#Beautiful such a calaming sound

[somewhatsentientspellbook]

It's interesting to bear witness to Emhira/The Matron's offer to kill S.I.L.A.H.A/Corellon because they were tired and intrigued by the notion of permanent nothing. Mostly because it raises a very interesting (and important) question for both Downfall and C3's narrative:

What, if anything, changed?

It's been hundreds of years since the Calamity, and The Arch Heart is still a prominent and heavily worshipped deity across a wide range of groups. Corellon, and any others sharing their sentiment, still have not made the choice to die, despite the means and motive being presented to them a long time ago. Even now, when threatened with the return of Predathos - they're moving in tandem with all of their other siblings, marshalling their forces and gathering strength

Did the Arch Heart have an epiphany between the start of Downfall and the end of Calamity? A moment where they realised that they genuinely do not want to die? Or perhaps they're still intrigued by the notion of nothingness, yet only stay alive to continue fulfilling their purpose to their siblings, worshippers, and Exandria?

It may very well be a question that gets answered in Downfall Part III, but for now it'll keep rotating in my head like a lazy cat on a lazy susan

[mikaela-the-slut-expert]

Maple Robes and Lace Veils

Hua Cheng x M!Reader x Xie Lian

this is the second part of my first story, "The First Glance". Again it's technically about my OC since no one's asking for anything. I just have it written to where it can be for a reader. 😋

Switching pov's

Also guys I am not Chinese but I try to find words and translations that are important to my OC's story.

Dúshé means poison laced tongue in simplified Chinese (I think)

Mûguô means bitch, or whore in simplified Chinese (I think)

Míngqín means song bird it's Y/n's nickname

Previous part: First Glance

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Once the morning has officially started, San Lang goes back to his wood pile. You stand by Xie Lian while San Lang somehow manages to build a whole door for the shrine. Xie Lian seems to love it, it's obvious with how he's become fascinated by opening and closing it repeatedly.

"I thought a door would be easier to stick talismans on than a curtain" San Lang explains. You smile and give a small clap. "It's a very well made door, San Lang, good job" you giggle at Xie Lian's excitement.

At the mention of talismans Xie Lian seems to remember something. He claps his hands together, "Oh Míngqín I forgot to tell you what happened at Mount Yunjin! I'm so sorry, so much happened yesterday"

You wave a hand, "it's nothing to worry about. How important could it be? I was there for most of it." You smile but Xie Lian's face is very serious so really nothing's funny at all.

"Well actually," Xie Lian laughs nervously, scratching his temple. "I talked with the heavenly officials and I found out that I met a calamity yesterday." Your face morphs into shock but Xie Lian quickly settles you down. "Not him." The words are met with silence. Of course it wasn't the white calamity. What were you thinking? ,"They called him Crimson Rain Sought Flower, his name is Hua Cheng" Xie Lian smiles. At this ghost's mention San Lang starts to pay attention to the conversation. "He walked me through the forest yesterday and I mistook him to be the ghost groom but he isn't. He isn't hard to be mistaken after seeing his silver butterflies ."

You're in shock. Because you got caught up in a swarm of silver butterflies yesterday. "I... Just don't understand. Why would a calamity be hanging around Mount Yunjin? Crimson Rain Sought Flower is known to stay in his den." You sigh.

You easily worry about Xie Lian and panic once more. "He didn't hurt you did he?" You move closer to Xie Lian and hold his face, looking for marks or bruises. "Why didn't you call for me, I would've been there right away." You frown and move back once you're satisfied with your search.

"There was no need to call, he didn't hurt me... He led me through the forest and safely delivered me to the temple." Xie Lian smiles but you sigh.

Xie Lian didn't get hurt, but a well known calamity shows up and helps Xie Lian? Coincidence. The same calamity helping you? Intention.

"...I suppose it's okay. As long as you didn't get hurt A-Lian. Just be careful." You look to the ground, but Xie Lian pats your head. "I am careful, ah you really should've seen the butterflies though Míngqín They were very beautiful"

You arch a brow then shake your head. "I actually did see them but, Wèizhī might eat them" Wèizhī is your two birds - Oriental Magpie- , they're not here right now though. They're probably bathing in water somewhere. Hm a bath doesn't sound so bad actually-, "Y/n?" You're brought back into focus when San Lang gains your attention. "Sorry I tend to lose my train of thought" you hum.

"What about you y/n?" You cock your head to the side at San Lang's question. "What have you heard about Crimson Rain" San Lang smiles mischievously.

"Why would I know anything about anybody?" You shrug. Of course you've heard and seen plenty about Hua Cheng, you're a ghost. You're... Residence happens to be near Ghost City.

Xie Lian nods in agreement though, he could use the info. You sigh, "Who knows? He stays in his den, and although close I've never seen him in my city." You shrug again.

All of you eventually go back inside. You end up staring at the painting again. You would have eventually painted something for Xie Lian but you've been busy working on the actual build of the shrine. You've always been good at the arts. Drawing, dancing, and singing. That is why you're the God of Song after all.

"San Lang's skills are very beautiful" You say, looking over at him. "Who taught you?"

San Lang shakes his head. "I had a good teacher a while back, I paint mostly for fun now." You nod at his explanation and smile back at the painting. You really do like it. It shows Xie Lian in what once used to be all his glory.

"Do you really like it so much, Míngqín?" Xie Lian stares at you and you've forgotten you don't have a veil on. They can see your expressions and you aren't just invisible anymore. You blush, and instinctively cover your mouth with your sleeve.

"O-oh, well yes I like it. It's very well done and it captures the prince of XianLe very beautifully." You stutter and look away.

The moment is interrupted when the three of you hear a scream and a man running towards the shrine. "Save Me! Save me please!" The panicked man grabs Xie Lian's wrist very harshly. It's in your nature, you can't help it. You are quick to push the man away, and to protect Xie Lian. He pats your arm however, in a 'It's okay' motion. Xie Lian sits the man down and asks for an explanation from him.

You and San Lang glare at him. Both of you don't trust him and both of you share a glance when the man explains he's from Banyue pass. Which has since turned into a dry land of sands. The man was running away from what killed his other group members.

"You ran all the way from Banyue pass to here?" San Lang asks with crossed arms. Your form is the same. The man seems to sweat at this, but Xie Lian in all his kindness offers the man a drink. Xie Lian is kind but he's probably just testing if the man is a mortal or not.

"No need to be polite you can drink" The man -for all his supposed running- hesitates to take the water Xie Lian so generously offered. When he does drink it, the water going into his body sounds hollow. You and Xie Lian both know it. "You can stop drinking now." Xie Lian says and takes the water from the man's hands. His disguise is ruined and everyone knows now. The man rises up quickly though and pulls a sword from his sleeve, moving to attack Xie Lian.

Before you or San Lang can act, Xie Lian is quick enough to flick the sword away. Sometimes you forget Xie Lian is just hiding his strength. The man tries to run and Xie Lian moves to use Rou'ye but the man drops and a sad looking skin bag(?) is left behind... A chopstick is what caused the damage. You and Xie Lian both whip your heads around to San Lang. Xie Lian goes to investigate the corpse but you still stare at San Lang.

"A chopstick?" You ask with an arched brow. "A chopstick" San Lang only smiles and you sigh. You both go to Xie Lian. When you get closer you can see that Xie Lian is using the array, so you do too. The only thing you can really hear is people being joyful about merits, and ignoring Xie Lian. Officials disgust you.

"Are the lot of you deaf? Did you not hear his highness? He asked a question." Your voice rings through the array and the officials who were once joyful before quiet down. Instead of answering, the cowards leave the array.

You're not a popular force in the heavens. Especially since your personality has always been cold and distant. You were actually loved once before, for your unnatural beauty and voice people revered you. That was until they found out you were a ghost and before they trashed Xie Lian's name. You would cause trouble for the other gods and challenge them often, causing fear to most officials. You always defended Xie Lian's name and when given the chance for promotion, you refused and chose to stay with Xie Lian instead.

This loyalty of yours to a scrap god however causes other officials to look down on you, they also just don't like your attitude. You have other unofficial titles that the heavenly officials made and of course those names spread. There's one title that used to be used quite often but you actually haven't heard any officials call you that in a long time. That title is "mûguô". Someone caught word of your past and decided to spread the name to upset you, but it faded out very quickly. That official -who you never even knew the name of- disappeared shortly after, with their temples burnt and no trace of them.

You're stuck in your thoughts until you hear Ling Wen answer Xie Lian's question about Banyue Pass. You leave the array, Xie Lian will tell you what's going on. When you look over at San Lang he's giving you a cheeky smile. "What?" You tilt your head but he just shakes his head.

You run your hands over your new braid while Xie Lian talks to Ling Wen. You mess with the red ribbon San Lang tied your hair with. It's definitely a pop out color compared to all the white you wear.

"San Lang, I'm afraid me and y/n will have to go far away soon" Xie Lian pipes up and stands from the... Thing on the ground. San Lang furrows a brow at the news and then gives a smug grin. "Why doesn't gege and y/n take me with them? I know a lot about Banyue Pass."

Xie Lian looks confused but he nods anyways. You wouldn't mind if San Lang came along either. "Oh? What do you know about Banyue Pass San Lang, you're far too young to know those things" you tease with a smile, while the three of you head inside the shrine.

San Lang chuckles and goes to speak before a knock on the door makes you all silent. You all look at each other in a moment of silence before Xie Lian opens the door.

When Xie Lian opens the door it reveals Mu Qing and Feng Xin who are in disguise... They are in a shocked silence not having seen you in a long time and to see your face after so long. You all sit in silence.

After you get over your shock you let out a panicked yelp and cover your face. They saw your face! Your cursed, cursed face! You shove your face into your hands. You didn't want Mu Qing to see it. He'd use it against you and you already hate him enough already. Feng Xin saw your face! He'll surely be disgusted with you now.

You start to groan into your sleeves, trying to move away from their eyes. You try to find your veil through the slits of your fingers. You can hear your name tumble from Feng Xin's lips but the door slams and someone whisks you away into their arms. They forcibly move your hands away from your face and now you can see that your face to face with red robes .

San Lang holds your wrists, and that stops you from hiding your face. "San Lang, my veil? Where's my veil?" You don't have a clue where he put it. Another pair of hands come into view and puts your veil over your eyes. You know it's Xie Lian.

Now that you can actually tell what your surroundings are you find that you're in San Lang's arms. You blush and step back. You hadn't meant to grip onto him so tightly.

__________________________________________________

Xie Lian sighs in relief when they find y/n's veil. Xie Lian is actually sad to see his face hidden again. He hasn't seen your face in so long and he missed it. Xie Lian supposes he doesn't mind though. If anyone deserves to see your beauty it's him and he actually doesn't want Feng Xin or Mu Qing to look. Xie Lian shakes his head to remove such thoughts. As if he could describe your face like it was a secret to keep between the three of you.

"I'm going to open the door now y/n" he pats your hand. He waits for your nod before opening the door again. He smiles nervously at the two officials outside. Of course Xie Lian knows who they really are but for now he'll pretend. "Ah why are you two here?"

Mu Qing and Feng Xin have crossed arms "Are you going to Banyue Pass? We're going with you" they say at the same time and then glare at each other. Xie Lian laughs but opens the door to let them inside. He looks at y/n keeping an eye on him. Xie Lian knows his temper.

When Feng Xin and Mu Qing see San Lang they're alarmed. Holding up their lighting, and fire. "Who's he?" Mu Qing nods his head at San Lang. Xie Lian sighs, "This is San Lang"

Feng Xin's eye twitches, "where did he come from? Where's his family? Do you usually invite people you don't know into your home?"

Xie Lian laughs nervously but he's glad that the attention isn't on y/n anymore.

Not until Mu Qing attempts to throw lightning at San Lang. It would have most definitely hit the wall and caused a big hole but y/n dispersed it. Sending a shot of ice towards Mu Qing. His face hides behind his veil but Xie Lian knows you're angry. "No fighting in the shrine. If you damage the shrine I promise to return the damage double to your god's palace" he spits with venom, threatening Mu Qing's palace.

It's evident y/n doesn't try to hide who he is. Sure he's in his avatar and he looks simple. However he doesn't do a good job at keeping his abilities at bay.

Xie Lian doesn't know whether to laugh or cry. The tension in the room is very high. Mu Qing looks ready to argue back but San Lang steps in front of y/n and stands by Xie Lian's side. "Are these two servants, gege?" He hums with a smug smirk.

"uhm something like that but not exactly-" Xie Lian gets interrupted when San Lang throws a broom into Mu Qing's hands. "Start helping then" San Lang smiles. His face resembles a mischievous fox. Y/n cackles.

Xie Lian waves his hands trying to calm a cursing Feng Xin and Mu Qing down. "Please for my sake leave him alone" he laughs nervously. He doesn't need his shrine to get destroyed not that y/n would let that happen.

Talking about y/n, ah. He's glaring at Mu Qing under the veil. He'll have to make sure they don't break out into a fight either. San Lang leans on y/n's shoulder and the stiffness seems to leave y/n's body. Xie Lian isn't too worried about anyone fighting. He thinks San Lang will keep a careful eye on y/n.

Xie Lian rubs his temple. "Maybe Feng Xin should make a pathway so that we can get to Banyue Pass quickly?"

Feng Xin does just that. Leaving Mu Qing standing alone in front of the three of them. "Is he coming with us?" Mu Qing points to San Lang with furrowed brows. Xie Lian sighs and goes to answer but y/n answers for him

"Of course, since when was it a servant's job to worry about his highness's friends?" Xie Lian drops his head when he realizes that Y/n has joined San Lang in his smart remarks.

Not only does he have to worry about one silver tongue but two. "Yes San Lang is coming with us. He knows a lot about Crescent Moon Pass and that's sure to help me" Xie Lian explains with a nervous smile.

Mu Qing is interrupted when Feng Xin cuts him off, "The pathway is finished". Mu Qing, ever the prideful looks at the pathway and shrugs, "I've seen better". Which leads to Feng Xin and Mu Qing bantering again.

Y/n interrupts them by activating the pathway. "Stop bickering like an old married couple let's go" San Lang snickers softly, "I never thought of that, they do bicker like an old married couple don't they" The two officials glare at San Lang and y/n. They smile back. Xie Lian only knows y/n is smiling because of his crow feet.

They all go through the portal. Xie Lian lets out a laugh, knowing that he's going to have to deal with all of the four's antics on their journey. Xie Lian is happy with his circus though.

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Tell me if it's good guys I don't have an editor 😭 so sometimes I'm not aware if my story is actually well written. Yeah, anyways if you wanna request something or see more lemme know 🥰 also y'all I'm pulling the timeline out of my ass. I have no clue if I'm doing it right or not 🙏😭

Should I continue the series? Yes or no?

Oh also if y'all actually wanna see my OC lemme know! I didn't draw it don't hate on me 🫵😐

If anyone reads this plz plz plz plz PLEASE tell me if my submission box is working! I know I'm not getting anything but I want to know if it works!

[etherealily]

​🇹​​🇭​​🇪​ ​🇱​​🇮​​🇳​​🇪​ // 𝘢𝘭𝘦𝘹𝘦𝘪 𝘷𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘬𝘺

Alexei Vronsky + fem!reader

Warnings : Cuss words.

You do NOT have permission to repost and/or translate any of my fics.

'Cross that line for me, sweetheart?'

Desc. : You are not a temptress, but he is tempted.

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It was curious, to say the least, how land was divided. The conch next to you was half your property and half the Vronsky estate's property. It had remained that way for ages.

The waves lapped up the sand, like a heart reaching desperately for its other half as you sat watching the entire ordeal.

The Line - one drawn up every morning and marked by tiny flags as placeholders - had always pissed you off. Intrigued you. What would happen if you were to... just a finger? The hem of your dress. Would you immediately be shot at by concealed snipers? Perhaps you'd have to be tried in court.

You had never really noticed much about this Vronsky character before. Another handsome, manipulative bastard. Nothing much.

In turn, he'd also never noticed you. A face. One of many. Beautiful, of course, he was not blind, but never seen as worthy of his efforts. You were not rebellious. You were not adorably innocent. He could not entice you. He could not corrupt you.

In theory, your paths were never to cross. Different lives, same circles.

The key word : theory.

Because there are moments in life when you know that nothing will ever be the same again, when you know that your proverbial pathway is forever skewed and rerouted. These may appear to you embossed in calamities such as loss and grief, or these may be whispered in your ear by silent smiles, lovestruck looks across a ballroom, or the simple offer of champagne.

Or, in the case of you and Alexei Vronsky, all of the above.

And this was one of those torturous, life-altering moments.

"-And that's when I said, it was just a bloody goat !"

Booming, drunken laughter ensued from your left - the other side of the Line. Fuck. Keep drawing, shut up, keep drawing, shut up.

Your pencil made unintelligible sounds as it scratched out a somewhat passable depiction of the moonlit waves. The screams and guffaws grew louder, but the issue was that if you moved, he'd assume you did it because you were on his side. You were not, but it would look highly suspicious if you fled.

No. They'd quietened down. Meaning either they left - highly unlikely - or, they'd noticed you.

"Oi!"

Don't respond, don't respond.

"You! Pretty girl!"

Drunk men are terrifying. How could such kind words be said in a way that made your skin crawl?

"Mate, maybe she's a mute. Or deaf. Or both."

"I know for a fact she's not. She's got quite a mouth on her, as I can remember from last year- HEY! LADY WITH THE SKETCHBOOK!"

And that was Alexei Vronsky. His story with the goat had ended, apparently. Ugh.

You turned. "Uh, hello."

"ARE YOU A MUTE?" his companion yelled.

"Are you daft? She just answered! How could she be mute?"

Drunk men are also idiotic.

"WHY DON'T YOU COME ON OVER HERE, WE'LL GIVE YOU SOMETHING TO DRAW?"

Bellowing laughter followed.

For fuck's sake.

"I'm alright, THANKS!"

"OI, C'MON! WE DON'T BITE!"

From what you'd heard, he does.

"IS IT 'CAUSE OF THAT LINE?"

"Good night, Count Vronsky.", you called back, as you gathered up your things and stood, dusting the sand off your dress.

"HOLD ON! WAIT!"

"Let'r go, mate, c'mon, we've got a party to get back to."

"I WAS JUST BEING NEIGHBOURLY, YOU BITCH!"

FUCKING HELL.

"What did you just call me?!", you yelled, turning. He looked back at you in a swaying, inebriated haze, trying to focus those glaciers he called eyes on yours in the darkness.

"A witch. You've cast a spell on me, bewitched me, so to speak. You're magic."

Ugh. "Whatever."

"Just come over here, or I'll have to come there, and you wouldn't like that.", he slurred, his friends chortling and egging him on.

Buggering Christ.

"You can't. See?", you replied defiantly, pointing deliberately at the faint white outline of the line they renewed every morning with chalk powder. "That would be trespassing."

"I'm Alexei Vronsky."

What was that supposed to mean?

"So? It's still trespassing. My family's had it in for you for a long time - we'll take you to court."

"Then you come here.", he shrugged, taking an unstable stumble closer. "Cross that line for me, sweetheart? Yeah?"

"You're a creep. And you're drunk."

"You're a beauty. And you're technically trespassing, so I need to punish you."

"HOW am I-"

"Your pencil." Fuck. How is it he's sober enough to notice that, but not sober enough to know that his buddy said 'the coat storage' not 'the goat story'?

"It blew in the wind."

"Yes. To my estate."

"You can keep it."

"Are you sure? Isn't this your, uh, fabulous pencil from Paris you were talking of?"

"No." Yes.

"No?", he frowned, picking it up. NO! Not in his grimy, disgustingly delicate fingers. "Seems pretty French to me."

"Are you actually inebriated or do you simply enjoy pretending to be so that you can get away with things?"

He stopped swaying, pointing the pencil in your direction as he placed the other hand behind his back. "You're sharp."

"So you're sober?"

Drunk Vronsky could have been molded. Sober Vronsky was a cunt.

"More or less. My friends feel left out because they are unable to hold their liquor as well as I can, so I act for them.", he explained, with a small look behind him, at his comrades trying to jump over the waves as they came.

"You should be in theatre, then."

"Adding performer to my resume is just a smidge too over-accomplished.", he retorted, an amused glint in his eye.

Ugh.

"So you're going to hold on to my pencil, then, I'm guessing."

"What? No, I know how much this means to you."

Trap. You'd bet your entire estate it was a trap.

"I will give it back.", he continued as he paced, his hand still placed behind his back as though he were planning war strategies. "On one condition."

See? Trap.

"Dinner. With me. Tomorrow."

Did he think this was a smart way to secure an evening with a woman?

"I won't be here tomorrow." Bold-faced lie, and he could tell.

"Then tonight. Right now." You couldn't think of anything you were doing.

"And I'll get my pencil back."

"Yes."

"That can't be it. There's a catch."

"You are... remarkable. Yes. There is.", he whispered, softly, as though impressed that you caught on. "Champagne. I wish to see you drunk. Drunk, in denial and... ruined."

Lot of darkness for someone who'd just been talking about a goat.

"In denial?"

"Nothing. Just... join me for dinner and drink a little, and I promise you shall have your pencil back."

"I do not drink."

"Then I do not return fancy French pencils."

"I can always purchase another."

"You do not have sentimentality, then?"

"No." Yes.

"I see. Then you may be on your way."

"I don't have to go anywhere. I have every right to be here! This is still my side of The Line."

"Suit yourself, darling."

The silence that followed was torturous and unbearable. "I do not like steak."

"Then you shall have no steak."

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His eyes focused on you from across the table, his spoon paused midway above his plate. Eyes like the ocean in a storm. Terrifying but alluring.

"Enjoying your not-steak?"

You hid a smile. "Yes, I am."

He nodded, bringing his spoon up to his lips as he watched you do the same.

"You've left your friends out there?"

"They know not to cross The Line. They will be alright."

"Why is it you wanted to have dinner with me? To trap me into trespassing?"

"I've wanted to speak with you since I first saw you." Lie.

"And I you." Lie.

"What was it you wished to say?"

"Simply a greeting. You?"

"The same."

He set down his spoon, scrunching up his napkin as he stood up and walked the short distance across the table to you, resting his hands on the back of your chair. "You promised you'd drink."

"I did?"

"You did.", he whispers, accepting the newly-uncorked bottle the servant handed him, and pouring it into the glass next to your plate, smoothly. "And you're a good girl who keeps promises, yes?"

You'd heard he loved using such degrading language, but this was the first time you'd seen it firsthand.

"What gave you that idea?"

"I just figured you were of proper breeding and were raised right."

Good answer.

"Well, the words 'I promise' never left my mouth."

"Well-bred women do not look for loopholes. And they most certainly do not argue."

Lord knows where he'd worked up the audacity to brush some hair off your shoulder, but perhaps he was born with it imbibed in his blood.

He narrowed his eyes at your unchanging expression. "Drink."

"I am not done with my food."

He breathes out loudly, taking your plate and thrusting it into the hands of the nearest servant. "Yes, you are."

"I still have dessert."

"No, you don't. Drink."

"This is not champagne. You said champagne."

"And you said you'd drink. We both have uttered falsities. Drink."

"I fear you may be trying to-"

"Poison you? I am not. I would not like to see you die."

Was that supposed to be some form of assurance? Romantic? Caring? That did not have the intended effect.

"Drink, lovely."

It irked you how invested he was to see you drunk.

You wrapped your fingers around the glass, bringing it to your lips. Tilting it upwards, you let the liquor cascade down your throat, and echoes of your sputtering filled the room - it burned.

He laughed heartily, shaking his head as he stroked your shoulder from behind you. "Do you know what that was?"

"No. But I do know I will not take another sip."

"It was vodka, my dear, and in a few moments, you will want more. Trust me."

"I'm not taking another sip of that ghastly liquid!"

"Not even for me? Not even if I begged?"

"You think your begging has any effect on me?"

"Doesn't it? I'm known to be quite persuasive, and- besides, aren't you supposed to be the empathetic one in the family?"

"And where did you hear that?"

"Just about everywhere, really.", he huffed, resting his elbow on the table as he knelt down by your side. "'Y/N is the nicest one. She cares the most. Empathetic.' Surely you are not telling me those are lies?"

"Not lies, but exaggerations, perhaps."

"I am quite literally on my knees, Y/N, and you should realize how rare that is. Drink more or I will have to force you."

You frowned at him.

"I will do it. Force you. Don't think that because I have let you in my house so courteously that I will continue to be a gentleman with you."

"How could you be? You're nothing but a cad.", you scoffed, as you took another stingingly painful gulp.

He watched the glass, your tongue, your throat, almost mesmerized as he replied. "A cad?", he questioned softly, amused but still fascinated by your every movement.

"A cad.", you nodded, trying not to show how much you were gasping for breath. It hurt, satisfyingly.

"That's a first. No one has ever said 'oh, Alexei Vronsky, that cad'.", he murmured against his palm as he observed you meticulously.

"Then they have met a different person."

"You say this out of personal experience, do you?"

"I've met him. The Alexei Vronsky. He only thinks of one thing."

A lilt of his lips. "And that is?"

"Himself."

He concealed a grin.

"Or perhaps...", he mused, fingertips on the back of your neck as though he were playing your skin as one would a piano. "He is one who shows different versions of himself to different people."

"So he is deceitful."

"I'd say careful."

"Would you, now?"

"I think we put up far too many false pretences anyway. No point in fighting it - it is necessary, to be part of society."

"And what false pretences am I putting up, in your expert opinion?"

He smiled, one too pure to match the description you had so harshly delivered a moment before, but you knew more than most that it was a ruse. "Drink more."

"You're an incredibly demanding man, aren't you? Dine with me. Drink more. Not a single please, nor thank you.", you retorted, as though that could take away from the fact that you obeyed.

"When you are incredibly in demand, you learn to be incredibly demanding."

If ever a smoother talker existed, you'd wager he'd simply be Alexei Vronsky in disguise.

"So tell me, then. Are you a gentleman, a cad, or an opportunist, Count Vronsky?"

You had to steer the conversation back to him, because whatever this vilely beguiling liquor was, it was shooting through your veins at a rate too fast to risk talking about yourself, lest any family secrets spilled out.

"I am whatever you want me to be. And you? Are the rumours true? Are you a virgin, a temptress, or a genius?"

"I am whatever I want to be. For tonight."

"Come morning?", he murmured against your neck as he slipped a finger under a loose strand of hair, and twirled it with such dedication you would think that were his only purpose in life.

"A memory."

"Well, we can't have that.", he pouted, as he stood up, gently taking the glass away from you and finishing the last of it. "What does it take for a memory to stay in the present?"

"Vronsky-"

"A dance, perhaps, as they say you enjoy?"

If you weren't unsure of the functionality of your motor skills in your drunken haze, you'd have punched him right then and there.

"The rumours aren't true, you know?"

"What rumours?", he asked, feigning obliviousness.

He'd just spoken of them, but you were quite sure if you reminded him, he'd attribute it to the vodka. Tell you you were 'surely imagining things, dear one'.

"The ones that led you to come and have a go at me."

"Those? Oh, I didn't believe them for a second.", he grinned, his eyes examining the filthiest, most remote parts of your soul - ones that even you had never been privy to.

A moment washed over the both of you, tauntingly. You looked for any secrets in his eyes, and he looked for any in yours, albeit, more calmly than you.

"Come.", he mumbled, finally, offering his hand for you to get up out of his disgustingly well-crafted chair. "Let's get you back on your side of The Line."

══════════════════ ⋆🍷⋆ ══════════════════

"There. Oh, and here. I am of proper manners.", he added after you'd leapt over The Line, handing your pencil back over to you.

It felt oddly anticlimactic after the events of the evening.

His icy blue eyes - striking, so striking that they pierced you - fell onto your lips for just a moment before landing on the pencil in your hand. "You don't want it back."

"What? Of course I do."

He had you. He was onto you.

"Let me rephrase. You don't need it back."

"Sentimentality. Of course I do."

"You really don't want it to stay in my possession, instead?"

"No."

"Liar.", he smirked, his lips curving deliciously, and you just about lost it. "You know I'll take very good care of it, no? Like I took care of you, tonight. No complaints, yes?"

"Besides the aggressive persuasion to drink a fiery liquid that most probably burnt my throat off, no."

"You exaggerate. Tell me tonight was just another of your dull nights. Tell me I haven't been a source of reprieve from your tedious, mundane days of fakeness and gossip."

You scoffed, refusing to dignify that with a reply, although you already knew that any response- or lack thereof - would be all too telling.

"You cannot, can you?"

There was nothing you hated more than when men were right.

Especially men who were as captivating as Vronsky. It was unnecessary and dangerous.

He beamed, clearly so fucking proud of himself, as he looked out at the waves. "It is a lovely dress you are wearing."

No, it wasn't. It was the most commonplace of dresses one could wear. But he'd say it anyway. Because that was his play.

"Thank you."

"It is disgusting, though."

"In what way? A disgusting display of my wealth, or disgustingly lovely?"

He knelt down next to you from the other side, on the sand. "It is disgusting that such beauty and purity like yours can exist and people continue to slander its name."

Had you been a lesser woman, you'd have fallen for it.

It seemed, however, that he knew you wouldn't. It was confusing, to say the least, whether he was being genuine or being genuinely fake.

"It is how I live."

If you'd read him right, he should say something along the lines of...

"It shouldn't be."

There.

"However... the dress in itself is not disgusting?"

"No, it is spectacular- although, I must say, the woman wearing it is far more ravishing."

Games get boring when they are predictable.

"So. What is it you normally do after parties, since you cannot get drunk? Unless blackmailing women to dine with you and drink your vodka is your usual pastime."

He snickered, although a slight maliciousness infiltrated his gaze for a moment. "It isn't so much a pastime as... an unfortunately common occurence. Perhaps that's why you've got an opinion of me as a - how'd you put it?"

"A cad."

"Ah, yes, a cad. I wonder if your opinion has changed."

That was not hope in his eyes, no. That was a challenge. 'Go ahead, Y/N, say no. If you dare.', his look said.

"I wonder that, too. Perhaps it will if you keep your promise."

"Promise?", he repeated, raising a brow. He knew. He knew all too well what you were saying.

"False pretences.", you reminded, watching him as he watched the waves distort the light of the moon. "You said you would tell me what false pretences you think I put up."

He was far too close. The incredibly fragile, entirely imaginary Line wouldn't be able to stop him from reaching over and touching your shoulder once more.

"I think... do you want to know what I think?"

"I might."

"I think that you're lying when you brush off the rumours."

"You think I am a slut? A temptress?" Now, suddenly, the monotonous nature of everyday seemed far more interesting than the thousandth iteration of the same conversation.

"No, I think you brushing them off is the lie. They affect you far too much." Alright. That was... progress.

"Do they, now?"

"Very much. And there is one more, as well, although I doubt you will like to hear it. You crave to prove them right."

Congratulations, Alexei Vronsky, you've caught my attention.

"That is an extremely, extremely bold suggestion."

"Yet you are not denying it."

"I do not wish to have my virtue questioned, Vronsky, and us having dinner does not change that."

"But it pokes at it, does it not? A slight scratch, an itch, asking if that is what you really want. It blurred the lines, did it not?"

Shut up, shut up, shut up.

"You're an incredibly delusional man, Count Vronsky."

"A delusional cad."

"Precisely."

You didn't miss the amusement in his tone, the laughter, the way he knew how perfectly right he was.

"Well, this delusional cad did not lie, earlier. You truly have bewitched me, my dear, and I do not think I shall ever turn you down."

He stood up, dusting the sand off his gloves and pants. You stood up too, not out of respect, but out of the desire to relish his face once more.

"Turn me down?"

"When you inevitably ask for me when your marriage is dry, lifeless and torturous."

Good lord. How long had he been- how far ahead was he thinking?

"I will be right here. On this side."

"Why are you so adamant that my marriage will be-"

"Because I'm the one you need. You've broken quite literally every rule tonight. Crossed the line, fraternized with the enemy, drank unfamiliar alcohol that could so easily have been poisoned or used against you."

"How does that make you the one I-"

"I'm taking you out of your comfort zone. Freeing you. What more would one want from a lover?"

So casual with that word. Lover. As though that was all you two had been, since the beginning.

"Have I mentioned that you're-"

"Delusional? Yes, you have. But you have also yet to mean it."

Who the hell allowed this man to be so confident?

His thumb rubbed against your cheek in pure tenderness that you are well-prepared for - you've learnt over the years he's unpredictable, and since his mercurial nature was the only predictable thing about him, it was easy for you to guess his next move.

Or at least, figure out that it would be the exact opposite of the tone of his words.

"I can help you, you see?", he said, words so faint they were almost whisked away in the sea breeze. "Honest."

"Was that the point of tonight?"

"No, the point of tonight was to get you so utterly inebriated that you would tell me your family's secrets, and hence, your own."

That was the only thing that had come out of his mouth all night that you could guarantee was the truth.

"And since that did not happen, you are doing this?"

"No, I couldn't let that happen. Unwrapping you, figuring you out, it is far too intriguing a task to complete with a glass of vodka and enticing words. I want to spend years, decades, the rest of my life, performing this task, revealing you slowly and addictively, until I have lost myself or driven myself crazy trying to reach the core of your soul."

The silence kissed you two over and over until you couldn't take it anymore. "You are terrifyingly good at this."

He almost looked like he was about to say 'at what', but it seemed his mood had turned too serious to coax a half-hearted insult out of you.

"And you are terrifying. You are like the eye of a storm, intricately, almost... sinisterly drawing me closer."

"I'm not sure what you want me to-"

His lips devoured your words, and you could not help but think that this night had progressed far too rapidly to your liking. He was a stranger, a random man who you shared nothing but a flimsy little line with, but here you were, letting him kiss you, letting him ruin you, letting him convince you with his words that this was a good idea.

"Come on, darling.", he murmured against your lips, his eyes still half-lidded in a triumphant haze. "Cross the line. I promise, I'll take care of you."

You surrendered, and all you could do was hope that his beauty was simply angelic in nature, and was not designed for the sole purpose of ruining you and every iota of self-respect you had.

Hard to tell, but perhaps he had meant it that way.

[tenderleavesbob]

It used to be a fort. That much was clear. Wild admitted, guilt clear on his scarred face, that he couldn't remember much about it. If he had more to say, it was lost in Twilight's quiet comfort and distraction.

Whatever it used to be, it seemed like a safe enough place for a camp now. Warriors wandered away from their main camp and the chatter around the fire. The farther he walked, the quieter everything grew.

Despite the lingering mess of monsters and their long-abandoned camps, the fort held a strange, haunting beauty. Orange and red leaves floated through the air, and the gentle breeze carried both the cold bite of late fall and the sweet scent of apples. It was clear that Hylian soldiers once lived and died here, but it was equally clear that it was a long time ago.

A hundred years ago. So close and yet so far away.

Warriors paused in the middle of what appeared to be a courtyard. He tilted his head back and listened. The cold breeze rustled his hair, and the chill bite was beginning to hurt his ears.

No monsters. No other oddities, of which Wild's era was far too full. Only the sweet sound of birdsong in the trees surrounding the fort.

No ghosts. Warriors found his ears twitching, expecting to hear long dead voices. Only silence. He hoped those brave, lost warriors had found peace in the Calamity's demise.

The fort itself was familiar in the way all forts were and unfamiliar with the understanding that he had never stepped foot in it before. The chain guessed that Warriors's era came before Wild's in the timeline, but no one had any clue as to when. At least thousands of years separated their eras. This fort was probably created long after Warriors's time.

Yet Warriors looked around this empty fort and his heart ached. How many forts had been lost and won back during the war? How many soldiers and Knights lost to Cia's and Ganon's forces? How many had been under his direct protection and died?

Wild admitted quietly to Warriors around the campfire, when it was only them, that he felt guilty for not only his failure to defend these people but failure to remember them. Warriors had tried to comfort him as best as he could. He couldn't remember what he told Wild. It hadn't been Wild's fault. He knew that much and had told Wild that much. They had not been Wild's responsibility.

During the war, they had been Warriors's. The forts hadn't been empty then. There had been no sweet scent of apples in the air. There had only been --

"There you are," Legend drawled, walking up to Warriors. He kicked leaves as he went. He looked so much like an indolent teenager that Warriors had to smile a little. "It's getting late. Were you planning on joining the pretty statues out here or what?"

The pretty, broken statues. Warriors's smile cracked a little. "You can't blame a man for wanting a moment of peace from you crazy kids."

Legend scoffed. His eyes were dark with concern as he looked Warriors over. Looking for wounds? What did he think Warriors was up to here? "Like you aren't as bad as us. Twilight is still talking about your trick with Wild. C'mon. Hyrule and Wind collected some apples, and Wild is going to make some pie."

To Warriors's surprise, Legend extended a hand to Warriors and waited, one eyebrow raised expectantly. Warriors stared at him. He felt disoriented, like he had one foot in a burnt down fort and another foot in this fort with Legend. He was a little dizzy with it.

"C'mon," Legend said. His voice was soft and coaxing. He twitched his fingers toward Warriors. "You can bullshit all you want, but we all know you have a sweet tooth."

The scent of blood and smoke faded, replaced by apples again. He hadn't even noticed those old shadows rising again. "I don't know what you're talking about," Warriors lied, reaching out and grabbing Legend's hand. He might have held on tighter than he meant, but Legend said nothing. "I told you, Wind ate that pie."

"Yeah, yeah." Legend squeezed his hand and started walking back to the camp. Warriors was forced to follow, leaving the courtyard behind. "Wind, the guy who was on the other side of the farm with Four and Hyrule."

"Exactly," Warriors agreed.

Slowly, the sound of their voices faded from the courtyard. Eventually, there would only be the sound of birdsong again.

"Wind doesn't even like blueberry pie."

"That's a lie and we all know it."

If there were the soft whispers of long-dead ghosts, there was no one there to hear them.

[utilitycaster]

Wizard Breakdown Tracker: Downfall part 3

Ultimately, I associate the Wizard Breakdown Tracker with Aeor; I began it during the middle of the Nein's Aeor arc, and even bringing it back for the Nein reunions feels like it's missing something. That thing, it turns out, is a city of Wizard Hubris.

There are no wizard PCs so we can dispense with the formalities. For the purposes of this post, while The Raven Queen is an ex-wizard, Emhira isn't and is counted as a warlock, and The Raven Queen is counted as just a straight up god. As always, in no particular order, and if a wizard is not mentioned it's because I didn't have anything funny nor serious enough to say about them.

Calamity-era Wizards

Adamar: literally no idea. I think he was stressed but he got vaporized by Meteor Swarm (completely within the realm of mortal achievement btw; Imogen Temult could take it in 4 levels) before things really broke bad. Like 7/10; he was in pitched combat but he had 3 dragons and a bunch of demons on his side.

Primarch Selena: There are going to be a few wizards in this who truly do embody a more profound breakdown than anything we've seen before. Selena is one. What does it mean to be so good at creating a mortal-made form of life that the god of beauty chooses to reside in this when picking a vessel? What does it mean to realize in the same instant that your life's work is what doomed you and its target is standing in front of you and now holds your life in their hands? In the end, she doomed her city twice while also actively repenting; it's not just gods who contain multitudes and conflict. But also 10/10.

Arcadia Cerenvetorix: Well, she got tricked by Asmodeus and stuffed in a bottle. Asmodeus did a good job of imitating her too which, as a deity of truth and knowledge cannot feel great, to know that Guy Whose Thing Is Lying has your number even if he is technically lying and therefore in his wheelhouse in pretending to be you. Then she gets let out having been saved by SILAHA, who as a result of saving her, cannot stop Selena. I have to imagine this series of consequences drives some of her decision making in the very end, although at that point she is technically not a wizard and therefore out of the scope of this post. Anyway, 9/10; she did almost die.

Cassida Previn: There's no option for this other than 10/10. Her revelations were delivered with far less kindness than even Selena's; we see her break. She has time to consider that her good intentions have doomed Aeor as well as find the deity she's risked execution to serve is a more complicated being than what she expected and does not approve of her greatest act of service. And that's before we consider that the Society of Primes is implied to have not been successful (we don't know, since the Factorum Malleus is never fired, so it could be a bluff; but the Primes are heavily indicated to be in just as much danger) and that's also before her final moments are being presumably tortured by Asmodeus. I don't know if she really renounced The Everlight; Asmodeus lies, but it's not an unexpected consequence. As The Everlight says, it doesn't matter; she was well within her rights to feel however she felt in those last moments and it does not erase all that she did before. If she didn't it was a lie from Asmodeus, and if she did, she is forgiven entirely.

Those guys who were dragons for a hot second: Honestly? What a way to go. I wouldn't even be mad. 6/10.

The Wizards In The Cognouza Ward: THEY LEFT SO EARLY. AND FOR WHAT. Like, yes, yes, you want to show the moment so you have to do it pretty early on because you won't have the viewpoint of the divine entities later on since they'll be in the Genesis Ward, but COME ON MAN. It really is like...you could have been The Ring of Brass to Aeor. If you wanted to sound the early warning you could have done some strategic teleporting of as many people you could get onto Exandria, despite the storm, and hell, you could have taken a long rest and planeshifted the next fucking day if you had to go to the Astral Plane so badly but nooooo you had to fuck everyone else over. I mean does anyone deserve a millennium of madness and horror as Cognouza eventually became? no. But like, maybe a few years for this bullshit. 5/10 because it isn't bad yet because they jumped the fucking gun. and again. for what.

843 PD Wizards watching this or just hanging out elsewhere

Essek Thelyss: I imagine he is like those pictures of the math lady except he fully understands the math. Absolute mind blown. Trying to figure out the Luxon's relationship to Tengar if there is one. Wondering why Aeor was working on Cognouza and the Factorum Malleus and not their various Luxon experiments. Trying to figure out if the gods used the same principle as consecution. Trying to reconcile the image of Lolth as weirdly adorable with the horrors he knows his people escaped. Also he has been watching a movie for like 13-ish hours but I wonder if floating means his legs haven't fallen asleep. 6/10.

Allura Vyesoren: I really like to imagine she messaged one of Bells Hells and they were like "can I call you back later we're watching a movie" and she is just like I am getting too old for this shit. 4/10 in like, the relative sense of all wizards in this 843 PD narrative are dealing with an existential threat but like within that context, 4/10.

Caleb Widogast: I feel like the Nein would be best deployed to Ria'Doin but he might be on some other weird mission given that Essek was sent to Aeor in his place, and hopefully, we get a one-shot out of this. For me. Anyway though for practical reasons he did just hear from Essek recently and Trent seems gone for good so, within the broader "Ludinus Da'leth is fucking over existence" context, also like a 4/10.

Yussa Errenis: Really hard to tell! What unhinged fuckery that doesn't require physically leaving the house is this small bastard (affectionate) up to. Is he on the moon? Is Nicodranas on a nexus point thus sending him to some far-flung region of Exandria? Did he try to question Halas and get trapped in the gem? Is he just ignoring Iva Deshin? Anyway given his track record I am going to say 9/10 and he is in some kind of peril that is low-key his own fault, but it's anyone's guess.

Astrid Becke: Imagine being screwed over so hard you have to go undercover in retail. I think that fantasizing over who gets to land a killing blow in D&D Actual Play is not terribly interesting; what happens happens, and such fantasies are usually a dull slog of "who is wronged most" which is never good. With that said I don't think she is the most wronged, if that's even a metric one can know; and also I know this is not going to happen given her very tangential nature as a minor NPC in the story being told here; and I don't think I am speaking about a just or kind world in this fantasy; but in a world that aims for justice but lands in pettiness, she would get the final blow on Ludinus Da'leth. 7/10.

Ludinus Da'leth: There's a tumblr-famous post in which someone makes a lot of wild-ass claims about the status of, iirc, women who spun thread in medieval Europe and then when people were like "I don't think that's right" posted a fuckload of links and the phrase "*steeples fingers*" and then someone actually clicked on the links and was like "uh none of these back up your point, actually; most of them have little to do with it and what few do address it either contradict what you are saying, or are similarly unsourced from non-experts." Anyway I think we can all see the value in checking the citations and vetting your sources here, a lesson The Martinet seems to have failed to internalize. He is however either at a 3/10 or an 8/10 depending on precisely how up his own ass he is and whether he realizes he showed footage far too complicated to make but a single easy argument.

[thezoraprince]

Flowers - Link x reader

Title: Flowers - Link x Reader Words : 700+ (701)

y/n - your name

(i like to imagine Link signing, so the dialogue for him is italicized for that reason)

The light flickered through the tree leaves just outside Link’s bedroom window. You opened your eyes to find yourself laying in his bed with his arms loosely wrapped around you. You don’t quite remember how you ended up here, but you smiled, knowing he must have carried you in after you’d already fallen asleep somewhere. He was pretty good at finding you when you did. It was quite common, actually; the soft grass against your skin made it pretty easy to doze off, not to mention the countless times you’d had to make do while traveling. 

Watching Link as he slept was almost like a dream. It was a rarity to see him so… still. You brushed the hair from his eyes and gently stroked his cheek with your thumb. He looked so handsome when he slept. Not to say that he wasn’t already handsome, but with the Calamity finally being over, he just looked so at ease. 

As you lifted up to get out of bed, his grip on you tightened. But, he was still sound asleep, lightly snoring. You giggled softly at him, untangling yourself from him to get up and make yourself some tea.

You headed downstairs and peeked out the kitchen window. There was Bolson and Karson, sitting where they usually sit in the yard. You figured they had just gotten back from visiting with Hudson and Rhondson. You opened the door and walked out to greet them.

“Care for some tea?” you asked.

Bolson smiled at you. “You know I would never turn down morning tea.”

You went back inside to get the kettle and some cups and headed back out. The three of you sat in the grass with your cups of tea, chatting about how beautiful the the flowers are this time of year. They were both pleased to see that you had planted some around the house. 

“What kind of flowers are those, anyway?” Bolson asked.

“I was wondering the same. I don’t think I’ve ever seen them before.” Karson added.

You were happy to tell them. “They’re called ‘Silent Princess’.”

They both looked at you with a questioning expression.

“They’re pretty rare, but Link had found quite a few on his journey.” You got up and walked over to the flowers to examine them. “Zelda said that with a little help, she thinks they can be domesticated.”

“Well, they’re very beautiful.” Bolson replied, just before taking another sip of tea.

Karson was more than excited to learn about them. “Maybe we could find and plant some at our place!"

Bolson stood up, cup still in hand. “We’ll see, Karson.” He turned to you with a smile. “Thank you for tea, y/n. You’re always a pleasure to sit and chat with.”

“Yeah!”

You took the tea cups from the both of them. “Thank you. You both are so kind. Feel free to come over for tea anytime.”

“Thank you for your hospitality, as always.”

Bolson and Karson made their way toward the town, Karson waving as they left. You couldn’t help but to smile as they walked away. The both of them were a treat to have around. You went back inside, set the dishes on the counter, and headed back up the stairs to find Link still sleeping. 

Gently, you crawled back into bed and wrapped your arms around him. He rolled over to face you, eyes still closed. His hair was surprisingly messier than it was earlier. You once again went to brush the hair out of his eyes. Link wrinkled his nose and slowly opened his eyes. Upon seeing you, he smiled and pulled you in to cuddle.

“Good afternoon, love.” you whispered.

He looked at you with a cheesy grin. “Hi.”

“You missed out this morning.” You started. “Bolson and Karson were here, and they really like the flowers.” 

“Of course they do.” He yawned.

You giggled at his reply before turning to get out of bed again. Link grabbed your hand quickly, just before you got out of his reach. “Yes?”

“Please stay in bed.”

“Link…”

“I just want to hold you for a little while longer.” He pouted, staring at you with those blue eyes. “Please?”

[hotvintagepoll]

Propaganda

Jean Arthur (Mr. Smith Goes to Washington, Easy Living, The Talk of the Town)—Always found the best facial expression and the perfect line delivery, so nailed the transition from silent film to talkies (her voice is CRAZY btw- high and overly sweet but also so gravelly she's like a breakfast parfait), then went on to dominate roles in multiple genres well into her 50s. Such a great personality both onscreen and off, and to our end pulls off 'gorgeous,' 'sexy,' and 'cute' all at once (in a word: hot!)

Juanita Moore (Imitation of Life)— She was the third black actress to be nominated for Best Supporting Actress! She was also friends with James Baldwin (!) and got her other friend Marlon Brando (!!) to finance his play. She also met her husband of fifty years by nearly being hit by his bus which should be in a romcon, tbh. There's also a whole documentary about how she'd been ignored and overlooked due to Hollywood racism, so she deserves more attention!

This is round 2 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]

Jean Arthur:

i had to submit every movie of hers ive seen so far because 1) shes GORGEOUS. 2) extremely gifted with comic timing and delivery and whats better than a confident beautiful woman that makes you laugh. and 3) seems to effortlessly blend wit emotion and logic in her performances in a way that sometimes is just so... it tells you as much about the other characters shes interacting with as it does her own (see this clip from mr smith)

Adorable and sultry with a voice that went from urban smartass to sounding, as director Frank Capra described it, more like tinkling bells than a voice has a right to sound

jean arthur wearing bucksin trousers and a little hat in the plainsman was fully my queer awakening. i love that woman so much. she has defined calamity jane for me. also she is adorable and heartbreaking and SMOKING HOT in deeds like everyone needs to experience her, she's everything to me

She's a chameleon, rocking any hair colour and any style, any mood and any genre. And she's got such a fine, captivating smile!

Truly amazing talking voice, like eating pop candy. Played wise cracking gals with hearts of gold. Once got arrested for trespassing because she went to console a dog that was being mistreated. Angel. Star. Baby. Winner!

Juanita Moore:

[mrsoharaa]

After storming off from a serious, heart wrenching argument with the boys in the lodge they had rented out for the three of you, with your feet heavily stomping amongst the mahogony wood beneath you and eyes blurred with thick, heavy tears - you quietly sniff up a silent breath and barged yourself outside onto the porch.

The sound of violent, yet surprisingly calming downpour, welcoming you to it's boundless rapture of natural contentment. The distant howls of low winds and brewing thunder rumbling amongst the muggish clouds hanging from above.

Your feet immediately takes you to the strut of the wooden railing shielding the porch from the side. You weightlessly lean majority of your body forward in a prompt motion. Tipping your head back slightly, just to dip it back down to fight the upbringing tears. Hoping in all odds, the sound of the distant thunder and the pattering rain conceals your obvious, unraveled distraught. Hurt clinging tightly against your heaving chest, anger and emptiness slowly clawing their way under your prickled skin.

It only takes but a few minutes that you find yourself lost into the wonderment of the dreary weathers refinement. Finding a tinge of tranquility and refreshment within the droopy, clashing weathers beautiful chaos. You inhale a deep breath and let the moisten weather soak into your fragile soul.

Your weighted eyes and hazy head hardly shifts from their current sight as the sound of the front door from the cabin creaks open, a pair of heavy footsteps reverberating through the muggy air, into your ears.

Nothing but uncomforting, dreadful silence hangs in the air.

You don't mutter a word, only keeping your strict gaze out into the open of the brittle rain descending down from the greyish clouds.

Your nails dig into the rugged moisten wood beneath your palms, your chest begins to feel heavy once more. Afraid of what's to come after partaking in that messy storm that the three of you had just erupted from. The thickening tears gradually glossing over, threateningly.

"...Angel" your lips involuntarily sputter over pitifully at the soft calling of Suguru's tender voice. Your heart plummeting fiercely against your weighted chest, your nails scrapping deeper into the damped wood.

You, of course, being strong willed and impeccably hard-headed, ignored the cooing tone of his angelic voice. Letting all rationality of your fogged mind dissipate from it.

You were hurt, who could blame you.

They surely couldn't.

Not after how they treated you — spoken to you, like you were some inconsiderate, selfish incompetent child.

"Baby, please we didn't — we didn't mean to say any of those things to you" Your gut wrenches painfully at the soft whisper of Satoru's murmured tone, a hefty trace of guilt and remorse filling his pretty voice.

Fuck, are you crying now?

The feeling of thick, wet streams of water began to cascade down from the ends of your lashes to the cold plush of your cheeks. Your heart quickly shattering into the deep depths of your clenching stomach. Your vulnerability finally descending upon you. Forcing you to drop to your knees and bawl into the balmy flats of your palms.

The sound and sight of your sudden break down, immediately floods the two leering men's souls. Instant heartache and soul calamity forced their towering bodies to swiftly drop to the empty spaces on each side of you. Wrapping their prolong limbs all around the smaller stature of your curled body, reeling you into the conflicting comfort of their sturdy statures.

Satoru consistently kisses the top of your head, gently holding you into the warmth of his long arms. As Suguru cradles close to you, one hand wrapping around your lower waist in a close embrace as the other softly, easily cups both of your shaky hands within his. Rubbing soft circles along your pliable skin. Murmurs of wooing praises and constant apologies from both of the guilt ridden men.

"I...I just hate the fact...that I can never stay mad at either of you..." you heavily whimper between weighing sobs, their hearts twisting profusely at the sound of your broken voice. Their embrace around you only tightening and unwavering.

"No matter h-how much you hurt me...I — fuck" you stammer over your shaky words with faint breaths and tightened sobs.

They both gaze at each other, lingered pain and resentment dwelling in the midst of their eyes.

"Sweetheart, we truly didn't mean a single word that was said to you back inside the cabin, honestly" Suguru starts, lulling in closer to your scrunched figure, hoping in all odds that the comfort of his overcasting body would bring you some source of comfort.

And going against all your hurt, all the pain that washed all over you...you did find the tiny spec of contentment and safety in the warmth of the crowding mens languid limbs. Finding the overwhelming zen and love in the plains of their stocky bodies. Not a single trace of deception or resentment entangled in their radiating auras. Only pure, unyielding love for you. One of purity and sentimentality.

"We love you so much baby...so, so much" Suguru whispers softly against your head longingly, giving gentle subtle kisses against it as he continues to stroke his thumb across your cupped hands.

"We were just being...ridiculous and extremely negligent" He continues, still peppering your head with caressing kisses and warm, honest words of sweet tenderness.

"We never meant to hurt you like this, sweetness...we just want to hold you, to make you feel better...to love you baby, please...let us love you" Satoru leans his head on top of yours, slightly leaning his own weight onto yours as he wallows you in a sea of sentimentality and sincerity.

"In the midst of all of this chaos, there was only you to guide us...to embrace us with such adoration and love"

[smilesrobotlover]

Chapter 2- The Upheaval

First

AO3

Summary: it’s been three years since Calamity Ganon attacked Hyrule, and everyone was recovering well from it. Until the strange substance gloom appeared, making people sick when they touched it. Wanting to find answers, Zelda and the champions went beneath the castle against her father’s wishes to try to solve the problem. Meanwhile, the King of Hyrule hopes to use Impa’s help in interrogating master Kohga about the gloom, despite the Yiga leader knowing very little about it. Little did they all know, that a great threat was brewing beneath Hyrule castle, waiting for a seal to break.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The world was bathed in golden sunlight, with bright green trees scattered across the town and the castle courtyards. It was warm, with a gentle breeze that rustled the leaves and grass, making a quiet shh sound through the air. The birds were chirping cheerily as they flew through the wind, and it overall was a beautiful day. Yet none of it calmed the unease Rhoam had lurking in his heart. He felt nauseous as he walked through the halls of the castle, his chest feeling as if it were constricted which made his breathing shallow. Sweat dripped down his forehead as a lump remained in his throat, but he made an effort in hiding his true feelings from everyone that saw him as they passed down the halls. Fortunately there weren’t a lot of maids or guards in the hallways, and he was mostly alone with his two bodyguards: a Hylian from Hateno named Ammon and a Hylian from Lurelin named Orman. But even then he didn’t let his true emotions out. He needed to be strong right now, to be an anchor and a sign of hope for his people. Especially now more than ever.

Three years. Three years have passed since the calamity, yet Hyrule was already showing signs of danger. A strange substance called gloom had appeared in the castle; it stuck to the walls, the floors, and poisoned the trees that were nearby. The gloom was only there for a month, yet it spread all the way to Castle town, wreaking havoc on the people. Zelda made an effort to research the gloom, sending out researchers to make sure it wasn’t malice. To their relief, it wasn’t, yet to their despair it was far worse than malice. Anyone who came into contact with malice would get severe burns from the substance—it was painful, but easily treatable. Gloom, however, fatigued those who touched it. It sucked all hope and life out of them, and all they could do was to lay there until the terrible feelings went away. It took weeks for the first person infected to feel well, and the hospitals were being filled quickly with patients who remained stagnant in their recovery. Many researchers, Zelda included, had theories that the substance was a strange fungi or mold, but none of its characteristics matched such things. It was becoming overwhelming, and a dreadful thought of another disaster striking their fragile and recovering kingdom was becoming too much for Rhoam. The calamity took its toll on him, and he’s surprised he didn’t suffer a heart attack during it.

He took over every responsibility he was able to during the calamity in an attempt to get Zelda to focus on awakening her power. It was the only piece they needed, therefore it was top priority. Everyday being met with scorn, stress, criticism, and fear over what would befall his kingdom.

Her kingdom.

His wife’s responsibility, soon to be his daughter’s. He’d done everything he could to make sure she still had a kingdom to inherit. But now he feared it was going to crumble at their feet with this new threat. They couldn’t handle another calamity.

And Rhoam could feel himself growing ill from the fear.

A desire to take over everything again so his daughter wouldn’t have to endure any of the stress almost overtook him, but he knew he couldn’t do it this time. Zelda was twenty now—she was capable, strong, and despite still being timid, she was a remarkable leader. He didn’t trust her back then and it nearly cost him his life. He couldn’t make that same mistake now. He couldn’t hurt her again.

Rhoam made it to his room and he nodded at his bodyguards, who understood that he wished to be left alone. They remained outside his door as he entered, ignoring the strong desire to fall onto his soft bed. Instead, he walked across the large room, opened the door to his balcony, and looked out across his kingdom, soon to be Zelda’s. He allowed his mind to go blank as he stared, Castle town almost looking like a ghost town as most of its inhabitants were either inside or moved out.

It was far too similar to the calamity.

A gentle knock came at his door, and he turned as it opened slowly. To his surprise, his daughter peeked her head through, her brows drawn together as she nervously eyed Rhoam. She rarely came into his room.

“Zelda,” he greeted, forcing a smile as he went to greet her. “And to what do I owe this pleasure?”

Zelda also forced a small smile back and stepped inside. She stopped right in front of him and stood up straight as if she were a soldier awaiting orders. It hurt Rhoam’s heart to see his own daughter acting in such a way around him, but he couldn’t blame her. It was his own fault for such a dynamic happening.

“Father, I came to ask you something,” she started, her voice soft and nervous. She was going to ask him something he didn’t approve of. It was all too familiar to him. “This gloom is growing dangerous, and we need to find a way to deal with it.” she shifted slightly, her hands fidgeting with each other. “But the only way we can do that is to find out where it’s coming from.”

Rhoam let out an exasperated sigh. He knew it. “Zelda, going beneath the castle is forbidden. It has been for thousands of years.”

“I-I know, but the further we go under the castle, the more gloom that shows up.” She straightened herself again, clearly trying to appear confident. “It’s not just on the walls, but it’s in the air.”

“Then it is no place for you, my daughter,” Rhoam said simply. Even if the gloom originated from beneath the castle, he wasn’t going to let his daughter of all people explore it. She frowned slightly and sighed.

“Haven’t you ever wondered why we’re not allowed down there? Nothing from my studies answered why, none of the kings and queens before us answered why. Why must we follow their directions blindly when clearly the answer to the gloom is where it’s forbidden?”

Rhoam thought for a moment. He couldn’t blame Zelda for wanting answers; he remembered he was the same way when he first married into the family. But his wife made it very clear to not travel below the castle. He found it silly, but he knew better than to question the royal family. After a moment of thinking, he finally shook his head.

“We must look into it more before we break the most ancient rule,” he finally said, and Zelda’s frown deepened.

“We won’t have time. I have a feeling that something is going to happen. Don’t you feel it too? The air isn’t right today.”

Rhoam closed his eyes and nodded. He was too tired to argue this further. “I fear disaster will strike if we were to go down there. My decision is final, Zelda. Give it more time.”

Zelda’s glare melted away, and instead of her usual upset response to rejection, it was a resigned acceptance.

“Very well, father,” she muttered, turning away to leave the room.

“I’m sorry,” Rhoam quickly called out, wanting to ease the tension slightly, but Zelda only forced another smile. She left the room quickly and Rhoam let out a sigh, allowing himself to finally lay on the bed. The tension in his head cleared slightly as he rubbed his temples and he groaned. He hated it, he hated being king, he hated seeing Zelda look at him the way she did, he hated feeling like every action he took was a mistake, he just hated it all.

Rhoam laid there for a moment, staring at the ceiling blankly. He almost couldn’t wait for Zelda to become queen so he didn’t have to tell her “no” anymore, but he knew he needed to wait. She needed to feel ready for taking on such a tremendous responsibility unlike him when his wife died. But he felt years of his life being stripped away from the stress of it all, and he didn’t know how much longer he could take it.

A beeping sound broke him from his thoughts, and he sat up, looking for where the sound came from. He heard it again and he looked down at himself, spotting his Sheikah slate that was glowing. Since the three years, Purah and Robbie wasted no time in developing more of the slates for those of importance. They only made a few; one for Zelda, Impa, the champions, the first knight, and of course, himself. They were developing more slates for the leaders of the different towns and villages, that way they could have quick contact in case disaster struck, but production was paused to find a cure for gloom. Rhoam admittedly used to find the bits of technology that weren’t the guardians or divine beasts rather childish, but since the calamity, he grew to have a greater appreciation of all of it. Quick communication (though it was rather finicky depending on where they were) was remarkably convenient, and teleporting to the different towers across Hyrule saved days of time. The things technology was capable of doing were incredible.

He only wished it wasn’t so confusing.

Rhoam frowned at the screen as he tapped several buttons, opening the map at least twelve times before finally getting to what beeped at him in the first place. To his surprise and dread, it was a message from Impa. Her message read:

I found something at the Great Plateau. Come quickly.

He reread the short message, rubbing his head tiredly. It was a concerning message to receive from Impa. Why did she need him of all people? What did she find that required the king’s attention? He was also frustrated at how vague it was—Impa normally gave very detailed explanations in her messages, so what did she find that caused her to be so vague? He hopped off his bed, not wanting to waste anymore time. Rhoam trusted Impa, and he knew that she needed him if she requested him personally.

He left his room, giving his guards a nod and pulling out his Sheikah slate. It took a long moment until Rhoam figured out how to teleport both him and his guards to the Great Plateau, but soon they disappeared in a blue light. The feeling of his body dissipating then materializing in a new area made him far more nauseous than before, and he stumbled slightly on the tower. Orman rested his hand on his shoulder to steady him, which helped.

“I’m alright,” he muttered after his vision cleared, and he straightened his back despite the slight vertigo. He faced the Great Plateau, a place he grew all too familiar with during the calamity. Glancing down at his Sheikah slate, Rhoam opened Impa’s message again, using his pointer finger to type his own message to her.

Where are you?

His bodyguards watched amused as he fumbled with the thing, finally sending the message before letting out a sigh. The air was calm here, but he did feel the unease in the world that Zelda had mentioned. Nausea built up in him again, and he decided to sit down on the tower while he waited for Impa to respond. His guards stared for a moment, standing in front of him with their weapons in their hands as if an attack were to happen at any moment. Eventually, Orman stepped closer to the king, his spear put away.

“Are you alright, my King?” He asked, and Rhoam only waved his concern away. He was always so compassionate.

“I’m alright… I’m just tired.”

“Is it the gloom?”

Rhoam didn’t respond, but he didn’t need to. The gloom was worrying everyone after all. But still, he didn’t want to seem… vulnerable to his own guards. He was always a hardened soldier, being the first knight of Hyrule before becoming the prince consort. Yet here he was, on the verge of a breakdown.

Orman didn’t press further to Rhoam’s relief, and his Sheikah slate finally beeped in his hands. The king scrambled to open the message, excitedly reading what Impa said.

At the cabin by Owa Daim Shrine.

He let out a sigh and stood up, facing the direction to the shrine. If he recalled correctly, the shrine was on a cliff side, which then led to the cabin across the cliff. He supposed it’d be quicker to teleport there, but…

No, figuring out how to teleport would take too long, as would trying to get down from the cliffside safely. Rhoam had a paraglider on him at all times, but his guards didn’t. It would be better to walk.

“Let’s go,” he said, walking to the opening in the ground on the tower. It took a long moment to get down since they had to climb to different platforms surrounding the tower, and Rhoam made a note to have his guards carry around paragliders to make traveling easier (though Rhoam rarely traveled out of the castle). He finally landed on the ground, stretching out his sore arms with Ammon close behind. Orman took the longest, losing his patience when he finally reached the platform and opting to jump off instead of climbing. Rhoam felt his heart stop when he landed from such a height, but the tall man was perfectly fine, simply brushing himself off. He let out a relieved sigh and faced south, marching towards the cabin with his guards behind him.

The Great Plateau was a place Rhoam and his guards grew familiar with since it was where they escaped to during the calamity. Many soldiers were wounded and left behind in battles throughout the kingdom, and Rhoam, having just escaped the castle, made an effort to gather them to the Temple of Time where they could get help. The healers in the sacred place helped his soldiers, meanwhile the king traveled around the plateau, killing all monsters and guardians that threatened his men. He remembered the days staring at the castle that was overflowing with malice, with red glowing lights of guardians surrounding what was once his home, praying to Hylia that Zelda was somewhere safe. The memories from the plateau weren’t entirely pleasant since Rhoam was filled with anxiety over his kingdom and daughter, but he couldn’t help but feel strangely nostalgic as he passed by Eastern Abbey. During the hardest moment of his life, it was the first time his world was quiet, and he was alone. Sometimes he missed the quiet nights he spent in the Forest of Spirits, or the peaceful mornings on Mount Hylia, but he supposed it was the price for being King.

He only hoped Zelda would at least get those quiet moments when she became queen.

Almost on instinct, he sent a prayer to Hylia, something he did so often during the calamity. He prayed that Zelda would not have to suffer the same way he did, that she would be safe, and that she would be a powerful queen to her people. The prayer was quick, but it filled him with some peace. The goddesses did well watching over her after all.

It didn’t take long for the group to reach the cabin, and Rhoam quickly refocused his attention on the task at hand. It was silent save for the rustle of leaves on the trees, and the cabin seemed strangely empty. He walked up to the door and let out a sigh, knocking on it three times.

“Impa,” he called out, opening the door, “it’s King Rhoam, I—”

Rhoam stopped when he peeked inside the room. It was messy in the cabin, with some papers scattered about and random decorations on the table and dressers. But at the end of the table, he found a large man clad in red, with a mask covering his face.

“Kohga?” Rhoam blurted out, stepping into the room fully. Ammon quickly squeezed past Rhoam, putting himself in front of the king protectively.

“That’s Master Kohga to you, thank you very much,” the Yiga clan leader corrected, leaning against the chair casually. “About time you’d get here, you sure kept me waiting.”

Rhoam stared for a moment, blinking at him in disbelief. “You—did you send the message?”

Kohga took out a Sheikah slate, waving it around. “Yes.”

Fury bubbled within Rhoam. Of course. Goddesses of course this would happen to him. Amongst the catastrophe that is the gloom, of course something would happen that would waste his time.

“I don’t believe this,” he muttered, spinning around and leaving the cabin abruptly.

“W-wait! Your Highness–” Kohga suddenly appeared right in front of Rhoam, smoke and talismans fluttering in the king’s face. “You came all this way and now you’re gonna leave—”

“I don’t have time for your pranks, Kohga,” Rhoam snapped, “I’m going back to the castle.”

“Hold on!” Kogha put his hands on Rhoam’s shoulders to stop him from walking, but a smack from Orman’s spear made them draw back. Ammon once again put himself between the two despite being half their size, and Kohga finally backed away with an annoyed huff.

“What do you want, Kohga?” Rhoam finally asked, fury apparent in his voice. “How did you get Impa’s Sheikah slate? Did you steal it from her?”

“No no no!” Kohga denied. “I would never steal from Impa! Maybe if it was Link or someone else, yes I would, but I would never steal from Impa—”

“Then why do you have her Sheikah slate? Where is she?”

“She’s fine. She’s with her sister right now, calm down. I just needed her slate so I could message you,” Kogha poked Rhoam in the chest harshly, and the king’s glare deepened. “Y’see, I found something on this plateau that requires the king’s attention. Obviously.”

“Why didn’t you just request an audience with me?” Rhoam asked, watching as Kohga began pacing in front of him.

“Oh come on, that would’ve taken weeks! You’re a popular guy, you know that? And besides, why would anyone let me, the master of the Yiga, into the castle? Think about it,” Kohga glanced down at Ammon. “Short-stack right here would’ve gutted me alive.”

Rhoam sighed and put his hand on Ammon’s shoulder to calm him, and he stepped closer to Kohga. “Alright. What is so important that you took a classified piece of technology from my daughter’s advisor to contact me?”

Kohga was suddenly at his side, his arm wrapped tightly around his shoulder. “Well I’m glad you asked, ‘ol Rhoam-y boy.”

Rhoam pulled away and glared at him. “Don’t call me that. And stop touching me.”

Kohga ignored him and pointed back to the north. “The Forest of Spirits! That’s where I need to show you!”

Rhoam groaned, rubbing his aching head. “ And why didn’t you just ask me to meet you there?”

“Because I need to exercise my legs. Now come on, Rhoam-y boy!”

Rhoam only watched as Kohga ran ahead, who was already losing his breath.

“Are you seriously going to humor this guy?” Orman asked as he walked up next to Rhoam. The king only sighed. He knew better than to trust the Yiga; they helped save the kingdom, which couldn’t be ignored, but it didn’t erase the things they did in the past. Admittedly, he didn’t know if he could trust Kohga, but his daughter trusted him… so…

“Maybe he does have something important to show me,” Rhoam simply answered, not wanting to argue further, and he began to walk to Kohga who was panting for air. He heard his guards’ footsteps behind him, but they sounded reluctant as they crunched the dead leaves beneath them.

Rhoam made sure to keep his distance from Kohga as they walked, which wasn’t very easy seeing how the man could barely run. Though Rhoam couldn’t judge him too much, since he found himself out of breath as they walked up a few slopes.

It felt like hours until the group finally reached the Forest of Spirits, time feeling like it was being thrown away the longer they took. The more he walked, the more anxious he felt, and he couldn’t help but eye the trees around him. Kohga was rambling ahead of them, talking about walking trees, cave monsters, and Talus’s with bokoblins making camp on them. Absurd things no doubt, and Rhoam couldn’t tell if it had anything to do with what he was going to show him, but he chose to ignore him anyways. After a few minutes of walking through the woods, Rhoam finally stopped, his patience growing thin.

“Kohga, where in these woods are we headed to?”

Kohga stopped and turned around, his hand on his chest as if he were offended. “Patience Rhoam-y boy, goddesses.”

“I told you to stop calling me that—”

“A-HA!” Over there!” Kohga suddenly shouted, sprinting to the north of the plateau. Rhoam only glanced back at his guards, who gave him uncomfortable looks. The group jogged to keep up with Kohga, who went back to rambling.

“You see, I was walking around these woods… where I found a strange structure built by nature,” he panted in between breaths, turning his head back occasionally. “It’s not actually in the woods, but it’s closeby. A strange structure that may mean something important!”

It was clear that Kohga was amping up the dramatics, but Rhoam couldn’t tell if it was because the Yiga leader was just a dramatic person, or if he was being genuine. He just prayed that this wasn’t a waste of time. Kohga suddenly sprinted ahead and ran out of the trees, continuing to ramble as Rhoam pumped his legs to keep up.

“Personally I think it’s truly a piece of art, but I had to see what the king would say if he were to see it—”

Kohga abruptly stopped, and Rhoam rammed right into his back. He peeled himself away from the man, huffing as he straightened his beard. Kohga only shuffled his feet as if nothing happened, growing noticeably uncomfortable.

“Uh-oh.”

Rhoam frowned at the strange behavior Kohga was now exhibiting, and he moved to his side.

“What are you—” Rhoam began to ask, but he turned his head to see what Kohga was staring at, and dread sank into his stomach.

Gloom. Gloom that covered the cobblestones and grass in large puddles, gloom that covered the shrine, turning the ethereal blue light into a sick red, gloom that was a mist coming out of the ground around the shrine.

No.

It was spreading.

The silence was heavy as Rhoam stepped ahead, staring at the puddles of gloom that was scattered across the ground. He felt his throat close up as he got closer to one, nausea assaulting his stomach. Goddesses, it was spreading. It was no longer in Castle town, it was on the Great Plateau.

Where else had it spread? How far would it go?

“Well, this is not what I wanted to show you,” Kohga suddenly spoke up, staring at the ground around him. “This uh… wasn’t here an hour ago.”

Rhoam turned to stare at Kohga, his brows pinched together. It was spreading fast, it seemed. Goddesses…. What could he do? There wasn’t a cure from gloom poisoning, there wasn’t a way to remove the gloom, he felt… helpless.

Except…

Beneath the Castle…

Of course—of course, how could he be so foolish?

Zelda was right. It seemed the only way to deal with the gloom was to explore where it was forbidden. They needed to get down there, to find answers…. Maybe there was a way to remove the horrid gloom. Maybe there was a way to save the kingdom once again. The king found himself by the shrine, the panel flickering as gloom covered most of it. He still felt a strong sense of dread, but he had to push it away, they needed to act now.

“King Rhoam?” Orman called out. He was across the pond where Rhoam stood, with Ammon and Kohga further back. Rhoam took a deep breath and nodded at his guard, pushing the ill feelings back to make way for the motivation.

“We’re going back to the castle, and we’re going to explore deep into its depths,” he explained simply. “Zelda is right, the answer to this gloom may be down there. We cannot dawdle any longer.” He turned back to the shrine, staring at the gloom infecting it. “This gloom will spread further throughout the kingdom. We must stop it before it gets to that point.”

“Well it’s a good thing I did call for you then, huh?” Kohga called out, but Rhoam glared at him. He truthfully didn’t want to admit that whatever Kohga had planned was actually useful, and he simply turned to look at his guards.

“Let’s head back to the castle so we can—”

A sudden heave of the earth cut him off, and he fell back onto the panel of the shrine. His vision went white for a moment as his head smacked the panel, and his hand planted itself onto a gloom puddle. The strange sensation of the gloom beginning to worm its way into him caused him to flinch back, and he sat up away from the horrid substance. His head was aching worse than before, his hands felt numb, but from what he felt he wasn’t actually poisoned with gloom to his relief. When he glanced to see if the others were alright, he saw that Kohga was still standing, though looking confused, while his guards were on the ground. Rhoam attempted to scramble to his feet, but the earth heaved again, this time shaking violently. Dust flew into his eyes, immediately blinding him, and he covered his face with his sleeve. The earth roared around him, the sound of shaking trees, rocks, and the shrine flooding his ears, so much so he could barely hear his guards shouting for him. The king grabbed onto the shrine behind him, pulling himself up, but his hand once again touched the gloom covering the shrine. Dread clenched his heart, and he pulled away, only to fall back to the ground. He looked up again to see his guards sprawled out on the ground, Kohga missing, and rocks falling out of the sky.

“Oh goddesses,” he prayed, watching in horror as he spotted figures of islands in the clouds appearing as rocks fell from them, being trailed by a mysterious green light. Many of the rocks fell around them, which made the shaking worse for them. They were unsafe here and they needed to get away. Somehow.

“A-Ammon! Orman!” He called out, scrambling to his feet so he could meet with his guards. “We need to get out of h—”

Before he could finish, a loud crack from the ground interrupted him, and the ground suddenly gave way. Rhoam could only gasp as he fell backwards, plunging into darkness, with the light of the world growing smaller and smaller.

[myuni-moon]

Can i get hua cheng x fem reader fluff?

#time is but a number

scenario with hua cheng, in which he tells you he loves you in his own weird way

warnings: hua cheng has dark humor, suicide mentions, is this even fluff???

The first time he said it, you thought he was joking. Hua Cheng had always been enigmatic, stranger in ways you could never quite put your finger on. In one instance, he could be completely fine - dare you say even close to sounding human. Other times, you're reminded that he was never human to begin with despite all the times he'd felt like one. Such as finding some sort of humor in the morbid and macabre, some of it not even your stomach could handle (and you've spent time in ghost city).

You had been discussing a recent rumor floating around the mortal realm, the unfortunate death of two youths - a double suicide as you recalled. It was melancholic and quite saddening, but it proved to be quite the discussion between you two over tea.

"I suppose there is something beautiful about it," you hummed, watching your reflection in the murkiness of your drink. "Choosing to die with someone, I guess." They'd never be lonely in the afterlife, you reckon. In some way, the two would always be bound in soul.

Hua Cheng only smirked, typical of him. His face betrayed no real emotion, just the simple facade he wore on a daily. You'd know that it was simply out of habit, something he came to develop in his years as a calamity. "Could you ever imagine yourself that way? Dying with someone to stay with them forever?"

"And why would I?"

"I would," he looked at you amusingly. You raised a brow in honest suspicion. Hua Cheng chuckled, "I love you."

There was a silence, more from you than him. Your mind had blanked, only because you'd never expect him to say such a thing in the middle of one of the most disturbing conversations you've had up to date. There's a twist in your gut - whether from the confession or the awkward circumstances it was said in, you're too stunned to figure out. The short pause eventually gave way to Hua Cheng's laughter.

"No need to get so caught up in it," he waved his hand in disregard, "you don't have to think too much about it."

You glared at him as heated air puffed through your nose. Of course, only Hua Cheng could make something so serious with a joke. You lightly tapped at his nose with annoyance. A mischievous glint twinkled in his eyes at the contact of your fingers with his skin. "Don't go joking about that, A-Cheng."

As he leaned into your touch, he chuckled again; who ever said he was joking?

[yandere-heaven-nyxie]

The Gem That Was Mistaken As A Mere Stone

Short Sagau Series Part 2

Characters: Nahida, Nilou, Wanderer

____________________________

The Dendro Archon, Lesser Lord Kusanali who was against the idea of hunting down the 'Imposter'. She thinks it's unnecessary and as far as she analysed, the copy hasn't done anything to offend anyone in the slightest

It confuses her on why do they want to kill someone who just looks the same as the Creator, hell they didn't even claim to be the Creator either. This entire thing didn't sit right with her, even if the traveler already did freed her from the Akademiya. She felt pity because she can somehow almsot relate to the person being hunted down.

The Aranara surrounds you, holding multiple flower crown for you. Your smile is the most beautiful thing that mankind has longed to see, Nilou admires you as other Aranara decorated her hair too. Her eyes softens to the cute creatures that surrounds you, 'They all act like they're Her Majesty's children..' Nilou couldn't stop herself from giggling.

_____________________________

Nahida entered someone's dream but it was more like someone's consciousness. She looked around, hearing a soft sob. Walking near to the sound, she found herself standing in front of a winged androgynous soul. They were so ethereal, even their cries sounded like a melody. The garden that surrounds them act like a shield between the two, while she was only standing on a white plane, the ethereal being was sitting down on green grasses and bushes of flowers surrounds them.

"Hello? Are you alright?" Nahida voiced her concern, how could such beautiful being be this sad. The ethereal figure turn their head but their eyes gradually soften.

"Hello little one, how have you come here?" your voice was still sore but it's still gentle. Nahida was at first confused to the 'little one' title but brushes it off as it doesn't mind her. She was curious at what you are, you seems to act like you already knew her for a long time. The bushes moves so that she can enter your consciousness fully, 'I see this is a safe haven for them'

"Tell me, little Nahida. What have you come to seek me for?" her eyes widens at the fact that you already knew her name when she didn't even know yours yet. "How did you know my name?" she questions, she's not scared just piqued. She sees how plane brightens, "Hmm, let's see. Your record in Irminsul is a tad bit blurred but I can still see who you are, little one."

For someone who is able to see into Irminsul itself is enough to make her connect the dots on who you are. "My Creator!" her eyes lit up. You nod but corrected her "Descendant of Your Creator." Thus, you told her about the story of the beginning.

_______________________

Eons ago, a god who was born from nothingness. They who created the world before Teyvat. This world was filled with all their creations, Unique and Beautiful. They love their creations equal to one another,

"For I have created this world to admire my creations, I shall love and cherish every one of my beings"

Teyvat is the gift for their creations to thrive in, The Creator gave Teyvat it's own sentient mind. As it's order for the land,

"I shall order you, to protect my people. My wondrous creations that includes you my dearest Teyvat.

I bestow you with this gift, until the day my creations turns against me. May you protect my vessels from such calamity."

They foresaw of what will happen to them, another being that wasn't their own came and took everything away. Killing the All-Creator who was vulnerable to protect their people from getting corrupted, in a last attempt to still guide their creations.

They made a being that resembles them, calling them The All-Creator's Descendant. Giving all their memories and parts of their divine form into the newly made body. The body was at first was a human but once they step foot onto the land they had created, the heavenly form of the Creator shall slowly awaken.

Descendant can be in any universe, the memories that lies dormant and locked in their mind shall one day be unsealed. As their soul blend together once again with The All-Creator's divine being.

___________________________

To learn the truth of the All-Creator, Nahida came to conclusion that the Descendant are partly a vessel. She soon realised that when the Imposter Hunt Decree was established, the Creator was hunted down. Just because the one on the throne had ordered them to.

Nahida looks sadly at you, her eyes were filled with tears. "Oh little one, I'm sorry that story was too much for you." You pulled her to your chest, comforting her like a small child. "No... no that wasn't it.. I'm crying because.. the people have hurted you so much and they are too blind.. to see that you're already in front of them." she sniffles in between her words, shushing her softly and gently.

"It's alright now my dearest, I do not resent any of them. Though only one, the one who falsely wearing my face to gain their own greed." your voice was still gentle even when in anger. "My Creator what shall I do to find you?" she questions you with her green eyes. "Go with the Aranara, they shall guide you to me."

The Balladeer isn't someone who will ever believe in a god, when his own had abandoned him in this cruel world a long time ago. He loath the tears that will leaves his eyes, hates the way how 'human' he is. He couldn't comprehend on how he had such empathy, he deemed it as worthless for he is a puppet for a god or a gnosis to rely in. why can't he have such a thing...

"My precious creation, why must you be sad.." a gentle warm hands wiped his tears away, his eyes widens.

In this plane of pale blue consciousness, he knew it was his. He gazed to the figure that holds him, 'Creation? Am I.. Sad?' his inner self questions. It was so conflicting that his eyes were in frenzy, he didn't even realize himselves that there were tears once again falling down his eyes but this time it was like a waterfall.

It was all too much, he couldn't take it anymore. His unknown heart breaking into pieces for the 4th time, this time there wasn't a betrayal. Just Kunikuzushi trying to reach out to the Balladeer, to not shut him out again.

His hics and sniffles was so raw that he felt weak like a newborn baby. the hands gently let him sit, a soft hum to calm his ever racing mind. Until he's finally aware of the being in front of him, he was cradled in their lap. "Little one, have you found yourselves yet?" he was a bit frantic at the presence. Quickly standing up and away from them.. "Who... Who are you?" he wanted to yell but he couldn't due to the soreness of his throat from crying.

"I am your creator, my dear." You looked at him, sad at what had happened to him. "Don't play with me! My creator, my own mother had already abandoned me long time ago!"

"Even if you're my creator, why did You abandoned me!?" He screamed. His eyes were filled with loathing and anger, a hint of sadness and betrayal along with it.. "I never abandoned you Kunikuzushi, do you remember the seelie that accompanied you. When you were abandoned by Beelzebul, until now when you are sleeping."

Yes he does remember, how could he not.. The seelie that always left stars whemever it flies beside him, whenever it fret over the fact that if he had fainted or just sleeping, the seelie that share it's warmth with him when he got betrayed and the moments where it always seems to care for him more than any other he had met. Was it you, all along?

You smile softly at him "I never once abandoned you, even if the one on the throne that everybody worships didn't even glance at you the slightest. I can never abandon you.. For you are my beloved creation."

All this time he had thought that he was alone, with only the star seelie that never once left his side. He thought.. He was never enough to be recognised, wanting to earn favour and burn the anyone who dares to defy him. Even when the skies were fake, he never thought that it was you. He looks down, "Why did the betrayals always happened to me..?"

"You simply don't know what is mortality all about, how fragile they are even so some glasses can be harder to break at some point.

Beslzebul left you because you reminded her of her sister Makoto, 'Baal' the one who she had lost a long time ago. She was a gentle ruler, she couldn't fight unlike Ei. Yet, she is the brain of the twin while Ei was the brawn. They complete each other. Their eternity was different, Makoto leans toward the humans more understanding the concept of mortality.

Even when she didn't realise it, she couldn't lie to her feelings. She saw Makoto in you, little one."

His tears are now overflowing, he hugs you tightly unexpectedly. Crying into your chest with a broken sob, you comfort him with letting him cry in his own plane of consciousness. Humming softly in order to remind him that he's not alone to bear the suffering.

"One day, you shall be granted to have your own name, one where you shall call it your own and cherish it." The warmth that filled his unknown heart comforted him so much, for how long he longed to feel this way again. Cared for and treasured, he's grateful to finally call you His God.

He awoken with a gentle nudge from the seelie, somehow he felt a beating in his chest. The seelie guided his hand to feel the soft thump in his chest, it was a heart. His Heart...

How kind were you to grant him with such gift..

-To Be Continued-

Additional Tags: @trasshy-artist @salvationprodigy @eimuros @bittersweetorpheus @shizunxie @iruiji @mulandi @akemisamui @angelkazusstuff @caffeine-mess @valeriele3

Love you all!! sorry if I can't tagged some of you</3

[alien-magnolia]

His Little Grace

Prince Sidon x Hylian hyperfem! reader

Fic description: As Ganon’s minions infiltrate the Zora Domain, you, a weary, small, gentle traveler, are caught in a rut, on the brink of death, not being able to face creatures corrupted by the calamity on your own. The kind prince of Zora, Sidon, accompanies you, protecting you from the monsters. The two of you eventually are drawn into something more…

Tw: 18+ MINORS DNI, shark anatomy, omegaverse biology, breeding kink, sub-coded/super bottom hyperfeminine reader, SIZE kink, kind of non-canon breath of the wild, protective sidon, damsel in distress trope, rough sex, shark love bites, some sidon x link as well, pls reblog and help a writer out!!

Omegaverse rules:

https://www.wattpad.com/amp/706590591

It was a rainy morning in the Zora Domain, 7 o’clock to be exact. The rain battered alongside the icy pathways, the waves crashed below. The King, Dorephan, sat on his throne, concerned due to the noises heard outside the domain. The King has summoned some of his attendants and soldiers, including Link, the Hylian Champion. The King voiced his concerns to the group, saying that the noises sound like an attack on the kingdom; possibly Vah Ruta and guardians back under Ganon’s control. Link volunteers to go inspect the area outside the domain, in Upland Zorana. Sidon burst through the archway.

Father! What horrible news! I have heard that Ganon is possibly attacking the kingdom again! It is preposterous! Let me know what I can do to protect the kingdom!,” the shark smiles, winking and flexing his bicep, his signature look. “My son. Perhaps you can swim down the river, and see what is in the Lananryu Wetlands, closer to Central Hyrule, near the entrance to our domain,” the King suggests. “Of course,” Sidon agrees, and bids a goodbye to Link, whom he did have relations with. Sidon would never admit due to his pride, that he had a soft spot for Hylians. They were so tiny, so soft. The opposite of him. Link was his best friend, and sometimes lover. Link was a beta, however. Sidon, as an alpha, really yearned for a Hylian that was an omega. He wanted to feel one, experience being with one. As biology said, alphas and omegas were made for each other, regardless of race in Hyrule. Same or interspecies, it did not matter. Yet, Sidon failed to find a female, omega, counterpart to his sweet Link’s beauty.

He waved to Link, telling him to be safe, before watching him use Revali’s Gale to fly up into Upland Zorana. Sidon swam down the river, watching as electric Lizalfos, electric chu-chus, and golden bokoblins prowled around the plains, at the side of the river. “So many monsters…,” he thought to himself, swimming faster, hoping not to run into them. He swam to the bridge at the outskirts of Tabahl Woods. He saw a crowd of Black moblins, shrieking, with Dragonbone weapons, attacking something on the ground. He looked a little closely, barely visible to the monsters. He saw that they were attacking a Hylian. A very small one at that. He growled, jumping onto the bridge, facing the moblins, and took a few of them out swiftly, using his muscles and sharp teeth.

After throwing the last moblin down into the waterfall, Sidon comes closer to inspect the Hylain, to see if they were okay. A sickeningly sweet smell has hit him. He crouched down, taking a closer look. A very small Hylian woman, laying on the bridge, gravely wounded. Her blood, her body, smelled so good to him… could it be? An omega?

He stops his dirty mind from trampling him, and gently picks up the Hylian. Placing her in his arms, he swims up the river as fast as he could, eager to get her into the domain, so she could be properly healed and taken care of.

He reaches the domain, swimming up the waterfall, careful not to drown the woman. “Somebody! Please help! I have found an injured Hylian!!,” he shouts, and at instant, a few other Zora take her away to heal with herbs, in the lower chambers of the kingdom. Sidon meets back with Link, glad that he is okay, giving him a few kisses as well.

“My Link. I think I have found an omega. What should I do?! I am a bit worried!!,” Sidon shouts at him, the little man looking at the shark with a smirk.

“See if the chemistry is right, when she wakes up. If it is, perhaps then you could mate with her, for real, unlike you and I,” Link sheepishly tells him.

“Yes! Link! You are amazing! A genius! An absolute marvel!!,” Sidon shouts at him, giving Link his signature smirk and wink, and hugging him before running off to check on the Hylian he just rescued.

“My dear. Are you okay?,” he leans over the woman, his large shadow covering her small one. She moans in pain, looking up at him. “I think I’m okay now, yes. Who are you?,” her voice was small and shy, quiet. She meekly looked at him with her beautiful green eyes. Sidon blushed, loving how soft her voice was.

“Quickly, young one. Tell me your name.” The woman tells him. “Lily.” “Ah. What a beautiful name that is. I am Sidon, Prince of the Zora. I was making my round down the Zora River, when I saw you being beaten by monsters on Inogo Bridge!!,” he exclaimed, clearly worried for the young woman.

“I should have been more careful,” the woman replied, slightly blushing.

——-

You had been beaten by Moblins, and were about to meet your end, when you feltl a strong presence lift you up, carrying you up the Zora River, up a waterfall. You did not know who that was, yet you were extremely grateful. You awoke to a beautiful Zorana leaning over you. His smile, his voice, his muscles. You loved it.

Best of all, it seemed like he was an alpha. You could tell right away. This is who you had been searching for.

You had been born in a Hylian village off the coast, Luteno Village, full of Betas. The only other Alpha in the village was already mated — to a Beta. They did not have heats, ruts, pheromones. Sometimes, you wished to be one of them. Oh how easier it would be. Omegas were weaker than most, softer. This did not do you any good, especially in the calamity — so many monsters around. What options did you have?

Therefore, you left your small, coastal fishing village in hopes of finding a mate, a lover. You traveled up the Zora River, into Shatterback Point, up mountains, in the rain, in a thunderstorm. The time could have finally come. You were positive that whoever saved you, this ‘Prince Sidon’, was an Alpha. Further, he was royalty.

The size difference between you two was massive. You nervously watched as his clawed hand rested near your body. His palm was the size of your entire arm.

“My dear. Are you alright? You look positively out of it,” the handsome prince spoke to you. You replied that you were, which then coincided with him asking what you were doing in the area.

“Well, you see, Prince Sidon, I came here to find a mate. In Luteno Village, most of the people are Betas — normal. I’m a little helpless on my own, you see, with the calamity and all. I’m not strong enough to fight these monsters. I don’t even think that Omegas and Alphas are common in all of the kingdom of Hyrule…,” you trail off, a bit sad.

The shark grinned back at you, with a knowing yet gentle smile. “My dear. You see, they aren’t that common in the land of Zora either. Alpha and Omega pairs used to be more common before the calamity. All of our Zorai, they are mated pairs, since we usually have very long life spans. Except for me, of course.”

You nod, starting to realize what he was implying. You were sure that he was able to sense the tension between you. You had read, in an old book your grandmother owned, written before the calamity, that just each other’s presence can indicate true love between an Alpha and Omega. You hoped that your late grandmother’s book was right.

“Lily. I want to ask you something, sweet pearl,” Sidon starts. Perhaps, once you feel better, I can show you around the village?,” his yellow eyes look hopeful, bashful, even. A prince, paying attention to you. You were over the moon, and so, you obliged.

—-

Just in a few days, the Zora had healed you. You spent more and more time with the Prince every day, whom you now called Sidon. After a week, Sidon had asked you to accompany him for a nightly swim. The two of you had started doing that ever since you had healed.

You loved how fast he was in the water, how gentle he was with you on his back. Most of all, you loved how big he was. <3

Sidon took you into the lake next to the domain, and up the Veiled Falls. The two of you sat on the luminous stone filled dock, tension between the two of you rising. Sidon tapped his sharp nails upon the dock, nervous on what to say.

“What is it?,” you asked, putting a concerned hand on his shoulder, which made him flinch. “My Pearl. Lily. I have gotten to know you over the past week or so. You are truly amazing! I have never met a Hylian such as yourself before! This is a personal question to ask..yet.. are you possibly looking for something more than safety , here in the Zora Domain?”

You wince, deciding to tell him the truth. “I came here to look for a mate, Sidon. I’m an omega. They aren’t very common after the calamity,” you look down as you say it. Perhaps he has an arranged marriage already.

“My Lily. I am so glad to hear you say that!” He looked enthusiastic suddenly. “You see, I am one of the only other Alphas in this town myself! Everyone else is male or female, just a Beta. You are right, sweet Pearl! How clever you are,” he praises you.

You blush as he compliments you. He moves a bit closer to you. His clawed hand gently holds your head. “You and I, my pearl. I think you’re the most adorable little Hylian I’ve ever seen. The fact that you’re an omega — that is just even more precious and intriguing to me. Be my mate, sweet pearl,” he gently asks of you, yellow eyes full of passion.

You agree, giggling as he brings you in for a kiss. He was gentle with you, although you could feel his sharp teeth grazing your lips. You kiss him back with passion, you feel your lip start to bleed because of his sharp teeth. The two of you are inextricably close now, and his two hands easily grip your hips, almost as long as your whole torso. He gently moves you closer to him, although you can feel his sharp claws pierce your soft tummy.

His smell, his lips, his eyes, all of it was intoxicating. In your grandmother’s book, you have read that those with ‘sexual variance’ (gender classified as omega or alpha — instead of male or female (what Betas had) have greater chances for passionate and intricate sexual and romantic relations. It was biology, after all.

You press your smaller body closer to him, your softness against his rougher skin. You traced your small hands over his torso, his wide shoulders <3 as you could feel him moan into your mouth. He pulls away for a second, manhandling you onto his lap, where you felt a rather big bulge forming already..<3

“You know, sweet one…I have always hoped to find someone with sexual variance… a little omega I could have all for myself, to love, to breed…,” his voice seemed much lower now, you swore you could hear a growl behind it. “Make me yours then,” you softly reply back, gazing into his yellow eyes.

He smirks, and then uses those strong muscles of his to pin you onto the ground. A trail of wet kisses is left all over your face, your neck, your breasts, which he cups so gently, mindful of his claws, your hips. He asks if he can take off your clothes. You nod, and he does so, careful not to rip them with his claws.

“My little grace smells so good for me,” he chuckles darkly. “That’s all you wanted, hmm? A strong alpha to come breed you, claim you…,” he whispers, his sharp teeth grazing your lips. You nod. “Please, Sidon. Want it, please…,” you beg him, doe eyes meeting his.

“You know, my little love…Zora actually have two cocks. I wonder how they’ll fit inside my Pearl…,” he chuckles, bringing you in for another kiss. There you were, caged in his arms, your small hands around his large, bulging biceps, and you can feel him start to grind into you for a bit, before his cocks spring up, all hard, veiny. You almost drool, yet you stop yourself.

You have read in your grandmother’s book that alphas have bigger cocks than betas, than omegas. They have superior strength too…

You stare in awe as the Zora runs his clawed hand over his cocks, over his ball sack, all full and ready to burst!! “Sidon. Please, want it in me,” you beg of him, pathetically reaching up to him like a little girl would to her father.

“I’ll give you anything you ask for, little Pearl. So sweet…,” he moans, and with that, you see him gently line up his two cocks to your already soaking, wet, pussy. You wonder how his sharp teeth would feel on it … <3

“Sidon. I’ve never.. never had this before…,” you tell him shyly. He reassures you with a few kisses. “I will be gentle, little love. You will get used to it, you will want more. Don’t know how long I have been waiting for an omega, all to myself,” his grin showcased his row of sharp teeth, scaring and making you want him more at the same time.

You were ready. He gently began to push his pulsating cocks into you. The stretch hurt, yet since you were wet, you were ready for him. You could take it. He pushed in little by little, and the deeper he went, the more delirious you got. His cocks just stuffed you up so perfectly!! <3

Your eyes met his, your soft hands ran alongside his cheeks, his fins on his head. He has you in a mating press, and you could swear you were seeing doubles from how nicely his cocks filled you. Your eyes began to roll back into your head, as you drift away from the world, and solely focused on the moment: him.

“My sweet Pearl. Doing so well, my love. Taking these big cocks so nicely, can’t wait to breed you, my Pearl, have you carry my heir…,” he moaned out, just as delirious as you were. You were his prey, to be caught, bred, owned by him!! “Please, my prince, Sidon, please!!,” you squealed, eager to agree to everything he was saying, due to how earth shatteringly amazing you felt right now.

“Mate me. Claim me. Please, sir,” you beg him, a moment of clarity in your delirium. He smirks in response, giving you a little (sharp) love bite on your shoulder. “My pleasure, my little love.”

He starts rutting into you, faster, your little body shakes and you have to hold onto him as tightly as you could muster, burying yourself in the crook of his neck. You see stars, with his throbbing cocks inside you, you’ve never felt something be so right. You feel them twitch, and with screams from the both of you, you come at the same time.

You feel his hot seed spill into you, filling you.

You fall asleep in his arms after a bit of cuddling, and he gently takes you back to the Domain, to the palace, into his private chambers. You were his now. His mate, his little grace.

Author's note: Enjoy everyone! Let me know if I should make a part two, or maybe a sidlink fic!! Pls reblog and help a writer out!! <3

[wayfayrr]

The Menace read your answer and this is funny as you stayed in Legend of Zelda but don't worry you have other chances to get another character from another world or game.

So gather 'round, sit back, relax and please stay in your seat. Kick your feet up and grab some popcorn. Oh, and of course, lest we not forget, enjoy the show.

Here goes a Reader which probably is the most soft but also strict one. A master with the trident! This is Mipha!Reader

Reader is the Champion of the Zoras and their beloved next ruler.

They have the gift of healing others and themself but also to heal the water.

They are 55 to 65 years old. Zoras age slower then Hylians.

What only very few know is that Reader has a beautiful singing voice and they use it to put Sidon to sleep.

They are a master with the trident.

They are not a ghost but a living version from Age of Calamity.

Reader almost could give Calamity the armour but they both were thrown into a portal.

They are a very fast swimmer compared to Wild when he wears the full Zora Armour set. They can also breath underwater.

They only have a hunch why Sidon reacted so sad as he had to leave.

They are the epitome of elegance.

They love their younger brother to bits and only wants the best for him. That's why they teached him how to swim a waterfall up and how to surf down.

Most of the Chain would be jealous probably as Reader loves Wild and Calamity.

They just see they same boy they fell in love with in both of them. These two fight like cats and dogs for their attention and affection.

Twilight wanted to help Wild but also fell in love.

Hyrule was just relieved to have another healer with them.

Funny enough Sidon, his father and Muzu are Yandere too! The older version of Sidon, obviously. Sidon lost his sibling and Muzu and Dorephan practically their child and now to have Reader stand there in the Zora Domain once again and looking around as so much changed? They don't want them to go like Sidon had to.

Sidon wants to say so many things to them and learn from them. Muzu cried as they stepped into the throne room at first and thought it was their spirit. It was very emotional as they bowed down to their father before being hugged by him and Muzu.

So those three are very overprotective over Reader and forbid them to go with the Chain.

How they met.

Reader's PoV:

I walked around as I finally managed it out of Lake Hylia and was looking for Link. We both fell into this portal but got separated as I landed alone in Lake Hylia. I was around the Zora Domain and got stared at. I was kinda freaked out because of it. It was my home or so I thought. I noticed that Ruta was on a mountain so if the people need protection I have to climb onto it. Maybe I should put Ruta somewhere else. I was on the main plaza and saw a statue of me. I was more than confused as this was me right know. I turned around and saw many Zoras looking at me with their eyes wide. I waved at the children with a smile and they began to laugh before they ran to me.

„Are you your Highness Reader?“

„Yes, I am sorry I really would like to talk to you little ones but I have to talk to my father.“ I apologized to the children who nodded and took my hand to guide me to the throne room.

I giggled and we stopped at the stairs that leaded to the throne room.

„Thank you, I really appreciate your assistance.“ I petted them before climbing the stairs carefully.

Everyone looked at me strangely here. Link was gone, even as he managed to become my appointed knight, however he managed to do that.

I could multiple men talking two of them were definitely Muzu and father but one sounded like the Sidon from the future. If I travelled through time then were was my future version? Did I really die? I only had suspicions but that would explain all the stares and the statue. I didn't notice that I stopped as I heard the voices. So I continued my way up.

„We are busy with a meeting please come back later.“ they only heard my steps as one of the men called me out but I didn't stop.

As I was in eye sight I could hear gasps and someone running at me. As I stopped I was relieved to see Link coming at me.

„Link. I'm so glad to see you. I was worried as we got separated.“ he only nodded but it didn't bother me he will speak to me on his own accord I know it.

I looked over him and saw injuries again which I began to heal immediately. „You never change do you. Always when you injured you come to me and I will heal you, do you understand?“

He blushed slightly but nodded. As I was finished I walked towards my father and future Sidon. Muzu began to cry!

„Muzu is everything alright?! Are you hurt?! Are you in pain?!“ I rushed towards him and fretted a bit. Which was kinda embarrassing as I completely lost my composure.

But he hugged me tightly and I hugged him back. I stroke his head and turned to my father and Sidon.

„Father, Sidon please tell me what happened to me? I've never seen Muzu cry like that before. Did... Did I die during the Calamity?“

„I'm sorry Reader. I couldn't tell you, it already broke me to part from you but then also tell you I never got my sibling seeing me growing up? It was to much.“ said Sidon and I nodded understandably.

„Don't worry Sidon. I understand but I'm sure that I saw you grow up and becoming the Zora you are know. Just not with a body.“ I separated from Muzu and hugged my younger brother. He even lifted me up and pressed me against him.

„It was nice seeing you but I think you know what I will going to say, aren't you?“

„You can't leave! Just stay here a little longer!!“

„But only for a bit. I have something at home and I want to get it... For someone.“ Sidon giggled and turned me around so I could see the men which were talking to father.

But I was left speechless, there were two Links and one of them was wearing the very armour I crafted. Sidon let me down and I stepped towards the two Links.

„You are Link.“ I looked at the Link who I got separated from and he nodded his head. „And you are also Link.“ I looked at the one in the armour and only then I noticed his scars on the side of his face! I immediately began to heal it as I saw some scratch marks on it. The Link began to giggle and just took my hand into his.

He smiled softly and I turned bright red. Then the other Link ripped my hand out of the grip of the other. He pushed me behind him which let me shriek and grip onto his shoulders for footing. Link growled at the other Link. I know he is protective over me but that is not like him.

„Link everything alright?“ I asked from behind him and he nodded before looking at the group of blonde men.

„Reader, you may come from another time. But I'm still your father, so you are forbidden to travel with these heroes of the past.“

„Father! But... But I have to go back! I'm still the Champion of the Zoras and Vah Ruta's pilot! Vah Ruta only listens to me. I have to go back! What is when something happens to Sidon! It will hurt this Sidon as well! My duty as a Zora Royal is to look after my people and our Domain but how can I do that if you don't let me!“

„Reader. You listen what I have to say. You will not go with these men, do you hear me?“

„You can't stop me!“ with that I dashed to the side and jumped into the water. And in mere seconds I was swimming the waterfall up. I already could hear many knights of the Zoras following me and the other Link too!

„I'm sorry father... But as the next ruler I have to decline your order. I will go back to my time... As I don't belong here...“ I ran away to were Vah Ruta was standing. It's hard to get into it as soon as I activate the defense mechanism of the beast. I only have to be faster. Good I always was the fastest Zora in water!

That's how they met and before you think. Mipha would definitely listen to her father if he orders her to stay. I know but I have to remind you. This isn't Mipha, that Mipha died because of the water blight, and Reader knows it. That's why they decline and run away. They know they don't belong in this time. They belong to Calamity's era and they have to go back there. That's why they disobey. Normally they would listen like the good child they are. But they know they don't belong there! Wild definitely will be with Calamity the first Yandere before the other even fell in love with Reader. Calamity almost lost them and Wild did lost them. Even Flora would try to convince Reader to stay! So she isn't alone, so she has at least one of her dead friends back in her life. So these two will be protective even if Reader can defend themself with their trident. They have to protect them! Wild and them are practically engaged and Calamity is their appointed knight! But Calamity now knows what Reader wanted to give and say to him. Well, Reader has now two fiancées theoretically speaking. But after the Chain fall in love one by one as Reader is like a rose. A delicate and beautiful flower but also has thorns to protect themself. Well, they all want to have a Zora armour gifted by them, even if Twilight and Time have one, they want one from Reader as it means that they are engaged and to be married. But it is hard as Reader, even if they care about the whole group, is already in love with Calamity and Wild. So they obviously give them more attention as they are in love and let me tell you, these two will not only be smug about that. Oh no, they basically show it off. Reader can talk about poetry with Warriors but as soon as they see Wild with injuries because his shield "broke" while shield surfing on Death Mountain. They rush towards him and begin to heal him. Or they listen to Sky as he explains how different the Zoras from his era look compared to them but as soon as Calamity comes to them and just wants to hug because of a "nightmare". They hug him close and cradle Calamity but still listening to Sky until Calamity whined then all their attention is on him. If the Chain boys have alone time with Reader there is a 95 % chance that Wild or Calamity or Wild AND Calamity will butt in with something. They do that to each other too. But the Chain knows they can't say anything to Reader as they have a bleeding heart and they would want them to get them mad because of it. They are their precious and darling sea rose after all.

It's been about 10 days since I got this now 😅 I took a bit of an accidental break with how exhausted I've been but back to mipha reader!!! and It's amazing as always <333

Mipha reader is going to have a very interesting dynamic with the chain, because the zora are not going to let reader go if they have any say in it what so ever. only another portal from whoever is creating them is going to have any hope of getting them away. They lost you already so long ago - like hell is that happening again

I think AoC link could feel almost entitled to reader over the others, they're from his world, they made him the zora armour, it's only because of him that the rest even met you. seeing wild in the crafted set could make him a lot more possessive of you too, cause it's an immediate threat to his relationship with you

granted they could work together to keep you to themselves rather than sharing you with the rest of the chain, they're your two fiances and the rest of the chain could be gone for all they care

I think the pressure to have zora armour could damage the others relationship with them though, seeing as they have to use their own scales to make it which can't be pleasant really and if they're in the domain with their father, retainer and brother then no way in hell is that going to be made for even a single other link no matter how hard they push - and hopefully time doesn't bring up ruto

and with wild/cal stealing their attention whenever possible? no matter how much the chain love reader they aren't going to be getting their attention any time soon over the fiances <3

[talesofadragon]

𝐒𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬

Synopsis: Centuries spent at the House of Odin have transformed the eclectic balls into familial gatherings and council meetings into morning tea rituals. The gilded walls of the castle have become home, and its royals, family. Yet, when your wisdom crosses paths with folly, affection is born unexpectedly, senselessly—a trait you’ve never been known to entertain, but one that Thor Odinson wears proudly.

Pairing: Thor Odinson x Asgardian!Reader

Warnings: Allusions to sex. Jealousy. Unrequited Love. Love Triangles. LOKI. (we love him, though.)

Genre: Hurt/Comfort | Fluff | Mild Angst

Word Count: 6K (I have no regrets)

Based on this Request from my writing celebration.

All Masterlists | Sab's Wring Fest

𝐈𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐒𝐍’𝐓 𝐖𝐈𝐒𝐄 𝐓𝐎 𝐒𝐍𝐄𝐀𝐊 into the queen’s revered gardens, let alone assault her precious snowdrops. But rationale had long been buried deeper than Yggdrasil’s roots, allowing impulsivity to reign over you.

The white petals screeched from the force of your tug, a harsh touch you’d never known yourself capable of administering. But your assault proved relentless, flower after flower limply falling to your side. Ironically, their innocent petals congregated on the fabric of your dress, painting a tinge of beauty over your despondency.

Even in their misery, they refused to be anything but enduring. Pitiful.

“Oh, how delightfully entertaining will it be to gauge Mother’s love for you once she sees what calamity has befallen her garden by your hands.”

“Go away,” you commanded bitterly, back turned to the unwanted presence.

The god behind you neglected to comment on your tone. You heard him shuffle, his feet carefully avoiding stepping on another virtuous plant. He plopped down next to you, elegantly brushing his hands atop the neglected flower stems by your side, reviving them.

“It would be a shame to forgo free entertainment,” Loki smirked, twirling the rejuvenated snowdrop in his fingers.

You craned your head to the right, eyes burning with fire even his Jotun genes couldn’t withstand. “Pity, so many courtesans have slipped from your fingers you now have to settle for my misery for pleasure.”

Loki laughed, his shoulders shaking. His gaze retained his familiar mirth as he answered, “Would your misery be associated with a certain courtesan and an Asgardian prince... fonduing, perhaps?”

“Fonduing?” Your face twisted in disgust. “What in the Nine does that word mean?”

“I heard the spangled American Captain utter it once," Loki recalled. "It’s a euphemism for two people partaking in the biological act of reproduction.”

“What?” you scoffed in disbelief. “It doesn’t make sense.”

Loki’s wry smirk reappeared. “Mortals rarely do,” he confessed.

Your face fell at the reminder of the race you were persistently attempting to forget. Focused on your previous discourse, you had ignored the snowdrops delicately sitting in the palm of your hands. Without a second thought, you resumed your previous ministrations, gracelessly tearing apart petals from the stem.

“You do not happen, by any chance, to be superseding this flower for Thor’s meek mortal friend. Do you?” Loki asked.

“No,” you were quick to reply. “She may be as delicate as a flower, but she’s as beautiful as a Ratatoskr. What do brown eyes remind one of besides tree trunks and repugnant mud?”

“The warmth of an autumn day as the sun embraces the woodlands and shelters its inhabitants from the seasonal tumult to come,” Loki poetically recited, hands drawing figures in the air and a gleam of mischief glowing in his irises.

“Sounds tedious,” you lamented.

It earned you a scoff from Loki, though not for a lack of frivolity. “Midgardians possess this abhorrent concoction called coffee,” he informed, gaining your attention. “It’s a muddy brew that staggeringly increases one’s anxiety threshold.”

“Why would someone create such a senseless horror?”

“Perhaps to use it as a metaphor for a mortal’s brown eyes.”

You scrunched up your nose at the image of the mortal in question. “Fitting. She has such a petite stature. As feeble and brittle as her thirty-year lifespan.”

“I regret to inform you that mortals can live up to a century.”

“Irrelevant. That is still a trifle of our lifespan. And do not get me started on her vexatious disposition. Has this mortal woman been raised in a cave of trolls?”

“Well, this would certainly explain her infatuation with Thor.”

“You are not helping!”

You gathered what remained of the flowers, pelting Loki with the stem and petals. He didn’t deflect your assault, accepting your sour behavior. What you hadn’t accounted for was his retaliation. He pushed your shoulder, slightly rougher than usual, forcing you to land on a bed of flowers.

You groaned, feeling the flora entangling in your hair and their pollen dusting your dress. Loki’s dulcet amusement echoed above your head. A sharp gasp escaped him when you tugged at his emerald green robes and shoved him down. Hard.

“I did not inflict a grain of harm on you,” Loki groaned, swatting the fallen petals, which landed in his hair. “This hurts, Y/N.”

“Your pride or your head? The latter could benefit from some sense knocking into it,” you rebuked.

Loki gazed at you unimpressed. “Now is not an agreeable time to spread your wisdom, Little Goddess. You’ve clearly demonstrated your dwindling abilities when you groaned and moaned about the earthling.”

“I did no such thing! I, astutely might I add, pointed out her subpar qualities that do not mirror what Asgard is looking for in a queen—”

“Thor clearly disagrees.”

“Do not interrupt me, you venomous snake! Thor has always been a dunderhead, overthinking with his brawn and underthinking with his brains.”

“And yet, you were stupid enough to fall in love with him, Goddess of Wisdom.”

“Watch your mouth!” you spat, eyes roving the expanse of the garden to ensure no meddling ears were meandering around. “I care for your brother. But do not confuse care with admiration.”

“Devotion, Y/N. Has the human’s visit caused even your accrued lexicon to recede,” Loki taunted. Had it not been for your skirts in the way and your position on the ground, you would’ve kicked him so hard in certain nether regions that he would’ve sung to Valhalla.

“I stand by what I said.”

“Apologies, Little Goddess. Allow me, as the God of Lies, to refute your statement. Both metaphorically and in the literal sense.”

That filthy little python. You scoffed, perhaps a little more at yourself than him. He elicited the responses he desired, painting a mockery out of you and your feelings. You knew you couldn’t debate the matter with him more than you already had. As the God of Lies and your, unfortunately, best friend, he’d always have the upper hand in this matter.

So, you stood up and dusted your skirts. If you weren't winning, then participating in this debate was of no use. 

“Where are you going?” Loki inquired, an underlying tone of merriment hiding beneath his words.

Your eyes squinted, regarding him with indignation. “You have effectively sullied my mood even further. Your mother’s beautiful flowers do not deserve more ill will at my hands. Therefore, I’m taking my leave.”

If Loki had said anything after your response, your mind had elected to ignore it. Huffing aloud, you marched toward the castle, uncaring for the traces of mud and the wealth of fallen petals that trailed behind. On a regular day, you would’ve been more mindful, casting a simple cleaning spell to polish your appearance and ensure the poor attendants of the Odin Household would not have to partake in more work than necessary. But your anger and heartbreak had been immeasurable enough to deny you any act besides sulking over the mortal woman Thor had ignorantly brought along to Asgard.

The Norns, much like Loki, must’ve been taking pleasure in your predicament. You had rounded the corner, one gilded hallway separating you from the castle’s entrance, when the silhouette of the Crown Prince appeared. 

Unlike the ladies of the court, your admiration for Thor did not stem from his ethereal beauty. It bloomed like Freyja’s primroses, a sturdy seedling that, with time, opened its foliage to a world of wonder and ardor. He was a cosmic presence—a child of the sun, with light and fire dancing around his immaculate frame in wisps of enchantment, leaving every woman breathless. Including you.

“Lady Y/N!” Thor’s voice reverberated in the long hallway, laced with excitement. "I hadn't anticipated your presence today. No wonder the day exudes such radiance."

His comment made heat rise to your cheeks. It was almost as if he had shared his warmth with you, sending it trekking along his words to your heart. You smiled at him, demure and saccharine. But your lips downturned once another presence, one less noticeable or agreeable, appeared behind him.

You cleared your throat, attempting to restrain your unease as you greeted, “Thor, Mistress Foster.”

Norns burn you if you call her by the same title you bear. The earthling, as Loki so eloquently worded it, could not match you.

Without a greeting nor a poised lexicon, the Midgardian inquired, “Why are your clothes dirty?” 

Her question intrigued Thor enough for his eyes to rove your body. The warmth that had settled in your veins morphed into the embers of Helheim. You felt small and brittle under the scrutiny of his penetrating gaze.

“I beg your pardon?” you fired back promptly, indignation concealing the shame you felt at your soiled image.

Your words caused the mortal to pale, head swiveling to Thor’s side in anxiousness and trepidation. “I apologize, my lady,” she rectified her earlier statement. “I didn’t mean to be rude.”

Well, you certainly were, you internally chastised.

Thor took another look at your attire, meticulously examining the fabric. You endeavored to compose yourself, resisting the urge to shift your weight from one foot to another. His hand reached for your arm, his thumb sweeping across your elbow. “Are you well, Lady Y/N? You look… disheveled.”

You immediately retracted your arm, fearing his senses might pick up on your galloping heart. “I am quite alright. I was with Loki in the gardens,” you supplied.

“Loki?” The mortal regarded you with an air of cynicism. Your blood boiled at her brashness. “What were you and Loki doing in the gardens?”

“Have you no tact, you imprudent minger? Although your kind lacks sensibility and decorum, you ought to address those of elevated stature with respect while in their dominion! Neither Prince Loki nor I are your comrades to tolerate such crass mannerisms.”

“I’m… my sincerest apologies, I didn’t think—”

“Thinking is not as sparse on Asgard as it is on Earth. If you find yourself incapable of harnessing a modicum of wisdom when addressing me, then you are in the presence of the wrong Goddess.”

"Y/N," Thor interjected, his omission of your title not slipping past your notice. Nor did you miss the hand that reached out for the mortal girl.

His actions only served to fan the flames of your jealousy and hurt. Almost a millennium of knowing that male, and he had chosen a measly mortal's side over yours.

“Do not patronize me!” you ordered, jamming a finger in his broad, muscular chest. “I am not the right audience for your feigned, princely performance.”

Thor squeezed the mortal’s hand in reassurance, tugging her further to his side—as if to shield her from you. He craned his face lower to meet your gaze. Endearing as you'd always found it, it made you uneasy at this moment.

"You seem overly emotional today,” he inquired, voice low and delicate, juxtaposing his chosen words. “Has Loki said something to upset you?"

You cracked. How dare he?

“Loki may perhaps be the only male in all of Asgard who possesses an ounce of empathy and understanding when it comes to my feelings and disposition,” you snapped back, ignoring how your words seemed to slap Thor in the face. “He has been my best friend for close to a millennium and is one of the princes of this realm. So if I, as a lady of the court, find that your little mortal is besmirching his name, the least I could do is call her out on it!”

Your outburst held more weight than you had anticipated, managing to leave Thor speechless. He regarded you with an air of perplexion, his mouth open—seemingly unsure of what response was fair in this situation. 

You didn’t want to waste any further time in his or the mortal’s company. You grunted, walking away. The sound of your footfall ringing louder than deemed honorable for a lady.

“Y/N, wait!” Thor called out after you, his hand shooting up to grab your arm. Though he was massively built, with the strength and mass of Asgard lying on his shoulders, his shy grasp fluttered against your skin. Featherlike, it tickled your nerves, sending a chorus of tenderness through your pulse.

You turned around, a mask of stoicism hiding your feelings. “Yes?”

“I appreciate your inclination to defend my brother, but, I, and Jane, were merely concerned over your well-being—”

“Accusing Loki of maltreatment!” you reminded Thor, swiftly retracting your arm from his grasp.

He sighed, placing both hands on his hips. You loathed how small he made you feel before the mortal. “You are exaggerating.”

“And you are heedless! Whatever Loki and I were doing in the gardens is none of your or the mortal’s concern! What’s it to you both? Maybe we decided to fondue. We do not get in your business, so do not meddle in ours!”

No sooner had the words left your mouth than your legs commanded you to retreat to another room. You didn’t understand why you had said that. Your wisdom melted into a puddle whenever Thor and his little pet were involved. 

When had you become so insensitive?

Mistress Foster left. Her visit didn’t amass more than a fortnight's worth of frustrations before King Odin had deemed her visit long. If an immortal God such as Odin Allfather perceived these days as anything but transient, then Jane Foster was truly a nuisance in her own right. 

The knowledge of her absence, particularly on this day, overjoyed you. The Vernal Equinox served as a portent of hope for Asgard—embracing prominent figures from neighboring realms in celebration of Asgard’s princes and in anticipation of the future. 

In loose terms, it presented the Asgardian royalty with a wealth of eligible females to choose from as the next princess and queen of the realm. In broader terms, it was another opportunity to observe Loki and Thor merrily charm the ladies to appease Odin and Frigga—while satiating particular desires on the side.

You dismissed your ladies in waiting, taking a deep breath as you pulled open the door. Your feigned smile fell, and the familiar trepidation rose when you saw who stood by the door. 

“Fondue?” Loki snickered, mischief practically waltzing in his bejeweled eyes. “Darling Y/N, had I known you were inclined to roll in my sheets, I would’ve bedded you centuries sooner.”

You grabbed him by the fabric of his tailored robes, pulling him harshly toward your rooms. “I panicked!” you grumbled. It was barely heard over the deafening sound of his amusement. 

“Well, you certainly rectified your error by pulling me into your chambers.”

“Shut up!”

“Ah, my Little Goddess. How exquisitely appetizing do you look,” he joked, purposely raising his voice.

You jumped on him, a screech tearing through your vocal cords. Loki laughed louder, trying to grasp your hands as you assaulted him with your fists. You hadn’t expected him to bite your finger. 

“You bastard!” you seethed, cradling your hand. 

“What was that, Y/N? You want it faster?”

“Loki!!”

“Ah, tell me how good it feels,” he mused.

You were not impressed. “You are an idiot,” you retorted.

Your argument, if you could call it that, receded rather swiftly. You refused to look at Loki, rolling your eyes and settling them on your vanity. You weren’t frustrated, per se. Loki always had a knack for playing with your feelings like they were puppets on a string. Not in a malevolent way. The matter was, if your gaze caught him, you knew the little impish snake would expose the laughter he had succeeded in digging out of you.

Loki’s voice caught you before your thoughts meandered further. “You’re wearing the wrong colors.”

You looked down at yourself, your silver shoes peeking from the fabric of your long blue dress. It was light azure. Quaint and placid. An exterior representation of the feelings you were chasing. The fabric was tulle, whimsical and, airy like Spring’s birds merrily dancing across cloudless Asgardian sky. Its off-shoulder design, adorned with gleaming silver gems and bishop sleeves, accentuated your elegance and grace. A Goddess. A member of the House of Odin, even if you didn’t have a crown. 

“If you’re insinuating I ought to have worn your brother’s colors, then I regret to inform you, that you were mistaken.”

Loki shook his head as a mischievous shadow passed over his face. “You’d appear desperate. And you, Y/N, are anything but.”

“Then what colors were you referencing?” you asked, brows creasing in thought. “Surely not your own.”

“Mine, no. But the witless oaf doesn’t have to know that.”

You didn’t comprehend whatever it was he was insinuating. Wordlessly, Loki twirled his fingers, a thread of emerald green seidr tantalizing your sight. He flicked his wrist. The magical trail shot from his fingertips to your dress, deftly pirouetting along the light azure tulle. 

The colors changed from blue to green and silver to gold. The boldness of your outfit contrasted with the muted portrait you tried to paint earlier. You studied your dress, eyes roving the fabric before examining Loki’s attire. You almost scolded him for putting you in his colors when you did not intend for your farce to go further than it did. But then you noticed these colors, chosen by Loki, were darker than his. 

It was a subtle contrast, discerned when in closer proximity to the God of Mischief. The royal family could immediately catch the difference. The ladies, though, wouldn’t be able to. Neither would Thor.

“Is this a wise choice?” you asked, playing with the sleeves of your dress. 

Loki took your hand in his, kissing the back of it. “The answer lies with you, Little Goddess.”

Wise, maybe not. Fun? It certainly would be. You couldn’t remember the last time you went to these festivities without constantly having to clutch your heart at the thought of Thor.

“It’s a mutual agreement,” you answered diligently. “This keeps the ladies and Thor away.”

Loki tutted. “This keeps the witless oaf’s mind working. He has stashed his wits so far beneath the surface, the cobwebs have devoured them whole.”

“And you think this alliance between wisdom and mischief will decontaminate his head from thoughts of the impertinent mortal?”

“I believe my brother is a hopeless case. If it works, then by all means, enjoy the fruits of our labor. If it doesn’t, then enjoy the privilege of my company.”

“Your company?” you chortled, wrapping your arm around his elbow. “Lokes, I’ll be gracing you with mine.”

He mimicked your chortle, beginning to lead you out of the room. "I must admit, your presence has staggeringly illuminated my days in Asgard. Father is covertly hoping that I ask for your hand in marriage."

"And Frigga?" you asked, aware of Loki's deep affection for his mother and her opinion.

He covered your hand, which rested on his arm, with his free one, leaning closer to your ear. "She much prefers you with Thor." You blushed, a crimson hue spreading across your cheeks. Loki took delight in your sheepishness. "You could spare me the hassle of sifting through noble ladies by accepting a marriage proposal, Y/N. I immensely enjoy roleplay in the bedroom. And though I do not wish to lay eyes on certain biological regions of my brother, I can indulge you if that is what you fancy."

"I fancy your silence, you brute!" you chastised, stomping on his foot.

Loki barely flinched, but he placed some distance between you both. He opened the door, and before you could venture beyond your bedroom, he positioned himself in your line of sight. "You forgot something, darling." The nickname felt foreign, especially when unaccompanied by your first name. Before you could inquire about it, you felt a shimmer of magic raking through your hair.

"What did you do?"

Loki smiled fondly, passing his fingers through your loose hair. "Turned you from a goddess to a princess."

Your gaze locked with his as you lifted your fingers to your head. There was a weight there, not something unbearable but undeniably foreign. Your fingers traced the contours of what you assumed was a diadem.

"What was that for?"

Loki stepped closer to you, his taller frame engulfing yours, cocooning you with his body heat. His lips settled on your forehead, his fingers intertwining with yours. You blinked, mind racing to figure out the parameters of his new trick. “You’re precious, Y/N,” he confessed breathlessly, his voice almost vulnerable. “More valuable than the troves of Asgard and the magic of Yggdrasil. And by the Norns, whoever forsakes your treasured company deserves to be bereft of your radiance, ensnared by the unforgiving grasp of Helheim for their sacrilege, Little Queen.”

For the first time in your 800 years of life, you found yourself at a loss for words in response to Loki's. His words were carefully chosen, poignant, and endearing, befitting his poetic prowess. Yet, something about the declaration felt amiss; a subtle discordance that unsettled you. It was then, out of the corner of your eye, that you caught sight of Thor.

His cerulean eyes, usually bright with warmth, were now veiled in darkness, glinting with a silver sheen you had never seen before. Thor's demeanor betrayed a mix of emotions, his features clouded with anger and a hint of betrayal. Before you could utter a word, he turned and left, his bloody red ceremonial attire fading from view.

Loki's intentions became clearer then. He sought to deceive Thor. But why would such words incite his brother's ire? And why had Loki chosen to describe you as such?

This Vernal Equinox proved to be different. You couldn’t categorize it as either good or bad as you had yet to comprehend your perplexing emotions about the celebration. The familiar joviality and folly were missing given that Loki and Thor seemed to have reversed their roles. 

Content with you on his arm, Loki’s charade persisted well into the late hours of the evening. He kept you to his side, not that you minded, twirling, discoursing, and occasionally, joking about the whole ordeal. The nobles, courtiers, and ladies had all presumed you debuting, your green dress a declaration of your choice in contenders. If not for that, then the golden diadem on your head 

Frigga and Odin seemed to know better. The Allfather offered you and his youngest no more than a feeble smile, pleased to see you and Loki together, even though he knew this was all but a farce. The Allmother, while graceful as ever, did not attempt to mask her errant gaze, her bright eyes dimming as she looked at Thor. 

The older son, heir to the throne of Asgard, had forgone merriment in favor of appeasing the ladies. Given that Loki had monopolized your time, all of the wayward bachelorettes traveled toward Thor. No lady was cast aside, each receiving a handful of minutes with the prince. And though that should’ve hurt you, the ache in your heart could only be attributed to the misery Thor wore. 

You and Loki drifted toward Sif and the Warriors Three since Thor had abandoned his usual idle chatter and reckless drinking. Hours later, Fandral was on the verge of passing out, Hogun was inebriated yet still standing, while Volstagg recounted one of the ancient battles on Alfheim to Loki and Sif.

When it was an hour past midnight, you excused yourself from the festivities, claiming you were too tired to continue. 

In truth, sleep evaded you. Your mind inundated with thoughts. But you didn’t allow yourself to entertain one more question or idea, letting your feet guide you wherever they preferred. 

You reached one of the castle’s balconies, a small one on the right side of the ballroom. You could still hear the music from the festivities, although it was a gentle hum. Euphonious and dulcet, serving as the perfect ballad in the backdrop. The sky lit up, gleaming stars strewn across the darkness. You wondered if they were the Norns’ portents. If you could wish upon them and the world would hum in answer. 

The sound of retreating footsteps pulled your attention away from the sky. You knew that silhouette anywhere. 

“Thor?” the word tumbled from your lips before you could fully register what the night had brought. 

Thor’s shoulders tensed. He didn’t respond, almost as if contemplating whether to provide you with an answer or ignore your presence. He sighed, broad shoulders deflating, before he turned around. 

“I apologize, Lady Y/N. I was not aware the area was preoccupied.”

“You need not to apologize, Thor,” you stated, unsure where his usual boldness had gone. “The area is large enough to accommodate both of us.”

It almost looked as though Thor would decline your offer. His blue eyes wandered, from you to the horizon then back. He regarded you in an unfamiliar way, taking in your appearance. You didn’t want him to catch sight of your fluster, so you turned your back to him, getting lost in the sight of Asgard at night. 

When you thought Thor would leave, you heard him make his way to your side. 

“I wish to apologize to you, Y/N,” he whispered, uncertainly. Not because he did not mean it, no. You knew Thor well enough to tell when he was lying about something. Your friendship with Loki illuminating his brother’s traits further. Thor leaned on his side, the banister supporting his weight. His demeanor was brittle, a far cry from what you had known. Your breath was lost in your throat, unsure whether you should gasp or sob. A step forward and there would be no distance between the both of you. You never wanted to hug him more. “Had I known you and my brother were…” He paused, taking in a shaky breath. “...Courting. Had I known, neither I nor Jane would have adopted such an insensitive tone before.”

You shook your head, fingers tingling to reach out for him. “We’re…Loki and I we’re…” But you couldn’t complete your sentence. A part of you imploring to deny Thor’s claim. Another fearing Thor’s distance if you admitted the truth. 

“An odd combination,” Thor smiled, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “Mischief and Counsel. Wisdom and Lies.”

“They’re opposite sides of the same coin. Perhaps, that’s why they work better than expected,” you defended, unsure why. 

Thor nodded, the same meek smile unerased. He looked down at his feet, strands of his blond hair covering his face. It had grown taller from the last time he had cut it on Midgard. Now resting upon his shoulders. As if he needed more weight to bear. 

“I must admit that he might be the luckiest one between us both. And he does not even know it?”

Your hand shot up involuntarily, clutching at the golden jewels across the bodice of your dress. “How so?” you asked, your thumb circling the fabric in a futile attempt at soothing your heartache at Thor’s tone. 

One of Thor’s hands glided across the banister, landing where yours had laid. While his gaze held your face, your eyes couldn’t help but land on his larger hand. “Loki presumes I cannot tell his ire at the court ladies galivanting to my side. He has always been too forlorn to understand that numbers have mattered not to me.” His hand dared to reach for yours then, a featherlike caress that made your heart gallop faster than Sleipnir. “Those who choose me over Loki desire nothing more than the throne. I have nothing else to offer. No wit, no literary aptitude, or poetic charm. I am nothing but brutish and capricious. It takes a no great amount of ardor to love my brother. It takes a kingdom to love someone like me.”

You retracted your hand, the action so unexpected and harsh, Thor jumped back in surprise. He opened his mouth, perhaps to apologize, but he closed it when he saw the expression you wore. Silver misted your irises, decayed and morose, mirroring the disheartenment that haunted you. 

“How can you say that?” you questioned—shrieked, even. Tears cascaded down your cheeks, your hands clawing at your dress because of the pain you felt. “Who…who made you feel as such?”

“Y/N—”

“No, Thor! You cannot utter such insidious words in my presence! You are kind, tender, and caring. A summer’s breath, warm and ecstatic. In your fierceness, you wield passion, and in your tempest resides the strength to protect. You are worthy of many things, Thor Odinson. And love is atop that wealth. I would forgo the world’s realms and riches to bask in the light of your affection.”

The words that traversed the distance between were not measured nor were they second-guessed. You had not the time to question your affections, wondering if it was worth bringing them to light or not. But you needed Thor to understand that what he felt, the dejectedness and loneliness, were unwarranted. 

You need to touch him, embrace him—assure his heart that he was worthy, and if you couldn’t do it physically, then your words had to suffice. 

Thor stood there, his expression a mix of shock, confusion, and something akin to hope. He reached out tentatively, brushing away the tears from your cheek with his thumb. “Y/N…”

You allowed his thumb to trace the skin beneath your eyes before wrapping your arms around him in a tight embrace, burying your face in his chest. Once, you thought to yourself. Even if this was a lie, I’ll gladly entertain it, just this once.

“Those ladies who crave your affections for the crown are not worthy of you. Even if you were the second son, even if the Norns had created you a mortal, you would still be worthy, Thor. You would still be loved.”

Thor’s hands traveled from your back. One moved up to cradle your head while the other rested on your lower back, cradling you closer to his chest. You could hear his heartbeats frantically drumming against his rib cage. Almost as if they were loud enough to create their own melody.  

You felt Thor plant a kiss atop of your head, close to where the diadem lay. He swayed with you in his arms, hold on you tightening and unwilling to let go. “You’re precious, Y/N,” he recited the words with complete reverence. Their familiarity registered, but you didn’t have time to question him before he continued, “More valuable than the troves of Asgard and the magic of Yggdrasil. And by the Norns, whoever forsakes your treasured company deserves to be bereft of your radiance, ensnared by the unforgiving grasp of Helheim for their sacrilege, Little Queen.”

A sharp gasp escaped your lips. “What did you just say?” you questioned, still nestled in his protective embrace.

“Loki did not compose this prose,” Thor confessed, his eyes dark with hesitation. “I wrote it. Two hundred years ago. For you.”

“What?” you breathed, the word splintering with emotion.

“I…I have always felt a connection to you. A sense of calm. Your wisdom and grace, but above all, your charm and wit captured my heart before I even knew it.”

“You never said anything,” you reminded, blinking harshly against the realization.

“How could I?” Thor’s thumb brushed the side of your mouth, drawing a choked whimper from you. “You are elegant while I am rough. A prince by title, but not by manner—”

“Do not belittle yourself in my presence.”

Thor chuckled softly, his gaze just as gentle.

“You are the Goddess of Wisdom, Little Queen.” That nickname—the Norns damn it—stirred emotions in you that you had never felt before. “What wisdom would there be in associating with the God of Thunder?”

“Is that why you distanced yourself?” The question was thick with unspoken feelings. “Is that why…why you chose Jane?” Over me. Your thought was left unspoken.

Thor’s expression darkened with remorse, his features shadowed by regret. “Have you never noticed the similarities between you two?”

“What similarities?”

“She is a smart woman. Accomplished, fastidious, attentive, and resilient despite her delicate appearance. Just as you are.”

“She is a mortal,” you countered. 

Thor nodded solemnly. “She cannot be made a queen. Not in the eyes of the Asgardians.”

“Then why—”

“It would be easier to gauge her choice.” Thor shifted his weight from one foot to the other. You realized too late that he was pulling away, keeping you at arm’s length. “As I said.” His gaze traveled the expanse of your body, regret permeating the air suddenly. “Those who choose me do it for Asgard’s throne. Those who choose my brother do it for love,” he reiterated, brokenly. He added in a more fractured tone, “You look stupendous in emerald green, my lady.”

“Viridian,” you corrected, evoking his bafflement. “It’s viridian green, a darker shade than emerald. Truthfully, I had opted for my own colors. But Loki approached my chambers before I could leave, and he all but decided to trick the court to his own advantage.”

“You’re not… you’re not courting Loki?”

You shook your head. “No. He and I have long been friends.”

“Friends,” Thor repeated, but there was a shift in the air when he said the word—as if Valhalla’s gates had opened and the angels descended to Asgard, humming their dulcet ballads.

“Tell me that’s not what we were,” you ventured, figuring that courage ought to accompany wisdom. “Tell me after all that was said and done that we weren’t just friends.”

You expected Thor to flounder, to grapple with an answer to your demand. “It wouldn’t make sense,” he attested. “It wouldn’t make sense if that were all we were, Little Queen.”

The angels of Valhalla must have roared, not sung, because as soon as Thor had breathed those words, tentative and full of fealty, his lips captured your own. You understood then, the complexity that arose from his role as God of Thunder. Your lips were in a fray, lapping at each other, wet and thunderous as you were conquered by his veneration. His large hands grabbed at your bottom, hoisting you up in the air. Your dress didn’t allow you the pleasure of wrapping your legs around his waist, but that didn’t stop you from clutching at his clothes, his hair, his soul.

Thor’s lips caressed your own. There was no set direction to their motion, almost as if he couldn’t decide whether to take it slow or devour you whole. The noises you made, the noises he made, small and mellow, reverberated in the empty space, adding to the symphony of your love and desire.

You didn’t want to pull away. Latching to the thunder and lightning invading your senses, getting lost in the storm.

A shiver ran down your entire body, accentuated by Thor’s teeth nipping at your lower lip. “Y/N,” he whispered breathlessly.

Your eyes opened, your image framed by his irises—protectively and vehemently.

He settled you on the ground, lips widening at your sight. “My colors suit you best.”

You didn’t understand what he had meant until you looked down. Your clothes had changed color. Again. The accent of your attire shifted to a bold red and silver.

“You best not attempt to produce an heir tonight, brother,” Loki sounded from behind Thor. He wore a smug smirk, leaning against one of the balcony pillars. Of course that bastard followed you. “Our chambers are nearby, and I do not need to hear my brother and best friend fondue.”

You blushed, cheeks turning crimson. Thor didn’t even spare Loki a glance, focusing his attention on you. “Little Queen, you look magnificent in my colors strewn across every inch of your body.”

And before you could help yourself, you boldly claimed, “I would look even more magnificent with your love marks strewn across every inch of my body.”

Thor’s eyes darkened, a primal yearning painting his irises with desire. He tugged at your hands then, pulling you to his chest. “Let me mark you with centuries worth of love, Little Queen. Allow me to show you what lesser beings cannot do.”

“Show me, my God.”

You drowned in his ardent storm, uncaring for the waves, noise, or the chaos. It was senseless. Everything you never were. Everything Thor was. Everything you, deep down, longed to feel with him.

Thank you @crazyunsexycool for this request! It was so fun to write for Thor, you can tell since this turned out to be 6K words🥹 I couldn't stop! Seriously, this might've been my favorite fic ever! Thank you for participating in my celebration. ♥️

I might extend my writing celebration if more requests come in. For all those interested, please feel free to follow the link!

I hope you like this one, witchlings. Okay, byeeee.

[yichuuonvenus]

The Willow Maid

Dark!Peter Parker x Reader

~Description~

You were enchanting… Everything about you made him floored by you from the way you smiled to the way you moved. Your hair always seemed to shine in the moonlight. Just like right now.

~Warnings~

Rape/Non-con, Possessive Behavior, Face Slapping, Dryad!reader, Hunter!Peter Parker, Fantasy AU

You were enchanting…

Everything about you made him floored by you from the way you smiled to the way you moved. 

Your hair always seemed to shine in the moonlight. 

Just like right now.

Peter couldn’t stop staring at you. He came across you suddenly when he heard a voice singing. The music that came from your lips had him enchanted by you. It was so soft and sweet. It sounded like a song that was meant for him. 

You were like a dream to Peter. A beautiful magical dream he didn’t want to wake from. He knew from the first song your voice prettily sang you were rightfully his. 

He wanted only him to hear your sweet loving songs. For him to be the only one you sang to. That’s what he decided the day he wanted to take you away and marry you. 

He followed you every day constantly and marked what you did, how you did it, why you did it. He figured out that you lived on the willow tree. Sleeping in the sturdier part of the branches. There you would make blankets out of the yarn-like leaves and sing your heavenly songs. 

You never left the forest, or the willow tree. It was like a post. He noticed how you would hug the tree and talk to it as if it could understand you. He loved just watching when you talked to the tree. The smile that would grace your face only made him fall deeper in love with you. 

Today, you were just lazing about on the forest bed waving your hand through the water, giggling at the fishes that swam up to kiss your hand. You look so blissful just laying there enjoying the water. 

He decided that today was the day he was going to make you, his. That he was going to introduce himself instead of watching you. 

He stepped steadily into view but you didn’t look up so he stepped a bit closer. His shadow and reflection mirrored in the water, all the fishes swam away scared by the sudden shadow. Your hand stopped waving through the water for a moment and you focused on the reflection. You carefully turned around and when you did your beauty was one like no other. 

You both stared at each other for what seemed like an eternity before he finally broke the silence. 

“My maiden… I I have been enchanted by you…” he said eyes filled with admiration. 

Your gaze remained unchanged, a look of neither surprise nor nervousness. It was just your natural face, a face of pure serenity. 

“Come with me. Come with me, my maiden,” he whispered the last part but he knew you still heard him.

He didn’t know if you understood him until you shook your head.

You spoke, your voice ever so gentle made his heart sing but the words that left your mouth made his immediately made him snap out of it, “I cannot leave this place, Hunter. Don't ask me to follow where you lead.” 

Before he could even have a chance to think you left him, disappearing in the willow’s thick leaves. 

Peter stared dumbfounded at the place you left him. He wanted to follow you towards the tree but he didn’t see signs of you anywhere around or in the tree. 

He knew he had to try again. 

No, He needed to try again and this time you wouldn’t say no. 

. . . 

Peter held a yellow flower he’s seen you stare at often in awe and smell with glee on your face. He thought since you rarely left, it would be nice if you could have the flower for yourself.

You were staring out into the River bank humming softly while braiding bits of your hair. You looked so serene like you’ve known nothing but the calamity of the forest for your entire life. Peter would be the one to change that, to show you the world. 

You stopped when you heard him. You turned your head with a look he couldn’t quite place. 

“My maiden, your beauty is nothing compared to this flower but I hope it will suffice…” he gently laid the flower in your hands.

You gently held the flower in your hands and stared at it. Your eyebrows furrowed while you looked at it. 

“I’m enchanted by you and your beauty. I want to be the only one who listens to your sweet songs. I hope to be your husband,” he said eyes gleaming at you. 

You couldn’t hide your feelings. Your face said it all as your lips curved into a soft frown and tears started to well in your eyes. 

You shook your head just like before while holding the flower tightly to your chest. 

“I will never marry you,” you said, the frown on your face becoming more apparent. “Not near, nor far, nor soon.” 

A small why left Peter’s lips as you stared at him. As if you were frightened you stepped back towards your willow. Peter couldn’t let you go. Not yet. Not while you are not giving him an answer as to why. 

Peter gripped your dress. You let out a yep before trying to pull him off, tearing it in the process just before you vanished. 

Peter was angry. You left him again just after he gave you a flower and poured his feelings into you. 

“You will come to regret your decision,” he said into the wind. You still heard him and shook as you laid the flower on the willow tree’s branches, softly crying for him to just go away. 

Days went by. 

Then weeks. 

Then months… 

He was nowhere to be found. 

You went on your day like any other. It was sunny and the green lush leaves of your tree shined brilliantly. You lay on the grass, admiring the new flowers that were growing in. It was all so peaceful. That hunter was finally gone and you could enjoy protecting your tree. 

You could’ve laid there all day but you had things to do. Things that were important to the plant life of the forest. You went on your way. You could never stray from your tree or your forest so you had the help of little rabbits and squirrels to get you the things you needed. 

You felt something was wrong for a moment like there was an impending doom that was about to befall the forest. You wanted to ignore it. Your mother protected you and the woods, surely nothing would happen. 

Oh how wrong you were. 

You felt a hit to the back of your head and when you came to. You were on the forest floor with nothing on. You would’ve screamed if there wasn’t a gag in your mouth. Your hands were tied. There was no way you could’ve freed yourself. There was a voice in your ear telling you it was okay. Whispering how much you looked tonight while they petted your hair. 

Your lungs almost gave out from your muffled screams. That hunter was right above you, kissing your face, using his filthy hands to touch your body, stroking and touching the most precious parts of you. 

“Mother,” you tried to say. “Mother help me.”

But no one came. No one was there to save you. You cried when you realized it. That no one was coming for you. Not even your mother. 

His eyes were so soft as they stared back at yours, which made you confused. You could feel that he was conflicted with what he wanted to do. You didn’t sense any regret nor was he upset with what he was about to do. He pressed his fingers against you, slowly rubbing your clit until you were wet enough for his fingers. He kept his fingers there while his other hand lowered down to a spot that had you screaming. You kept twisting the rope that was holding you it was rubbing your skin raw and you could smell the blood that came from it. 

A harsh slap made you stop altogether. It was so hard it had your ears ringing throughout your head. 

“My sweet maiden please forgive me. I just wanted to calm you,” he said as tears rolled down his cheeks. 

What he was feeling now was remorse but it wasn’t for you. It was for him because he didn’t want to hit you. He was upset because you made him hit you. You could’ve thrown up at the emotions you were feeling from him. The scent of no regrets of what he wanted to do to you made you sick. 

Fingers stuff themselves deep into you. You’ve never felt anything more intrusive than his fingers. They are what made you quiet other than your deep breaths that he mistook. For what you weren’t sure but he made him happy every time you cried out. 

When he felt like he was done he pulled down his trousers. He couldn’t wait as he hurriedly untied them. You knew that there was no going back after this. He held his cock over you. It was thick and veiny with an angry red tip. It had you choking just by the look at it. You held your breath and closed your eyes as he slid it back and forth till he was slick enough with your wetness. 

Slowly he entered and all the air inside your lungs left you. It was a piercing sensation that took over the bottom half of your body. It was so painful, every waking moment made you feel like you were on the verge of passing out. 

“Relax… my maiden relax,” he said. 

Relax? After being taken against your will and being violated in the worst possible way. You wanted to hurt him, a feeling that you’ve never felt before. You wanted to kill him. You couldn’t even move or breathe for that matter. 

What disgusted you the most was his moans as he thrusts slowly, lovingly even. He was so infatuated by your beauty that he didn’t even notice the fact that your face looked so disgusted by the sight of him. 

It finally got easier after what felt like hours of him just thrusting into you. It felt like it was never-ending. If this was what it felt like to be with someone you’re supposed to love you were having none of it. It was like the devil himself made his own personal hell for you. His thrusts, his pants that were all over your face and neck, and his hands constantly touching you. 

You felt like you were about to break apart. And break apart you did. This feeling that was so overwhelming it had your legs wanting to close. Your body was quivering so hard you thought maybe this was it. The small death before absolution. 

Your gasps and pants fell from your lips and continued to come out as the hunter got faster and faster. He wasn’t done. Not yet not when he was so close. He did one final thrust that had him calling out to the gods above. 

Wet and sticky was all you felt when he pulled himself from you. You couldn’t bring yourself to sit up to look at what he did to you. There was no way you could’ve handled it. So you lay there as he pulled on his clothes. He removed your restraints mostly because he knew you wouldn’t get up and run around. There was no way you could’ve not with the aching pain between your legs. 

You hear the hunter pick up something and start to hit your tree. Your willow tree. You ran towards him. You didn’t know where the sudden energy came from but you knew that you needed to stop whatever he was doing. He pushed you down before swinging his axe again. 

“I’m freeing you, my dear maiden.”

One… two… three more strikes and your tree was down. You felt tears form at the base of your eye-line. You hugged the tree, crying into it. Whispering sorrows and pleas for forgiveness. You didn’t do anything to it but you still as though you needed to ask it for forgiveness. You shook as you sobbed into the bark. You wanted nothing more than to disappear. Go to a place where this hunter could never hurt you again. 

You had nowhere to go now. No home to call yours. He gently picked you up as you sobbed. You sobbed in his chest the whole way towards the edge of the forest. He took you. He took something that didn’t belong to him. You felt yourself fading as soon as he stepped one foot out of the forest. You didn’t know what was happening only that you could feel your energy slipping away. 

Peter screamed and fell to his knees when he saw your body practically turn into dust and in your stead of where the powder of your body used to be grew a flower. It was beautiful. One he had never seen before. He touched the flower and his body stayed in that position as if a punishment for taking something from the forest that was never meant to leave. 

His final thought was only of you. 

At least his body would remain close to you.

[skyloftian-nutcase]

Blood of the Hero Ch 15 (Link’s parents play BotW)

Summary: The Soul of the Hero will always be there to save Hyrule. But when Calamity Ganon is nearly victorious in killing him, it's those that bear the Blood of the Hero who will prevail. Ten years after the Great Calamity, the Shrine of Resurrection is damaged and Link's parents fight to save their son and Hyrule along with him.

i.e. Link's parents play BotW while protecting their boy and they are ready to take on Ganon himself if they have to.

Chapter 15: Fallen Knight - The Chase

Tilieth knew Abel didn’t really pray anymore.

It wasn’t that he hadn’t prayed at all since the Calamity. She’d found him speaking softly to Hylia a mere fortnight before the Shrine of Resurrection had been damaged. She’d heard his voice quiver as he’d asked to see his son again. She remembered her own throat tightening up listening to it.

But it had been a difficult night. It had been a holiday they’d used to celebrate. Abel usually refused to pray unless at the breaking point.

Tilieth was always sad to see it.

How was it that her dear husband couldn’t understand that the goddesses didn’t interfere as he thought they did? The ancient goddesses created the world, leaving its care to Hylia. And Hylia would not force people to do anything they didn’t want to. She acted through others, through their choices to help. Abel seemed convinced that she could have just snapped her divine fingers and just fixed everything, but that wasn’t how it worked.

But in either case, Tilieth knew that when her husband said he just wanted to pray, it was a blatant lie. Abel was up to something.

She lay in bed for a long time, watching Link sleep peacefully. She listened, wondering what exactly her husband was doing. He’d reassured her gently and lovingly and lied to her face. She’d decided not to confront him immediately, waiting to see, waiting to catch him in the act so he couldn’t deny it. She didn’t want to argue. They had enough going on in their lives; she didn’t need to add an argument between them to it. She knew Abel was trying not to cause friction, either, but…

What are you doing, Abel?

She heard a horse. Ama, probably. So he was going somewhere.

Tilieth remembered the last time Abel had been off somewhere in the night and hadn’t told her. He’d gotten hurt. He might have almost gotten killed if it hadn’t been for Sheik.

She wasn’t letting that happen this time. It was time to talk sense into her husband.

Rising, she tucked Link in a little better, kissing his head softly. He would be safe here. She felt confident in that, at least. She crept outside, heading to Epona, who was grazing peacefully.

“Sorry, old girl,” she apologized as the horse perked up, ears pointing forward as she watched her approach. “We have an idiot to rescue, I’m afraid.”

Epona huffed out a breath as if amused. Tilieth chuckled at it before putting the saddle on her. It didn’t take long to finish gearing her up, and Tilieth was soon out in the open field. She gazed up at the sky a moment, distracted by the array of stars, admiring the beauty of it, before she looked back down, focusing. Abel couldn’t have gotten too far ahead, and she had a good vantage point from the top of this hill.

She could hear it in the distance. A horse cantering. Tilieth squinted, trying to figure out where Abel had snuck off to. She had a sudden, insanely strong sense of déjà vu, remembering years ago when she’d have to search for her children when they snuck out in the night.

Honestly, and Abel claimed they got all their mischievous tendencies from her.

The melancholy that came with the memory pulled at her heart a little, but she didn’t have time to focus on it. Instead, she swallowed and held on to her resolve, making Epona walk forward a little as she finally caught sight of something.

She traced the movement a while, recognizing that its rhythmic motions matched the sound of the horse hooves she was hearing. That had to be him. He was down at the bottom of the hill and around the corner, heading down a different trail, and—

Wait a second. That was Eagus Bridge, wasn’t it?

He’s going to Central Hyrule?! Is he insane?!

Tilieth froze up instantly. Central Hyrule was… well, she didn’t know! Neither of them knew what dangers awaited there! What was he thinking?! She recalled how barren it had looked yesterday, how nothing had grown back yet – if nothing was growing, that implied something was still there preventing it, right?

Panic seized her body. She couldn’t move for a moment, couldn’t urge Epona ahead, couldn’t think. But as terrified as she was of what dangers there might be, she was even more terrified of the fact that Abel was heading into it. She caught her breath, she gave a command and Epona was racing—she’d always been a fast horse—and the wind was blowing through her hair, and it was starting to rain, splashing clarity into her face like a slap.

It didn’t take long to reach the point of no return. She abruptly pulled back on the reins.

Tilieth stared ahead at the bridge. Epona waited patiently as she listened to her heart race, as her thoughts spun in circles dizzyingly, worries whittling away at her sanity and resolve.

There could be guardians!

But Abel was there.

There could be monsters!

But Abel was there.

Abel had always been the strong one between the two of them. Tilieth knew that. She’d pulled her weight as best she could on the plateau, hunting on occasion, learning to use a bow. But she knew she was useless against formidable foes.

She should wait for him to return.

No! Tilieth shook her head, squeezing tightly on Epona’s reins. She wouldn’t let her husband get himself hurt. He was exhausted, and he was stressed, and he wasn’t thinking straight.

Abel always protected her. It was her turn to protect him.

Glaring into the darkness, Tilieth spurred Epona forward as thunder crashed overhead. Despite her resolve, she trembled from head to toe, but she would not stop.

I can do this. Abel needs me.

The rain was growing heavier, curtains cascading from the sky, making it difficult to see anything at all. Tilieth stayed alert, downright skittish, really, when she heard a horse whinny up ahead. Breathless, she urged Epona to move, feeling entirely too exposed.

And then she saw them.

Abel was frantic, and he—he and Ama were on the ground! Tilieth leapt off Epona, rushing towards them, and called out to her husband, when—

When… what?

Rain splashed her face. She shivered. Her stomach churned. Her head pounded.

Heavy breaths, screaming, sobs.

Worried voices, warmth, softness.

“She’ll be alright, Sir Abel, I promise. She just needs a potion when she wakes up.”

When she woke up? But she was awake, right?

Good heavens, why did her head hurt so much?

Tilieth slowly opened her eyes, squinting and grimacing as the candlelight was entirely too much. She vaguely made out fuzzy shapes, trying to focus on anything. She was in a bed; she registered that much. But how? Wasn’t she somewhere else? She thought she’d been somewhere else.

Outside. She’d been outside, right?

There were people here. Two or three, from what she could tell. One stood in the distance, watching. Another paced the length of the room. Wait, was there a third? Maybe not. It was probably the pacing one that caught her attention.

Why had she been outside?

Tilieth shifted a little, moaning as her head throbbed. The pacing person stopped immediately before practically materializing beside her in an instant.

“Til,” a shaky voice whispered, and Tilieth recognized it in a heartbeat. Her husband’s features came into focus as he hovered over her, eyes bloodshot, cheeks flushed, hair a mess, soaking wet. He practically fell onto the bed where she was, pulling her into a hug, trembling.

Tilieth… didn’t know what to do with this turn of events. Clearly something was wrong, right? What was wrong? “Abel…?”

“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice muffled in her shoulder, his hug nearly painful with how tight it was. It made her head hurt even more. “I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry—”

Why was he apologizing? What was— “Is Link okay?”

Abel pulled away a little, breath coming in shallow rasps, and to her alarm she saw he was on the verge of tears. “Link’s fine. He’s fine. I promise.”

Then why was he…?

Before Tilieth could get another word out, Abel was shoving a bottle into her face. “Drink this.”

She listened, wondering what it was she was drinking. It had a syrupy flavor and consistency with a strangely bitter aftertaste, and she made a somewhat disgusted face after swallowing it. Her headache dulled, though, and she had enough energy in her now to cough and protest, “Oh, honey, that was disgusting, what did you give me?”

Abel’s face lit up a little with relief, and he pulled her into another bone crushing hug. Tilieth was infinitely more aware of the fact that he was drenched, how he shivered, how he’d—

Been outside too. They’d both been—

Central Hyrule. They’d been in Central Hyrule! What had happened? Had a monster attacked?

“What happened?” she asked, wrapping her arms around her husband. Her body was sluggish to respond, and it was frustrating, but she didn’t feel dizzy or nauseous now, and her vision had cleared up. Behind Abel, she could see the Sheikah healer, Kollin, standing in the entranceway to wherever they were.

Oh! The inn! That was where they were. She looked to her right, and sure enough, Link was sleeping beside them in the next bed over. She could hear the rainfall on the thatched roof. Behind Kollin, Lady Impa watched them as well.

She tried to piece together what really had happened. Surely… wait, Abel and his horse had been on the ground! She remembered that. There had to have been some kind of attack. She must have gotten her head hit at some point.

“Oh, honey,” she said softly, holding her husband as much as she could. Abel hadn’t spoken to explain anything, and that nearly scared her just as much as not knowing. “Tell me what happened.”

Slowly, Abel pulled away, watching her. He no longer looked on the verge of tears. Some strange resolve was in his eyes now, a fire of conviction that steadily turned him to stone. He leaned in, kissing her on the lips with a tenderness she hadn’t felt from him in a while, and then he pulled away, rising. “Get some sleep, love.”

Tilieth really would rather just know how in the world they’d ended up back in Kakariko, but she supposed it could wait until morning. She did still feel exhausted. Sighing, she pat the bed, trying to give him a smile. “Will you join me?”

Her husband was silent, shadows casting over his face. He looked so far away all of a sudden. “Later, Til.”

A pang of annoyance sparked within her, but she didn’t have the energy to argue with him. Her husband could be so blasted stubborn sometimes. She’d get on his case later. In the morning. When she wasn’t quite so… tired…

Tilieth slipped into sleep faster than she anticipated, and the world faded around her.

XXX

Impa watched Sir Abel with heaviness and dread in her heart.

The night had been eventful enough. The man had come into the village at a full canter on his horse, calling for help. Impa had responded immediately, alongside many others, and she’d retrieved Kollin to assist once they’d realized Tilieth had been hurt. When Impa had asked what had happened, the knight was dismissive at every turn.

It wouldn’t have bothered Impa so much if it weren’t for the look on his face.

It had been ten years. Impa had seen her people suffer through the aftereffects of the Calamity. She had suffered through it. She’d been the royal advisor back then, Zelda’s best friend and confidante, a capable warrior but always on the sidelines. When everything had burned, her parents had died, Purah had left the village, her friends had been brutally murdered, and her dearest friend had to hold back horrors unimaginable by herself with the promise of hope that no one had any way of knowing would come. Impa had to cope with the unimaginable, and she had no way of knowing how to do so.

Impa had waited with anticipation for Link’s arrival for days, weeks, months, despite Robbie’s words predicting that it would take approximately fifty years (because there was no way that was true, there was no way they would have to wait that long, there was no way Zelda could hold out that long). By the fifth year, she’d realized this was going to take far longer than she’d initially anticipated.

It had been strange, to be in such a holding pattern, to wait for a continuation of a horrific event, before realizing that she had to close that chapter of her life.

She had a sinking suspicion Sir Abel had not yet done so. She could hardly blame him, but…

She’d seen the trembling hands before, the jumpiness, the lack of trust. Those who had survived the massacre were all scarred from its wounds.

Sir Abel was not doing well. But he would not listen to her, no matter what kind of argument she might throw at him. Impa had dealt with his son, understood the kind of quiet resolve her friend had, and was quickly observing who he had gotten it from.

The knight was pacing Impa’s home. It was no longer the frantic, worried steps he’d had earlier before his wife had awoken and drank some potion. This was slower, contemplative, brooding, heavy and dangerous.

Impa glanced to the side as Kollin watched them both with concern. Her fiancé was always a bit of a worrier. She smiled and nodded towards the door.

The healer sighed and nodded. “I’m going to retrieve some more potions for you wife. She should be fine with some rest – one more elixir will fix her right up in the morning, I think.”

Sir Abel looked at him briefly, eyes dull, and nodded.

Impa shuffled uncertainly, wondering how to proceed. She’d seen the captain of the royal guard prior to the Calamity, and it was still terrifyingly striking how different he was now. Although she and the royal knight had never been particularly close, she at least knew him, she’d seen the gentle way he’d watch his son, the neutral stoicism he’d bear, the strength yet warmth he’d convey in his posture, impervious to pain or fear or worry.

The broken, cold, paranoid survivor before her was not the same man, and she didn’t know how to reach him.

She didn’t even know what she should say if she could. She wanted to reassure him that everything would be fine, but her own heart filled with worry as well. She had to have faith that Hylia would ensure everything worked out – when the two had carried her mutilated friend, still so broken and weak, into her village, she’d nearly fallen apart.

The Shrine of Resurrection is broken. The Shrine was their one hope, yet here these two had found a new avenue to pursue, maintaining the light that would join Zelda in defeating Ganon. But the Shrine wasn’t the only thing that was broken in Link’s life, clearly, and the more Sir Abel paced, the more worried Impa became.

She needed this tension to release. Why had the knight chosen to come to her as if to speak with her, and then done this instead?

“Sir Abel,” she started uncertainly, speaking softly as if to a cornered animal. “I know you’re worried—”

“I need your word,” Sir Abel interrupted, finally pausing, dark eyes boring into her soul. They were Link’s eyes, but their blue was like the sea before a storm.

“M-my… my word?”

“You were friends with the princess,” the knight continued, facing her fully, and the air felt heavier all of a sudden. Impa felt the hair on the back of her neck stand up, rather like it did just before a fight. She tried to look as nonthreatening as possible, not wanting to provoke anything. Of all her warriors, she’d never seen one quite as on edge as him. “You traveled with Link. You’re a Sheikah.”

“Yes,” she agreed slowly. “My loyalty is absolute, good knight. I assure you.”

Why was he doing this line of questioning? His lack of trust from the past few days had never been this… she didn’t even know how to describe it. Something was different about the man, something desperate and wild. What had happened out there?

“That loyalty,” Sir Abel continued. “How far does it extend? I need your word…”

“We’ve done nothing that would imply we would hurt Link,” Impa tried to help him parse out the logic. “Link’s my friend.”

“And his mother?” Sir Abel questioned, his voice breaking a moment, face darkening.

What? Had a Sheikah hurt Tilieth? “I promise, she’s safe here. You all are.”

“Give me your word,” Sir Abel growled.

“I swear on my honor as a Sheikah,” Impa said easily, wondering if this was what was causing his behavior. “But please, if one of my people did this, tell me. I’ll ensure there’s justice, Sir Abel. I promise you’re all safe here.”

The knight swallowed, breath suddenly shaky, eyes flicking down to the floor and unable to look at her anymore.

So… not a Sheikah, then? Or…? What was happening?

“Promise me you’ll protect her,” he finally said quietly, fists clenching.

Impa felt the dread grow heavier in her chest. “Sir Abel… I… I swear on my parents’ graves, on my life that she is safe. Please… trust that she and your son are going to be okay. What is the matter?”

Sir Abel was silent, his breathing measured but heavy, loud enough to be heard over the rain on the roof.

Finally, he looked her in the eye once more, dark heaviness dissipating, frozen over by a cold, impenetrable resolve. “I have a favor to ask of you, Lady Impa.”

The rain grew heavier. Thunder rumbled as lightning tore across the sky. The door to the chief’s home slid open some time later, revealing the battered former knight as he purposefully walked down the stairs towards his black mare. He pet the horse a little, whispering an apology to her for all the trouble he’d been putting her through, geared up with a soldier’s sword and shield, and then mounted the saddle.

Kakariko was so quiet in the middle of this cold, stormy night. Abel shivered in the rain, glancing at the inn. Tightening the climber’s bandana he was wearing, he willed all his love towards the small building, body trembling, heart a pile of ash.

Nudging Ama’s sides with his feet, he guided the horse out of the village as thunder roared, covering the sounds of the horse’s hooves. They headed north, disappearing into the curtains of rain, slow and steady, and the sad eyes of the knight hardened, heart turning to stone, determination and self-loathing drowning him more than any downpour ever could.

XXX

Tilieth felt like she must have been sleeping for a year with how sluggish her body was.

The daylight was barely spilling indoors as she fluttered her eyes open blearily. She was on her side, and the first thing she saw was a red elixir on the nightstand, and just beyond that, Link sleeping peacefully on the bed beside her.

Smiling sleepily, Tilieth reached for her baby boy, but she couldn’t quite get to him. Sighing a little, she shuffled towards the edge of the bed, too tired to want to get up but still wanting to reach him. Tilieth stretched farther, head half resting on the nightstand to give her more distance, and her fingers finally tickled Link’s ear.

Her son sniffled, nose scrunching, and she giggled at it. He didn’t quite wake up, but it was still wonderful to see him reacting. Yawning, Tilieth twisted in the blankets, facing the other way to see—

An empty bed.

Tilieth blinked, confused a moment, listening to crickets and birds compete for song as night and day intermingled at dawn.

And then she remembered last night.

Or, well, most of it. She remembered looking for Abel, she remembered seeing him down on the ground alongside Ama, she remembered waking up in this bed injured and Abel being on the verge of a breakdown. Based on the elixir on the table, she assumed she… ah, that must have been what he made her drink last night?

Great heavens, that stuff tasted horrible. She’d need to flavor it some way for poor Link.

But never mind that, where was Abel? She’d never gotten the full story out of him, and he’d said he’d sleep!

Groaning a little, Tilieth tried to wiggle out of the blanket, grumbling as she got tangled in it instead. Huffing, she threw her head back into her pillow in exasperation and then winced. Maybe she shouldn’t do that.

Tilieth moved slowly this time, pulling the blanket here, untwisting it there, until she was finally detangled and standing up. The world tilted a little, but not too terribly, and Tilieth rubbed her face tiredly as her body struggled to keep up. She was a little thankful she couldn’t remember whatever fight she and Abel must have endured that ended with her receiving such a head injury.

But then she remembered Abel’s expression, and she suddenly wondered if she really should feel that way.

Tilieth shuffled towards the entrance when the innkeeper, an elderly woman named Liyah, walked hesitantly towards her. “Hello, dear. That elixir on the nightstand is for you.”

Glancing back at the nightstand, Tilieth bit the inside of her cheek, not particularly interested in tasting that awful concoction again. But given how she felt, she supposed it was reasonable. She walked over to it, sitting on the bed to brace herself as she knocked back the liquid, coughing a little as it went down.

The world sharpened into a clarity so intense it almost made her head hurt. Warmth filled her all the way to her fingertips, and she felt a little more energized. She wondered if Link felt any of this when they gave him some the other day.

Details she hadn’t noticed before became easily apparent. She was wearing something different from her usual attire, a robe wrapped around her like the Sheikah wore, except overly simple in its design, beige in color with no variation in the collar. Her clothes and traveling pouch were missing.

“Have you seen my husband?” she asked the innkeeper.

“I’m afraid not,” the woman answered. “He hasn’t been here since you fell back asleep.”

Of course he hasn’t. Tilieth sighed heavily, a different kind of exhaustion pulling at her. She wished her husband would just listen to her and rest.

Bracing herself for a potentially unpleasant confrontation, Tilieth rose, kissed Link with a promise to feed him breakfast and clean him up soon, and went to seek out the Sheikah chief.

When she recognized that the world was bathed in pale light, she thought it might have been too early to pay a visit to the young woman. But Lady Impa herself was outside, sitting cross legged in front of the statue of Hylia.

Tilieth hesitated, not wanting to interrupt her prayer. Instead, she sat a little bit behind her, saying a few prayers of her own.

Good morning, she greeted a little informally, smiling, before she continued, Oh great goddess, I… I want to thank you. Thank you for taking care of Link, for helping him heal. Thank you for getting us to Kakariko. Thank you for helping me and Abel escape whatever happened last night. Please… I know Abel isn’t… isn’t really talking to you much, but… please look out for him. Please continue to look out for Link and help him heal. Please give me the patience, the energy, the words to get through to Abel so he can rest.

Tilieth took a deep breath, letting the world around her relax her and quiet her mind. She couldn’t quite achieve it, never really able to pray too well, but she felt a little more at peace nonetheless. Her eyes drifted to the water, watching it play and reflect the light as the sun steadily climbed in the sky. Perhaps she should just make some breakfast and bathe Link before bothering Impa – maybe she’d run into Abel in that time anyway.

Resolving herself to the matter, Tilieth rose, leaving Lady Impa to her prayers, when the Sheikah turned a little, just noticing her.

“Tilieth,” she called, standing, face a little worried.

Tilieth smiled at the kind woman. “I’m okay. I’m feeling much better this morning. I was just wondering… do you know where my husband is? Or my things?”

“Your clothes were being washed from the blood,” Lady Impa explained. “I apologize they haven’t been returned to you in time. I believe your pouch is with the Sheikah slate – Sir Abel left them near Link.”

Well, Tilieth supposed that explained a few things. She hadn’t searched too hard beside Link. But still… “And my husband?”

Lady Impa shifted uncomfortably, and the peace Tilieth had been feeling started to fade.

“He… has a message for you,” the Sheikah chief said slowly. “He said you were right. About splitting up. He asked me to protect you while he goes to Akkala. He said he was going to talk to my sister about the slate.”

Tilieth stared. He… he what?

He left?

But—what had happened to—they were going to go to the—and Link—he just—what?!

This wasn’t… this wasn’t just him agreeing to her plan, something was—something was wrong, something was terribly wrong, Abel had been so against this plan!

“What happened?” she asked, she demanded, she choked out of the horror and shock and fear that was squeezing her lungs. “What happened last night?”

Lady Impa’s expression grew more somber, more worried. “I… don’t honestly know. He never explained.”

Tilieth swallowed thickly, trying to think it through. Whatever it was, Abel blamed himself. She knew that. She knew that. There was no way the man would do something so completely—he—what—

“I need my clothes,” Tilieth said. “I need them now.”

Lady Impa hesitated a moment, and Tilieth frantically insisted, “I said now! Please! I need them!”

Urgency and terror were filling her and making the world spin. As the Sheikah complied, Tilieth dashed back to the inn, nearly sending the innkeeper into the ceiling with fright as she slammed the door open. Link had the Sheikah slate tucked under his arm in the blankets, alongside Tilieth’s pouch. She grabbed the slate immediately, looking at the map, desperate to see what route Abel might be taking.

How much headway had he gotten? When did he leave? Had he rested at all? What had happened? What had happened?

“Your clothes,” Lady Impa announced as she held them out, standing just behind her. Tilieth quickly rushed to the corner where a privacy screen was and changed, hastened out, slate in hand, and then froze, looking at Link.

He needed to eat. He needed to be cleaned. He needed to be cared for. She trusted the Sheikah, but she couldn’t ask everything of them, and they didn’t know what to do with him.

But Abel—

Tilieth reached into her pouch, looking for whatever leftover broth she had, and quickly shook Link. “I’m sorry, love, I’m so sorry, you’re going to have to endure a little longer without freshening up, but eat quickly, okay? I have to find your papa.”

Link drank, not seeming to care, as per usual, but once she laid him back down to rest, he continued to stare off at nothing, looking tired but not nodding off. She watched him a moment, a little caught off guard. Was he uncomfortable? He’d hardly noticed anything about his body since the initial shrines on the plateau, whether it was his wounds, the rashes from the harness, the jostling from going everywhere, any bodily needs he might have… anything.

Tilieth snapped her fingers in his face. Link blinked, but he didn’t really flinch from it.

When he still didn’t fall asleep, Tilieth hesitantly tried for more broth. He drank for a little while before starting to choke on it a little bit, and she immediately stopped.

Why was he…? She didn’t know. But she couldn’t wait any longer.

“Please be okay,” she pleaded, kissing him on the forehead. “I’ll be back soon, okay? Hopefully with your father.”

Hopefully. Oh goddess, Abel, what have you done?

Reaching for the slate, Tilieth looked at the map. She’d never been to the Akkala Province, but she knew it was up north, somewhere near Death Mountain. Based on the routes they’d already taken, the shrines they’d been to…

That shrine near Zora’s Domain. That would be her best bet. But what if he hadn’t gotten that far? What then?

Well. It was better to overshoot than undershoot, she supposed.

Wait! The towers! She could probably try to find him with the scope feature Impa had talked about!

With that in mind the only tower that was feasible for such a use was the Lanayru Tower.

Lady Impa stared. “What are you, HEY WAIT—”

Tilieth pressed on the screen, feeling the magic of the slate encircle her, but Lady Impa yelped, reaching out to grab her. Tilieth squealed in response, and both women nearly fell over as they were encased in light. The lightness of the magic carried them before they could actually topple over, plopping them on the hard, cold stone of Sheikah design.

The women groaned, trying to get their bearings, when cool water plopped on Tilieth’s head, startling her. It was drizzling here, but as she scrambled towards the edge, she found that her view wasn’t all that obscured.

“What just—where are—” Lady Impa stammered, looking around in bewilderment and fright.

“Why did you grab me?” Tilieth asked as she looked around, hands shakily maneuvering the slate so she could figure out how to use its scope.

“I swore to Sir Abel I’d protect you,” Lady Impa pointed out, looking around, disoriented. “I can’t do that if you try to disappear into thin air! Where even are we?”

“Lanayru Tower,” Tilieth answered quickly, only half paying attention. “How do you get this slate to—”

Lady Impa snatched it, clicking something, and suddenly the slate showed the world around it with heightened intensity and clarity, zooming in on different points. “I’m assuming we’re looking for Sir Abel?”

Tilieth squinted through the drizzle before looking at the slate as the two women huddled beside each other to stare at it. “Yes. I have to find him.”

Lady Impa sighed heavily.

“He can’t have gotten too far, right?” Tilieth wondered aloud, tracing the path from what she could see of the mountains around Kakariko. The road disappeared occasionally, but for the most part she could see nearly all of it. “When did he leave?”

“During the night. He…” Lady Impa shuffled hesitantly. “He definitely didn’t look well. But I knew I couldn’t stop him. I’m sorry, Tilieth.”

Tilieth bit her lip, anxiety eating her alive. Her worry for her husband increased tenfold. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t already suspected, but…

Please be okay, Abel. Please be okay.

She felt so incredibly alone all of a sudden. She was thankful Lady Impa had tagged along.

As Tilieth looked through the scope, she felt her heart leap to her throat.

There was a person! There was a person on a black horse at a destroyed bridge, staring at the river, trying to find a way to cross.

“Abel,” she whispered before looking frantically at the slate, trying to find a point that was closer to his current location. As she did so, she could vaguely see the figure turn his steed and start to canter away. No, no, no no no no!

“With Thims Bridge gone, he’ll probably try to head farther north,” Lady Impa said breathlessly, trying to track his progress as well. “Let me see—why is the rest of it blank?”

“We haven’t mapped it out!” Tilieth said frantically. “What if we lose him?!”

“I don’t remember exactly where the next crossing is, but I’m pretty sure it’s close to the castle,” the Sheikah chief noted anxiously. “He—Sir Abel knows that, right?”

The castle?!

“Wait, wait, he’s coming back,” Lady Impa interrupted her panicked thoughts, eyes wide and both women nearly headbutted each other to look through the scope. Abel had indeed turned around, seeming to come to the same conclusion, and was instead heading for a set of ruins that were overrun by monsters.

“We have to help him!” Lady Impa immediately said.

“Sheh Rata Shrine,” Tilieth pointed to it. “It’s close enough. Hold on!”

The pair disappeared in streams of light once more.

Meanwhile, in Moor Garrison, Abel circled the area, fire in his blood as he snarled at the horde of monsters that had taken residence in his fallen brothers-in-arms’ home. He eliminated one easily by letting Ama knock it over before he stabbed it. Then he leapt off his horse, climbing the ruined wall to peek over and aim a bomb arrow at the two archers who were keeping lookout. The explosion caught the attention of the rest of the monsters, and Abel descended upon them from above, slamming his sword down on them. There were four in total, though only three had managed to reach him quite yet, allowing him to dodge and weave around them well enough. His shield took a few hits, knocking him against the wall, but he ignored the screaming of his mind and muscles, instead letting all of his anger broil over and fuel him.

Abel swiped out just as a bokoblin tried to aim for his head, leaving an opening, and he killed it quickly. The other two fell in succession, though his sword broke clean in half with the final blow. He scrambled to switch weapons as the last bokoblin came running into sight, and the guardian sword was the only other one he had brought with him.

The beast fell in one blow.

Abel glanced at the bluish blade, huffing. He supposed it certainly was useful. His stomach twisted a little as he stared at it too long, its hue hauntingly familiar, and he sheathed it, exiting the structure and picking up what arrows and weapons he could find as he whistled for Ama. He heard her running up from behind him, and he glanced back to see her gaining ground quickly. Just as she got within reach, he tore across her path, hand on her chest to try to avoid startling her. He traced his hand alongside her until it gripped her saddle, and the moment of the sharp turn in conjunction with the horse’s speed allowed Abel to leap into the air and onto her back seamlessly.

They moved expediently. He knew the next crossover point he could take that didn’t require a bridge.

Well. It did later. But he remembered seeing the structures from Lanayru Tower. A monster encampment of its own making was tolerable enough. He just had to tear through it while he still had the strength to do so. Staying up for two nights hadn’t done him many favors, after all.

But he was determined. He would get to Akkala quickly. He would accomplish this. And he prayed Tilieth would resolve to go to the Gerudo Desert like she’d originally planned so that he wouldn’t be anywhere near her.

How could he be anywhere near her? After what he’d—what he’d—

Abel bit his tongue, urging Ama to run faster. She couldn’t go fast enough. He had to move. Killing more beasts would help.

A fair distance behind the former knight and his steed light coalesced into two figures, and Tilieth and Impa looked around wildly in search of the man.

“ABEL!” Tilieth yelled as she caught sight of him, rushing ahead. Lady Impa gasped and hurried to keep up, managing to catch up to her companion quickly as the two attempted to call the man’s attention.

She’d never run so fast in her life. She couldn’t even call out to her husband anymore with as breathless as she was, but she refused to slow down. She had to reach him.

She had to reach him.

The blood rushed through Abel’s ears. His breathing was in tandem with Ama’s, both panting with exertion, readying for battle.

Tilieth felt her body starting to give out. She growled, pushing harder, until she felt like her chest would burst if she kept going.

Abel drew his sword once more as Ama crossed the haphazard bridge into the monster camp. Tilieth fell to the ground, Lady Impa dropping on one knee at her side to check on her.

She couldn’t get to him.

Abel focused intently, blind and deaf to everything outside of the battle. But when his first quarry leapt out at him, his heart skipped a beat.

It was a Hylian.

The horror of the last twenty-four hours screamed through his head for an instant before he followed through on the move automatically. The Hylian was clearly moving to attack. His guardian blade pierced through the man’s defenses quickly.

Tilieth screamed in horror from the shore. Lady Impa stood quickly, drawing her kodachi to protect her charge. More Hylians appeared out of different hiding places in the encampment, bearing monster and Hyrulian weapons alike, as well as strange foreign blades that looked vaguely similar to Impa’s. Tilieth covered her mouth quickly to stop herself gasping, horrified as her husband moved to defend himself from the sudden ambush.

“Stay out of sight,” Impa hissed, running ahead to assist him. Tilieth didn’t dare protest, heart racing.

There were more enemies than Abel could count. Ama lended him some protection, but it put her at risk, and he had no armor for her. She kicked when one bandit got too close, sending him flying into the water. Abel leapt off her saddle at that point, letting her buck more without throwing him off balance. There wasn’t a lot of room to maneuver on these rickety pontoon bridges, and Abel nearly got knocked into the water from a blocked blow. He dug his sword into another enemy, ignoring the warmth of the blood that saturated his gloves, and kicked yet another away to create some distance. Ama neighed in distress, running a few paces ahead to get away from the pandemonium, distracting the former knight.

Maybe he wasn’t distracted from her. Maybe the sleep deprivation was just catching up. Either way, he moved too slowly, and next thing he knew fire seared through his left shoulder as one of the Hylians managed to sink his spear into him. Abel grabbed the handle of the spear quickly, jerking it out of the man’s grip and kicking him back. He moved his left arm to try and grip the wooden handle so he could chop most of it off with his sword, preventing it from impeding him, but he could hardly move his arm. He yelled out in pain instead, stumbling back, feeling his world spin as his left arm tingled and burned.

The Hylians parted ways a little, strangely, until Abel saw the cause of the ruckus. A Sheikah warrior—Lady Impa—charged in, knives at the ready, already bloodied from taking on an unseen opponent.

What was—but Tilieth—

Abel burst into motion quickly, frantic now, mind and body both reaching their limits as he fought desperately.

Tilieth watched, terrified, hiding behind some trees, praying over and over and over, begging for this to end.

The remainder of the Hylians fell or fled, but before there could be any kind of reprieve in the fighting, Abel swiped his sword threateningly towards Impa, making her yelp and leap back.

“You promised,” he hissed, stumbling, face flushed with both fury and anguish, a broken trust and hopeless, desperate, terrifying energy in his eyes. “You promised.”

“She’s safe, she’s safe!” Impa insisted.

Tilieth heard the words carry across the bridges, and she gasped, running in. “Abel!”

The world froze between the couple as they took the sight of each other in.

Abel felt indescribable pain and relief mixing in a dizzying whirlwind. Seeing Impa here alone had scared him enough, but seeing Tilieth in the midst of this bloodshed, so soon after she’d—after he’d—he couldn’t even finish the thought, the panic of last night still so present within him that seeing her made him nearly stumble backwards and fall into the water. Tilieth looked completely winded, beautiful curls a frizzy mess, brown eyes glassy, sweat stains saturating through her tunic. Abel ached to comfort her, and his arm twitched a moment, but his shoulder hurt so damn much, and he saw blood leaking around where the spear had entered, pulsating a little. His wife shouldn’t be here, this place was dangerous, he was dangerous, he couldn’t be trusted for anything with her or Link, he was terrified.

Tilieth felt utterly out of control, helplessly looking at her husband unraveling before her. He was exhausted, dark circles under his eyes practically passing for bruises, face pallid and sweaty, hair and clothes disheveled, torn, bloodied and filthy, breathing ragged. His green doublet was steadily staining red from his shoulder as he guarded it with his right hand, hovering just over the spear’s entry. She didn’t know what to say, what to do, she just wanted to hold him and make him rest and stop the entire world from hurting him and Link, to stop everything.

The dead Hylians around her made her shudder, hugging herself as she trembled. Impa knelt down, examining one of them, finger tracing a symbol that looked strangely like the Sheikah one.

Abel took another step away. “Go back to Kakariko.”

Tilieth shook her head, choking on her tears and worry. I won’t leave you! Tell me what’s wrong!

Her silence wasn’t helping, and she knew it. Abel usually would pick up on it, would recognize that she was overwhelmed and step in to take over, but this time he was the one who needed someone to step in, and she—

Tilieth gritted her teeth, swallowing hard, taking a step forward. If she couldn’t find her words, she could at least do something.

The movement made everything worse, though, as Abel took several steps away, eying Ama.

“What’s wrong?” she finally desperately burst out, voice raw and breaking. She started to cry, hesitating to step forward but wanting so desperately to do so. “Abel, what happened? Why did you leave me?”

“I—I didn’t—I—” Abel stammered, sounding hoarse. “Tilieth it’s my fault—”

She knew he blamed himself for her injury. “Honey, don’t you understand—”

“I’m the one who hurt you!” Abel yelled, continuing to step away, backing himself near into a corner like a terrified animal. “Til, don’t you—don’t you see, I—I set that hinox on a rampage on the plateau that led to the shrine’s destruction, I gave you that concussion – I can’t be near you two, I’m going to get you killed, I—”

He cut himself off, right hand snaking around the spearhead, entire body shaking.

Tilieth felt the blood drain out of her face, mind numbing at the words and pushing them aside as she saw what he was doing, what he was planning. “Abel, no—”

“Go back to Kakariko,” he said, his voice lower, growling, threatening. Go or I’ll pull it out.

Her world was spinning, and her fingers and toes were tingling with how shallow and quickly she was breathing. What had—

Her injury had been from… him? How?!

What had happened?!

He was slipping. Her husband was slipping, and she was suddenly terrified for him, terrified of him, and she hated everything about this.

This wasn’t the man she knew, the man she fell in love with and married.

But it is, her heart cried. It is, he’s buried in there, buried in fear and grief and hurt.

But how could she reach him if he wouldn’t let her?!

A risk popped in her mind. A prayer, a hope, a desperation, an insane idea, putting such a precious life on the line.

But that life was already on the line.

Tilieth said a prayer. She said a prayer over and over and over. She mustered up all the courage she could, she grappled with every ounce of spontaneous, fiery, daring energy she had within her.

And she rushed for him.

Abel froze for a heart stopping moment, giving her hope, his eyes widening. But the surprise was quickly supplanted by absolute terror, and he ripped the spearhead out with a desperate, pained cry.

Tilieth couldn’t even get a scream out of her throat at this point, but oh her heart did so as the blood poured, excessive in its flow, increasing and decreasing in pulsating rhythm, bright red and entirely too much.

Lady Impa was faster than Tilieth could ever be, tackling the man and slamming her hand on the wound. “What are you thinking?!”

Tilieth stumbled to a halt in front of the pair, falling to her knees, hands gripping her husband’s tunic desperately, tears falling, sobs scraping out of her. Abel watched her, eyebrows pinched together, looking so much like a scared child, crying, eyes begging and apologizing more than any words could ever convey.

“The slate!” Lady Impa hissed. “Get him back to Kakariko – Kollin can help him! I’ll get the horse.”

Tilieth quickly pulled it out, numb fingers fumbling to pull up the shrine in the village. She put pressure on the wound, garnering a whimper of pain from her husband, his hand reaching for hers. She expected a fight of some sort, she expected that he’d completely lost his senses at this point, but instead of pulling her off him, his hand simply rested over hers, weak and trying and failing to grip. Their eyes locked as she finally selected the right shrine, and for a heart stopping moment, the world froze all around them.

She could see her husband, young and shy, smiling at her with a little nod of his head as he visited Hateno with other soldiers. She could see the brave young man who marched off to his next assignment after their marriage, holding her so closely, telling her how much he loved her. She could see the relief on his face when he returned to see her after his multiple year mission to Zora’s Domain, the joy that radiated from him and their son as they finally got to see her healthy again. She remembered his whispers in their most intimate moments, the way he held her to comfort her through the years, his promises to keep her safe after the world fell apart and burned, his silent vigil at Link’s shrine.

Tilieth leaned in, kissing him as the Sheikah magic carried them away, her tears intermingling with his own, falling to his cheeks as they trailed through the dirt together, carrying the blood away. She didn’t notice as the world came back to life, as birdsong replaced the sound of the water, as sunlight warmed the chilly drizzle that had soaked both of them. Abel hiccuped against her, falling apart at the tenderness of her touch, whispering over and over until the words sank into Tilieth’s mind.

“I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry, Til. I love you, I love you, I love you—”

She found her voice. “You’re going to be okay, Abel. You’re going to be okay.”