she had gained some weight. Then, while Parna did up her hair with lilies, Khaami spread Satine’s fake blood on her bedsheets.

“I’ll dip some on your nightdress too,” the lady added, “it’ll make it more convincing.”

Before heading downstairs, Satine fished out two plain-looking keycards.

“What are the presents?” Khaami asked.

“Palace entry cards,” Satine blushed, “so they can come see me and have access to the kitchens.”

Parna snorted. The main breakfast was served in the dining hall, but Satine went to a private room where Korkie was happily chatting with the Wrens.

“Duchess,” Ursa grinned, a gleam in her eye, “you were resplendent of our sun last night.”

“Thank you,” Satine blinked, “but tell me, how is the food this morning?”

“Delicious!” Sabine clapped.

Alrich shot her a look. Tristan snorted.

“Uh, I mean, delicious, Your Grace.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” Satine smiled, sitting down, “it’s been a while since I’ve seen your family, Ursa, how are you all?” “Well, thank you,” Ursa nodded, “though Sabine had a question about Pre Vizsla.”

Satine raised an eyebrow.

Sabine shrunk, “Word travels fast.”

“Ah.”

Was Sabine friendly with the Death Watch? She’d have to ask Tristan. Korkie then took up the conversation to ask about Tristan’s schoolwork, which the Duchess found greatly interesting.

“Top of the class this semester,” she smiled, “really?”

“Yes,” Tristan blushed, “and I intend to study genetic engineering.”

“How interesting.” Satine looked to Khaami, a smile on her face.

At the end of the meal, while Ursa and Sabine excused themselves, Khaami, Parna and Alrich were clearing the plates, Satine turned to her sons.

“Korkie, give us a moment, will you?”

Standing, the Duke of Sundari winked at his brother and left.

“Tristan,” the Duchess held out the cards, “this gives you access to anywhere in the palace, one is for Mara, but I’d like you both to come and go as you please.”

Tristan was flabbergasted.

“You will be able to access the kitchen, yes,” Satine smiled, “and anything in the med lab.”

Tristan took the card, hand shaking, “Thank you, Lady Mother.”

“Happy sixteenth birthday, Tristan Kryze,” Satine kissed her second son’s head, “to you and your twin sister.”

Tristan wrapped his arms around his mother.

“May I come in now?”

Satine laughed, “Of course, Korkie.”

“I’ll ask Mara to come this weekend,” Tristan said, excited, “does this mean we get wine cellar permission?”

Korkie snorted, “I’m not even allowed down there.”

Satine leveled him a look, “And you shouldn’t be.”

Tristan turned to Korkie, “Don’t worry, bro, you’ve got me now.”

A small knock bounced off the door. It was Ursa Wren.

“The meeting room is prepared, Your Grace.”

“Thank you,” Satine stood, “for all your help.”