#At a court ball to celebrate the high lord of nights marriage

[somnas-writes]

Sharing my writing on this website feels weird but

Imagine an Azriel that doesn’t exist. He’s a ghost in the eyes of the world, he isn’t known publicly, by the courts or even by his closest friends.

His job is the night courts spy, his job is to be sneaky and unknown, so why would he be a public figure? Why would there be records of his existence?

There are rumors about a male made of shadow, it’s a horror story maids tell the children of lords, so they behave. It’s an urban legend among the higher fae, the night courts monster that has no problem going undetected through your wards.

The high lords have a suspicion that a shadow spymaster exists, but they’ve never seen him nor do they have any proof.

Azriel who makes appearances as often as the planets align, whose existence is only confirmed to the Inner Circle of the night court. Even then, they rarely meet face to face, only relying messages through letters and notes.

An azriel who doesn’t exist, but desperately wants to.

[darknight3904]

𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝕽𝖆𝖈𝖊

ᴀᴇᴍᴏɴᴅ ᴛᴀʀɢᴀʀʏᴇɴ x ꜰᴇᴍ!ᴏᴄ! ᴛᴀʀɢᴀʀʏᴇɴ

ᴘʀᴇᴠɪᴏᴜꜱ ᴘᴀʀᴛ / ꜱᴇʀɪᴇꜱ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ /ᴍʏ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ

Rhaella is now 15, Aemond 14. Also, I've aged Benjicot Blackwood up he is now 16 in this fic.

130 AC

"I do not see why I must dress like this." Rhaella sighs, pulling at her dress, the corset is suffocating her.

"You are nearing the age to be wed. It is important you look your best." Edric says, "Stop fussing"

"I feel like I am being squeezed to death!" She whines as he hooks his arm with hers.

"It is only for the evening. Then, you will be able to wear your normal gowns." Edric says

"You speak so confidently, it is obvious you have never worn something like this." Rhaella groans

Maester Edric chuckles and gestures to his robe and chain.

"Forgive me, I'm not wearing a corset under all this. Although you never know."

Rhaella lets out an unlady like snort as they walk towards the throne room. King Viserys was hosting a ball, he had said it was just to celebrate his own rule, The queen had told her what it truly was. A way to meet suitors, after all she'd need to create an heir for Runestone. Rhaella hated the idea of marriage. She didn't want to leave the Red Keep and take her castle. Why couldn't Gerold rule for her? She wanted to stay here in the Capital with Aemond, swimming and reading until they fell over from exhaustion.

The ball is as grand as anyone could imagine. Lively music played as guests approached the high table to greet their king and his family. Viserys made a point to show Rhaella every eligible man who presented himself to her. Most of them were boring, all complimenting her beauty or here dress, one of them surprised her and had spoken a greeting in High Valyrian. Of course, he couldn't speak anything other than that greeting and she was left disappointed again.

"You remind me of Rhaenrya as a girl. Always quick to dismiss suitors without a second thought." Viserys says as some golden haired Lannister leaves them.

"Well they're all, twats." Rhaella says

"They are of the great houses of Westeros." Viserys says with a chuckle, "Some of them truly are twats though. Especially that last fellow."

Rhaella looks at Aemond who sits near his mother, Heleana on his left and Daeron on his right. If Aegon hadn't been present, Rhaella was sure he'd be the most bored at the table.

"Are there many more?" She whsipered, leaning towards Edric.

"A few, My Lady." He says sympathetically, "Perhaps you might dance with one, the night will go quicker."

"So they ask me boring questions? I'd rather let Sōna eat me." She laughed

"That might be less painful than a dance with some of them. I believe the Baratheon boy is drunker than even Aegon himself tonight." Edric says looking over at a very drunken first cousin of Lord Baratheon . The Lord of Storms End is trying to rouse his relative who is down for the night. At least Aegon's eyes were still open.

"My King." A voice greets, "My Lady."

"Lord Blackwood." Viserys greets

Rhaella turns her head, expecting another old man, or perhaps even an ugly young child who'd rather be playing with toys than greet the King. Instead, she was met with a tall and slim young man, short black hair sat atop his head, messy with curls.

"Lady Rhaella, I heard you claimed Sōna. I have heard tales that she is a marvelous beast, white as the winter snows from Winterfell." Lord Blackwood says

"She is magnificent, My Lord. Truly a marvel to see." Rhaella smiles, its the first compliment she's received all night that's not about her hair or beauty.

"If you ever have a chance, perhaps you can visit Raventree Hall. I'm sure she'd enjoy Blackwood cows as a treat. I'd love to see Dragonfire with my own eyes." He says

"Yes, that would be nice." Rhaella smiles

What an odd man, suggesting she visit his home to feed her dragon cattle. It was surely a different attempt at courting.

"Benjicot Blackwood, he's the young Lord of Raventree. A good match but his feud with the Brackens would drive any sane person mad." Edric says to her as Lord Blackwood goes back to his table.

"He is the only man close to my age in this hall tonight, and the only one who made interesting conversation." Rhaella points out looking at the room filled with older men and children alike.

"He suggested killing cows with your dragon as a form of entertainment." Edric says, looking Rhaella with questions in his eyes.

"It is better than talking of golden lions with the Lannisters." Rhaella says

"You are correct, my Lady." Edric smiles

Aemond could not believe what was happening in front of him. Rhaella, who had been dismissing suitors all night long with rude look or a comment was dancing with one of them. Benjicot Blackwood was twirling her around the floor like they were already wed and getting ready to celebrate for the next three moons.

"You are turning as green as mother's dress, Aemond." Aegon teases

"Ignore him." Heleana advises looking over at Aegon who shoves a bite of food into his mouth.

Rhaella's red and gold gown glitters under the lights of the many candles that light the room. Her silver hair is tied back, showing off how her face has sharpened over the years, baby fat falling away to give way to piercing Valyrian features. Aemond can feel his eye twitching with anger. Truly there was no reason for his current mood, there was no reason to be jealous over a single dance. Perhaps she was just being polite to Lord Blackwood.

It is when she tosses her head back to laugh at something he has said that Aemond cannot take it anymore.

"Mother, I want to leave. Am I dismissed?" He says, looking at his mother.

Queen Alicent lets out a sigh and gives him a nod.

"Straight to your chamber. I don't want you out with Vhagar now." She gives him a look

"Fine." Aemond conceeds, how did she know he was going to try to go for a nightime flight? A mother's intuition perhaps.

Rhaella laughs again as he's leaving. She leans in to whisper something to that idiot Benjicot as his hands are resting on her waist.

How disgusting.

Aemond hopes they both trip and fall face first into the pie that's being served to the guests. Maybe that would teach that barbaric Blackwood a lesson.

Rhaella finds Aemond the next day scowling in his chambers rather than in the training yard with Criston Cole.

"Are you sick?" She asks when she sits at the end of his bed

"I'm fine." Aemond grumbles

"Then why are you not training? Or at least meeting me in the Library like we usually do?" She questions

"I'm tired. Go away." Aemond groans, pulling his blankets over his head.

He had always been one for dramatics.

"You are acting like a spoiled child. What is wrong? Tell me." Rhaella commands, grabbing the covers and ripping them off him.

Aemond lets out a shout of dissaproval when he's exposed to the sunlight hits his eye.

"You haven't even dressed yet?" Rhaella asks looking at his night clothes "It is past noon!"

Rhaella's eyes are caught on Aemond's eye which is not covered by his eye patch. The sapphire that she had heard whispers about in the Keep was mesmerizing. He hadn't let her see his wound since he lost the eye.

"Don't you have somehwhere to be? A dance with Lord Benjicot Blackwood perhaps?" Aemond asked

Was that what all this was about? Surely Aemond wasn't jealous?

"Lord Blackwood is preparing to return to his home today. I do plan to see him off, but not if you are lying here, like some...self pitying...fool." She says

"I'm not a fool." Aemond says

"Then why are you acting like one?" She asks

Aemond suddenly sits up, Sapphire eye catching the bring sunlight that streams into his chamber. He's staring right at her and Rhaella suddenly feels nervous under his gaze.

"You can say goodbye to him, only if you promise to fly on Vhagar with me." He says

"What do you plan to do if I say no? Lock me up?" Rhaella rolls her eyes

"If I have to." Aemond jests

"I'd scream." Rhaella agues

"I'd gag you." Aemond declares

Rhaella huffs a sigh of frustation, Aemond was a wearisome individual today.

"Fine. One flight. But you're not allowed to let me fall off her." She agrees

Truthfully the idea of flying on Vhagar had always terrified her. That large of a beast taking to the sky was mortifying to her.

"Maybe I'll push you off." Aemond says, tone serious.

Rhaella shoots him a look, letting him know his joke has not been well received.

"Maybe I'll push you off and claim her for myself." Rhaella says

"I'd like to see you try." Aemond smirks

Next part

Guys I almost forgot Daeron was like...a thing so I had to mention his existence. Anyway, I love Bloody Ben so I had to give him a little cameo. Also when was HBO going to tell me that he's 12 during the dance? He is a whole child. Anyway, I've aged him up quite a bit here so its not as weird.

Also, whoever made this, they genuinely had me laughing on Pinterest...

Poor kid Aemond...

Comment below to join the taglist. (The taglist is not by chapter, once added, you will remain there unless you ask to be removed.)

Taglist:

@caspianobsessed

@starryhiraeth

@franzelt

@holymusicalmothman

@koobratzy

@schelfinser

@mizuki80

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[roznnreads]

Chosen not Fated Chapter 3

Eris x Fem!Reader

Tags: marriage of convenience, rhysand slander, depression, suicidal ideation, slow burn

Summary: Tired of a life in the shadow among the inner circle, Rhysand’s younger sister decides to take her life into her own hands and makes a desperate grab for power.

Chapter Summary: A Ball for Feyre's birthday, where the two leads dance around what they want

a/n: This was the chapter I thought up first and built the story around it

last part, next part

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When I entered the room I knew that my apprehension towards tonight was wrong. Not that I was looking forward to the pleasantries given to other gentry of the court, But Eris Vanserra was in attendance. 

The Hall falls silent as the High Lord and High Lady rise from their thrones. All eyes were on the dias, on the Lord and Lady of the Court, no one was looking at Nesta, Elain, Cassian or Me, despite standing next to them. Well further behind them, the thrones were situated near the front of the dias, and we were standing near the back, Me and Elain on one side and Nesta and Cassian on the other. 

“Thank you all for coming, the efforts put into tonight have not been for nothing, drink, dance, celebrate, all in honor of my darling wife Feyre” Rhys spoke to the room, his power radiating from his voice, and with a nod to the musicians the music began, couple pairing off to begin the first dance of a long evening, The High Lord and Lady walk of the dias to the middle of the dance floor along with Nesta and Cassian, Elain heads to the banquet table to grab a glass of wine and wait for a partner to whisk her away to the dance floor, Azriel never made an official appearance but instead was slinking around the room searching for anything of note to the High Lord. 

I remain at the dias surveying the room, making sure everything is going well. Although it is Feyre’s party, I feel like it is also mine, not in my honor, but I’ve put hours into this and I need it to go well. A flash of auburn hair catches my eye, no, it is too early to meet him tonight. I need him to want, to need, to need to take me away. I can only hope that tonight will end well for me. 

The Ball passes by quickly, fast dances warp to slow dances and back again. Once I was sure that the ball wasn’t going to fall into a tragedy, I move from the dias, nodding to the Feyre who had made her way to sit on her throne. I lean against a wall, on the edge of the dance floor, grabbing a glass of wine from a servant’s tray. I search the crowd for Eris, he is still in attendance, good, I look at the side of his face, his jawline is as sharp as his smile. He’s laughing with someone, I wonder what his laugh sounds like. It is curt and short, loud and hearty, polite and reserved. I long to know what it sounds like.

“May I do you the honor of this dance my lady” said Eris startling me, his hand open in suggestion. I was lost in thought, the words catching me off guard, I hadn't even noticed Eris walk toward me, I’m losing my touch. Plastering a smile on my face. 

“Why, of course”, I take his outstretched hand, letting him lead me into the middle of the dance floor, We take our places, 3 paces away from each other, Eris bows and I curtsy, the music begins, it is a slow romantic melody,

“Eris, did you pick the dance on purpose?”, I say, leaning into him as I am held in his arms,

“Now how would I have control over the music, didn’t you plan this whole night. You did splendidly my dear” he says, I blush at his compliment, Cauldron this is embarrassing, one compliment and I am blushing like a teenager again. It has been a while since someone has complimented my efforts, it's probably just that, I refuse to think too deeply into this. 

I am spun out then back into his chest, my back to his front, now that I am not looking at Eris I can see Azriel, he is standing arms crossed and glaring at us. I am spun, my hand held in the air by Eris, until I am standing across from him again. His eyes look at me filled with lust. His hands are warm, even in the Night Court at true night, his body is radiating warmth, I feel the need to lean into him, to chase the warmth, to catch it and never let it go. 

I am forced to pull away from him as the song dictates, dancing in a circle with another partner, I don’t know who I am now dancing with, they don’t matter. The few seconds seem like an hour until I am back in his arms

“Have I told you how hideous you look in black” said Eris

“I’ve worn black for the past few centuries, why comment now, is my dress that reprehensible” I say

“Oh, no, I oft think you would suit the colors of Autumn” pondered Eris

“How bold lordling, is that a proposition?” I say glancing at his lips not trying to hide it.

Eris’s face moves towards me, for a moment I think he is going to kiss me, but he moves to my ear

“Follow me, my lady” said Eris, his words low in such a tone where I knew I could never say no. 

He leads me off the dance floor, moving us onto an adjacent balcony, the cool breeze hits me playing with the bottom dress. Eris pushes me against the wall we are out of sight of the party but all seduction leaves his eyes as he says

“You can drop the act, your making a fool of yourself”

[needleandhammer]

Fruition

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x Female!Reader

Word Count: 6216

Summary: You're the Governor's daughter and you've caught the eye of Boston's most eligible bachelor.

Warnings: Explicit sexual content. Unprotected sex. P in v. Reader's first time having sex. Cunnilingus. Dub con. Possessive!Ransom. Sort of Dark!Ransom. Historically inaccurate. Slight breeding kink. 18+ only!

A/N: Period au. I kept the time period and nobility ranking real vague because I'm not about to research and actually world-build a mashed 19th century American colonies and Victorian period au :D It's not quite as dark!Ransom as I had intended, mostly soft. Inspired by Bridgerton, yes. And the amazing debauchery of @stargazingfangirl18 for their Soft Dark 5k challenge. Congrats and thank you for such amazing stories!

Yet another season of balls, picnics, and courtship.

“Have you heard the news? The young Drysdale is to be named heir to the Thrombey estates.”

“That makes him heir to both Thrombey and Drysdale legacies.”

“Do you think he’s in search of a wife?”

“It’s Drysdale we’re talking about. The only thing he’s in search of is someone to warm his bed for one night.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. All that inheritance must require a wife to keep in order.”

“I wouldn’t mind warming his bed even for one night.”

“Shh! That’s scandalous!”

You heard your name and looked up to see your friend Vincenza approach. “Have you heard? Drysdale is to be—“

“Must I endure an entire evening of talk about that boorish man?”

She giggled at your complaint. “But it’s the talk of the city. Lord Thrombey has replaced his own son with his grandson as heir. And…” She glanced around, leaning close to you to whisper. “I heard that the transfer of inheritance was all due to Drysdale’s uncle’s inability to produce a child.”

Your brow folded, unsure whether such a decision was fair. “Well it’s not our business, Vinnie.”

“But that’s the thing!” Her whisper grew breathless with excitement. “It’s all of our business. Well, those of us not determined to narrow our marriage choices in the name of love.” She shook her head at you with good nature. “If Drysdale is to produce an heir, he needs a wife! It’s certain that all the available ladies of Boston will be trying to earn his favor.”

You sighed as Vinnie hooked her arm around your elbow, both of you weaving slowly through the ballroom.

It wasn’t like you weren’t used to this, hearing gossip about the infamous Drysdale son, the eldest grandson to the retired Lord Thrombey. How such a noble scholar could be related to the notorious heartbreaker sometimes stretched your comprehension. And even more ridiculous, autumn found you as Drysdale’s target for humiliation. You knew such a flirt had no intentions of settling down, yet, he had endeavored to make sure he danced with you at every ball thus far this season, and even called on you at your city townhome. You were quick to inform him that you were uninterested, yet he seemed unbothered. In fact, upon your firm rejection, Drysdale seemed to make it his goal to visit your brother as often as possible - as the two were college pals - ensuring you encountered him several times a week. Drysdale was not outright courting you, but he made his attentions evident to you. Most frustrating of all, he seemed to have a knack for cornering you under the guise of innocently keeping his friend’s sister company. It irked you that your family could not see what you saw.

You caught sight of your brother waving at you, so you led Vinnie in his direction.

Perhaps Vinnie was correct and you were closing doors that were better left open in the opulent realm of nobility courtship. Your chances of marrying for love were slim, but that didn’t mean you could not at least try to maneuver your way closer to those slim chances. Even in Boston’s ruthless high society of meddling mothers, envious debutantes, and arrogant “gentlemen.” But you were the Governor’s first-born daughter – beauty praised by all, poised and sharp, and most accomplished at a number of activities thanks to the Governor and your mother encouraging a diverse array of talents since you were young. Theirs was a happy and long marriage resulting in five children, and supported by a successful political career that you were proud to celebrate. You had no doubt that no matter the pressures of society, your parents would support you if you opposed an incompatible proposal in your search for the right person.

As long as you navigated the nobility’s courtship rituals with the wits you inherited from your own mother, there should be no reason you should lose the romantic interests of countless eligible bachelors, or heaven forbid, fall upon a scandal that may prevent a proposal of love.

Well, there was one reason you might end the season in scandal, by way of delivering a swift knee to the vulnerable private area of one particularly irritating gentleman in full public view of hundreds of good folk who have gathered to enjoy the Senator’s autumn ball. Alas, you were not going to bring that kind of shame to your parents.

The particular reason, the gentleman who irritated you so, was currently greeting your elder brother quietly, whilst his penetrating gaze remained on you. Determined not to be ruffled by his attention, you kept your shoulders back and chin high, sweeping your eyes through the crowd and dancers.

Your attention returned to your group of family and friends when your hand was captured. By him. Hugh Ransom Drysdale Thrombey.

“My, don’t you look breath-taking. It is my pleasure to get to see you tonight, Miss Y/L/N.” Drysdale’s eyes flowed down your form, and much to your chagrin, his smirk widened. No doubt the warm flush on your bare collar would be apparent to him.

You couldn’t help yourself, with those glowing azure eyes of his so clearly admiring your figure. The man was completely inappropriate.

“Yes, it surely is.” You offered a pursed barely-there smile and tugged your hand. He tightened his grip upon your fingers, raising them to meet his lips. You cursed yourself for choosing the delicate lace gloves this evening, as you felt his warm breath feather through the lace onto your skin. He deliberately kept his lips upon your fingers for longer than necessary, curved in that signature smirk.

“Mr. Drysdale, if I may have my hand back. I must obtain a beverage for my sister.”

Mischief twinkled back at you from his eyes. “Allow me to accompany you. I’m sure your brother and mother would both enjoy a drink,” he was quick to close down the objection posed on your lips.

Your brother thanked Drysdale with a clap on his shoulder and motioned for you to go on. You could only give Vinnie a frown as she preened at you with excitement. You proceeded without protest, knowing your brother’s attention was occupied, searching for a Miss Amarea Dane, whom you were certain you would welcome as sister-in-law very soon.

You smiled quietly to yourself, once again dreaming of following in your brother’s footsteps and finding a match so certain and true, so compelled by love and affection, rather than simply honor and title. To think, it had been Drysdale who had introduced the couple.

Suddenly, a man backed up straight into your path. You couldn’t avoid stumbling aside and directly into the arms of Drysdale.

“Watch yourself, Chen. Maybe go easy on the wine,” Drysdale called to the man who raised an empty glass at him with a laugh.

You attempted to straighten up, aware you were surrounded by several people and had just fallen into the embrace of Drysdale, who was notorious for seducing the city’s ladies.

“Let go,” you insisted quietly, dropping your gaze to your wrist which he held on to.

Drysdale gave you stern glance and led you close behind him, keeping his grasp on you hidden as he pulled you through the room.

When the two of you made it beyond the side entrance, you tried retrieving your hand.

“Mr. Drysdale, let go.” You had not wanted to draw attention with so many guests around you. You would die of embarrassment to allow anyone to see Drysdale’s hand on yours beyond the required polite greeting.

��Come, my lady. You cannot blame me for wishing to acquire your attention all to myself.”

“You are being most inappropriate.” You huffed as he pulled into the gardens. “Let go of me this instant.”

“So eager to return to your suitors? I’m sure I saw at least five gentleman who have called on you this month.”

“How can you know of the gentlemen who have called on me?” You dug your heels into the gravel, drawing up short when Drysdale stopped and rounded on you.

“Well, Barber makes no secret of his admiration for you. Or that idiot colonel’s son? And that Wilson fellow makes such noise at the gentlemen’s club about his intent to propose.”

You smiled at his apparent crossness. “Are you tracking my proposals? Are you requesting a fee for updating me about the intentions of my suitors?”

Drysdale stepped closer, his sharp jawline clenched. “So you’re pleased then?”

“Why shouldn’t I be?” You bit back a gasp when he tugged you forward, his hands on your waist which pressed against his front. “If you don’t let go—“

“What will you do?” His smirk returned and your fists pushed against the solid muscle of his arms. “What would you do?” He asked again, dipping his face close to yours. “If someone saw the Governor’s honorable eldest daughter, the pearl of the city, alone in the dark with a man?”

“How dare you? You better let go or my brother –“

“Would only be too happy to welcome me into the family.”

You did not miss his meaning. If you were discovered in this position by anyone, your brother would demand that your honor be redeemed by marriage to Drysdale. As handsome as the man was, you had no wish to pair the rest of your life with a man who flirted with dozens of women each season and broke just as many hearts.

“Well I am certain, sir, he would never force me to marry someone so crude as yourself. He is familiar with your outrageous behavior, so he knows you would make an ill match and I would never consent to it.” You tried leaning back from Drysdale, feeling a growl work from his chest. You couldn’t show him fear, no. You had enough of this man making your life miserable just because he was bored.

He didn’t relent, his palms flexing around your waist tighter. “You think that just because your father protects you, you are beyond the pressures, the claws of people of our standing?” He chuckled darkly. “I assure you, if it was between your happiness and ensuring your family avoids falling from grace, your parents would not hesitate to throw you to the wolves, to sacrifice your childish dreams in order to uphold their status. That’s what you’re searching for, isn’t it? Behind that pretty face are the same silly fancies as all the other girls. Dreams of love.”

“I don’t expect you to understand, so mock me all you want.” You continued struggling, determined to not back down from his burning gaze, but drawing short of breath all the same to have him so close. “Everyone knows you’re too busy fooling around and playing with women who, yes, want to find love. I only pity them for believing you have the ability to give that to them.”

He whispered your name low in warning, his voice sending a flutter down your stomach. You arranged a fierce scowl at him.

“It’s the truth. All you care about are your family’s riches and living like you have no responsibility to your community. Well, go on. Find some poor woman and give your family an heir so you can secure your fortune and continue your wild ways in comfort. But rest assured, I’d rather be thrown to wolves than end up paired with a man like you.”

Your squeak of shock was cut short when Drysdale crashed his mouth on yours. He molded your lips, swallowing your gasp as he sucked your lower lip. You felt suffocated with an intense heat blossoming from your stomach and growing further as you sensed the wet lick of his tongue.

Drysdale knew every time he pushed your buttons he got to enjoy your soft features lighting up just the way he liked; and at the same time he suffered your blatant disdain. For months he had told himself he was only after some entertainment in the form of your admittedly beautiful displeasure directed at him to liven up the droll season. Yet, here he was, unable to restrain himself from touching you, your warm smile haunting his thoughts, the silk of your skin an insufferable craving that occupied him at every hour.

You tried to twist out of his arms, but he held you pressed against him, a soft whimper from you further igniting his desire to wrap you up and make sure no other man witnessed you like this. Breathless. Vulnerable. So, so sweet, just as he imagined you would be.

You were unsure how to respond, failing to escape from his hold. So you fought back with your mouth, lips pushing against his, much to Drysdale’s delight. He barely allowed you to draw breath as he tilted his head, hand caressing the back of your neck to keep you close, quickly sneaking his tongue into the hot cavern of your mouth. He felt you tremble at his invasion, your hands gripping his jacket. He opened his eyes, appreciating the moon’s gleam on your cheek, your lashes fluttering. Despite your drawn brow, he could tell you were no longer opposed to his ministrations. He groaned when your tongue whirled against his.

It was the familiar quiver in your core that struck you and had you thrashing until you had pushed Drysdale away. You could not allow this man to awaken desires within you. You covered your mouth, panting, feeling tears sting your eyes.

You heard your name from him.

“Don’t!” You kept your face hidden with a hand, as though you could hide what had just happened. “Don’t every come near me again, Drysdale.”

“You can’t mean that.”

You stepped back before he could reach you. “I’m sorry. I am to call you Thrombey now, correct? You’ve inherited a title and doubled your worth. Well, don’t for one second think that makes me care for you.”

You rushed out of the garden, praying he wouldn’t catch up. Drysdale breathed deep. Your words stung him.

He shook himself, making a vow. Darling, you’re not getting away from me.

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

No, no, this could not be happening. It was still early in the day and your life was ruined. Or, it would be very soon.

“If you don’t accept my proposal, I will ensure that the whole city hears about your little moonlight tryst with Drysdale. We all know he’s not the type to step up for a woman’s honor. So you’ll be left with a scandal and no further suitors, you can be sure of it.”

That was the threat from Mr. Mildred, the colonel’s son who creeped on the edges of parties and was known to mistreat the help of his household.

You couldn’t stand the thought of marrying Mildred. Yet, what were your options? Your parents would heed your wishes, but the shame of a scandal would be hard for your family to recover from. You father’s reelection might even be impacted. Boston may be a modern city but progress was slow when it came to the rules of courtship amongst upper social circles. And your marriage prospects, well, very few bachelors would come calling once they heard you described as a loose woman.

It had been too much to hope that no one witnessed what happened in the garden.

You stood, restless and angry with yourself. How could you have melted into Drysdale’s touch? That was just as agonizing to you as Mildred’s words. Ever since you first met Drysdale, heard of his leisurely bachelor ways and his aversion to marriage and family, you had vowed to never fraternize with anyone of his nature. He was everything you did not want for a stable, loving family and spouse.

So many months, you had been forced to hear him mock you with pleasantries, intrude on your homely comforts, charm your mother and sisters, monopolize your brother’s time. And yet. His broad form hovering close to you as you practiced pianoforte. His many glances with those sky blue eyes during park strolls. The low purr of his voice that followed you into your dreams. Drysdale had managed to worm his way into your subconscious. At one point, you had thought he was tolerable, kind, and perhaps capable of sincerity; but that night in the garden had shown you his true colors.

Two days later, you fared no better. Your mother summoned you into the parlor, sharing that she had encountered Mr. Mildred at a tea party and he mentioned a dreadful whisper he believed to be about you and a gentleman together without chaperones in the Senator’s garden.

Had Mildred run out of patience already? Your mother’s tight frown was your answer. You apologized profusely, tears escaping as you tried to hold yourself together in the presence of someone you had sworn never to disappoint.

Apparently, Mildred informed your mother that such a whisper had not spread far, but he could not be certain of preventing its spread.

You were interrupted by the house maid, bringing a letter to your mother informing of a dinner visit.

The rest of your day, your head ached with the decision you had to make. Drysdale would not be affected by the gossip but you would not remain unscathed for long. Even with the respect your father received as Governor, your prospects grew slimmer than ever. Yet you could not accept a sacred vow of lifelong marriage to the conniving Mildred.

And Drysdale, well, you told yourself you would not entertain the idea. You had rejected his advances once already. You told yourself he had only courted you to add to his conquests and he only continued to antagonize you to alleviate his boredom.

It wasn’t until you entered the dining room that you realized your mother’s dinner guests were the Drysdales, including Lord Thrombey. You lowered yourself into a seat next to your sister, forcing a smile at Lady Drysdale before her strident tones returned to a conversation with your mother. Movement to your other side prompted you, but your smile fell flat to see Ransom Drysdale beside you. He only nodded to you, though you caught his eyes glinting with purpose before he turned to your brother.

It was halfway through dinner that Drysdale made the announcement. He had requested your father’s permission and was proposing to you this very night.

You scarcely noted your two families’ reactions, excusing yourself from the table and winding up in the dimly lit back yard of your home.

“Why?” you asked as soon as you heard footsteps behind you. Turning to Drysdale, you demanded, “Why are you doing this?”

He watched you, eyes dark and framed by thick lashes. His jaw tensed and then he stepped up to you, looking down at you.

“As you said. I have to earn my inheritance. I need an heir for my grandfather. For that to happen, I need a wife.”

You shook your head, his words striking at your heart.

“You’ll do just fine, I suppose,” he finished.

“No!” You shoved at his chest, barely swaying him. “You don’t get to do this. This is my life.”

“I heard what Mildred was going to do,” he said, swallowing hard. “If I didn’t propose, you’d have to marry him. Or –“

“I would deal with the gossip however I see fit! How could you come to my home and propose in front of our entire families. How could you—“

He wrapped his hands around your biceps, dragging you close. “You can’t say no.”

Helpless, you could only silently deny his ruthless words with an anguished shake of your head.

“You can’t say no to me. No matter what you tell yourself about how merciful your lovely society friends will be. We both know if you don’t accept my proposal…” He glanced away with a chuckle before eying you, his grin cocky, sneering. “And don’t even bother thinking you might escape from this by actually marrying Mildred. He’ll back off as soon as he hears the new Lord Thrombey has proposed. Either way, looks like you’re not going to the wolves.”

One hand grasped your neck and jaw, drawing your lips to his. He could sigh with relief. He had not been able to rest ever since tasting you.

“Drysdale –“

“Ransom,” he whispered, rubbing his lips to yours before reclaiming them in a deeper kiss that consumed all of your senses. You couldn’t gather your wits to question how he managed to force all thoughts from your mind. Surely your anger was the source of the sparks lit in your breast as you felt his tongue sweep into your mouth roughly. You sagged against him. Ransom’s lips released you, trailing along your skin.

“Call me Ransom.” His order came firm as he dropped kisses down the corner of your mouth to your ear. It pained him to be the cause of your tears, but he would be damned if he let that weasel Mildred sully your name, or get to twist his fingers in your dark tresses, learn your curves, taste your lips. No, Ransom would be your villain.

“R-Ransom,” you gasped out, so aware of his body heat rolling against you, his thick arms encircling you.

“Accept my proposal.” He knew he had crushed his very slight chances of being on the receiving end of your kind heart, forcing your hand like this.

He pressed his forehead to yours, warm hands framing either side of your face. His thumbs stroked away your tears, and you were struck by the earnest plea in his eyes.

"Alright."

He took a deep breath and stepped back from you, his face a cool mask. "Let us inform our families."

This may be another game to him, an easy means to an end. For you, it wasn’t a choice.

--‐-------------------------------------------------------------------------

You made it through your short engagement and overly grand wedding by devoting your entire energy to convincing your family that you were the eager, blushing bride. You offered minimal answers as your dear sister asked about how Drysdale – no, how Ransom had claimed your heart. You dutifully picked out wedding bouquets with your mother and responded to the well wishes of your father’s friends.

All the while, your busy schedule served as an excuse to avoid your groom-to-be. With middling success. Now that he had claimed your hand, and more, proved your dreams were all for naught, he couldn’t resist reminding you to your face how naïve you had been. Worse, he took advantage of his status as your fiancé.

He took the opportunity at every lunch to sit close to you and toss that triumphant smirk your way. He invited you to the park with your family, leading you ahead and lacing his fingers through yours as he put on a show of holding you steady upon the walkways. He played the love-struck bachelor, dragging you between the far shelves of your father’s library and exploring your mouth with a frenzy that left you dizzy. Your resistance was no match for his determination to overpower you, to flaunt his victory. Yet, you could almost see the arrogant curl of his mouth morphing with each kiss as his eyes softened. And each time, you grew more hopeless - conflicted - as his touch grew familiar, satisfying a part of you which you could not control. You were truly out of your depth when it came to Ransom.

It mattered not. You could not take back your word. The Governor’s daughter that you were so proud to be could not collapse in your own despair. As far as anyone was concerned, you and Ransom had both discovered an unlikely, passionate love for one another and wished very badly to wed.

You should have been exhausted after the early day of wedding celebration you had endured with Ransom, the incomparably handsome and gallant groom. And after many hours riding out to Halifax, the Thrombey country home. Your new home.

But a new challenge was upon you this late night - your wedding night. At least, that had been your sole problem up until Ransom had deposited you in your marital chamber and excused himself. You had absentmindedly, nervously, glided around the room to admire the woodwork. Only to notice a parchment corner peeking from the drawer of an antique desk. Which led you to open the drawer and pluck at the papers with your name upon them.

The pearl of the city. An apt title, yet it fails to define your beauty, Y/N…

…Is it a gift or a curse that I should be visited with visions of your sweet face as I sleep…

Barry speaks highly of you, his sister, and your affinity for family, your desire for a true love. A shame that such an exquisite soul should be beyond my grasp. No, I have earned this torture. I could never deserve you, nor offer you what you deserve…

So many lines speaking of admiration for your character, yearning to learn what would be worthy of your affections, admissions that you were too sweet, too good to be burdened with him. Words hinting of curiosity, of desire for a future with you, a family unlike the one he grew up with.

…I can only laugh at myself for daring to dream God might have mercy on me and lead me into your arms, and lead us to the dreams you and I share…

The sound of the door swinging open had you looking up to meet Ransom’s gaze. He slowed in his entrance, seeing the pile you clasped in hand.

“Those are mine,” he said, voice tight. His hands curled with your big eyes shining upon him full of question.

“My name is on them. They’re mine,” you countered.

“Forget them,” he commanded. “They are only…”

“Fancies? Silly dreams of…love?” you asked. “You’re a talented writer.” You smiled seeing his flushed cheeks, his averted, shy grimace.

“I used to sit with my grandfather for long hours. Reading. Discussing stories.”

“Did your grandfather also help you practice writing love letters?”

He smiled without mirth. “No. I figured I wanted to make a fool of myself so I documented foolish musings.”

You closed the distance between you. Your face was uplifted, beseeching Ransom to meet your eyes. He could not ignore your presence, attention intense on him and almost more than he could bear.

“Is there truth in these words?” you asked quietly, careful not to spook this man, this loud, cocky man who had presented you with such a convincing disdain for anything sincere.

“It does not matter.”

“It matters. Because you chose me.” You pressed your fingertips to his lip, stopping his protest. Ransom closed his eyes for moment, barely believing you were touching him of your own will. He breathed in your perfume, disoriented by your proximity, your discovery. “Why did you never…?”

“Because I’ve always known such things were childish. My own parents proved to me a long time ago love has little value in a family.”

You shook your head in protest of such cynicism. But the bitter turn of his mouth reminded you of various instances in his family's presence - his parent's demand for recognition and power, his uncle scoffing at expressions of kindness.

“Because I felt foolish for even wanting something different. You were right. Anyone would be lucky to avoid me and my family. We’re a sham. There’s nothing beneath the surface for my parents and they’ve taught me well.”

“There’s more,” you insisted.

“Well then I’m a coward because I can’t bring myself to go in search for more. You were right. I am content with my family’s fortune. I would have been fine growing old alone, but I had to trap you with me. Now, you won’t achieve your marriage of love, your desire for a warm family.”

You cupped his cheeks, forcing him to look at you. “I was the coward.” You drew him down, closing your eyes and pressing your foreheads together. “I saw more in you, but I was afraid. Afraid of risking my heart, afraid I might achieve the very thing that I have been yearning for.”

He whispered your name. You hushed him.

“Tell me. Do you truly love me?”

His breath feathered against your lips. “I love you.” There was such a raw vulnerability in his confession.

“Then that is all that matters. You and I will build the family we dreamed of. I promise.”

Like your vow had snipped him loose of his control, he yanked you in and kissed you hard.

“Be mine,” he murmured between sucks of your lips, drinking you in. “Give me all of you, and I swear, love, I’ll be your family. I’ll give you anything.”

You believed him. Cupped his head in yearning. “Yes. Yes, Ransom.”

His hands tugged impatiently at your gown, dragging the outer layers down. Long fingers pulled at your skirts. You worked at undoing his vest and shirt. Your hands trembled to feel his bare skin, the tickle of chest hair and such warmth emanating against you as he drew you close. You gasped to feel his hands squeezing your curves through your thin shift, seeking with greed for more. He walked you both to the bed and placed you in the middle, laid out for him as he had dreamt for months.

His touch dipped under your shift, setting your heart racing. As his mouth danced lower, he growled, tearing the top of your shift to expose your bare tits and mouth hungrily at them. You couldn’t stop wriggling, clutching around his neck and shoulders, arching up to his tongue that flicked a nipple before sucking.

“I’ve wanted you so long. Want to taste you.”

Before you knew it, you felt him panting at the delicate flesh between your legs, no article of clothing remotely hiding your body from him. He stopped you from closing your thighs, fingertips bruising as he held you open and licked broad stripes at your sex. You had never imagined such sensations, such a heat as Ransom so thoroughly pulled you apart with his mouth.

He watched through his lashes as you writhed, testing what you enjoyed most. His tongue teased at your entrance and then breached you to lash your inner walls. Your sharp cry had him groaning as his hard cock begged for friction. Your gasps bordered on sobs and he needed to see you fall off that edge.

His lips closed around your increasingly wet petals, shaking his head back and forth and sucking hard. When his teeth scraped your clit, your mouth froze open, your back arched off the bed and locked in feverish pleasure. Your rapture pulsed through you as he pressed his tongue flat to your throbbing bud.

“Darling, look at you.” How glorious you looked, soft and panting. Ransom climbed forward to kiss you, sharing the earthy tang of your pleasure. You hummed into his mouth, still drifting in a hazy cloud.

“Look at me, love,” he whispered. You opened your eyes. He watched you, lust and joy burning in his gaze. “You’re mine.”

You nuzzled his nose, whispered, “I’m yours.” Your breath left you as his cock, thick and insistent, pressed into you, pushing in and in until you felt nothing but full.

His lips never stopped kissing your face, your jaw, your mouth. As if he could tell the very instant the sting receded for you, Ransom moved, thrusting shallow. You found yourself wrapped around him, clinging as you had never been so desperate for another person before.

His moans and grunts joined you as he sped up. Everything he was doing, his hips clapping your thighs, his weight caging you, rekindled the thrill in you, the pleasure mounting more when he managed to slide his hand between you and swipe at your clit. You keened, unable to beg him to finish you off, but you knew he would do it. Knew he wouldn’t stop. His mouth sucked at your neck and he angled his thrust just so. You were lost to the world, grinding up against Ransom, chasing the pleasure that crackled from your core. Ransom nearly crushed you to the mattress as his rhythm rose to a frantic end and he released his seed through his swelling cock to fill you.

Your name rasped from him as he ground his hips into you with the instinctual need to ram his seed into your womb.

Long hours later, after Ransom’s need to claim you again resulted in multiple releases for you both, when you had caught your breath, you let him wind his naked form around yours.

You drifted off to his sleepy murmurs of, “I’m yours.”

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

A month later and Ransom maintained firm control of your attentions, both mental and physical. He seemed intent on desecrating every room of the vast country home. One afternoon, the two of you had toured the family’s art collection. He had lured you into an alcove to view a Verocchio sculpture. You ended up with his face buried between your legs under the sculpture’s shadow, biting your fist to quiet your moans as Ransom’s tongue thrust into you. Right before you came, he slipped out from your skirts, bunching them at your waist and pushing you up against the wall. Your faced pressed into his neck with relief to feel his cock stretch you. Opened you up with rough jolts as your legs drew tight around him. His hips snapped urgently, quickly blazing flames within you until your explosive climax overwhelmed you. He fucked you until he came, biting your shoulder as he rutted hard to push his release deep into you, until you were overfilled and his spend seeped out and trailed between the two of you to mix with your own juices.

Tonight, his desire for you was unrestrained. Already, he had kissed and licked what seemed like every inch of your skin. Your release dripped from you and into his greedy mouth latched to your folds as you came down from your high, tugging his dark locks of hair.

“Ransom, please.”

“Yes, love?” His lips grazed a path up your stomach, then up between your breasts littered with red love bites. He rubbed his face into the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent.

“Need to feel you.”

Ransom grinned. He pulled you upward, lifting and turning you so you rested in his lap with your shoulder blades meeting his chest dusted with fine hair. You arched your back, feeling his hard, leaking cock so hot against your skin. His fingers combed your hair aside, mouth nipping and kissing from your neck to your shoulder.

His hand cupped your sex, groaning at the soaked heat of you. He guided you, lifting up just enough to run the sensitive head of his cock through your folds. Your whine forced more precum to dribble from his slit. He could resist no longer, his cock splitting you open as he drew you down upon his lap until he was buried to the hilt in your tight heat. Soft curses met your ears. You bit your lip, grinding back and forth. Ransom squeezed your waist, held you still.

“Ransom…”

Damned, how he loved the sound of his name falling from you, needy and wrecked from pleasure. And still wanting more of him. He couldn’t begin to guess how someone like him could deserve your affections and loyalty. Good thing he was a greedy bastard, unrepentant of his actions that had blessed his home and bed with you.

Shivers wracked your spine when he cooed at you with his gravelly tone. “You want me, love?”

“Want you so bad.”

He smirked at your whimper when he swirled his groin slow beneath you. His tongue teased along your earlobe, driving a plea from you.

“Want you, Ransom. Oh, please.”

“And you’ll give me what I desire, yes? Will you, love?”

You managed jerky nods, choking when he slid agonizingly slow from your cunt and pushed back into you. Only to stop and hold himself there, speared maddeningly in you.

His breath tickled your ear. “You, love, are going to give me a baby. Yes?”

He drove his hips up, drawing a moan from you.

“Isn’t that right, darling?”

“Y-yes…Rans…ah” You stuttered with his deep, hard strokes.

“Is that what you want? Hm? Big, beautiful family with me?”

“Yes.” Your response rushed out, breathy.

“Love you. Want to fill you up over and over.”

You whined loud, his words and the drag of his thick cock inside you driving you crazy.

“Because you’re mine. You’re all mine.” His hand curled over yours, pressing your palm and fingers to your core where the two of you were joined beneath dark curls. “Feel that?”

“Oh god.” You surely felt what he wanted you to. His steely member claiming you again and again.

“Yes, feel me and you? This.” He kept your hand there, feeling every push and pull of his cock, from inside and out, so you couldn’t escape him. “Feel how you belong to me? All of you. You’re mine forever.”

“I’m yours….” You cried out as his rhythm sped up. “Ransom!”

You threw your head back, both yours and his fingers circling the nub of your inflamed clit, his harsh breaths beating against your neck as his words blended.

“Mine,” he grunted.

Your pleasure burst like a dam, your release splashed and squirted out, then throbbed with his relentless touch. The wave spread outward, tensing your muscles, buzzing upon your skin. Feeling you squeeze and flutter around him drove Ransom to the brink until all he could think of was filling you, rooting his seed into you so you grew soft and big with his child. You were the beginning and finish of his everything.

Ransom couldn’t stop himself. His strokes grew uneven but remained deep, hard, determined. His arm wrapped around you tight as he launched you both forward, driving you onto your hands and knees so he could rut as deep as possible. You moaned, overcome with the hot rush of his seed filling you and his cock pounding it deeper into you.

You both settled into the bed with tangled limbs, slowing your breaths and the ache of desire. Your toes curled, enjoying the pressure of his cock nestled in you still, content that you both were looking forward to your first child. To a family all your own.

[dplusaring]

My Sneaky Brain’s AU

AU = alternative universe WHAT IF :

After Nesta & Cassian are married, they split up - you can say it was because they were put in an impossible position like Helion and the Lady of the Autumn Court OR Rhysand’s war plans with Koschei tear them apart OR something happens that makes Rhysand say F U to Nesta even though he owes her his and his family’s life and yeets her from the Night Court OR you decide

THEN Nesta is cast back to Prythian, but Rhysand isn’t HIGH KING, so he can only really keep her out of ALLIED lands, if that (cause our boy Helion still wants a slice).

SOMEHOW, Nesta and Eris find each other in Spring Court whilst Tamlin doesn’t have himself together and start chatting prior to Cassian or whoever decides to show up for their secret meetup.

The two chat it off and Eris convinces Nesta to head back to the Autumn Court with him, therefore missing his secret meeting (subtly telling the Night Court to piss off by doing this)

Lord Beron MEETS Nesta, and they end up playing MASSIVE court politics during her entire stay there, but she’s fed and clothed

In secret, Nesta and Eris are planning for his take-down BY THEMSELVES, aka without the Night Court and outsiders

Nesta being the “witch” she is, creates a potion to enhance Eris’ powers that can only be made once (obviously)

PLUS, Nesta is still in control of an ENTIRE Dead Trove and steals it from the Night Court's possession the moment Eris sits on the throne as High Lord.

They attack during a ball celebrating their coming union with Autumn Court officials/royals/nobility and SUCCEED

Eris is now High Lord of Autumn Court

High Lord Eris has the entire remaining court’s attention and states his future wife is Nesta Archeron

The marriage ceremony would take place the next day leaving little to no time for interference.

He marries Nesta and announces it to the world AFTER THEY HAVE WED even mentioning that Nesta currently possesses the Dead Trove (it’s politics, after all) - they kept it quiet since everyone in the Night Court thought Nesta was still in Prythian or managed to leave the continent or whatever

Maybe even Nesta becomes a High Lady herself

The two already have Lord Keir and the Court of Nightmares in their pocket

The Valkyries decide to stick with Nesta over the bargain they made or make. #girlpower #alwaysstickingtogether #newfamily

The alliances between the Night Court and other courts would now be vulnerable

Each court must decide which court to pledge allegiance to 

Autumn Court - Risk death by Nesta with the Dead Trove and Eris’ growing flames

Night Court - War from the Night Court

High Lord Eris & (High Lady) Nesta seeing each other as equals in power (you could say the two fell in love or hold equal blackmail on the other therefore never betraying one another), gather allies from across the world without the Night Court, until THEY become THE ultimate power.

Meanwhile, Cassian is fuming about Nesta being with Eris especially after he called the man a coward for not already killing his abusive father (like okay Cas, not everyone can/will do that)

Mor & Cassian get into multiple fights about what he sees in her other than being his mate to the point the entire IC gets involved.

Amren is saying stuff like, “how typical of Nesta to only think about power and herself” but you’d mix in Nesta being poorly treated by the Night Court a month after her mating ceremony - Why? You decide

Elain as a Seer already knows which way this will end, but keeps her mouth closed

Feyre tries sending letters to her sister, Nesta, but after the first few, all letters from the Night Court are burned without regard to their contents (this could be a Lord Beron order or simply out of safety or whatever).

Rhysand is having to plan a hostile take over as his enemies start popping up from all sides of the globe, enemies Nesta & Eris will have to face as well.

Azriel is working himself ill to keep the Night Court as up to date on foreign and domestic issues

THEY BATTLE Koschei or whatever other evil comes up and take him or them DOWN together

End of the war, Nesta ends up PREGNANT! with Eris’s baby (no affairs shall be had here)

Slowly, but surely, the Night Court loses power and crumbles itself from within as the new leaders of Prythian arise (this can be before or after the final battle). 

Epilogue - X years later, Eris & Nesta are a formidable force with a massive kingdom and talented offspring that inherited their gifts (you decide which ones)

HIGH KING AND QUEEN, Eris & Nesta

I think this would be very cool to read.

[bonjour-rainycity]

Odin’s Ward ~ Chapter 1

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Rating: T

Summary: After your mother’s untimely death, your father sees no use for you in Alfheim’s castle. He turns to Odin and Frigga, his longtime friends, and begs them to raise his daughter. This results in what many families yearn for their daughters to have: practically unhindered access to Asgard’s finest resources, as well as the attention of Asgard’s princes. Closer in age and personality, you get along better with Loki, and the two of you become fast friends. As you get older, that friendship grows into something more. Always hanging over your head is the threat of your father calling you back to Alfheim to fulfill the one duty he has for you: entering into a strategic marriage and increasing his own power. Still, you and Loki decide to make the most of the time you have left...however long that may be. 

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters nor am I making any money from this story. 

A/n: Hello, thank you for stopping by! I originally posted this on ff.net, but now that I’m reading it, I kind of hate it. So I decided to clean it up, rework it a bit, and post it here! Also, all the ages I include here are the Earthly approximates of Aesir ages. Because they live for thousands of years, time passes differently for them. I just went with my approximation of their Earthly ages for my sanity and simplicity’s sake. 

Word count: 2947

Warnings: None

Y/n: 7 // Loki: 9 // Thor: 14

Y/n’s POV

“Come now, girl,” Odin’s pinched voice calls ahead of me. I pick up the skirt of my dress and quicken my pace, hoping not to displease him further. The high walls of the castle are imposing enough—I don’t need the added stress of an angry king. Odin continues. “This is Idsol. She will show you to your room and serve as your nanny until you are old enough to require a maidservant.”

He says nothing more. Taking that as a dismissal, I curtsey and murmur a, “thank you, Your Majesty,” to the king.

Idsol, an older, severe-looking woman with a slicked back bun, beckons to me, and I follow her to the doors of my new chambers. When she speaks, her voice is rough, though her phrasing is elegant. It is clear she’s grown up in the influence of Court. “Here, let us get you changed into something fresh.” She leads me into a generously sized room and takes me straight to the wardrobe on the far-right wall. I don’t even have time to assess my new dwellings, because Idsol is pulling the fabric of my dress over my head and shoving me into a new one made of a soft blue color.

“Dinner begins at seven o’clock. I will come to retrieve you and escort you to dinner. During dinner, you will take your seat quietly and not speak unless spoken to. Understand?”

She waits for my nod before continuing. “Keep your head down and your elbows off the table. You don’t want to make a bad first impression, do you?”

I shake my head ‘no’, but in reality, I can’t find the energy to care. It’s been a long, exhausting day, and there’s still nearly half of it left. “Good.” Idsol approves. “Stay here in your chambers until I come to collect you.”

She leaves and I stare blankly at the door, not feeling much at all. Lacking the willpower necessary to climb onto the huge bed, I sit on the cold stone floor and pull my tiny doll—Elsa—into my arms. It’s then that the tears hit me. I rock myself back and forth, clutching the doll that looks so much like my mother, searching for a comfort that is unlikely to be found.

“Mama…” The name echoes off the stone walls.

{***}

When my room becomes dark due to the absence of sun streaming through the windows, Nanny Idsol finds me curled into a ball on the floor, still gripping my doll. Tears stain my face, but I ran out of new ones long ago.

“Oh, now,” Nanny Idsol chastises, pulling me off the ground and setting me on the plush bed. She disappears, returning moments later with a washrag, which she uses to wipe my face clean. She quickly styles my hair into a presentable braid, then picks me up and places me on the ground. “Time for dinner.” She plucks Elsa from my hands, earning a noise of protest from me, which she quickly silences with a look.

I follow her dejectedly to the eating hall. She pushes me in, then abandons me. I file into what I hope is my seat. As the King’s Ward, I know I’m invited to dine with the Royal Family, but I do not feel lucky, as many would. I just feel sad.

King Odin enters and I stand, well aware of protocol even in my current state. As soon as he sits, I make a move to take my seat again, but am stopped by a warm hand gripping my elbow.

Gulping in surprise, I raise my head to see who is touching me. The boy stopping me is tall with wavy blonde hair reaching to his chin. Most likely one of Odin’s sons.

“My Lady, I’m afraid that this is my seat.”

“I-I…”I try to speak, but all that comes out is air. Panicked, I look at the ground.

The boy sighs and uses his grip on my elbow to pull me to the middle of the table. The King’s seat.

“Father, who is this and where does she sit?” Annoyance colors the boy’s voice. If I had to guess, I’d say this one is Prince Thor. I’d heard he’s the eldest of the two.

Odin looks up and seems surprised by my presence. “Ah, I almost forgot.” He stands, evidently preparing to make an announcement. I take a few steps back, hoping to hide behind Prince Thor’s height. It doesn’t work.

“Lords and Ladies of Asgard.” The Court snaps to attention. “It is my…pleasure,” he seems to stumble over the word, “to present to you Y/n Y/L/N. After the tragic death of her mother, my family has agreed to take her in and raise her in her family’s stead.”

Prince Thor rolls his eyes and pushes me forward so the people in the eating hall can get a better look at me. I feel my cheeks heat up as I look down at the sixty-or-so gods and goddesses in the room. They applaud, evidently pleased with Odin’s charity. He smiles and waves before taking his seat a few moments later. The matter of my seat, however, has yet to be resolved.

“Mother?” Prince Thor’s voice is now positively whining.

Queen Frigga looks up at us and assesses the situation. A kind smile crosses her face, and I feel a twinge in my heart. “Sit here, child.” She points to a seat at the far left end of the table next to a boy a few years older than me who had previously gone unnoticed. He’s likely Prince Loki, the youngest.

I shuffle to my seat and wait to be served.

The boy gives me a couple of curious glances but doesn’t say anything until dessert, when he confirms my hunch. “I’m Prince Loki.”

I look up to meet his kind green eyes. “Y/n.” He nods, and that’s the end of it.

After dinner, Nanny Idsol comes to escort me back to my room. As she changes me for bed, she feels the need to talk. “Did you enjoy dinner, Young Mistress?”

I shrug. I don’t remember the taste of anything. Nanny Idsol’s mouth sets into a frustrated line, but she says nothing further. She puts me into bed and leaves me to my tearful night.

{***}

The next three days drag by. I spend every moment I can in my room, but I am still forced to attend dinner. My spot continues to be next to Prince Loki, who never ceases his curious glances but rarely says more to me than, “please pass the butter”. No one else acknowledges my presence.

On the fourth day of my self-imposed isolation, there’s a knock at my door. I open it to see Queen Frigga standing there with a soft smile on her face. My eyes widen and I quickly curtsy. “Good morning, Your Majesty.”

She clasps her hands together, her grace and expensive dress causing her to appear statuesque. When she speaks, it’s with the grace and elegance only obtained through royal blood and years of quality instruction. “Good morning, Lady Y/n. How are you today?”

My mouth goes dry. This is the most intense conversation I’ve had since I departed from Alfheim. “Q-quite well, Your Majesty. And yourself?”

An amused smile floats across her face. “I’ve nothing to complain about. Tell me, young one, why do you keep yourself locked in your chambers?” She bends slightly so she’s closer to my height, but I am still intimidated. It’s not everyday the Queen personally visits the young daughter of a diplomat.

I don’t risk lying to her. “I miss my home, Your Majesty.” She raises an eyebrow, expecting me to elaborate. I oblige. “I miss my friends, and my tutors, and my horses. I miss the music and the sunsets. I miss…” My voice trails off and my eyes find a spot on the floor. I just want to go back to bed.

But the Queen is not done with me, and probes further. “You miss…?”

I sigh, realizing I cannot avoid the words it will hurt to confront. “I miss my mother.”

Queen Frigga’s face turns into one colored with pity and sadness, and something in my stomach clenches. “Young Y/n, your mother is now in Vanaheim, a place lovelier than any other. It is our burden to miss the ones that are gone, but we should also celebrate their fortune. She is happy, I can promise you that. And she watches over you still; she cares for you and sends her love to you.”

My eyes fill with tears. I bite my lip in a desperate attempt to keep them from spilling over.

The Queen continues. “Although I did not know your mother well, I am a mother myself. And, as a mother, I can guess that it would sadden her to see you sequestered into your chambers all these hours. Come, let us get you freshened up. You shall please your mother by playing with the other children.”

I sniffle and follow her to my wardrobe. The impropriety of the situation manages to strike me. “Your Majesty, I can call for Nanny Idsol—”

“Do not trouble yourself,” she interrupts, ending my attempts at protesting. “I know how to dress a young lady, as I once was one…long, long ago.” She throws an impish smile over her shoulder, one I’m sure she does not show often. I feel honored, and a hesitant smile begins on my face. She finds a dress that catches her eye. “How about this? Lilac would look lovely with your hair.” I blush and thank the Queen.

Soon, I’m wearing a new dress and my hair is done in a braid wrapping around my head.

Queen Frigga says nothing of the doll in my arms and beckons me to follow her into the hallway. There, we find a scandalized Nanny Idsol.

“Y-Your Majesty, please. Let me escort Lady Y/n. You must have—”

Queen Frigga cuts my nanny off with a raised hand. “Thank you for your offer, Nanny Idsol, but I’m sure I can manage. In the future, however, please remember that a good caretaker does not ignore the needs of her ward.”

“Y-yes, my Queen. Sorry, my Queen.”

Queen Frigga offers a kind yet firm smile, and I’m filled with admiration. What it must take to exude the perfect balance of authority and benevolence.

We continue on our route, and I get more and more confused as we wind through the labyrinthine halls. It will be quite some time before I will be ready to accurately navigate Castle Asgard alone.

We come to a double set of large oak doors, and the guards posted outside straighten before opening them wide. Cool air hits my face.

The room is a large, circular shape, and the center is slightly lowered than the rest. Mostly decorated in browns and golds, the room has an earthy feel to it. A window opposite the doors allows for some natural light, but the room is largely lit by light spheres and torches. I raise my eyebrows appreciatively. This room could be quite peaceful.

“Mother!”

Any hope of peace is quickly erased by the sight and sound of the two Asgardian princes.

“Thor, Loki.” The Queen uses their names as a fond greeting. “Spend some time with Lady Y/n; help her to feel more at home.” Both boys nod dutifully, but I can tell Prince Thor is a little annoyed at his task of entertaining a young girl. I restrain a huff of indignation. If only he knew how content I would be in my own chambers.

Still, I retain my respectful attitude. “Thank you, Your Majesty.” I curtsy as the Queen leaves, then turn to my face my playmates, curtsying to them both as well.

“Your Highnesses, I am sorry to disrupt your time of leisure.” They both stare at me blankly, as if they’re unsure what to do with me.

Finally, Prince Thor nods, and I take that as my dismissal. I find a spot on the edge of the room and sit there with my doll. Quickly, Prince Thor and Prince Loki forget my presence and resume their game of war. I busy myself playing with Elsa’s hair, admiring how well the color resembles the one shared by me and my mother. It reflects off the light from the torches, creating a mesmerizing effect. I spend the better part of an hour braiding and re-braiding the hair of my doll.

“Mother said to play with her.” Despite his attempts, Prince Loki’s hushed voice carries to my side of the room.

“No,” his brother’s voice retorts, full of manufactured authority. “Mother said to make her feel at home. She looks pretty at home to me on that edge there.”

Prince Loki huffs, and Prince Thor rolls his eyes. “I did not mean that rudely, just that she does not seem like the type of girl to enjoy being around other people.”

I pretend to not have heard their conversation as the youngest prince stomps over to me, his brother reluctantly following behind him.

Prince Loki stops a few feet from me, raising an eyebrow. “Would you like to join us, My Lady?”

Knowing better than to refuse the request of a prince, I accept. “I would be honored, Your Grace.”

Prince Loki takes it upon himself to explain the rules of the game. “You see, Thor’s the hero, and I’m the villain. My goal is to steal the orb he’s guarding, and Thor’s job is not to let me.” Upon seeing Prince Thor’s pointed stare, Prince Loki quickly adds, “You can be on my team.”

I continue to stand safely out of the way.  “Thank you, Your Grace.”

“Ready…go!” Prince Thor’s booming voice begins the game. I study Prince Loki’s movements as he tries to concoct a strategy to get past his brother. Prince Thor is older and stronger, but Prince Loki is clearly smarter. He uses strategy and cunning in his attempts, while Prince Thor relies on brute strength. In the end though, Prince Thor wins by decisively tossing his brother across the room. My eyes widen and I clutch Elsa tighter to my chest, but Prince Loki just laughs good-naturedly and brushes himself off, walking back to join us in the center of the room.

“Lady Y/n, why don’t you take a turn?”

Prince Thor and I are in similar states of disagreement with Loki’s suggestion, yet neither of us argues. Not loosening my grip on my doll, I step forward to face Prince Thor. He’s at least double my height and his arms are the size of my head. I’ve heard tales of his affability, but he could probably crush me on accident alone! Still, I dig my heels into the floor, steeling myself for what’s to come. He lets me make the first move—a small step in his direction—before ending my forward progress; with a grand step, he’s placed himself in front of me. He reaches his meaty arms toward my frame and—

Bam!

He takes a startled step backwards.

It takes a second before the gravity of what I’ve just done hits me. Oh gods. I just punched the future king of Asgard in the face.

Prince Loki howls with laughter, but I am utterly mortified.

“Your Highness, please forgive me. I-I am so sorry! I don’t now why I did that. I-I just…”

Prince Thor glowers.

Prince Loki steps between us. “Oh, come now, brother. You cannot seriously be angry with the girl. You scared her, and she reacted accordingly! Leave her be.” Prince Loki’s defense of me is harmed somewhat by his continued laughter.

Prince Thor’s eyebrows twitch before he excuses himself and stalks off to the other side of the room to do some exercise.

Prince Loki’s giggles subside but the mortified look does not leave my face. Still choking a bit on his laughter, he approaches me. “Lady Y/n, I assure you, you did no harm. I do not mean to offend you, but Thor will not have so much as a bruise on his face, as there was not enough force behind your strike.”

I nod dimly, still in a state of shock. I just punched Thor Odinson. My father will be livid if he ever finds out.

As if he can sense what I’m thinking, Prince Loki softens. “No one will know what has occurred here today. Come sit with me, I think I know of a way to cheer you.”

Doubtfully, I follow him to a set of chairs a few feet away.

“May I borrow your doll?”

I very reluctantly hand him Elsa, my most treasured possession.

Prince Loki wraps his hands around her and closes his eyes, already deep in his concentration. His lips twitch as he mutters something I can’t hear, but when he opens his eyes, Elsa straightens.

I furrow my brows and lean in, confused yet eager to see what will happen next.

Prince Loki sets Elsa on the ground between us and lets go. She begins to dance!

My eyes widen and I can’t help it: I laugh. I laugh and clap in delight until Prince Loki joins me. Our laughter even draws Prince Thor in, and the sight of my dancing doll draws a hesitant smile to his face. This is how Queen Frigga finds us when she comes to summon us to dinner, and I can’t help but notice the happiness behind her eyes.

A/n Thanks for reading! Let me know what you thought of it and if you would like to be added to the tag list :) 

Link to next part: https://bonjour-rainycity.tumblr.com/post/629970408715763712/odins-ward-chapter-2

Tag list: @80strashbag @dark-night-sky-99

[horde-princess]

Someone, probably bow or adora, but it's up to you, somehow didn't realise that Spinnerella and Netossa are dating. How do they find out and how does everyone react?

this…… might be my favorite thing i’ve ever written 😭💖🌈 come off anon let me buy you a coffee or something lkjsdfs

(note: this is set in the future. the only real canon deviation is that adora doesn’t know wlw relationships exist 😋)

Marriage didn’t exist inside the Horde.

Sure, there were family units, utilized for social efficiency and reproduction purposes. But once children got to a certain age, they were assigned roles in the army, and the unit was forced to disband. That’s how things worked.

Adora realized now of course that had been just another one of Hordak’s oppressive tactics–because in the rest of Etheria, there were happy couples everywhere. She’d heard all the stories of grand romances between kings and queens, princesses and peasant boys. It all sounded beautiful… but She-Ra had more important things to worry about. Honestly, she wasn’t even sure that romance was something that interested her. 

Until the moment she saw Netossa kneel down on one knee in front of Spinnerella and the entire post-war celebration ball… and Adora felt so dizzy she almost blacked out. 

“Spin, you’re the wind beneath my wings,” Netossa said as their audience looked on, enraptured. “After all we’ve been through, I can’t imagine life without you. What do you say, princess? Will you marry me?” 

The crowd waited with bated breath until, at last, Spinnerella nodded, wiping tears away and pulling Netossa to her feet. They kissed each other sweetly as everyone in the ice castle erupted in cheers.

“Glimmer?” Adora squeaked. “What’s happening?”

Glimmer clutched Adora’s hand, a huge smile taking up half her face. “Netossa finally propoooosed! I can’t believe it!”

“They were always meant to be,” Bow sighed dreamily. 

She couldn’t tear her gaze away, suddenly seeing their affection for each other in a whole new light…

“But—They were—How did—?”

They were… together? This whole time? Two girls getting married…  How was that even possible?!

“Let’s go say congratulations!” Glimmer cried, pulling Adora after her.

“Uh, okay!…”

They approached the newly engaged couple, waiting their turn to say hello. A million questions swirled in Adora’s head about them, and maybe a few about herself.

 “Oh, it’s Glimmer!” Spinnerella laughed. “Bow, Adora! it’s so nice to see you all again.”

Glimmer pulled her down into a hug. “Congrats, you two!! We’re so happy for you!” 

Adora smiled awkwardly, nodding along with the conversation.

“It’s about time you locked it down!” Bow exclaimed, giving Netossa a high five. “Spinnerella’s quite the catch, huh?”

Netossa rolled her eyes.

“You know! Because, nets catch things?” 

“We get it, Bow,” Glimmer groaned. “Ooh! Let’s see the ring!”

————–

After a little while, the party began to wind down. Adora decided to wait for an opening and speak to them alone, and it took all the courage she had. Fighting off giant robots? Ha. That was nothing. But this?

The three of them were seated at a table, Netossa and Spinnerella patiently enduring Adora’s interrogation.

“So you, um…” Adora swallowed, blushing. “Hold each other, and stuff? Like other couples?” 

Netossa raised an amused eyebrow. She turned to look at Spinnerella with such love and intimacy in her eyes that Adora had to look away.

“Yeah… And stuff.”

“Oh, hush,” Spinnerella chided, turning back to Adora. “I’m still surprised you didn’t know!”

“Yeah, I had no idea… I guess I just thought you were close friends, like me and–”

Time suddenly stopped.

Like me and Catra…

There was a quiet moment where Spinnerella shared a smile with her fiancé, then eyed Adora curiously.

“You know, for such a charming hero, you don’t seem to have many suitors hanging around…” She glanced up briefly. “Well. Maybe one or two.”

“Suitors?” she questioned, following her line of sight.

And that’s when Adora saw her. She was leaning against a pillar in the back of the ballroom, deep in conversation with Scorpia. Unlike the Princess Ball, she was dressed in a tasteful black suit and tie; but she wore it in such a way that made it clear she wasn’t here to impress anyone. Her friend had changed so much the past couple of years, from a vengeful kid to a liberator… and the new ruler of the Horde. She stood a little taller, carried herself with the attractive grace of a Lord. It left a fuzzy feeling in Adora’s stomach. They really thought that Catra wanted to… court her?

Catra looked up, then, and their eyes met across the room. Adora whipped her head back around. Geez, was it hot in here or something? What was this, an ice castle or a furnace?!

“You okay there?” Netossa smirked. “You’re red as a tomato.”

“Wh–Am I?”

Adora touched her cheek, attempting to hide it. Then out of nowhere a group of people approached the table to offer congratulations, interrupting their conversation.

“Oh, Adora, please stay!” Spinnerella begged as Adora stumbled up out of her chair. 

“No, no, sorry, I don’t mean to take all of your time–uh, enjoy the party!”

She headed quickly towards the balcony, hoping to catch some fresh air and get her head straight, when a voice behind her made her freeze.

“Hey, Adora.”

…Oh no.

She was so screwed. 

Adora took a deep breath and turned around to face her. “Catra! Hey! What’s up?”

“This party sucks,” she lamented, oblivious to her friend’s crisis. 

Adora held back a laugh. “Maybe that’s because you’re hiding in a corner.”

“Easy for you to say! Everybody here likes you.”

Adora sensed that there was more agitation behind her smile than she let on, and she wondered if it was really the people here making her feel unwelcome, or just the guilt she still carried with her. Maybe that’s why she hadn’t seen much of her tonight. 

“I’m pretty sure this whole party is for you,” Adora argued back. ”You’re the one who overthrew Hordak’s regime–everyone here owes you their life! Including me.” She shook her head fondly. “The past doesn’t matter. You’re a different person, now… Lord Catra.”

Catra’s whole demeanor changed at the use of her new title. She cleared her throat and stuck her hands in her pockets, and… whoa… 

Was Catra blushing?

That was a first.

“Yeah, well. You’ve changed a lot, too,” she deflected. Her voice was rougher than before.  

“…In a good way, or a bad way?”

Catra’s gaze drifted over Adora, eyes smoldering. It sent off a panic alarm in her head. 

“In a really good way.” 

Suddenly, the lights dimmed around them while the band on stage transitioned into a slow ballad. Catra’s bravado evaporated and she smiled shyly, offering a hand out to her.

“For old time’s sake?” 

Adora’s heart skipped a beat.

“S-sure, why not…”

She placed a trembling hand in Catra’s sure one. Catra drew their bodies close and her pulse started to race like she was in the middle of a raging battle, yet the only threat was the beautiful girl in front of her. She found her other hand moving naturally to Catra’s shoulder as her partner rested hers on her waist.

“This okay?”

“Yeah, um. Totally.”

Adora let Catra take the lead. They swayed together for a while in silence, far from the activity of the ball. A part of her wanted to ask if Catra had known about Spinnerella and Netossa, but she knew where that conversation would take them, and she just couldn’t gather the nerve.

“So… What’s next for the great She-Ra?” Catra joked after a moment. She laced her fingers with Adora’s, colorful eyes shining in the darkness.

“Oh, uh–”

Words, Adora. 

“Well, the Alliance is preparing reparations for some of the kingdoms most affected by the war. So I’ll be traveling a lot, I guess.”

Catra hummed, a distant look on her face.

“Remember how we used to sneak up to the roof at night, just to see the skyline? Wondering what was out there?” 

The thought made Adora smile sadly. “Honestly… I try not to.”

Catra slid a hand around her back and rubbed soothingly, and Adora leaned into her warmth, heart rate slowing by the second.

“What about you? Any big plans now that you’ve got a whole city to rule?”

“Actually…” Catra chuckled. “I think I might be coming with you.”

Adora pulled back to look at her.

“You… are?”

“I mean, there are some loose ends to tie up. But I hope so. I have a lot to make up for,” she murmured, voice tinged with regret.

A hundred emotions flashed through Adora, but the overwhelming one was happiness.

“So we’ll be seeing a lot of each other, then,” she beamed.

Catra gave her a strange smile, like she was confused and amazed at the same time. Then her eyes fell to her lips, and she tilted her face closer, and Adora’s brain kind of short-circuited.

“That was part of the plan…”

Abruptly, the music changed into an upbeat dance song, causing them both to jerk back a little. 

…Why, God? Adora begged internally. 

Catra just laughed once, as if resigned. She stepped backwards and took an elegant bow like a gentleman would.

“Thank you for the dance, princess.”

Holding Adora’s gaze, she lifted her hand to brush a tender kiss across her knuckles, leaving her a speechless, flustered mess. And without another word, Catra turned to go. 

Adora felt paralyzed as she realized what the epithet reminded her of–Netossa’s proposal. Something stirred deep inside her, coming to the surface after years and years of being trapped in darkness. It made her terrified and brazen all at once. Was she really just going to stand there and watch dumbly as the girl she loved–had always loved–walked away from her?

“Catra?”

“Huh?–“

She’d barely turned back around when Adora grabbed her by the jacket and pulled Catra’s lips to hers in a desperate, earth-shattering kiss. 

She had absolutely no idea what she was doing, but Catra responded passionately, pulling her flush against her and surrendering to Adora’s fire while also somehow laying claim to every part of her. Heat scorched through her veins and she thought she might actually be dying but her pounding heart insisted otherwise. Catra melted into her, sighing Adora’s name reverently against her lips, and Adora parted them for her, longing to take in as much of her as she could–longing to make up for all the years that the world had forced them apart. Her tongue grazed Catra’s and she nearly fell apart. 

She felt Catra smile, then, and pull back gently, out of breath. Catra touched their foreheads together and caressed Adora’s face as she finally opened her eyes.

“Hey,” Catra breathed.

Adora bit her lip. “Hey.”

“We’re gonna get kicked out.”

Oh. She had kind of forgotten where they were.

“They can’t kick us out… we’re the heroes,” Adora pouted.

Catra broke out in a grin—a beautiful, euphoric, carefree smile that Adora had never seen on her before. It filled her heart with wonder.

“Don’t be mad, but I might know somewhere quiet we could go… I still have this place mapped from when I, uh. Attacked it.”

Adora rolled her eyes. “Oh, great. That doesn’t ruin the mood or anything.”

Catra smirked, not looking quite as ashamed as Adora would’ve liked. She leaned in and brushed her lips up along her jaw while trailing a hand from the back of her neck to her chest. Adora thought she might combust when she felt Catra’s hot breath on her ear.

“Let me get you back into it…”

(Okay. So. Maybe she could give this whole “romance” thing a try.)

————–

Spinnerella smiled, watching the two girls run off together hand in hand.

“Ahh, young love…”

“You meddler,” Netossa accused.

“I only helped them along!”

She laughed and drew Spinnerella close. “Wish I had a gay guide when I was younger. I probably would’ve proposed sooner.”

“See? That’s why we have to start giving back, now.”

Netossa kissed her lovingly, and with the threat of war finally behind them after all these years, they had never been more excited for what the future held.

[stars-and-rose]

|Rise and Ruin| Chapter Two

Fandom: Thomas Sanders/Sanders Sides

Pairings: Eventual Prinxeity and Logicality

Summary: Virgil is told the story behind the silent kingdom, and has to make a choice. Why did he decide to deliver again?

Word Count:  2585

Trigger Warnings: Cursing, Talking of manipulation 

<<Previous Next>>

Chapter Two: It’s Written in the Stars

   “Is he going to arise soon?”    “I think so, I can feel his heartbeat quickening.”    Virgil’s eyes fluttered open, peering out at the stormy sky above him. His back was cold against what he believed was stone, and God, his head hurt. It felt like someone had swung a hammer against his skull over and over and over again. A groan escaped his lips and he tried to sit up.    “Hey, hey, kiddo, I need you to lie back down for a second.” A soft voice muttered directly into his ear. “We managed to get you to drink one of the healing potions we found in your bag. Sorry, about that by the way,  I kinda freaked out when you fainted and because I really can’t do anything else like this I panicked and searched in your bag-”    “Patton. Breathe.” Another voice commanded. The first speaker, whom Virgil assumed was named Patton, took in a few shallow breaths. Virgil felt a tingling against the back of his head- the potion was starting to work. A few moments later, the pain became manageable, and Virgil sat up.    Then, he remembered why he had fainted. He turned his head, and sure enough, the falcon and the cat- which at a closer angle, Virgil could identify as a calico- were sitting next to him. And still, there were no other humans in sight, which meant-

   “You talked.” Virgil couldn’t help the words that escaped his lips.    “Indeed we did.” The falcon muttered, his voice deeper than the voice that Virgil identified as Patton- which meant Patton was the cat.    “Sorry if we freaked you out.” Patton apologized. “My name is Patton, this Logan.” The cat gestured with his paw to the falcon. Virgil's mind was spinning, but he managed to say, “My name is Virgil,” before his thoughts overwhelmed him. Though, this time his mind spun at a speed where he could still think. He was talking to animals, and Virgil’s magic didn’t include that natural talent. Nor did he have an enchantment that would have allowed him access to that magic. There was a third option, but it was both absurd and the only realistic idea he had. “You’re cursed.” Now that he had thought about it, he could sense the magic surrounding the two.  He could even see it if he tapped into his own magic- faint sigils surrounding the falcon and the cat, the markings glowing in a shade of yellow that reminded Virgil of the foxgloves in his mum’s garden- seemingly harmless, but surprisingly venomous. “Yes, yes we are! Logan, I told you! He’s a warlock, he knows about curses and maybe he can save Roman and the kingdom-” Virgil shifted in his cloak, something in his gut going hard. Patton, who seemed to notice this, stopped midway through his sentence. “Goodness, sorry kiddo, I got carried away there.”     “It’s fine,” Virgil mumbled, his hand reaching for his earring, the cold metal against his hand grounding. He couldn’t help but suspect he had opened a can of worms that could possibly explain the strange silence of the town. “What happened?”    “Are you referring to the state of the village, or how Patton and I became cursed?” Logan asked.    “Both, I guess? Something tells me they’re connected.”    The falcon seemed to nod- goodness, the insanity of this situation was starting to settle into Virgil’s brain. “That would be correct.”    Patton looked up at Virgil with eyes that clashed like the sky they’d stolen their color from. There was sadness and grief and loss and happiness and relief and an indescribable amount of raw hope in Patton’s eyes. Hope in Virgil? “Well, kiddo, do you want to hear the tail of the Curse of Craea?”    As Logan let out a groan and muttered about the pun, Virgil did a double-take. "The Curse of Craea- I didn’t even know Craea was cursed, no one’s ever mentioned it.”    “You haven't heard anything because he does not want outsiders intruding with his plans.” The way Logan said he, with such a strong amount of contempt, Virgil’s heart clenched.    “He? Who's He?”    “I think we should start at the beginning," Patton said.  "About six months ago, the Kingdom was celebrating the Queen's birthday with the usual celebrations- two days of festivities ending with a ball. Even though the ball was for the queen, everyone’s attention was on the Crown Prince. Within a year, Prince Roman would be ascending to the throne, and he still wasn’t married.”    “Because he is stubborn and believes in marriage for true love only,” Logan grumbled.    “You know why, Lo,” Patton said softly, meeting eyes with the falcon, before continuing the story. “With that knowledge, every noble in the kingdom was offering their children to court the prince. But he wasn’t interested- he knew that most of them only wanted the crown or the riches that came with the title. At the very best, they wanted the prince for his beauty.”    “Then about halfway through the night, the prince stepped onto the balcony, wanting some fresh air. He was greeted by another man already standing in the night. The two struck up a conversation, and the prince felt something in his chest grew warm. The flames grew even hotter when he realized the man didn’t realize he was the prince. Eventually, the prince invited the other man to dance, and they danced the night away. It was clear to see; the prince was in love.”    “It was less love and more of an infatuation. The man was the first person to seem interested in Roman and not Prince Roman.” Logan said, his voice a bit less hard.    The feeling in Virgil’s gut twisted even tighter. “Something tells me this story doesn’t have a happy ending.-”    “Your intuition serves you correct.”    Patton let out a sigh. “Roman’s two closest friends- the castle’s head scholar and the son of a lord who was serving as the medic’s assistant- they both knew something was off about the stranger. The head scholar had the high intelligence to see that something was wrong-”    “-And the lord’s son was an empath in all senses expect magical, and he could sense that the man had devious plans,” Logan stated. The words were the softest ones Virgil had heard come out of Logan’s mouth.    “The duo warned Roman of their fears, but he was starstruck. He pleaded with his friends to ‘Let him have this,’ and asked them to give the stranger a chance. He told them that their intuition could be wrong, even though the prince knew it had never been wrong before.” Patton sighed. “I think he knew even then it was wishful thinking.”    “They told the prince they would not interfere, but their concerns grew until they had no choice other to investigate.” Logan continued. “At first, the two found nothing wrong with the man's intentions. They thought that maybe the prince was right and that their intuition was wrong. Then, the Lord's son caught the man's eyes glowing yellow. The man had magic, but the color of the glow pointed towards sorcery.”   Virgil nodded. The eyes were the gateway to the soul, after all. People unconsciously revealed their true emotions and intentions through their eyes. Magic users could even be identified by their eye colors- vivid green, dramatic blues, and shades of violet showed that the user was aligned with light magic, and deep reds, dark oranges, and glimmering yellows disclosed darker magic. Glamors covering eyes were the hardest spells to cast.    Patton picked up where Logan left off. “They couldn’t be certain, though- it could have been a trick of the light or something. After a few days of careful investigation, they caught the man talking to a shadowy figure, boasting on how he had the prince wrapped around his finger, and how he’d soon have the kingdom of Craea under his control. The two were about to flee and tell this to the prince, but the Lord’s son tripped.”    “The two were caught by the man, who was revealed to be a sorcerer at this point. The sorcerer’s hands began to glow the same yellow as his eyes. Who knows what he would have done to the duo if he had been given the opportunity, but, as fate had it, Roman stumbled onto the scene. He instantly threw himself in front of his friends and stared down the sorcerer with his eyes filling with tears. The sorcerer tried to placate him, but the heartbroken prince knew his friends had been right all along. With a heavy heart, he ordered the sorcerer to leave the kingdom, and to never return, as he was no longer welcome.”    Patton took a shaky breath, and Virgil noticed how downtrodden the Cursed looked, his blue eyes looking towards the ground, and ears flattened. If he had still been human, Virgil guessed he would have been crying. Logan picked upon his companion's sadness and continued telling the warlock the story.    “As soon as the words left the prince’s mouth, the warlock’s demeanor shifted. He stopped pleading and a malevolent light entered his eyes. He bent down on one knee, and pulled out a gold band with a yellow stone trapped in the metal, and ordered the prince to marry him. The prince repeated his early statement, and the sorcerer threated that he would curse the kingdom. The prince wrapped up with his heartache and anger, let out hysterical laughter, and told the sorcerer, ‘You wouldn’t dare.’ ”    “ ‘You’d be surprised, what I’m willing to do.’ “ Patton mumbled. “That’s what the sorcerer said in reply. Roman denied him again. It wasn’t just about his broken heart. He knew that agreeing to the sorcerer would doom Craea. A wicked ruler leads to a wicked kingdom, and the prince knew accepting the proposal would give the sorcerer a direct route to power.”    “As soon as the prince denied him three times, the sorcerer stood, pocketing the ring. His eyes began to illuminate, and yellow smoke filled the room. The sorcerer's voice lilted through the fog. ‘The kingdom shall sleep on your decision-”    “-and you shall sleep with it until you agree to me.’ “ Logan interrupted. “Suddenly, the prince fell to the ground, eyes shut tight. His friends ran to his side, but the sorcerer had different plans. He directed his hands towards the duo and proclaimed that if the two hadn’t interfered, that the prince would be his, and the kingdom with him. They deserved a different punishment.”    “ ‘Until the prince accepts my ring on his finger; until he accepts my hand in his, you shall be cursed to forms in which you cannot interfere’. “ Patton quoted. “The two passed out, and awoke outside in the forms of a cat and a falcon.”    “So the two of you are the prince’s friends,” Virgil said, his suspicions confirmed. “I’ll guess Patton is the medic in training and the lord’s son, and Logan is the head scholar?”    “You are correct,” Logan confirmed. “After awakening in these unfortunate forms, we discovered the entire kingdom had fallen into a cursed sleep. For the last six months, we have been roaming through the sleeping kingdom. Animals are unaffected, and neither are monsters. We have not had any life-threating issues until the daemon.”    “Then you swooped in and saved us, kiddo! You defeated that daemon really easily. My mentor’s husband is the captain of the royal guard, and he’s told stori/es about how it’s taken multiple men and multiple warlocks to take one down! You did it single-handedly! You’re magic is really strong, probably even stronger than the sorcerer’s.” Patton exclaimed, some of the light returning to his eyes.    “They have reverse aura colors as well.” Logan mused. He was right again- they’d said the sorcerer’s eyes glowed yellow when he used magic, and Virgil’s aura was violet. Reversing auras took the most damage against each other. Red against green, orange against blue, and yellow against violet.    “You have to be the one that can save the kingdom!” Patton announced, startling Virgil. “Save you?” The young warlock repeated, his confusion a bitter taste on his tongue. “Indeed. I usually do not believe in something as vague as this, but you seem to be our only option. You have the skill, it seems.” “I’m not that skilled; I’m only eighteen.” Virgil protested. Virgil guessed that if Logan could, the scholar would have been arching a brow. “I do not see how your age plays into account. I was ten when I met with the head scholar and impressed her enough for her to take me on as an apprentice. Patton was twelve when he saved Roman from bleeding out after the prince had gotten hurt chasing after an imp. Age is only a mental barrier, disregarding it allows you to achieve what you desire.” "I'm still not that skilled." Virgil defended. "Falsehood. You heard Patton; taking down the Daemon was not an easy feat to accomplish by one's self. And you managed to slay the beast and without major injury as well. I do not like the idea of dragging you into our dilemma, but I do believe you might be our only hope." "I could go get my Mum! She's a talented witch, she could help you!" "Kiddo, I think you've got what it takes to help us. I'm also not a fan of bringing you into this mess, but I really think you can save us!" Patton walked over to Virgil, placing his paws on Virgil's knees. "Why do you think so lowly of yourself?" "Why do you think so highly of me? You know nothing about me- you met me an hour ago!" Virgil countered, crossing his arms and glaring down at the cat. "Well, you saved us when you could have just run away to keep yourself safe. And even after that, you stayed and healed Logan, which put you at risk because you used so much magic. You stayed and listened to our story, even when it became crazy and unbelievable. Plus, I just know it!" Patton's voice became soft. "My intuition has never been wrong..." Virgil considered what the other had said. The words were heartwarming, that the cursed man could like him that easily. Though, Virgil had a suspicion that Patton could like anyone. The warlock turned to Logan. The falcon had his head tilted slightly, watching his friend interact with Virgil. A curiosity formed in Virgil's mind, and he blurted out, "What about you?" Logan turned his turned to meet the warlock's eyes. "Pardon?" "Do you think I could save Craea?" "I believe it's possible. Patton made several valid points towards your character, and as I already mentioned, you have proved yourself as a talented warlock. I also agree with Patton's intuition." Virgil let out a shaky breath. He had to be dreaming, right? He pinched his arm and winced as subtle red blossomed under his fingers. Not dreaming. His heartbeat began to quicken, and he took in a sharp breath. He was in control here. Not his fear. His mind dropped back to a question he often visited when in doubt: What would his parents do? The answer came easy. They'd both help. If his other could cross a border with a baby while running for her life, and his mum could face dragons by herself, he could do this. "All right. I'll help you. Let's save your kingdom."

TAGLIST

@sanders-trash-4ever

@ilovemygaydad

@icequeenoriginal

@ooftothedab

@ccecode

@agirlinthegalaxy

@analogicallythinking

@kaileah-kat

@residentanchor

@soft-transboy

@no-no-no-no-6

@literally-logicality-trash

@kitkat-the-muffin

@planetkookie

@mac-and-art

[atlas-of-a-human-soul]

The King of Hearts (E.D. AU)

Summary: What happens when a future king falls for a commoner while he’s betrothed to another?

Warnings: mostly fluff, mentions of death and blood

Word count: 4000

Series MASTERLIST 

In a country now surrounded by ice, far away, stood an old, black castle, a stark contrast to its surroundings. Inside the castle, the royal family presides, waiting out the harsh winter and the cold it brought.

The Dolan family.

They ruled over their country with a firm, but fair hand, holding their position for centuries. A picture perfect family, no scandals recorded since the start of their reign.

Well, that was about to change.

Holding a feast to celebrate the arrival of their guests, King held a grand dinner in the castle, inviting everyone to attend, even his servants and commoners.

Princes sat around the table, joking around like they always do, bickering about who would win if they truly crossed their swords together, but hoping to never truly find out.

I stood in the shadows, holding on to my new, almost royal looking dress. Saving up for years to buy material for something proper in hopes of attending a ball and seeing the royals just once in my life. I've worked with my mother as a seamstress for years before she died, and the dress I wore was of my own making.

The color purple to signify my support of the royal house, but a waistline as white as snow that kept the winter present since as long as I can remember. The neckline was low, but not as low as many ladies wore...after all, I had my dignity in mind and virtue to keep. My hair let loose with curls cascading down my back, a single braid serving as a mock crown, beads and violets bred in the royal garden decorating it. Light make up to keep up the pretense, but an intense, burgundy red lipstick for effect. Feet in white flats, shimmering as my dress in the light, I looked almost like a highborn, worthy to be in their presence.

Gliding my gaze over the crowd of town folk, my eyes remained on the table before us, a little above the rest to show their stature. After all, they weren't commoners and should not sit among us. Most looked to the King and Queen, wanting to get in their favor. Young men looked at Cameron, all wishing to be her chosen one. However, she was to be married off to a wealthy Lord in Europe, a union good for the realm.

But every girl, young or old, had eyes only for the princes. Twins as luck would have it. Girls swooned over their good looks, fought to be in their line of sight, even went as far as pulling their dresses down so much that their breasts were almost visible. All that just for one look in their direction. They didn't care which one, as they'd say: „They're the same anyways. Just get me one.“

How foolish of them.

When I looked at the twins, I did not see just one person. Sitting on the left side, by their father, both brothers seemed to be far more interested in holding a conversation with one another than to look at desperate girls flinging themselves at their feet.

Prince Grayson held his head high as he was happily betrothed to a Princess of a country a little down south called England. After all, they sang songs of her beauty, but more importantly of the power and wealth her family held. He didn't spare the crowd a single glance, his dark brown eyes set either on the food or his family. His hair was longer, bangs styled backwards so they stood tall as he did. Sharp jaw, a couple of small scars graced his face, but he bore nothing that could disgrace his beauty. He truly was as handsome as I've heard in the tales.

Next to him was Prince Ethan; the next king of our realm, the heir to the throne. His eyes bore tension only a future king could bear, thousands worries etched in each line of his gorgeous face. His smile small, but always present, never quite reaching his eyes when he interacted with other noble men and women. It was a pleasantry, one he didn't care much for from what I could tell. His hair was neatly combed, differing from what I've been told by those who have seen him outside of official events for the kingdom. They said his hair is unruly and wild, just as his spirit. Perhaps that was true once, but the man sat at the table now felt weighed down by the future he was to have. That's enough to make anyone mature in a matter of moments.

Like his brother, Ethan was also to wed a Princess, the heir of the French throne. That meant either peace or war for the Dolan twins, regarding the wretched past between the two countries they were meant to inherit by marriage. It was hard to imagine the brothers ever doing harm to one another, but power is fickle and turns the best of men corrupt and wile.

Aware this night would be a bust as everyone danced and had fun, I couldn't keep my eyes from the heir. Not just because of his good looks, but because in a way, I felt sorry for him. He was forced to live a life he never wanted; they told him what to wear, what to eat, how to behave...who to love...He could never truly make a choice for himself, follow his heart. To live that sort of a life must have been torture...One he learned to accept and live with.

From the corner of my eye, I noticed a ruckus. Two armed guards unsheathing their swords as several men decided to play hero and assassinate the royal family. Some screamed, most ran, leaving the sight clear for all those who wondered what was happening.

I didn't move, even as the fight was brought to me. Men fighting, men dying before me, yet I dare not move. No, I was not afraid. I was furious. Once in every ten years, commoners were allowed at court, yet these imbeciles decided to ruin that and get us banned...and for what? A failed attempt to kill those who have ruled over us and brought prosperity even in the winter we were forced to live in. Better yet, I was ready to protect those people as well.

Reaching under my skirts, I grabbed a dagger from a belt suspender made out of purple lace. Shifting in my spot, I had seen a sword fall to the floor with a loud clank. Taking it, I ran it into one of the rebels stomach, blood spluttering from his lips onto my neck. But I didn't mind. Turning swiftly, I took care of yet one more who had planned on sneaking behind a guard and slitting his throat. Two men down, my hands dripping with blood, dress stained beyond help, I stood in the middle of the room, chest heaving as my heart beat to a rhythm I've long forgotten.

Adrenaline coursed through my veins, hands gripped on my choice weapons tightly. I didn't need to look up to see that every eye in the room was on me, watching intently what I'll do next. Some probably hoped I'd carry on the attack myself, others just wanted the whole thing to end.

Sucking in a deep breath, I slowly lift my eyes off the ground and dare to make eye contact with none other than Prince Ethan himself. The surprise mixed with utmost wonder in his eyes had taken the very breath from my lungs.

Tearing my eyes from his, I look to the King, hoping I'd be allowed to keep my head after the little stunt I pulled. But the rebels got too close and I was not one for waiting. It's not how my father taught me.

Holding my head high, I released the sword from my right hand, but the dagger remained in place. Taking a handful of the fabric my dress was comprised of, I wiped it clean. Slowly, moving the dress all the way up to my upper thigh, I sheathed the dagger in its place, letting the dress fall down to the stone floor.

Unexpectedly, the King brought his hands together, clapping loudly as he stood up with a large grin on his face. The entire room followed, but I only cared for what his son did. Shifting my gaze to Ethan once more, I saw his eyes didn't lose the impressed, almost admiring look he showed previously. I had his attention, that much was sure.

„On the behalf of the royal family, I'd like to express my gratitude.“ The King spoke, loud and clear for everyone to hear while I stayed put in my spot, feeling the blood on my neck and chest like drops of fire burning through my skin.

„I was just doing my duty, Your Grace.“ I spoke, my voice void of all emotion; cold and calm as I seemed on the outside.

„Oh, but you did so much more. Where did you learn to fight like that?“ The King asked, very much interested and entertained, like the entire thing was just a show in a theater.

„My father was a knight in your guard. He failed to see the difference between teaching his sons and teaching his daughters. After all, we were all his children.“ I respond, my heart breaking as I remember my father. He was brave and thoughtful, selfless and loyal. A man ahead of his time, that's for sure. Since the first day, he had treated me as an equal to my brothers, teaching me to write, read, fight. He wanted me to be able to protect myself, come what may.

„Oh, which one is that?“ The King furrowed his brows, wondering who I belonged to.

„Ser (Y/F/N) (Y/L/N). He died in the war fighting alongside you.“ I felt my cool dissolve, but refused to let it be seen by the gathered crowd. No one seemed to care that there were at least eight dead men bleeding on the stony ground they stood on.

„I remember him! He saved my life!“ The King exclaimed, recognition flashing in his eyes.

„Just as you did now!“ He adds, turning to his wife. Looking back at me, he propped his head up on his hand, head tilted slightly to the right.

„You may ask anything you wish of me. Anything...If it's within my power, I shall grant it.“

The offer certainly allured me, even brought upon me something I never thought I'd want. A wish for stature and a position of power.

„I wish to be a lady of the court. Your ward to be exact.“ A series of loud gasps filled the room as I kept a stoic facial expression, not breaking the eye contact with the king...no matter how much I wanted to look to Prince Ethan for his opinion.

The King didn't show any emotion at all, nor offer any insight in his mind through his facial expression upon hearing my words.

„Only that?“ He questioned, almost disappointed with my answer.

I chuckle dryly, averting my gaze to the right before focusing it on the King once more. Clasping my hands together, resting them on my stomach, I respond.

„What? You expected me to ask for your son's hand in marriage?“ The room was still with words I spoke, but I couldn't hold back a giggle. A giggle that echoed the room as no one dared to move.

„I may be a woman, but I'm not a silly girl with silly notions. You'd never grant something like that. I'd have asked to be a knight in the future king's guard, but even that is beyond what I'd be given. So, yes. I wish to be made a ward of the court, a noble lady.“ I finish, hardening my gaze as the King nodded with pursed lips.

I felt another pair of eyes burning into me as I stood before them all. The ferocity of just one look causing a flutter in my chest. There was no need to search for who the eyes belonged to as I could tell Ethan had kept his gaze strictly on me since the whole ordeal happened. And I liked it.

„Granted.“The King nodded in thought, perhaps debating my so called silly notions.

With those words, I was made a noble. One who would never be allowed to forget she's a commoner, but a noble nonetheless.

„May a servant clean you up...and this floor. You can borrow a dress from Cameron and return to the feast. A seat will be made for you.“ The King spoke, several servants running up to me, ushering me out of the room and to the west wing of the castle where the royal sleeping chambers were.

It took us a couple of minutes of almost running to get to a room lit by candles. It was huge...as big as the house I live in. But inside, everything was made out of wood...carved to perfection.

The girls started to undress me, startling me.

„Whoa, whoa. What are you doing?“ I asked, eyes wide and lips parted in shock.

„Cleaning you up as the King requested.“ One spoke up, not meeting my eyes.

I sighed, not wanting the girls to fear me. After all, I was one of them just moments ago.

„Can you get the blood out of my own dress?“ I turned so they'd have an easier access to the back of my dress, feeling their fingers already undoing the knot I tied to keep it from opening.

„I can certainly try, my lady.“ The same girl spoke, her voice quiet and words carefully chosen.

„You don't have to call me that. Not when we're alone.“ I smile as another one wipes the blood from my chest, the third one dealing with my hands. They were quick and efficient, already showing me dresses to pick from. I went with a red one this time around, not really caring how I look anymore.

They laced it up and stood around, staring in awe. I didn't have to look down to know my cleavage was exposed more than before, the light, cold breeze had told me that in an instant.

„You look stunning.“ They said in unison as I blushed with the compliment.

„But we must go.“ With that, I was rushed back to the crowd, earning yet another clap as I entered. I had hoped it would go unnoticed, but everyone seemed eager to welcome me. Smiling softly, I stood aside and waited for the crowd to disperse. I wasn't interested in taking the seat so kindly set between the Princes and the Princess just yet, wanting to experience tonight to the best of my ability.

The room was spotless, no blood in sight. Music played a happy tune many townies loved, but it suddenly shifted into one only royals could dance to. The King and Queen stood from their seat, taking the dance floor. Others joined them, but dancing was never my best suit. However, this was more about me not having someone to dance with.

„Would you care to dance?“ Someone spoke and I turned swiftly, frightened by the sudden presence. My mind stopped as I looked to the stranger, only to find it was actually a prince.

„Prince Ethan!“ I yelped, curtsying to the best of my ability. I didn't even finish my attempt before his hands held onto my elbows, pulling me up to face him.

„No need for that, Lady Y/N.“ His voice, deep and low, sent shivers down my spine like I have never felt before.

„You're a prince after all. It's common curtsy.“ I defended my actions, blushing furiously under his relentless gaze. There was kindness in his eyes, but the mischievous glint seemed to outshine everything else.

„And you're a lady now. You bow only to the king.“ Ethan reminded me, his hands still on my arms, slowly trailing down to my own hands. Gently taking them in his, he lifts my right one to his lips, pressing them into the skin on the back of it, never once breaking eye contact. I gulped nervously.

Why must he be so intense all the time?

„So, you never answered my previous question. Would you care to dance?“ He repeated, not letting go of either of my hands and I was grateful for not shaking like a leaf in the wind under his touch.

„I'm more of a fighter than a dancer, really.“ I mussed, shyly averting my gaze to the floor.

A touch of his index finger on my chin and the cold sensation in my hand as he released it brought my attention back to the handsome man before me.

„I'll lead.“ He guided me into the dancing crowd, his hand on the small of my back as my heart thumped so loudly I was certain everyone could hear. Once in the center of the room, his palm pressed against my waist, while the other held my hand in the air. He moved impossibly close, the wine on his breath easily felt from our proximity. With one hand, he lifts me up and rests my feet atop of his, a smirk on his lips as I look down with a thousand questions in my mind. Moving his feet and both of us in that moment, his grip on me tight, yet gentle, we danced like one. I'd never been a good dancer, but for the first time in my life I was doing just that...dancing.

One song after another, the Prince refused to let me go, dancing with no other and arousing suspicion in the court. He ensnared me with his gaze, whispered compliments in my ear and I had become sure this was nothing but a dream. How else could this be possible?

His words rang in my ears, each bringing a warmth to my heart and a smile to my face.

„You're one of a kind.“ He'd whisper, getting only a roll of my Y/E/C eyes in return.

„And you're just a charmer.“ I'd retort, raising an eyebrow to his fake shock.

„No, just an honest prince. After all, I'm not the one who lied about his dancing skills.“ He teased, arching an eyebrow as well. God, how sexy he looked when he did that!

„You're the one dancing! I'm just holding on for dear life.“ I chuckle, raking my nails over the exposed skin on the back of his neck to remind him of that.

He rolled his eyes, nodding lightly before letting me go. I had thought it was the end of it, but he captured my hand in his, pulling me out of the room as the King ended the dinner just as we walked out.

„What are you doing?“ I turned around, starting to worry of his rush and firm hold on my hand.

Just as I asked, Ethan pushed me against the wall, each of his hands resting by my head, his forehead leaned on mine as he breaths heavily. I was captured, unable to move.

„Prince?“ My voice was quiet, perhaps the fear inside ever tangible. I could not fend for myself and risk hurting the Crown Prince, but I wasn't about to let him defile me.

„I hate my life.“ He spoke, surprising me with this admission. I wanted to move, caress his face or run my fingers through his hair, but I couldn't. I was paralyzed.

„I must marry another, yet I had fallen for you.“ His voice trembled, no longer a picture of confidence he wore the entire night. I suppressed my need to speak as he was breaking before me.

„What have I done to be punished so?“ He kept talking and my resolution to remain quiet disappeared.

„You aren't in love with me. You barely know me.“ I spoke up, reminding him we had just met and only spoken once. I wasn't a firm believer in love at first sight, even if my own father claimed to have fallen for my mother in such a way.

„You are brave and feisty, capable of handling several weapons. You have a mind as sharp as a diamond, tongue as sharp as the blade you wield. The smile you flash is always sincere, your touch brings warmth to my cold heart. I do love you.“ Ethan moved his forehead, boring his eyes into mine. It was heartbreaking to see the defeat in his eyes, my own reflection clear within as the candle lit up his hazel hues.

Hm...I always thought his eyes were brown.

„You are betrothed to the next Queen of France. You are to marry a country, not a woman. Someone with power and wealth and armies.“ I spoke, sneaking my arms around his neck for a small embrace. I needed to console him in some way.

„I'm a no one. No family, no power, no armies or wealth. Just a commoner.“ I spoke sadly, feeling my own heart ache even if I wasn't in love with the Prince. I could see how easy that would be... to fall for a man such as him. But I knew better. That's how people died.

„You're not a no one to me. You're a Lady...the King's ward.“ He trailed off.

„Queen of my heart.“ His words had left me breathless, yet my heart was beating wildly, moving my chest with every beat.

„I must ask you to take that back.“ I whisper, looking into his eyes but getting no answer.

„A future king should never go back on his word.“ He spoke with a broken smile, his left hand moving down to my waist, his lips nearing mine.

„And a maiden should never sell her honor for a couple of moments of passion.“ I move, using the now empty space as leverage.

„I'd never do that to you.“ Ethan spoke as I turned my back on him, confused about this turn of event. Mere hours ago, I was just a faceless girl in the crowd and now I had a Prince chasing after me.

„Perhaps...but your words speak of a much worse desire...Love is not something I take lightly.“ I respond, turning slightly to see his candlelit face.

It was almost cruel how handsome he was...unnaturally handsome.

„Neither do I.“ He stepped closer and I feel my entire body tense up with this gesture.

„Yet you speak its name in vain in a badly lit hallway to a woman you met only hours ago...while you're set to marry another when the time is right.“ I cock my eyebrow, folding my arms across my chest and straighten my back.

„Betrothed to another....that is true...But those arrangement fall through all the time. For all I know I could be betrothed to someone entirely different by tomorrow.“ Ethan let out a mirthless laugh, taking one step closer to me.

„Your father would have my head.“ I press my lips together as he nods.

„My father won't always be the king. Once I'm on the throne, nothing stops me from marrying who I want.“ Ethan points out, closing the distance between us quickly.

„Nothing but your word...“ I look away, feeling a weight on my chest...one I could not explain.

„True.“ Ethan whispers, leaning close, his lips brushing against my ear.

„But it was the word of my father, not mine, that closed the deal.“ Ethan moved back, his nose touching mine as his breath mingled with mine.

Close enough to touch, but miles away. That's how I felt. My own beating heart breaking over a love I denied myself, but deny it I must.

Reluctantly, I step back and out of his reach. The disappointment evident on his face, but understanding in his eyes.

Flashing a smile my way, he motions for me to look behind and I do, seeing a large door.

„It was an honor to accompany you to your room, Lady Y/N. Goodnight.“ He turned on his heel, walking away, but not before throwing a glance over his shoulder my way.

„Goodnight, Prince Ethan.“ I whisper softly, watching his retreating figure disappear around the corner, his footsteps still audible in the distance.

Tags: @perry--aesthetic​ @heeydolan​ @accalialionheart​ @peacedolantwins

A/N: So, what do you think? Should I make a series? Let me know, you know I love feedback :)

[oftripps]

“ –– wow. ”  it’s not so much a critique as it is a g-rated expletive. tripp forces a smile mid-chew and blinks. “ my tastebuds are screaming. gah–– uh, singing. singing. ”  he avoids swallowing and as ring-decorated fingers snag a napkin, wide eyes drifting to the tabletop as a small jingle breezes past tensed lips. “ ~ allergic to mushrooms ~ ”

or, alternatively: this is somethin’ new! the caspar slide pt. 2 !! & this time, it’s ‘bout to get funky !!  so i’m linc and this is tripp and he’s........ a trip, honestly, so let’s just... yeet on into this ––

( joe keery + 22 + muse 12 ) isn’t that phillip joel “tripp” goodman over there? i heard he joined faction: one after they got back to west ham. it’s funny, ‘cause they were only on the service trip because HIS BANDMATES DUPED HIM INTO THINKING THE SIGN-UP WAS FOR A WOODS-THEMED OPEN MIC GIG. hopefully they fit in there – they’re JAUNTY but also OUTRÉ. oh, i’m sure they’ll be fine.

out the door !  ( tripp goodman: a roadmap )

look up townie family in the dictionary and you’ll find a portrait of the goodmans directly beside. these folks have a looooong flippin’ legacy here in lil’ ole west ham, kansas. it all started with montgomery goodman, a good man, who helped west ham’s founders break ground on this midwestern charmer several centuries ago. and now, the goodmans still live on the same property –– a refurbished farmhouse ( now closer to mcmansion ) surrounded by five acres of roooooollin’ hills. once upon a time, they were farming folk. now, theresa and joel goodman run the town’s one and only veterinary clinic. 

honestly, growing up? tripp was a problematic kid. he’d take in frogs from the woods and start his own frog hotels. he’d sneak pets from the clinic to school who “ needed help learning their numbers ”. in class, he’d flick sunflower seeds at the backs of his peers’ heads and, when threatened with discipline, claim he simply “ wanted to see if they’d grow  ” .  so no, to answer your question–– tripp never really saw the real wrath warranted by his rulebreaking.

in fourth grade, he chose the saxophone as his required instrument. he caused such a commotion in his house, that his parents asked his teachers to suggest something quieter. the viola. the flute. the clarinet. the piano. instruments came and went,;instruments were quickly mastered and abandoned. because dear lord, how many times could they listen to the spongebob theme song played on woodwind ?!  on strings ?!  once middle school rolled around, little phillip joel knew his way around a whopping total of six instruments, a tally that would only grow in the coming years. eventually, his parents caved and allowed him to keep playing, so long as he respected instrument curfews. they gave song requests to avoid hearing the same pieces on repeat: the goodman household was probably the only one blessed with an oboe-and-beatbox rendition of under the sea. young phillip joel’s take on the issue was simple: not all heroes wore capes.

( tw: domestic unrest, mentions of violence ) theresa and joel split when tripp was 9. just seven months later, tripp’s mother moved in with her girlfriend: tripp’s guitar teacher, ms. lillith. tripp didn’t mind ms. lillith. she was chill. he came to find out she could knock back a chocolate milk almost as fast as he could, and she liked her grilled cheeses with swiss only. his best friend became a thirty-six year old woman who happened to be his mother’s girlfriend. and that was fine. he could dig it. but joel goodman? oh no. his family name was tarnished. the scandal was too much to bear. joel sued for full custody and nearly made it, thanks to hometown politics and loyalties. but then he made one fatal mistake: he crossed his own son.

at 10 years old, fifth grade phillip joel returned home to his father’s after school with three fingernails painted effervescent blue. sidney frasier made me so cool, he gushed as he put his colored nails on proud display. dad, aren’t i so cool?  the next day, his dad enrolled him in the town’s peewee football program. he returned home from his first practice with a black eye and a split lip. from a ball, the coach insisted. hit the poor fella square in the face, real strong. phillip joel put up a fight against football; it wasn’t for him. it conflicted with music practice. couldn’t he just play music with ms. lillith instead?

the custody battle persisted. they settled on a parenting schedule. joel contested, consistently, months later. and so the cycle persisted up until phillip joel’s 12th year, when he was knocked out cold on the football field. the broken ribs came from hefty tackles. bruises from the fall. concussion from the impact. but theresa spun it to her advantage: joel had since started coaching the middle school team. this was an instance of parental neglect. and, when the courts didn’t comply, she instructed her son to jump down the stairs. one broken ankle later, and joel goodman was accused of child abuse. his word against his injured son’s. the maneuver won theresa full custody. phillip joel has yet to forgive himself.

after the custody battle’s conclusion, joel stayed in town: but phillip joel didn’t want a thing to do with sharing his name. his mother still scolds him as phillip joel, but to everyone else, he became tripp –– inspired by his knack for, you guessed it!, tumbling over his own two feet.

in high school, tripp was the class clown. always smirking, always grinning, always ready to catch someone off guard. he became a pivotal part of west ham high’s jazz band, and even formed a small group with a few buds: face. they played some school events: homecoming, pep rallies, prom. garage-baked young rock, their songs often preached meetings under bleachers and high school never ending. 

in senior year, the band saw a reboot: and after assuming a more indie, spacey sound and a nifty new name –– 1757. –– they saw a rise in local celebrity. coffee shops commissioned them for jam nights. they played on the local radio. so they collectively decided to stick around and see how far they could ride this west ham fame train. with tripp as their frontman, they always leave a memorable impression: he’s not exactly the most run-of-the-mill performer.

1757.’s sound is reminiscent of LANY: i’ve reblogged a few tunes onto tripp’s blog for reference. he’s v much a paul klein / matty healy vibe. big into music. big into losing himself in it.

so what was he up to before the service trip? playin’ tunes. working part-time as a waiter. and brainstorming ways to get out of going on this trip, as soon as he realized his stupid bandmates lied about the form he signed. an open mic in the woods ! pah !  he should have known. but the concept sounded pretty flippin’ cool.

wear our shades on our nose, 'cause we're cool like that ( tripp goodman: the man, the myth, the ledge )

oh god, he’s  w e i r d .  he believes in goblins and ghosts and aliens ( oh my )!

still VERY VERY close with his mother. v broken up about not being able to get through to her, because it was about to be his parents’ wedding anniversary and they were going to anti-celebrate it with big slices of oreo cheesecake and setting things on fire.

how he feels about coming home to west ham: post apocalyptic version.

uhhhh... can he please get a waffle? specifically a cinnamon raisin waffle with extra cinnamon and a shit ton of syrup? actually. syrup with a side of waffles?

why he was banned from his personal twitter.

“ do you even lift, bruv? ”  * proceeds to pick up a teacup & lift his pinkie like a true knock-off british monarch, shitty accent included *

listens to wham! and glam rock. unironically.bluetooth speaker mounted on his bike. no helmet! like an absolute boss. he knows!! wild!! shades on. it’s 2am. it’s dark. but true swag obeys no clock.

catch him biking everywhere stranger things style, actually. his bike’s name is milo because he can roll on for miles. mess with milo and he’ll fuck u up. aka find out if you’re lactose intolerant and slip heavy cream into your meal.

has a strong vendetta against blue doritos. which might take root in some horrific experiences involving cheez wiz, cool ranch, weed, and the new york subway system at 4am on a tuesday. spring break freshman year of college. oof.

he has a lil drawwwwl. tease him about it. he’ll probably blush.

stress-hums chili’s babyback ribs without realizing. catch him singin’ that about to be murdered.

weapon of choice: kindness.

actual weapon of choice: baseball bat.

he will write little jingles to keep morale up. “ so we’re trapped / cash us inside / how bou’ dat ? ”

has a passion for introspective literary quotes. but... has somehow managed to learn each and every one wrong.

friggin’ loves superheroes even though he can’t be bothered to watch the films? he just… always used to get made fun of for liking comic books even though he never read them? “ arachnid man is uh...  heh. he’s pretty dope, huh? ” he embraces the falsehood. someone call him on it.

9/10 times if he’s in the gym, it’s just to eat his donut and watch pay-per-view movies on the bike for free.

apple pie can absolutely be breakfast if you try hard enough. jeez. get with the times, man!

he had a legitimate pet rock before going on this service trip. but has no idea where that bugger’s gone. probably got fed up with tripp serenading him with “ we will rock you ” at all hours of the night.

lawful good. will wave other drivers on forever.

got into an accident on his bike once. bitch broke his arm and he just kept on smiling.  “ no you have a nice day! and uh.... hey. mind if we like... call an ambulance? ”

low key feels like he’s the reason his parents’ marriage crumbled. low key guilty about it. low key wonders if maybe he lived up to his father’s expectations, he might have saved them a lot of grief.

give benny goodman by saint motel a listen and tell me that’s not his soul in audio form.

known for slightly hyperbolic storytelling.

pansexual as heck. falls in love. hard. it’s a mess. he can’t hide it. hence the shades.

he has brilliant hair. and it’s immortalized in his high school yearbook.

is hellbent on being a source of positivity in this terrible situation. can he interest you in a meme in these trying times? how ‘bout a granola bar? maybe a good ole game of mash?

he’s convinced this is an elaborate prank. or a social experiment. maybe aliens. but let’s not question it too much, let’s just.... have a good time? hakuna matata? no worries? lol where the twizzlers at?!

leaves a voicemail for his mother every morning and every night. maybe he cries. maybe.

he has one ear pierced because like.......... senior year of high school, he wanted to feel more cool.

allergic to mushrooms, shellfish, eggs, and harbingers of doom.

he truly boggles minds. just.... v out there? v spacey. he closes his eyes and drifts about on stage, fingers dancing on the keys, body moving in eclectic ways. he says “groovy” and fuckin’ means it. he dresses in prints inspired by grandma’s carpet. lots of half-buttoned flowy shirts, boots, tailored statement pants, dangly necklaces. he’s got his hands full of rings –– they symbolize milestones. and some are just, like... pretty. and one’s his mother’s old wedding band.

where the hell are my friends !  ( wanted connectz. )

i was gonna do a whole section on this and got lazy but like.... anything. all the things. good, bad, ugly, beautiful. hurt him. make him suffer. but also support him a bit.

i imagine he’s got a solid squad goin’. he’s in faction one too, so... hmu for those.

i feel like he’d be pretty chill with the greeks? yeah bro, he parties. he’ll chill. he’ll crack open a cold one and pretend to understand what those letters on your jacket mean! pie-apple-fate-uh? cool stuff !

ride or dies. pls.

he needs someone to like....... melt his heart. maybe someone unexpected.

thisssss got long & disorganized but yes! let’s plot! let’s do this thang! #hype!!

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #194

“i’m numb to the pleasure but still feel the pain.”

Do you still talk to the person you last made out with? Yeah. What kind of vitamins did you take as a kid? I believe I first had those Flintstones ones, then later Mom got the gummy type. Have you ever gone to court? Only to explain to a judge why I thought my scheduled month-long stay in the psych hospital was unnecessarily long for my state. I was convinced all I needed to do was talk to Jason and boom, my problems would be gone. Safe to say, I was delusional. Glad I won that battle though considering I loathe that hospital for their extreme lack of therapy and activities to keep us occupied and out of our own heads. I was committed there I think five times and no stay did jack-shit. Are you friends with your neighbors? No. How long has it been since you’ve seen The Lion King? Years. But bitch when that live action remake comes out I'mma be the very first hoe at that theater. Have you ever had a crush on your siblings friend? No. What's the longest amount of time you’ve been on an airplane without changing flights? However long the flight to Michigan was. What’s the best wedding you’ve been to? My former dance instructor's. What time did you wake up this morning? Like, 7. What are you doing this weekend? There's no difference in weekends and weekdays for me. I'm sure I'm doing nothing. What’s your favorite Disney movie? TLK. Do you wear colored contacts? No, but honestly I'd love more sapphire blue ones if they're a prescription and not just cosmetic. Who was the last person you went to the movies with? I think Mom? Or did I go with Dad later? When’s the last time you spent time with your cousins? I haven't seen Robby since '15, but Audrey passed through with my uncle sometime last year. My other cousins, hell if I know. Why did you fall for the last person romantically? Good Lord, that's an essay. Just more than anything, I think it was the fact that she cares so deeply about animals and people alike and is passionate about what's right and wrong. Can you speak in a different language conversationally? If so, which language? I could maybe manage a very simple German convo? Do you ever fear falling asleep? No, but I do rather frequently don't look forward to it, or at least the process of falling asleep. I don't go quickly. What’s the last thing you had to eat? A bagel. Would you rather eat all day or exercise all day? I don't believe you physically could eat all day? And exercising, I'm assuming you'd eventually pass out? But let's be hypothetical. I'd have to choose exercise, I care way too much about not gaining weight. Does one eye tend to be weaker than the other? Yes, my right is considerably worse. What do you think of guys who ask girls out over via text message or internet? It's definitely not my preferred method, but do it if you don't have the courage to in person/just can't for whatever reason. Have you ever had a churro? I believe I have? If I'm remembering the correct treat, it was unbelievably too sweet and I didn't like the crunch. What’s one thing you like about your town? The town itself is real old-fashioned and small. Did you believe that alcohol is more dangerous then weed? I know it is. Do you drink more apple or orange juice? Orange. Are you a fan of the Grand Theft Auto series? Never played, but I highly doubt I'd enjoy it. Do you like the beach? If it wasn't for the wind, blistering heat, and sand. So basically, I don't. I only like being in the ocean. Do you or did you have a curfew at one point? No. Well, correction, if it was a school night before high school and I was out with a friend, I'm sure Mom established something, but idr. Do you peel the wrappers off of plastic bottles? No. What do you think is the youngest age someone should lose their virginity? No younger than 16. But at any age, be. Smart. Have you ever played Super Smash Brothers? I think at friends' as a kid? What do you like on your sundaes? Like, just chocolate syrup lmao. Have you done anything productive today? Well, I exercised some. Do you believe in abstaining from sex until marriage? What I care about is waiting for a person you feel truly in love with. I actually feel like abstaining could be a bad idea, as I'd assume for some people, the desire to have sex would play a factor in them wanting to get married, so marriage could potentially be rushed for the sake of that when you're not adequately prepared in other areas. What is your sexual orientation? Bi. Do you put your name on your food coverings? If I was using a fridge at a job or whatever, yeah, but I'm not in that type of situation. What is something you have acquired with age? Open-mindedness. Would you ever go out in public sporting pajamas? Depends on where I'm going. Have you ever ridden in a race car? No. Do you enjoy history? No. Have you ever changed religions? Twice. Is there anyone to whom you are afraid to stand up to? Mom. And pretty much everyone else. Do you like making lists? Sometimes. Do you play sports with your siblings? Never di- oh wait, Mom signed all three of us up for cheerleading as little kids. Hated it. Are there stairs in your house? No. Do you like onions on your burger? A small amount of minced pieces is fine. Could you ever give yourself a shot? Yeah. What is your favorite room to clean? I get the most satisfaction out of cleaning my own. Do you enjoy cleaning? Not the process of it, just the feeling afterwards. What do you consider your ideal weight? My /ideal/ would be around 120 again, but I'd be happy enough between 130-140. How many pounds do you need to lose (or gain) to be your ideal weight? LET US NOT What is your favorite thing about Valentine’s Day? Just it being a celebration of love, which to me, goes beyond just romantic. I think people should spend a little extra effort in letting one another know they really love each other. Now I believe every day you should treat people with love, but seriously focus on it and be thankful for those you have. If you wear one, what color is your wristwatch? N/A Have you ever made a pair of earrings? No. Who did you inherit your hair color from? I actually think Dad? Going through family pictures after Grampa died, I found out he was actually born dirty-blonde (I've only known him with black), like I was. Pretty sure Mom's was always brown. Have you ever wished that you were born in a different era? Woulda loved being born in the mid-early '80s. Do you prefer soft rock or hard rock? ....... I read "rock" as in like, minerals. And I was. Very confused. High on the list of my dumbest readings. Anyway, definitely hard. What was the best time of your life? As a kid. Do you prefer sunny or cloudy weather? Partly cloudy. How do you like your potatoes? For most of my life I only liked them as fries or as potato skins w/ cheese and bacon bits, but I'm gradually branching out. I like baked potatoes split with cheese and bacon inside too, and Sara's mom exposed me to the very first time I enjoyed mashed potatoes, yeet. So those have to be made a very specific, non-clumpy way. I also like hash browns, but not the shredded kind. Oh yeah, I live for the fiesta potatoes at Taco Bell too like gd good shit. Who’s your best friend? My babygirl. <3 If you don't count her, it'd be my mom, but if she's excluded too being family, I don't really have a best friend. Maybe Girt, idk. What’s a TV show you never miss? I don't watch any shows regularly. The one and only situation where I'd watch every episode ASAP is if Meerkat Manor came back. Have you ever lied about your gender? No. What are you planning on doing on your next birthday? Go out to eat with family, and though unlikely, getting a tattoo would be awwwesome. Do you know anyone else with your last name other than family? I don't think so? Is your favorite band still together? I actually just looked it up because I really wanted to know, and his band's still going, apparently! I thought this coming tour ("No More Tours 2") was the end, but apparently it's just the finale of his world tours. Where do you see most of your concerts? I've only been to one, which was in Raleigh. That's the most likely place we'd go to, though. Have you ever had escargot? Never in my life will I try it. Do you use Google every day? No. What was the last new food you tried that you thought was delicious? Oh my god in Heaven. So, for Christmas, my sis made these hot chocolate cream balls things she found on Pinterest, and literally, maybe the best thing I'd ever had. I just barely had enough discipline to not eat more than one lol. If you could invent a new holiday, what month would you put it in? Hm. Idk. Have you ever had a bedroom with a specific theme? No, I don't think so. If you had to design a room with a theme, what theme would you choose? Gothic, maybe with lil bits of pastel goth for some more personality. What was the best thing that ever happened to you? Realizing I can't just give my entire life to a person, losing any control over it myself. You have to allow yourself to be free; do not chain yourself to a single person. Have you ever given money to a homeless person? No. One, I don't have a source of income, and two, I'm perfectly aware what probably 99% do with it, especially because of my mom, who's pretty much made friends with the homeless on the side of the road, has learned each and every one use drugs or alcohol, so instead she buys them food frequently. That's something I would want to do, but I'm so paranoid of strangers, especially desperate ones, harming me for whatever reason that I probably never will. Do you like your hair better long or short? SHORT. OH MY GOOOOOD CUTTING MY HAIR SHORT WAS ONE OF MY BEST DECISIONS. Have you ever designed your own Facebook timeline cover? Yeah. What is one site that closed down that you wish would come back? Hmmmm. I don't really know. Well, the Animal Planet site still exists, but I wish there was still a dedicated MM section, y'know, with the forums and games and such. Really think it'd be nice if they kept little sections for all of their classic, better-known shows for old fans. Hell, I'm pretty sure MM was their most successful, why not keep remnants of it up there? Do you ever watch TV shows on YouTube? Rarely, if I ever watch a show. Foo Fighters vs. Red Hot Chili Peppers: Not a real fan of either, but I'd have to choose the former as I enjoy at least two of their songs. Have your parents ever complained about your hair? My mom was reeeaaally shocked and distressed when she arrived at the parlor when I got the "big" haircut and saw how much was gone (eight inches), but only because she was scared I'd hate it. Thankfully she really liked it when it was all said and done. Are you a fan of the Saw movies? Never really watched 'em. How did you decide on your Tumblr name? I'm a sucker for alliteration, and it's a survey blog. Do your friends have the complete opposite music taste as you? My closer friends, not really, actually. Do you ever forget how old your siblings are? I don't know any of my half-siblings' ages, and I forget how old Ashley is sometimes. I forget frequently if she's two or three years older than me. Do you tend to walk places more than drive? Ha, you can't walk to a destination here in the country. I only ever ride/rarely drive anywhere. Do you have any photos of you kissing someone? Yes. Do you ever hang out with your ex? Rarely with Girt. Would you like the ability to read minds? No, especially if you can't choose when it's "on" or "off." Even if you only choose when you do it, idk. Just... doesn't seem like a safe idea. Do you see the same people everyday? Lol that's usually just my mom, and yes. Have you ever made out on a couch? Yeah. Are you mad at anyone right now? No. It’s 4 in the morning, your phone rings, what do you do? Almost a guarantee I won't hear, considering it's on vibrate. Now if I did for whatever reason, ignore it unless it's a contact on my phone. Have you ever fallen backwards on a chair? I believe so, playing as a kid. Last time you laughed so hard you cried? I'm not sure, but considering I do that easily... Who last talked about kissing you? Sara. Who was the last thing/person you took a picture with? My kiiiitty. Did you speak to your father today? No. Would you ever get gauged ears? Definitely no. What aren’t you looking forward to? I really don't mean to sound all emo and whatnot, but I genuinely don't look forward to like every afternoon/early evening, as that's around when I hit my extreme boredom decline, which goes so low I feel death could maybe be more exciting. I am in no way suicidal, I just want this era of isolation, lack of purpose, and no progress towards a great future to end. My life's been at a stand-still for pretty much a year. Would you rather get your tongue or lip pierced? I already have both done. I find my snake eyes way cuter, but when I consider my outward appearance and what people generally see, I'd rather have my labret. What is your favorite personality trait? Kindness. What is the most romantic thing a significant other could do? Idk, but something with deep personal meaning for sure. When you are dating someone, what is the most important thing to you? There has to be a mutual, serious care for our relationship; my partner has to understand I'm not in for a fling. We both have to have the goal of forming and maintaining a healthy, long-lasting, meaningful relationship. If I feel being together is a game to you or just for a couple months of a bit of fun, bye. Would you be able to tell someone you love them, even if you didn’t feel it? No. Well, I do with my mom if she's pissed me off and I *feel* like I don't, but I know I do. If you were engaged, would you want a wedding as soon as possible? Not necessarily. I believe engagement is a stage where you're certain you want to get married in the not-so-distant future, but you have other important things to take care of first, like for example, buying a home and stuff like that. When in a relationship do you have to have contact with your partner on a daily basis? I wouldn't freak the hell out if you couldn't talk to me for a day, but I'd definitely want at least a little conversation, especially if we're serious. Do you believe in moving in together before engagement or marriage? Yes. You should know how you're going to handle being with your s/o every single day. Did you ever give a hickey to the last person you kissed or you guys didn’t go that far? Not yet. Is there anyone you want to come see you? Yeah. What was the last thing you saw that scared you? A video of this guy with his giant pet centipede like an idiot (super venomous) crawling all over him. Centipedes creep me the hell out, although at the same time I find them kinda cool. Is there something that’s happened today that you don’t want to ever go through again? No. Is the last person you kissed attractive? Yeah. Do you feel bored with your life? I think I've covered this enough. Who’s someone you miss that you haven’t talked to in years? Megan, more than anyone. Do you have severe withdrawals from medications? I don't think any were ever severe, but I was weaned off of them all I believed. Just honestly I've been on so many since 6th grade that I can't recall each one's ending. I only recall having shadow hallucinations when I was coming off one. What’s the most weight you’ve ever gained from a medication? Let's not talk about the subject I'm more bitter about than anything else in the entire world. Summary: Don't touch Abilify even if your fucking life depended on it. Do you have a doctor you can trust? My psychiatrist and therapist, very much so. I've only seen my new general doctor twice, so I can't make a fair judgment of her. Mom has a friend who sees her though, and she only has positive things to say about her. Do you pray? If yes, to whom? No. What do you miss about high school? A social life. Art class. What do you miss the most about college? Literally the one and only part I enjoyed at my first college was lunchtime, because Jason and I could spend time together, sometimes with his friends. Second college, nothing. It was online. Have you ever been the victim of a crime? I don't believe so? Is your life worse than you could have ever have imagined it to be? Or is it better, or just what you expected? Ohhhh man... As a kid, I was so sure I'd be amazing. Still had a bit of hope in middle school. High school and beyond, it's, so far, worse than I'd planned. What is the most beautiful landscape you have ever seen? Mountains. Driving through them is unreal. What is one place you have always wanted to visit? Idk about "always." But for the longest amount of time, it's been without a doubt South Africa. Who were your favorite celebrities as a child? Steve Irwin was and still is one of my absolute heroes. I loved Jeff Corwin, Jesse McCartney, Raven Symone, and the Sprouse twins, too. Do you prefer slow songs or fast songs? I'd say generally, faster. What color is your trash can? White. Who was your favorite family pet when you were growing up? We didn't really have a "family" pet, just ones one of us individually were particularly close to. I'd say the closest that qualifies would be Chance, our first cat. She was special. List five of your favorite YouTubers. You Already Know, GameGrumps, Shane Dawson, Daniel Howell, and Jeffree Star, but. I have so many jsfaqoweuoapsf. I wanna squeeze Rhett and Link in there, but while I still love them as people and creators, I've been losing interest in GMM over the months. What’s your favorite type of bird? Barn owls. I also love ravens though for their intelligence and personalities. What pet names do you use with your significant other? A lot, but I'd say either "sweetheart/sweetie" or "dear" are most common from me. I think. How would you describe your sense of humor? Sarcastic, I guess. Have you ever been a member in a band? No. Well, except school band. Have you ever watched yourself on video? Yeeaah, senior project was fun. But I know how I usually am well enough to say I honestly don't feel I did badly. Have you ever missed a flight? Yup. Never go to the O'Hare airport, jfc. Have you ever seen a lunar eclipse? Yes, and I hope to see the one this Sunday! Are you still in touch with your best friend from high school? No. Any animals whose behaviors you find particularly interesting? AHHHHHHH SO MANY!!!!! Social species' above all. Do you like animals better than most humans? Yes. What simple things in life bring you the most joy? Long car rides when I can play my iPod through the speakers and just go to another world. Sara singing, hearing my mom laugh. Seeing old couples holding hands in public kills me. How did you meet your significant other (if you have one)? YouTube. How did you meet your best friend? She's the same person as above. Are you friends with anybody you didn't like at first? Also see Sara lmao. Are there any musicians you didn't like at first, but grew on you? The first/most recent to come to mind is In This Moment. Is there anything you used to love, but now dislike? Peas as a kid. I'm kinda on the fence of liking or disliking PewDiePie as he is now (although I haven't watched too much of his newer content). Do you have any favorite books you'd like to have signed by the author? It'd be pretty cool for Ozzy to sign my copy of his autobiography, sure. Do you enjoy any of those old black and white horror films? Any one I've ever seen has been horrid, so I haven't seen many. What is your favorite yogurt topping? I loved those ones that had M&Ms in them. Where do you shop the most: Kmart, Target, Walmart, Fred Meyer, or other? Walmart or Harris Teeter. Have you ever done a craft project you saw on Pinterest? No. What beverages do you drink that contain caffeine? Soda. What has been the best experience you've had in a church? Uhhh. Oh, Jason's brother's wedding. Do you prefer that your nachos be spicy or not spicy? Obviously spicy. Have you ever had a kiss that felt magical? Mine and Jason's first was cute, but I don't recall if I thought it was "magical" because all I was focusing on was just how shy I was. First kiss with Sara was definitely more than special. Who is your best online friend? Sara once again. Who knows more about you: online friends or offline? Online, easily. Do you think that love makes people irrational? It can. What book, movie, or TV show did you find to be total garbage? Oh, I'm positive there's something, but nothing comes to mind. Is there a topic that is a sore-spot for you? Mental health and how it may affect your loved ones. Have you ever lost a friend over a guy/girl? Pretty much. Have you ever lost a friend because of a lifestyle change? Yup. Do you like kissing? The right person. What location holds the most memories for you? My childhood home. Hypothetically let’s just say you’re a supervillain. What’s your agenda? What are you trying to destroy and why? I would never want to be, but I suppose the most suitable for me would be punishing the person to break a promise somehow. Why, because I know just how agonizing broken promises can be. What’s your go-to topic when making small talk with others? How their day's been. When you get to be in charge of the tunes on a road trip or party - do you play what you want to hear or tailor the playlist to what you think the other people in the car/room want to hear? I do a mix of both. Thankfully, Mom and I like most of the same music, but I do learn what songs she doesn't like and avoid playing them unless I really wanna hear it. You have any bad habits you shamelessly don’t care to or plan to quit? Shamelessly, idk about that. There’s an app for everything. What apps consume the most of your time and energy? Facebook. The most overrated thing ever - what is it? I literally judge you if you have a bigass, obnoxiously loud truck. Compensating for something? The most underrated? Ummmm. Talking about pointless shit and doing nothing while enjoying your favorite person's presence is surely one. What’s something you find unconventionally romantic? Teaching your s/o how to play a game together and you both are enjoying it asjfaoswuw. One of my most cherished memories with Jason was that with Little Big Planet. Just in general I find it super cute to share what you love with each other.

[disenchantedhq]

Do you hear that, dear readers? No, it’s not the wild scribbling of this writers pen. It’s the sound of dozen’s of carriages being pulled down cobblestone streets to the costal town of Old Corona. It’s that time of year once again. Rapunzel herself is celebrating another year around the sun, and all of Corona is ready and waiting to send off hundreds of lanterns into the sky. And like always, the week long celebrating - a bit much, even for me - will conclude with a ball. 

I am not sure about all of you, but this writer is absolutely delighted at the idea of all the mischief and scandal that might occur during this week. After all, we remember what transpired during Mad Day, correct? Or perhaps we could all use a refresher as to what the nobles of Auradon have gotten up to in the past month?

Lord August Fitzherbert has officially returned from his time away. If you can recall, he was last seen abruptly leaving the Faerie Bacchanal with a solemn expression. It has still yet to be said what caused such an exit, but we’re confident it had something to do with Miss Theodora Le Bouff. She was the last person to speak to the Lord. But he was not the last person she spoke to. No, that was Mr. Damien Gothel. Miss Le Bouff seemed to be smiling and laughing at everything word exchanged with him throughout the night.

Other shocking displays we witness was not one, but two incredibly public kisses. Scandelous, is the only word that suits such situations. One was shared between an engaged pair, Lord Phineas Charming and his fiancé Miss Sonya Sudayev. The other, was a not so publicly entangled couple. Miss Sabine Facilier and Mr. Marcelo Clayton. Once again this author asks, what is the courting ritual like within The Shadow Realm.

Lord Eadric Pendragon grew very close, both physically and emotionally, to Miss Li Yue, and to no one’s surprise - especially this writers - the two announced a courtship close thereafter. Love was in the air for so many it seemed. Because after emerging later in the evening sopping wet, both Lark Andersen and Lady Gwendolyn Andersen nee Dallben, quickly announced their engagement. This writer still speculates the marriage was quite quick for a love match, but their families insist the two have been enthralled with each other since childhood. 

For the rest of the Bacchanal, most of the Ton was experiencing all that enchanted faerie food has to offer, thanks to the High Prince of the Faerie Court himself, Sevastyan Petit. He claims it was all in good fun, but this author is not so sure. After all, what would cause the prince and his courtier, Silverbell of Neverland, to have such a public disagreement that caused to two to have a second, very public disagreement at the wedding of Lord and Lady Andersen?

But enough speculation, and enough about Mad Day. What else has been occurring within Auradon in the past weeks? Well, Lord Citrouille has been entertaining a handful of women. His distant cousin, Miss Lydia Tremaine was seen leaving his office. Perhaps to make amends, or could there be something more devious there? He and Lady Drusilla White-Prince have also been seen a handful of times together. Once at the university library, and again at the Andersen wedding, talking in private. Could a possible courtship be on the horizon? What we find most confusing is that Lord Citrouille was seen leaving Miss Teddy Le Bouff’s house on one occasion, and this writer was under the impression that they did not get on well. Or... is that all a cover? 

What this writer finds to be the most shocking and intriguing information of that night is that the daughter of Maleficent and the daughter of sleeping beauty, Miss Faerilyth Moor and Lady Briar Rose Basille, were spotted chatting in the courtyard. And even more interesting, she escorted the daughter of Sleeping Beauty home that night. 

We will give a reporting on the interactions within the week. But until then, this writer will be enjoying the warm sun in Old Corona. Be on your best behavior, Auradon, or your worst. We will be here to see it all.

[alexandralyman]

Beyond the Horizon - Chapter 41

Fic Update

Beyond the Horizon:  AU: When Princess Emma's ship is captured by the Jolly Roger and Captain Killian Jones, she offers herself as a hostage for ransom if he will let the ship and the other passengers go. With Emma, Killian remembers the honour he once held dear, and Emma catches glimpses of the gentleman Killian had been. Against all odds, the pirate and the princess begin to fall for each other.

Read this chapter on ff.net here

                                            Chapter Forty-One

                                      Of Mermaids and Monsters

Her first kiss had been at fourteen, not long after her breasts had begun to swell to womanly roundness under the bodices of her gowns and the lords of the court (both unmarried and not) started to watch her much more closely when she entered the Great Hall behind her parents or took the floor to dance with her father at a ball. He was a knight, bold and boastful, the first who'd asked for her token to carry with him to the annual jousting tournament for luck instead of her mother's. Three years her senior, he was tall and handsome and when he'd bent down and his lips had brushed hers Emma had felt her heart beat faster under the laces of her new corset and the flutter of a thousand butterfly wings taking flight in her stomach. That night she'd watched the stars from her balcony for hours, her mouth still tingling from his kiss and her head full of dreams. A horse with a gleaming chestnut coat and polished armour shining bright in the sun...a red rose tossed to the victor from the royal box in front of a cheering crowd….walking down the aisle on her father's arm in a white gown with diamonds in her hair and the bells ringing throughout the entire kingdom in celebration.

She'd thought she was in love, that a few chivalrous words and a single, stolen afternoon alone together in the gardens was enough to be certain. But a lace handkerchief carefully scented with perfume filched from her mother's vanity wasn't enough to win a joust and her bold knight had left the field empty-handed, sullen, and withdrawn when she'd sought him out that night after the feast and tried to comfort him as best she could. They'd kissed again in the shadows, with the music and the laughter from the revels fading away as her arms had slid around his neck and he'd pressed her into the wall behind them, the cold stone somewhat rough on her back but she hadn't cared, not when her heart was full and her body was aflame in new, unfamiliar ways. He'd left her that night with a whispered promise that she believed, just as she believed that her father really was the most charming prince in the land and her mother truly was the fairest of them all.

Two months later he married a girl from the village below the castle instead, a blacksmith's daughter with coal-dark eyes and a modest dowry of horseshoes and wagon wheels, whose belly was already round and swollen under the loose folds of her simple wedding dress. Emma had been young then, young and still innocent in many ways but not so naive that she hadn't already known that not everyone was like her parents, True Love with eyes for no one but each other even after so many years of marriage. The royal court was not without scandals about lords who were seen entering bedchambers not their own under cover of night and ladies who disappeared into darkened corners with handsome footmen during balls and masques while their husbands were otherwise occupied. She'd thought the young knight was noble, like her father, that his words were as true as the love he professed, but as she watched the wedding procession wind its way through the village to the church from behind the curtains of a plain carriage the butterflies turned to bile in her stomach as she realized he must have already bedded the blacksmith's daughter and got the girl with child long before he'd bowed to Emma like a gentlemen in the gardens and made such grand, sweeping promises about victory and marriage, flattering her vanity with his empty compliments about her beauty and grace. Maybe he had even meant what he said, or thought he did, they hadn't been lies exactly, but neither were they the truth. After the church bells had begun to ring she'd ordered the driver to return her to the castle before the newly wedded couple could emerge to a shower of flower petals and well wishes from the gathered villagers, hurrying to shut herself up alone in her chambers and telling no one of what had happened. She was too hurt and humiliated to seek solace from anyone and fearful of her heartbreak becoming the newest fodder for the entire court to gossip about behind her back. It was bad enough that rumours sprang like mushrooms whenever she smiled at a duke's unmarried son during a banquet or was seen talking to one of the kitchen boys sharpening knives in the courtyard, she couldn't bear the thought of the pitying looks and extravagant sympathy that would follow her for weeks if her secret was discovered. It had seemed so romantic to hide his courtship until he'd won a joust and could be presented to her parents as a champion, now she just felt like a fool. Her pillow had dried her tears at night instead of her mother or Red as she bore the sting of his betrayal alone, feeling it as a physical ache in her chest that seemed to burn while the rest of her was so, so cold.

Soft hair tickled the inside of her thighs like butterfly wings while callused palms fanned over her hips, large, and warm and gentle, but holding her firm in place. Killian was kneeling next to the bed, his head buried between her bare legs and his clever mouth pressed right to the aching flesh there that throbbed to the beat of her heart.

"There's a love, all pink and wet for me. No one else, Emma. Only me."

Something in his voice made her shiver despite the heat that flooded through her, a hint of command in his tone even though he was the one on his knees paying her this homage. She obeyed his muffled order to open her thighs wider even as she pressed on the back of his head, urging him back down to where she needed him so badly and lifting her hips to meet him halfway. He knew what she wanted and he didn't deny her, lips suddenly closing around the swollen nub with a force that sent crashing waves of pleasure right down to her toes, her eyes closing helplessly against the onslaught of sensation and her grip tightening in his hair.

It was dark in the cabin and she could tell they were still aloft, there was no rocking from the sea underneath where she lay on the bunk or lap of the water against the outside of the ship. After he'd carried her to bed the evening before she'd managed a bit of dreamless sleep for an hour or two, drifting off in his arms with her head on his shoulder and his hand stroking her hair. Killian hadn't undressed and she knew he couldn't stay the whole night, not with the Jolly flying through the clouds over the ocean thanks to the magic of the fairy dust and a crew that would look to their captain to guide them on the strange voyage back. She'd sensed the moment he was gone, the creak of his boots on the planks reaching her even in slumber as he went back up on deck and the faint calls from the men when he confirmed their heading. Back to the Enchanted Forest, back home to the land where bold knights fought to wear her token and jousted to win her favour.

A kiss as soft as velvet was placed against her sensitive skin, and then another, letting her catch her breath for a moment before it turned hard and demanding again. It was bolder and more intimate than she could have ever dreamed of at fourteen, to lie naked and flushed in a man's bed with her lover on his knees before her, an unspoken promise in each flick and drag of his tongue as he searched out every last spot that made her gasp and tremble and only want more.

She'd woken fully after he left, the narrow bed far too large and empty without him. Leaving the shelter of the fairies' island for Regina's domain was daunting, to say the least, and Emma felt like a pawn on the chessboard, moving from queen to queen across vast squares made up of land and sea. A king had already fallen and toppled off the board but the game had yet to be won and the final gambit was almost at hand. Words of prophecy ran circles through her mind, darkness falling...happy endings...knights...queens...born to break a curse. She was awake, but time passed like in a dream, where minutes were hours and it felt like she'd only blinked, opening her eyes to find him back again. Only it must have been longer than that because he was naked in the moonlight, stripped right down to the skin and her gaze had trailed over hard muscle that could match any knight's, strong arms that lifted her easily as if she weighed nothing, large hands that could manipulate any blade from dagger to broadsword with deadly accuracy. Without the armour of his billowing shirts and pirate leathers to hide them she could see the marks and scars he bore from a life where he fought not for honour and glory on the tournament field, but for sheer survival on the high seas, each a hard-won victory that formed a map of the man he was now. His stomach flexed under her scrutiny, flat and tight as a drum save for the shadowed dip of his navel and she followed the line of dark hair that ran below it to the stirring manhood readying to claim the prize that was his not by force or captain's privilege, and her own body responded to the sight with a sharp pang and hot rush between her legs when he silently sank down to his knees and carefully spread hers apart.

The jousts of her childhood were theatre to entertain a crowd, wooden, breakaway lances and straw-filled dummies in place of steel weapons honed to kill and flesh-and-blood enemies. It was easy to be brave against an Evil Queen played by a preening actress in a black wig who tossed oranges to the stands instead of fire, easy to be a noble knight bending a chivalrous knee to a wide-eyed young princess who'd grown up on tales of charming princes and vanquished villains and longed to find a True Love of her own. Countless men had followed as she grew more in her womanhood, kneeling down at her feet and offering her the world, vast lands, grand titles, fabulous jewels. They'd all been dressed in their finest to court her, in elaborately decorated breastplates that had never seen battle, carrying finely-wrought swords too heavily encrusted with gems to actually wield. They vied among themselves to win her hand, feverently vowed to capture her heart, but it was all just words. Empty promises, easily made and even more easily broken for other heiresses, more favourable alliances as the winds shifted between kingdoms and royal houses rose and fell.

Killian lifted his head from between her thighs, hair mussed from her fingers, face dark in the shadows, and crawled into the bunk, settling his weight over her while she gripped his biceps and looked up at him. He'd not only stripped himself of his clothes, he'd also wiped the kohl from his eyes and removed all of his rings and the necklace he normally never took off. The hands that touched her were completely bare and the dagger and skull charms didn't settle between her breasts the way they usually did whenever they lay like this. Emma touched a thumb to the little notch in the hollow of his throat, a pleasant languor stealing through her limbs as she slid a foot up and down the back of his calf. His legs were so much longer than hers, she had to rise up on her toes to kiss him in the mornings before he went up on deck. Killian braced himself on his elbows and leaned down, brushing his lips over hers even as she continued to draw little patterns on his skin with her fingertips. It wasn't her first kiss, when love was butterflies and bedtime stories, and he wasn't a knight courting a princess in a garden bower before riding off to a joust with her handkerchief pinned to his sleeve.

He was only a man.

When dawn broke he'd don the mantle of captain and pirate once more and she'd be his royal hostage, but together in the dark there was no rank, no titles, there was nothing between them but this, the all-consuming need that had her slick with readiness and arching under him while he was firm and eager, pressed hot to the inside of her thigh. Emma guided him across that final bit of distance that separated them, wrapping a leg over his hip and pulling him to her as he sank inside with a quiet groan, his eyes falling shut so that his auburn-tipped lashes slanted against his cheeks.

She was known across the kingdoms of the Enchanted Forest for her beauty just as he was known across the seas for his piracy, but if a man could be called "beautiful" then Killian was, his finely cut features even sharper in the glow from the moon that was so much brighter high above the clouds. The planes and angles of him shifted with his movements, face going from boyish charm to a lover's passion, his shoulders and arms flexing and his back bowing to press in even deeper, a ravishment she welcomed with her legs hitching up higher on his waist.

"Love."

It was a soft exhale against her neck, a whispered endearment into the night while she crossed her ankles at the base of his spine to tether them even closer together like two ships. The ache continued to build low in her belly with each roll of his hips into hers, each thrust of hard, male flesh and the soft press of her breasts to his chest, the hair there damp and silky with the heat of their lovemaking. He was hard, tall and strong and she was soft and delicate and yet they fit together perfectly, his hands sliding under her and lifting her up with the strength that years of hoisting sails and hauling rope had given him, letting them join together flush while she cradled him close to her breast and kissed away the salt from his brow. His lips sought hers again, tongue flicking against the bow of them until she opened for him. Killian wanted everything from her and it made her light-headed, almost drunk from sheer giddiness. She'd kissed men before in the moonlight, received offers of marriage and been lavished with costly gifts, but she'd never been naked with a man before him, never known the bone-deep pleasure of a man's body inside hers, never had a man swear his fealty to her and her alone with a sword that was more than ornamental. Killian Jones had given himself to her, in all the ways he could, offered her his ship and his sword and his own name when everything else had been taken away from her by the shifting winds of fate. It was exhilarating, and terrifying, and she wanted it all, wanted it more than she could put into words.

The wave crested white against her vision and she fell apart underneath him, her cry muffled by his kiss and feeling him stiffen as he quickly followed her into the bliss, both of them sinking down into the mattress in a limp and boneless tangle with his dark head coming to rest again on her breast, over the heart that beat now for him. In these hours between dusk and dawn when the ship was the quietest and the world outside was held at bay she didn't feel like a princess,

a prize to be won by a knight or a lord or even a pirate. In her lover's bed lying skin-to-skin with the echo of him a pleasant throb between her legs and his warmth surrounding her on all sides, she was a woman who had found home.

Emma felt herself drift, not quite awake and not quite asleep, wishing the night would never end. She thought a hand might have brushed her cheek, soft and gentle as a feather, and a voice whispered, "mine" but she wasn't sure if it was him or her who'd spoken.

Maybe it was both.

"We've landed."

The two words pierced the quiet and the pleasant fog surrounding her receded away as she opened her eyes again and wondered if it had really happened or if it had just been a rather vivid dream. Killian was fully dressed save for his coat, in his leathers and a shirt with a high collar, open at the throat and worn under a black waistcoat with heavy silver fastenings. Rings gleamed on almost every finger and a dark gem hung from his ear. The kohl was back, dark slashes around his eyes that made the ocean blue of them all the more startling. He looked the way he had the day they'd first met, an imposing figure clad in black. She remembered what she'd thought of him then, that he was a heartless villain, seeking nothing but treasure and infamy on the open sea.

"How long?" she asked.

"'Bout an hour ago."

Her voice shook, despite her best efforts to hide it, "What happens now? Do I go back to the...brig?"

She also remembered being forced to her knees in surrender under his smirking gaze and that first night locked up in a tiny cell, crying herself to sleep with the enchanted mirror clutched tight in her hand and wondering if she'd ever see home or her parents again. A pained expression crossed Killian's face and he looked away, shaking his head and sinking down onto a stool by the bunk while she turned onto her side and propped her head on her hand.

"No," he said at last, "I will never do that to you again, Princess, not even if the Evil Queen herself suddenly appears on deck. You will remain in my quarters and stay out of sight for now, and when we are in public we have to act as if you are my prisoner and utterly despise me. No more "Killian," only "Captain" from now on and the crew have all been ordered to stop calling you mistress - although Fergus might forget."

She smiled a bit at that, thinking how Fergus had stumbled over her title and how to properly address her when she'd first come on board. "I've never seen a princess before."

"Killian?"

It might be the last time she got to say it for a while and he turned to face her, taking the hand she held out to him and clasping it in his. Time was slipping away and she could sense the moment of calm was about to end soon, too soon, she wanted to just stay like this with him forever and the words she wanted to say were caught in her throat. All she could manage to get out was a whispered, "I'm scared."

It wasn't a tournament of knightly jousts and roses that awaited them outside the quiet of the early dawn, a real battle loomed like a dark spectre that no light could reach. Shadows watching from behind the mirror, poisoned apples as red as blood, the nightmare that had plagued her for months and followed her right across the ocean.

Red as blood.

Killian's hand tightened on hers, a lifeline that she clung to desperately against the fate that awaited her outside the door. Her parents were the heroes, not her, all knew the tale of Snow White and Prince Charming and how True Love's Kiss had broken the queen's curse and saved the kingdom at last. It was a legend, a bedtime story, and she was just...Emma.

He was watching her closely, eyes narrowed and lips set in a thin line, "Aye," he said, "My first battle my knees were knocking together so hard from fear I had bruises on the inside of my legs afterwards. Didn't even feel it at the time. You were scared of me when we first met, weren't you?"

She nodded, she had been afraid of him back then. Pirates were villains in every tale she'd been told of them, like Wicked Stepmothers and the Dark One. Of course now her feelings towards him were a tad more congenial, lying in his bed with the echo of him between her legs, and from his wry smile and the brief drop of his gaze down to where the careless drape of the sheet left one breast exposed, he was probably thinking similar thoughts.

"But you still fought. You used the only weapon you had and you fought back, even though you were scared, and you bested me. One woman against a crew of pirates, no magic, none of this great destiny...just you. Alone. I know the Evil Queen is a formidable foe, more than any we've faced, but if you trust me now then trust that you will not go into this battle by yourself. I will be by your side and I will fight for you, Emma, I swear it."

"Captain! Captain, we need you on deck!"

They both looked up at the shout from above and Killian stood, his face hardening in a blink. One hand immediately found the hilt of his sword in a gesture that was a natural to him as breathing. A pirate, but not a villain. Not anymore.

"Wait."

She rose from the tangle of sheets before he could leave, wrapping the linen around herself and making for the washstand. The planks were cold and hard under her bare feet, but she barely felt them as she picked up a green ribbon that had been left sitting next to her hairbrush.

"I'll bring you back some ribbons for your hair."

Emma ran her finger down the length of velvet. She'd given one of her ribbons to Fergus once as a knight's token, a carefree gesture that had turned out to have more significance than any of them knew at the time. The Dark One's prophecy had stated that a queen would be the one to defeat Regina, a queen guarded by a loyal knight. Fergus was loyal to his captain above all else and had been tasked to guard her in his absence. King George had fallen and his subjects had declared her their queen, including Killian, swearing an oath and laying his sword at her feet. Her destiny had been decided before she was even born and she'd been a pawn on a chessboard moved by an unseen hand for who knew how long, but this was still hers to give.

Her parents always said she was free to choose, and while she chose the wrong man at fourteen and been too afraid to risk her heart like that again ever since, she'd made her choice the day Killian Jones came into her life and stole her away on his ship.

"I know it's not much and this may sound a bit silly, but will you take this? I want you to carry something of mine with you."

Killian nodded, a hint of a smile lifting the corner of his lips, and stood completely still save for the slight rise and fall of his chest while she tucked the ribbon inside his waistcoat, using a bit of magic that sprang easily from her fingertips to hold it in place. It was easier to summon the power than it had ever been before, she didn't even have to think about what she wanted and it was already done. Whether it would be enough to defeat the Evil Queen and win back her kingdom remained to be seen, but for now she smoothed the leather back into place and rested her hand on it for a moment. Knights usually wore their tokens openly, displaying them proudly to the crowd so that everyone would know they'd been graced by a lady's favour. But he was a pirate, not a knight, and she had to hide hers away where it wouldn't be seen. She traced the place where it lay with her finger for a moment before pulling back.

"I love you, Killian."

Emma didn't know when, or...if, she'd get to say it again. Their eyes met and he opened his mouth as if he was going to say more when the call came again from above.

"Captain!"

He hesitated, clearly torn and she forced a smile, whispering, "Go. Your crew needs you, Captain."

But before he did he leaned down and kissed her, soft, and sweet, resting his forehead to hers and his voice a promise against her lips.

"I love you. Whatever happens next, Emma, I will love you until the tides stop turning and the seas themselves run dry."

She didn't need her gift to know that every last word he spoke was true.

                                                     ...

                                                     ...

                                                     ...

Land was not yet visible on the horizon nor were there any ships in sight of his spyglass, so Killian gave the order to hold their course to the east for now. The ocean was calm, placid, but the water was dark as obsidian and the sky a mass of heavy grey cloud like smoke, a warning of possible storms ahead. There was a prickling feeling at the base of his neck that refused to go away, another sign of potential dangers lurking unseen that he'd felt more than once in his life and he'd long since learned to trust his instincts when it came to such things. The sea was a harsh mistress that every sailor knew to heed, those who didn't quickly learned the error of their ways at considerable cost. Lookouts were posted in the crow's nest to signal at the first sign of either friend or foe in the distance and the men were all on high alert, eager, even, at the prospect of a battle so soon at hand. The idyll of the time spent in the fairy queen's realm had faded away like a half-forgotten dream and the crew seemed harder, sharper, than they had only a day or so ago.

Killian felt it too. Harder. Sharper. Softness was weakness, especially for the captain of a pirate ship. He needed to be hard, he needed to be sharp for what lay ahead and he would be, he had to be.

No matter what it cost him.

Emma was tucked away safe down below and her parents were still billeted in Doyle's quarters while the carpenter slept in a hammock slung up in his workshop. Lieutenant Courtice was guarding the door, and so long as he stayed out of Killian's sight then he didn't care if the man was guarding the head, Courtice might be more honourable than he was but in his experience honour only led to death and loss and he had no intention of losing.

"Fergus!"

It came out as a bellow that made McIntyre flinch and back away a few paces even as the cabin boy in question scurried forward, his face somewhat pinched and paler than usual under his thick blond mop. The childish roundness had started to fall from his cheeks and his voice was beginning to change, cracking and breaking on some words and sounding more like the fully-grown man he would one day be on others.

"Captain?" Fergus ventured, a bit timid and uncertain. The shift in the captain's demeanour had clearly not gone unnoticed by the crew, his moods had been as mercurial as the seas before Emma had come on board and not a man among them ever wanted to get caught unaware on the wrong end of his somewhat volatile temper. His sword caught what light there was through the clouds when he pulled it from the sheath at his hip, the edge freshly sharpened and the metal polished to a mirror shine. Killian caught a quick glimpse of his reflection in it for a moment, grim-faced and unsmiling, before he looked away. His own face was the last thing he wanted to see right now.

"The enemy is at hand, draw your blade and prepare to engage."

Fergus relaxed a fraction at the familiar opening gambit to one of their sparring sessions before a closer glance at his captain made him draw up straight again, groping quickly for his own weapon. The much-longed for sword had been his reward all those months ago when Emma had been taken from the ship and Killian had felt his own heart shatter neatly to pieces in his chest even as white-hot rage had lanced through him like lightning, suddenly throwing everything around him into sharp relief. He felt it again as he watched Fergus fumble with the pommel before finding his grip and freeing the sabre that was a near twin to the one he held, not the heartbreak of that terrible day when he feared for her life and her honour in the clutches of one who cared nothing for either, but the bone-deep certainty that blood would be spilled by his own hand and the ultimate price would be paid for what he had lost.

For what had been taken from him.

Never steal from a pirate.

Fergus fell into a fighting stance, blowing the hair from his eyes with a quick puff. Knees bent, shoulders down, shifting his weight to the balls of his feet in order to move more quickly when the first strike came. They frequently sparred to a scenario Killian made up on the spot and usually it was rather lighthearted and sometimes fantastical, the Jolly was unlikely to be attacked by a kraken or swarmed by a horde of hungry ogres, but today the game took on a different edge.

"Black knights, sworn in service to the Evil Queen. The most ruthless and feared in the whole of the Enchanted Forest. They've boarded the Jolly Roger and are about to engage her crew in hand-to-hand combat. Are you ready to fight in your ship's defence, Master Fergus?"

A bead of sweat rolled down the side of Fergus's face and he swallowed hard, lifting his sword into position. This was not a boy's fantasy of grand sea battles against strange beasts, this was what really awaited them at the end of their journey. They were sailing straight towards blood and fighting and death, he had no illusions that the Evil Queen would receive his message and merely invite him into her parlour to negotiate over tea. She wanted Emma, and everyone around her would merely be cannon fodder to her rage. But Killian was not about to go down quietly, and neither would his crew.

The blades met in the air with a clang that echoed across the deck and made the bones in his wrist vibrate from the force of it. He usually held back considerably during a spar with the lad, but he couldn't afford such indulgences now. Fergus grimaced, clearing not expecting the sheer power behind the blow. He recovered quickly though, pivoting back on his heel and attempting a strike from the other side. Killian blocked it, losing himself in the familiar feel of the tempered steel in his hand. His vision narrowed to nothing but the sword and his opponent, the blood singing in his veins with each jab and parry. He was only dimly aware of everything else, the rest of the crew were mere shadows in the corner of his eyes. This was what he knew as intimately as a lover, the curve and flex of his arm with each swing, the firm press of his thumb on the grip, the weight of the sword he wielded like it was as much a part of himself as one of his own limbs. The Evil Queen had magic, dark and powerful, she was a foe unlike any he'd ever faced before. Killian imagined her in his mind, every tale had said that she was as beautiful as she was dangerous and he pictured an enchantress like the beckoning sirens who sang to passing ships from the rocks, seductive and comely of face and form but bloodthirsty and as deadly as a shark.

Would her royal blood be red when he sank his blade into her heart, or black?

"There's darkness in your heart."

Killian felt his lip curl in a snarl as the Fairy Queen's voice whispered in his ear. The men who had fallen to his blade had all begged and pleaded for their lives and he'd been unmoved by their cries, widowing their wives and orphaning their children without a second thought. Honour was the currency of fools, he took what he wanted no matter the price and to hell with anyone who tried to stand in his way.

Fergus faltered, losing ground against the onslaught until he was finally forced back against the mast. His sword clattered to the deck as he lost his grip and Killian stepped close and pressed his advantage, flipping his blade so that the blunt edge rested right against the boy's neck.

"Do not expect any mercy from your enemy and grant none, do you hear? That's an order."

His dark eyes were huge, lips white and bloodless as he stared up at his captain. The slender throat bobbed as he finally swallowed and nodded. Their faces were nearly level, Killian didn't need to stoop down nearly as far as he did the day he'd first taken Fergus aboard and into his service. Boys grew up fast at sea, it was a harsh life that gave little quarter to the weak and helpless. He'd learned that lesson young and never forgotten it.

"What are you?"

Fergus's voice didn't crack, "I'm a pirate!"

"Aye!" Killian smiled, clapping him on the shoulder, "And now you're a full crewman. Retrieve your blade and take your new place, we all sail as men and we fight as men under no flag save our own."

The crew welcomed Fergus with more slaps on the back and gruff cheers when he went to join them as an equal at last, finally a full member of the crew with all the privileges as the rest. But the celebration that normally accompanied such a promotion would have to wait and the Jolly kept carrying them forward, cutting through the rolling swells like a hot knife through butter. Calm sea had given way to choppy waves that broke white at the hull, a sign of an oncoming storm. But there was no clap of thunder or flash of lightning in the clouds, just the threat hanging over them as they held their course towards the Enchanted Forest. Killian tasted the salt in his throat and his coat snapped in the wind, his blade sheathed again at his hip. Every man was fully armed, pistols, knives, and swords at the ready, every last one watching the horizon.

"Captain!"

He turned towards the shout, expecting to see another ship in the distance. But McIntyre was pointing towards the sea instead, where a familiar shape was just barely visible beneath the waves. It had feminine curves and a long tail, and Killian frowned in recognition even as McIntyre yelled out, "Mermaids!"

There was more than one, the second was a length behind the first and the men began to point and shout as more surrounded the ship. A tail broke the waves to a gasp before the mermaid dived back under, kicking up a spray of drops like diamonds into the air almost as high as the deck. They easily kept pace with the Jolly, swimming alongside her whitewashed keel with quicksilver grace and astonishing speed.

A single mermaid was a rare enough sight, even for Killian, who'd spent more time at sea than on land. To see what appeared to be a whole school of them was startling, a clear omen that had the crew exchanging glances reaching for the charms and talismans they carried to ward off ill fortune. Mermaids were dangerous creatures, and he knew of more than one man who had drowned in pursuit of them and the magic they possessed.

"Don't you bloody dare."

The order made Keswick and McIntyre drop the net they had picked up with guilty faces, clearly intending to try to snare one. Killian glanced down at the bare spot on his finger out of habit, thinking of the old legend of a sea princess who had loved a sailor even though they were of two worlds that could never be one. A faint sound carried on the wind, sweet and enticing, and every last man on deck stopped and ceased to breathe for a moment, straining to hear the song that came from beneath the waves. They were singing, the most beautiful melody that Killian could imagine and one he felt he could listen to forever. Strangely though, he had no urge to follow, even as the rest of the men drifted towards the stern and watched them gradually fall back, the tails slowing and the song fading away. He pulled his spyglass again and climbed the rigging, holding on with one hand and watching the little spots of white churning on the water that marked where each one was lurking underneath. One by one they started to disappear, as he supposed the mermaids were diving back down to the fathoms deep from whence they had came. Maybe there was still some fairy magic clinging to the Jolly that had drawn their attention up to his ship, but whatever it was they hadn't tried to attack by leading them astray or conjuring a storm to lash down rain like a whip at the sails and the deck. If anything the skies had cleared, clouds receding and the sun shining down on water as blue as sapphires.

He caught a glimpse of a tail, brilliant green and so bright that it almost hurt to look at. It was gone so quickly that he thought at first he must have imagined it, but then he felt a tiny weight against his chest that shifted when he moved and his gaze fell again to where a ring had once sat on his finger until he'd given it away without a second thought. His greatest treasure, a gem so rare that he'd only ever even seen the one.

A bell rang, and it took a moment for him to recognize the sound as another cry went up around the deck.

"Ships! Ships!"

There were three in the distance, two sloops flanking a larger vessel flying a dark sigil with silver markings. It was not the flag of any kingdom that he knew, and he'd taken prizes from dozens of them. He twisted his spyglass and brought the flags in focus to see that the markings formed a crown, one that was feminine in both shape and design.

It was the flag of a queen, and it was one that he'd seen once before.

"Captain! Orders?"

Killian lowered the glass and felt a smile spread across his face, as dark and maniacal as one on the flag raised high on the Jolly's own mast.

"Hold our course, lads, and load the cannons."

They went to carry the orders out while he watched the ships approach and muttered under his breath, "It's time to introduce ourselves to the Evil Queen."

[salty-apples]

Chapter 11: Marya on the Mind

Lady Bette was up before dawn. An unusual thing as she had stayed up late conversing with her sister.

She was seated before her writing desk in front of a window, a gentle early morning breeze caressing her face. It was at times like these that she did not feel her age; that her mind would wonder to her youth and her life as a Valle seemed a dream.

Memory did not let her linger long in the past. Instead, it dragged her to last night, pulling to the fore of her mind the faces she had been surrounded by. There were two in particular which drew her attention.

A gentle knock on her door turned her head as Lady Nettie let herself in. Lady Bette waved her sister in. Lady Nettie, glad for some company before daybreak, settled herself at the edge of Lady Bette's rumpled bed and drew her night wrapper closer.

"Can't sleep, can you?" Lady Bette's fingers tapped out an unsteady rhythm on her desk as she asked, a faraway look in her eyes.

"No. Not at all. I just thought you would be awake and I came to watch the sunrise with you," Lady Nettie answered with a sigh. Lady Bette smiled. It had been a habit of theirs, long before husbands and children stole their time and attention, to climb to the roof of their house to watch the sun chase the dark away. In the early years of their marriages, their husbands had joined in the ritual but as they had grown older, their bodies could not continue to scale walls as they had done when they were young and flexible. Now, it was just the two of them and their days of watching the sunrise were long past.

Nettie knew that Bette had to be awake for a reason, one which she had no trouble guessing. The furrows on Bette's brow were rather telling. "It's Beau, isn't it." Bette said nothing but the heavy sigh that left her chest was enough affirmation.

"You know," Nettie started, "I watched him at dinner and I have to say, the attentions he paid our guest was rather suspicious." Bette nodded and said nothing still. "Marya is good girl, Bette," she tried to assure her sister. "Industrious. Talented- and rather mysterious-"

"-That's the thing, Net," Bette cut her off. "No one knows who she is or where she's from. And to think that we had no idea who she was until we found out she was making Deva's dress- the girl seems to have come out of nowhere."

Nettie chuckled, amused at her sister's puzzlement. "If it's any consolation to you, I asked around about her after my maids informed me of Beau paying her a visit."

"He went to see her?" Bette turned to face her sister, her interest in Marya rising.

"By himself."

"When?"

"Two weeks ago come tomorrow."

A hand went under Bette's chin, her features turning thoughtful. "What did you learn about her?"

Nettie puffed out her chest, pleased to present her information. "Well, my maids have told me that she's the one nearly all the servants of the well-off families in town send their large mending jobs to. It has put a stain on her business though as many people perceive her to only be in the business of mending and alterations. She is very skilled the needle from what I've seen-"

"Nothing about where she's from?"

"None," Nettie responded and pursed her lips. "She tends to keep to herself and doesn't give many people the opportunity to know her. But I have a letter from her landlord saying that the most he knows is that she told him that she spent nearly two years in Domover before coming here."

"She did?" Curious, Bette wondered. Why would she have left a place like Domover? It was a good town and dressmakers were always in high demand. Before she could finish her train of thought, Nettie's voice broke in.

"Remember the last time Lady Domover wrote us before she passed?" Nettie asked Bette. Bette nodded.

"Do you recall that she mentioned something about the town's most celebrated dressmaker leaving and she was scrambling to find someone to take her place?"

"Yes," Bette answered expectantly. "And?"

"I think- nay, I believe that was Marya."

"No!" Bette gasped. "She was behind all those gowns?" Nettie nodded enthusiastically. Bette could not believe it. Silent, never saying a word Marya? Her mind's eye conjured an image of the girl in question, a new found appreciation of her guest forming.

"That was pure talent, Net," she exclaimed. "Art in motion!"

"Remember the High Court ball and the way Satiné's dress sparkled? All those tiny glass shards sewn into embroidered flowers and the way the candlelight made the glass reflect the light- Oh!" Nettie's hand went to her chest to calm her excited heart.

"Yes! Yes!" Bette squealed. "I told Lord Domover that she looked just like she had on their wedding day!"

"Bette, we've found her! We've found the belle!" Nettie was excited at her discovery, indeed realization but Bette thought it a little sudden.

"Calm down, Nettie," she said with a laugh. "We still have the ball to see who he chooses."

"Screw the ball, Bette," Nettie almost shouted. "He's given himself to her- and he doesn't know it yet!"

Bette turned thoughtful again. Nettie's words had merit. She had seen it for herself. But she needed to be certain. After all, in her desk was one last invitation- one meant only for the belle. If she gave it to the wrong person, all their plans would have been for nothing.

Nettie's eyes slid to the locked drawer of the writing desk. "You're not sure, are you?" She asked asked. Bette shook her head. "I understand."

Bette could feel a but forming. "You know something, don't you?"

"I do." Nettie brightened, ready to deliver what she hoped would be the decider for Bette. "They shared a moment at the door before she left last night. A rather long one, according my maid Rietta."

"What kind of moment?" Bette leaned closer, curiousity barely masked in her voice.

"The kind that is very long and silent and involves two people staring at each other while holding hands. Longest farewell in history according to Rietta," Nettie said with a giggle.

"That invitation belongs Marya, Bette. I can feel it," she continued. "We may not be certain of her feelings but we can see Beau's. We've seen his distraction. His attention. His open admiration for her and you have to admit it to yourself, she did not look out of place at dinner," she finished with a self-satisfied smirk.

Bette rubbed her chin. Nettie was making a good argument for Marya. It was clear that above all the young women of the town, Marya was the one who had her admiration and respect. But, she was still unsure. She needed to know more about the girl.

Nettie saw the look on Bette's face and cut in before Bette could articulate her thoughts. "Still not sure about her? Fine!" And she threw up her hands dramatically. "Invite her for afternoon tea. Speak to her directly. Do something. But don't deny these children a chance at love, Bette. Please."

"Fine, I've heard you," Bette sighed and opened her drawer. Satisfied at having made her case, Nettie hummed a happy tune and looked out of the window. What a pleasant start to the

[salemspoint-blog]

❝ I’m sorry to tell you this but you failed the test, you’re not a psychopath after all. ❞

» Catherine Black » Thirty-six (655) » Vampire » History Professor at the University » Kelly Reilly

Physical Appearance —

Catherine’s style is both timeless and eye catching, she’s never without her sky high Louboutins and trademark pencil skirts and blouses. When she does don pants they’re skin tight and pressed, she knows she’s got a body some would kill for and isn’t afraid to show it off. She’s always put together even if it means making others fashionably late.

She moves as if she’s floating and acts as if she’s better than everyone else in the room, head held back high and barely giving those she doesn’t seem worthy the time of day. She’s soft spoken but careful with her words and uses her melodic tones to sooth others into a false sense of security before taking advantage of their trusting natures.

Personality Traits —

♦ Loyal, witty and perceptive ��� Stuck up, stubborn and an asshole

Biography —

THEN:

Catherine Black was born in 1383 in England during a time that could today be commonly referred to as a disastrous period in English history, which it was. Rebellion in Wales, Scottish monarchies and the War of Independence for Scotland were only some of the highlights of the last quarter of the 13th century. The Black Death was another thing sitting upon young Pamela’s head throughout her growing years, claiming two of her siblings and her mother when she was very young.

But as difficult as things were back then, the period between the Black Death of 1348 and 1485 was, among other things, a golden age for women. War and depopulation allowed them to contribute much more effectively and influentially to society. After being married off to a young man, Damian “Ian” Hamilton, Catherine became a governess at 15 for a wealthy family in London and it was while under their care that she encountered the man who would later become her Vampiric Sire although she didn’t know this at the time.

Catherine loved her job, she enjoyed learning and passing along that wealth of knowledge onto the children under her charge and more than anything, she loved Caroline. An incredibly improper thing for a lady of not only her time but of her gender, from the first few weeks in her care, Catherine seemed to calm the vivacious Caroline with a tenderness that none had shown the girl previously. Despite being 6 years her senior, the two got along as thick as thieves and Pamela did her best to coach the younger girl on how to behave like a proper lady which is what her parents wanted for her.

She was employed with the family for 6 years until Caroline’s 10th birthday, upon which her family had decided that they no longer needed a governess. She had been planning on leaving the family to start her own two years prior, but at Caroline’s insistence remained. Catherine hated to leave the girl behind but promised to keep in touch and have her and her future husband for dinner as much as she could after Caroline was wed. Catherine gave birth to her first daughter at 23 and a son the following year. Her employment with the wealthy family afforded Catherine places in society she had only heard about in whispers and as time wore on she couldn’t imagine going back, it was only nature she got swept up in it.

Caroline remained a constant in Catherine’s life as she grew, often sneaking away from her family or her fiance to spend the afternoon walking the gardens with Pamela or making love in the lake near Pamela’s home and Pamela did her best to keep her two lives separate although they had one or two very close encounters over the years. She knew it was morally and spiritually wrong to be with the girl, felt it in her bones every time they were together but when Caroline was with her it didn’t feel wrong. Catherine always felt right when she was around.

At a time where living to 30 was practically unheard of, somehow Catherine Hamilton had made it. However the joy behind it was short lived when a tall, handsome Lord friend of the family attended her celebration and drugged her drink with pure Absinthe, which caused the woman to hallucinate and pass out in a lone corner of her garden. He drained Catherine of the blood in her body and exchanged it with his own, leaving her dead in marriage bed and retrieving her body the morning after her burial.

Catherine struggled greatly at first with the change, having spent so long teaching and loving people that she couldn’t bare to kill them so senselessly. But eventually with time, like many great changes throughout the ages, it became a part of her. Although she had been forbidden to reclaim her former life by her Sire, it didn’t stop her from trying to keep an eye on those who had meant the most to her in life from a distance, she wasn’t just going to abandon them in death too.

Caroline died not a few years later in childbirth and it took all of her restraint, and that of her Sire, Charles, to keep her from saving the girl and adopting the child as her own. It would have been the least she could do for someone who had meant so much to her.. But she couldn’t.

Eventually as the years rolled on, Catherine went back to her maiden name and left for France, where she spent many years learning the culture, the language and more importantly the men and women. When she returned to England, a sordid tale of debauchery followed but Catherine tried to pay it no mind. She remained in England for centuries, constantly reinventing herself as a relative of her former self, settling herself at the height of society and wealth as she went: hosting balls and dinners, parties and far far more.

Catherine’s station within the English court during the reign of Henry the VIII remain some of the most cherished times in her life even though they ended far bloodier than they had begun. Catherine’s sire Charles was highly influential with Henry’s council and helped them eventually charge Queen Anne with treason and witchcraft, due to Catherine’s refusal to assist Charles in helping return Catherine of Aragon to the throne.

Her sire had also wasted no time in trying to frame her as an accomplice in the wrongdoings against the crown, something Catherine would never have done. A royalist to the bone, she did her best to convince Henry and fix things but failed. Not being able to stop Anne and George’s execution haunts her. She had to go on the run for a time after that, her good name sullied for many years and despite being stronger and older than they were, it got to her, and it continued to both her for many years.

Her friends were endless, her lovers timeless and connections vast. She commanded the room when she entered it, all eyes and hearts on her wherever she went. Catherine herself even served as an inspiration for Jane Austin’s character of Caroline Bingley, her home as a setting for the Bingley household in Austin’s novel Pride and Prejudice, a feat which tickles her to no end, even today. She loves the character, defends her tirelessly, and a personally signed copy of the finished piece sits tucked away in her home library for all time. A beautiful memory of a past life. She was Caroline Bingley for many years of her life, and she’ll never be ashamed of that no matter how many people loathe the fictional woman.

Victorian London remains her favorite point in her life, so many new inventions and turning points that were bound to be burned into her skin forever: Catherine met John, a doctor in the army who would go on to conspire with her to kill her Sire and free herself of him forever. They would later marry. She made her first vampire, Esme, a beautiful young girl she had taken under her wing to bring into society and whom Catherine became completely enchanted by. She and John would respectively go on to be the inspirations for Arthur Conan Doyle’s John and Mary Watson, a character also very dear to her heart. They soon began a whirlwind romance that spanned a few decades before they parted. She penned her first novel, a feat done by few women of the time, and finally, she made her first journey to America. A place that would change everything for her.

NOW:

600 plus years have passed since her life first began and more than a hundred years since arriving in America, Catherine had never been more tired. She continues to spend her days and her nights with children, now young adults of their own, teaching classes at the University. During her years she also became both a doctor and a nurse and continued to write Gothic romance novels under her first married name. More than anything she spent her days and her nights curled around her little vampire who had recently returned to her after decades away.

Catherine longs to return to England, where although things have certainly changed if she chose to go home she could reclaim old estates, return to the highest of society and sleep herself into complete boredom if she opted to. But her little one loved America, and Catherine loved her little one. After so long apart she couldn’t bring herself to up and leave her behind, it was both lovely and tragic all wrapped into one. She could admit to adoring teaching to some degree, many of her students could be brilliant if they put their minds to it. Her female students showed such promise as opposed to their counterparts, how the times had changed.

Part of that role reversal was what Catherine loved about America, that women wanted more than what had been expected of them for so dreadfully long. She constantly challenged her fellow scholars, using her intimate knowledge and grace against them. It amused her to no end to see them fluster about after throwing a wrench in their discussions and texts, honestly she could do that part of it forever.

Over the years Catherine’s morals haven’t changed all that much, she was very neutral in life and has remained mostly the same in death. However as she came to advise and council others over the years she has taken on a more lawful stance on things but at the same time understands that chaos is sometimes needed for the greater outcome. She isn’t afraid to get down and dirty if she has to and even enjoys it more often than she would ever admit to. Letting her hair down is a past time she too little indulges in. Catherine favors her own and while she goes out of her way to tease and make things difficult for the new ones, she does it in hopes they learn from their mistakes. She’s of the belief that not all vampires deserve to live and that sometimes it should be okay to help end their lives if asked. Something that some of the Original’s would love, even if it’s something they can never have.

Catherine’s maternal instinct in life has left her wanting to care for the younger community in Salem in death, even though sometimes it gets in the way. Catherine likes them because they listen, they trusts easily because they’re looking for someone to care for them. Catherine is only too happy to oblige.