#‘revered mother. I must confess I have a secret’

[herearedragons]

Okay, but… what if Secret Hawke wasn’t a mage.

What if her attention-drawing, humorous attitude was not a way to cope with the stressful reality of being an apostate, but a distraction tactic. That’s right, look at me, listen to me, laugh with me. Keep looking at me.

Don’t look at my sister.

[kaigarax]

The Gravity of You

Iwaizumi Haijime x Reader

Quote: "Fall in love with someone because it's a secret."

Iwaizumi falls in love like a tree branch beneath snow. It gathers slowly and surely until the pressure causes the branch to break apart from the rest of the tree and he finally realizes what has happened.

---

“Do you have a crush on anyone, Hajime?” You ask.

Iwaizumi Hajime, your childhood friend and companion, chokes on his sandwich, surprised by your sudden question, “pardon?”

You smile warmly, “Is there someone you like?”

Iwaizumi turns away from you, his cheeks flushed bright red, “no.”

“Really?” You give him a playful grin as you rest your head on his shoulder, “that sucks.”

“It doesn’t.”

“Well, as long as you don’t care, I don’t see why I should either.”

Iwaizumi finds himself silently thanking the fact that you’ve decided to drop the conversation topic. He doesn’t know how much longer he would have been able to bear without suddenly confessing all his feelings to you like some love sick school boy; though all things considered, Iwaizumi didn’t consider himself much better than the love sick school boy beside him.

Iwaizumi doesn't have much time to silently thank whatever God that might be out there for this moment of reprieve as his brain is much too focused on the feeling of you against him as you rest your head on his shoulder.

You’re warm. Or at least warmer than him.

And your body is soft against his own.

He’s struggling to come up with any coherent thoughts, to be honest.

Focused more on the sensation of you than anything else.

Oikawa pouts, hanging off on your arm as he pulls you off of Iwaizumi’s shoulder and into his own embrace, “aren’t you curious about who I like?”

Iwaizumi isn’t sure if he’s thankful or annoyed.

“No,” you smile playfully, your eyes squinting as you look at Oikawa, the sun getting in your eyes, “I don’t care~”

Oikawa pouts, “(Y/n)!”

Iwaizumi’s heart pangs in a strange way.

He watches as his friend’s eyes soften and his pouting face turns into something more akin to a soft smile. A certain kinda smile that’s only ever been reserved for you. It’s one of those smiles that movie stars make when they’re pretending to be in love with their counterpart in those corny romantic movies that his mother likes to watch.

An uncomfortable churning in Iwaizumi’s stomach accompanies the strange pang in his heart.

Iwaizumi has never been the smartest of the bunch. Never been the kid that wins awards for being really proficient in a particular topic or the kind to win medals because he excels over his peers. He’s always been more on the athletic side but never enough to garner attention from adults in the same way that you and Oikawa had.

He’s never been the kid that adults like because he’s so obedient but neither has he been one of those troublemakers that finds themselves in the principal’s office every other day. He’s just always kind of existed.

In truth, Iwaizumi feels a little guilty when he thinks about his feelings. Especially as he looks over to his friend who seems absolutely smitten. Who is absolutely smitten with you. Iwaizumi finds himself constantly wondering if he’s a bad friend.

Oikawa has never had a shortage of girls fawning over him but rarely has Iwaizumi ever seen him look at someone the same way he looks at you. In fact, Iwaizumi would even go as far as saying that there is no one that he looks at the same way. No one that he watches with such reverence or warmth.

You lean over, resting your head on Iwaizumi’s lap, “you okay?”

Iwaizumi nods in response, hoping you don’t notice the red flush of his ears.

Praying that Oikawa doesn’t either.

He must be a bad friend.

You sigh deeply.

“Are you okay?” Oikawa asks, poking your cheek.

“Yeah,” you hum, “I’m okay. Just debating the right way of telling the two of you that I’m moving at the end of the year.”

“What!” Oikawa jolts upright, standing alert, “you’re moving? Where?”

“Tokyo.”

“Why?”

“My parents got good paying jobs there.” You answer, shrugging your shoulders nonchalantly.

Oikawa breaks out into a series of pours and complaints while you simply nod calmly in response.

Iwaizumi feels all the twisting and fluttering from earlier suddenly drop.

Yours and Oikawa’s words seem to fade into the background, the loud pounding of his heart moving to the forefront. His ears are ringing and his heart begins to hurt. Aching the same way it did when his pet goldfish died. He isn’t quite sure what this feeling is and why he’s even feeling it in the first place.

He reaches out and grabs your hand.

Iwaizumi comes to the conclusion that he’s definitely a bad friend.

---

Iwaizumi had never been one to care for skipping class but he did happen to enjoy the privilege of getting to leave class early during volleyball exhibition matches. Usually he’d head to the gym after class but sometimes they’d be lucky enough to have a practice match against a team from a neighboring school. Today’s match in particular was from a school that was a little further away, which is why Iwaizumi found himself packing up his belongings twenty minutes before class would end.

Some of Iwaizumi’s teammates would leave a little earlier, taking advantage of the situation to get out of class even earlier, but Iwaizumi liked to do things properly. He never crossed unless the crosswalk allowed him to; never skipped his early morning cleaning duties; and never left classes early unless necessary.

The teacher gives him a small nod as he quietly exits the classroom.

Iwaizumi immediately begins to make his way to the gym where he and the rest of his teammates are supposed to meet up though, knowing his coach and faculty advisor, they’re likely going to be running late.

The hallways are surprisingly quiet during the hours of class.

Empty and filled with a calm ease. Yet, strangely warm and almost nostalgic though why nostalgic Iwaizumi isn’t really sure. Perhaps melancholy instead? In a way, it reminds him of a moment in time that he hasn’t yet lived before.

A faint breeze wafts in through a window that’s been left open ever so slightly.

It’s strangely isolating being out here in the hallways alone.

The silence feels blaring; accompanied only by the faint muffled voices of teachers through the heavy doors of the classrooms.

Iwaizumi thinks that maybe these hallways are a little like him.

People rarely stop to give the hallway a second glance until they’re there alone. Sure, everyone knows the hallway exists, they walk past it and through it every day of their life, but no one ever stops to spare it a second glance. They find it plain and perhaps a little boring. There never is anything extraordinarily unique about hallways or particularly exciting. It is, more than anything, an afterthought in everyone’s minds.

And Iwaizumi thinks that it’s okay. He’s never cared to be the centre of attention. Never cared for everyone else to turn and look at him. He’s only ever wanted to live his life to the best of his abilities. Being the best person he could be and trying his best at wherever he happened to be doing in that moment of place or time. He’d save the boastful peacocking to his hyperactive and arrogant best friend.

All the second year classrooms are aligned side by side and Iwazuimi’s just happens to be in the middle. Usually he takes the stairs to the left as they’re the closest to the gym. Saves him a couple of precious seconds as well as backtracking. Really, there's a point in going right. No benefit for him in any logical sense.

Yet, today, despite not having much time to spare, Iwaizumi chooses to go to the right.

Illogical, yes. Nonsensical, yes. And perhaps even a little senseless.

But not without reason.

Well a reason that Iwaizumi would never admit allowed.

Something he’d never admit to his best friend or any of his teammates. He sure as heck would admit it to any of the teachers if he were caught and most definitely he would not admit it to you.

You were, afterall, the reason why he had even gone this way at all. The only reason why he ever thought to go left.

Your classroom is farthest to the right and right before the staircase. Directly across from the window left slightly open. Briefly, Iwaizumi allows himself a moment to look outside feeling almost carefree and young. He thinks that maybe this is how everyone else must feel when they’re breaking the rules. Not that Iwaizumi has never broken the rules before but this is the first time he has ever allowed himself such indulgence before.

Then, he peaks into your classroom through the window on the door.

Everyone’s attention is diligently on the teacher as they scribble away. Different from his own classroom’s behaviour. Not that Iwaizumi’s classmates are bad students but they certainly aren’t as diligent as your own. And he’s certainly not as diligent as you.

You sit somewhere in the middle of the classroom, similar to where he sits in his own classroom, but Iwaizumi is able to spot you immediately. He’s usually able to. Bets that he would be able to spot you in a more crowded situation if given the chance.

You have always been, at least to him, as bright as the sun. So brilliant and warm. The centerpiece of attention that everyone’s eyes are drawn to and the person that no one can ever seem to look away from, Iwaizumi included.

He’s honestly a little embarrassed.

Never once has Iwaizumi ever admitted to having liked a girl before. Sure, there had been girls that had caught his attention. Girls that had made his heart race and ones that he thought pretty. Ones that made his cheeks flush bright red and others that he had considered leaning in to kiss before but none of them had ever made him feel the same way that you had.

None of them were you.

You.

Pretty you.

Sweet you.

His childhood friend and the girl that he would one day refer to as his first love.

You were quite the opposite of him. Sure, you liked to sit in the same place during class and you’re both diligent students and managed to hang out with the ever belligerent and cocky man known as Oikawa Tooru but that is where the similarities ended.

Unlike Iwaizumi, you were anything but an empty hallway in the middle of the day twenty minutes before classes ended. You’re bold and brilliant. Eye catching in a way that he’ll never be. Not only are Iwaizumi’s eyes always immediately drawn to you but so are everyone else’s. You’re the kind of girl that lights up the room when she walks in and brings smiles to everyone else’s face when you laugh.

The kind of girl everyone likes to be around.

The kind of girl that everyone notices.

And unfortunately, not the kinda girl that would notice him.

Sure, you and Iwaizumi are childhood friends but he was never really the one that made your eyes light up and made you smile so brightly and warmly the same way it did when you were around others. Sure, you and him got along well but he would never be the kind of guy that made your heart race. He would never be the kind of guy that made you blush or the one you’d think of in the middle of the night, unable to fall asleep.

Iwaizumi takes a deep breath as he steps away from the classroom door and towards the open window.

Being alone in the usual busy hallway is strangely isolating.

As a second year middle schooler, Iwaizumi Hajime had no idea about high school.

He rarely ever thought about what he might do when he grows up.

Never really considered the idea or marriage.

But he did think about you.

And sure, you’re moving at the end of the school year. And, you’ll probably never be aware of how he feels; his feelings being kept hidden away under a lock and key. And maybe you’ll never notice Iwaizumi but until then Iwaizumi thinks that he’d like to be with you.

Until then, he wants to be with you.

---

Fall in love with someone because it’s a secret.

[littlelesbinonny]

The Devil’s Den

Chapter 19: In Which Quiet Confessions Are Loudest

You can read this also on Ao3 at:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/46831621/chapters/117962293

You watched Alcina leave in silence but in your head you were screaming.

She had kissed you with severity; a reverence she'd not shown you before and you wanted to cry.

And argue.

Fight her to stay. The need to keep her close violent and protective.

Holy shit, your emotions were suddenly unsupervised teenagers who found energy drinks and a pile of candy.

They. Were. All. Over the place.

There was a lingering in her eyes in the split second before she vanished, and in that moment you wanted to say it. You wanted to tell her all the things you'd felt for so long.

You wanted to tell her you loved her.

But you couldn't. And didn't.

Fucking why?

In the midst of the barrage of pin-balling thoughts and feelings you watched her depart with such great hesitation you almost jumped out the window after her.

Please don't go. I can buy black out curtains for every window in this apartment; I'll make it sun proof, completely safe so you can stay. We can just hole-up here and forget everything. Stay - just stay with me, stay. Or take me back with you - or even if I can't be in the underground, take me somewhere closer so I can get to you faster, so you can get to me faster, so we're not so far away. I have no idea where you even go when you leave me, but please, don't go. Please just stay. Don't leave me. Don't leave me.

Your mind rambled as your heart kept bursting with some concoction of whatever the fuck you were experiencing.

She vanished into the darkness but your eyes followed an imaginary path until you couldn't any longer.

With an exasperated huff you tore yourself from the balcony and went back inside.

Your bed was a mess. Sheet haphazardly hanging off one side, pillows smushed against the headboard, some on the floor, bedspread... location currently unknown. It gave you a slight smile remembering the fun it took to get it looking this way. Your body was still heavily buzzing with euphoria, so much so you were almost at the brink of overstimulation. You were covered in everything her; smudged lipstick, bite marks, smell, taste, sensation of her hands and fingers and lips and tongue and body pressed into yours - it was dizzying, But, still... elation was heavily leaned upon by a shadow.

And you were pretty fucking sure it's name was Mother Miranda.

Alcina's story was much more vague than what you felt you saw in your head when she told you about the scar. For some reason it seemed as if you had slipped into a dream and witnessed it via third person. Almost like you could smell the cell Miranda locked her in, feel the pain in your own neck from each syringe prick, feel the sluggish tug in your muscles from the exhaustion and hunger she must have felt herself. You still couldn't expunge the images, nor the rage and fire in your chest.

If you ever got the chance to kill Mother Miranda, you'd take it.

Your own death imminent, or not.

Eventually you plopped back on your bed face first. Nuzzling your nose into your mattress that smelled heavily of Alcina. Sandalwood, vanilla, sex and sensuality. It gave you relief. Solace, for a brief time at least.

~

For how long.

Yes. Alcina wondered that too.

That was one thing about being undead, she got to think. She got to think a lot.

All the time in the world to do so many things; travel, experience, taste blood from anyone she wanted, kill, destroy, make, learn, and think.

Leaving you tonight was hard.

Neither of you were safe. But she'd do anything to keep you secret. Keep you safe.

She walked with little purpose, no urgency in her steps, just bearing the load of thoughts and questions with no answers or solutions. At least, none that she was willing to accept.

New York in the early morning before daybreak was her favorite time in the city. It was still dark. Very few people bustling here and there. Something about the deep breath before the chaos of humanity ran amuck was like stumbling upon an undiscovered world only very few would ever know. She felt she could be seen here, in the now; show her face to anyone she stumbled upon and feel safe to let down her walls towering so high. Night owls flocked and mingled silently together without judgement, always.

The few who passed her on her trek to the church regarded her with wandering, curious eyes. And oh how she missed being able to bask in the innocent attention without fear of repercussion. Still, as much as she wanted to feel desired again by any who looked upon her, truly, all she wanted now was to be left alone. She wanted another life. But how many are lucky enough to be granted more than one chance? She had been. Asking for a third was greedy at best.

Alcina met a clergyman as she entered the side door of the church. He took one look at her, stiffened, dropped his gaze, painted an invisible cross in front of himself as if this blessing would save him from her, and quickly scattered off into another room. She smirked. Christians were peculiar folks. Every priest in this place knew about the vampire city underground, their comings and goings from their own church, and still after all these years they treated them as if they were Satan's spawn or Satan himself. So odd. So silly.

But she knew nothing of God or the Devil. Those two were as good as any fictional characters in any book. Her undead life skewed her already tattered view of the world, so who was she to judge their reaction. Her soul was as good as damned in their eyes, which meant nothing to her. She wasn't so sure she had a soul to begin with. As a human, her god was money, her beauty, sex, drugs, alcohol, things that made her feel anything other than pain. As a vampire, her god was time. That's all there was on this side of the fence.

Where was God when her human body was failing and she was dying?

Where was the Devil when she crossed the barrier of life and death to live immortally?

Where was salvation on any end of the spectrum?

The pew creaked as she sat to admire the stained glass. The colors were muted. Nighttime colors. No sun to illuminate the brilliant craftmanship of each hand painted chunk of glass, only the light from the chandelier above to bask in for her eyes to witness.

Mary looked lovely. Innocent. But burdened. The weight of the world placed upon her shoulders.

Alcina sighed.

Somehow, she felt it too.

How scandalously blasphemous, she thought.

She was no saint, no God-fearing woman, not one religious or pious notion about her. How could she possibly compare her woes to that of this woman, this Divine Mary?

Oh my hell, since when did this pretentious bullshit become a part of my subconscious, she scoffed.

"Cutting it close to dawn, aren't we?"

Came a voice that made her eyes roll.

"Spare me," she replied flatly and rose, turning to the familiar priest who was dwarfed by her height in the aisle next to the pew.

He stood there solidly. His white robes starch and crisp like his thin white hair.

His aged face peered up at her knowingly, "if you don't it like here, why do you spend so much time looking at it?"

Alcina didn't bother to hide her unamused facade.

"Does it matter? It's pretty to look at and it's quiet, I like quiet."

"Mmm, perhaps you might remind your... fellow comrades about the quiet factor. There have been several happenings lately that have disturbed my priests into the night."

"Noted," she stated briskly pushing passed him, annoyed already at the news as she waltzed up the aisle.

"Lady Dimitrescu..." he called after her.

Stopping, huffing, and giving the slightest acknowledgement over her shoulder at him, Alcina clicked her tongue, "yes, Father Sullivan?"

"I look forward to our upcoming meeting... and, please remember; all are welcome in God's house. All. Always."

If she could sprain her eyes from rolling them too hard this might have been the moment.

Alcina gave him all but a curt nod and began to leave. Annoyance kicked up the pace of her steps as she rounded the corner and headed for the underground entrance.

'All are welcome.' Please. As if I hadn't tried your ways when I was human. It didn't save me then and it's certainly not going to save me now. How fucking cocky. If it weren't for us vampires this church of yours would've shut down 20 some odd years ago. Our quid-pro-quo is the only thing keeping this place afloat and that's the only reason for your generosity. Our money in exchange for safe passage to our city beneath your feet. Please... you insufferable fool.

Alcina's thoughts continued to scoff and bicker. She hated dealing with the church almost as much as she did city officials. Everyone was crooked in their own ways, and money was always the bending factor. And the vampires? They had plenty.

The underground city wasn't powered simply by accident. When they were found out by an electrician and city official in the early 1900's, Mother Miranda decided to work with the humans. Money for endless power, no questions asked, and no one gets hurt. Alcina hadn't been around when the agreement was set, but as Matriarch the responsibility became hers. She trusted none of them, and it irked her to play kiss-ass to keep the peace treaty.

As she furthered her trek into the city, the more and more she thought, the more and more suffocated and claustrophobic she felt.

She didn't want any of this anymore.

All these responsibilities.

The work. The title.

To live here like a prisoner who was simply glorified by being dressed in jewels and power.

There was no freedom here.

All she wanted was her daughters, and you.

A life far away from here where you could all be free and do as you pleased.

Now there was a thought; the 5 of you living together in a whole new city, perhaps the country, somewhere far off the beaten path so no one could ever find you all. A human and 4 vampires, living a life of pure chaos she had no doubt. Alcina pondered how you and her girls would get on - with very little convincing in her mind she assumed they would be just as enamored with you as she was. Daniela would be nothing but curious and fascinated by you, eager to hear all your stories and wish to take you on adventures with her like a new-found best friend, ready to cause mayhem and trouble. Bela would be intrigued by your depth and views of the world, wishing to philosophize with you and explore books and theories galore. Cassandra... Well, Cassandra might be a little tougher to crack. But the two of you may easily be the most alike; hard on the surface, but loving and protective of those you care about, able to see the bigger picture and each angle to a situation, the ability to play devil's advocate but still hold the highest good in your heart. Alcina knew you two could have a bond very likely stronger than with the other two, if Cassandra would have it.

But then, there might be a slight awkwardness about the fact it was her daughters that caught you in the first place to be killed at the club that night.

She pursed her lips at the scenario to stifle her laughter.

"Is something quite amusing?"

Salvatore's voice instantly sent her lighter mood diving off a cliff into a ravine of pissed off.

She stopped dead in her tracks on the cobblestone, tongued her teeth and turned her head slowly in his direction.

He was standing so matter-of-factly in the nearby alley, leaning on the side of the building with his hands in his blazer pockets. Face, smug but tentative as to the fact he knew he was poking a bear that not only bit but killed at will if provoked just enough.

Alcina's eye glinted as they narrowed and she feigned a dangerous smirk.

"Is it any business of yours?" she asked, her voice low with a hint of sourness.

He shook his head gently and shuffled on his feet but didn't move, taking a hand mindfully and running it over his thinned greasy dark hair, fingers tracing his mustache thoughtfully before he took in the sight of her better.

"I see you're out and about again," he mused, "now that Mother Miranda is gone, your feeding schedule is back on track?"

He was awfully cocky for her liking right at the moment, in fact she didn't care for his sudden change in demeanor at all. Salvatore was always sheepish, shy, very mild and weak-mannered, especially around her. It was rare the man ever addressed her directly at all, not in passing or in council, so this, this was new.

Alcina felt the fire in her chest stoke at his questioning and she stepped towards him slowly, watching him calculate his standing as she moved towards him. She could smell the tension puff off around him.

"Perhaps I shall reiterate; what business is it of yours what I do at all?"

They were face to face now. Alcina staring down at him, eyes alight with temptation, begging for a reason to slice his throat and be done with his sniveling, groveling, sneaky, fake ass-kissing bullshit.

He swallowed.

"S-simply making conversation," Salvatore expanded gently, "Mother Miranda takes a lot out of all of us when she visits -uh -" he swallowed again, "you seem to be rebounding well, that is all."

More games. What the fuck was he after with this conversation?

Her eyes narrowed once more.

"I do believe I discussed this with Mother Miranda the day she left... I recall explaining to her that if you gave as much effort to things that mattered, as much as you do sticking your nose where it doesn't belong, you might actually accomplish something of importance..." Alcina took one more step closer and lowered her voice even more, "as it stands, I will not give you another warning; mind your own, Salvatore. You don't give a shit about me or my well-being, and I wouldn't give a fuck even if you did. Take your fake sincerity and nonsense 'conversation' elsewhere."

Straightening her back, Alcina studied his well manicured facade of stability and sneered.

"Now, if you'll excuse me I have to get home to my daughters."

She bade him no good day and left him standing there with quivering knees.

She didn't like that exchange one bit and stewed on it the rest of the walk back to the manor.

Whenever Mother Miranda visited he found some semblance of a cocky attitude that was always out of place. But this felt a bit too different.

Too exhausted to care much more about it Alcina made her way to her chambers and began turning in for the day.

She needed sleep just as much as she needed you there beside her in her bed. Unfortunately she'd have to settle for thoughts and dreams about it instead.

-

Saturday felt unusually alive for you. It was around noon when you woke but you were energetic and starving.

Mmm. Good sex will do that.

You grinned as you shuffled out of bed smelling your lover as if she was still there with you.

Taking a quick shower and donning some comfortable clothes you headed out into the city to find something to eat.

Odd thing was, nothing really sounded good.

Greek? Nah. Indian? Meh. Pizza? No. Bagels? Mmm... nah. Ethiopian? Nah. Sushi? No.

You walked for a couple blocks until you came upon a little market vendor full of fresh fruit and veggies.

Score.

Filling up your backpack with your favorites you paid and tipped the kind old lady, she winked at you and you meandered off back home with a bag of giant plump red grapes in your hand, munching away to your hearts delight in the warm summer sun.

A muffled ruckus caught your attention as you walked passed an alley and as you peered down it you noticed a group of crows bickering and fighting over an old beat up pizza box. The contents of it's old, moldy crusts and who knows what else was being picked at with attitude. You knew bread isn't great for birds to be eating and you looked down at your beautiful bag of grapes with a sigh.

Two crows began to really get into it with each other as both thought the biggest left over crust should obviously belong to the one of them, and you hollered down the alley.

"Now that's enough of that," you called as you slowly walked your way towards them.

Instead of scattering the group simply regarded you as you approached, shuffling back and away a little before you knelt and gently tossed a large clump of grapes their way.

"Listen, lay off the carbs, I know its addicting but I'd rather you not die of malnutrition or whatever... I'll share, how bout that?"

Yeah. You were talking to birds. So what.

As you stood and began to walk away they all converged on the fruit and ate with pleasure.

You smiled and made your way back home. Good deed for the day, done.

You couldn't help your thoughts as they wandered while you walked; you wondered what Alcina was really like as a human, what your lives could be like if you'd met back then, all the time you could spend together and all the things you would do. Thinking about walking hand in hand with her through the city, catching an opera at the Metropolitan Opera Theatre, adventuring through Central Park, maybe traveling the rest of the world like she had always dreamed... maybe the two of you would have found the perfect flat, or cottage, or penthouse to settle down in, get a cat or a dog or have a farm with a horse or two and just... be together for the rest of your lives.

Somehow the glee and lightheartedness of the thoughts turned somber as you walked through your door.

The rest of your lives.

You were human, she was immortal.

Shoots that concept in the face a little, doesn't it.

Unless...

Noooo, no, nope. You weren't sure you'd make a very good vampire. You liked the sun and food and freedom to live in the day and night and stuff.

But then again, if you were with Alcina, maybe it wouldn't be so bad? Maybe you could get used to being on the arm of the Grand Matriarch of the vast vampire underground. It would sure give you a lot of time to learn all the things you wanted to learn, read all the books you wanted, never have to have a 9 to 5 job ever again. Ooo... that idea you liked a hell of a lot.

But truthfully, the thought you liked the most was being with her, forever.

~

Evening was settling in fast as the sun started to tuck itself into bed. You plopped your beanbag chair out on the tiny balcony and lounged while reading another book, patiently waiting for your Lady of the Shadows to join you.

When the sky turned too dark to read you simply leaned back and emersed yourself in the night. Listening. Smelling. Feeling. Closing your eyes and being completely present in the now.

You were so immersed in the zone you almost thought you could sense Alcina near. Could smell her perfume on the gentle wafting breezes like so may times before, only now you felt you could hear her heels clicking softly on the sidewalk as she approached, hear the inaudible splitting of the atmosphere as she leapt through it to scale your building and gracefully climb up onto your balcony -

"Draga mea."

Her voice startled you and your eyes shot open.

Alcina's beautiful knowing smile met your gaze and you couldn't help but mirror it.

Well that was oddly and perfectly timed.

"Hey you," you lilted as you rose and met her for a slow embrace.

She smelled so wonderful you breathed her in deep as you could, holding her tight as she did the same.

Not wishing to break the embrace but needing your lips, Alcina carefully pried the two of you apart and claimed them. Soft, gentle, thoughtful kisses as she cupped your face now with her cool hands.

"I've missed you," she confessed with a whisper.

"Me too," came your reply just as softly, pulling back to admire her pale slate colored eyes, "sometimes the days feel like weeks, not gunna lie."

Alcina chuckled lightly as she caressed the side of your face, all her worries and fears and unwanted thoughts long gone, fought off by your beauty and calming aura.

"If you only knew," her smile was warm and bright, eyes twinkling with a thought, "would you care to spend some time on the roof with me, draga mea?"

"I will spend time with you literally anywhere."

Her toothy, brilliant smile was the last thing you saw before your surroundings blurred and she was carefully releasing you from her grasp on top of the building.

The silent cuddling on the couch was blissful. She was tucked into the crook of the plush chair arm, your back pressed to her chest, her long arms draped over you with her hands resting comfortably on your front, her cheek pressed to the side of your head as you both relished in the comfort of your own little world hidden above everyone and everything.

Minutes turned into hours and your unspoken conversations finally came to an end.

"Alcina," you said, tracing your fingertip over Alcina's long elegant digits that rest over your chest.

"Yes?" came her soft reply.

Your eyes darted to the scenery before you, slightly hesitant to continue.

The dull amber glow below the buildings was gentle on the eyes. The towering blackness of these structures broken apart here and there by night owls burning the midnight oil, the little glowing squares beacons of life in the otherwise dark sky. Somehow, even though you were surrounded by life, it felt like you two were the only ones in the world. It made your heart sputter.

"You and I..." you began again, "are we... what... what are we, exactly? Where is this going?"

Alcina blinked long and hard.

For a vampire, there was no need for definition of something, no need for timelines, no use for direction. Being a vampire was all about simply being. Because truly that's all there really was to do.

You were different. Of course you would want and need clarification, a plan, or at least a destination. You didn't have all the time in the world.

She sighed.

She didn't have answers.

"I... don't know draga. I had not planned for you, and I don't hold expectations of you... I only know what we have."

That... wasn't what you were looking for.

Carefully you pulled away and faced her in the darkness, studied her expression that was open and settled, waiting for you to continue.

"I'm not trying to complicate anything, I just... I don't know, I guess... maybe I'm trying to understand what we are to each other, help my mind process the feelings I have and... know in return where you stand."

Oh, you were such a complex, intelligent and deeply feeling human. You were everything she wished she could have been when she was alive.

Her heart lurched for you at your timid admission.

Alcina reached for your jaw and cupped it, considering you with all her might as she desperately fought to know how to say what she wanted to, or if she should, or what lay in the hidden doors of the very uncertain future before the two of you. She knew that's what you wanted to know, she knew you were wanting to understand what there was beyond the horizon of today, and she had no more right to tell you what she didn't know than she did keeping you in the dark.

You deserved honesty. Transparency. Only the best of everything.

Your name fell from her lips like a confession, Alcina's hesitancy to drop every guard for you putting a hitch in her words only briefly, "you..." she stalled once more, feeling the overwhelm try to sink her to the bottom, it had been so long since she had felt this way, "you are dearer to me than I feel I can make you understand... I don't have answers to where you and I are going, I don't have answers to what lies in the future, but I do know that my feelings for you are real. You are not replaceable, you are not disposable, and you are not a thing of pleasure for me to use and discard. I - "

Say it, Alcina, say it goddammit.

The words were stuck in her throat and she didn't know how to get them out.

Her flooding of emotions was pelting you like a hailstorm. Torrential, overpowering, sending you into the same careening overwhelm until you couldn't handle it anymore.

You gripped the hand that was still clasped to your jaw and inched closer, watching her chained up expression silently begging to be let loose.

In a breath you leaned in and kissed her. Hard. Pulling back just enough to utter the words you wanted, needed to.

"I love you, Alcina Dimitrescu. That's it. That's all I really want you to know."

Oh, god.

Alcina felt the piercing warmth of your admission split her armor in half, releasing the pent up flood that was imminently due to happen eventually.

Releasing the breath she had on a short leash she pressed her forehead to yours and closed her eyes as she tried to stabilize the crumbling sure-footing she thought she could be able to keep. She'd wanted to hear those words from you more than she ever wanted to admit. And here they were.

"I love you too, draga mea," she whispered, unable to keep it sealed behind her lips any longer, "I love you too, so very much."

The explosion of fervor between the two of you could have crumbled marble walls.

You fell into her and she couldn't have pulled you closer. Your lips danced and danced until a fang sliced your red and swollen bottom lip. Alcina licked hungrily at the wound and the wildfire only began to spread.

Urging her on you broke the impetuous kiss and craned your neck by her mouth, breathlessly telling her to take it, to drink, to knot the two of you together in this passion until it was too much for the both of you.

Alcina's desire took hold and she sunk her teeth in, gorging herself on your blood that made her feel more alive than ever before. Your moans and pleasure and pain fueled her need and soon she had you beneath her on the couch.

She licked and kissed at your wound and trailed her lips to yours once more, tenderly brushing them over yours that were softly panting.

"Can I keep you, draga mea?" she whispered to you, "Will you be mine?"

Weaving your way through the euphoria of her bite, you smiled at her request, beaming with pride to hear it.

"Yes, keep me, I'm yours... all yours."

[marahuyos]

anon asked: If requests are still open, I'd like to request claude, edelgard, dimitri and maybe yuri (pre or post timeskip) from fe 3h having to deal with an impulsive s/o who is overprotective if you don't mind me asking

*:･ﾟ✧ i may have messed up the request so sorry sksks

gn!reader

tw: spoilers for all post timeskip routes

✧ Claude von Riegan

• He feels exhilarated and curious all at the same time. He’s never met anyone that piqued his interest as hard as Byleth and... they were Byleth. He hasn’t seen anyone who was as outspoken as you are even when he’s seen a lot of common folk. Hell, even when you two are together, he feels like he hasn’t cracked you down even though you bare your heart to him so easily. He hates the feeling but at the same time he would revel in the risk of leaving him vulnerable for someone that wasn’t himself.

• Speaking of laying bare, he’s not used to this-to have someone else care for him. All his life, he had only himself to depend on, not trusting the words from Almyra and Fodlan alike. He keeps everyone at a respectable distance from his heart and he was content with that.

• But when you came along, everything changed for him.

• He still remembers the day that he first saw you; he was assigned weeding duty from Byleth due to another prank caused by him. Alongside Claude, they picked you, a random student who wanted to be an armored knight at some point, so you always asked Byleth to assign you in weeding. Not the best type of training for your calves and spine but at least it's something productive for Garreg Mach.

• Of course, Claude wouldn't want to pick out weeds so his next scheme is to see how far he could annoy you. Not that he bared any resentment towards you but hey, a man has to kill boredom somehow. Before he could try and see if he could get a beetle to drop in your clothes, other students strolled by. Faceless ones that Claude won't probably remember but he knows that they were the types who mutter under their breath on anything that they find hilarious.

     • "Look at that," one of them says to their friend, "a rat and a loudmouth doing the church's work."      • "Honestly, what were they thinking of letting trash like them in Garreg Mach?"

• Claude could care less about petty words, he's grown past them. But he was taken aback when you raised your voice at the two. "Don't call me a loudmouth if I wring you both by the necks in the next mock battle!"

• And after disposing the beetle, disarming the possible fight that was happening in a weedy field, and convincing Seteth that no, it was not Claude who started the fight this time, he's found an interest in you. He hasn't had this impulsive person in his life other than Judith and it scares him. It scares him that he places his trust in you, knowing that you would say what ever is on your mind and that you might find him repulsive like a street rat.

• But you never do. Past your brazen personality and iron fists when it comes to defending Claude, you still treat him like a person ("Because you deserve it, dumbass. Don't go making a spiel on how mysterious you are.").

• Even when he became the King of Unification, people would remember how he stares at you in absolute reverence whenever you tell him that the new Leicester Alliance is making your head spin harder than Lorenz's pick-up lines.

✧ Edelgard von Hresvelg

• She's grown an interest in you. She's never met anyone who ever spoken their mind so freely compared to you. Sure there was Dorothea, but even the girl has secrets that she keeps to herself. To you, listening to your random spiels about everything that you've seen, Edelgard is not even annoyed. In fact, she looks forward to listening to your daily ramblings.

• Even when people began to talk behind your backs, she still invites you to tea time as you talk. She doesn't mind them but she knows when you hear them as she sighs through her nose when she hears your insults to them. It was another fight that she has to dismiss and another apology towards Seteth.

• Still, she wouldn't change it for the world. Not when you tell her that she was the stupidest person alive to issue a worldwide purge, when she could've headed towards a less bloody path, when she didn't have to waste what little is left of her precious life. She could only let a tired smile stretch across her face as she cradles your bloodied hands.

     • "Maybe so," she said, "but at least... I am somewhat sane when I have you to bring me back to reality."

• Despite this, you never detached from Edelgard's side. As dutifully as her personal guard and lover, you defended her from outlandish cries, from assassination attempts, from her own demons that plague her mind. Your brash words and physical strength is what kept the woman grounded and like hell is Edelgard going to let you go.

• Even when going down in history, historians depicted Edelgard as a ruthless ruler clad in red with her lover holding her like she was their world.

✧ Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd

• He's met his fare share of impulsive people such as Sylvain and Felix. But he hasn't met anyone such as yourself. He practically had heart eyes already when you started spewing how awesome he was a throwing his spear and how he was practically cool in general. He's never met anyone so honest as you that it scares him.

• It scares him how easily it must be to break your heart should he reject you (but thank Seiros he didn't, he'd be a damn fool to do so). But he sees that you were tough as nails. He sees that you don't break as easily compared to plates or the sewn items Mercedes had made. He can't help but be thankful for someone who's as solid as a rock, for someone he can rely on when he feels the winds of change course.

• ... Is what I've described but it's really just holding Dimitri's hand while he blushes so hard you fear he might pass out while you were staring at him with a dumb smile.

• It doesn't help that both of you are overprotective of each other. It wouldn't be long for either party to brandish their weapons at any foreseeable threat. It takes the likes of Dedue, Felix, Raphael when he's available, and Rhea herself to pry you two away from causing mass genocide.

• ... Yeah about that. See what happened in the Azure Moon route. But hey! You weren't the one committing genocide!

• Even if he pushes you away, threatens you, confesses that a monster like him doesn't deserve you, you've returned to becoming Dimitri's anchor. You were the one who slapped some sense (figuratively or literally is up to your interpretation) when the rest of the Blue Lions came back. You've become his anchor and now, his next spouse to lead the new Fodlan in a time of peace.

✧ Yuri Leclerc

• In this case, you were someone in the Abyss just like the Ashen Wolves are. Yuri isn’t the type to let anyone close to him; he only places his trust to those who aren’t savages like Dimitri or Edelgard. In fact, he seems to trust you more than anyone else because of how honest you are even with the rocky start.

• The rocky start being that you were way too honest for your own good. There was no way you survived in the Abyss letting your mouth run like that. He’s always at a complete stand-still when you’re picking fights against his men who questioned his leadership. He hasn’t met anyone who honestly cares for him, the last time he remembers was his own mother. He clenches his fist each time he remembers but it wasn’t anger. He felt... happy knowing that you got his back.

• With you being your honest self, Yuri feels like he can be at ease. He doesn’t have to make multiple personas to talk to you, he’s already seen your true persona. He can let the tension off his shoulders when you say that his current make-up looks like hell and that you wanted to try and fix it for him (and he’ll always let you with a small smirk on his face).

• He’s appreciative of you being overprotective, even when there was a war for Fodlan. Yuri knows that you have his back no matter what and that he’s glad that he has someone like you to lead the Abyss amidst this war. Even if he hasn’t revealed his true name to you, the amount of trust you put on him makes him exhilarating and sick at the same time.

• He hopes that he shouldn’t write your name on his notebook someday soon. But maybe one day, in a Goddess Tower maybe, he would confess to you his true name with your hand in marriage.

[tessiete]

HELLO. *Yeets at you with no expectations or pressure* The grass reached for the sky in uncoordinated brambles. Flowers sprouted in the voids, gasping in relief in the sun. If one was to lay within it, they would be completely hidden. "I thought I might find you here, little one."

OH HI! No, I’ve not completely forgotten about prompts, and yes, I will post at midnight again. 

I fear no gods.

Anyway, thank you @kyber-erso for letting me make this about my boy, the Korks, and his dumb grandpa.

ILU Your gorgeous prose is such inspiration!!! (It was the only part @lieutenantmittens praised :sunglasses:)

Let’s have a title....um...

TO FORGET OURSELVES

The grass reached for the sky in uncoordinated brambles. Flowers sprouted in the voids, gasping in relief of the sun. If one were to lie within it, they would be completely hidden. Qui-Gon Jinn, however, was a large man, and though he crawled forward on his belly, and twisted to lie on his back, his knees still arced above the grassline like ancient monuments on a foreign plain.

"I thought I might find you here, little one.”

Beside him, couched like a barah fawn in a nest of broken reeds, and soft needle greens, Korkie Kryze grumbled out a paltry welcome. He snapped the twig in his hands then launched the pieces into the air above him. They arced high, then fell out of sight, disappearing into the long grass surrounding them. 

“No one knows this place,” the boy countered. “It’s secret.”

“Ah,” Qui-Gon said, suitably chastened. “Do I need a chain code, or civil chit to stay?”

Korkie frowned. The dry litter crinkled beneath his head as he shifted to consider Qui-Gon with all the seriousness of a Mand’alor.

“No,” he decided. “Just a password.”

“Oh,” Qui-Gon said, nodding sagely. “What is it?”

“I can’t tell you,” Korkie sighed. He kicked his feet out straight, flinging a handful of needles into the sky to emphasise the impossibility of Qui-Gon’s request. “You have to guess. Otherwise it’s not very secure, is it?”

Staves - small brown and green slivers of yesterday’s sunlight - fell like confetti around them, pricking the skin of his cheeks and brow. He closed his eyes, as beside him, Korkie flinched away to shield himself.

Once recovered, Qui-Gon considered his options.

“What password shall I guess?” he asked.

“If you can’t guess it, then you don’t know it, and you can’t stay,” Korkie decreed.

“A fair judgement,” Qui-Gon said. “But I am so very old that perhaps I just forgot it. Would you be kind to an ancient, aged fossil such as myself, and give me a clue?”

Korkie sighed again, loud enough that he nearly gave it voice, just to be certain that Qui-Gon was quite aware of the inconvenience of his request. Still, he relents, and he cupped his hand to Qui-Gon’s ear to breathe the secret between them.

“Oh, I see,” the Jedi said. He opened his mouth, and exhaled, the confidential code a near corporeal thing in the world before Korkie slapped his hand across his mouth, preventing the sound from escaping.

“You can’t say it out loud,” he cried. “You have to whisper it to me. Otherwise anyone might hear it.”

So Qui-Gon held his own hand to the boy’s much smaller ear, and murmured the password back.

“Okay,” Korkie said, satisfied. “You can stay.”

“Thank you,” the master replied. 

For a while, they lay in silence, staring up at the wide expanse of sky above them. The firmament above was a bright blue, but to those two votaries it appeared bruised, and dark as the heavy dome of Sundari arched high to dim the effulgent rays so that mortals, too, might bask in them.

Between them, there was perfect accord, both content to rest in the company of the other. There was a meditative peace in the sound of grass, and in the touch of the sun. But, at four, Korkie had little patience for the beauties of the world. Instead, he was much preoccupied by his own troubled thoughts, and unlike the heavy evergreen needles, they refused to settle softly beneath his head.

“It isn’t fair,” he houghed, another twig straining to reach the escape velocity of their orbit.

“That is true about many things,” Qui-Gon agreed. He reached his hand to the earth beside him, digging until the litter gave way to fine silt. It ran over his fingers like silk, weighed down by the oils of his skin, and left a dusting over his palms. “What, in particular, are you most troubled by, my boy?”

Korkie sighed again. His sighs contained whole systems within the bounds of their expulsions. He rolled to his side, facing Qui-Gon, curling his legs, and tucking his hands beneath his head. His entire aspect was bent toward the consideration of his most serious complaint.

“It isn’t fair that Bebu must leave again when you only just got here.”

Qui-Gon rolled to face him, equally considerate.

“Well, that’s not entirely true, is it?” he asked. “After all, your father and I have been here for nearly four months. Since before your mid-break. And we shall not be leaving until after Holyhod Day. That is quite a long time, don’t you think?”

“If I were in school the whole time,” Korkie agreed. “But break doesn’t count. And plus, I was in school for some of it, so I didn’t get to see you as much.”

“Your buir saw you every day, Kiorkicek,” Qui-Gon said, quite firmly. There would be no slighting of his own evergreen, and erstwhile padawan by anyone.

Korkie felt the justice of Qui-Gon’s correction, and thrust his lower lip forward in tremulous defiance.

“I said, not as much.”

“So you did,” agreed Qui-Gon, quick to acknowledge his own fault. “Forgive me. Go on.”

“I am only saying,” continued Korkie, “That it isn’t fair that Bebu is going so soon, and taking you with him.”

“As I am the elder, perhaps it is I who is taking him.”

“That doesn’t make it better,” Korkie said.

“No, I suppose not,” Qui-Gon said. It was his turn to sigh, as he rolled to his back once more, and stared up at the sky, watching it ripple behind the glossy dome, like light over water. “Do you know, when your father was little he used to lie in the grasses at the Temple, just like this, and look up at the vaulted claricrystalline of the Coruscant day?”

“Bebu did? Like me?”

“He did.”

Korkie screwed up his mouth, riddled with scepticism. “No, he didn’t,” he said. “This place is much too dirty for Bebu. He always tells Belli that I look ‘a wild creature unfit for civil tables’ when I come back like this.”

“And what does your mother say to that?”

“She says she loves wild and untamed things the best. And Bebu always laughs, and -” he added, leaning near to confess - “he never gets actually mad when I get mud on his trousers or his tunics. He just pretends.”

“Well, I tell you quite truly,” Qui-Gon murmured back. Korkie’s eyes were brightened with expectation. “When your father was not much older than you are now, he used to hide in the grass in the Room of a Thousand Fountains and look at the sky.”

“Really?”

“Really, really,” Qui-Gon vowed. “And I can recall several instances where he found himself covered in muck up to his ears!”

“You’re tricking me,” Korkie said.

“I am not,” Qui-Gon denied. “On one occasion, he dropped your mother into a great puddle of mud, and she was covered, too!”

“And then what?”

“What do you think,” Qui-Gon said, his eyes glinting with mirth. “He reached in to help her out, and then -”

“Then?”

“Then she pulled him in after her!”

At this, Korkie burst into a riot of laughter, so bright and clear as to startle a flock of dozing echo’lanaar from the trees. 

“Bebu was covered in mud!” he shouted, alive with joy. “And Belli, too! They must have looked so silly!”

Qui-Gon grinned. “They did,” he swore. “Quite silly. Much sillier than you look when you go home covered in needle greens or clay. And do you know what else?”

“What?” Korkie asked, falling silent and reverent again, caught in the grip of Qui-Gon’s voice.

“Every time we left the Temple he missed his home, and his friends, too. Just like you miss him when he’s gone.”

“It’s different,” Korkie said, feeling slightly betrayed by the way Qui-Gon has turned back to beckon his troubles join them in this den. “Because he left his friends. His friends didn’t leave him.”

“What is the difference, Kiorkicek, if everyone is still parted?”

And that is something he had not thought. 

Korkie frowned, trying to puzzle it out, but Qui-Gon spared him the struggle because the lesson to be learned was difficult enough for a master, fully grown, never mind a boy hardly older than a few revolutions of the earth.

“Don’t you think that your Bebu misses you?” he asked. “Don’t you think he’s sad when you’re not there?”

“Maybe,” Korkie conceded. “I don’t know.”

“I do,” Qui-Gon said. “And I can promise you that when you are here, and he is there, he always wishes you close.”

“I don’t think so,” Korkie said. “Because if that were true, then he wouldn’t leave at all. He’d always be here, and he wouldn’t care about there.”

“But he has many duties and responsibilities to do there,” Qui-Gon countered, his voice soft as the brambles below. “You know he saves lives. You know he frees people. You know he changes whole wide worlds, Kiorkicek. And he can’t do that from here.”

Korkie breathed deep, and exhaled. Needles scattered. The curving back of a tiny strill appeared in the dirt beneath his finger, gaining a wide jaw and a long tail as Qui-Gon watched, and Korkie thought about things.

“Are you sure he misses me?” he asked, at last.

“I am certain,” Qui-Gon said.

“How do you know?”

He looked at Qui-Gon then with such belief, such faith, and all at once, the Jedi saw another little boy who’d looked at him much the same for years, who also hid in brambles when upset, who also longed for the reassurance of desire, and he knew that this time, he would not hold back.

“I know,” he said, his voice solemn, and his gaze steady, “Because when your father is here, and I am there, I miss him just as much.”

[thecandywrites]

Blood For Gold Chapter 15

Oooh, Audra's deepest darkest secret becomes known and puts her that much closer to danger of entrapment while the Voyambi's have to admit the ugly truth of their current view of their own heritage vs their station in English society.

@punkhorse96 GURL. Buckle up Buttercup because we are almost getting to the peak of this roller coaster. Because the Komoba battle will be the peak, the court case- the fall and then it's the throws and twists and lurches to follow.

Also Stregabor from the Witcher? Who else could play the most devious of mages? Who else I ask you? Who?

Blood For Gold

Chapter 15

“Oh there you are Axal, I need you for just a moment.” Yalin insisted as she saw him leave his rooms, having waited outside of them for the last half hour for him to emerge since she had gotten up extra early to catch Axal at the earliest moment possible.

“Is everything alright?” He asked as she grabbed ahold of his hand and drug him down the hallway.

“Yes, yes, of course, it’s fine, I just need a private word with you.” She did her best to reassure him but Axal could sense her panic before she pulled him into a spare room and dismissed the servants in the hall so their ears could not eavesdrop.

“Do you have any affection for Ramsey? I need you to be completely honest and transparent.” Yalin pressed.

“I do.” Axal slowly nodded as he frowned deeply in confusion at her, not knowing where she was going to go with such a line of questioning.

“Then I need your help to find him a wife as soon as possible.” Yalin insisted.

“Uh, I don’t..quite..” Axal frowned deeper.

“Axal, I will be perfectly frank and honest with you, Gregori has long had his eye on your sister Audra for Ramsey ever since Ramsey said that she was the only one for him at her wedding to Count Edward Morrigan of all places.” Yalin began. “And it is clear that Audra has no interest in him and I have already given Audra my word to protect her from a marriage of convenience but little love and I fully intend to keep my word, but before Gregori has a chance to pressure her into a match she will find no joy or happiness in, I need to find another for Ramsey. Do you know of anyone, anywhere, in any court who could both be a lady of good wealth, breeding and most of all availability?” Yalin pressed him as Axal simply blinked in surprise at her as realization seemed to dawn on him.

“I must be clear, I have no issue with you having affection or attachment or romantic entanglements with Ramsey. And Audra seems happy for your happiness. And I know she must love you. And I know she would rather much leave Ramsey’s heart to your care than her own. But Gregori has his mind made up and I need someone who will satisfy Gregori’s need for an heir from Ramsey, so that leaves your sister free to pursue a union with another who can give her the love and care she deserves without the expectation of an heir because such endeavors would endanger her life, but...you see what bind we are in.” Yalin expressed.

“Yes, I’m aware. That’s why I have already reached out to Lady Octavia Lafronze, she’s only 27, she can still bear a child or a few even, she has a companion who can pose as my own wife if we need to keep a ruse going for the public. She will be here only the day before the Komoba battle. She’s on her way already. Audra knows of my attachment to Ramsey and until Octavia can get here, she has agreed to “play along” until then and even Ramsey has agreed to switch his “interest” when she does arrive. And Lady Octavia will fill our need. We just need to be patient.” Axal revealed.

“Oh thank the heavens.” Yalin breathed in relief as she leaned against a nearby table and clutched her middle.

“Ok, so here is the other thing. Audra’s case against the Morrigans, I don’t know if it would be best to go forward. I fear it may be more troublesome than it’s worth and whatever justice that Audra has already gotten, I fear that is all she may ever receive.” Yalin hinted.

“Audra prizes her peace. She may not want to revisit the past and rehash and open up old wounds. I will feel her out on this.” Axal reassured her.

“Thank you.” Yalin nodded as she blew out another breath of relief before Yalin gave him a reassuring squeeze to his hand before she hastily made it out of the room and quickly went down to breakfast before an attendant came and handed Axal a note, instructions to him written by his grandmother as Axal nodded and quickly asked for directions to where he had just been instructed to meet with the rest of his family before he went back into his room to get redressed in the approrpriate attire.

By the time Yalin got down to breakfast, hardly anyone was there.

“Where is everyone?” Yalin asked as it seemed that only the Voyambi’s and the Raymonds were at breakfast before Jane came into breakfast and sat down next to Charlotte.

“Jane dear, do you know where Audra and her family are this morning?” Yalin inquired.

“Yes, Audra’s grandmother got her up quite early this morning and they asked for breakfast to be brought to the gardens, they are all preparing for the kamoba battle. Apparently they all plan on participating.” Jane answered.

“Ah, that...that does explain it.” Yalin realized as she sat down as she noticed all the Voyambi youngsters seem to eagerly inhale their food before excusing themselves from the table, Ramsey and Charlotte included, leaving just Jane with the Duke and Duchess Voyambi and Gregori and Yalin.

“Do you not wish to see the training yourself?” Duchess Voyambi asked her curiously once Jane was invited to sit closer to them towards the head of the table.

“No, for the last two years I have watched Audra continue her training in private, although my parents forbade her from actually wielding any weapons, she was able to practice with sticks in the gardens and practice the drills in her room after waking up and before going to bed. Mouras take physical fitness to an extreme, even the women are trained like soldiers.” Jane explained.

“Like the orcish shield maidens of old.” Duchess Voyambi noted to her husband with a grin which he soon mirrored.

"And warchieftesses too." Duke Voyambi grinned.

“It is quite the spectacle. I remember watching my Dearest train for hours before the battle, even the exercises are quite intense.” Gregori noted with a sweet adoring smile to his wife that she did her best to return but Gregori could see something in her eyes and that her smile did not reach them as he gave her a curious look before she quickly looked away and blushed just a little under his scrutiny.

“Well it’s been ages since I even tried the exercises, I think it would do me good just to try to see how much I still remember.” Yalin said as she excused herself from the table after eating only a few bites, to get redressed into the more appropriate attire as Gregori got up and followed his wife before Jane excused herself from the table as well, leaving the Duke and Duchess Voyambi to sit in bewilderment.

“What is troubling you Dearest?” Gregori asked as he helped loosen the ties of her corset and untie her dress from her body.

“You are.” Yalin confessed.

“How do I trouble you?” Gregori asked before Yalin turned around and faced him.

“Audra drank a gallon of mourkatili. A gallon of it Gregori. With such a dosage, it is a miracle she is even alive. She is tainted and poisoned beyond repair. She can not bear Ramsey heirs and Ramsey needs a legitimate heir and woman of good breeding and nobility to give it to him. Likewise, Audra deserves a mate who can be loyal and faithful to her and I know her well enough that she will not put up with disloyalty in her marriage mate. She deserves faithfulness and devotion in all things. She has suffered more than enough as it is and before the ball at Havenfield, she came to me at the Gold Finch and asked me to guide her to a match who would treat her with kindness, respect, reverence, loyalty, devotion and faithfulness.” Yalin insisted.

“Do you think Ramsey incapable of giving such things to her?” Gregori posed.

“Yes, because he is already giving those things to her brother, which Audra is actually happy about. It would make her miserable to know that Ramsey would have to choose between Axal and herself and she would much rather have Axal be with Ramsey privately. But publicly, she can not be expected to act the perfect wife in public but in secret to know that she would share her husband with her brother of all people. And separating Axal from Ramsey would hurt all three of them. You and Ramsey both need to give up on the idea of Audra being Ramsey’s future wife and we need to consider other possibilities and I gave Audra my word that I would guard her against a marriage such as that and I have every intention of keeping my word. She is not the same woman who her master makes her out to be. She has suffered and changed too much at the hands of the Morrigans and she can not produce heirs. She is of no use to us, she is a dear girl but she is a lost cause.” Yalin maintained, choosing her words carefully.

“Oh I disagree, I think this palace is the perfect place for her and she’s plenty useful still, I think she’s finding her stride here and just because she can’t have heirs, doesn’t mean she can’t mother Ramsey’s illegitimate heirs to adopt them and make them legitimate and Axal is free to stay and keep Ramsey company as long as Audra plays her part publicly. She can have whatever affairs she wishes to have, because such seed taking root is obviously null and void.” Gregori readily shook his head no in friendly disagreement.

“How?! How in the world, is she still of use to us?” Yalin demanded.

“Dear, did you not get enough sleep last night? You aren’t thinking this through or not seeing this clearly then. We can use her treatment from the Morrigan’s hand to win over all of their fortune to her in court. You read the letter from the Mage, we have more than enough proof to string them up in the town square. She’s still an heiress of a great fortune and breeding.” Gregori insisted.

“But what of Jane? Of young Count Edward the third Morrigan? Jane is only a teenager and the young count is still a child. What would become of them?” Yalin asked.

“Audra has a good heart, she has affection for Jane, she will make sure Jane is taken care of and of course Jane, by Audra’s insistence is innocent. Besides Audra’s brother seems to like her enough. I’m sure he could always play the hero and take her and her little brat of a brother with him back to Dorierra to live happily ever after and save her from her monstrous parents and the Morrigans can be made an example of. Think of all the gossip papers you will sell telling everyone all about it.” Gregori incited.

“But what if Audra does not want that? Doesn’t want to be in our family? We can not force her to marry Ramsey just because you want her wealth and the court may not do as you say, we can’t afford to buy off every judge and juror to win it in Audra’s favor and the Morrigans have enough wealth to appeal it to the highest of courts where such measures are forbidden.” Yalin pressed anxiously.

“Oh once she sees all the benefits of being in the second most powerful family in England, no woman can resist. A life of lavish luxury with only having to smile and wave and play the tiniest of parts to enjoy it. The komoba battle will reawaken every moura instinct she has, she will see reason and see that our family is the only family she needs or should want to be a part of.” Gregori insisted as he kissed his wife’s knuckles sweetly before he called for her attendants to help her get dressed as she stood there in only her shift, her clothes long since fallen off to the floor.

“I’ll see you down in the gardens Dearest. Don’t worry about a thing, I have it all under control.” Gregori reassured his wife sweetly as Yalin just stared in thinly veiled horror at his back. She knew her husband well, he was not going to be easily swayed and she feared of what other measures he had already taken in the endeavour.

Gregori left and immediately went down to see you in particular as Demsey and his own brothers had gotten changed into appropriate fencing attire so that they could participate as well since Demsey and his siblings, his brothers especially had done nothing but gawk at you and the other mouras in small, very form fitting white work out clothes and bits of white leather armour in places in the outfit.

Demsey had thought he had walked into a fevered dream, watching you wield a sword and a small shield like a true shield maiden and every orc instinct had been screaming at him that at last, he had found a true warchieftess and he needed to show off to you his own fighting ability, as limited as it was compared to the other fighting styles you were clearly displaying. Being in high society, he was used to fencing and shooting, but that was the extent of it. Some of the common orcs still held brawling battles with the weapons of wars of old, like battle axes and broadswords and the like in the clan halls, but such things were seen as unseemly to the orcs in higher society and seen as barbaric and Demsey and his family as well as the other orcs in high society had made efforts to distance themselves from the “common” orcs in such things in order to be accepted by the rest of the gentry.

But now- seeing the style of which mouras fought- the style similarities were clear and perfectly natural. However the manner of the komoba fighting was much more aggressive and meant for a battlefield, meant to actually slay and kill your opponent, with the match only ending when it was clear that the opponent would be one pass from a weapon away from decapitating or dismembering the opponent with blows that would kill the other in quick succession. It was both beautiful in it’s violence, devastating in efficiency but yet had a dramatic flair that was impossible to resist being drawn in to see how each match would play out, where fencing played out on a thin strip of space, this was set in an octagon shape. The spaces lined out with paint in the grass itself.

One had to have a keen eye and lightning fast reflexes to strike and counter strike and the weapons, although these were made of wood or very dull metals, they were dipped in paint to show all the blows and strikes and “kills” that shown up on the white leather armour of the participants with barrels of water and cloths to wipe away the paint after each match with buckets and buckets of paint for the weapons to be painted in- in every color of the rainbow and then some.

Your paint color of choice was a brilliant turquoise and Demsey had watched with eager anticipation how when sparring with your grandmother- whose color was a brilliant copper orange- how your grandmother who was clearly the master and teacher of the group, all others taking instruction from her.

At first she had simply gone over the drills with you, all of you sitting in grid pattern, doing the exercises and drills with your grandmother staying close to you, using surprising gentleness in her critique, offering just as much praise as she did censure about your form of the various stretching poses and fighting poses as she was the first to spar with you, seeing how much you had remembered and how much your body remembered and how much you had lost over the last two years of neglecting the practice.

At one point she had blindfolded you and had short staff and a longer one in each hand and walked around you and occasionally would gently tap at your body to signify attacks, some of them light, some of them more forceful, to see how you reacted, evaded and counterattacked, leaning on your other senses besides sight to do so and Demsey had never seen anything more captivating and it made him ache and yearn to be a part of it, thus, the fencing attire, he and his brothers now sported.

Not even boxing fighters in a ring had so much contact with their opponents as this style of fighting did. Sometimes the key was to keep the enemy at a distance, other times it was to get as close as physically possible to deliver the devastating blow, sometimes it even involved grappling and pinning the other to the ground first. It struck Demsey to see the methods and philosophy behind each move and style of fighting and how it seemed to encompass everything and style and way of thinking and how there was clearly an array and a scale to it. Some of the styles were very simple, others- much more complicated but when blended made something awe inspiring.

Gregori had watched the match with your grandmother until she noticed that Gregori seemed to be waiting to speak with you and ended the session for the moment so that you could speak with him in private.

“Yes?” You asked Gregori as he pulled you aside and took your arm into the crook of his elbow after you had wiped off all the copper paint from your body so that none would get on Gregori or his clothes.

“How are you liking things here at the palace?” Gregori asked.

“It’s a palace, everything is exquisite.” You answered pleasantly, already on guard as you could tell Gregori was about to try his best to sell his son to you as a husband.

“Has everything been to your liking so far?” Gregori asked.

“Yes,” you nodded as you smiled politely.

“Could I speak candidly with you?” He asked politely.

“Please do, I thoroughly enjoy honest and candid conversation.” You encouraged him.

“I understand that from partaking in mourkatili, even with as high of a dose as you have been forced to partake in, that your reproductive abilities are hindered.” He began.

“That...is true.” You nodded, even though in truth you had tried to take pains to use eastern medicine to recapture it. But you could not be sure of your results.

“I want you to know that if you and Ramsey were to ever enter into a romantic attachment that you should know that we would never, ever, expect you to mother heirs. Your life is worth more than any hiers you would risk your life trying to bear.” Gregori assured you.

“...ok.” You blinked in surprise as you frowned in confusion, which was utterly adorable.

“You see Ramsey has had several lovers and already has many illegitimate heirs and if you were to ever marry, you could always save those illegitimate heirs and make them legitimate by adopting them. It would bring them out of poverty and give them the lives they rightly deserve but yet, Yalin and I, our hands are tied so to speak to do any better for them than we already have.” Gregori explained.

“And I understand that your brother and Ramsey have already become attached and it would only be right that he should remain by your side, to live out his days to make sure that you never again suffer and both of you could live perfectly comfortably and happily here with us.” Gregori offered.

“But such a life...it would not be honest,” you began to softly and gently counter.

“But it would be fair. So far the investigation with the Morrigans have found solid evidence and proof of their attempts to murder you. The courts will surely award all that they have to you for recompense. We have the power to make that happen. We can elevate you to that of Dauphine in English society and as a Dowager among the stables. We can get you justice and revenge for what you’ve suffered. We had a mage help with the investigation. He found your scene catcher spell, with the password, we can have all we need on Agnes and Richard.” Gregori revealed as you blinked in surprise as fear seemed to bloom in your chest. If they had already broken the password, you could be finished.

“But Jane and I corrupted some of the feed. The moment of Edward’s death, he was in the act of…” Your voice broke as even now tears came to your eyes at the horror and violence of the moment came flooding back to your mind. “He was in the act...of raping me and he had….he had a heart attack and died. It was so horrific. I had Jane help me strike it from the record. So just by that alone, it’s corrupted and it’s been tampered with. It won’t hold up in court.” You confessed lowly as your big gold eyes welled with tears.

“Just that admittance alone is enough to justify why that isn’t in the record, the judge will allow it and allow the rest of it to stand on its own and it will be taken as gospel and if there is anything else that you would like to keep from it to preserve your own integrity and dignity. That will be allowed as well. You are a lady after all. Not everyone needs to see every little thing, this investigation is to expose the Morrigans, not you.” Gregori reassured you.

“But what about Jane and little Eddie?” You asked.

“It is clear that you wish to protect them, that is truly amiable despite their parent’s treatment of you. I believe your brother Ocearian can save Jane from the shame of what her parents have done. She is, as you say, innocent. Ocearian I’m sure will happily take Jane home to Dorierra and with her- little Edward.”

“What if I want Jane to have her fair share of her family’s wealth? I don’t want to leave her or her brother with nothing and no choice but to flee to Dorierra. What if they wish to stay here in England. Could I at least leave Broadcove to Jane and Edward?” You asked.

“If that is your wish. Of course, it will be all available to you do as you wish with it.” Gregori agreed.

“Do you need my answer now, or can I think it over?” You asked him.

“Think on it as long as you need to, no rash decisions need to be made today.” Gregori reassured you gently which you greatly appreciated.

“Then do you have a piece of paper?” You asked him before he produced a small notebook and a small pencil.

“This is the password to most of it, it should give everyone all they need for the court case.” You said.

“Excellent, I shall get my best men on this, you will get justice and your just rewards for your pain and suffering, I swear and promise you.” Gregori grinned victoriously as he kissed your temple the same way his own daughter before he left again and you returned to the others.

“What was that about?” Axal asked you.

“Gregori asked for one of the keys to my ace. I gave a small one to him.” You hinted as you dabbed at your eyes as you steeled yourself for what was to come, both in the battle and in the court case afterwards.

“So you’re going through with the court case? What about your precious peace?” Axal asked.

“I’ve had a year of it. After this court case, I’ll have a lifetime of it.” You said as you got your wooden weapons redipped in your preferred paint.

“But what was his price for it?” Axal asked.

“That IF Ramsey and I were to ever get married, that I would consider adopting his illegitimate heirs and share Ramsey with you, whereas you would get to live with me and “protect” me from further abuse here. I didn’t give an answer one way or another and all I told him was that I would carefully consider it.” You reassured him before you got into sparring positions with Axal.

“And when Octavia comes, I’m sure she’ll happily comply with those terms as well.” You offered as you blocked his attack and counter attacked with ease. “Just make sure Ramsey knows to put on a good show of being captivated by her and wanting her and only her when she does come so I can get off clean.” You insisted as you dipped and dodged his attack and struck a gut blow with your shorter “dagger” on his middle.

“I will.” Axal reassured you.

“And what will you do with your hundreds of thousands of pounds?” Axal asked.

“Share them with Jane so that she is taken care of as well, hell I’ll even give Octavia a share of it, if it means I don’t have to marry Ramsey and you for that matter so that you can care for Octavia’s lover as your own wife.” You readily offered.

“Because I’m sure Yalin and Gregori only wish to see Ramsey happy, and once they see that I can not make him so and that you and Octavia can in all respects, then that can settle the matter.” You insisted.

“But what about Duke Demsey, won’t he need an heir?” Axal questioned as he used his shoulder to knock you away and off balance before you regained it.

“He does, that is what gives me pause. I do not think his affection for me may outweigh his own obligations and duty to his family. But we are still only friends. He may not wish for anything more from me. There may be another he has his eye on anyway, I will just have to wait and see. For all I know, I’m offending him even now. Proper English ladies do not participate in hunting or fencing or anything like that. It’s unladylike. So the fact that I know swordsmanship may be turning him off of me as we speak, look, even his own sisters sit by the side and only watch and do not participate themselves.” You mused as Axal and yourself finished your own sparring to rest and take a breath of air as you sat in the shade of a nearby tree and watched the others spar as you sat side by side.

“He’s an orc, his orcish heritage means shieldmaidens and warchieftesses are coveted. If anything I think you’re turning him onto you now more than any other. You were too focused on sparring with Grandma to notice how he was practically drooling and because of that, he was the first to insist that he dress in fencing attire to properly take part in all of this. He’s a decent swordsman, but that is all he is. He has no other skills, at least any that I can see.” Axal mused as he watched Demsey and Sierge fence each other in the very English style.

“In this society, he doesn’t need any other skills besides those, and even though they have that past, clearly they don’t embrace it in the present.” You shrugged as you again nodded over to where Amara, Kiera and little Callie watched on.

“Do you like English society?” Axal asked.

“It has its quirks and moments, rules of etiquette are extensive and date back to the medieval period for most of it and they like to pride themselves for having “polite, civilized and polished society”. But with industrialization, their business practices can be barbaric and ruthless, some men make or lose their fortunes in weeks or months, bask in the sunlight one moment or be shattered on the rocks the next with the tides. There are terms like “old money” and “new money”. The Morrigans have the old noble heritage even though most of their wealth has been amassed fairly recently, just in the last two generations. But the Morrigans are considered “old money” and the Voyambi’s are considered “new money” only because they’ve had their noble title and wealth within the last three generations. Their classed society makes movement restricted and women are property of their fathers then their husbands and I’ve seen women in this society choose peace over their dignity because while they are expected to be at home and run the home, their husbands are expected to bring income yet can splurge most of that income into gambling or whores or misstresses of plenty, even Richard has several whores, his favorite lives in Broadcove and his little bastards are being trained as stable boys and game keepers or gardeners, he keeps her to her appartment of rooms like a parrot to it's cage and his illegitamate daughters are being brought up to be ladies maids in the house in fact my first paid companion was his eldest illegetimate daughter came with me to Mirador as my own maid because I felt sorry for the way Agnes always treated her, in fact most of Richard's bastards followed me to Mirador because I treated them like people. Who had no power over who their father was. It is wholly barbaric in of itself. But because that is the norm, it makes competition to find a gentlemen in both name, status and breeding important, but of character- with how polite society and it’s customs dictate, it’s a gamble and true happiness in marriage is a chance. Not a given,. And what a man may be like in public may not be the same kind of man in private. Yalin and Gregori seem to be the exception, not the rule.” You admitted as Axal blinked in surprise at your revelation.

“Do you think you’d be happy with Demsey though?” Axal pressed.

“I honestly don’t know, we get along and we are friends and we have moments where possibilities threaten to ignite but something keeps it from actually doing so. I tried feeling him out last night to see if he would be open to anything and he...he was withdrawn and wouldn’t...he would not make himself available in spirit, he was...he was closed off to me, even with drink in hand, I could feel it in his energy, he was missing someone. He really had to push himself to stay with me mentally- in the moment. Which makes me think that there might be someone else that has caught his mind and heart, who is not Kate Whitesale, or me. But someone else, someone in the past. Maybe one of his workers, maybe one of his secretaries, maybe his favorite maid at Whydah. But polite society means I can not ask him about any of it or even his sisters who would be offended at me implying anything by asking while being none the wiser and completely unaware of their brother’s private lives and are purposefully kept in the dark about almost all of it." You sighed in defeat as Axal just stared in bittersweet fondness at you.

"And who am I to demand answers to such questions from him? He has made no declaration of intent towards me other than friendship. He has only stated that he wishes to be my friend. That is all he has said. And that is all his actions have said as well, at least so far. And I have no choice but to take him at his word. But the longer Demsey and his brothers participate but his sisters do not, makes me think that the same applies even in their family, even with them being orcs, notorious the world over for their proficiency and fierceness in battle even evenly among the sexes, which again leads to be believe that I offend him in the knowledge that I can fend for myself physically.” You confessed lowly to Axal before Demsey approached.

“You fence well Demsey.” You praised as you noticed he was drenched in sweat already and smelled wholly delicious as the very inappropriate thought of licking some of that sweat off of him popped into your head before you tried to swish it away mentally as you damned your own body for it's natural physical reaction to him.

“Thank you, I didn’t know if you had noticed, I know my skill can hardly compete with your own.” He praised which surprised you.

“Well you could always spar with her. See for yourself.” Axal suggested as you turned and looked at Axal incredulously.

“I would be honored.” Demsey readily agreed.

“Are you sure?” You asked Demsey.

“Yes, I’m sure I could learn several, if not dozens or even hundreds of things from you, if you would be willing to teach me.” Demsey insisted as you blinked in surprise as your jaw fell, leaving your mouth just slightly agape, just a little as your mouth ran dry as your brain once again was eager to supply all of the things you’d like to teach him, like making love to you right for starters, before Axal practically pushed you towards Demsey who offered his hand to you to help you up off the ground before you took his hand and let him help you to your feet.

“You would not feel emasculated or embarrassed if I bested you?” You asked. “I do not wish to embarrass you, especially in front of your family or mine.” You whispered to him as you walked with him back to the group.

“Not at all. You are granddaughter to the Great Saharan Viper, and her most prized pupil, how could I possibly be embarrassed to lose to such a champion?” He flattered you as you blushed and smiled bashfully and had the ground had the slightest bit of unevenness, you probably would have tripped and fallen straight onto your face.

“But my skills are rusty, I have not held a sword in two years. I may have forgotten most of it.” You tried to excuse.

“Audra, you will not hurt my pride, do not disparage yourself. I was watching you, you have retained more skill than I think you give yourself credit for. It’s like riding a horse, once you learn, you never fully forget and the style is most intriguing to say the least, so what color should my weapons be dipped in?” He encouraged you as he stood with you in front of the other buckets of bright color paints.

“Whichever strikes your fancy, and whichever you like best.” You shrugged before he chose a wonderful purple color that was a nice contrast to your own turquoise.

“Are you sure you want to try this? The rules of komoba are wholly different from the fencing you are used to. Because all those rules that fencing prides itself on- get thrown out and no longer apply, the object is to strike down your opponent by any means necessary, using everything you have to your own advantage and what can get you disqualified in fencing get you a win in komoba.” You gently warned him.

“I’ve never been more sure about anything in my life, komoba is...everything a proper fighting sport should be, realistic with real battlefield applications, fencing is pointless on a real battlefield.” Demsey reassured you and once again those butterflies started fluttering in your stomach as your heart fluttered delightfully as your smile turned bashful once again and your cheeks flushed beautifully. It seemed Demsey’s own reserve the night before- had seemed to vanish now as a new boldness seemed to take hold of him and you adored it.

“Then why don’t you use the battle axes that orcs are supposed to be so fond of?” You questioned only to see him falter slightly.

“Um, well, I’ve...never had an opportunity or reason to wield one before. My grandfather’s from the war- they along with his armor hang on the wall, and the late king gifted my grandfather a golden enamelled set but they are strictly decorative.” He revealed.

“So...you have no experience with any other weapons besides the swords of the fencing variety?” You asked him.

“Not even broadswords or longswords or…” You asked him in confusion as Demsey’s shoulders sagged in shame as his head dropped a bit as he had to shake his head no.

“No, the commoner orcs still practice such things in the clan halls and of course soldiers do. But since my family and others who are in the gentry, we do not partake in such things and take pains to distance ourselves from such things for fear of others in the gentry to view us as “barbaric” too.” Demsey confessed lowly.

“But do you think such things are barbaric?” You asked worriedly because if Demsey thought komoba was “barbaric” you were going to force yourself to lose interest in him because you were sick of having to divorce yourself from your own moura heritage, you had done it enough with the Morrigans, never again would you do it, you had sworn yourself an oath.

“No. I think it’s part of our history that we should be proud of. In fact I insisted that Whydah have a proper gymnasium to take up the practices again, granted in private because to do so publicly would damage our reputation.” Demsey tried to explain as his cheeks flushed into a deep pine green.

“But komoba is by far the most elevated form of fighting in the world. And it’s a sport I wish I had much more experience with and I wish I could build a proper komoba battle ground at Whydah so that we could take up the sport there too.” Demsey offered, trying his best to not to sound as hypocritical as he felt.

“Well, I’m biased but I feel the same way, that komoba is the best form of fighting however I can understand the need to protect one’s reputation. The Morrigans forbade me from holding any kind of weapon, often instructing the chefs to serve my dinner to me precut so that I would not wield so much as a dinner knife because they thought my komoba training was unladylike and uncouth and would tarnish the Morrigan name and wished to divorce me from it and any other parts of my moura heritage that didn’t fit the more proper “English” lifestyle.” You explained.

“And such measures are an egregious sin, no one should be so divorced from their own heritage, especially when such a heritage is so rich in tradition and color and splendor.” Demsey tried to praise as you just shook your head because clearly Demsey had done the same to himself and his own heritage.

“So, obviously, you clearly resent their efforts in thus.” Demsey realized from your tone since it had sounded pretty resentful to him which gave him hope that he could seperate himself in your mind and make himself as appealing as possible because he wanted to accept you and your heritage with open arms.

“I do. Which is why I’m surprised you asked to spar with me.” You noted.

“Why?” He asked curiously.

“Because while you are eager to learn the komoba style from me, I see that your sisters sit on the side lines, watching with eager eyes and jealousy to watch Benny and Calla and their siblings as well as myself and my own siblings of both genders take part in the komoba training. And it makes me wonder if you or your parents would be taking the same stance with them learning it as well. Orcs are known to have shield maidens and warcheiftesses do they not? Or does your family also wish to distance itself from that history in order to embrace the more proper “English” ways? Especially in it's womenfolk?” You questioned as Demsy looked at you in shock yet realization as he looked from you to his sisters and back to you again as once again, shame and embarrassment began to eat at him.

“Audra, please, please forgive me, I didn’t even think...or consider...any of that. If you will excuse me for just a moment, I need to rectify this, immediately.” Demsey realized as he put his weapons down in the grass and immediately left and went over to his sisters who were sitting under a canopy to protect them from the morning sun.

“What’s wrong? I thought you looked to be just about to get your wish and get a chance to spar with Audra?” Amara asked curiously.

“I was...until she brought it to my attention of how unfair it is that Sierge, Tzane and I are trying to partake and participate but that you and Kiera and Callie are being excluded and it isn’t right. You all should feel just as welcome and just as included to participate in this as we are.” Demsey insisted to his eldest sister.

“Thank you! Finally!” Kiera exclaimed exasperated before she got up and went over to Benny and asked if Benny had an extra set of komoba clothes as Amara smiled happily and did the same with Calla as Callie bravely went up to you as you readily agreed to let her borrow your own spares as all of you re-entered the castle to get redressed just as the Duke and Duchess Voyambi left the palace to join everyone in the gardens as Yalin also emerged wearing her own day komoba battle clothes from her youth, although she did have to be squeezed and cinched into them because her body had changed a fair bit since her youth.

“So where are you ladies off to?” Yalin asked.

“Oh the Voyambi ladies wish to also try to learn komoba with us, we were going to be lending them our spare day clothes for it.” You readily offered as the Duke and Duchess were surprisingly pleasant with the news.

“Oh of course. With such masters of the sport here, it would be a shame to not take advantage of such an opportunity.” Duke Voyambi reassured his daughters who practically squealed in delight.

“Thank you Papa,” they thanked their father with a kiss to his cheek before you all eagerly went back to your room to change.

“Thank you for saying something to Demsey.” Kiera thanked you as you finished with Callie’s suit and then turned your attention to Amara.

“You’re welcome. Whenever I see injustice and unfairness, if I can equalize it, I like to try.” You answered her.

“Women in English society are restricted enough just in the wearing of our corsets and being “polite” in society, especially on the train to gentlemen who feel entitled to converse with you and invade your space. No need for much more than that is there?” You giggled as you laced up the covers over Amara’s forearms.

“No truer words have ever been spoken. That’s why we never go anywhere without our brothers for that very reason.” Amara confessed.

“So in Dorierra, how young are you when you first learn komoba?” Callie asked.

“Three. As soon as we learn to walk and don’t fall over just trying to walk from one end of the house to the other as young toddlers do.” You answered her.

“Three?! That’s when orcs of old used to learn to fight too!” Callie offered.

“Speaking of, have any of you ever learned any of the old ways?” You asked them as Kiera, Amara and Callie all shook their heads no.

“No, once grandfather got the Duchy, he forbade our father from ever learning any of the old ways. Because the gentry turned their noses up at us and the other orcs, trolls and the like who had gotten into the nobility at the same time were our only society. But at the same time, the common orcs who fought side by side with him in the war, would not socialize with us either, thinking that because we had the duchy, that we were too good for the likes of them. And they wouldn’t even let us go to the clan halls, thinking that we would take them over with just our nobility instead of honoring the old ways of tradition. They would allow father and grandfather into the fencing houses but as soon as they would enter, the other patrons would quickly leave. It wasn’t until Demsey and Sierge were born and were brought to the fencing places that others found that they had no skills whatsoever, and would lose almost every match that they accepted Demsey and Sierge and then Tzane until they got to be proficient. But the moment any of them use their full strength, they get disqualified for “overpowering” their opponents. It pushes them to walk almost impossibly fine lines and it’s only when Demsey championed for the unions that we got welcomed back into the clan halls again, but only for meetings to discuss clan affairs, never for the fighting or anything like that.” Amara explained.

“Oooh, that, that explains it then. I know what that is like. The Morrigans forbade me from even wielding a dinner knife, much less any other kind of weapon. Because they didn’t want any parts of my moura heritage to tarnish their Morrigan name and proper English sensibilities. And I know what it’s like to divorce yoruself from your own heritage to survive. So your family has my sympathy and empathy in this matter.” You offered before you left the room.

“Yeah, that’s probably why I’ll never settle on English soil then.” Benny confessed to you and Calla as you left the room and locked the door behind you.

“Oh poor Sierge, he’ll be so heartbroken to hear that.” You cooed to her sarcastically which got her to snort a laugh.

“When I had said something to Sierge about how it wasn’t fair for him to participate but his sisters were simply watching, he insisted that proper English ladies never should be allowed to participate, and no lady worth her honor in English society would even want to because it should serve as a distinction between the sexes’.” Benny confessed which made you and Calla gasp.

“But yet one word from you and Demsey had the opposite reaction.” Calla realized.

“What I’m curious about is, how you responded to Sierge’s comment.” You put to Benny since the Voyambi sisters had practically jogged down the hallway to get to the courtyard as quickly as possible.

“He couldn’t say much around the mouthful of golden yellow paint I put in his mouth with the short dagger stick before I put him into the ground so hard all the air got knocked out of his lungs, I think he’s probably still throwing up from having swallowed so much paint.” Benny proudly beamed which got you and Calla to bust up laughing.

“Put him in his place, I like it.” You offered with a mischievous smile.

“If he thought that way about proper English ladies, what did he think of us then?” Calla asked Benny.

“Oh he thought we were the exception because we were moura and would continue to be the exception because of it.” Benny answered.

“Double standards at it best I suppose.” Calla sighed tiredly.

“Well then let’s not waste this opportunity to show off how truly amazing mouras can be.” You insisted.

Meanwhile Bellfast, the Mage came to the Palace of Windsor to see Gregori personally, as he watched from a safe distance to see you and the other moura’s leave the palace for the gardens.

“Ah, Bellfast, my good fellow, Lady Audravienne has given me the password to the scene catchers.” Gregori happily said as he showed Bellfast the password.

“Yes, I already have divined it and the second and the third.” Bellfast reported with a meaningful look to Gregori before Gregori quickly led the way to a private office.

“And?” Gregori prompted.

“You need to see this.” Bellfast insisted as Gregori had ushered Ballfast into a private office as Bellfast cast the moment of Edward’s death onto a small mirror in the office as Gregori watched on intently. Frowning in disgust at the scene before a loud crash boomed through the room and Gregori gasped as his eyes went wide as he covered his mouth with his own hand and watched as the scene unfolded before Gregori’s own servants knocked on the door to make sure he was alight and safe which Gregori quickly reassured them and ordered them to leave immediately and to not say a word of the sound to anyone or they would be whipped and then dismissed immediately.

“Who else has seen this?” Gregori demanded of Bellfast.

“Only you, myself, Audravienne- because she lived through it, and Miss Jane Morrigan who came up with the third password to help Audravienne destroy it. It was completely struck from all the records so that even the sound of the crash was gone, the Morrigans were out to dinner and little Edward was asleep, but even the other servants heard it down into the basements. But Jane bribed them to keep quiet about it and old Edward’s doctor simply said he died of a heart attack and the bed was quickly set to be burned and was ash by the time the Morrigans got home. I can recreate the bed if need be.” Bellfast offered.

“No need right now. Do not let on that you know of any of this. I have my own uses for this. For now, only use the first password that Lady Audravienne has provided and compile all you can in a case against the Morrigans for time’s sake and make the second and the third passwords appear invisible and all that they contain inaccessable for now and do not use anything that is protected behind those other two. String everything else together in such a way that the poisoning of Edward is hung on the Count and Countess Morrigan so that they could fully inherit the estate sooner but make it so that it looks like they are framing Audra for it, which they clearly feel she did, and obviously their poisoning of Audra and all abuses to her by them and by the old Edward, I want any judge and jury to find Audra as innocent as the white dove she is and will continue to be and appear so, but also, if Lady Audravienne will not cooperate further, do your best to hang the Wolf Eye on her and obviously the murder.” Gregori instructed.

“That won’t be difficult to do. Also I have recreated all of Lady Audravienne’s mail and all four postmen are currently in prison and their confessions are on the record, as are all the servants who were involved in Lady Audravienne’s poisoning. But all the others who were involved with covering up Edward’s true cause of death are still free and Lady Audravienne's servants at Mirador that followed her from Broadcove are most intriguing." Bellfast said as he handed the latest report to Gregori who took it and read it over, almost giggling in his chuckle as he read it over.

"The Morrigans are of course panicked but claim they have the proof of the Wolf Eye coming from Audra, which other than coercing their own remaining servants to say so, the scene catchers clearly contradict which means we can pin insanity onto them and Dr. Rickets is simply awaiting instruction and of course is eager to say either way in order to keep his liscence to continue to practice his medicine, he claims he did something to the mourkatili to make it less lethal and less damaging to Lady Audravienne's person, claiming to the Morrigans that such measures were to "intensify" it's effect but in all actuallity it was only to protect your interests and claims that he can cure Lady Audravienne so that she can bear heirs without any ill effects and reverse the mourkatili, even at such a dose as was given to her.” Bellfast offered.

“Excellent.” Gregori beamed proudly. “How much is owed to you for such services?” Gregori asked as he went into his own box of funds in the room.

“Oh, for now my bill is with the Morrigans, but I will still happily take my agreed payment from you, however when Lady Audravienne wins her case, I’ll ask for a tip from her in her preference.” Bellfast began to chuckle darkly which Gregori soon mirrored as Gregori handed over a thousand pounds in a stack of bills.

“Yes, she will. I can’t wait to see what she is truly capable of. For now though she is hesitant and weary, let us win her trust and confidence first and only if she becomes uncooperative, then we can use this as leverage, but otherwise she has been a dream to work with and responds best with a gentle guiding hand and kindness, which considering the abuse- is no wonder to anyone. Yes, tender loving care will be all that is needed to pacify her and keep her happy and content. After the komoba battle, every moura instinct in her will be truly awakened and she will come to all of her senses that the Morrigans tried to dull. Oh and if I may request one more favor, just incase Dr. Rickets can not provide what he has offered, find the best mourkatili antidote you can with the added benefit that Lady Audravienne’s womb will be restored to her and her full health that she enjoyed when she left from Dorierra, just in case Dr. Rickets is not to be trusted.” Gregori requested before Bellfast simply took a very fancy glass bottle, wrapped in silk cloth to keep it safe, out of his coat pocket and unwrapped it before he put it on the desk in front of Gregori with a smug grin before handing over the silk itself.

“Only have her drink it after the court case, for now the mourkatili will still show up in her hair under blacklight, since it will purple, if it is still strong within her, it will also show up in her eyes under black light as well.” Bellfast instructed.

“Excellent.” Gregori beamed before he took it and rewrapped it and put it into his own pocket.

“Good work Bellfast, as always, you are the best Mage in all of Europa and I’m so happy that you answered my invitation.” Gregori praised him.

“Thank you for the invitation in the first place. I will happily use these funds to further my own research.” Bellfast grinned as he took his payment and tucked it away into the pocket the antidote had previously been put into before Gregori saw his guest out before he called his servants over.

"Do not let the Dauphine or anyone else know that the Mage Bellfast was here today, this report was sent by a messenger and there was no sound of a crash in the study, was there?" Gregori practically snarled at his servants who nodded yes as their knees had to be locked to keep from knocking together in fear.

"Yes your Grace." They answered obediantly before Gregori smiled victoriously and straightened up and returned to the gardens where your grandmother was now teaching all the Voyambi's, the Duke and Duchess included the basics of Komoba along with Yalin who he took aside and slipped the report into her hands.

"Just delivered just now from the Mage from a messenger." Gregori told his wife as she read it as her eyes got as large as saucers.

"Oh my, this is the scandal of the century." Yalin had to admit.

"And I can't wait to read all about it in the gossip collumns when the matter is brought up in court." Gregori incited with a scheming smile to his wife that she was powerless to resist from mirroring.

"Yes it will." She agreed before she got back into the grid to finish her own refresher course in kamoba.

[etjwrites]

OC Backstory - Emotion Edition | Week 5: Free/Courage

Week 0: Introduction || Week 1: Fear || Week 2: Joy || Week 3: Disgust || Week 4: Sadness || Week 5: Anger ||

Is it over already? This was so much fun! I really enjoyed participating and reading everyone's pieces. Thanks to our wonderful hosts @cirianne and @kosmosian-quills  for putting this on! These prompts filled my mind with layers upon LAYERS of backstory, and really helped me flesh out Brom as a character. Afallon is so much better because of it! 

You probably stumbled upon something between the last prompts, that moved you. An idea that didn’t really match the prompt. A backstory character that deserved exploring. A question that stayed unanswered. For this week, I encourage you to look for these questions and explore them, write on them, and tell me about it!

In keeping with the theme of this event, I chose yet another emotion, the story behind which I'm excited to share with y'all! Brom is about 14 here. (I started writing this and it wouldn't stop. Help.) @yourocsbackstory​

“These paths look treacherous,” Brom said, glancing nervously back at the way they'd come. He and Prentice had been traversing the numerous twists and turns of Hyphantria's revered caverns for quite a while, looking for all the secret entrances. Each time they explored the maze-like tunnels, they went a little farther, a little deeper.

Prentice waved a hand dismissively. “I've a sure foot.” He tapped the top of his boots with his walking staff. “Furthermore, how often have we quested here? These caves are as familiar as mine own hands.”

“We left familiar behind two chambers ago,” Brom reminded his friend. “I'm actively adding to our map as we progress.”

“If on the map, 'tis familiar,” Prentice rejoined. “No matter how new the path may be.” He patted the crystal-studded wall to his left. “In fact, I almost feel at home.”

“The whispering,” Brom said, unease, twisting in his chest. “It's stopped.”

Prentice quirked his head, listening. “Why so it has,” he said, brows knitting together before sheer panic stamped itself onto his features. “Brom, run!” He turned and dashed back through the tunnel, Brom following, the both of them slipping and sliding and cutting themselves against the sharp-edged walls.

Beneath their feet, the earth started to rumble, and dread seized Brom's heart. Would they die down here in the bowels of Hyphantria, ground into dust by the ceiling collapsing upon them? He pushed faster, past Prentice, towards the sparkling glimmer that marked one of the other large chambers whose tunnels would lead them back to the surface.

A sharp cry made him whip around and jerk to a stop. Prentice had fallen, struggling to regain his feet amidst the wobbling, unstable ground. A stalactite shook loose and crashed to the ground just where his head would have been, had he not managed to roll away in time.

Brom staggered towards him, hand outstretched, when the earth shook mightily.

Prentice flung himself at Brom.

Too late.

With a great, groaning sigh, the floor gave way, and Prentice tumbled deep into the newly formed crevasse.

“Prentice!” Brom screamed, dropping to his hands and knees, swaying with the sudden shuddering of cavern. He called his name again, peering desperately into the dark. But while the softly glowing crystal shards that lined the Shalott caves could well enough light the paths and tunnels they'd been exploring, their gentle luminescence was unable to penetrate the deep, yawning blackness that fell away in front of him.

He called again and again, but there was no answer. Either his friend had fallen so far he could not hear him, or he been knocked insensible upon landing. Neither scenario was desirable, and Brom squeezed his abruptly burning eyes shut, refusing to consider the possibility that Prentice might be gone.

No. He had to be alive. Had to be alright.

Ominous rumbles filled the sharp-toothed cavern, more stalactites falling during a particularly vicious quake.

The wisest thing to do would be to run, to flee to the next chamber and worm his way through one of the escape tunnels until he could see the sky once more.

But Brom couldn't leave Prentice here to die. He would be the worst kind of coward if he did that. His first and only friend in all of Hyphantria, who risked all manner of danger to sneak him across the boarder on occasions such as these, and showed him many of the wonders his mother's country had to offer. Brom would save him. Or die trying.

“Give me strength,” he prayed. He thrust trembling hands into his pack, withdrawing his climbing rope.  He kept up the silent prayers. He felt so utterly alone, the jarring earthquake shaking and horribly distorting the natural light of the caves so he could barely walk. “Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,” he breathed, reciting the verses over and over even as his hands shook so much he could barely fasten the clips in place.

Brom tugged hard on the rope once he had tied it off, looping it around for added strength. He looped his climbing pick around his hands, aware he could lose a limb if it snagged in the wrong place, at the wrong time, yet horribly afraid to lose his means of retreat. With one of the picks he struck the vibrating wall, breaking off some crystals, which he tied about his arms.

“Prentice!” he called once more, and again received no answer. “Please be alive,” Brom prayed. “I need a miracle right now.”

Then he turned around, and—clinging to the ropes—lowered himself into the black abyss.

Brom descended for long minutes, the crystals lashed about him providing the faintest light. He steadily climbed deeper, the glow from the ceiling above diminishing until it felt like a distant memory.

This far down it was cold. The quake continued to rage, and Brom grew ever aware of a powerful thirst that made dizzy. But he dared not let go of the rope, not even to slake his needs.

His feet touched ground. He'd reached a small ledge.

Brom relaxed for half a moment, and then a terrible jolt flung him off its crumbling edge. He hit the other side of the crevasse hard, the breath knocking out of him and leaving him gasping as the rope tied around his middle yanked him to a stop. He hung there, dangling in the air, fingers barely able to brush either side.

Thankfully his picks had stayed attached, so he struck out with them, painfully aware that he'd run out of rope, and yet hadn't found Prentice. Brom gulped. He would have to climb up again and unloop the rope.

Ascending seemed to take twice as long, and Brom's arms were shaking when he reached the top. Everything was cast in an eerie blue and white glow, and Brom could feel that time was running out. If he didn't find Prentice soon, the falling stalactites might well block their path home.

Once he had the rope unfurled to its full length, Brom ventured once more into the place that had swallowed his friend. He passed the spot where he'd had to stop before and kept going, deeper, and deeper, the chill of the abyss freezing him to his bones.

And there!

Prentice's walking stick was wedged into a narrow part of the crevasse, two bloodied hands clinging to it.

Brom started crying.

One of Prentice's hands slipped, and he swore at Brom. “I didn't hold on this long for you to lose heart at the finish!” His voice was horse, likely from screaming. The shock had hit each of them in different ways it seemed.  

Ignoring his friend's harsh words, words that were driven by the terror in Prentice's eyes, Brom rappelled down closer. He gathered up the slack in the rope and looped it around Prentice's waist, securing it using a knot his father had once taught him.

“You can let go,” he said, testing the rope to make sure it still held fast.

“I confess, I cannot,” Prentice said, shaking his head minutely. His clothes were torn to shreds, like he'd scraped against the walls the whole way down until his stick had caught, and he had cuts and freshly-formed bruises adorning his entire body. One of his eyes was swollen shut, a jagged cut bisecting it that stretched from his cheek to his temple.

“One hand at a time,” Brom said, getting his hand under Prentice's and shifting it from the stick to his shoulder. He did the same with the other, and the next instant Prentice was clinging to him, limpet-tight.

A massive shudder rocked the cave at that moment, and the gap widened, Prentice's stick dislodging and spinning away into the darkness.

If I had been but a moment later, Brom thought, unable to repress the full-body shiver that twitched through him. He slid one of his picks into Prentice's hand, slipping the loop over his wrist twice.

“You must help me climb, I have not the the strength to lift us both.”

“Aye, 'tis time that I cease clutching you like a babe,” Prentice said, the words meant to be joking. The fine tremour in his voice spoiled the effect.

They struck out together, Prentice and Brom, inching their way up until they reached the cavern floor. Mercifully, the distressing bucking had stopped, and they lay on the rubble-strewn ground until they caught their breath.

“Thank Heaven,” Brom uttered aloud, and Prentice nodded solemnly along.

“You saved my life, Brom,” he said.

They rose to their feet and began the arduous, limping walk back to the escape tunnels.

“I owe you a great debt. I should never have placed you in this position. I . . . I almost killed you. I would not have begrudged you had you fled and left me behind.”

“I wanted to,” Brom admitted, shame flushing his skin. “At first. I was so afraid.”

“But you did not.” Prentice paused for a moment and clapped Brom on the shoulder before they resumed their trek. “I really thought I would die. I screamed and screamed, but you didn't answer. Or I couldn't hear a response amidst the earth's pain. The longer I held on, the more I began to wonder if I were mad for simply not accepting my fate. I had myself near about convinced that I should just let go.”

“Then I saw you, descending into the pit like the Archangel Michael himself. You could have died rescuing me. You looked as terrified as I felt. But still you threw yourself into the unknown. For me. In the greater world, we are yet seen as boys, but Brom—I tell you truly—you are the bravest man I've ever known.”

They turned a corner, and the bright sun greeted them.

Additional thanks to everybody who has read and commented on my work for this event. Y'all rock!

Tag Crew: @adie-dee @writtendevastation @catharticallysarcastic @francestroublr @crystallized-ink

[vajranam]

Giving Up On Meat

Song of Advice for Giving Up Meat Eating

by Nyala Pema Dündul

When I think of the suffering that meat eating brings,

I cannot bear the pain and anguish I feel within my heart.

Oṃ maṇi padme hūṃ hrīḥ!

From a state of emptiness and compassion, you guide beings — 

Noble Avalokiteśvara, to you I pay homage.

Without having trained in love and compassion myself,

I ate the flesh of my mothers while lecturing others about cause and effect.

Without realizing the absolute, I wandered along the path of empty words.

I, the parrot-like beggar of White Rock,

Was practicing austerities and ‘extracting the essence’,[1]

When, one day, while meditating on Lord Avalokiteśvara,

According to the union of stages from Self-Liberation Equal to Space,[2]

My own body and everything around me suddenly disappeared

And transformed into a luminous body like that of the Great Compassionate One,

Seemingly floating in space.

As I looked around while experiencing luminous awareness,

I saw the inconceivable miseries of the lower realms.

And, in particular, the vast sufferings of the Reviving Hell.

One of its quarters, I saw, was completely filled

With men and women, naked and helpless, before each of whom

Stood throngs of evil-looking servants with heads

Like birds, wild and domesticated animals, and ferocious beasts.

Many of the servants held sharp weapons in their hands,

With which to slice apart and devour the flesh of their victims.

Time and again they cut, and time and again flesh grew back.

Victims did not expire until their karma was fully exhausted,

And habitual tendencies did not diminish, but only increased.

For those who had performed ‘red offerings’ it was even worse.

Loudly, they all screamed in terrible pain and agony.

When I had seen this external manifestation of my own perception,

I wondered what might be done to stop such suffering.

And, in that very instant, in the sky before me,

The Great Compassionate One appeared, and said:

“Ema! My son, who has been close to me throughout many lives,

Listen well now, you who are diligent and determined!

You have gained stability in the generation stage of deity yoga,

And have even developed a few qualities,

But the root of Dharma lies in loving kindness and compassion.

Do you have real love and compassion within yourself?

How could anyone trained in compassion ever eat flesh?

Just look at how eating meat brings such suffering!

The results of our own actions will ripen on us alone;

There is nothing the buddhas of the three times may do.

Eating meat has no virtue whatsoever but entails many faults.

It is the source of 400 forms of disease and 80,000 obstructing forces,

And it naturally brings about the 84,000 afflictive emotions.

Other than as part of the fearless conduct of benefitting all one encounters,

Or as a medicine or sacred substance of the supreme Secret Mantra,

Consumption of flesh involves not the tiniest trace of virtue.

Eating flesh is a sign of being either a māra or rākṣasa demon.

It causes discipline to degenerate and negative emotions to increase.

Without the cause, which is altruistic love and compassion,

You will find it hard to gain the fruit, the essence of awakening.

Meat eaters are not accompanied by the wisdom deities.

They lack blessings, accomplishment, auspiciousness and activity.

The substance of altruism does not develop in eaters of flesh,

Whom gods, nāgas and others regard as demons.

Meat eaters are plagued by gandharvas, rākṣasas, māras,

Yamas, ghosts, spirits, gyalpo, gongpo, and samaya-breaking demons.

The result of eating meat is rebirth in the hells,

Or as a bird, a jackal, a cannibal demon, or the like.

Meat eating thus brings suffering beyond measure.

But by renouncing it, you are freed from all these faults,

And will always be revered by non-human beings,

Who will see you as a pure, authentic brahmin or god.

All the buddhas and bodhisattvas, together with their retinues, throughout the ten directions,

Gurus, yidam deities and ḍākinīs will gather around you like clouds,

And you will be accompanied by male and female bodhisattvas.

Quite naturally, you will possess the cause of loving kindness and compassion,

And swiftly reach the fruit, which is the essence of awakening.

These are just some of the inconceivable virtues to be gained.”

Thus he spoke; and then, once my own perception had returned,

I felt as if I had awakened from a lucid dream.

My body and mind were tormented as if I had swallowed poison,

And I shook with fear and panic.

Just thinking of the terrible sufferings of the Reviving Hell,

I wished only to exchange my happiness for others’ pain.

So utterly overwhelmed was my mind, I wept profusely.

And I felt intense, unbearable compassion.

Then, to take upon myself the sufferings of others,

And to purify their faults and obscurations caused by eating meat,

For every mother sentient being, as infinite in number as space is vast,

I made the following vow, true according to the two levels of reality:

“Aho! Mighty sage Śākyamuni and all buddhas and bodhisattvas throughout the whole of space and time,

Have compassion for this child who knew nothing of cause and effect!

Hosts of gracious root and lineage masters, care for me!

Have compassion for this child who knew nothing of cause and effect!

Supreme yidam deity, mighty Avalokiteśvara, care for me!

Have compassion for this child who knew nothing of cause and effect!

Overwhelmed by ignorance and the two obscurations,

I have often spoken of how all infinite beings have been our parents,

And while living off their flesh, lectured about cause and effect.

I had no idea that the suffering involved was so great!

Often have I heard it said that eating meat with threefold purity[3]

Is sanctioned by the Buddha and does not count as sin.

But this applies only to saints who benefit all they encounter,

Like pure lotus flowers, unstained by negative emotions,

And to practitioners of the profound path of Secret Mantra.

For my part, I have no instruction more profound

Than altruistic love and compassion,

And the infallibility of cause and effect.

To purify all the faults and obscurations of eating flesh

Among all sentient beings, who extend throughout the whole of space,

From this moment on, I completely renounce the eating of flesh.

This is my unfailing commitment, which I shall never forsake.

Even if all the animals upon this earth were to be devoured,

There would still be no satisfaction; hunger would only continue to increase.

Deprived of food or drink for just a few days,

We feel as if we have never tasted even so much as a single morsel or drop before.

Now is the time to escape this demon, hunger.

What, after all, is the cause of this flesh?

It springs only from self-clinging and attachment.

Merely to think of it makes me weary, nauseated.

This utterly unappetizing mound of mess and filth,

Bound up with the thirty-six impure substances,

A body of habitual patterns and aggregates, is the basis for all suffering.

Each animal has its own negative actions,

And whoever eats the flesh of such beings will find it hard to win liberation.

Meat and alcohol are impure substances,

And to offer them does not count as generosity, the Buddha said.

Who, therefore, would eat this food of the afflictions?

Pretas must live for many thousands of human years

Without seeing food or drink, enduring only suffering.

But we human beings gladly drink even ice-cold water,

And have plenty to sustain us besides meat and alcohol.

If we are still not satisfied by such delights,

How could we repay past kindnesses so unfairly?

Throughout the course of countless aeons past

In every world within this universe so vast,[4]

There’s not a single being who has not been our mother.

And the milk we drank from maternal breasts would fill a billion seas.

I abandon all pretence; let the Three Jewels be my witness!

In the past, under the sway of ignorance and habit,

I ate my parents’ flesh and did not remorsefully confess.

Now with pure motivation and the four powers complete,

As in the saying, “I was not, am not, and will not be attached,”

Henceforth, may the thought of eating meat never even cross my mind.

Should I ever fail, let the Three Jewels send their punishment.

May the protectors and guardians constantly keep watch.

Were I now to eat the flesh of my past mothers,

There would be no greater transgressor in all the three realms!

The Buddha said that harming others even slightly impairs one's vows.

So what need is there to mention flesh eating which involves taking life?

In the Parinirvāṇa Sūtra, Laṅkāvatāra and elsewhere, it is said

That eating meat is tantamount to killing.

It is forbidden in both the greater and lesser vehicles,

But is particularly unacceptable for bodhisattvas.

Our Teacher himself, when he appeared as a partridge’s young,

And as a ferocious beast[5] in the wild, would not eat meat.

How then could we, his followers, ever do so?

In accordance with the guidance of the Victorious One,

There were many great masters in India and Tibet who gave up meat.

As all this shows, the faults of meat eating are unimaginably vast.

Not cultivating negativity is itself genuine Dharma.

So may I always comply with the authentic teaching!"

Having seen the boundless faults that come from eating meat,

Even the thought of it is as nauseating as poison.

And so, I, the great beggar with the name of Dündül,

Composed these words of advice to encourage my own renunciation

In the Sky Fortress hermitage of White Rock.

As a result of this virtue, may all sentient beings

Purify all the faults and obscurations that come from eating meat,

So that they may see the thousand buddhas face to face!

| Translated by Adam Pearcey, with many thanks to Ringu Tulku Rinpoche for his clarifications. Original translation 2004. Revised version 2017.

[everlarkficexchange]

Everlark Fic Exchange. PROMPTS

Springtime Edition 2020.

These are the prompts we’ve received so far.

Crossed out prompts have already been selected and are being turned into fics!

A huge ‘Thank you’ to everyone who’s taken the time to come up with an idea and send it our way. Your prompts are the heart of the Exchange. Without them, our authors wouldn’t get to write all those beautiful fics. So, please, keep them coming!

You haven’t sent anything yet? Don’t worry, there’s still time. We’ll be receiving prompts until March 8.  Don’t be afraid to inspire us!

Prompts:

Prompt 1: Middle Mellark brother never wanted a baby bro. Spends half his life defending or admiring or manipulating Peeta, but the other half hating him for being so perfect (the favorite sweet talker and best baker wrestler). Whether to help or torment him, Rye asks reserved Katniss on a date to get a reaction. Maybe told as a wedding toast? [submitted by @567inpanem]

Prompt 2: Katniss is a high end house painter who works with expensive decorators, hired to paint an up and coming artists home. Turns out it’s Peeta, the boy her mother saved from an abusive home, who then disappeared. [submitted by @niceworksherlock]

Prompt 3: Imaginative only child Prim loves acting out all sorts of adventures with her favorite action figures Katniss and Peeta. (Toy Story-ish talking toys?) [submitted by @567inpanem]

Prompt 4: Gale attempts to shoot Peeta during a hijacking episode on the Star Squad. Leaving Peeta wounded but not fatally. Katniss thinks Gale killed him. [submitted by Anonymous]

Prompt 5: Prompt has been removed.

Prompt 6: Medieval Au: Queen Katniss is in love. Too bad the person, Peeta is a renounced rebellion leader now turned into the personal sexslave of King Cato Snow, the son of Coriolanus Snow. With each passing day its becoming more and more dangerous for this star-crossed lovers to survive. Will she risk her family (sister Prim and mom) for love or will she be able to utilise the secrets of the castle Capitol in her favour to usurp the evil King and his father? [submitted by anonymous]

Prompt 7: Katniss Everdeen the daughter of a billionaire tries to antagonise her father. So she decides to date poor, uneducated simple boy Peeta. Her whole family (even Prim) hates him. Too bad his father has already arranged her marriage with his business partner's son Gale, a smart, handsome and successful man. Will she really fall for Peeta or will she bow to her father's will? Does Peeta feel himself worthy of Katniss? [submitted by @white-dandelion-seeds]

Prompt 8: Peeta is a rich ceo and in love with another who disappeared before their marriage. So he withdraw within himself. But then he meets katniss( her background is up to you ) and falls in love for the second time. [submitted by @mysteriouslycraftyreview]

Prompt 9: Katniss is a commoner and peeta is a cruel king. He wants katniss to be his mistress. How will they fall in love is up to you. [submitted by anonymous]

Prompt 10: katniss and peeta are best friends who were in a friends w benefits arrangement in the past. now the hunger for each other is coming back. [submitted by anonymous]

Prompt 11: in panem au where everlark isn't reaped and peeta knocks up katniss. [submitted by @sunflowerslyf]

Prompt 12: katniss walks out of the fitting room wearing only a bikini to ask her friend if it suits her but it isnt her friend at the other side of the door but peeta. [submitted by anonymous]

Prompt 13: Katniss and Peeta work things out after the first Games and become closer and closer, and their love grows deeper. One day though, they are caught by Mrs. Everdeen and a fight ensues...(outcome is up to you, as long as it is Everlark!) [submitted by @albinokittens300]

Prompt 14: THG The Witcher AU with Katniss = Geralt, Peeta = Yenn, Prim = Ciri [submitted by anonymous]

Prompt 15: A Below Deck inspired Everlark. Bonus points for including Odesta. [submitted by @historywriter2007]

Prompt 16: Hades!Katniss/Persephone!Peeta Katniss has stolen herself a husband. As Peeta becomes acclimated to being co ruler of the underworld Katniss finds herself bewitched by him beyond any measure she believed possible. But someone is not too happy with Katniss and has vowed vengeance. Vengeance in the form of the husband Katniss has come to revere. [submitted by @lovely-tothe-bone]

Prompt 17: Everlark enemies to lovers, a long standing grudge (could be anything, even simple) but somehow it is discovered that Katniss is a bone marrow match for Peeta. If she doesn't donate he will die. [submitted by @lovely-tothe-bone​]

Prompt 18: A Wrinkle in Time AU - Meg!Katniss, Charles Wallace!Prim, Calvin!Peeta. [submitted by @lovely-tothe-bone​]

Prompt 19: Everlark inspired by Netflix show Love is blind. [submitted by anonymous]

Prompt 20: Peeta is the CEO and katniss is his secretary. They have an affair and katniss gets pregnant but when she tells peeta he doesn't believe her and accuse her of trying to trap him. What will he do when he realize his mistake and how will he win katniss back. [submitted by anonymous]

Prompt 21: High school romance based on the movie Wild Child. [submitted by @mysteriouslycraftyreview]

Prompt 22: Set in early 20th century. Katniss and Peeta are from two rival families who have been enemies since forever. They have a chance meeting which led to them falling in love. They are completely unaware of their identity. Will their love survive or will their relationship crumble. [submitted by @mysteriouslycraftyreview]

Prompt 23: Rumor: MrEverdeen crossed fence dividing Town and Seam, kidnapped Mrs Everdeen making her his commonlaw wife. Years later, Mellark sons plan to avenge their father by raiding Seam and kidnapping one of Everdeens daughters for one of them to take as a wife! Does Katniss “volunteer,” does she escape, how do the 3 brothers decide what to do with her since they didn’t plan it all out well? [submitted by @567inpanem]

Prompt 24: After Prim survives her first reaping, Katniss realizes she must have better plan for Prim’s future; fights to reclaim rights to the apothecary; wins it back after drawn out legal battle; installs her mom and Prim as owners. But Katniss not welcome in town for her Seam looks and distasteful takeover of a town business, and she’s not welcome in Seam as she refuses to marry Gale. So now 18 and past reaping, what will she do, where will she go, does anyone need her, can she let herself need anyone? [submitted by @567inpanem]

Prompt 25: Panem’s Mellark bakers are practically royalty, but with power comes responsibility. Peeta struck deal long ago to someday take reigns of Corp and settle down once dad retires if he can sow wild oats until then fucking everything that moves. Time’s up! Must propose! Publicity stunt for Mardi Gras - will bake engagement ring into cupcakes, makes sure his choice of wife will get that one, but mixup! Some girl in D12 gets it by mistake! Can’t admit his error! Katniss feels miracle, $ woes over! [submitted by @567inpanem]

Prompt 26: the night before the Quarter Quell, in the sleepless dark, Katniss and Peeta allow themselves to indulge in the bittersweet dream of a future they’ll never have together (“if it wasn’t us, what would you do?” “I’d want to marry you” “tell me”) [submitted by @rosegardeninwinter]

Prompt 27: Pick a “what if” - what if Katniss was at Peeta’s bedside when he woke after losing his leg? - what if Katniss hadn’t been locked inside her room after wandering at night when she decides to seek out Peeta? - what if Haymitch hadn’t left the train when it stopped and upset Peeta with his comment? [submitted by @567inpanem]

Prompt 28: The truth finally comes out years later: Lily broke off the engagement only after the baker had knocked up her best friend, and for the baby’s sake she had left to run a free clinic in the seam where she does find true love. Her family invites her back to the apothecary now that they know and they forgive her for marrying a mine worker now that he’s deceased anyway. How does young Katniss adjust to life in town; Peeta, Delly, Madge as neighbors; not needing to go over the fence but wanting to? [submitted by @567inpanem]

Prompt 29: Post-MJ, Growing Together. Peeta is finally showing his affection and love for Katniss as they heal and reconnect. Katniss, being Katniss, seems to act like she doesn't appreciate this, and is less than enthused. Peeta, taking this like an adult, stops showing her with the affection and tries to show her his love in other ways. Katniss, however, does not appreciate him stopping those things and set out to try and get him to continue it again because she misses it. [submitted by @albinokittens300]

Prompt 30: When Prim needs a bone marrow reconstitution that can only be accomplished via genetic matched umbilical stem cell transplantation, Mrs E confesses that the baker is Prim’s father. Prim’s best chance of survival depends on Katniss having a Mellark’s child for the donor cells. How does she get one of the Mellarks to agree? And what are negotiations like regarding conception and what to do with the baby once it’s born? What if it’s more than one baby because of the medication Katniss is given? [submitted by @567inpanem]

Prompt 31: “We never see you two so much as kiss in public but last night we all heard you have sex.” Who says it (Johanna, Haymitch, Finnick or ?) and under what circumstances (vacation rental, baby monitor mishap or ?) is up to you. From BBA [submitted by Buttercupbadass]

Prompt 32: Pre-books fic about a young Peeta crushing on Katniss. His friends tease him about his crush constantly, and it irritates him because everyone seems to know except Katniss herself. But he just rolls his eyes good-naturedly whenever his friends say something about it. [submitted by @madetofly]

Prompt 33: Roommates+Friends-with-Benefits: It’s finally March and Katniss is hankering for a Shamrock Shake because “Damned it, Peeta! I can taste the mint!” So he drives her to every McDonald's in a 40 mile radius without luck. She cries, surprising both of them ‘cause she never cries… Peeta takes matters into his hands, buys ingredients for a homemade 🍀 shake plus a pregnancy test just in case. You decide what’s the result and what Everlark does with the knowledge/scare. Extra points for humor. [submitted by @alliswell21]

Prompt 34: Peeta Mellark is the owner of a popular bakery chain and has no time for romance. Katniss Everdeen is struggling, about to be evicted, in deep debt and desperate, she jokingly tells her friend Madge over a cheese bun, she needs a Sugar Daddy to put her trough college and Peeta happens to overhear it. She’s a regular at his main shop, and is cute if a few years his junior. He offers her a deal she can’t refuse. Age gap. Extra cookies for accidental toastbaby and falling in love. [submitted by anonymous]

Prompt 35: No reaping AU. At 19, Katniss considers marrying Gale for practical reasons; the fact she just heard the baker’s son toasted and was assigned a house at the edge of town has nothing to do with it... maybe. What happens next? (was Peeta really married or was it his brother? Does she marry Gale? Does Everlark ever talk? Will Peeta cheat if he’s actually married? Can Katniss admit she loves the Boy with the Bread? Is this forbidden love?) is up to you. [submitted by anonymous]

Prompt 36: Frustrated and stressed out Single dad!Peeta needs a fuck desperately. His best friend, Katniss, unwittingly offers to help him out. Things get murky with repressed feelings, but one thing’s certain, Peeta can’t keep his hands to himself anymore and Katniss is all too willing to oblige at the drop of a hat, regardless of place, time and her own emotions, as long as he keeps whispering all his sexy, filthy thoughts into her ear. [submitted by anonymous]

Prompt 37: Not-Reaped, In-Panem AU where Peeta and Katniss have begun quietly seeing one another. It is very early on and they are really only just getting a bearing on how deep their feelings are when one day Katniss sees Peeta beat by his mother and no amount of will power will stop her from going and confronting the witch. She goes in there on a war path but stops when she sees just how hurt Peeta is this time, with open gash on his leg from when he had fallen to the ground... [submitted by anonymous]

Prompt 38: Everlark inspired by Netflix's Spinning Out (But honestly I believe it was the other way around!) [submitted by @justhereforthefanfiction]

Prompt 39: Taylor Swift - Mary’s Song (aka childhood best friends to lovers to husband and wife) [submitted by anonymous]

Prompt 40: No choice - friends Katniss and Gale must wed to become legal guardians of siblings. Still not enough to avoid financial ruin. Convinced only way to get desperately needed fast cash is for Katniss to first offer virginity to highest bidder. But how to find him or her, how to negotiate terms, does she confide in anyone, how should she prepare, will it all be quick and forgotten as she hopes, what could go wrong, can she keep this secret, can she use a fake name, can she hire a service? [submitted by @567inpanem]

Prompt 41: Inspired by the dancing kid meme. A video clip of either Katniss/Peeta as a child becomes a huge meme. How do they handle it? Maybe it gets them together? Maybe it’s creation tears them apart? [submitted by Buttercupbadass]

Prompt 42: Every time there’s a really bad storm, a bolt of lightning precedes Katniss getting transported to another life. She’s always Katniss with all her memories, but everything around her is different. Peeta is always there, she just needs to figure out if he’s friend, foe, stranger. And, damn it, the storms this spring with global warming sometimes has her in and out of situations before she can figure anything out. Gale complicate things further. It’s enough to drive her crazy... [submitted by @567inpanem]

Prompt 43: Katniss post-war becomes crazy cat lady, dedicates herself to caring for every stray, calls them all Buttercup, don’t get along with Haymitch’s geese. Now does Dr Aurelius make a house call? [submitted by @567inpanem]

Prompt 44: Believing that taking a new young bride every 5 years will keep him youthful, Snow arranges to marry wife #12 from D12. In the hours between the ceremony and the wedding night, he drops dead. 16-yr-old Katniss returns to 12 but now she’s “Widow Snow.” Can she ever be Katniss, district huntress again? With all that $, wedding gifts, etc that were sent on the train with her? [submitted by @567inpanem]

Prompt 45: Prompt has been removed.

Prompt 46: Pacific Rim inspired AU with drift compatible Everlark (or not if you’re inspired by angst). I really just want to see more of that aspect of Pacific Rim explored than what they did in the movie and what better way to do it than with Everlark! [submitted by @katnissdoesnotfollowback]

Prompt 47: katniss and peeta have a one night stand after meeting at a bar. when katniss visits her gyno turns out peeta is her new doctor. [submitted by anonymous]

Prompt 48: best friends!everlark who take each other's virginity. [submitted by @sunflowerslyf]

Prompt 49: "I'm your boss, give me your pants. Now." [submitted by anonymous]

Prompt 50: everlark discovering on their date that they've missed each other their whole lives (living in the same city, went to the same high school, going to the same halloween and nye parties, were set up before by different friends but stood each other up, shopping at the same store, etc.) [submitted by @sunflowerslyf]

Prompt 51: Katniss E, the Valedictorian of Panem High school, is perfect in all fields of life. And that is the crush of awkward, average in studies, not so popular, never had a girlfriend, often bullied Peeta M. Not only does she have a very popular friend circle but also a handsome, popular boyfriend Gale H. Will she even want to be his friend? Is his crush doomed to fail? Eventual Everlark. [submitted by @white-dandelion-seeds]

Prompt 52: “The Tao of Peeta” - maybe setting is as (small, remote, surrounded by wild creatures) D12 is being used as a penal colony for dangerous (political?) prisoners? Bring in other victors? [submitted by @567inpanem]

Prompt 53: Katniss’s parents finally convinces her to attend the military ball because they are honoring her dad after some time of trying to distance herself from the military world. At the ball, she meets a handsome, charming man that might bring her back into the world she was trying to leave. [submitted by @animekpopxx]

Prompt 54: Heart wrenching angst Everlark based on the song “Me Dedique A Perderte” by Alejandro Fernandez. [submitted by @animekpopxx​]

Prompt 55: The Prophecy states: “A powerful witch that’s born from the two worlds,will reunite them and will bring peace. “ Everyone thought that the prophecy was talking about her. And she did bring change and hope to everyone but who ultimately brought the peace was her unborn child. [submitted by @animekpopxx​]

Prompt 56: Who dun it? Shortly after Katniss goes to one of those paint and kiln your own porcelain places, (owner artist Peeta), people start disappearing. The only connection seems to be that they were people she bitched about while sipping too much wine and painting her piece. She becomes prime suspect. No bodies can be found, how are they vanishing? Can she offer an alibi for each disappearance? That guy Peeta keeps popping up, is he following her? She’s sure she caught him looking at her... [submitted by @567inpanem]

Prompt 57: In a place where the world prospers with a female dominated world, Coriolanus Snow successfully does a coup over the reigning Everdeen family with ruthless bunches of man to create a world where men dominate.But the people’s hope is in the form of a Katniss Everdeen and Snow did not know that she was right under his nose the whole time before it was too late. [submitted by @animekpopxx]

Prompt 58: Historical au where princess katniss and duke peeta are secretly sleeping together, are caught, and now have to marry each other. [submitted by anonymous]

Prompt 59: Growing up Peeta started loving her. It was a gradual thing that happened throughout his childhood and into his teens. But something changes when he hits puberty. Her scent has heightened, he can spot her from miles away. He gets a bit possessive. But the biggest thing is when his body starts to heat up and even just the thought of you gets him hard for days. He finds out the family secret of his werewolf genes, something his parents thought passed him. How can he go by with his day and be with her without scaring her away by humping her because of his heat. [submitted by @animekpopxx]

Prompt 60: After severe flooding(?) community urged to open homes to disaster victims. Mrs. E offers to take in children only. Peeta and bro assigned there temporarily. Peeta quiet, polite? Bro constant source of embarrassment? Prim doesn’t want them to ever leave? Does Gale have anything to say about this? How does Katniss deal with it? [submitted by @567inpanem]

Prompt 61: Peeta knew better, but he did stupid things when he got drunk. Now he’s caged at the animal shelter in his wolf form. And, omg, Katniss Everdeen let her little sister drag her in to see the dogs?! He knows he shouldn’t, but teen hormones. He just wants to lick her hand. Get a tummy rub. Hump her leg. Sleep on her bed. Omg, they take him home!!!! He needs to let his dad know where he is. Omg. He needs to figure out his bakery shift. “God, don’t let Katniss catch me licking my balls.” [submitted by @567inpanem]

Prompt 62: one night stand!everlark sleeping together the same night a terrible snowstorm hits the city and everything gets shut down with no way to get home. perhaps a two night stand? [submitted by anonymous]

Prompt 63: katniss and peeta who are exes wake up together naked, hungover, and married. [submitted by anonymous]

Prompt 64: She’s a good girl, goes to confession weekly. He’s a bad boy, on the run, slips into the confessional booth just in time. Now he’s stuck hiding in here for a bit hearing the some dull some crazy confessions of the elderly - and of one young girl with the sexiest voice. May go to hell for this, but he’s a guy and can’t help himself with what he says/does next. One of them ends up saying, “Oh, God! Yes!” [submitted by @567inpanem]

Prompt 65: Everlark fluff based on the song Sugar by Maren Morris. [submitted by @lovely-tothe-bone]

Prompt 66: Everlark post apocalypse, katniss and peeta are neighbors and the only two that make it to katniss's father's bunker in time. Over the course of several years the two have grown quite close having no one else, but now provisions are running low. Do they face the unknown outside or stay put, knowing they only have food to last another week? [sent by anonymous]

Prompt 67: Her parents said that it was just a childhood crush and that she will outgrow it. But why does her heart flutters. When she’s finally old enough to get a job, she immediately gets a part time job to be close to him. Will is pursue her love against people’s negative views because he’s so much older than her. Or go for it and make him fall in love with her. Age Gap Older!Peeta. [submitted by @animekpopxx]

Prompt 68: Dark Coffee Shop AU - Capitol Peeta runs a Coffee/Pastry shop in the poshest part of the Capitol. Near by President Snow’s Mansion. Capitol!Katniss is a frequent customer. Things in the Capitol begin to deteriorate as the rebellion drags on. Are they sympathetic to the rebel cause? [submitted by @oakfarmer12]

Prompt 69: College boy Peeta helps incoming students move into the dorms. Katniss is his next assignment. Age Gap? Maybe Katniss is an older student going to college later? Grad student? Maybe Peeta is a senior, Katniss a Freshman? The possibilities are endless! [submitted by anonymous]

Prompt 70: Peeta picks up a hitchhiker in the mountains one night, only to find it's his childhood best friend and now escaped convict Katniss Everdeen. In a panic he calls police but after hearing her side of the story comes to believe she didn't actually murder anyone. Everlark on the run. [submitted by anonymous]

Prompt 71: King Snow forces the daughter of dead rebel leader Katniss to marry is adpoted son Peeta M and kills her father. P coming to know the truth on their wedding night vows to avenge Mr E's death. K hates him and carries on her own rebellion supplying her next clan leader Gale information from the Castle. When Snow is killed and rebels overtake Capitol chaos ensures. Ally of rebel, a neighbouring kingdom's queen Coin tries to use the situation in her favour. Whose side will K take? Eventual Everlark. [submitted by anonymous]

Prompt 72: Peeta is off a very abusive, poor home. His school friend Katniss has the exact opposite home: well loved and well off family. What happens when opposite worlds clash? [submitted by anonymous]

Prompt 73: I am a simple woman: I just want Katniss Everdeen content and loved and washed in moonlight I don’t care how you do it. [submitted by @rosegardeninwinter]

Prompt 74: Katniss Everdeen is horny. It has been three months since she left asshole Gale to enjoy her life. She just needs a good fuck. She goes man-hunting to a local bar with Jo. The even ends up with her being naked on her bed, with the head of a very handsome blonde, stocky stranger between her thighs. But after her first orgasm of the night when he says: I’ve never done this before, will it be the last? [submitted by anonymous]

Prompt 75: An in-Panem arranged marriage a/u where Katniss is slightly older than Peeta. [submitted by @endlessnightlock]

Prompt 76: Modern a/u Katniss is getting over the loss of her sister (you decide how) when she meets Peeta. She’s closed off but he finds a way in. Maybe she works for him? Him for her? Maybe she cries herself to sleep on his bread scented shoulder? (Please yes I need that) [submitted by @endlessnightlock]

Prompt 77: Katniss Everdeen has a handsome neighbour. It dosen't help that she just came out of a shitty relationship with her ex Gale Hawthorne. Too bad he is a 19 years old virgin boy and she is a woman of the world at 31. [submitted by anonymous]

Prompt 78: Post MJ, the new government of Panem has finally decided to lift the exile to Twelve order off of Katniss. Where are Katniss and Peeta in their lives? What is the first thing they do? Do they just have a quiet celebration or do they go somewhere? [submitted by @katnissdoesnotfollowback]

Prompt 79: Peeta has been planning this marriage proposal for months. It goes horribly wrong. Tell me all about it and what happens next?[submitted by @katnissdoesnotfollowback]

Prompt 80: Katniss helps undo the lies Peeta’s mother (and the Capitol) told him about himself (namely that awful “stupid creature” comment) and reminds him that he is worthy and precious to her and really, that’s all that matters [submitted by @rosegardeninwinter]

Prompt 81: Katniss finds her soulmate at her bachelorette party (aka Peeta)(Happy ending please) [submitted by anonymous]

Prompt 82: Post MJ, when Peeta touches Katniss’ neck wrong, she has a flashback of him almost strangling her and has to be heavily consoled. This leads to a conversation about his attacking her when he came back from the capitol. [submitted by anonymous]

Prompt 83: Katniss is whipped instead of Gale in Catching Fire, Peeta’s the one who’s there to take care of her after. [submitted by anonymous]

Prompt 84: [Historical AU: 1930s Hollywood] Silver screen star Peeta Mellark has captured millions of hearts, and housekeeper Katniss isn't immune. She's stunned when Peeta comes to court her eccentric heiress employer, Madge. Katniss' shock only grows when Peeta offers to pay for her help in winning him Madge's hand in marriage - and access to her fortune, with which he intends to fund his directorial debut. [submitted by @gamesmakers]

Prompt 85: During an episode of Peetas, he locks Katniss outside in the snow for an entire night. Haymitch is passed out drunk and doesn’t let her in, she can’t find anywhere else to go all night so she ends up catching a really bad cold. When Peeta comes to his senses he feels horrible and nurses her back to health. [submitted by anonymous]

Prompt 86: After MJ Peeta has a hijack relapse for a few minutes where he insults Katniss’ appearance and body (more extreme version of when he said she wasn’t very pretty in Mockingjay) which hits a nerve, especially since her body was damaged in the explosion that killed Prim. After he’s back to himself, he feels terrible, but Katniss brushes it off. It’s only when she refuses to have sex with him now that he realizes how insecure she might be. [submitted by anonymous]

Prompt 87: On the train a few days before the Quarter Quell, in another effort to break her before the second games, Snow orders Katniss to have sex with someone in the capitol who paid for her company. When she tries to refuse, Snow threatens her family. She agrees but partway through panics and tries to stop it, only to have the buyer turn on her and get physically violent. She comes to Peeta afterwards and he comforts her, holds her, takes care of her and promises he’ll never let someone hurt her again. [submitted by anonymous]

Prompt 88: Not reaped. Peeta and Katniss fake date. [submitted by @anxiouslyintroverted]

Prompt 89: Amish!world. Katniss and Peeta are courting each other and are just waiting for Katniss to be of age to get married cause Peeta’s 2 years older. But things gets tough when a Snow comes to their county and spots Katniss. He ask her father if she can be his wife. [submitted by @animekpopxx]

Prompt 90: anyone for an Everlark Alcott or Austen-esque period drama? because I sure am so just gonna speak that into existence. [submitted by @rosegardeninwinter]

Prompt 91: ​High school. Peeta is the perfect golden boy. Katniss is a rebellious, infamous girl who always skips class and who everyone fears. She is every boys wet dream and every girls nightmare. How will they both fall in love? [submitted by @mysteriouslycraftyreview]

Prompt 92: High school musical au: katniss and peeta as troy and Gabriella. [submitted by anonymous]

Prompt 93: Katniss is preparing for first Toastbaby and going through some hardcore nesting urges. Peeta, of course, thinks this is perfect and willing to help her anyway he can even if that means repainting the nursery for a third time. [submitted by anonymous]

Prompt 94: Toastbaby gets into a bit of a scrape, nothing too serious, and Everlark struggles with finding the balance between being there for toastbaby but not being too overly protective. [submitted by @katnissdoesnotfollowback]

Prompt 95: Everlark meet cute, “Oh wait... you’re NOT my blind date?” We’re they set up with each other or with someone else? How do they figure out the mix up? What happens after? Disgustingly fluffy welcome. [submitted by @katnissdoesnotfollowback]

Prompt 96: Everlark in the verge of breaking up. Why? Are they married or dating? Do they fix it or go their separate ways? [submitted by @katnissdoesnotfollowback]

Prompt 97: Katniss makes three game changing shots, one in each of the books. What if... she missed? Pick one for her to miss and how does it change the story? Cato’s hand in THG, the forcefield in CF, or Coin in MJ. [submitted by @katnissdoesnotfollowback]

Prompt 98: I would love some good rated E Everlark smut. Post mockingjay, Everlark growing back together and when I say smut I don't mean porn. I mean they need each other. Can't live without each other. Pour their hearts out and heal each other with their love from all the trauma they went through and make up time that they wasted holding their feelings back and pining after each other. [submitted by anonymous]

Prompt 99: Peeta has been spending too much time around his brothers (lol), Katniss makes a remark about wanting a snack, he replys “I have something you can snack on” Peeta is instantly mortified by his stupid comment because he is a gentleman. What happens next? It’s up to you. Could be sexy, could be a different kind of tongue lashing? [submitted by @endlessnightlock]

Prompt 100: Peeta's thoughts/what really happened to him at the end of the war and his thoughts regarding Prim's death. [submitted by @acpoe82]

Prompt 101: The night of the interviews in Catching Fire, Snow delays the games by a few days after Peetas announcement that Katniss is pregnant and demands Katniss gets a forced abortion in the capitol. Peeta and Katniss try to tell the truth, that she’s not pregnant but Snow isn’t listening and she’s forced into the procedure. Peeta is allowed to stay with her during and after, lots of hurt/comfort, etc. [submitted by anonymous]

Prompt 102: Katniss is uncomfortable with relying on Peeta even post MJ(pre epilogue). She only accepts his affection after nightmares, she doesn’t think she deserves it otherwise. She feels like he’s still too good for her & that she’ll never deserve him, on top of how she lacks trust in anyone bc of her childhood & having to be strong for Prim and her mom. One night after a severely bad nightmare she blacks out and come to, to Peeta bathing her in the tub, being gentle & loving & affectionate & soothing. [submitted by anonymous]

Prompt 103: best friends!everlark where katniss sets peeta up on a date with her friend, when peeta and date hit it off she realizes that she's actually in love with him but does nothing about it, few years later, peeta and girl are engaged and after a night of drinking, peeta and katniss accidentally hook up. how they get together is up to you (hea pls) [submitted by anonymous]

Prompt 104: Katniss is captured instead of Peeta but instead of being injected with tracker jacker serum she’s beaten, starved, lashed and throttled. When her spirit is weak enough the capitol returns her to D13 where Peeta (and Haymitch/Effie) help her recover. [submitted by anonymous]

Prompt 105: what if one of them was a librarian and the other a (struggling? or drawing away patrons and stealing employees) bookstore owner (maybe who was more interested in things other than books) - Enemies to lovers? [submitted by @567inpanem]

Prompt 106: Everlark based on the movie Groundhog Day, where one (or both?) relive the same day over and over until they get it right. [submitted by @xerxia31]

Prompt 107: Katniss gets jealous of Peeta paying attention to other girls during their “growing back together” period. Super jealous. [submitted by anonymous]

Prompt 108: A story based on the lyrics to Lady Antebellum's "Need You Now" [submitted by @xerxia31]

Prompt 109: Dialogue prompt: "I deserve better than this!" [submitted by @xerxia31]

Prompt 110: AU. Everlark live across from each other in fancy New York (or the like) penthouses. With all those large windows, they see each other daily and know the other's routine and all he/she does, but they've never met. A chance meeting occurs. What will happen? The circumstances of their living arrangements/any backstory and what happens between them is up to you. [submitted by @acpoe82]

Prompt 111: Hand Porn - looking, breathlessly touching, reading the story told by the calluses, the scars, the strength, while admiring all they’ve done, appreciating all they do, anticipating everything they will do for love - sensitive, expressive, powerful, creative, protective, sensuous hand porn. [submitted by @567inpanem]

Prompt 112: 40-year-old virgin Peeta. Based as loosely as you want on the movie. Everlark, of course. [submitted by @acpoe82]

Prompt 113: Katniss saw Peeta naked in the arena after he got hurt but he hadn’t seen her. During CF while Peeta is training Katniss and Haymitch hard, Katniss falls out of exhaustion and being overworked and hurts her back slightly. Feeling guilty, Peeta gives strips her naked, gives her a bath and rubs healing lotions from her mom all over her. How does he react to the first time seeing her naked?[submitted by anonymous]

Prompt 114: Katniss trips and falls in the quarter quell and breaks her ankle, resulting in Peeta carrying her everywhere. She doesn’t like looking weak in front of the other victors but since she doesn’t plan on living through the games this time it’s good to be taken care of one last time. [submitted by anonymous]

Prompt 115: During the victory tour, for whatever reason, author can decide, Peeta has to help Katniss undress at the end of the day, only to discover/for her to remember too late, that she didn’t put any underwear on underneath her clothes. His shock/her humiliation ensues. (But he tries to make her feel better ofc) [submitted by anonymous]

Prompt 116: Peeta braids Katniss’ hair to soothe her. [submitted by anonymous]

Prompt 117: AU where Peeta wasn’t hijacked when he returned from the capitol, just shaken up, during Star Squad, Katniss has a bad flashback and Gale witnesses Peeta be the only person who could comfort her. [submitted by anonymous]

Prompt 118: the nutcracker au! katniss as clara and peeta as the nutcracker. and if there could be a scene with snow, that would be really nice! [submitted by @omercilessmoon]

Prompt 119: “If you were taken by the capitol and hijacked, and then tried to kill Peeta, is this how he would be treating you” a fic where it’s Katniss the capitol hijacked and the second part of mockingjay from their reunion on is reversed. [submitted by anonymous]

Prompt 120: “I know that everyone on the planet is born with heterochromia, but I’m blind, so literally anyone could lie to me and say that they’re my soulmate. Why should I believe you?” Blind!peeta soulmate AU. [submitted by anonymous]

Prompt 121: Peeta has returned to D13 along with Katniss. But she is being forced to be the Mockingjay and portray a new angle, that Gale is her actual lover, Peeta was being forced on her by Capitol and Snow. How does Katniss manage the peer pressure? [submitted by @white-dandelion-seeds]

Prompt 122: The soldiers bring back to district 13 Peeta but he is not hijacked. He has been beaten badly, starved and sexually abused. All this led him to become an emotional avox. Will Katniss be able to help him recover from the trauma? [submitted by anonymous]

Prompt 123: Katniss never volunteers instead she is picked. While peeta volunteers for his brother(what’s wrong with his brother is up to you) and promises him that he will try to win. Peeta turns into the mockingjay ( or whatever variation he will have). [submitted by anonymous]

Prompt 124: In MJ I noticed Peeta became more of himself when Katniss was affectionate to him and it helped him fight the venom. So my prompt is when Peeta comes back from being hijacked Katniss realizes this sooner and it starts off slow at first but then they get to the point of having sex and it pretty much heals him completely. HEA for Everlark please. [submitted by anonymous]

Prompt 125: EFE Prompt: Everlark + Faith. Be it in people, spiritual, or otherwise. Explore the loss of it, regaining of it, or finding it for the first time. [submitted by anonymous]

Prompt 126: Anything AU based on the song “Talk” by Hozier. Simple enough I think. [submitted by @theliferuiner]

Prompt 127: The earth is in perilous danger from a great evil and only Katniss can stop it. [submitted by anonymous]

Prompt 128: Peeta saves Katniss from being raped by someone in the capitol. [submitted by anonymous]

Prompt 129: Katniss & Peeta had a baby. But then miscommunication caused them to split. Peeta is still heavily involved in his baby's life. Katniss is seeing someone else & quickly rising in socioeconomic status with her talent as singer. Peeta on the other hand is facing more & more troubles with his family life. He isn’t being able to spare time their child. Its also becoming difficult for him to keep up with Katniss. Will their rift grow? Or will Katniss finally acknowledge her true feelings for him? [submitted by anonymous]

Prompt 130: What if Haymitch hadn’t said thise words to Katniss when Peeta joined Star-squad in Mockingjay? Would Katniss have come to her senses or would she be still angry at Peeta. A Mockingjay AU. [submitted by @white-dandelion-seeds]

Prompt 131: “Do you love me? Do you really? Because I go through every day of my life, thinking that nobody loves me.” [submitted by anonymous]

Prompt 132: Both Mellark brothers, eldest and youngest love Katniss Everdeen. She is engaged to the eldest but her heart belongs to the youngest. Jealous!Peeta. [submitted by anonymous]

Prompt 133: Birth of their first child. Peeta helping and supporting Katniss. [submitted by anonymous]

Prompt 134: Visual Prompt. To see it go HERE [submitted by @javistg]

Prompt 135: Non specific prompt. Peeta called Katniss baby as a pet name. [submitted by anonymous]

Prompt 136: Katniss gets stung pretty bad by tracker jackers post mockingjay. [submitted by anonymous]

Prompt 137: Friends to lovers road trip au! Katniss wants to take a summer off to explore the country, Peeta volunteers to go with her. Bonus points if one of them is an absolutely oblivious idiot. [submitted by anonymous]

Prompt 138: Everlark loosely based off 90 day fiance. Could be AgeGap, one could have ulterior motives(until they end up catching real feelings), or it's a genuine connection. Author decides. [submitted by anonymous]

Prompt 139: There are fics where Peeta's mom tries to set him up with town girls. What if Peeta's mom tries to set him up with Katniss for once. Maybe both moms team up together? [submitted by anonymous]

Prompt 140: In Panem AU where Peeta is a Mail Order Husband. As the youngest son of a merchant class Capitol family, he has accepted he will never inherit the family bakery. But when his family contract him to an arranged marriage to further the business he will never own, he escapes by signing up to a programme to relocate and marry a district woman. Why Katniss needs a husband, is up to the author. Everlark endgame :) [submitted by @louezem]

Prompt 141: Katniss is the lone victor of 74th Annual Hunger Games. Peeta is a Capitaloit. Snow forces Katniss to be like other victor. How will they meet? How will they fall in love? What will happen when the revolution starts? [submitted by anonymous]

Prompt 142: Gale comes to district 12 again years after mockingjay and runs into a little girl shooting an arrow, only to find out it’s Katniss and Peetas daughter. [submitted by anonymous]

Prompt 143: The girl of my dreams asked me if I needed a ride home from campus so I obviously let her drive me home then walked back to campus a couple of hours later to get my car. [submitted by anonymous]

Prompt 144: Peeta's perspective. A more in-depth look at how he joined and tricked the Careers and led them away from Katniss in the Hunger Games. [submitted by @acpoe82]

Prompt 145: Not reaped; Snow overthrown; D12 unscathed; miners unionize; postwar prosperity; Seam transformation; Hob center of commerce. Teens Katniss and Peeta have new options and new pressures. How do they navigate this new reality? How do they handle graduating? How do they find their way to each other without reaping and with seam now middle class and restrictions lifted? [submitted by @567inpanem]

Prompt 146: Powerful Matchmaker arranges marriage between Everdeen girl (to whom she owes a big favor) and the young cinnamon scented baker boy the girl has loved ever since he first slipped her a sugar cookie with her namesake flower beautifully decorated in frosting, the yellow primrose. What will Katniss do when she only learns of it in church as the first of the 3 Sunday banns are read? Has she ever spoken to Peeta? Will she search her feelings for him? Will he object to the match? Does he have any say? [submitted by @567inpanem]

Prompt 147: The movie "Me Before You" Everlark style. [submitted by @acpoe82]

Prompt 148: Gale dosen't design the bomb but someone else does. Prim lives, but Katniss still kills snow. Gale cones back to district 12 along with Katniss. But problems arise when Peeta cones back too. Eventual Everlark. [submitted by anonymous]

Prompt 149: Peeta is whipped in catching fire instead of gale. [submitted by anonymous]

Prompt 150: Everlark based on the movie Blast from the Past starring Brendan Frasier and Alicia Silverstone. Peeta’s family lives in a bomb shelter for an extended period of time and he has to leave and venture out by himself with no knowledge of the current world. He hires Katniss to help him out and they fall in love. (Rough summary!) Rated M/E would be spectacular! [submitted by anonymous]

Prompt 151: Everlark based on the song ocean avenue. [submitted by anonymous]

Prompt 152: King Peeta Mellark of Panem is looking for a wife, and he isn't getting any younger. None of the potential suitors does it for him - until he runs across local dragon slayer Katniss Everdeen after his kingdom comes under attack. She's exactly what he wants. The only problem? She absolutely hates him and it's up to him to convince her to marry him. [submitted by anonymous]

Prompt 153: Katniss opens up to Peeta about her insecurities about herself and about how he’s too good for her. [submitted by anonymous]

Prompt 154: One where Katniss is humiliated and Peeta makes her feel better. [submitted by anonymous]

Prompt 155: Post Mockingjay but before epilogue, Katniss has a good dream about her dad still being alive and how much he’d like Peeta and how wonderful everything would be. When she wakes up at first she doesn’t realize it was a dream, but when she does she’s absolutely inconsolable. Peeta comforts her the best he can. [submitted by anonymous]

Prompt 156: Just any or maybe multiple times Katniss got her period around Peeta. [submitted by anonymous]

Prompt 157: Unfocused while hunting from a nightmare the night before an animal sneaks up on Katniss and injured her, not deathly but enough that she can’t make it home on her own. Peeta gets worried when she’s not back after dark and goes after to find her freezing cold and bleeding and shivering. [submitted by anonymous]

Prompt 158: Toastbabies make breakfast in bed for their parents anniversary, only to walk in on them doing the do. [submitted by anonymous]

Prompt 159: Katniss tries to make herself up to look pretty for Peeta but doesn’t know how to do it well and it’s a disaster but he thought she was beautiful just as she was. [submitted by anonymous]

[katerinawinters]

The Witcher: No Turning Back Chapter 7

"You're not focused. Again!" Geralt barked as he held the wooden sword with both hands, readying to attack her once again.

 Wiping the sweat off her face with the back of her sleeve, Ciri exhaled and bent her knees slightly as she prepared herself for the oncoming attack.

 He was right, she was not focused whatsoever. Ever since she was awoken by the witcher's deep rumbling voice to wake up and get dressed she had been lost in her thoughts. She watched him dress, wash, and eat; all the basic preparations for the day as if nothing monumental happened last night. His gaze did not shy away from hers nor did it settle on her with a familiar warmth like she hoped it would. Geralt did none of the things one might expect would happen after events akin to last night, today was treated like any other day--she was his ward and he was her teacher and guardian.

 Lifting her wooden sparring sword at the last possible second, she deflected his first blow and spun around to deliver her own. He deflected it. Stepping back, she quickly scanned her next point of assault while keeping an eye on his movements, but her thoughts strayed yet again.

 He must regret what happened between them last night, Ciri concluded with a pang of hurt in her chest. What she thought was monumental and wonderful was probably just a monumental mistake to him.

 Sidestepping his oncoming swing, she noticed his disapproving grimace. He wanted her to attack and successfully deflect all his attacks, not to evade. Well, he wasn't the only one disappointed. The anger that had been churning in the base of her stomach all day, from the time they left the inn and until they finally stopped in this sunny glade, dispersed into her veins and filled her with a jolt of chaotic energy.

 Watching him raise his sword over his head to deal out a painful blow, Ciri's eyes met his and narrowed. For the briefest second, she registered the surprise in his amber eyes just before it was overshadowed by realization. With barely a flick of her wrist she met his sword high above her head with her own and planted her foot in the center of his stomach and pushed. Power from deep within, white hot and foreign pulsed through her sending Geralt sliding back a few feet. Blinking in fearful confusion, Ciri stood there frozen to the spot as she registered what just happened. Frightened she looked up to Geralt, ready to see his disgust and anger at the revealed secret.

 Geralt looked at her with a small smirk. "I was wondering when I would see your power."

 "You knew," she whispered, barely finding her voice over the slow fading fear and rising confusion.

 Tapping the long wooden sword uninterestedly on the toe of his shoe, Geralt nodded. "I assume it is why the Nilfgaard wants you so badly. Power of any sort is always sought. Power like yours and power like your mother's," he added in a tone so soft and so oddly reverent for the white haired warrior that it caused the back of her eyes to sting with threatened tears as he continued. "is especially prized."

 "I…my grandmother told me to tell no one about it."

 Geralt nodded solemnly. "That is good advice. The man who brags about a pocket full of gold is the man that is sure to get robbed later."

 Ciri couldn’t stop the smile at her lips at his random use of sage quotes. The man was filled with unusual sayings and proverbs that mostly sounded as if they came from an old drunkard sitting in a bar too long.

 "Until you are properly trained on how to channel and use that power, it would be best if you avoid getting angry," he informed her matter-of-factly.

 The smile she wore faded into a scowl as she let his words sink in. Taking a step forward she pointed her sword accusingly at the large white haired bastard. "How dare you tell me not to get angry after…after…what you did last night!"

 Geralt flinched slightly at her words. His back seemed to straighten even more so than usual making his chest seem bigger in that moment as he stared down at her, regret flashing through his amber eyes.

 "Last night…" he began.

 Ciri resisted the urge to shut her eyes as she braced for the words of regret. She didn’t want to hear them, she didn’t want to be something or someone this man regretted. The image of his steely eyes staring at her with purposeful intensity last night as he rocked her against him until she found her ultimate please was the image she wanted to keep in her mind forever.

 "Last night," he repeated. "I lost control of myself," he explained gruffly while stepping forward to close the short distance between them. "You are my ward, that should not have happened."

 Though she expected such words it still hurt all the same to hear him actually say them aloud.

 Giving a firm nod she began to turn on her heel, to walk away, but stopped. Looking back up at him, she swiped a wayward strand of her ashen hair from her sweaty face and gave him a pained look of acceptance. "I understand," she managed to whisper out. "But I will not lie and say I did not enjoy what happened last night despite my initial shock." She could see her words hit him like a bolt to the chest, as he inhaled sharply, his glittering eyes focusing on her as she continued. "And I will not lie to myself and say I would not want it to happen again."

 "Ciri…" Geralt's gruff voice attempted to cut her off, to stop her from further admission but Ciri pressed on as if she didn't hear him.

 "I love you Geralt," she inwardly noted how his eyes widened a fraction at the sudden confession. "Maybe that is naïve, maybe it's purely based on the fact that you saved me when I needed you most but I honestly don't care what the reasons are. I know that I do and I know that I do not want to regret last night nor would I regret your touch in the future."

 Turning before he could say anything further, she walked over to camp trying her best to ignore the pounding of her heart with each step.

 ~*

 That night as they settled down at their camp within the forest, near a large grouping of mossy boulders silence stretched between them. Not since her confession earlier had words been spoken. Roach was brushed and cared for, blades were sharpened and cleaned, the fire started and food cooked, all done without a word. Taking the small cast iron pot from over the fire Ciri sat it down next to her. The water inside simmered from its boil and slowly cooled as she prepared herself. With the large rocks at her back and Geralt's silent presence to her left Ciri dipped her cloth carefully into the small pot of hot water. Loosening her shirt from her pants and undoing the top ties, Ciri discreetly removed her undergarment from beneath the shirt and extracted it through the sleeve. Casting a furtive glance to the witcher, Ciri was relieved and simultaneously annoyed to find him leaning back against the mossy stone with one knee drawn up and bent and his eyes closed.

 Running her fingers through her loose hair, she pushed the ashen mass of silken hair to her left shoulder as she carefully grabbed the cloth. Running the hot, wet cloth over her arms she wiped away the day's sweat and grime. Dipping the cloth back into the hot water, she squeezed out the access water listening as the slight splash of water splashed like a deluge in the silence of their camp. Occasional pops and crackling from the fire along with the sounds of nocturnal birds high above in the trees sounded deafening against the wall of silence erected between her and the witcher. Undoing the fastening of her trousers, Ciri froze for a second out of modesty before immediately stamping the feeling away. Who cared if he saw, let him see she thought angrily. Without a care, Ciri boldly pulled down her pants past her feet and laid them on the bed-roll next to her. Removing her last undergarment in the same manner, Ciri sat naked, dressed only in her long shirt. Turning back to the small pot of hot water she reached for her cloth again when she felt the weight of his gaze. A small gasp caught in her throat as she looked up to see Geralt staring directly at her.

 For what felt like an eternity neither one of them moved, neither one breaking the shared look between them. Subtly, Geralt's gaze dropped down slowly tracing down the slender column of her neck and past her exposed collarbone until lingering on the rise of her breasts against the fabric. Inflamed by his questing gaze, her body reacted, her nipples stiffening against the rough fabric of her shirt while gooseflesh covered her arms. Shakily, she grabbed the wet cloth again, doing her best not to let him see how much he was affecting her. It felt like a game--no, a war---she corrected. It felt like there was a war of wills taking place right now and she was on the verge of losing. Bringing the cloth to her legs, she finally tore her gaze from his and began wiping down each leg. Starting with her foot, she let the cloth run up her ankle and past her knee before dipping the cloth back into the water. Glancing up, her heart sped up at the sight of the witcher watching her movements with barefaced intensity. The muscle in his jaw ticked as he watched the wet cloth in her hand trace up her thigh. Emboldened by his gaze, Ciri subtly shifted atop her bedroll until she faced him directly. Dipping the cloth back into the now barely warm water she parted her legs just enough to allow her hand to pass between. Geralt's sudden intake of breath wasn't lost on her as she faced the warrior exposing only the barest peek of herself as she continued to bathe. With the length of her shirt and the position of her outstretched bent legs she knew that even his unnatural keen gaze would have to work hard to see past the shadows her shirt created. Gliding the cloth to the juncture of her thighs Ciri could not resist the unbearable pull to look back up at him. Amber eyes clashed with hers as Geralt met her gaze with a silent threatening challenge. As if commanding her to finish the game she started, Ciri suppressed a shudder that ran through her. Parting her legs further at the silent command, she watched him lift his chin and exhale deeply as he stared at the hidden spot between her legs. Flicking his gaze back up to hers, he issued another unspoken command with his sharp gaze. Ciri's body throbbed at the new turn her game was taking. No longer in control, her body was overly sensitive and charged with an indescribable current of heat. Complying with his wordless wish, she moved the cloth between her slick folds and cleaned herself as his eyes missed nothing. With each pass of the rough cloth a shudder passed through her. If she continued Ciri was positive she could bring herself to that undefinable moment she experienced last night in Geralt's arms, she could lean back and ride this feeling until she was limp and gasping. But that was not what she wanted. Suddenly dropping the cloth, Ciri moved the pot aside thus calling an end to this game. She had wanted him to say something, to do something, anything to show her that last night wasn't a mistake and that he really did care for her but she should have known better. Playing chicken with the witcher was a losing battle, a lesson she learned tonight.

 Frustrated in more ways than one, Ciri began pulling out her blanket.

 "Go to sleep, we have a long ride tomorrow," Geralt's voice thicker sounding than usual, halted her.

 Anger flared to life inside of her. "Got to sleep," those were the same words he told her last night. What was she, a child to him?! Beyond angry she stood up abruptly, ignoring the brief look of shock in his eyes. Stepping over to him Ciri tossed her hair over her shoulder with a jerk of her head as she stepped one foot over his legs, straddling him.

 "Ciri…" he began either in question or in warning, she did not know nor did she wait to find out.

 Lowering herself abruptly to his legs, she forced him to straighten his bent knee to accommodate her. Face to face now, she glared at him with tears glittering her eyes. "If I were to kiss you," she said taking in the fine line of his firm set mouth and the agitated ticking muscle in his clenched jaw. "You would not kiss me back would you?"

 Geralt said nothing, his fiery amber gaze was like molten steel. Anger, self control, and something else she could not quite label swirled within warning her to tread carefully.

 Nodding at his unspoken answer Ciri looked down in defeat. "I don’t understand, why touch me like that why give me what I know you knew I wanted. Why look at me just now as if you wanted to devour me and then treat me like a child a moment later?"

 Staring down at her hands braced on top of each of his thighs, Ciri waited for a reply but received nothing. Tears ran down her face and seeped into the fabric of his pants. Bracing herself to push herself up and off, Ciri was startled by the sudden grip at her thigh. Looking up she gave the witcher a questioning look.

 "You have everything ahead of you," his tone was so deep and quiet Ciri felt as if her heart had stopped beating along with the forest quieting just to ensure she didn't miss a word. Cocking his head slightly to the side he gave her an imploring look, wanting her to understand. "You have the bloodline to lead nations and powers we know nothing about. You are destined for greatness, not to a life with a half human."

 She didn't care about any of that, didn't he know that. Shaking her head she tried to argue. "But…"

 His grip on her thigh tightened and she was startled to feel herself being drug forward until her bare flesh sat atop the hard rise of his groin. They both released a small groan at the contact.

 Closing his eyes as if to gather his remaining control, Geralt opened them and stared at her with renewed determination. "I cannot kiss you Ciri, it will undo everything I am working hard to prevent. You are my ward and I am your guardian, there can be nothing more."

 "Please Geralt," she spoke gently. Lifting one hand up she softly stroked back a lock of his white hair from is face, tucking it behind his ear. "I don't…"

 Wrapping his arms around her back, he pulled her even tighter to his hard chest forcing her cheek to rest against his shoulder. "Go to sleep, Ciri."

 #

 His life was a living hell. Geralt closed his eyes for a moment trying to gather himself for a moment before opening them back up to look at the path ahead of them. Walking along a long-forgotten mountain trail, Geralt inwardly cursed at himself to focus. Last night he got no sleep. With her astride his lap he spent the entire night focusing on the moist spot resting just above his rock hard cock. He fantasized about letting his hands glide up her thighs and under her shirt so that he could caress her naked flesh again. The memory of her firm but soft ass in his hands that night at the inn would haunt him until he died. Last night, Geralt had watched her sleep against his shoulder wanting more than anything to snatch off that fucking shirt from her and plunge himself into her warmth. He imagined her shocked cries as he drove himself in and out of her tight cunt and nearly groaned aloud at the picture. It was the delicate little moan that came from her throat and the shift in her sleep against him that nearly tore his control apart. Laying her carefully down next to him, Geralt spent the remainder of the night remembering his training and enacting his the old tenants of self discipline--anything to keep his thoughts and hands at bay.

 Now he sat atop Roach like a zombie as they rode through the mountain pass.

 "Wait…I recognize this," her voice rang out from behind him, her arms stiffening around his waist. "Are we…are we going back---back to the cottage?!"

 The excitement in her voice soothed some of the hard edges of his mood. Turning his head until he could catch a glimpse of her from his right eye he smirked.

 "Yes, I figured we go back to complete more of your training at least until the Nilfgaard army moves further away," he explained. Talking to Thomas from the inn and a few other men around town, he knew the Nilfgaard presence was still too near in these parts. There were scouts and small squadrons everywhere listening and waiting for news of Ciri. "And when they do, we will travel to Kaer Morhen to finish out your studies properly."

 The grip around him tightened. "Thank you Geralt, thank you so much."

 Turning back ahead, Geralt tried to ignore the guilt as he endured her hug against his back. There was nothing to thank him for, nothing at all. He was her guardian and he had watched her with blatant lust that night she fell asleep in the bath. Wet and transparent the strips of cloth she had used to cover herself did nothing but entice him more. Somewhere along the way of carrying her from the tub and dressing her in one of his shirts his control snapped. Maybe it was the slight jiggle of her petite breasts and rosy nipples or maybe it was the sight of her beautiful cunt with the same sprinkling of ashen color hair--he didn't know or care, he was too far gone. That night he watched her come in his arms, he watched her break apart and call out his name at once. It was the night he may as well had sold his soul to the underworld because he could never go back to what they once had, not without pain on both their parts.

 Grabbing her hand that was settled around his waist he brought it up to his lips and inhaled, he could feel the flutter of her pulse at the action. "Don’t thank me Ciri."

 #

 Though the route back to the cottage was the same, the journey was most decidedly not. A sexual tension so thick and alluring had settled over them Ciri often found herself out of breath and tingling with awareness. Small touches, stolen glances here and there, or knowing she was being watched each time she bathed it all added up to a long insidious torture. Her only saving grace was that Geralt was merciful enough not to allow this unspoken tension that existed between them to affect their friendship. All it took was for her to pose a silly question or a make a snarky quip and they were back immediately just like it was before the night at the inn, arguing and talking as if nothing ever happened. It was only when the silence settled between them that the sexual tension crept back in.

 Walking along the crest of a large hill that overlooked a sloping valley, Ciri walked along side of Roach and Geralt. Having got down from the horse to relieve herself she decided to stretch out her sore muscles with a walk. Riding on the back of a horse all day was probably one of the most tiring things in the world. Looking down at the brown grass with various patches of snow still clumped on the ground she peered down to the frigid looking river below that lined the narrow valley. It would snow again soon and next time it would not stop. The realization only made her all the more glad they were heading back to their warm, comfy cottage.

 Raising her arms above her head in a stretch, Ciri arched her back with a groan before letting her arms flop back to her sides. "What if the cottage is taken already by someone else?" she asked worriedly, the images of her their cottage filled with other people making her angry.

 "Then we move on and find another place to lay low for a while," his tone was so nonchalant it bothered her.

 How could he be so cavalier about their wonderful cottage being taken by someone else? She opened her mouth to ask why they couldn’t just run these people off but she quickly closed it. Sneaking a glance up at him, she frowned at the knowing look in his gaze. He knew exactly what she was going to say and knew exactly why she stopped herself. Arrogant man, she thought with a curse. No, running anybody off would just raise suspicion. They would undoubtedly run to the nearest tavern any tell their story to anyone willing to listen which would eventually cross the ears of a Nilfgaard scout. It simply wasn't worth it.

 As if sensing her dismay at the possibility of their cottage being usurped, Geralt spoke. "The cottage is well hidden and has been abandoned for a long while, I have no doubts it will be just as we left it when we return."

 "I hope so," she sighed.

 After a few more minutes of walking a long howl broke the silence. Looking to the copse of trees in the distance Ciri looked up to Geralt who halted Roach. Though it was still reasonably bright out, dusk was only a few hours away and wolves didn't need the cloak of night to attack.

 "Come," Geralt commanded deeply as he extended his hand. "I would rather not kill any wolves I do not have to."

 Taking his hand she expected him to guide her behind him like he always did but this time she felt him swing her ahead of him, forcing her to lift one leg high over Roach's head so that she could sit astride the saddle. Nestled snugly between the saddle's horn and Geralt, Ciri tilted her head back and gave Geralt a confused look.

 Geralt said nothing simply raised a brow.

 Looking at the serious witcher in this upside down manner made a smile break out across her lips. Closing her eyes in a small laugh she leaned her head back against the witcher's chest as he urged Roach to continue walking. Glancing back up at him as her laughter faded her heart lurched at the unreadable look he gave her. Something intense and akin to wonder passed through his golden gaze that made her open her mouth to inquire, but she stopped herself. Looking back forward, Ciri kept the question on her tongue at bay as her thoughts swirled within her head. With just a glance this man could send her thoughts into a chaotic spin. He was just so blasted confusing! In one moment he looked at her as if she were simply his foolish and naïve ward that occasionally entertained him and then there were other times, albeit rare, that he looked at her as if she was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen--like now. She just wished she knew what she was supposed to do to get him to look at her like that all the time, she thought with a heavy sigh.

 Keeping Roach in a slow walk along the muddy wet hills, they slowly made there way along the edge of the valley.

 After some time, the comfortable silence was broken between. Point a hand beyond them to their left, Geralt spoke. "About forty miles down that way was the forest where we were attacked by the fleders," he informed her.

 "And that horrid town of depression," she added, scrunching up her nose at the memory.

 "Mmm," Geralt made a deep noise of agreement.

 With his left hand returned to Roach's reins Ciri let her gaze focus on it. Strong and callused, his hands told a story all on their own. Old scars discolored the skin while his knuckles were darkened over years of battering use. Unbidden memories of the night in the inn resurfaced in her mind and she recalled the way his large hands felt gripping her ass and squeezing her flesh. Closing her eyes briefly, Ciri let herself bask in the memory while imagining what it would have felt like for those hands to have explored her body further.

 Absently she watched his grip around the leather reins tighten. It wasn't until she felt his free arm come around her waist hugging her tighter to his front did she shake from her thoughts.

 "Did you know that I can sense when your thoughts turn to me?" Geralt's voice rumbled deeply against her back.

 Freezing, Ciri sat stiffly in the saddle as they moved.

 Seeing that she was not going to reply right away Geralt continued, his voice slow and easy as if each word was edged with an arrogant smirk. "Like a tang that hits the air, your arousal delicately glides past my senses trying not to be caught, but I catch it every time."

 By now her breathing had become much more labored as she tried not to focus on the embarrassing meaning of his words. Shifting slightly in her seat she wanted to groan at the glaring truth of it all--she was aroused. Throbbing and heated, her sex yearned for the same stimulation he gave her in the inn. She wanted to feel that unbearable build up again, she thought. She wanted to look into Geralt's amber eyes and know that he wanted it just as much as she did.

 Gathering the remaining shreds of her pride she straightened against him. "Why would you assume I am thinking of you?" she said haughtily. "I have met many warriors, princes, and knights that are pleasing to look at, so if I were I would not presume…"

 Her words were cut off with a small cry of shock as his hand snaked its way between the fabric of her pants until he reached the hot center of her desire. Pushing away the fabric of her under garment with skilled ease his thick fingers delved into her slick folds causing her to arch and nearly lift off from the seat at the sudden invasion. Taking the opportunity she gave him, Geralt slipped his middle finger into her entrance.

 "geralt," Ciri cried out at the mind numbing feeling. Never before had she been touched here, it was odd and intrusive although not entirely unwelcome.

 His thick callused finger felt rough against the small opening sending arcs of fear up her spine.

 Sensing her needs, Geralt pulled his fingers back up letting it ghost delicately over her folds. Teasing and light, Ciri found his new movements frustrating. She needed more than this, more pressure more--

 Her thoughts were expelled from her mind as she let out a deep moan. Finding the source of her heat, the pad of Geralt's finger brushed over the sensitive nubbin of nerves hidden within her slick folds. Toying with it, Geralt circled the pearl of her sex in soft circular motions making her shift restlessly against him in the saddle.

 What a sight they made, she thought deep within the recesses of her mind. Walking along the cliffs at and even gait anyone would see the large white haired witcher with his arm crossed over a girl at his front as she writhed and moaned in his grasp.

 "Please," she begged in a tortured moan. Ciri had no clue what she was asking for but she just needed…needed him to do more.

 Tilting her head back she met his fiery amber gaze.

 "Now tell me again Ciri," his voice was low and savage as his slicked fingers began to bat at her clit driving new desperate sounds from her throat. "tell me who you were thinking of?"

 With her pride forgotten in her madness she gave him a beseeching look. "Please Geralt! I was only thinking of you," she cried.

 Dark satisfaction glowed in his eyes as he cupped her sopping sex roughly. Lifting her in the saddle until she no longer sat flush against it Geralt inserted a middle digit inside her entrance before setting her back down. With his thumb at her clit and a digit pushed into her dripping passage, Geralt kicked the horse into a trot.

 The torture intensified immediately. Clutching at his arm that was wrapped around her front Ciri let out a series of small cries as the combined movements of the horse and his hand worked against her. Each step brought her down and up against his finger sinking them deeper and deeper as his thumb batted shyly at her clit avoiding the full pressure she craved from it. Faster the horse was spurred on into a gallop and  her cries intensified until she was sure they rang out into the valley below. Pressing her hips further into his hand Ciri's body locked in an intense spasm as euphoric waves crashed against her body and darkeness crept around the edges of her mind.

 Trembling and exhausted Ciri felt herself slump against the witcher's arm as he slowly pulled his hand from her pants. Shifting her slightly in his arms so that she rested on his other arm holding the reins Geralt brought his glistening hand to his mouth. Eyes wide, Ciri watched in stunned silence as he brought his fingers to his mouth licking each one.

 #

 It took them nearly a week to stop in a small town. It was a town they had avoided on their initial journey from the cottage but were stopping at now. Geralt had told her it would take them only a few days once they leave the town to get to their cottage and they needed supplies. More than excited for the prospect of reaching their destination soon, Ciri let the thoughts of a warm bed and a hot bath push away the constant thoughts of frustration she had been feeling for days now. Ever since that afternoon he touched her while riding, their relationship was right back to their odd quasi friendship with an undertone of sexual hunger. She hated every damn minute of it.

 Keeping her hood down, as Geralt instructed, she walked behind the witcher as he led her and Roach through the muddy streets of the town. The place was called Meerdol which roughly translated to "soggy marsh" a name that could not be more accurate for this sad town. Though the sun was shining it seemed as if the bleak little town naturally expelled any rays of sunshine away leaving it grey and muted everywhere.

 Giving the man who ran the stables a couple coin, Geralt led them inside. Although very large, Ciri could only hear a couple muffled snuffles meaning that there were only two or three horses in their stall. Turning to the white haired man she waited for his instruction.

 "I want you to stay here while I go gather supplies and information," his naturally grim voice held a note of authority underneath that went well with the firm look in his eyes.

 Putting her hands on her hips she ignored his attempt to forestall her anger and glared at him.

 Geralt at the courtesy to wince ever so slightly at the oncoming attack.

 "Why must I stay here in the barn?!" she hissed. "While you get to go out and no doubt drink at the tavern in the name of "information gathering" while I molder about in here?"

 She could see the muscle in his jaw tick and his lips tighten as he suppressed the urge to grin. "Because dear princess," he whispered just as harshly back at her. "You are a highly sought after young woman, I would think the answer as to why you and I cannot traipse hand and hand around town stock hoarding supplies and casually asking about the Nilfgaard army would be obvious."

 Her arguments jumbled in her mind as she tried to think of something that she could retort back with--but nothing came to mind.

 Raising one brow in apparent satisfaction at his victory, Geralt stepped back. "I will be back. Stay here and out of sight," handing her the horse's reins he walked away.

 Using every curse word she ever heard Ciri grumbled to herself as she backed Roach into a stall in the back and gave him a wild carrot they had in the pouch.

 Glancing up to the hayloft and the ladder that led down from it she let out a sigh. Was this how it was going to be from here on out? Why couldn’t Geralt just admit he liked her or at the very least liked touching her? His hot and cold attitude was driving her crazy.

 "Ciri…are you in here?" The unfamiliar whisper sounding from the front of the barn stopped her blood. That was not Geralt's voice.

 Sinking further into the darkness of the stable, Ciri thanked the heavens that the owner had not thought to open the back door. Using the darkness to her advantage she waited as the steps from the front came closer.

 "Ciri are you…What the--!" The boy's words were cut off at the pressure of her blade against his throat.

 Having had waited until the figure approached her shadowed spot, Ciri only needed to step out at just the right time so that she stood at his back with her arm reaching up and around his neck with her knife.

 "Who are you?" she demanded, her voice lower and deadlier than even she expected.

 With both of his hands raised in the air in a sign of surrender the boy turned his head nervously over his shoulder to look her way. "It's me," he whispered loudly. "Sulik…" Met with only silence he quickly continued. "You stayed at my house a while back, Yurga is my dad and my mom--"

 "Goldencheeks," Ciri finished his sentence in a soft voice, remembering the kind woman fondly. Lowering her blade she stepped aside. "What are you doing here?"

 Turning around, Sulik dropped his hands and gave her a hopeful ut nervous look. "I…I…I just came to see you is all. Swear!" He added at her suspicious glare. "I saw the white haired witcher walking into town while I was emptying the water barrels and I saw the smaller person next to him with their hood up and figured it was you."

 She snorted, forgetting that this boy was indeed taller than her. "I'm not that much smaller," she said pridefully with a lift of her chin.

 He smiled warily. "What are you two doing here anyhow, you should be long gone from this area there are spies for Nilfgaard everywhere."

 "We took a job not too far from here clearing out a town infested with monsters," she lied easily, still watching him with narrowed eyes for any possible deceit.

 Nodding with wide eyes, he looked at her with a mixture of shock and fascination. As if catching himself for showing such raw unguarded emotion, Sulik sniffed and stood straighter, obviously puffing up his narrow chest a bit more. "Well, dad has me working for the blacksmith in this shit town, he says I need a trade I can rely on in all times whether peace or war."

 Nodding she said nothing.

 Unnerved by her silence, Sulik shifted on his feet. "Are you hungry? I was just about to eat. I can bring you some food and drink," he gave her an imploring look. Ciri could easily see he wanted her to say yes. For some reason she got the feeling the boy might be lonely, which wouldn’t be surprising to hear in this miserable little town.

 Thinking of Geralt's parting words, she suspected the withcer would not be returning quickly. Lifting one shoulder in a shrug she gave Sulik a tired smile. "Sure, why not."

 It only took the boy a few minutes to run and fetch the small sack of food. A bottle of cheap wine that burned with every sip, a crusty loaf of bread, and a few generous slices of ham were there only options.

 Sitting in the hayloft above the horse stalls they both sat cross legged with the food spread out between them. Since a lamp would be far too dangerous to have in a hayloft they used the open hayloft door to usher in the much need light from the dying sun.

 "So, tell me how has it been travelling with a witcher. He's trained you I gathered," he said nodding to her sword she had laid carefully at her side.

 Taking only a nibble of the ham, she gave Sulik a quizzical stare as she examined him. "I thought you hated me," she said changing the subject.

 Taken aback Sulik's narrow shoulders stiffened.  "I…"

 Immediately feeling bad for the boy, Ciri smiled and waved off the tension with a warm laugh. "I am just teasing you, I know you were just mad I suddenly showed up in your life--or your room to be exact," she pointed out in which he replied with an embarrassed smile. "Bringing not only a sudden change to your quiet life but possibly danger. I get it, truly."

 Tension eased from his frame and he gave her a warm look of grateful understanding, something she was not expecting. "I'm sorry I acted that way it was childish and mean. I just…I just had so much going on at that time. Trying my best to look after my mom alone, all the while worrying about my father and brother hoping."

 Nodding she took a small bite of break along with a sip of the burning wine. She didn’t want to eat too much of his food. Her and Geralt ate well each night but by the looks of this town she was not so sure she could say the same for Sulik.

 "So, are you going to tell me?"

 "Tell you what?" She feigned innocence, making a show of tearing apart her tiny slice of bread.

 "How is it travelling with the witcher? Is training hard? Is he a tough teacher?"

 Ciri could tell that these rapid-fire questions were only the beginning of the mountain of questions that gleamed in his eyes back at her.

 Scooting back to lean against the wall of the barn she moved her sword along with her before finally looking to Sulik.

 "Honestly, it's everything I could have ever wanted," she admitted with a heavy sigh letting her gaze focus on the dark rafters of the roof. "I am safe, cared for, and taught new things everyday; I honestly cannot imagine where I would be without him."

 "I have to say that is quite surprising to hear about the half-human," Sulik retorted in a huff.

 Ciri's ashen brows knitted together in confusion as she stared at him. It seemed within seconds his mood had changed and she couldn't begin to understand why.

 Seeing her confusion Sulik gave a quick shrug. "I mean, you know, comparing what you said to the rumors and all, I just find it surprising."

 "And what rumors are those?" she inquired with a far too sweet voice edged in pure sarcasm. She was starting not to like his tone.

 Sensing her change in mood Sulik looked at the hay covered floor in guilt. "Just that all the witcher's are sex crazed ruthless killers. They say it has something to do with their mutant changes they endured."

 Ciri said nothing when he finally gathered the nerve to look up at her, she simply gave a him a look that suggested "is that it."

 She watched as the flame of anger sparked in his eyes. "No doubt your wonderful witcher is probably holed up in the tavern right now with a few working women on his arm. I would be…."

 "Is that what I am doing?"

 The familiar voice rumbled from the darkness in the back of the loft causing them both to turn in surprise. Stepping out from the shadows, Geralt lazily let both hands rest casually on the low rafter above him. Ciri's breath caught at the sight of his muscular arms straining against the fabric of his shirt before trailing down the length of his tapered waist and strong thighs. Her mind was nearly lost at the sight of him, if it weren't for the heart stopping look of simmering anger she caught in his gaze.

 Shaking herself out of her momentary lapse she looked to Sulik worriedly. Though she still could not stand the boy, she didn't want him to get throttled by Geralt just because he spouted off a few stupid rumors out of what she could only guess was jealousy. Though she had no clue why he would even be jealous. Maybe he was angry he had to work as a blacksmith while she got trained to hunt monsters. Dawning understanding settled over her as that answer made more and more sense. That must be it, she inwardly nodded. Understanding his anger now she felt for the boy even more now. Ciri couldn’t blame him, she wouldn’t want to be a sweaty blacksmith's apprentice either.

 "Get your stuff and leave," Geralt growled low in his chest, stepping away from the rafter he used to rest against and step closer to the frozen boy. "And if you tell anyone of Ciri's presence I will find you--and gut you."

 Both Ciri and Sulik blinked in shock for a second before Sulik hastily complied practically leaping from the loft to the stable ground and taking off through the door below.

 Looking back up to Geralt, Ciri's blood stopped. The look in his eyes was still there.

 "Umm…" she began, clearing her throat as she stood up. "He saw us when we came to town so…so he followed us and came in here looking for me."

 Geralt didn't say anything, he let his fiery amber gaze sweep over her body making his own deductions. Apparently pleased with what he found or didn't find he turned and grabbed a sack he had hidden in the shadows before tossing it to her.

 "Eat. Sleep. Tomorrow we leave."

 #

 The remainder of the journey was spent in miserable silence. Gone was the laughter, the illicit touches, or even the smiles. The next few days passed in a brutal silence that she could not conquer. After the first day she learned her lesson on trying to change the new routine. Twice she tried to confront him about his silent treatment since they left Meerdol and each time he grabbed her wooden sparring sword and tossed it to her, forcing her to fight and each time she landed hard on her butt with a wooden sword pointed at her throat.

 It was the morning of the third day of their journey and they were getting close to the cottage. Ciri recognized the craggily forest terrain and knew soon they would have to dismount and walk the rest of they way just as they had done months before. Having walked away from their camp to relieve herself in privacy, Ciri now stood staring down at her shoes as tears fell from her eyes in thick rivulets. She wanted Geralt to speak. She wanted to know what she did wrong. Sniffing, Ciri suppressed a deep hitch that threatened to begin in her chest as she tried to restrain her crying. Was she not supposed to have spoken to Sulik? Maybe she wasn't supposed to speak to anyone as a witcher in training. Desperately she tried to remember if Geralt had said anything like that before but she couldn't remember. Maybe he thought she was making fun of him behind his back with Sulik. Ciri's heart twisted in pain at that thought. She would never do that, but if he came in at the wrong part of the conversation, maybe that is what anyone would think. She wanted to try to clear up the misunderstanding, to beg for his forgiveness but every attempt she made was met with a soul shattering flat stare.

 Her senses suddenly tickled at the back of her neck causing her to turn around swiftly, her hand on the hilt of her sword. The forest was quiet. Morning sunlight speared through the trees around her, beautifully illuminating the dissipating morning fog slowly rising from the forest floor. There was no one around. Swiping the tears from her eyes she took a few deep breaths, composing herself, before walking back to camp.

 Hours later with the sun higher in the sky, despite the still biting cold wind, they emerged from the tall wall of reeds and grass on the other side of the river. Across the river sat their cottage, quiet and desolate just how they left it. Leaving Roach to stand on the other side of the river she and Geralt carefully crossed the wooden bridge with their hands on their swords, ready for any possible attack. Opening the door to the cottage they stepped inside.

 All was exactly how they left it. Despite the settled dust, nothing had changed and there were no signs of life. Ciri couldn't help but sigh with relief.

 Exhaling deeply himself Geralt let a slow smirk play at his lips. "And you were worried for nothing."

 Hesitantly she turned to him with a tired but hopeful look. "Does this mean you are no longer angry with me?"

 A flash of guilt passed through his eyes before he masked it.

 "Please Geralt," she pleaded, balling her hands in the fabric of her shirt anything to keep from reaching out to clutch onto him. "Please tell me what I did wrong. I know you were angry with me but…but I truly cannot stand your silence. You're…" the words threatened to fade on her tongue as tears formed in her eyes, but she pressed on wanting to be honest with herself and him. "You are all that I have. Please don’t take yourself away from me too."

 Surprise and guilt intertwined like dancing flames in his eyes before immediately shuttering under the wither's cool control.

 "I was angry I let that boy nearly compromise our position with Nilfgaard. I was angry I did not strangle the little cur when I had the chance and let him walk away still possibly posing a threat to our whereabouts," he began in a dangerous even tone.

 Ciri opened her mouth to say that she did not think Sulik would do something like that but Geralt continued, cutting off her words of defense.

 Steeping forward until she was forced to look up at him, Geralt grabbed her chin and gently held it as he tilted her face upward. "And I was angry I got jealous seeing you alone with a boy who obviously wanted your attention."

 Ciri's drew together in confusion just as the shock and pleasure of his admission strummed through her veins. "I…I don’t think he…"

 "Yes, he did. You were just too naïve to pick up on it," said with a shake of his head as he turned to exit the cottage.

 Appalled, Ciri drew back as if she had been struck before immediately stomping after him. "I am not naïve!"

 The tension that had settled on her shoulders ever since they left that godforsaken town behind finally lifted as she spent the remainder of the afternoon arguing off and on with the witcher while   she cleaned out the living area and the two bedrooms at his request. Ciri couldn't deny the sharp pang of dread as she watched Geralt patch up the outer wall that connected to one of the tiny bedrooms. Unpacking all of their items from Roach's pack, Geralt led him to the small stable next to the house and removed the horse's saddle while she organized their goods in the larder. Shaking off the mattresses and placing them back onto their small bedframes, sweeping, and cooking a simple rabbit stew, the only meal she could make half way decent, Geralt began to bring in buckets of water from the river. Tonight, they would bathe, eat, and sleep in warmth as the cold winter wind turned no doubt into snow.

 Pouring the last bucket of water into the large wooden bathing tub in the middle of the room, Geralt stepped back and checked the rocks he had heating inside the wood furnace. Stepping past him to check on the small loaf of bread she placed in the baker’s oven, Ciri couldn't help but stare at the domed oven dreamily. By the heavens she missed this place--or at the very least she missed hot bread. Living life like a witcher did not constitute itself to a hot bread every day. Meat and vegetables—yeah sure. Hot savory bread with butter and cinnamon on top--think again.

 Ladling the soup into the wooden bowls, she sat them down on the wooden trunk they were using as a table. Adding more wood to the stove, Geralt turned and sat down on one side of the trunk while she sat on another.

 "I hope it taste ok, I swear every time you force me to cook it comes out a little different," she laughed taking a spoon to the thick soup and scooping out a few vegetables and broth.

 "Mmmm," Geralt intoned deeply as he pulled one bent leg up and held his bowl with one hand. "If it's not, then I will have to eat you."

 Laughing mid-swallow, Ciri nearly choked on her food. "Firstly, I do not think I would taste very well," she rasped as she took a big swallow of water from her cup, completley missing the dark look of hunger that passed through the witcher's gaze. "And secondly, I think cannibalism is a rather harsh punishment for bland soup don’t you think?"

 Geralt just gave a shrug as he spooned more soup apparently ok with the flavor.

 Dipping some of her bread into the broth Ciri took a hearty bite as her thoughts focused more on his words. "I wonder what it feels like to be eaten?"

 Geralt's sudden cough startled her. Worriedly she watched him set his bowl of nearly finished soup onto the table as he grabbed his own water.

 Ciri waited until he stopped coughing to speak. "I am sorry," she laughed softly, feeling simultaneously bad and amused at the dark look he cast her. "I was just wondering what it would…"

 "Yes," he rasped, his voice still rough from the choking fit. "I know, “what it would be like to be eaten,” I heard you."

 Seeing that he was well enough to be a surly ass, Ciri resumed her thoughts as she took another bite of her bread. "Surely as a witcher you have come across cannibalism in your journeys. I bet it’s terrifying knowing that another human wants to dine on your flesh," she thought aloud warming up to this topic. "See, I can understand monsters wanting to eat me but a human is somehow terrifyingly different. …what?"

 Looking over to him she was surprised to see the witcher wearing a wide grin.

 Geralt shook his head. "Nothing, nothing at all." Leaning against the wall behind him, Geralt closed his eyes still wearing that smile that made her heart race. "Let's see, when was the last time I encountered a cannibal?" he gave a great sigh as he mentally went through the catalogs of his memories.

 Serving him and herself a few more bowls of soup and the remainder of the small loaf of bread, Ciri listened to him recount his story with three cannibalistic witches.

 Full and thoroughly entertained from the exciting story, Ciri had her arms crossed on top of the wooden chest and her head resting on top of her arms. Getting up, Geralt stretched before looking down at her with a waiting look.

 "You have three seconds to decide if you want to bathe before me," he warned.

 Closing her eyes with a wistful groan, Ciri pushed herself up to standing. "Fine, fine," she grumbled.

 Geralt moved the chest back to the side of the room near the door while Ciri grabbed her soap, towel, and comb from her bag from the second small bedroom she begrudgingly designated as her own. Both rooms were identical and both pathetically small and even though he hadn't said anything as of yet she knew that he intended for them to sleep apart tonight. Ciri wouldn’t lie to herself and say she wasn't hurt by the new arrangement. One of the many reasons she wanted so desperately to be back here in this cottage, even if for just a little while, was to sleep in his arms once again. Out on the road, camping in the forest or rundown abandoned buildings Geralt always slept with his back against a wall while she laid down fully beside him. She wanted what they once had, to feel his overwhelming strength as he wrapped his muscular arms around her as she slept.

 Setting her supplies down near the washing stool in the corner of the room, she began to undress. Gone was her shy modesty she had when they started this partnership together. She had bathed countless times by river, lake, pond, or the use of the small pot he had on his saddle pack and each time she had felt the witcher's gaze on her naked form.

 Completley bare she sat down on the stool with her back to the living area. Her heart hammered in her chest despite her boldness. The room was so quiet, only the sounds of him moving to open the stove's grate and remove some of the scalding river stones from the flames echoed in the room. Running the bit of soapy cloth, she used to wash herself, over her arms and chest Ciri could swear with each breath she took the air became more charged with an undefinable energy. Finishing cleaning herself, Ciri entertained the idea of simply standing up and turning around in full view of the silent white-haired warrior but even her boldness had limits. Using the large swath of cloth she normally used as a towel, Ciri got up and turned holding the towel in front of herself. Her skin tightened into gooseflesh and her heart felt as if it skipped five beats as she felt the weight of the witcher's gaze on her. Not brave enough to look at him directly, she could see that he was seated on the floor again with his back to the wall. Stepping gingerly into the hot water she stood with her back to him, exposing her rear, as she removed the towel and lowered into the water.

 The near scalding heat comforted her sore tired body as she relaxed into the water's depths. Closing her eyes, she tried to think of something to say but nothing could compete with the overwhelming comfort she was experience right now.

 The warm touch to her shoulder jolted her from her state of euphoria. Blinking she turned her head to see Geralt now sitting behind her on the outside of the tub.

 "Lean forward," the note of authority in his quiet tone made her shiver.

 Following the gentle pressure of is hand, Ciri brought up her knees and leaned forward in the tub.

 Taking the cloth from her hand, she could hear him rub the bar of soap across the fabric before pressing the warm wet towel to her back. Ciri sighed, the sound almost an inaudible moan though she knew the witcher heard. In slow torturous circles he massaged the soapy cloth into her back. Knotted muscles in her back worked away under the firm pressure of his touch. Her eyes rolled back behind her eyelids and Ciri feared she would let out another moan. Dipping the cloth into the water, he lifted it up at the top of her shoulders letting the warm water cascade down her ack to rinse off any residual soap. Hearing Geralt stand up right, Ciri turned around in the bath water sloshing slightly with her movements as she faced the witcher. With her eyes level with his thighs she let her gaze travel upward until they landed on the hard ridge of his groin pressing against the fabric of his pants. Her blood pulsed in her veins as she looked up further to meet his gaze.

 There was an unnatural excitement shining in his gaze, an eagerness she could see warring with his self-control.

 Encouraged by the look of restrained want in his eye, Ciri shifted in the water until she was on her knees and her breasts exposed from beneath the water’s surface as she faced him. Ignoring her hammering heart and racing thoughts she reached for his belt. The tips of her fingers barely ghosted the leather material when her hand was caught in his iron grip.

 Faster than she could react, Ciri felt herself being pulled and lifted from the water in one neat move. With his hand at her naked waist, Geralt lifted her over the rim of the tub and pulled her wet body flush against his.

 Held against his form, Ciri's feet dangled above the floor as one of his arms crossed her back and the other just below the cleft of her ass as he held her tightly against him. Her lips were still parted from the gasp she let out moments before at the surprising move and she could see that his eyes were drawn to them. They began to tingle under his perusal. Thoughts of his lips meeting hers filled her mind until she found herself leaning instinctively forward. A look akin to pain and fierce longing ignited in his eyes as he watched her come close.

 "Ciri," he grumbled a warning but did nothing to stop her as she came closer.

 Ever so softly at first, their lips touched sending arcing electrical currents all the way to her toes. But with each second their contact maintained the feeling intensified until Ciri no longer had any control over the kiss she started. Geralt's arms around her body tightened bringing her up against him even higher. Ciri moaned into his demanding lips at the friction he created against her naked body. She could feel her stiffening nipples rub against his shirt yearning for the heat and contact of his bare skin beneath. As if reading her thoughts, Geralt groaned against her lips before opening his mouth, expertly guiding her to do the same until their tongues met. Ciri made a sobbing sound of pleasure in her throat as she greedily moved her tongue against his. Spearing her hands through his thick white hair she marveled at the symphony of sensations that assaulted her senses.

 With both of his hands now gripping the soft flesh of her ass Ciri could feel him take a step forward then another, both in the direction of the rooms. Her body sang at the realization, the heated feeling between her legs turning damp and nearly unbearable with expectation.

 Soft and strong his tongue batted against her while his lips moved with what felt like almost an angry desire against hers before harshly pulling away. Ciri blinked as she felt herself being lowered to the ground. No, her mind frantically shouted. Not wanting the distance, she knew he was going to put between them judging by the determined expression on his face Ciri rushed to close the distance but Geralt kept his hands firm at her shoulders. Leaning down to scoop something up quickly Geralt ignored her attempt to question him and started to pull the shirt he grabbed over her head.

 "Geralt, stop…" her words cut off as the fabric covered her face briefly, her head finally finding the neck hole of the shirt. With the only the choice to stand there with a shirt draped over her like a sack, Ciri angrily thrusted her arms through the arm holes. "Why are you…"

 The grim expression on Geralt's face halted her words.

 Shaking his head, he used her shoulders to turn her around. "I shouldn't be doing this to you," his words were rough and near whispered.

 Realizing he was pushing her to the second bedroom door Ciri's heart dropped. Rejection so tangible and hot weighted down her heart until she nearly winced from the pain. She wanted to turn around and scream at him. To rip off his oversized shirt he gave her and stand proudly naked in front of him while she hurled every object within grasping distance at his face. The surging want to kick and curse and tell him how much of a coward he was being licked at her veins like wild flames. But just as soon as the chaotic thoughts of anger settled into her mind a calming feeling rose up out of nowhere like a gentle sea wave, iridescent and blue washing away the anger.

 No longer resisting his hands, Ciri walked ahead to the bedroom door and slowly opened it. The tiny room was like a dark cave. With no window and as narrow as a broom closet it was apparent at one point the rooms were joined as one and the wall erected in between was simply an afterthought. A memory of Geralt telling her a small family used to live here flitted through her mind. Walking slowly forward with her bare-feet against the boarded floors made her grateful she took the time to sweep earlier. Reaching for the taper in her room she lit the wick allowing a soft yellow glow to illuminate the tiny room. Stepping into the room fully, she could feel Geralt's body heat fade from her back and knew that he had stopped outside the threshold of her door. The calming wave of peace that washed over her formed itself into a thought that grew into a resolute decision. He could push her away now but she would win in the end. Because no matter what he said, Geralt wanted her and that gave her leverage. He could walk away tonight but it would not stop her, even if that meant she had to try her best and seduce him nearly every night.

 With renewed purpose she turned back to Geralt and could barely contain the urge to smile as she watched him recognize the new determination in her eyes with wariness.

 "Good night," she said softly before stepping back and closing her door.

  #

 Pacing the small bedroom, Geralt eyed the small window with disgust. The room was more like a prison cell more than anything else. This wasn't going to work; he couldn’t sleep in this hole-in-the-wall. Grabbing his mattress, he stepped out into the living area and tossed it onto the floor. Settling onto it, he let out a lengthy sigh of ragged frustration. His bath earlier felt lonely and empty. In the span of a few months he had grown used to the feeling of being secretly watched by greedy feminine eyes. An examination she thought he was unaware of, but Geralt knew each and every time she turned and snuck a glance at him as he took his turn to bathe by the river during their travels. He could hear her indrawn breath as she caught glimpses of his cock as he stepped in and out of the water. Geralt found himself closing his eyes at night and resisting the overwhelming compelling need that wracked his senses as she snuggled up to him. It felt as if his control has been forced to balance on the edge of a blade.

 He wanted her and he hated himself for it.

 Pressing the palms of his hands against both of his eyes, Geralt laid back against the mattress. Unbidden memories of her slick naked skin came rushing to the forefront of his thoughts as she recalled how he helped her bathe. He nearly lost it then and there. He wanted to wrap his fist in her long ashen hair and pull her head back as he covered her mouth with his own. He wanted to cup her soft pale breasts and play with the pink buds until she cried out against him. Warbled and distorted from the water's rippled surface, Geralt recalled seeing a glimpse of her pale cunt as he pulled her from the water. By the heavens, how he resisted dropping to his knees and tasting her then and there was only a question the gods could answer.

 Groaning, he dropped his hands to his sides as he recognized the throbbing ache between his legs. He had to stop this. He couldn’t think of this anymore, she was his charge goddammit. He had no right to do this to her. She trusted him, he told himself weakly. She needed him to guide and teach her, to be her friend, not…not be the man that bedded her each night. The throbbing in his dick intensified. She didn't need him like this, he tried to remind himself savagely as he felt the walls of his will start to crumble.

 The memory of her faint smile and galvanized look in her eyes from earlier broke him.

 ~*

 Ciri was sitting on her bed when she heard the loud footsteps cross the living area's floor boards, she frowned. When she left him, Geralt was barefoot but even if he did have on his boots the man was normally as quiet as a mouse when he walked. With her knees drawn up under the oversized shirt, his shirt, she rested her head against her knees and listened.

 The footsteps walked purposefully and powerfully from the living room to his bedroom and paused before going back in the direction of the living room. Stopping only for a second the footsteps came back in the direction of the bedroom. Light underneath her door flickered as a shadow passed over it. Ciri went very still willing even her heart not to beat as she waited.

 Her door suddenly slammed open and Ciri jumped. Standing with his feet spread shoulder width apart Geralt stood towering at her door with an expression so fierce it made it made her body tremble and her core heat at once. Ducking his head as he stepped into the tiny room, Geralt stopped in front of her bed. Ciri couldn't say or do anything as she watched him reach for her, his callused palms gliding against the underside of her warm soft thighs as he hooked one arm beneath her and supported her back with the other. Lifting her from the bed, Geralt carried her high in his arms as he turned and walked with her back to the living room. Clutching at the material of his shirt, Ciri stared at his hard profile as he carried her into the living area. It was only when he stopped walking did she look to see that his mattress had been placed on the floor again. With her feet on the floor now, Ciri needed no words to know what he wanted from her. Lowering herself to the mattress, she never took her eyes off of him as he knelt down. Every single nerve and muscle in her body felt wound tight as if any moment she would just snap apart. Looking to Geralt's intense amber gaze Ciri suddenly felt very nervous. His silent watchful gaze made her feel exposed and hunted. The courage she had earlier was burning away under the intense heat in his eyes leaving only a girl that was far out of her depth.

 As if sensing the direction of her thoughts Geralt reached out to her. Warmth from the pads of his fingers startled her as they whispered up her exposed knee. Staring at his hand with transfixed fear, Ciri watched as he let the full flat of his palm cup her knee. Arcs of radiating warmth shot up her leg making her shiver as gooseflesh covered her body. Slowly Geralt pushed his hand from her knee and up her thigh causing her intake of breath to become deeper, his hand stopped its ascent as it reached the hem of her shirt. His amber eyes flicked to hers and he held her gaze, silently seeking an answer.

 A brief frenzied moment of cowardice materialized in her. Stolen glimpses of Geralt's naked body began to fill her thoughts. Big, hairy, and covered in hard muscles this man was going to make love to her she thought, her breathing picking up. She wasn't sure she could do this. Images of this witcher's large body covering her as he took pleasure from her body made her tense in fear. The grip on her leg tightened by a fraction, bringing her attention back to the present. Fear and shame warred within her as she realized how she must seem. Just earlier she had basically thrown herself on this man but now just as she received his full attention she was beyond frightened.

 "Ciri," he called her name gently, forcing her to meet his gaze.

 A small seed of relief bloomed amongst the frozen fields of fear in her heart as she saw a flicker of gentle understanding pass through his gaze.

 "Do you trust me?" he asked.

 Ciri nodded immediately, not allowing even a second of doubt to come between them. Of course she trusted him. With him she didn’t even need to think of the answer, she trusted Geralt with her life.

 A spark of a gentle type of warmth flickered in his gaze before it was consumed by the intense heat that blazed in his eyes. "Then lie back for me."

 Giving him a shaky nod, she did as she was told and lay back until her head hit his pillow that was placed at the end of the mattress.

 "Lift up your knees," his voice seemed huskier to her as she slowly brought up both of her knees.

 Ciri had yet to put on any of her undergarments and knew as she lifted each leg with torturously slow movements that the shirt would do little to cover herself from him. Finally, with both legs bent and tightly pressed together, Ciri waited for the inevitable command for her to spread them apart. Her heart was beating so wildly in her chest it felt as if it were echoing around the room. Memories of maids and handmaidens whispering about their first time came back to her, variances of pain were the common topic they seemed to focus on. Would this hurt? The memory of seeing Geralt's cock as he stepped from the river popped into the forefront of her mind, answering her question. Yes, it would surely hurt she thought squeezing her eyes shut just as she felt his hands on her ankles.

 Pulling her legs apart with a gentleness that surprised her, she could feel Geralt's hands move up her shins and over her knees until he was tracing down her thighs. Feeling the warmth of his body settle closer between her legs, Ciri was momentarily distracted by her fear as she blindly focused on the path of his questing hands. Keeping her eyes shut, she sighed as she felt the large rough hands push up the shirt as he cupped her waist and pushed upwards. Ciri sucked in a deep breath, her stomach caving in as her chest filled with air as he slowly glided over her ribs. This was torture, she thought absently as she felt her sex moisten and heat. This simple touch of his hands gliding over her was so warm and so overwhelming but not nearly enough. The air in her chest caught as she felt the shirt bunch at her breasts and his hands stop just inches away. Ciri was about to open her eyes but stopped at the deep rumble of his voice.

 "Keep them closed."

 Swallowing, Ciri nodded not trusting herself to speak.

 His hands continued. Covering her breasts with his hands, Geralt released a deep groan.

 The breath she had been holding was released as Ciri began to breathe faster waiting for the witcher to move.

 Lifting away from her breasts, Ciri nearly let out a whimper at the loss of contact. Feeling the tug of her shirt around her head, she moved obligingly as she felt the shirt being tossed away. Completely naked, Ciri could feel the witcher's warm body hovering above hers, she could feel his clothed thigh pressed against her aching center as he shifted slightly above her. She regretted closing her eyes now, she wanted to open them and look at him. She wanted to see what he was feeling in this intimate position. With each second that passed without his touch on her body she was beginning to feel alone in her darkness.

 A brush of hair against her collarbone preceded the radiating wet warmth that covered her nipple and Ciri could not help but cry out. A hand came down against her other breast and captured her nipple between his fingers while his mouth worked at the other. Suckling at the tender bud as the other hand plucked and rolled its sister, Geralt groaned against her as she wrapped her arms around his head with a cry. Changing to the other, he tortured each one in the same fashion before finally pulling back. Opening her eyes, Ciri watched panting from the exquisite torture as he pulled off his own shirt revealing his thick sculpted chest and arms. Ciri reached out a hand and marveled at the feeling of the hot hard flesh of his abs. Capturing her hand with his, Geralt leaned forward and brought her hand to his chest letting her run her fingers through the sprinkling of chest hair that drove her crazy. Lowering his torso with the strength of one arm he covered her mouth with his own. Ciri melted into the kiss immediately, playfully gliding her tongue in time against his. Subconsciously he legs widened until they were nearly flat against the floor on either side.

 Pulling away from the kiss, Geralt gave her a devilish smirk at her whimper of disappointment before sitting back up onto his haunches. Grabbing each of her thighs he kept them flat onto the floor as he lowered himself down.

 Ciri frowned, he was too far down for them to join. Shifting uncomfortably Ciri tensed as he brought his face to her sex. This felt awkward. No one had ever seen her like this before. It made her feel terribly self-conscious.

 "Geralt please," she began. "I don't…" her words were stolen right from her throat as her whole body went stiff.

 One single kiss against her folds rendered her helpless. Looking past her breasts and down her stomach she met Geralt's eyes and swallowed at the sinful look he gave her. Turning his attention back to her sex, Geralt placed another kiss enjoying the jolt it sent up her body. Taking one hand from her thigh he gently parted her folds until he revealed exactly what he was looking for. Exposed and swollen, Geralt placed a harder kiss at her clit wrenching a ragged cry from the girl. Practically salivating Geralt covered the nubbin of nerves with his mouth and took it between his teeth suckling and tasting it. Her reaction was immediate as her whole body bucked under the pleasure. Holding the girl down he let his tongue explore her further enjoying the taste of her. Delving deeper Geralt glanced up at her and nearly came at the torture that twisted her beautiful taste. Bucking her hips in time with his tongue he groaned as he felt her hand grasp at his head. Nearing his own end, Geralt suckled hard at the tormented bundle of nerves and felt the girl explode beneath him. His name rang like a song across the room and Geralt had to reach down as squeeze his cock with a hard uncomfortable grasp in an effort to regain his control. She was pushing him to the edge fast and that was not what he wanted. He wanted her moist and ready for him, he wanted her to enjoy every goddamn minute of this.

 Dazed and a little sleepy, Ciri laid limply with her arms and legs spread out as she watched the witcher stand and remove his pants. A note of fear drove away the haze of sleep as she watched with wide eyes as his large cock bobbed with each move. Kneeling back down, Geralt gave her a hard look that revealed just how close he was to the edge of his desire. Fear edged away as she felt something in herself desperately want to answer that call of desire. Lifting up to her elbows, Ciri opened her legs allowing him to position himself in between them. Geralt leaned forward his cock thumping lightly at her entrance sending charges of white-hot lightening through her as his mouth met hers. Sighing into the kiss, Ciri wrapped her arms around his shoulders as she felt him position himself into her entrance. Kissing down her neck Geralt kept the fat head of his cock pressed against her as he placed sweet gentle kisses at her breasts. The juxtaposition of his gentle kisses and the throbbing hard heat pressing against her was driving her mad. Relaxing herself wider, Ciri's body opened itself wider for him and she could feel him begin to enter her.

 Absently, she heard Geralt's whispered apology just before he surged his hips forward. The world around her seemed to melt away as he invaded the deepest part of her body. With her legs entwined around his hips and arms around his shoulders Ciri held on as he rode her body. Hard slapping thrusts mingled with her cries. Reaching deeper and deeper, Geralt ignored her pleas as he drove into her body covering her mouth with his own. She felt the tightening of his muscles and the tremors rip through him as she pulled him deeper into the heat of her thighs. Reaching between them Geralt cruelly pinched and batted at her clit forcing her to break with him. With a hoarse groan of completion along with her own shriek of exultation the room quieted with only their heavy breathing.

 ~

 A creak of the floorboards pulled her from a deep dreamless sleep. Exhaustedly she opened her eyes and spotted Geralt standing by the window. With both of his hands planted on the window sill he stood tall, proud, and completley naked as he stared out the open shutters. Bright blue nocturnal light shined through the warbled glass window reflecting beautifully across the witcher's pale skin and hair. He looked like a marble statue she thought wistfully, letting her gaze drop to the sculpted figure of his backside.

 Not taking his hands from the sill he turned his head and looked over his shoulder, his golden eye twinkling in the pale light. "Are you so eager to continue, princess?"

 Blushing Ciri buried herself deeper into her pillow while pulling the quilts further around her face until just her eyes were visible. Just remembering what they shared together earlier made her whole-body flush and tingle with wanton desire. She did in fact want him to continue. She wanted to hear his animalistic groans in her ear as she felt his hips thrusting powerfully against hers or the sounds his tongue made as he tasted her sex. She wanted it all again and again but she couldn’t bring herself to utter a single sound. Smirking, Geralt closed the shutters again leaving the room bathed in the orange glow from the wood stove before walking back to her. She could see now that the other mattress from her room was placed along side of their current mattress giving them more space as well as the quilt from her room was layered on top of her. Pulling the corner of the quilt back, Geralt slipped in bed beside her, his searing naked heat pressing against her warm skin causing her to let out a sigh. Settling next to her, he turned to his side and propped his head onto his fist unknowingly showing off his bulging biceps and sculpted chest for her roving eyes. Laying a possessive hand over her waist he pulled her close until the tips of her breasts brushed against his skin. Smiling she nuzzled closer until the hair on his chest tickled her nose.

 "Tell me you won't wake up tomorrow and regret this," she said in a low voice.

 Wrapping his arm around her tighter, Geralt lifted her from the bed and turned with her until he was flat on his back and she was draped on top of him. Adjusting the covers around her until they covered them both he gave her small smirk as he folded one arm behind his head in comfort.

 "No, I will not regret it nor will I fight what is between us any longer," his rumbling voice shook through her as he spoke. "You are mine Ciri, not because destiny wills it, not because I say it is so. You are mine because every breath commands me, every step leads me back to you. You are mine because my love will accept nothing less and there is no turning back."

 Ciri didn't move. It felt as if her breath was coming out in huge deep pulls all of a sudden as his words rang out in her mind like a constant echo. He said he loved her.

 Fingers brushing through her hair pulled her back to the present and she noticed his awaiting expression. With tears streaming down her face she pressed her lips to his and whispered her love back as he turned them both over in the bed.

  Fin

 By Katerina Winters

Check out all of my other stories. Go to my site for more.

[luckyjak]

fic: Misery and Company

Fjord and Jester get together. Beau and Caduceus are determined not to cry about it.

[unrequited Beaujester and Fjorclay, background Fjorjester, demisexual Caduceus] A03 Link

This sucked. Everything sucked, and Nott was absolutely not helping. 

“I could talk to her, if you’d like,” the goblin kept offering, quietly and meekly, for the seventh time this day.  She kept close to Beau all afternoon, and it was driving Beau crazy. “She probably doesn’t even like Fjord, really, and you are honestly so much better than him, in like, every way, and--”

But that was stupid, and wrong, because Jester really did like Fjord, and Fjord was a great guy, and Jester was like, super happy now. And it was just a stupid crush, so really, she had no reason to feel as upset as she did. 

And she was upset about it. Upset enough that Caleb and Caduceus both picked up on it. It was a little surprising that Fjord and Jester didn’t pick up on it, honestly, but at the moment it seemed like they didn’t notice much of anything other than holding each other’s hands and sucking each other’s faces every chance they got.

(Yasha didn’t notice, either, but Yasha wasn’t the world’s most observant, most days, and anyway she had had a lot going on, recently, so Beau didn’t blame her.)

“If you want to talk about anything,” Caleb offered, as they stopped at a tavern for an evening’s rest. They weren’t quite in Rosohna--still about three days away-- so they couldn’t go to their house, but they were in a small Xhorasian town, which at least had an inn. If Caleb hadn’t been out of spell slots, they could have gone home, but the battle earlier had been rough. “Anything at all, I’m here for you.” 

His eyes darted between her and Jester, and Beau felt like killing Nott once again for just another moment, but Caleb didn’t say anything else, and so she let it slide. 

She didn’t want to talk about it; what she wanted to do was drink her weight in hard liquor and pass out alone in an empty bed, desperately trying not to think about how her favorite blue tiefling was staying the night with someone else.

Fjord and Jester had left earlier (gag); Caleb snuck away shortly after his conversation with Beau (most likely to talk to a certain dark elf Beau was supposed to pretend she didn’t know about). Nott was braiding flowers into Yasha’s hair, and soon had the good sense to notice that Beau wasn’t in the mood for company, and so had dragged Yasha upstairs to finish.

Which left her alone at the bar, with...Caduceus, it seemed.

He was drinking, and he kept scowling every time he took a sip of his shot. “That’s foul,” he said, sipping it again, his face scrunched in agony over the taste. 

“You aren’t supposed to sip it,” Beau laughed. “It’s a shot. It’s supposed to go down all at once.” She motioned for the barkeep to make her the same drink as Caduceus, and then downed it in one go. “See?”

“It doesn’t burn?” He asked, a genuine look of puzzlement on his face. 

“Oh, no, it totally burns. But it’s a good burn, try it.” She watched, tickled, as he scrunched his face again to down the shot. “I thought you didn’t drink. 

He choked, a bit, wincing from the aftertaste. “I don’t,” he coughed, trying to hide his face with the cloth napkin, wiping his mouth. “But, uh, I was told it was the only cure.” 

“Cure to what?”

“Heartache.” 

“Who told you that?” Beau laughed, but didn’t disagree. 

“Caleb. He seemed like the only one in the group who would know the answer.”

Cad looked up towards the stairs, where everyone else’s rooms were. Where, specifically, Fjord’s room was, where he currently was, with Jester, doing god-knows what, at the moment.

Oh.

She turned to face the bar fully, her elbows on the bar so she wasn’t looking at Caduceus’s face anymore. “You too, huh?”

He motioned for the barkeep to return, and asked for water instead. He took a long drink from his glass, then looked longingly up the stairs. "Me too," he confessed.

“Fjord, huh?” Beau asked softly. “Or do you like Jester, too?”

“Jester’s fine,” Caduceus explained, still not looking at her. “She’s pretty, I guess, but I never saw the appeal.”

Jester was gorgeous, thank you very much, but she supposed different strokes for different folks. “But Fjord?”

Caduceus looked down at his water glass for a quiet moment, then took another drink. “I’ve never been interested in, uh, kissing, before. Never wanted to, never saw the appeal. My sisters were obsessed with it, and my brothers tried to give me advice about it, but I just wasn’t interested. It seemed kind of weird and a little gross, you know? And my mother told me that I just hadn’t found the right person yet, which I thought was silly, but Fjord--” he stopped for a moment, looking down again, examining his hands as if they held the secrets of the universe. “He made me wonder what it would be like to try.”

Beau couldn’t relate: she’d always wanted to kiss girls, but she could imagine Caduceus, with his large family and his empty graveyard, feeling the way he did, and how different it must have felt to feel like that for the first time, ever, only to have the person he liked end up liking someone else. “Oh, Cad--”

“It’s fine. It’s stupid, actually, um,” he drank the rest of his glass of water and avoiding looking at her in the eye. “What about you, and uh, Jester?” He turned so that he was facing Beau again. “How are you feeling?” 

“I feel like shit.” she grumbled, running her hands through her hair. She gestured to the barkeep that she needed another shot. “I knew she was straight. I knew it. And yet I let myself get attached anyway, and now here I am, feeling sorry for myself.” She groaned, laying her head down on the bar. “I feel so stupid.”

“You aren’t stupid.” Caduceus said, placing a warm hand on her shoulder. “Nobody is stupid. The heart is--feelings are complicated, you know?  You can’t control them,” he let go of her shoulder. “I know I didn’t intend to, uh, develop the feelings I have.”

“Hmph. At least I’m not the only one who’s miserable, at least.” She picked up her shot and swirled it around. “Think I can talk you into doing shots with me?”

Cad winced. “Do we have to?”

“It’s the only cure to heartache,” she repeated, handing her shot to him and gesturing the barkeep for another one.

He smirked at her, and took the drink. “Fine. But I reserve the right to get really petty later, and you are just gonna have to let me complain.”

“Caduceus,” Beau said with awed reverence. “Have I mentioned you are my favorite person ever?” Her eyes lit up. She clinked her glass against Cad’s, and then downed the shot. “I can’t believe she’d choose Fjord, of all people.” 

Cad downed his shot, wincing the entire time. “If he liked Jester, why did he wait until now to do something about it?”

“Ohmygod, I know, right???”

They might have had their hearts broken, but at least they weren’t alone.

--

[jrfrostfamily]

Rapunzel and Jack’s Tangled Adventures Season 1

I decided to borrow the summaries of the Tangled episodes of season 1, edit them and even add in an episode of my own. This is for my own take if Jack played a part in the Tangled series. And yes, this is part of my Rise of the Tangled Guardians story. This is pretty much takes place before Jack and Rapunzel became a couple as well as Guardians. I am working more of how this will go. Also, yes I decided to have Eugene in this. Plus, it will help. It puts Jack and Rapunzel’s relationship to the test. Please read on if you guys are curious. I will say it is long. it’s why I put in the Keep Reading so people are not bombarded with a freaking long post...

Before Jack Frost and Rapunzel became Guardians of Fun and Creativity. Even before they became a couple, the two would go on many quests and adventures that will put not only their abilities to the test but their relationship as well. A mysterious powerful rock causes Rapunzel to have her hair regrown back to the seventy feet length it once had, and it causes Jack to lose most of his winter abilities. Together, along with new friends and possible powerful enemies, the two try to figure out the mysteries of Corona and of what lies beyond.Season 1

1) Tangled: Before Ever After

Six months after the events of Tangled, Rapunzel is settling into life in the kingdom of Corona, but is unable to enjoy her life with the constant protection of her father's guards. When she and her lady-in-waiting, Cassandra, sneak out of the castle, they come upon some magical black rock spikes that magically cause her hair to be back to its 70 feet length once more (which is now indestructible, so Rapunzel has to hide it from everyone, especially her parents). Eventually, Jack (who has been granted his winter powers back) Maximus, and Pascal find out about the hair as well, but Rapunzel decides not to tell Jack about the black rocks (because Cassandra doesn't trust him), a decision which he hardly agrees with. Rapunzel manages to hide her hair from her parents but becomes very nervous because of her coronation day. To complicate matters, a female rogue, Lady Caine, appears at Rapunzel's coronation with a hatred of King Frederic who had taken away her father a long time ago. With no other choice, Rapunzel reveals her new 70-foot long hair and, with Jack revealing his own powers, and their friends' help, defeats the thugs. Later, that night, Rapunzel admits to her father that she had snuck out of the castle (but doesn't mention anything about Cassandra helping her), so King Frederic has no other choice, but to forbid Rapunzel from leaving the walls of Corona. Rapunzel feels trapped again (just like in her old tower), but with her mother's encouragement, she decides to take her relationship and role in Corona one day at a time. A little while later, a mysterious individual comes across the site of the magical flower that cured Rapunzel's mother and was the original source of her magical long blonde hair. We see now there is nothing left, but even more mysterious black rock spikes covering the area.

2) What the Hair!?

Nearly a week after her coronation, Rapunzel and Cassandra seek out an alchemist in their first attempt at solving the mystery as to how and why Rapunzel's 70-foot golden hair grew back so fast. Jack follows them for he was worried for Rapunzel especially when she doesn’t tell him why her hair grew back. Things don't go quite as planned; they find Varian, a 14-year-old alchemist who agrees to help uncover the mystery of Rapunzel's hair. However, Varian had built some underground machines which run out of control and destroy the village. Luckily, no one is hurt, and the test shows some important facts about Rapunzel's hair; it's completely indestructible and doesn't have any healing powers anymore, but now can completely cover somebody and protect them. As they leave, Rapunzel begins telling Jack about the events of the night when her hair grew back (which Jack promises to keep secret) and the black rocks slowly start to grow back and multiply.

  3) Flynn Rider

While helping out an orphanage, Rapunzel and Jack meet a strange man named Flynn Rider, though he insists to be called Eugene Fitzherbert. He claims his thieving days are over and that he only wants to help out. Jack and Cassandra do not trust him, but Rapunzel is willing to give him the benefit of the doubt. Then, thieving has been happening around the kingdom. Jack, who has been jealous of Eugene flirting with Rapunzel, insists Eugene is the thief. He rebuts, saying he has nothing to do with it. Rapunzel eventually figures out that it was a cat who has been doing all the thefts. Eugene admits that he was once an orphan and he only wants to help out kids who were unfortunate like him. Rapunzel feels a little flustered around him and is pulled away by a jealous Jack.

4) Rapunzel’s Enemy

During the annual Gopher Festival, Rapunzel is booed by a man in the crowd when she shows her new emblem to the people of Corona. After finding out that the person who booed her is an elderly shopkeeper whom everyone loves, Rapunzel is determined to uncover the reason for Uncle Monty's disapproval of her, even if it means disguising herself. Eventually, she inspires Monty to participate at the Gopher Festival Tournament, but during the race she has to rescue him from a waterfall, blowing her disguise. Monty explains that he booed her because he doesn't like all the changes in the kingdom that have occurred since her return; the two remain enemies but respect each other. Monty wins the race and Rapunzel boos him as a sign of their "special relationship". At his sweets shop, Monty looks very proudly at his trophy, realizing he wouldn't have won if Rapunzel hadn't helped him follow his dream.

5) Fitzherbert P.I.

Due to being horrible at various jobs, Eugene is wondering of how to give back to the princess who was kind enough to let him stay in the castle. After catching a criminal, Eugene trains to be a royal guard. Unfortunately, the Captain of the Guards, who happens to be Cassandra's father, shares Cassandra's loathing of him. He does his best to make Eugene fail, even using maneuvers so underhanded that even Cassandra objects to them. Meanwhile, Rapunzel prepares for her royal portrait to be painted by the revered Italian painter Giovanni. Eugene realizes that Giovanni is a fraud and manages to catch the imposter. The Captain of the Guards then gives Eugene a job of his own; teaching the guards to "think like a thief" in order to catch one. Jack, however, still does not trust him and states he plans to keep an eye on him.

6) Challenge of the Brave

Cassandra trains hard to enter the "Challenge of the Brave", but when Rapunzel learns of the competition, she wants to enter as well. Cassandra lies to Rapunzel to keep her out of the competition, but Rapunzel later learns through Eugene that anyone can enter. They both make it to the final battle and Rapunzel wins because Cassandra accidentally steps out of the ring. Cassandra accepts this and introduces the audience to the winner, but realizing her friend's true feelings, Rapunzel gives the trophy to Cassandra and they both smile and give each other a hug.

7) Cassandra v. Jack v. Eugene

Jack, Cassandra, and Eugene have been arguing a lot. In an attempt to force them to stop bickering, Rapunzel tricks all three into a dungeon cell from which they must settle their differences to escape by solving a series of quizzes. Rapunzel's plan doesn't go well when the Stabbington Brothers take advantage of Jack, Cassandra, and Eugene's failure in order to break jail and take the three prisoners. Jack, Cassandra, and Eugene work together and manage to take the brothers down and (with Rapunzel's help) escape through the secret passages beneath Corona. Jack, Cassandra, and Eugene are now on better terms - until another squabble between the three breaks out, in which Rapunzel decides not to take part.

8) The Return of Strongbow

An old childhood friend and partner-in-crime of Eugene's, Lance Strongbow, comes to Corona to ask him for help. Jack and Cassandra, naturally, do not trust Strongbow. Eugene reluctantly decides to aid his childhood accomplice but learns that they have broken into the basement of "the Baron", an old enemy of theirs. They manage to escape with his treasure but find a ring with Corona's crest in it; Eugene suddenly recalls that the ring he had stolen eight years ago had belonged to Queen Arianna. Jack, Rapunzel, and Cassandra find out and Lance apologizes for all his trespasses against Eugene, promising to change. Eugene confesses all his past actions to Arianna, who forgives him. Eugene gives Rapunzel a jeweled flower and apologizes for having lied to her. While Rapunzel accepts the gift, Jack looks away, jealously eating away at him. King Frederic sees the ring on Arianna's finger; she explains that Eugene had "found it that morning". Lance keeps his promise and donates the treasure to the Corona orphanage.

9) In Like Frost

When Corona is pranked by a rival kingdom, King Frederic sets off to prank it back, accompanied by Jack who not only wants to gain Rapunzel's father's respect but also is considered the King of Pranks himself. The two sneaks into King Trevor's castle; Jack discovers that Frederic was planning to steal Trevor's pet seal, but the two are captured and locked up. Frederic informs Jack he could respect no one any more than the man who returned his daughter. The two escape and prank King Trevor by dropping him through one of his own trapdoors and set his pet seal free. Meanwhile, with the help of Eugene and Cassandra, Rapunzel tries to master the art of pranking, which is a new concept to her. King Trevor ends up tied to one of his statues with a sign reading "Corona Rules" and the seal happily swimming in the sea. Back in Corona, Rapunzel finally understands the art of pranking much to Jack’s delight.

10) Great Expotations

A science exposition is held in Corona; Cassandra has a chance to go on guard duty but must finish her lady-in-waiting obligations first. Varian bargains with Cass to help finish her chores if she agrees to assist him in his demonstration. However, Cass accepts an assignment to guard the famous scientist who is judging the contest and is thus unavailable. When things go wrong, though, she chooses her friend over duty. Meanwhile, Rapunzel, who also gets a curious Jack to join in, tries to make an entry for the science fair. After the science fair is over, Varian shows Jack, Cassandra, and Rapunzel the strange black rock spikes outside his village, much like the ones that made Rapunzel's hair grow back. Varian decides to help Jack, Rapunzel, and Cass uncover the mystery of these rock spikes and the connection between them and the newfound magical abilities of Rapunzel's regrown hair.

11) Under Raps

During a love festival, Corona displays a book full of signatures of lovers in honor of an old ruler's falling in love with the leader of a rival kingdom. Cassandra suddenly turns very secretive; Rapunzel learns it's because she's been seeing a guy. Cassandra doesn't want Rapunzel meddling, but the princess suggests a double date and they all go off in a hot air balloon. The guy turns out to be part of an old faction that didn't like the unification of Corona and wants to steal the book, as Cassandra had suspected that all along. With Rapunzel and Jack's help, she manages to defeat him and recover the book. Cassandra receives a medal for her actions.

12) One Angry Princess

Attila is finally opening up his own bakery, but people generally don't want to stop by because of his scary helmet. The next day, Monty's Sweet Shoppe is destroyed, and Attila is arrested. He is about to be banished from the kingdom, but Rapunzel makes an appeal to investigate the matter further. She fails to learn the truth within the 24-hour time limit but does figure it out just as the boat is leaving. It turns out it was actually the goat who trashed the store, being trapped inside when the store's bell rang and sent it into a rampage. Attila teams up with Monty and they open a sweet shop together.

13) Pascal’s Story

A flashback shows how Pascal arrived at the Rapunzel's tower and became her friend. In the present, Pascal wants to spend time with Rapunzel as in the tower, but her princess duties and new friends keep pushing him aside. Feeling rejected, he runs away to return to the tower. An old predator seeks revenge on the small lizard now that he's all alone again. Rapunzel realizes that Pascal has gone missing and cancels every royal activity planned in order to look for him. Realizing where he has gone, Rapunzel, Jack, and Cassandra seek the place "where everything happened". Rapunzel enters the tower alone and helps Pascal drive the predator away. The two reconcile and Rapunzel promises to spend more time together with her old friend.

14) Big Brothers of Corona

While trying to find Lance a job, Eugene and he are tasked by the Captain of the Guards with capturing a mysterious thief robbing the people of Corona. And much to the displeasure of both, Jack is put in charge of them to make sure they do nothing stupid. They do so but discover that the "thief" is actually two young homeless girls. Sympathizing with the girls, Eugene and Lance decide to help them change their ways. After the girls steal Rapunzel's tiara, Jack, Eugene, and Lance discover the girls are fleeing their own old enemy, the Baron, and exchange themselves for them. The girls come back to help them escape and return everything they've stolen before leaving. Lance obtains a new job as the chef of the Snuggly Duckling. In the end, Jack and Eugene seemed to have a somewhat understanding of one another, though both still give each other a glare to show they haven’t exactly become friends. Meanwhile, Cassandra is accidentally hurt, and Rapunzel keeps trying to help her recover, but the princess's attempts always end more annoying than helpful.

15) The Wrath of Ruthless Ruth

Jack, Rapunzel, and the Captain of the Guard are trapped in the Snuggly Duckling by a fierce storm; the building turns out to be haunted by its former owner, Ruthless Ruth. The Captain and the thugs attempt to escape, but the pub is surrounded by magic and there is no escape until they give Ruth what she wants. Jack and Rapunzel follow the clues and finds that despite Ruth's reputation as the "worst thug that ever lived", she did also have a dream; to hear her song being sung by someone else. Everyone, including the Captain, all sing Ruth's song and are now free. Jack, Rapunzel, and the Captain of the Guard return to the castle where Rapunzel realizes how worried her father is and avoids any confrontation about his sending the whole royal guard to look after her.

16) Max’s Enemy

A new horse, Axel, shows up in Corona and quickly shows up Max in every way, even joining the royal guard and beating all of Max's former records. However, only Max sees the devious nature of Axel's behavior; his true intention was to rescue Lady Caine from the dungeon, along with the gold transfer already planned. Max falls into a trap set by Axel. While he and Lady Caine escape with the gold without any suspicion, Rapunzel looks for Max to apologize for everyone's ignoring him but finds the trap and discovers the plan as well. Rapunzel and Max chase after the two villains and after Lady Caine is recaptured Max races Axel, defeating him just as Rapunzel, Jack, Eugene, Lance, and the guards arrive. Max is seen as a hero by everyone again.

17) The Way of the Willow

It's Queen Arianna's birthday, and she receives an unexpected guest: her estranged sister, Willow. Willow and Rapunzel quickly bond, sharing a lot of the same personality traits, and Arianna feels a bit left out. To add to her aggravation, Willow has given her a pet with an annoying rattle. Eventually, Arianna explodes at her sister, letting her know her irritation with her and throws away the rattle. The pet starts to multiply and rampage over the countryside. The sisters make up and retrieve the rattle, which calms the beast and removes all the other critters. Willow disappears, promising to be more responsible, but forgets the pet she promised to look after.

18) Queen for a Day

Rapunzel takes over the kingdom while her parents go away for their anniversary. A strange and harsh blizzard strikes Corona, keeping everyone inside their houses, and an accident in the mountains traps Frederic and Arianna. At first, it would seem Jack is at fault since he is the winter spirit. However, he states once again he has no control over winter despite him having some of his powers back. The blizzard is not his doing. Rapunzel sends Eugene and the other thugs to rescue her parents while she tries to comfort Jack. Meanwhile, the black rocks keep spreading in Old Corona and begin to approach the castle; Varian and his father Quirin go to talk to King Frederic. When Quirin says nothing about the rocks, Varian talks to Rapunzel who promises to help. Varian starts testing the mystical rocks, but his father forbids him, refusing to tell him anything. One of Varian's experiments result in the rocks trapping Quirin; Varian rushes to ask for Rapunzel's help, but Rapunzel tells him that she can't help him just then, leaving Varian feeling betrayed. Rapunzel orders the evacuation of the island, but then remembers about a legend told earlier by Xavier about an underground machine with the power to change the way of the blizzard. After all these disasters, Rapunzel is unsure if she wants to be queen, while Varian swears revenge.

19) Painter’s Block

Traumatized after the previous events, Rapunzel is feeling out of sorts, even having trouble painting again, and starts taking a class with a mysterious new art instructor. The other members of the class disappear one by one to a mysterious location by the sea, apparently painting an old, withered tree. The instructor is revealed to actually be an old witch serving Zhan Tiri (the monster who released the blizzard), released after the use of the weather machine and wishing to release her master as well. Jack, Eugene, and Cassandra go to rescue Rapunzel, but after they are captured, Rapunzel must finish the painting and release Zhan Tiri in order to rescue them. Now understanding that "difficult decisions are what make us who we are", Rapunzel destroys the painting, trapping Zhan Tiri and the witch forever, and saving Jack, Eugene, and Cassandra. Rapunzel recovers her positive attitude.

20) Not in the Mood

Thanks to Max and Pascal's intervention, Rapunzel, Jack, Eugene, and Cassandra magically exchange personalities during an important royal visit. They turn to Xavier for his help in reversing their personalities to normal. Unfortunately, the elixir switches everyone's character, making a mess of the royal visit. Luckily, Rapunzel earns the respect of the visitor who accepts an alliance with Corona. Rapunzel throws the half-filled potion vial into the river, surprised that something so small could have such an effect; instead of sinking, it floats down to Old Corona and is found by Varian.

21) The Quest for Varian

After another nightmare about her hair, Rapunzel receives a message from Varian saying he may have solved the mystery of the rocks and needs her help finding the bronze Graphtyc. Rapunzel, Jack, and their friends’ journey to Old Corona, which is now overgrown by the Black Rocks. Along the way, they come across a group of masked figures who are out to stop Rapunzel and Jack from seeking the answers she wants.

22) The Alchemist Returns

Varian comes to Rapunzel and Jack for help in finding the remnants of the mystical golden flower, which may hold the key to stopping the Black Rocks. Working together, they venture through the old tunnels beneath Corona. However, as they reach their prize, Varian betrays Rapunzel and Jack and steals the flower so he can use it to free his father. Nevertheless, his attempt fails, only for him to realize that the golden flower's healing magic now exists within Rapunzel.

23) Secret of the Sun Drop

On Rapunzel's nineteenth birthday, Corona is beset by an automaton attack from Varian, which causes Frederic to lock Rapunzel in her room to keep her safe from further danger. Jack, Eugene, and Cassandra help break her out to go after Varian, but the alchemist uses his pet raccoon, mutated into a wild beast, to assault the kingdom, incapacitating many of the Royal Guards and using the chaos to kidnap Arianna, whom he uses as bait to lure Rapunzel to Old Corona. Led by Cassandra, Eugene, Jack, Rapunzel, and Frederic, the Royal Guards lay siege to Varian's house, but he uses automatons to keep them at bay. Varian attempts to use Rapunzel's hair to free his father, but it is of no use. Angry and with nothing left to lose, he uses a giant automaton to attack, threatening to kill Cassandra and Arianna. However, Rapunzel uses her connection to the black rocks to defeat Varian, who is arrested for his crimes and vows vengeance. Rapunzel notices that the rocks are now pointing away from Corona and towards an unknown destination beyond the border wall. Jack notices and asks her what is wrong, and she replies she sees a path which Rapunzel is encouraged to follow and she wants Jack to be by her side. He agrees. In a post-credits scene, a mysterious warrior arrives and uses a special sword to slice through the seemingly impenetrable black rocks.

[capmerthur]

THE ONCE AND FUTURE FIC

Yet another resurrection fic (sorry?). ARTHUR RETURNS IN CHAPTER 2. Lots of feeeeels, and overdue conversations (at last!) between our precious King and Warlock. Title might change as this goes along, but this has always been the work title in my head since I started thinking about writing it, so… Starts right when 5.13 ends. WARNING FOR SUICIDAL THOUGHTS IN CHAPTER ONE.

Excerpt PART VI:

"All those years; and you never said a word. You knew how and when I was to die; and you never said a word."

(PREVIOUS CHAPTERS UNDER CHAPTER VI)

(Sorry everyone - it's been looooong; but I wasn't entirely satisfied with this bit and had to clear it before going on.... here is the revised version, and more will follow !!!) 

 VI. (ARTHUR POV)

("What are you doing here, then? If you neither cured me through the lake nor provoked my return?")

Merlin seems to hesitate - looking embarrassed?

"I was waiting. Since you- I've been waiting for you."

And this just doesn't make sense.

"Why would you think I would, I could, ever come back, if I was...?"

"There is a prophecy, Arthur. So you were to return, in order to fullfill it."

"A prophecy?"

Arthur is stunned shocked. He had expected some malicious sorcery at work and Merlin having heard of it and come over - it would have made sense; and it would have given him the opportunity to fight, if not to save then at least to honour his lost people. But Fate? How is he supposed to make Fate pay? And what is Its intent to begin with? A prophecy about him? Arthur feels powerless. Is his life not even his own?

Then Arthur remembers the puzzling word has passed Merlin's lips once before.

(I'm sorry. I thought I'd defied the prophecy.)

So. Merlin had known about this? Before...? And had never said a word - again? Another secret Merlin has kept from him; but this time, about himself - about *his death*? It feels even worse than Merlin hiding his magic. After all, Merlin's magic concerned Merlin, indeed. But how and why could Merlin - who Arthur considered as his true friend, no matter how often he had repeated they couldn't be - keep something that concerned HIM from him? Especially something that monumental?

It hurts. Arthur wants to scream. But all that comes out is a shocked whisper:

"All those years; and you never said a word. You knew how and when I was to die; and you never said a word."

Merlin looks shattered by the accusation - but he doesn't refute it; only try to explain the unexplainable, eyes apologetic under Arthur's blaming gaze, voice so evidently full of guilt and regrets:

"Because I believed I could actually prevent it from happening, Arthur. You are the once and future king who will unite Albion and bring magic back to the land; and helping you achieve such a goal is to be my destiny. So says the prophecy. So I believed I was the one, the only one, able to prevent it from happening. And as it depended on me alone anyway, I thought I should spare you from the weight of such a burden."

Merlin lets out a deep sigh before meeting his eyes fully again, his voice turning urgent and pleading:

"What was I supposed to say? That your loved ones would turn against you? You wouldn't have believed me. And even if you had... I didn't want you to have to worry all the time and about everything. You have no idea how it feels - the infuriating and desperate helplessness; to constantly fight to stop something you constantly fear, but to see everything you ever try twist and turn against you; to realize at every corner that what you thought you understood means something entirely different; and that nothing you ever do makes a difference in the end... 'Once and future'? I used to think it meant you would win the war; take your throne back for good. Or die trying, by Mordred's hand and Morgana's will - but only if I failed. There were two stories, and I thought it was to be or/or; but it was and/and. I was such a fool, Arthur; such a blind fool. It's only when you- when you- that I understood what it truly meant as a whole."

Merlin sounds utterly sincere; not only heartbroken but even empty after his confession.

And Arthur wants to believe that Merlin's silence had been well-meant.

But Arthur can't help but feel betrayed still, lingering on the echo of yet another odd word he hadn't realized to be literal at the time.

(It's my destiny. As it has been since the day we met.)

And Arthur finally understands what he has never been able to comprehend until now. Merlin's puzzling bone-deep *devotion* to him; that dumbfounding unequivocal absolute *commitment* he has never wanted to doubt nor question. Well; it turns out it has in fact little to do with him... He is just a mean to an end, right? Arthur can't help but replay their shared years through his head now with this new knowledge; and it all slashes through him like a double treachery. Arthur can't even tell what feels the worst:

Did I ever know you at all?

Do you even like me at all?

'I want you to always be you', he had said - and he had meant it: the magic, all in all, had only been an addition to who Merlin was. But this? This isn't a simple revelation. This feels like a revolution - a definitive, shattering change. And it hurts, losing Merlin; even though he's right in front of him. Does the person he had always believed Merlin to be even exist? Yet another grief, on top of his fresh mourning for everyone and everything he's lost...

Arthur's hands turn into fists at his sides to suppress his urge to snarl.

"So that's why you came to Camelot. To fullfill your destiny."

"What? No! I had no idea- My mother hoped Gaius might be able to guide me: I had questions, about my magic, and-"

Merlin seems honestly surprised - and appalled - by his train of thoughts; at once standing and coming closer in his urge to explain. But Arthur moves away, keeping distance between them. He cannot trust anymore in his abilities to see straight through Merlin without further information. He has never seen straight through Merlin, apparently.

"When did you hear about it then?"

"A few days after I had arrived in Camelot", Merlin confesses right away; eyes pleading, definitely understanding the terrible weight of his words yet obviously choosing to come clean - but not moving closer this time, knowing it would only be rejected.

And it's here, again; in those little things. The way Merlin not only respects his boundaries, but respects them *even at his own expense*. The way Merlin has kept so much hidden, and for so long; yet can't actually tell a lie right to his face when asked for the outright truth, even to save his own skin. It cannot be pretense, right? On the one hand, Merlin's face tells him all he needs to know. But on the other hand, Arthur still needs more answers, and he commands them.

"Who told you?" (Not Gaius, right? Please; not Gaius.)

"Kilgarrah."

"Kilga- who?" Arthur is honestly puzzled. He surely never heard of someone with such a name in Camelot.

"The dragon your father kept prisoner under the castle."

"What are you speaking about?" Arthur doesn't let Merlin time to answer though, cutting him once more as he opens his mouth - collateral information must wait for later, when faced with such an enormity. "No matter; one treacherous beast just said (can dragons even talk?) *this nonsense*, and you believed it? It's insane!"

"The druids spoke about it too."

"That's even more insane! Why would the druids trust- They hated Camelot. They hated me."

"They didn't. Not all of them, at least. (helpless sigh) Anyway, the prophecy is truth, Arthur. Your return is proof of it. You were to rise again; when Albion's need would be greatest. And you just did, Arthur. You just did."

The words stab through Arthur, making him see red. So Arthur cannot be softened by the evident not only wonder but even joy in Merlin's voice and eyes and everything. It comes out in a roar.

"My people needed me! What need can ever be greater than that responsability!"

Silence falls, all the more shattering after his outburst.

But Merlin has heard his need for an answer, and so he gives him one - even if it's none; shaking his head in helplessness, voice breaking and eyes begging:

"I do not know, Arthur."

Merlin is nothing but obviously caring, and sorry - sorry for him; holding his gaze with only patience and commiseration - hurt about his hurt, regrets about his regrets, and helplessness about his helplessness.

And somehow, having to see Merlin's hurt and regrets and helplessness feels worse - worse than his own hurt and regrets and helplessness, somehow: because the pain on Merlin's features is his own doing, again - even though Arthur has sworn to himself only moments ago never to hurt Merlin that badly anew; and even though Arthur knows that none of the injustice he feels is Merlin's fault to start with, if everything had already been written in the stars anyway. Arthur now feels guilty for having lashed out.

Besides, Arthur knows his rage cannot and will not change a thing, sadly. Even Merlin's supposedly unparalleled magic is powerless, obviously. So. His whole purpose, his reason to be, has simply vanished. The desperate rage finally turns into crushing grief, the shout into a devastated whisper.

"The only destiny I ever wished for was to be the King Camelot needed. And now Camelot is gone."

"No."

The fiery professed word brings his attention back to Merlin - Arthur hasn't been expecting an answer; it hasn't been a question. Merlin shakes his head, a clear denial; and then kneels down on one knee, all reverent, head bowed down.

"For as long as I draw breath, Camelot still stands, Arthur. I may have grown up in Ealdor, but you have always been and will always be my King."

The words ring nothing but deeply heartfelt. But to Arthur, they only feel infuriating. Merlin officially bowing to him off formal ceremonial occasions makes him sick. Because surely Merlin is deferent in any way but not that one, especially when it's just the two of them. And most of all, because this is fake and wrong. Arthur wouldn't tolerate even for the most helpless person to bow to him simply because he should to start with; so the greatest warlock to walk the Earth, the most powerful being alive probably? The idea isn't only ludicrous, it's simply nauseating.

"Because a prophecy says that you were 'born to serve me'?", Arthur can't help but spit out, knowing now how literally Merlin had meant those words. It is not enough. It could never be enough. Arthur lets out a deep sigh though at the edge he couldn't keep out from his tone, realising in fact and no matter what, he is more angry at Merlin's Fate than at Merlin himself. How come Merlin isn't enraged too, to start with? He is just as much a puppet of Fate as he is, isn't he? "Get up Merlin; this is ridic-"

"Because I wouldn't change a thing, Arthur", Merlin exclames, cutting him mid-sentence. And it is not often indeed that Merlin actually raises his voice in anger at him; and it startles Arthur silent.

Arthur has crossed a line, apparently. The most startling though is to realize that Merlin's lines aren't about himself (he sure never looked angry over buckets full of cold water over his head or anything): they're about Arthur - once about Arthur creeping around in the woods unprotected for example; now about Arthur misreading him. Merlin's eyes are now boring into his, nothing but fierce and ardent; even though his voice turns again gentle and even adamant:

"You are not my King because of a prophecy. You are my King *in spite* of it. I grew up wondering why I was born with the abilities I had, indeed. But when I was told... Believe me, I really didn't want it to be true; at least, you bet I didn't want it to be *about you*. But then... I got to see what you were truly made of; who you really were. And everything I've ever done since then has always been for and because of you. That's why my magic is for you; and only for you, Arthur. Not because I am supposed to; but because I want to. Because I believe in you. And if my destiny is to be of any help to you then I am proud of it indeed - because I am proud of you."

As always, Merlin just sounds sincere, radiating unwavering loyalty; and Arthur is baffled. Can it still be true, despite it all?

"Please get up, Merlin," Arthur repeats, this time more gently.

"Not yet."

Stubborn - as always, again. It would make Arthur smile if it didn't feel so heartbreaking.

But then, Merlin lowers his gaze once more as his hand moves about his collar, and Merlin is presenting him with Camelot's ruler's ring, holding it out.

"Here. Gwen had what is rightly yours - according to each soul in Camelot - sent to me; so that I could give it back to you on your return."

And Arthur is paralyzed. It means so much. But he cannot take it. It is both too much and not enough. And more importantly: he has no right to - he has let his people down.

"Please, Sire."

And Arthur hears the word exactly for what it is. 'Sire' had used to be his official appellation in Merlin's language in their beginning ('My Lord' being restricted for sarcastic comments since its first use). But its meaning has grown over time - as Arthur had let simply his first name or nothing at all become the norm between them - and Merlin only uses it now on special occasions: whenever Arthur needs an extra boost in confidence and Merlin feels like insisting on his allegiance to him. Some things apparently truly never change.

"It doesn't have to be for me; nor for you."

He's transparent to Merlin, isn't he? Always has been, probably. It doesn't feel worrying though. It is a gift, to have someone who understands him that intrinsically.

"It is the wish of your people. Take back your ring. Wear it with pride. For the love of Camelot."

And how could Arthur deny this? The rallying cry is deep embedded in his soul, indeed - and he would never turn it down. No matter his guilt or inadequacy, Arthur will honor his people's will.

"For the love of Camelot."

Arthur finally takes the ring from Merlin's hand and puts it on.

/

AN:

I swear, those two will be the end of me. Everything about them is so LOADED, and it hurts :( Their shared history is heavy. Merlin's lonesome centuries are heavy. Arthur losing in a wink his reason for being is heavy. I'll never rest until they get some happiness, they just deserve it :(

Also, please don't be angry at Arthur. He's not at his best in this bit, I agree; but his purpose for being alive is gone for good and he's supposed to be all right 'because it's meant to be'? He has a lot to go through, and it is a lot to take in. So remember two chapters ago. Arthur isn't good with talking about feelings; but he's brave, and when it matters, he speaks - and he actually said A LOT to Merlin then, for someone usually emotionnally constipated who expresses his affection by throwing punches, right...

(PREVIOUS CHAPTERS)

(Warning for this chapter: suicidal thoughts)

I. (MERLIN POV)

Merlin holds Mordred’s sword in his right hand, appraising it. He still can’t believe he has found it; still can’t believe it’s actually in his hands.

Over sixty years now - nothing; yet far too long - Merlin has been waiting for this moment. Since he has begged Freya, and threathened (and apologised - he couldn’t blame Freya for not listening; he wouldn’t have either, if their roles had been reversed), and begged again - in vain, for Excalibur. Since he has finally understood that he was a fool to hold onto hope for something that couldn’t, wouldn’t come to pass. Arthur was *never* coming back: Merlin had simply witnessed enough - he had witnessed too much; and too many times; and definitely one time too much one time too many - to ignore it any longer.

/

It was not that Merlin had grown too tired of waiting - too tired of the ache, the longing, the loneliness… For Arthur? Merlin would *always* wait; however long it might take.

It was not that Merlin had come to believe mankind didn’t deserve Arthur to rise again to start with - even though it *was* an easy conclusion, when it was at its worst, when it turned its anger against itself - too many horrors, atrocities, bloodshed. But mankind could be beautiful, when loving, in any form; and marvelous, too, when it was at its best; when it turned its anger towards its limits: the medical progress over the ages would have had Gaius exhilarated, and proud; and what about its general neverending thirst for discovery, for explorations, for quests? - of course Arthur would come back: if only he could.

It was just that Merlin had finally understood that he had been played - not even because Albion (the name has since long fallen out of use and its people had been scattered through the globe, so it might mean nowadays something else than it had used to to start with) had got united without Arthur (and even if it still only meant Great Britain, well, it might after all need to be united again); but simply because the list of unending reasons why Arthur should have come back to save the day and yet hadn’t (to mention only the very top of the list: half of humanity wiped out in a finger snap by the Black Death? the whole world collapsing in chaos, bend on destroying itself - World War?) had turned out suspiciously too long, and finally impossibly too long, as mankind had truly reached the lowest point not only ever but even possible without Arthur rising yet again (organised experiments and torture on toddlers, honestly?).

So.

Arthur wasn’t ever coming back from the dead, simply because no one ever came back from the dead (except as a shade - and that would be even worse, wouldn’t it? - or at a cost too great to burden anyway). It had been easy to believe in the prophecy; simply because it had been what Merlin had wanted. A distant promise of Arthur returning was still way better than no Arthur at all, and so Merlin had willingly taken the bait. But the fake prophecy had obviously been made up; as revenge, or entertainment - or both; and Merlin had felt stupid for not having realized this ages ago - The Sidhe were proud indeed; and Merlin had thwarted them. (It had been easy to forget it at first - to tell himself that they hadn’t known Arthur was THE Arthur at the time, whatever…) Merlin wasn’t sure about what Kilgharrah might have exactly known or not (On the one hand, Kilgharrah had forged Excalibur, who had always truly helped them. And Merlin had been warned by the Great Dragon, right from the start, and repeatedly; so wouldn’t it all have worked out just fine if he had listened. On the other hand, if he had listened? Wouldn’t he have been a monster, punishing people for crimes they had not yet committed? So maybe giving him the truth had in fact been the sure way to have him not acting on it. After all, Kilgharrah had hated the Pendragons - at least Uther - enough to have tried to wipe out Camelot. And he hadn’t been exactly pleased either to discover Merlin was a Dragonlord, even if he had seemed to soften when he had realized that Merlin would not control him as a puppet. And last but not least, Kilgharrah hadn’t taken care of Aithusa as Merlin had thought he would; and that’s how Aithusa had ended up with Morgana - and had forged the sword that had killed Arthur), but it didn’t change anything anyway…

Well, you bet Merlin hadn’t been willing to indulge them any longer. Not that anger was what was driving Merlin, of course. There was simply *no point* anymore in waiting. Nor in living, to be honest - especially as it might be what kept him from actually finding Arthur again somehow; next life, paradise, wherever and however and whenever? Merlin was no religious man, but even he had no answer about what happened after death after all. Maybe it was worth a shot? It was a very, very thin chance indeed; but it was still more of a chance than just staying here waiting for *nothing*… So. Merlin had begged Freya for Excalibur. But as she had kept absent, it had dawned on him at some point that Excalibur wasn’t the only blade he could use… Merlin had searched for that other mighty weapon through his magic for years; then had sent his creature to retrieve it when he had successfully localized it.

/

And here, now, finally, is Mordred’s sword.

And Merlin feels no dread, no fear, while holding it. If anything, he feels calm - calmer than he has ever been, probably. And that’s how Merlin knows that his decision is indeed right: even his magic agrees.

He should do it in the lake though. Magical artifacts just shouldn’t linger around in the open, huh…

Yes.

Let Mordred’s blade rest along Excalibur.

And let Merlin rest along Arthur.

Freya will make sure they all lay undisturbed.

Merlin blindly pulls at the cord around his neck, taking it out from under his tunic and sliding his left hand along it until it closes around Arthur’s mother sigil (AN) and Camelot’s ruler’s ring (Gwen had it brought to him, so he could give it back to its true owner on his return: Camelot in the meantime was to be ruled by a Concil of Knights and a Guardian, until Arthur would come back to sit on his kept empty throne and his kept empty seat at the Round Table).

Merlin closes his eyes; makes a silent promise.

I’m coming, Arthur.

He takes a first step into the lake.

.

Backstory: +1500 years in short - because it hurts and I just don’t have the heart to fully write the prologue I had intended to write:

Merlin has never left the lake. He kept waiting. He couldn’t, wouldn’t leave, (nor SLEEP even for that matter by the way) no matter for how short - imagine if Arthur came back just when he was NOT there, huh. And of course he wouldn’t trust his magic to warn him somehow - it had failed Arthur when he needed it the most after all. So no. Merlin has never left the lake. But Gaius has mentioned to him (Merlin got visitors, in the beginning (and his mother came to live with him until she died); before he cut himself off the world) how maybe the time he was given without Arthur was to LEARN more about magic; so that he would be prepared when Arthur came back to face whatever ordeal they were supposed to face. Because even if Merlin is hyper *aware* - he feels *everything*, through his magic - practice is necessary too.  So Merlin mastered the art of molding sand/clay and animating it with his magic (basically, he walks the Earth as Old Merlin - because people tends to let old grumpy men on their own - whenever he needs anything physically). He can speak, hear, see, learn, through him, following the world as it expands (America, Australia, etc etc, because even if he was aware they existed, he couldn’t physically *go* there before they were ‘found’). And he can touch, and carry (for example you bet he brought back something red for Arthur to wear every time - Merlin sort of owns a ‘male red mode through the ages’ museum by now - and he hates it, of course).  The first time Merlin has truly thought Arthur *would* come back has been The Great Plague. The second time has been WWI. The last drop has been the Nazis and Unit 731 experimentations.  So Merlin sent its creature to fetch Mordred’s sword after having localized it though his magic - and that’s what Old Merlin is bringing back to him when this all starts (aka that shot at the end of 5.13)…

(AN: Just so you know, Merlin’s magically pierced in the thickness of Ygraine’s sigil to pass a cord - he  wouldn ’t make a hole in the front design of course!)

(Also… A resurrection fic!? What am I getting myself into!? I’m still a newbie around here so I definitely haven’t read enough Merlin fics to ever claim making something original (so by the way, please feel free to let me know your all time favourites resurrection fics! So far I’ve read The Change Trilogy and Like the cycle of the year we begin again (and they’re both gorgeous reads so run and read them if you haven’t yet!) but I haven’t seen (yet?) my take, both on the waiting and on the getting along after Arthur’s return, in the fics I’ve read so far, so I thought I might as well write this down ?)

.

II. (ALTERNATE POV)

Arthur regains consciousness under water.

He’s cold; so cold he’s shaking - helpless, steady spasms he just can’t put an end to (being past half dead apparently has repercussions?). But it’s bright, up over him, and he instinctivally pushes himself up towards the light; towards the air.

The moment he breaks the water, Arthur registers that he’s not only alive but that he feels *just right*. No pain in his side, no weakness, no dizzinesss, no strain: nothing wrong at all - except from the convulsions from the cold, but you bet he’s not going to complain, all considered. The sun is veiled by clouds, but feels nonetheless like a welcomed warmth on his face, and Arthur breathes deep, bringing his arms up and turning his palms towards the warmth too as the tremors start to subdue; he’s alive!; and well! He doesn’t need to pat his absent wound in wonder, nor to look at the water, transparent clear instead of bloodened red, to know that what he feels is true.

Merlin’s done it.

He *has* saved his life.

Again.

It’s both unexpected (Arthur had been so sure he had taken his last breath, when all had finally faded to black) - and yet somehow expected. Magical waters and a sorcerer who knows how to work its power would do wonders, obviously. It has happened before after all, bringing his beloved Guinevere’s spirit back?

A sudden realization; and Arthur can’t help but laugh. And it feels so exhilarating - alive! alive! - the laugh turns into a howl; and Arthur relishes on it, throwing his head back. Honestly? How could he have ever been *so* blind - of course it had been Merlin then too by the water edge, disguised as an old woman!

/

Somewhere on his right, a buoying laugh erupts.

And Merlin knows that laugh. So hearing the exact right tone of that entirely unexpected laughter at once feels as if a vicious invisible hand is squeezing at his heart.

He had forgotten it; he realizes. But he would recognize that howling laugh amongst any other…

Merlin doesn’t dare to *believe*. Cruel hope nonetheless blooms unbidden in his heart, and his eyes can’t help but zero in on the source of that sound.

And it is exactly as it should be; exactly as it has used to be…

There *is* ARTHUR; standing in the lake, water reaching his hips, chainmail glistening, head thrown back as he laughs. (Has anyone ever looked more simply breathtakingly majestic no matter what they did and even without trying?) Merlin can only see his back, but you bet he would recognize the shape of that back amongst any other too.

Merlin’s breath is knocked out of him; and Mordred’s sword falls from his hand.

Merlin knows what he hears and sees *cannot* be true. He has seen the world in a much, MUCH more desperate state without Arthur coming back then. There is absolutely no reason for Arthur to come back right now. So. He is being granted a vision; that’s all. But of course Merlin wouldn’t, couldn’t, try to take his own life anymore, not after having had even just a glimpse… Besides, he has just handed over the last sword that could end him anyway. Merlin has to acknowledge The Sidhe’s thinking; they know exactly well how to play him. But damn, they are vicious.

But no matter the abysmal pain from such a low blow, Merlin still considers this to be a gift, and is determined to draw it out for as long as he will be allowed to. Those few seconds might sustain him for another fifteen centuries to come, and maybe more…

/

Arthur quiets down after a while. Thinking about his savior: where is he?

Arthur scans his surroundings; and the warmth he feels when he finally spots Merlin definitely eclipses the sun.

/

The laughing stops, and Arthur turns, eyes searching; and a bright smile appears on Arthur’s face the moment they find him.

“Merlin!”

Merlin’s knees give out. His name through Arthur’s lips has sounded *exactly* right - righter than in any memory Merlin has relied on to live on hanging onto. And it hurts. The shame, and guilt - to realize he had forgotten *this* too? It shouldn’t have been possible - to have something so dear going misformed; a pale, withered, incomplete, erroneous copy, so far from the original that its truth has disintegrated? Oh yes, it hurts.

And Merlin’s fingers dig; hard, deep into the sand. He cannot reach out. He longs for; he *aches* to - both physically and emotionnally. But he cannot. As long as it’s only his eyes and ears that are deceived, then he can pretend it is true…

Merlin starts to cry. He can’t help it; he cries - as he hasn’t cried since, well, all those years ago: silent tears endlessly streaming down his face, unabached, treacherous; and Merlin hates them - hates the way they blur his vision when he has to - HAS TO - *see*. He is powerless to stop them though.

It is *blinding*.

Merlin has tried, so hard, to keep remembering, to NOT forget. But his memories, even sustained with his magic, have so obviously failed him; haven’t done Arthur any justice at all. Merlin has forgotten so, SO much; and being proven just how much he has actually forgotten slices through him like a knife. The exact darker shade of Arthur’s blond hair when wet. The exact way Arthur stands and moves. The exact sharpness of Arthur’s features - his nose, his cheeckbones, his jawline. The exact shape of that smile - that particular, undeniably fond smile following his name Merlin has used to live for and from. Guilt slashes through him again. How could he have *forgotten* the exact shape of *that* smile; the most precious to him amongst the myriad of each and every of Arthur’s smiles?

/

But then Merlin collapses, instead of cheering with him - he has thought him gone for good? And Arthur suddenly feels like there is still after all a gaping aching wound on his body; but this one deep in his chest, and of his own making. He owes Merlin *everything*, doesn’t he? Yet he has hurt him - and so very severely. Despite it, though, Merlin obviously still cares for him; and so very much… His own behaviour puts Arthur to shame. So. Arthur hadn’t had the time nor the strength to plainly apologize before. But he has now; and he won’t run away from the words that he needs to say - and even more important, that Merlin needs to hear…

/

Arthur is now rushing through the water towards him - so fierce!, so strong!; alive and well!? His smile is gone though; replaced by worry - because of Merlin’s tears, no doubt: yet another reason to hate them then…

And then Arthur is plopping down in front of him, out of breath; and Merlin gets proof again of just how much he had forgotten - the exact colours and depths of Arthur’s eyes! There is now a fragile smile back on Arthur’s face - a soothing smile, meant only for Merlin’s sake; and it’s going to break Merlin’s heart, no doubt.

.

III. (MERLIN POV)

“I’m fine, Merlin. I’m fine.”

And not only the voice is perfect, but the language is the one Merlin hasn’t heard for over a millenium…

“Arthur?” is all Merlin can let out - no more than a somewhat hiccuped whisper as he still has no breath, no voice, to start with; but an obvious plea coming from the depths of his soul. A world of wonder, and longing, and ache, and disbelief, and hope - because no matter what, Merlin can’t help but want; can’t help but hope - in those two syllabs that own his heart. Magic *does* exist, after all; and Merlin would give it all - all the magic he possesses, all his pain, all his hopes, everything - for this vision to turn real.

Arthur’s already fragile smile falters: “Don’t you remember, Merlin. No man is worth your tears.” The reproach is nothing but badly fake though, and Arthur’s voice somehow breaks as it ends: “Especially not me.”

And then suddenly - and so quickly Merlin doesn't register any of it before it has actually happened, and so it is too late for him to move backwards to prevent it from happening - Arthur brings his hands on Merlin's face, gloved fingers brushing his tears away under his eyes - and Merlin can *feel* them!?

Merlin is lost; lost in what he sees, lost in what he hears, and lost in what he feels. Can this be true? Can it truly be true?

But then Arthur starts speaking again - rushed out words leaving Merlin stunned.

"I apologize, Merlin. The way I reacted- (sigh) I deserve all the names you've ever called me and more. I'm thick, and dumb, and *such* an idiot, and a complete dollophead, and a cabbage head, and a prat, and a royal *ass*, and I still don't know what a clotpole exactly is but I'm certain I am the definition for one indeed too. I may have seen anyone with magic turning against me; but I should never have doubted *you*, Merlin. I should have remembered the butterfly (AN)."

Merlin just cannot believe what he's hearing. It's everything he has ever wanted to hear; everything he has ever hoped to hear - so how can it be real?

"But more than anything, I think, I'm sorry because I should have known, Merlin. I called you a liar; looked at you like you had betrayed me. But you've told it. You actually shouted it for everyone to hear; and I believe you nearly told it to me, privately, at least once, and presumably more... But I just didn't want to hear it, did I? So I'm sorry I was such a coward; a *coward*, Merlin. And I'm so sorry, and so ashamed - and honestly I really can't blame you for not trusting me to understand: because you were right; and it guts me, Merlin. And 'There is no place for magic in Camelot'? How hard it must have been for you to say-"

Merlin can't help but shake his head, about to interject. Not because (even if it's true) one exception shouldn't and couldn't be enough to break a rule anyway; at least not at once, and not until Arthur would understand that magic itself isn't corrupt. Not because it hadn't been hard in fact to say those words - at least not hard enough, and that will always feel wrong. But simply because real or not just cannot matter anymore; not when Arthur's gaze is boring into his very core, pleading and honest and full of a guilt Merlin just can't bear to witness: "Arthur-"

Arthur silences him though, cutting him off by shaking him once by the shoulders: “But what counts is that I know, now, Merlin. Your magic is not only part of who you are; it also makes you who you are. And I will trust it; because I trust *you*. You must believe- No, let me rephrase this before you obey me again - because you *always* obey me, don’t you Merlin; even when whatever I say in anger or despair isn’t intended nor meant to be an order; and I’ve done it so often, haven’t I… ‘Do not put me into that position again’? ‘Tell me it’s gone’? (AN) So. Can you believe me; Merlin? It’s not an order; I definitely do not deserve to give you any order at all to start with anyway. You don't even have to forgive me; you shouldn't forgive me maybe. But please, at least, can you b-”

“Of course I believe you. And there is nothing to forgive, Arthur. Nothing.” Merlin half shouts, ancient words flowing instinctively, head skaking 'no’ for emphasis, bringing his hands up to Arthur’s wrists and pushing downwards, keeping Arthur’s hands in place on his shoulders. If this is a waking dream then Merlin never wants to leave it. This is solid enough, real enough, for the rest of his maybe neverending life. “You’re here. You’re well. That’s all that matters, Arthur; I swear that’s all that has ever mattered to me.”

Arthur holds his gaze for a long, long time; as if waiting for Merlin’s clear eyes to betray his words. And when he finally seems confident enough that they are indeed genuine, he whispers, but it sounds like a pledge: “And you’re here, Merlin, and you’re *you*; and I swear that’s all that will matter to me from now on.”

.

AN: Tiny quote from my Body Swap fic; sorry, I just couldn’t NOT put it there, it just FITS…

(Also, just imagine they speak in old brittonic… but please don’t expect me to write it? sorry?)

.

IV. (MERLIN POV)

Arthur squeezes his shoulders one last time and then lets go, about to stand.

“Now, let’s go home. We have a feast to prepare in your honor.”

Merlin cannot tell if his heart has just completely healed or totally disintegrated. Let’s go home?

It’s real! Of course it’s real. If Arthur doesn’t know- It’s real! Arthur is truly back! And that’s…

But *Arthur doesn’t know*. And so *Merlin will have to tell*.

Merlin blanches. He feels guilty, anew. Because he has hoped and prayed and begged for Arthur to return; with everything he had. He has been selfish, hasn’t he? And he has been blind; stupidly blind - again. All those years he has prepared for taking care of a still bleeeding wound, for clothes, for food, for any necessities; but it has never crossed his mind that Arthur wouldn’t know… and he is not prepared for Arthur’s emotional pain; and even less for causing it. Some small part of Merlin can’t help but wish now that Arthur had stayed in the lake after all, had never awoken. It’s too cruel. Merlin shouldn’t be the one to break Arthur’s heart.

Arthur is reading his panick wrong, of course:

“Don’t worry- No one else has to know about your magic if you don’t want to. But you DID end the war, Merlin; you did what I couldn’t do - Morgana… All Camelot should know what they owe y-”

And Merlin can’t bear Arthur’s concern on his behalf any longer; making it last feels like a betrayal. And no matter how much Merlin doesn’t want Arthur to get hurt, ever, he cannot and will not lie - not about this. Conjuring ghosts wouldn’t be real and would only make it worse in the end anyway. The only option is a clear cut, right away.

“It’s not- (deep breath) I’m so sorry, Arthur. We cannot go home. You were gone. For such a long time. For such a long, long time, Arthur. I’m so, so, sorry.”

And Merlin watches, feeling his eyes filling up once more, as Arthur’s eyebrows furrow in incomprehension; as Arthur blinks, taken aback as realization hits; as Arthur’s eyes turn desperate and pleading, shaking his head in denial-

“No. I remember just-” His voice falters as he probably notices the house behind them - the house that definitely hadn’t been there before - and who knows what more (trucks on the road farther away? joggers in strange clothes passing by?) “And you look exactly-”

And Merlin has nothing to say, nothing to offer, to soothe the hopelessly growing pain ready to crush his King, hollow him out - nothing but the cruel testimony of his once more, always, useless tears; and Arthur knows, indeed.

It comes out as a whisper, but it sounds as if Arthur’s spirit has gone with it, vacillating.

“They’re all-”

And the only thing Merlin can say still is: “I’m so sorry” - again.

“My people? My Knights? My- Guinevere…”

And it hurts. Oh, it hurts; to have to see Arthur’s broken heart on his face, to hear its crack as his voice breaks on his Queen’s name and his head turns away.

“I’m so sorry.”

A litany; a chant; a prayer. Over, and over, and over. Pointless, worthless, useless, anyway; as his King cries silent tears, all the more shattering by their quietude…

Then Arthur is up and pacing, a fierce but dark spark in his eyes as his hands turns into fists - anger, rage; of course.

“Why did you bring me back then? How could you bring me back if-?”

And Merlin would gladly take a blow; if it could help Arthur to feel better, somehow. But nothing comes. It’s Arthur. Of course nothing comes.

Arthur briefly closes his eyes, inhaling sharply. And when he opens them again, Arthur’s anger hasn’t faded; but isn’t directed towards Merlin anymore.

“But then; you would have brought me back right away, wouldn’t you have - if it had been in your power…”

And Merlin feels crushed, again; by how he *always* fails Arthur, indeed.

“I’m so sorry…”

.

AN: I realize I do have a thing for Merlin crying - blame it on Colin’s A+ crying performances - so of course it has to appear somewhere… Merlin will not weep though for much longer, if it can reassure you…

.

V. (ARTHUR POV)

Merlin hasn't said the word; but Arthur heard it anyway.

Dead.

He'd been dead.

And for such a long, long time, Merlin had said; even though it feels merely minutes since he closed his eyes?

It makes no sense; it feels unreal - impossible. Merlin hasn't aged a day...

And yet... The grief in Merlin's eyes tells him it's true. Everyone he knows, except Merlin, is gone. Arthur doesn't know what feels worse. To know that he will never see any of them again; or to know that he has failed them all... He feels unfulfilled, hollowed out; utterly lost, even though knowing exactly where he is...

He feels furious, too. What is the point of coming back to life, if it's coming back *too late*?

But Arthur simply knows, somehow, that Merlin - who has literally collapsed upon seeing him emerge from the lake; who has seemed so utterly shattered by his apology; and who looks now so honestly sorry for his loss, gazing up at him from the ground, nothing but stabbing understanding and concern in his eyes - isn't to blame for that lost time.

Which means his presence, here and now, is puzzling indeed:

"What are you doing here, then? If you neither cured me through the lake nor provoked my return?"

.

@clone-number-1

[chilly-territory]

Uchouten Kazoku 2, chapter 2 (part 1 out of 4)

Not a word on the Nidaime or tengu in this whole chapter... but lots of tanuki and shogi.

The Eccentric Family: The Nidaime’s Homecoming (Uchouten Kazoku: Nidaime no Kichou) by Morimi Tomihiko

Chapter 2 (part 1/4, pages 69-83) Gyokuran of Nanzenji Temple

When a male and a female tanuki fall in love, it's said that they're tied with the red fur of fate.

There was no end to tanuki whose hearts were set aflutter by that fishy myth prompting them to search every nook and cranny of the body in an attempt to pick out the precious single red hair. While they were busy with that, in the shade of trees in Yoshidayama, on the premises of Koujin-sama[*1], and in the greenhouses of the Kyoto Prefectural Botanical Gardens, a discreet furry friendship between tanuki gentlemen and tanuki ladies was steadily deepening. 'There is only one tanuki like you in the whole world,' he says. 'No other tanuki is like you in the whole world,' she says. Lovey-dovey on display!

On that note, there was one particular deep and furry love story.

Once upon a time, in the Tanukidani-Fudou forest, located in the Ichijouji district of Sakyou-ku ward, there lived a certain tanuki girl named Tousen, as juicy and fresh as a peach and as nimble and agile as an enlightened mountain sage [*2]. From morning to night, she played on the stairway that counted 250 steps leading to the shrine. A single shout of 'Drop dead' was enough for her to repel any halfwit that dared make light of her. The little tanuki in the neighborhood called her 'Tousen the Stairs-Wanderer' out of respect and reverence.

One day, a group of unfamiliar tanuki kids appeared in Tanukidani-Fudou. Inspired by the tsuchinoko boom that was taking the tanuki world by the storm at the time, they were the self-proclaimed Tsuchinoko Expedition Team, a bunch of mischievous boys who wrought havoc on many nearby mountains. The brats started climbing the stairs, singing as they did, and met Tousen on the way; unaware of her fame and courage, they took the high-and-mighty attitude with her.

"Hey, you shortie over there." "What did you say, you jerk?!"

Tousen flew into fury and beat the mischievous invaders to within an inch of their life. "Drop dead!"

That was the start of a battle between the little tanuki of Tanukidani-Fudou and the Tsuchinoko Expedition Team with the long stairs to the temple on the line. Tousen fought bravely and protected their turf.

Time passed, and Tousen descended down the long stairs counting 250 steps that she'd defended in the past in a white kimono. Leaving Tanukidani-Fudou behind after her marriage, she set out to her new home in the Tadasu forest.

What she was remembering with fondness at the time were the mischievous boys of the Tsuchinoko Expedition Team, singing at the top of their lungs as they climbed the stairs, and herself as she stood in their way. The leader of the Tsuchinoko Expedition Team that called her shortie on that day was Shimogamo Souichirou, that is, our father. Needless to say, the tomboy who responded with a 'What did you say, you jerk' was none other than our mother. Were it not for furry love in this world, not a single tuft of fur would have existed of the Shimogamo brothers.

What preceded the birth of the round, little furballs was a furry love story.

〇

In the beginning of June when the rainy season had started, I sat in a cage in Kyoto City Zoo.

Kyoto zoo was located near Heian-jingu shrine in Okazaki, and the premises surrounded by a brick wall were lively with cries of birds and wild animals. Between the cages with such dignified creatures as elephans, lions, giraffes and hippopotami, there was a cage with tanuki, too.

That said, for tanuki being put in a cage was their greatest fear. And that was because our specialty, that is, shapeshifting, had a close connection with the idea of freedom; if thrown into a cage and robbed of their freedom, tanuki wouldn't be able to shapeshift. You won't find a tanuki who would like to be confined and rendered unable to shapeshift.

For that reason, from long ago, it was customary for the role of captive tanuki in the zoo to be played in shifts by the Okazaki tanuki who were professionals at that. When they needed to go out on an incentive trip, there was no choice but for other tanuki to stand in for them, but it went without saying that this job was not popular. The reason why I had accepted it was because the pay was high.

When I signed up for it, first of all, I was given a thorough crash course by the chief of the Okazaki tanuki on the correct way to conduct myself as a proper zoo tanuki. The Okazaki tanuki took pride in the activities of enlightening ladies and gentlemen of Kyoto on the subject of what a proper tanuki was.

"What's most important is charm. However, do not butter up to anyone." The Okazaki tanuki chief narrated their philosophy. "We play tanuki with pride. That's the trick to it. You can't just spring the raw realism on your visitors. If you do that, all our efforts will be for naught. You've got to catch the moment when you become more tanuki-like than a tanuki without exposing the truth. This constitutes one of shapeshifting techniques, too."

Naturally, being locked up in a cage felt very eerie, so I spent my first day in restlessness. To a tanuki not accustomed to having your shapeshifting powers sealed, denied the very possibility to go out and play mindlessly and with someone staring at you around the clock, it was an extremely exhausting ordeal.

Worried about how I was doing in a cage all alone, my mother dropped by in the evening to see how I was faring. As was in her habit, mother assumed the form of a handsome young man, Takarazuka Revue-style, which was already conspicuous, and an emerald frog riding on her shoulder didn't help to alleviate the effect at all. Said frog crawled into my cage through a crack.

"You won't feel lonely if you're with Yajirou," mother said.

And so, from my second day on, I had the company of my second elder brother, which made me feel at lot better. When I paced to and fro in my cage with a frog on my furry head, children that gathered in front of it were flabbergasted, "A frog is driving a tanuki!"

"You sure have your finger in many pies, huh. I'm so impressed," my brother confessed. "I just have nothing better to do." "Speaking of which, have you caught tsuchinoko, in the end?" "Oh, come on, nii-san, as if I'd be idling away in a place like this if I'd caught it. I'd be busy with press conferences and celebration parties and stuff right about now."

Later that night, my brother sat motionlessly in a corner of the cage, apparently thinking about something deep and hard.

"What are you up to?" When I peered closer, I found that he was solving shogi problems.

The Tanuki Shogi tournament, sponsored by Nanzenji temple, was scheduled to take place in the middle of June, and apparently, my brother was going to participate in the preliminaries.

"A bad bush is better than the open field," my brother said. "Not many tanuki like shogi, and I would feel bad for the Nanzenji family if it ended up being an empty tournament." "What a strange event our father came up with, I gotta say."

Our father, Shimogamo Souichirou, was an ardent shogi fan. As his love for shogi grew in intensity, he collaborated with the previous head of the Nanzenji family to start the Tanuki Shogi tournament, but tanuki were reluctant to even memorize the shogi pieces, and having to sit still before the shogi board made the fur on their butts itch. Our father's wish for shogi to stick in the tanuki worlds was fruitless, and then he fell into a tanuki hot pot, so the tournament had to be discontinued for the time being. It occurred to me that our eldest brother must be very proud of himself since it was him who brought it back to life.

That reminded me of something else, and I asked, "Come to think of it, father had a shogi room, didn't he?" "Ah, yes, yes, he did. Father's secret base, a fun room, indeed." "What became of it?" "It has to be somewhere in the Tadasu forest, but I don't know where."

Hiding away in the shogi room whenever there was a break in his bustling activity as the head of the tanuki world was father's cherished relaxation time. The room in question was a four and a half tatami mat chamber, filled with a collection of old shogi boards and shogi instruction books, and sometimes he taught shogi to us siblings there.

I recalled what that nostalgic room was like.

Surrounded by massive shogi pieces, almost as big as one whole tatami mat, that I had no idea what could be used for and shogi boards of curious shape, father looked happy, sitting there cross-legs on a zabuton. The room had a large skylight. Beyond it, the blue sky, clear and high, stretched, and overhanging branches bearing ripe persimmon fruit were visible. I remembered father's unease when I said I wanted those persimmons.

Oddly enough, father always made us wear blindfolds whenever he brought us to that room.

What I remembered with clarity was the sensation of jumping off to the bottom of a hole where wind whistled.

"Our eldest doesn't know where that room is, either?" "No, apparently not," my brother replied. "It appears he'd searched the forest high and low but found no hole resembling it. Father hid it really well." And then my brother added in a murmur, "I'd like to go back there some day."

〇

An unusual guest appeared on my last day of zoo life.

On that day, it was somewhat cloudy since the morning and from time to time it rained, so the zoo was mostly deserted. The choo-choo train with a red chimney running with clangity-clang and the small Ferris wheel both looked dreary drenched in the ashen rain. On such days, no matter how great my acting performance of playing a tanuki-like tanuki was, very few people paused in front of my cage. As such, it wasn't worth it to try hard.

I was yawning, bored out of my mind, when a little girl came. Her stature was small, like a kindergartner's, and the red of her umbrella and rubber boots was vibrant. Not showing the slightest bit of interest in the choo-choo train or the Ferris wheel, she headed toward the tanuki cage in a straight line while spinning her red umbrella and stopped in front of it. She must have loved tanuki a lot. Her red umbrella pressed against the cage, she watched me pace exultantly to and fro in my cage with big eyes. Soon, though, she started giggling.

"You give a marvelous tanuki performance, Yasaburou-chan."

Startled, I stopped dead in my tracks.

My brother, sitting on my head, said, "Oh, it's you, Gyokuran. What brings you here?"

"I heard Yasaburou-chan was standing in here, so I thought I'd show my support." "Hmph. I play the role splendidly, don't I, Gyokuran-sensei?" I said, to which Gyokuran smiled wryly, "Drop the sensei title, would you."

The tanuki known as Nanzenji Gyokuran was the younger sister of the head of the Nanzenji clan, Shoujirou.

In the past, when I was one of the Akadama tanuki pupils, Gyokuran already had both wisdom and good sense and was Akadama-sensei's favorite. A few honor roll tanuki from among those who studied under sensei were tasked with helping sensei. Nanzenji Gyokuran, along with our brother Yaichirou, served as Akadama-sensei's assistant, herding and controlling the furry mischeviuos boys bustling beneath the teacher's platform like a dog at a sheep farm. That's why I called her 'Gyokuran-sensei'.

Standing in front of my cage, Gyokuran gushed about how much she looked forward to the Tanuki Shogi tournament. Apparently, she dropped by on her way back from inspecting the preliminary tournament venue with her brother Shoujirou.

"You're coming to watch, right, Yasaburou-chan?" "I'm not sure. I have no interest in shogi, you see," yawned I. "Yaichirou-san worked so hard to bring the tournament back, but you're not coming? You shouldn't say such cold things. If you come, you'll find it fun, I'm sure." "Well, it's fun for you, Gyokuran."

Gyokuran was a known shogi enthusiast even as a child.

To begin with, the Nanzenji clan were always a family of shogi fans, but Gyokuran's love for the game stood out even among the rest of them, and numerous tales such as her never stopping solving shogi problems even when she fell into the Biwako Canal, or her loving shogi so much that she would even eat shogi pieces, or her sleeping every night with a shogi board, circulated about her as if they were true. According to Gyokuran herself, all of them were nonsense, but I knew for a fact that back when she was one of Akadama-sensei's pupils she did force innocent little tanuki to play shogi, and I was among those who ran around trying to escape from her as she chased us with a shogi board in hand yelling, "It's fun! It's really fun, you'll see!" Because of her excessive love for shogi, Gyokuran was unsuitable for shogi promotion activities. The numerous legends about Gyokuran circulating in the tanuki world were spread by the annoyed tanuki kids she had chased in the past.

Suddenly, Gyokuran said, "Yaichirou-san still won't get back to playing shogi, huh?" "Our big brother doesn't play shogi," my second elder brother said in a soft voice. "And you know that better than anyone else, don't you, Gyokuran?" "For how much longer does he plan to let it bother him? Even though he's turned into a fine capable furball already." "Did you tell him that?" "I can't. ...I'm not sure why, but I just can't."

In the Tadasu forest, there was a certain shogi board left by our father, and our eldest brother cherished it as much as he did the automated rickshaw. Although that shogi board was carefully stored in a box of empress tree, its surface was marred with deep teeth impressions. Those marks were left on it by our eldest brother who turned into a tiger in a fit of anger and bit into it. When he was little, he had a bad tendency to shapeshift into a tiger whenever he got angry because of finding himself at a disavantage in shogi. The reason why he quit playing shogi was because he started deeply hating losing control of himself like that. Playing against a girl his own age, bursting into tears from frustration and then biting into the shogi board were all memories hurting his honor, no doubt.

Eventually, Gyokuran said, "See you at the shogi tournament" by way of goodbye and went back to the Nanzenji forest, hazy with the rain. As she walked, she was spinning her umbrella like a real child. Seated on my head, my brother murmured, "Were it not for furry love in this world..." "What is it, nii-san?" "...No, it's nothing." "Being a tease, huh." "Even a frog at the bottom of the well has an obligation to keep a secret."

〇

On a certain evening in the middle of June when it was getting quite late, our whole family went out, heading to Nanzenji.

The sky was concealed behind bulky clouds, and not a single star was visible, with only moist night wind blowing. My little brother Yashirou took the point, his face lighting up in pride and elation as he hoisted a paper lantern with our family crest on it, looking like the leader of a drum and fife band. Passing through the dark town with its endless line of fences surrounding big mansions, we entered Nanzenji-keidai that was crawling with Kyoto's tanuki holding paper lanterns.

The reason was simple: tonight was the day when the Tanuki Shogi tournament organized by the Nanzenji family was to be held.

Mother was impressed as she looked around. "Look at that crowd." "That's because this tournament was on a hiatus for a long time ever since father's death," our eldest brother sounded boastful. "It was worth every effort I've invested. I'm sure father would be pleased, too." "If nii-san wins today, father would be even more pleased," I said.

My second elder brother riding on my shoulder stirred. "I don't know. Don't get your hopes up too much." "Don't say such fainthearted things, Yajirou. Protect the honor of the Shimogamo family," our eldest instructed. "Hold it, hold it, nii-san, I don't play shogi for the sake of protecting our honor." "I know you're capable of giving Gyokuran a run for her money." "I don't know about that," replied our second elder. "I'm sure you can win," joined in mother. "Though winning and losing are both down to luck."

Majority of the the tanuki assembled on the premises were hopeless at shougi, unable to tell a rook from a bishop, and they only came for the chance to gamble and party. Beneath the black towering gate of Nanzenji temple surrounded by pine trees, the owner of bar 'Akegarasu' on Teramachi-doori street was consulting with his friends on the matter of betting. For betting on all and every kind of competition was their raison d'être.

I walked up and called out to him.

"Hey. I can't believe you bothered to come when you don't know squat about shogi." "Do your worst for us, Yasaburou, because we're counting on seeing some fighting outside the shogi board, too." That was a scandalous thing of him to say. "Out-of-the-ring action is your forte, yeah?"

When I was about to retort, my kid brother waved the paper lantern with our family crest.

"Yasaka-san is here!"

The Yasaka tanuki sounded their trumpets shortly in a modest fashion and set foot on the Nanzenji temple grounds. Nise-emon Yasaka Heitarou expectedly wore an aloha shirt.

Noticing us, he passed under the temple's triple gate and clapped my eldest brother on the shoulder in good humor.

"Oh, Yaichirou-kun. It makes me so happy to see tanuki shogi revived."

Since spring, Yasaka Heitarou had been steadily advancing his preparations to retire, little by little transferring his Nise-emon work to my eldest brother. Despite my brother grumbling about how he had no time to even sleep, he didn't at all look dissatisfied, swimming energetically all around Kyoto like a furry fish that had found water after making a show of downing a dodgy energy drink procured in the Shinkyougoku shopping district.

Yasaka Heitarou chatted up my second elder brother squatting on my shoulder. "I gotta say, I was surprised that you survived the preliminaries, Yajirou. I had no idea you were so good at shogi." "Father taught me well. Besides, there is hardly anything else to do at the bottom of the well." "You, too, learned all the dubious entertainments from Sou-san, eh. I'm the same. When we were little, it was tsuchinoko hunting, and when we grew up, it was shogi, sake and Hawaii. All the good-for-nothing things that earn you no squat but are most fun in the world. That said, Sou-san was always good at everything he did."

Mother snickered at that. "And you, Heitarou-san, was always so clumsy." "Okay, wait, that's quite the comment to make, you know." "Oh? Well, even if you're clumsy, being able to always have fun no matter what is an admirable quality and what really counts." "You just say whatever you want, huh. I'm no match for you," said the Nise-emon in his aloha shirt and laughed.

T/N:

[*1] Koujin-sama 荒神様: a god of fire, the hearth and the kitchen (wiki); in Kyoto, Koujin charms and talismans are often put up in the kitchen. In this particular context, however, 'Koujin-sama' is a pet nickname for Gojoin temple (same as Kiyoshikojin temple jp wiki), used by locals (jp article on it). [*2] Tousen 桃仙: this name consists of the kanji for peach (桃) and the kanji for what is known as sennin (仙) or xian in Taoism (wiki), that is, a mystical enlightened mountain sage.

[thebrochtuarachs]

I WATCHED IT AND IT WAS A DREAM COME TRUE!

I have to hold myself so much as to not jump and squee for joy in my hospital bed but I think watching this episode sped up my recovery with happy feelings.❤️ 

#TheBirdsAndTheBees (4x09) was almost all the things I could want and love in the episode. Thank God Toni and Matt stuck to the book as close as possible for this because it was heartfelt and emotional as I hoped, dreamed and expected it would be.

Here are some of my thoughts over the course of the episode: 

1.  SOPHIE SKELTON, JUST WOW. That first scene, coming back to the tavern and changing her clothes - she just broke my heart with how good she handled it. I felt the pain, dear lord, of what she just went through and ugh, just incredible acting from her. 

2. Skipped most parts with Lizzie, Ian, etc... cause I wanted to go to the good Fraser family bits. 

3. SAM HEUGHAN. WHERE ARE HIS AWARDS? I don’t care what critics see but Sam Heughan is just shining this season. I knew I imagined how this meeting would play in my mind when I read the book before the but way Sam portrayed Jamie in this moment is beyond what I imagined and he played it so perfectly well. That hesitation, that emotion, the tears in his eyes, his words, the hug, everything - it was everything I wanted for this father-daughter reunion and I could not be more happy.

4. I knew they changed and fast-forwarded the story a bit with Claire meeting them too at Wilmington but I must say that I am glad they put it out of the way immediately and reunited them as soon as possible. Also, despite the change, glad they kept that Jamie called out Claire and she saw them sitting on the bench. Hoped Jamie took down his hat so Claire saw double red-heads but I think Bree is shock enough. Love Claire’s slow pick-up of what was happening, her reaction, the basket drop, the running hug - just perfectly played by Cait as well. 

5. I AM JUST RELISHING THAT JAMIE, CLAIRE AND BREE ARE SHARING ONE FRAME OF CINEMA. THANK YOU. 

6. Jamie and Claire talking about taking a holiday in January for the next decade to avoid their impending deaths. YES PLEASE. 

7. Jamie, Claire and Bree looking over Fraser’s Ridge and Bree giving a brief history lesson. Honestly, just give me them 3 in all frames of the episode. I am just on a high. And of course, Brianna observing her mum and da’s love. I cannot! 

8. Fraser family dinner! Ahhh, Brianna just settling in. And of course, for some reason, Jamie and Claire’s PDA are on a high. Holding hands, cheek kisses, teasing!!! And Bree just going straight to asking what her father was like as a boy. No hesitation or shyness and I love it! Love that the Tabitha story has come out too! 

9. I honestly love these Claire and Bree moments too. Especially with what Bree had just gone through, she needs her mother more than ever and Claire is just happy she’s there. Love that Bree was honest with her and told her that Frank knew about her going back. Of course, Claire couldn’t hold a grudge cause Frank is dead and she’s with Jamie now but I think she also wanted to know for how long had he known or how many years she and Jamie could have spared each other sooner. Love that Bree also is seeing just how much her parents belong to one another. I just wish there will be more of those kind of scenes in the next episode. 

10. OH MY GOODNESS, THE FIRING SCENE. Jamie was so proud of his “almost” shot and Bree just shots him down with a bullseye. Love that she’s impressing him so much and he’s just one proud da. But then we get that awkward, “my father, Frank” moment but that was inevitable. 

11. When Claire suggested they go up in the mountains, I was so very excited because I knew this is where the “voyeur” scene comes up - but alas, that’s not how it went. Rather, Jamie was able to observe his daughter in her sleep (and I must say, Sophie looked rather beautiful, great lighting on that!). I was a tad disappointed we didn’t get to see that “early morning” scene but considering that she saw much of her parent’s PDA over the next few days on the Ridge that it was established by that. STILL, I wish we could see one OBVIOUS moment where Bree sees her parents without them knowing she was observing them. Hopefully, that is possible in the coming episodes. 

12. I JUST LOVE LOVE LOVE SEEING JAMIE AND BREE TOGETHER. IT’S AN ABSOLUTE DREAM AND I AM JUST SO APPRECIATIVE OF IT. I love how Jamie handled Bree being torn in her loyalties between him and Frank and I love how he isn’t shy about sharing his feelings and love for his daughter. “I had to give you to him...but I am not sorry you came back to me” - this line is just a perfect balance of him telling her that it was for her safety and not just because he wanted to give her away. And Bree finally, accepting Jamie in that position in her life, just melts my heart. Jamie pulling Bree closer and then asking permission to call her “Bree” and then we get the “You can call me Da” moment and I just died inside. 

13. Claire waiting for them to come home...ah, swoon. Also, the music in that scene, just adds to the reverence of the moment. Them, just 3, at the dining table, eating honey, and Claire looking around and so happy. I just imagined the “Both, thank God, mine” scene when it was playing but we might get or see that in the next episode considering what will happen next. But I just love this scene of them just three bonding and creating this new family unit for them. Its all I wanted for this characters. 

14. God, I love that Claire wakes up every time she doesn’t feel Jamie around in her bed. Seriously, these two are married for life and my heart just loves it. It’s really amazing how their love lasts. Love that she sensed that something was bothering him and I just love how they are so honest with each other about everything. “She called me Da” - Da!Jamie making an appearance is love. Ah, he is just so in awe and so proud and so in love with his daughter and family.  Love the shoulder lean, love the caress,, love the kiss just...I miss Jamie and Claire and I love seeing them an extended time on the screen. Also, Sam’s skin in this scene was so flawless and red and I love it! He looked so young. My goodness. 

15. The “read my mind/confessions” scene. Ahhh, I love that they sticked close to the book for this scene as well. The relief in Bree when she can finally tell her mother that she’s pregnant. And then we get to the harder part of Bree telling her mother that she was raped - damn, Sophie and Cait played it perfectly well too. Claire’s reaction - the hopelessness that she can’t do anything to reverse her daughter’s situation - is just heartbreaking. And Bree clinging on to her mother for dear life, a relief and a burden off her shoulders that her secret is finally out after two months of holding it in. A little bit sad that they didn’t include the part where Bree asks what Jamie’s reaction might be but I guess she’s still too shocked to wander over that question. 

16. Wasn’t expecting the Jamie and Claire discussion by the fire but I guess, I loved it in a sense that 1.) Claire knew she couldn’t handle the burden of the knowledge alone and 2.) if there were any 2 people in the world who understood what Bree went through, it’s her parents - both of them. I guess I loved this too because we see Jamie react in the same hopelessness (at first) as Claire did earlier with Bree and we see the heartbreak too. It adds a bit to the decision that she should go back to her time because it isn’t safe for her in theirs. Them, they could handle it, but they couldn’t put Bree in the same situation when she has a chance to live a better life elsewhere. 

17. Oh, LIzzie - here comes the major misunderstanding in the plot! Hahaha! I spoiled my sister at the consequences of what Lizzie has done and she’s like “Oh, Lizzie” the entire scene where she was telling Jamie that she was sure that Roger was the one who hurt Brianna. 

18. Oh my goodness, Claire finding her ring and the realisation that Stephen Bonnet is once again, back in their lives in some way. And then Bree gives away more truths that just breaks their hearts even more. And when Bree says he can’t let Jamie find out because he will find Bonnet and she can’t let him do it because it will take him away from her mother and them and it will put him in danger. And, she made her mother to promise not to tell Jamie (or anyone) - But Claire saying “no” before that is because she doesn’t keep secrets from Jamie. I wonder how this secret will play out in future episodes. How Claire and Jamie going to navigate being parents. Interesting. 

19. Wow, Jamie beating the crap out of Roger. He just punches and punches and punches until Roger passes out.  I don’t think I’ve seen Jamie hit something or beat something so hard before and it’s Da!Jamie in action for it! 

Overall, was it the dream father-daughter meeting I’ve been hoping for - yes! Did I miss some few other moments - yes! Do I want more in the Fraser Family moments in the future - absolutely yes! Did I love the episode - yes!

Just yes to all and this episode is as memorable as my faves in this series. I’m pretty sure I’m going to re-watch this episode over and over and over. Thank God they did it right and I am so happy we got this at the end of 2018. 

[bastionbabble]

Two Cups of Tea (Zia, Zulf, 2856 words, worksafe)

Two cups of tea, Zulf explains, is an Ura children’s game. It is a game of two people, one of whom is sad, and the other of whom must make the first laugh. The first person must drink two cups of tea without laughing; if they laugh, they’re not allowed to be sad anymore. If they don’t laugh, they can be sad as long as they want.

(ao3 link)

for @janglingargot for the sgg secret santa event. thank you for your patience and please enjoy.

Zia has always been the strongest of them all. She knew loneliness like she knew her own body, like she knew the tracks of her veins down her arms, and from that knowledge she built herself a tower of self-love and fiery will that no man was strong enough to break down. When everyone buckled under the weight of loss and the flaming wreckage of the world, Zia stood still, stood proud, stood strong, stood sturdy enough for all of them to lean on her without her ever faltering. Her heart beat in time with the Bastion’s and deep within them was the same burning Core, that brightness that kept them going, kept them holding up themselves and everyone else. And how hot that Core burned, how brilliant, but even with all her strength, it could not burn forever. Zia has always been the strongest of them all, but every well must run dry eventually.

Zia has not left her tent in three days. The Kid has come, Rucks has come, but she’s sent them away. Zulf comes but won’t let her send him away. Weak in body but strong in mind, Zulf is not one to be deterred.  He has a tarnished metal teapot with tarnished metal teacups, the only things sturdy enough to survive what the Calamity wrought, and says, ‘We’ll play two cups of tea.’

Two cups of tea, Zulf explains, is an Ura children’s game. It is a game of two people, one of whom is sad, and the other of whom must make the first laugh. The first person must drink two cups of tea without laughing; if they laugh, they’re not allowed to be sad anymore. If they don’t laugh, they can be sad as long as they want. ‘How does that sound?’ he asks.

‘Stupid,’ Zia grumbles.

‘Great,’ says Zulf, and he begins to prepare the tea.

Zia is curled up in her bedroll and she pulls her blankets over her head. She has created herself a cocoon of warmth and safety, a pleasing mix of pressure and darkness. It is like the time before being born, back when everything was quiet and simple. No thinking, just existing, just being. Wouldn’t it be nice to go back to then. But things are never as simple as that. No one is ever that lucky. One’s only choice is to live.

‘The tea is done,’ Zulf says. Zia stays under the covers. Zulf pulls the blanket off her head and says, ‘I said, the tea is done.’

With a grumble, Zia pushes herself up into a sitting position. ‘I don’t want your tea,’ she says, but still takes a cup when Zulf offers it to her. It’s always been hard to say no to Zulf. She hesitates, watching Zulf, waiting for something to happen.

‘You have to drink your tea if you want to start the game.’

Zia doesn't want to start the game, but she drinks her tea anyway. It's aged and earthy and tastes overwhelmingly like tree bark and dried moss. Zia likes floral teas, ones that taste like spring rain and dewy meadows and flowers that prickle when bloomed. But Zulf favors his flavors to be rounder, a mouth feel that starts at the bottom. If he wants to drink tea that tastes like the underside of a snail, that doesn't mean he has to make Zia do it too. Zia takes a sip of the, grimaces, and looks to Zulf to await his next move.

Zulf watches Zia as she drinks her tea, his eyes bright and shining. There’s a minute of silence, of Zia forcing down her tea, of Zulf watching and waiting and preparing his mind to pounce. ‘I'm going to tell you a story,’ he starts, ‘and you have to promise to not tell the others. Do you agree?’

Zia stops slurping her tea long enough to nod. Getting stories from Zulf was a difficult task; he was particular about the image he put out, especially since the others were prone to teasing, and Zulf shaped his appearance to that of a refined gentleman, suave and smooth and charming. He’s always the diplomat, even if there’s no one with which to be a diplomat. Sometimes he plays himself the fool, but the stories of hijinks and tomfoolery were rare. All knew Zulf had a questionable past, but no one had the knowledge to its extent. If Zulf requires this story to be secret, it must be something really good.

‘When I was young, I had a… difficult relationship with the missionary. He didn't find me until I was 13, and I was raised on the streets. I was, one might say, very uncouth. He wanted me to be a man of the Gods, one who worshipped and revered them. I had no desire for such; I wanted to run around with my friends and be, well… a hooligan, I suppose one could say. And I was a little hooligan. I was 15 and I had a boyfriend of whom my father didn’t approve and we got into all sorts of trouble. Most of the time, it was smoking cigarettes and petty vandalism. We painted some very crude things on the sides of buildings.’

‘Like what?’ Zia asks, already growing giddy from the secret knowledge Zulf is imparting upon her.

‘Nothing that needs to be repeated,’ Zulf huffs, and clears his throat. ‘Go back to drinking your tea, I'm not finished yet.’

Zia returns to sipping the bitter liquid, and Zulf starts again. ‘As I was saying. We got into trouble a lot and my father was losing patience. He was a kind man, and he never yelled, but his frustration grew. And I was not used to having someone instruct me, so I often acted out. I said a lot of foolish things to him. One time, it became very bad. He had just picked me up after my third arrest--’

Zia sputters and nearly drops her teacup. ‘Your third arrest?!’

Zulf's cheeks bloom like roses. ‘I was a troubled youth,’ he mumbles. ‘But that's not the important part. Let me finish. We were in the den, and he was telling me I couldn't act like that anymore, that I had to be a gentleman and well-behaved. Well, I became so angry I called him a…’

Zulf turns his face away and mumbles the secret into his sleeve. ‘What? What'd you call him?’ Zia asks, breathless and silly with excitement, frustrated for the story’s climax.

Zulf sighs, makes the sign of Mother over his chest, and says, ‘I called him… I called him a Motherfucker.’

Zia gasps and drops her teacup. The bark-brown liquid seeps into her blanket, but she gives it no attention. To think of pious Zulf, who prays three times a day and never says anything worse than ‘damn’, who lines his clothing with proverbs, who sings his sorrows with the words of gods, to think of him blaspheming so deeply and darkly, is… is…

It’s hilarious, is what it is. It's so absurd it turns around to humor and Zia takes deep, measured breaths to keep her face as still as slate. Zulf did not look at Zia during his shameful confession but he now turns his gaze towards her, and frowns at her unamused look.

‘Not even a smile?’ he asks, and his lips sprout into a small one to encourage her. Zia remains unmoved, and Zulf shakes his head.

‘This isn't over,’ he says. ‘You still have one cup of tea left. But I have to--I have to pray. We'll do this later.’

Zulf leaves in a flurry of swishing robes and repenting fingers and Zia waits for one, two, three long breaths before she erupts in a fit of giggles light as wings. His story has momentarily lifted her despair like birdsongs, but it's not enough to relight her flame. Still, it's one worth remembering, and she's curious to are what the second story brings.

Zulf comes by the next day. Zia doesn't need his words to know to he spent the night singing his repentance. Again he has teacups and a teapot and more earthy, smoke-tinged tea. He goes about preparing the tea and he says, ‘I know you laughed after I was gone.’

Zia does a very good job of not smiling. ‘I have no idea what you're talking about,’ she says, and swallows the bubbles of laughter that rise up and dance in her throat.

‘That's cheating, but I'll allow it. We still have one more cup of tea, after all.’ Zulf pours her a cup of tea, eyes yesterday's tea stain on her blanket, turns his lips into a gentle curve at her. Zia remains ever impassive. ‘Fine, be that way. But I'll make you laugh with this next story. But. You can never tell Kid I told you this, do you understand?’

Zia nods and hides the shine of excitement in her eyes. She had considered telling the Kid about Zulf's previous story, if only because she knew how much he would appreciate Zulf's blasphemous curse. But Zia promised her silence, and the Kid couldn't hide a secret no matter how hard he tried. It will be difficult to keep the Kid's secret from himself, but it's worth it to learn it. Zia blinks back her excitement and says, ‘I understand.’

Zulf watches her, gauges her sincerity, then says, ‘Very well. This happened very long ago, before you came to the Bastion. It was shortly after the Kid brought me to her. I was… I wasn't doing so well. I was pretty despondent, and I responded to little. I barely ate. All I really did was sleep. All I thought about was everything I lost, everything I loved. All I thought about was her.’

The words climb up Zulf's throat and stick, expand, choke off anything more. A tear trickles down the side of his face and he takes deep, even breaths to halt more from coming. Taking his hand, Zia lifts it to her waiting lips and kisses it. ‘This doesn't seem like a very funny story,’ she says, her voice soft as footsteps and twice as gentle.

A moment of quiet stillness passes between them, the tension building in Zulf's bones fades,  and he says, ‘No, no, it is. I just became lost in what doesn't matter.’ Zulf takes his hand back and kisses Zia on the forehead. ‘Let me start again.’

With a deep breath, Zulf begins anew. ‘So, it was a long time ago, and I was very sad. The Kid, Gods bless his stupid heart, wanted to make me feel better. He suggested a drinking contest; he said that alcohol would make everything better, and that the best way to drink would be a drinking contest. And I… Gods only know why, but I agreed. I suppose I was so low, I felt like I couldn't get any lower. We had quite a few bottles of Bastion Bourbon, too, so the Kid said we should use those. And bourbon is… quite strong. That was the first time I ever had bourbon, actually. I've never been one for drinking. The Kid, on the other hand, is quite used to it. As you've seen, I'm sure.

‘But, I'm getting distracted. We had Bastion Bourbon and shot glasses and the Kid and I set to drinking. He did a few shots first, as a way to even the playing field. It’s obvious his tolerance is much higher than mine. Then we did shots together, but after the third I was feeling quite woozy. I knew I would get sick if I had anymore. But the Kid wanted to keep going, and I didn’t want to lose, so I…’

Zulf trails off and his mouth twists into a grin both pleased and a little guilty. ‘What?’ Zia asks. ‘What did you do?’

Her tea has been abandoned as her attention has been drawn into the story. The murky liquid has grown bitter like unripe seaberries and every sip blooms a grimace across her features. But the tea doesn't matter anymore; any story involving the Kid and being drunk is bound to be a good one. Zulf keeps his next words hidden beneath his tongue and Zia shakes his arm until he finally speaks.

‘Well… I decided to fake drinking. Instead of doing a shot, I would throw it over my shoulder. Gods know how he didn't notice; I suppose he was more invested in his own drinking to pay it any mind. Regardless, this went on for quite a while. I don't think he realized how drunk he was, otherwise I think he would've stopped before he did. He certainly told me some things that I doubt he would have told me normally.’

‘Like what?’ Zia asks, eyes growing bright and vibrant with curiosity. The Kid was quiet, reticent, and getting personal information out of him was harder than herding squirts. Everything she knew of him was slowly pulled from the locked box in his heart over the years they've lived on the Bastion. Nothing came easy from him. But if Zulf got things out of him while he was drunk, maybe she should try getting him drunk, too.

‘Nothing that needs to be repeated,’ Zulf tsks. ‘It’s not appropriate for you. Still, I'm not done with this story. So, he was very, very drunk, and I had mostly sobered up. I was worried about the Kid becoming dehydrated, or more dehydrated, anyway, and went to retrieve water for him. I was only gone for a few minutes, but when I returned, he was… was…’

Zulf begins to giggle, high pitched as a pecker's song. He takes a deep, measured breath, but that does little to help. With laughter bubbling in his throat, Zulf says, ‘He was completely naked except for his boxers on his head, and waved his Pike while declaring himself king of the Bastion.’

For her credit, Zia lasts a good ten seconds without making a noise. Then she snorts, then she giggles, and finally she explodes in a shower of laughter. Once again she drops her teacup and she throws herself back on her blankets and slaps the ground as her laughter sings in her tent, out of her tent, into the brilliant blue skies outside. Tears roll down her cheeks and it takes several minutes for her to calm herself. As her breathing evens out, she looks to Zulf, who is grinning like the Anklegator that caught the Pecker. ‘I guess you won,’ Zia says, still grasping for breath.

‘I suppose I did,’he purrs, and hides his smile with his sleeve as not to gloat. ‘So, now you can't be sad anymore. How does that sound?’

‘I don't think it's that easy.’

‘No,’ Zulf says, ‘it's not. Feel this moment of freedom, savor it. Some days, it's difficult to go on. But you can tell me what's wrong. Let me help you.’

Zia closes her eyes, measures out her sadness into drops, unfurls the words hidden in her teeth. ‘…I miss my father. I never knew him. He was gone so much. He was less like a father and more like a stranger. But… he still was my father. Sometimes I think about, what if he had escaped too, and we met on the Bastion, and we were finally a real family, and--’

Zia's words die off like everyone in the Calamity died off. She presses her hands to her eyes and weeps, a low, mournful howl. Zulf strokes her hair like her father never did. Tear after tear falls from her eyes, and it's not until she's as dried out as ocean brine do her tears cease. As Zulf continues to pet her hair, she asks, ‘Does it ever get better? Does it ever go away?’

‘No,’ Zulf says, and leans down to kiss her on the forehead. ‘But it gets easier. I still miss my own father terribly. Some days, I still cry over him. But grief is like a tide; it comes in and goes out. It goes away, but it always come back. But it gets easier over time. It grows manageable. You are stronger than everyone else here combined; I know you can survive.’

With a sigh like winter winds, Zia uncovers her eyes. ‘So I guess I don't have a choice, huh? I just have to keep going.’

Zulf pats her head with a smile. ‘Exactly. Now, you go take a bath and get clean. I'll take care of the mess here.’

His tone is only slightly chiding. Zia mirrors his smile and sits up. ‘Yeah, yeah, I will.’ She pauses a moment, then kisses his cheek. ‘Thank you for this. It really helped.’

‘Of course,’ Zulf responds. ‘I'll always be here for you. Remember that.’

Getting up, Zia grabs a towel and a clean set of clothes, then says, ‘Oh, and Zulf? Next time you're sad, I'm doing this to you.’

She leaves and Zulf laughs to himself. It's always good to see her in better spirits.