#Brushed Gold Basin Taps

[infamous-light]

You Belong to Me Ch. 1

Alcina Dimitrescu x F! Reader

AO3: You Belong to Me

Summary: Lady Dimitrescu's obsession knows no bounds as she becomes increasingly possessive over you. Will you succumb to her dark embrace, or find a way to break free before it's too late?

Word Count: 3.4K

Warnings: Yandere, possessive/obsessive behavior, blood, aftermath depiction of violence

You woke up every morning to the faint glow of dawn filtering in through the small, frost-covered window of your cramped living space. The air was cool and still, carrying with it the subtle scent of weathered stone and aged wood. It was a far cry from the comfort of your former life, but you have long since resigned yourself to the harsh realities of servitude since you began living in Castle Dimitrescu three months ago.

With a weary sigh, you pushed yourself upright. The blanket slid away to reveal the simple cot that served as your bed. Rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you swung your legs over the edge of the bed and planted both feet onto the cold, unforgiving surface of the wooden floor. It made goosebumps travel across your arms.

Ignoring the slight chill in your bedroom for now, you walked over to a small dresser, and with a gentle tug, you pulled open the drawer, revealing an array of neatly folded uniforms within. You sift through the selection, your fingers grazing over soft cotton blouses, tailored trousers, and dresses. After thoughtful consideration, you settled on a plain white blouse paired with sleek black trousers.

Once dressed, you made your way over to where a small basin sat atop a stand, tucked away into the corner of your bedroom. Cupping your hands, you scooped up the frigid liquid and splashed it onto your face. As the droplets cascaded down your cheeks, you reached for a hand towel hanging nearby and patted your face dry. You turned your attention to your hair next and picked up an old hairbrush resting on the stand. As you ran it through your strands, you felt the satisfying tug of knots being smoothed out.

After combing your hair, you placed the hairbrush back down with a soft clink and grabbed your toothbrush and toothpaste tucked next to the basin. You applied a pea-sized amount of toothpaste onto the bristles and began to brush your teeth. Once two minutes have passed, you rinsed your mouth and toothbrush and placed it back on the stand. With a sense of cleanliness and readiness, you leave your bedroom, prepared to face the day ahead.

You walked down the hallway, the quiet tap of your shoes thumping lightly against the carpeted floors. The walls, painted a pristine white, were lined with gold accents that shimmered under the candles’ soft lighting. Alongside the decor, various paintings adorned the walls, depicting scenes of women dancing in sunlit fields or portraits of people.

The interior of the castle was beautiful, you could admit that, but beneath it all lurked the unsettling reality of torture and death. Behind closed doors, unseen horrors unfolded. All the maids lived in constant fear, their every move scrutinized, and their slightest mistake met with brutal punishment. The halls were haunted with their pained screams and whispered pleas for mercy.

The price of disobedience and the consequences of crossing the line drawn by Lady Dimitrescu and her daughters was one you wanted to avoid at all costs.

Eventually, you reached the supply room door and turned the handle. The hinges protested with a soft, familiar creak as you swung the door open. Inside, shelves were neatly stacked with cleaning supplies. Just as your hand reached out to grab the items you needed, you heard a familiar voice behind you say your name.

You turned around and a rush of warmth flooded through you as you realized it was Catalina. Since your arrival three months ago, Catalina had become your closest friend, an anchor, guiding your life through the horrors of this castle.

“Good morning.” Catalina greeted you with a warm smile, her chestnut brown hair cascading in gentle waves around her shoulders.

“Hey, good morning.” You replied, returning her smile.

“Are you ready for another grueling day?” She joked lightly, though her voice was tinged with exhaustion.

“Yeah,” you forced to maintain your smile despite the unease that gnawed at your insides. “But we’ll get through it like we always do.” You added, summoning a bit of reassurance for both you and Catalina.

The corners of her mouth downturned, forming a subtle frown as she spoke. “I wish I had your optimism right now. I have to help Maria clean up Miss Daniela’s bedroom,” she continued, her tone heavy with a sense of foreboding. “I dread what I’ll find in there.”

You grimaced in response.

Daniela was the youngest of Lady Dimitrescu’s daughters. She was known for her volatile and unpredictable nature. Her actions often left everyone on edge. At any given moment, Daniela's demeanor could shift like the wind, turning from saccharine to savage in the blink of an eye. It was best to avoid her completely when it came to the Lady’s three daughters.

“Well, I hope it’s nothing too bad.” You murmured.

“Me too,” Catalina said with a soft smile. “But I’ll see you later at lunch, okay?”

“Definitely. See you then.”

As Catalina left the supply room, you grabbed a bucket already filled with soapy water, a mop, and a couple of washcloths. With your supplies in hand, you made your way over to one of the hallways assigned to you. Upon reaching your destination, you carefully set your supplies down. The mop leaned against the wall while the bucket of cleaning solution sat nearby.

Taking a moment to survey the large window, you noted the thin layer of dust and grime obscuring the view beyond. Determined to restore its clarity, you dipped one of the washcloths into the water and wrung out the excess liquid soaking the fabric.

Positioning yourself at the first window, you finally got to work.

***

As you finished wiping down the last window, the midday sun shone high above the mountains, letting you know that it was nearing noon. Satisfied with your work, you gathered your cleaning supplies and began to make your way back to the supply room.

However, as you walked along, the silence of the castle was shattered by the sudden, blood-curdling scream of a woman. The chilling sound was quickly followed by a sickening gurgle. Dread washed over you like a wave as the implications of what you had just heard sank in. Without hesitation, you quickened your pace, clutching your supplies in a death grip as you hurried away from the source of the horrifying noise.

“You there, stop!”

A menacing voice cut through the air, and you halted in place. Every muscle in your body tensed as you recognized the commanding tone of Cassandra, the middle child of Lady Dimitrescu. Encountering Cassandra was an ordeal in and of itself. Though not as overtly unhinged as her youngest sibling Daniela, Cassandra's brand of cruelty was more insidious. Her actions were calculated, designed to inflict maximum suffering upon those unfortunate enough to cross her path. She was known to be the most sadistic among her sisters.

With a knot of apprehension tightening in your stomach, you slowly turned to face her, meeting her piercing gaze with trepidation. However, your attention was soon drawn elsewhere as you noticed something deeply disturbing: blood dripped from the edge of her sickle, staining the floor in dark, ominous droplets.

“Come here.” Cassandra drawled out, her voice dripping with mock sweetness. Her lips curved into a sly grin as she extended her index finger, beckoning you over.

Swallowing hard, you forced yourself to comply, your footsteps hesitant as you approached her. Her grin widened, a glint of amusement dancing in her eyes as you stepped closer, feeling the weight of her gaze upon you.

“Clean this mess up.” She said lowly as she inclined her head toward Lady Dimitrescu’s study room.

“Yes, Miss Cassandra.” You whispered obediently.

As you cautiously stepped past the door frame, a scene of horror greeted you. There, sprawled in the center of the room, lay the lifeless body of a maid. Her throat was gruesomely slashed, the wound jagged and brutal. A pool of blood spread like a sinister halo around her head, seeping into the cracks of the floorboards.

For a moment, you stood frozen in shock.

Time seemed to stand still as you struggled to comprehend the brutality of what lay before you. Your eyes were fixated on the lifeless form, unable to tear your gaze away. You had never encountered a dead body before. The sight was jarring, shocking you to your core.

You had seen the aftermath of violence before, heard the distant screams, and seen leftover blood etched into the fibers of the carpets, but never have you come face to face with death itself. This was different.

This was raw and real.

Your eyes briefly caught sight of a large key adorned with the Dimitrescu family crest, resting delicately next to her hand. Before you could ponder its significance, Cassandra's voice, smooth as silk but laced with an unsettling edge, whispered close to your left ear.

“Don't mind her,” she purred, her breath brushing against your earlobe like a cold breeze. “She had it coming.”

Startled, you gasped and instinctively stepped forward, desperate to get away from her.

Cassandra chuckled and stepped around you without a single care in the world. She bent over and retrieved the key, slipping it into the pocket of her dress. Then, in a chilling display of strength, she seized the young woman by the collar of her blouse, her grip unyielding as she dragged the limp body along with ease. And then, as if forgetting something, she paused, turning slowly to fix you with an unnerving gaze.

“Consider this a lesson. This is what happens to those who attempt to escape.” She remarked, her tone almost causal, as if discussing the weather. Her eyes then drifted toward the trail of blood that stained the floor. For a moment, her eyes lingered on the crimson mess before meeting your own again, a smirk playing on her lips. “You may want to hurry and clean this up before Mother makes an appearance.”

The implication of her statement hung heavy in the air.

“Yes, Miss Cassandra.”

As Cassandra finally departed the room, a surge of anguish threatened to engulf you, but you suppressed it. With trembling hands and a heart heavy with dread, you forced yourself to maintain composure, though every instinct screamed at you to turn and run.

There was no time to waste as you got started on cleaning the blood up.

Time seemed to warp and twist, stretching into an eternity as you meticulously cleaned every speck of blood off the floor. With each swipe of the mop, your hands shook uncontrollably, the memory of what had transpired haunting your every move. Every corner you scrubbed, every stain you erased, felt like an attempt to cleanse not just the physical space, but the sorrow that threatened to consume you from within.

Just as you thought you couldn't bear another moment of the suffocating silence, you heard it. The unmistakable sound of heavy high heels clicking through the hallway. Your heart almost leaped into your throat, but instead, pounded against your ribs like a caged animal desperate for escape.

The click-clack of her high heels came to a sudden stop.

A tense stillness settled in the air, thick and palpable, as you sensed her presence looming by the doorway. The hairs on the back of your neck prickled and stood on end, a primal instinct warning you of the danger that stood before you. But your eyes remained fixed on the floor, as if it held the key to your salvation.

And then, finally, she spoke, her voice like velvet. “Well, well, what do we have here?”

You found yourself momentarily stunned. You didn't know how to respond. Your mind raced, searching for the right words, but they never came. You had never spoken to her before, until today. So, you settled for her title instead.

“My Lady.” You managed to utter softly.

But there was only silence in response.

You shifted uneasily, unsure of what to do next. Was she waiting for something? Did you do something wrong?

With a hesitant glance upward, you found yourself locking eyes with Lady Dimitrescu.

Time seemed to slow to a crawl as you held her gaze, a sense of unease creeping over you like ivy winding its way around your limbs. There was something in the way she looked at you – a hunger, a thirst for something you couldn't quite name – that made your insides curl.

And then, just as suddenly as it had begun, the moment passed, and she offered you a knowing smirk – a flash of pearly white teeth that sent a chill down your spine.

Your pulse quickened as you watched Lady Dimitrescu walk past you, her tall figure casting a long shadow across the floor. But then she stopped, the sudden cessation of movement sending a jolt of fear through you. You could feel her presence hovering somewhere behind you, a suffocating weight that seemed to press down on your very soul.

“You missed a spot.” Lady Dimitrescu said but it sounded almost playful.

“I-I’m sorry, my Lady,” you stammered, your voice barely above a whisper. “I’ll get that cleaned up right away.”

Your heart hammered in your chest like a relentless drumbeat as you scrambled over to her. Kneeling beside her, your eyes caught a small spot of blood that you had missed, a tiny droplet that clung stubbornly to the floor. How was she even able to see that?

You pulled a handkerchief from your pocket, fingers fumbling slightly in their haste. With gentle precision, you began to clean the area, your movements slow and deliberate.

Finally, when the task was done, you gazed up at her, seeking some sign of reassurance. But what met your gaze was unnerving – a smile that sent shivers down your spine. It wasn't the smile of satisfaction you had expected. No, it was something far more sinister. Her lips curled upward, revealing a glimpse of something altogether different – a flash of fangs.

“You may go.” Lady Dimitrescu said, her voice carrying an eerie calmness.

“Thank you, my Lady.”

With a deep, respectful curtsy, you dared not linger any longer than necessary. As you hastily gathered your belongings, you could feel her eyes boring into the back of your head as you left her study.

You navigated the many hallways once more, each twist and turn blurring together seamlessly. Desperation clawed at you, urging you to put as much distance as possible between yourself and Lady Dimitrescu.

As you rounded another corner, a wave of exhaustion washed over you, both physically and mentally. Taking a moment to collect yourself, you breathed deeply, letting the tension melt away. But even as you tried to calm your racing heart, your mind couldn't shake the image of the way Lady Dimitrescu stared at you.

There was something off about it, something you couldn't quite put into words.

You hope you never find out.

***

The morning sun casts a soft golden glow through your window, signaling the start of a new day.

With a languid motion, you stretched your limbs and pushed the covers aside, swinging your legs over the edge of the bed. Rubbing your eyes, you let out a soft yawn and glance around the room, the familiar surroundings gradually coming into focus. Yet, something seemed out of place.

Your gaze drifted to the door of your bedroom. You frowned as you saw a small, folded piece of paper lying on the floor, just beneath the edge of the door.

Intrigued, you rose off the bed and padded your way across the room toward the note. You bent down and picked it up. Unfolding the paper, you found yourself staring at what appeared to be elegant handwriting scrawled across the page.

My dearest pet,

It has come to my attention that your talents are wasted on menial tasks. Therefore, it is with great pleasure, and without room for negotiation, that I hereby command you to assume the role of my personal servant from this day forth.

You shall attend to my every whim and desire with the utmost devotion. You will be at my beck and call, ready to serve me without question or hesitation.

You are expected to begin your shift at 9 A.M. in my bedchambers. Do not be late.

Yours faithfully,

Lady Alcina Dimitrescu

Blood froze in your veins.

As you read those words, an icy grip tightened around your heart.

Pet.

Being labeled as Lady Dimitrescu's “pet” made your stomach churn. At that moment, the room seemed to close in around you, suffocating you with its hold. You released the note from your trembling fingers, watching it flutter back to the floor.

None of this made any sense.

Lady Dimitrescu wasn’t known for keeping pets. The very idea seemed absurd, yet she called you one.

As if that wasn’t bad enough, she also wanted you to be her personal servant. That fact alone was terrifying. You were already forced to work in this castle but the prospect of serving directly under her? That was a whole other matter.

You stole a glance at an old clock perched on your dresser. It was 8 A.M. You knew you had little time left before you were expected to be in her bedchambers, ready to fulfill whatever tasks she demanded of you.

Many thoughts flittered around in your mind, swirling like leaves. Among them, one stuck out the most. The desire to escape burned within you like a flame refusing to be extinguished.

No.

The idea was foolish. It would surely get you killed. You have already seen what Cassandra did to that maid yesterday.

But what if you took your time to plot your escape?

Escaping the castle would not be easy. It would require cunning, stealth, and a plan so foolproof that even the Dimitrescu family would be caught off guard.

Despite the overwhelming odds stacked against you, you have to try. You refuse to live the rest of your life as some noblewoman’s pet.

Turning on your heel, you got dressed and left your bedroom. With each step, you couldn't shake the feeling of being watched, as though a pair of unseen eyes followed your every move. You glanced over your shoulder, half-expecting to catch a glimpse of someone lurking in the shadows, but the hallway remained empty. You quickened your pace until the sound of your name pierced through the stillness of the hallway.

Startled, you pivoted to find Catalina standing there. Her smile, usually bright and welcoming, faltered as she took in your demeanor. Concern etched across her features as she walked over to you, her hands settling gently on your shoulders. Her touch offered both comfort and support.

“Hey, is everything okay?” Her voice carried genuine worry. “I didn’t see you at lunch or dinner yesterday.”

You swallowed hard, your throat feeling dry and constricted.

“No, everything is not okay.” You managed to rasp out.

“What’s wrong?” Catalina's expression softened with empathy.

You hesitated, feeling the weight of Lady Dimitrescu’s words pressing down on you. But you needed to confide in someone, and she was the only person you trusted enough to share that information with.

“I received a note this morning from Lady Dimitrescu. She said that I’m to be her personal servant starting today.”

Catalina's reaction was immediate. A light gasp left her lips, and her hands, which had been resting reassuringly on your shoulders, fell away. The color drained from her face, leaving her complexion pallid as her lips pressed together in a thin line.

“I don’t know what to do.” Your voice quivered, tears beginning to well up in your eyes. “I’m scared.”

Catalina's brow furrowed as she sought to understand the situation.

“Why did she ask you to be her personal servant?” she asked, her tone gentle yet probing. “The grand chambermaid usually attends to the Lady’s needs.”

You reached up, delicately brushing away the tears that gathered in the corner of your eyes. “I’m not sure. She just said that my talents were wasted on menial tasks.”

There was a long pause as she absorbed your words.

“This is very unusual.” Catalina murmured; her voice laced with unease.

A queasy sensation crept up from the pit of your stomach, coiling like a serpent as you hesitated to tell Catalina how Lady Dimitrescu addressed you in her note as well. You were reluctant to say it out loud.

Pet.

You were no longer a person, but a possession.

[the-lonelybarricade]

Darling, Let's Run

Part IX: Tainted Love

Summary: A month after her sister mysteriously went missing, Feyre receives a letter instructing she leave the village immediately. And the letter's messenger? A curious black cat.

A sequel to They Are the Hunters, We Are the Foxes. While I recommend reading it first, it is not necessary. My contribution to @unofficialfeysandmonth2022 Day 19: Enemies

Read on AO3・Feysand Month Masterlist ・Series Masterlist

-

Previous Chapter・Next Chapter

“Feyre?” There was a soft knock on the washroom door. “Are you alright?”

No.

The faucet creaked under her grip, shutting off the running water. She stood over the basin, fingers cemented tightly to the edges, and willed herself to stop shaking. Plump droplets of water splattered against the porcelain. The tap, she told herself. The tap was dripping. When she glanced up at her reflection, her eyes were also red-rimmed, but she assured herself that was unrelated.

“Yes,” Feyre said with a small sniff, drying her face in the quilt. Angry splotches bloomed on her cheekbones, and she wasn’t sure how she would hide that from Rhysand. Or the faebane. “I’m fine, Tamlin. Just one moment, please.”

Her hair was a mess. It had been a while since she’d been able to run a brush through it, but the rug and Rhysand’s fingers hadn't helped. And—gods—she could still feel him between her legs.

A faerie. What would a faerie want with her?

Tamlin said he was dangerous, but if Rhysand had wanted to hurt her, he’d had every opportunity to do so. She’d fallen asleep atop his chest and listened to his heart beat in rhythm with her own, and she was meant to believe he was some vicious monster, the kind that tore humans to ribbons for sport?

She had run from him, and perhaps that had instilled some fun of the chase. Perhaps the teasing and the lying and the flirting was all a sadistic game of cat and mouse.

Feyre took her time changing into Tamlin’s clothes, pretending that as she stepped into the ill-fitting fabric, she was becoming someone else entirely. No longer Feyre Archeron, the poor village girl who’d fallen victim to the fae.

She pulled out that jar, embracing the cool glass in her palm. “Tamlin? Is faebane poisonous to humans as well?”

“Not at all,” he said. Even with the door shut, she could hear the frown in his voice.

Could he hear her, unsealing the jar? Feyre dipped a finger into the inky substance and, swallowing her trepidation, smeared a dab of it like a balm over her lips. She blended it into her skin until the color disappeared, then screwed the lid back on the jar and tucked it inside the folds of the quilt.

She bundled the soft fabric beneath her arm and gingerly unlatched the washroom door, revealing Tamlin hovering nervously on the other side. Feyre offered him a tight smile. “Thanks for your help, Tamlin. I’ll see you soon.”

As she passed, Tamlin reached for her arm, pausing Feyre in her step. “Be safe,” he cautioned. “And keep your wits. His tongue is sweet, but the words are riddled with lies.”

Feyre bit back the urge to lash at him—at anyone. He had no idea, none at all, how sweet Rhysand’s tongue was.

I am yours. Irrevocably.

She had to stop thinking of it, or she’d render herself a mess before she even made it to their bedroom door. Tamlin hadn’t been there to witness the look in Rhysand’s eyes as he had touched her like she was more priceless than gold.

She trudged out of Tamlin’s room without a second word, uncertain what she hated the thought of more. That the love she’d glimpsed in Rhysand’s eyes had been real and that she’d somehow earned the affection of a faerie. Or, that it had been faked and what she felt for him had been unrequited. She knew which one should bother her more, just as she knew which one felt like swallowing glass.

He was waiting for her in the room. Standing with preternatural stillness, in the exact spot she had left him. He was staring at the door with so much coiled energy, like he feared that if he moved, he would have launched himself across the hall and torn apart anything in his way.

Their eyes met. Rhys said nothing as his eyes searched her for any sign of injury. Then they fixed on her face, on her eyes. She watched him inhale deeply.

The fae had extraordinarily sharp senses, she’d once heard. If he was fae, could he smell her fear? Hear her heart speeding up in her chest?

He took a step toward her, then another. Feyre forced herself not to retreat as he came within reaching distance and, almost hesitantly, laid his palm against the side of her face. Her eyes fell shut at the tender caress of his thumb, sweeping across her cheekbones to catch a tear she hadn’t realized was falling.

“What’s wrong?” He murmured, like it pained him too. Rhys used his freehand to draw her closer, pressing his lips to her forehead. Her heart clenched. This close, she could hear the way the words scraped in his throat as he bit out, “Did Tamlin hurt you?”

“No,” she said immediately. She dropped the quilt to the floor, kicking it out of the way so she could fist her hands into his tunic. “He didn’t. I’m fine.”

Rhysand’s breath shuddered. “He told you something. Something about me, didn’t he? Feyre, I—”

“Don’t.” She said it before she could stop herself. Because looking into his eyes, she knew. Knew innately in a way that she couldn’t explain. That Tamlin was right, and that Rhysand was about to admit to her something that she didn’t want to hear. And stupidly—so stupidly—she thought she could just delay it a bit longer. Just pretend for a few more heartbreaking moments that nothing had changed between them. “Rhys…” She shut her eyes, used her grip on his tunic to tug him closer. “Please, just kiss me.”

And so he did.

With a whine in the back of his throat, Rhysand lifted Feyre by the hips and walked them backwards until her back hit the wall and his mouth found hers. He kissed her like he knew it would be the very last time, and she kissed him like she believed he was still hers.

“Feyre,” he whispered. Feyre,Feyre,Feyre.

Somewhere between every gasp and lick and murmured prayer, she swore he said other things, too. Things like I’m sorry. She wouldn’t ask him what he was sorry for—not yet. Now was the moment for carving him into her memory. The taste of whiskey and sweat and sex, the churning smell of citrus and sea salt that should have warned her he was so much deeper than the surface could ever reveal.

When his hands started to slip beneath Tamlin’s tunic, she still had enough sense to gasp, “Don’t rip this one.” She would need it later.

Rhys obliged, slipping it over her head instead. She could understand the desperation to feel his naked skin against her own. For the rest of her life, Feyre knew she would sit before fires and huddle under blankets forever chasing the warmth that she found right there, as he entered her again and they made love against a wooden wall.

They never even made it to the bed. By the time they fell asleep, they were curled in each other atop the fur rug. Warmed by their bodies and the still crackling fireplace. Feyre’s head laid against his broad chest, rising and falling with every heavy, even breath. She could hear his heart. It had slowed in his sleep, no longer in sync with her own.

Somewhere in the inn below, Feyre heard a clock strike the early morning hour. She slowly, carefully, detangled herself from Rhysand’s limbs. Every silent hunt through the forest had prepared her for this moment, for each precise step she took towards the quilt near the door. Careful to keep her weight distributed evenly, knowing that even the softest creak of a floorboard could likely wake a sleeping faerie.

She stared at him as she retrieved the jar of faebane. The fireplace held his form like a lover, its light adoring every slant and curve of his taut, muscular body. He looked so peaceful like this, cheekbones gilded from the glowing embers, brushed by his long eyelashes. And his ears—long, and elegantly pointed. A faerie. There wasn’t a doubt about it.

Taking a shaky breath, Feyre turned her eyes away from him in search of that knife. He had been wearing it when they’d been at breakfast that morning, but she couldn’t recall taking it off him when she’d torn off his clothes. Surely she would have remembered the sound of a knife dropping to the floor, but her mind had been admittedly occupied by Rhysand—which made it entirely untrustworthy in recollection.

“Looking for this?”

Feyre gasped, hand flying to her chest as she turned to find Rhysand awake. Not a sign of sleep in his bright, amused eyes from where he still lounged on the rug, propped up on a single elbow as he twirled her hunting knife tauntingly between his fingers.

“I thought your lips tasted a bit different, Feyre darling.” He clicked his tongue. “You already taste so perfect, it’s a shame you’d ruin it with faebane. An effective way of poisoning me, though.”

She swallowed. “You knew.”

“Clever thing. I’d kiss you even knowing it was to my death.”

Feyre’s hands tightened around the glass jar. Without the knife, surely it was useless? Her eyes darted towards the door, already calculating the steps between. How many seconds she’d need to escape.

“Why?” She asked, taking a careful step backward.

He leaned back like he didn’t even notice. “No one’s kiss is as lovely as yours, Feyre. It’d be a pleasant death.”

“No,” she said. “Why… why are you here. What does a faerie want with me?”

“What do I want with you?” He chuckled. “You’d get a shorter list asking me the inverse. I can promise that—”

Tamlin had said Rhysand liked to hear himself talk. There were only five steps between Feyre and the door and she figured it was as good a time as any to make her break. She pivoted sharply on her backfoot, sprinting towards the door. One moment, there was empty space, and the next there was Rhysand.

“—I can promise that I’m not here to hurt you,” he finished as though he’d never been interrupted, bracing himself comfortably against the only exit. He was spinning the tip of the knife casually on his pointer finger.

Feyre shrieked in frustration and snatched her hand towards it, not even caring if she cut her skin on the blade. Faster than her eyes could track, it was in his other hand. He flashed her a lazy smile. “You used to be so impressed by my magic tricks.”

“It doesn’t count if you use actual magic,” she sneered.

He leaned forward, close enough that their lips brushed and she was reminded that he was still naked. Despite everything, even her own self preservation, the sight and proximity of him was enough to warm her blood.

“Surely it should count for more?” He mused. “How many people do you know who can use magic?”

Feyre knew she should be stepping away from his thrall, maybe running towards the window or shouting for Tamlin. But she couldn’t resist snapping, “None. Only the fae use magic.”

“Precisely,” he purred.

“What do you want with me?”

“I have only ever been honest about what I want,” he said, feigning earnesty this time. “I want you, Feyre. Only you.”

“Why?” She asked. Desperately. Needing to understand.

“Because,” he growled, reaching for her now, grabbing her uninjured wrist that still held the faebane. “You’re my mate.”

Her body trembled. And she wasn’t certain it was in fear.

“What does that mean?”

“It means…” Rhysand pressed the hilt of the knife into her palm, trading it for the faebane. She watched, frozen, as he opened the lid and guided the blade into the poison. The glass jar shattered against the floor as he dropped it. Careless to everything but holding her gaze as he carried her wrist up to his throat and poised the knife against his skin, just like before. “It means I would let you kill me right now, Feyre. If that’s what you wanted.”

This was a trick. Another mind game.

The blade wobbled as Rhysand released his grip on Feyre’s wrist, giving her full control. As he had promised on the very first night she’d met him.

“You’re lying,” she whispered.

“I wish you wouldn’t,” he admitted, the first thing Feyre knew was entirely honest. Those violet eyes ensnared her, pleading with her to believe that it was all honest. “I would let you, though, Feyre. I would let you leave this room with my blood on your knife, and I would still love you.”

Love you. Love you. Love you—

“Mate,” she whispered. It pounded in her blood. Rhysand groaned, eyes falling shut for a moment as his head fell back against the wooden door, exposing more of his throat to her.

“My mate,” he repeated, causing the golden cord in her chest to pull.

Feyre stumbled backwards, blinking back the tears blurring her vision. She clutched the dagger desperately, pointing a shaky finger towards the door. “If you care about what I want, then let me go.”

She watched the light drain from his eyes. Somehow, she thought that was worse to him than if she had driven the knife through his chest. “Feyre—”

“Go,” she pleaded, raising the dagger if only so she could use the back of her good hand to smother a sob.

His teeth flashed in the first real anger she’d ever seen on his face. “Tamlin is fae, too,” he bit out. Then he vanished like smoke, leaving her with the dagger and the shattered glass and the weight of that accusation.

Feyre stepped carefully over the sharp fragments, not bothering to clean them up. She feared she’d see too much of herself in the broken pieces.

She fished out Tamlin’s tunic from the debris of what was once a nice, cozy lodging room. Her eyes found the window that she had idealistically left open, hoping her cat would return. Prick had likely been scared off by the fae, so now all that came through was the soft fall of snow. The first snow of the season. If she fled, she wouldn’t make it far enough to survive the cold.

Feyre didn’t flee. She walked across the hall to Tamlin’s room.

He answered after the second knock, eyes sweeping over her for any sign of injury. She could imagine that she was a sight to see. Shaking and choking back tears in her oversized tunic, hair still mussed from an evening of sex that he could probably smell on her.

“Is it done?” He asked grimly.

Feyre burst into tears. Stiff as he was, he still had enough pity in his heart to pull her in for a hug. The fae, it turned out, weren’t unfeeling creatures.

But in that moment, Feyre was.

She didn’t know how it worked—didn’t know if she was killing Tamlin by driving the dagger into his gut, or if it needed to be through the heart to kill. Feyre did know—or rather, she learned—that it could cause him to collapse to his knees, grunting as he clutched the weeping wound in his stomach. That it bought her enough time to snatch the pouch of coins off his bedside table and race, blindly, out the inn’s doors.

Did she have seconds, or hours? It didn’t matter.

There was a couchman sitting at the front of a carriage outside the front entrance—likely Tamlin’s, prepared before the sun even opened its eyes for whenever his Lord wished to embark. She tossed the coachmen the entire pouch, likely a grander fortune than he and Feyre would have ever hoped to have set their eyes on.

“Take me to Velaris,” she panted. “And it’s yours. All of it.”

It didn’t take a fool to measure her urgency and the amount of coin and put together precisely what had happened.

The coachman sat up with haste. “Get in. Now.”

Just as she was about to step on, a glint caught the corner of her eye. She pulled back, turning her head towards the darkened treeline. There, watching her from the brushes, was a pair of violet eyes reflecting back at her.

Relief numbed enough of her fear and heartache that she could afford a smile. “Prick,” she breathed. In the cold it took shape in front of her face. “I have been worried about you, stupid cat!” She glanced nervously towards the inn. “Come here,” she called. “Quickly!”

He stayed where he was, crouched in the shadow.

“I know,” she said soothingly. “I get it now. You were scared off by the fae, weren’t you?”

Not just Prick. Now that she thought about it, the forest near her cottage has gone silent because Rhysand had been there. And it explained why Prick had such a strong reaction to the faeries in the woods.

“It’s over,” she promised, holding out her arms. “Come with me to Velaris. Please. I don’t want to leave you behind.”

You’re all I have left, she nearly said. But it was a pathetic thing to admit to a cat.

Fortunately, she didn’t need to. The shadow of his lithe body slipped out of the bushes, darting over to her arms. Despite the snow crystals collecting in his fur, he was still warm to the touch, soothing some of the ice that had already settled back into her bones. She had missed the way he purred when she lifted him into her arms—so much that she refused to set him down after they stepped into the carriage. She held his small body against her chest, not fully certain who she was comforting as she stroked her fingers aimlessly through his fur.

“You should stop leaving,” she said to him, staring at the window as the inn slowly faded out of sight. “Bad things seem to happen to me when you’re gone.”

The cat didn’t say anything, though he did roll the back of his head against his chest, as if to reassure her that he wasn’t going anywhere.

They would be going to Velaris—together.

-

Previous Chapter・Next Chapter

[neep-neep-neep]

Auden had mentioned that Somaya's baby was expected that night. And that she would likely be called to help, and that if Frey did not see her in the morning when she came in to run her fingertip over the spines of the books like she was waking them, it meant the woman was yet in labor.

But Frey did find her. She was collecting plates and bowls from the table and stopped in her tracks, breath freezing in her chest. Auden was in her bed.

Frey had never seen Auden asleep while the sun was up. The woman had collapsed into the sheets after a night of midwifery.

"Fuck," Frey said under her breath. She went into stealth mode, setting the dishes down in the basin with stressed precision.

I was wondering how long it would take you to notice, quipped the stupid demon bracelet.

"You should have said something, asshole!" Frey hissed.

Wait, why was she talking? Auden was in the room! She turned and saw the woman shift beneath the coverlet, and her heart sank. She fucked everything up.

Minding the sound of the door, Frey slipped back into the library, and exhaled.

The peasant girl seems a light sleeper.

"Shut up," Frey walked over to a shelf, spying a sunset-colored tome she had left the night before. "Somaya's baby is healthy, or she wouldn't be here. It's a good sign."

It's a revolting spectacle.

"Oh fuck off. What does a stupid cuff know about the miracle of birth?"

You forget that I was present for yours?

Yes, Frey had forgotten. It also underscored how the demon had caused her, and so many others', suffering. She needed to find a way to torture him without harming her own skin, fast.

She hefted the book in the arm Cuff was marked on, and leafed through the pages with her left hand. It was a treatise on Visorian research.

"Maybe," Frey said, "Auden'll have one of her own someday."

And she won't care about you anymore? teased Cuff with venom. Like--what was it--that 'foster mother' you mentioned?

Frey ignored him, resting her knuckles against her cheek. "A little one that looks like her, a chubby healthy baby, and she'll let me pick them up and spin 'em around..."

The door creaked open and Frey's breath caught in her chest again. It was Auden, in her slip, rubbing one eye.

"Frey?'

"Fuck, I didn't mean to wake you up--

"Who are you speaking to?"

Frey had the feeling of one of those dreams where you realize there's no floor and start falling.

Magnificent, said Cuff.

"I--s-shit. Um. I. No," Frey inhaled and let the air out through her nostrils, turning to the woman. "I owe it to you not to lie. This...demon guy?" she tapped her right forearm. "Yeah he speaks to me in my mind."

Because that sounded normal.

Auden blinking at her, Cuff completely silent for once, and her mouth suddenly feeling dry.

"So no one else can hear him but he's kind of been talking to me the whole time, and it's annoying as shit."

Auden was looking at the gold markings that snaked around her wrist now.

Amazing, Cuff said, how you would jeopardize even a relationship you care for this much.

Frey shook him briefly but vigorously, and Auden brushed some errant strands from her face and looked up at Frey. "This must have been what drove the Tantas mad."

Frey's face was on fire. "G-Go back to sleep. You've had a long night."

"Susurrus speaking to you unbidden, Frey...I couldn't imagine the sacrifice..."

Tell her I help you. Tell her I've saved your life countless times.

"He's just an asshole," Frey said with a nervous laugh. "This gold prick can't drive me anywhere I haven't been already."

"You would say that," a smile appeared on Auden's lips.

"Seriously!" Frey took a couple of steps forward. "I've had worse internal monologues than him since I was like nine!"

This is meant to reassure the girl?

Auden failed to suppress a yawn. "You were--ah--experiencing things you never told any of us. We'll discuss it after I rest, Frey?"

"Sure."

Auden's hand raised, reaching out, and Frey lifted hers for Auden to grasp. She knew Auden would again express worry over her cold fingers, even just in the lines between her brows. Auden ran her thumb over Frey's knuckles and then let go, and let the door close again. Only once she'd left the room did Frey realize her heart was hammering.

Cuff said, You were saying she would let you hold her infant for you to then apply centrifugal force?

[gaps-between-stories]

Fic Preview

A sneak peek of my series Sweet Nothings, a verse filled with so so many babies!

“I can’t. I can’t do this,” Stede eventually whimpered, eyes screwing shut as he pressed deeper into the pillow.

Soon enough, though – too soon, really – Ed shifted down to the ground, settling his weight onto his good knee as he leaned forward. He reached out, brushing away the curl that fell onto Stede’s sweat sheened face.

“Yes you can,” he murmured, keeping his voice low and warm. Ed pulled their embraced hands closer to his chest, bending his head down to press a kiss to the back of Stede’s hand. He kept them there, nestled against his chest.

“You can do anything, love,” he encouraged, running his thumb along Stede’s temple to pull as much sweat as he could.

Stede’s brow furrowed. “I don’t know who – hmm – who you’re talking about because it’s certainly not me.”

Ed huffed a low laugh as he reached for the bowl of water set by the bedside. He squeezed the excess liquid out of the washcloth he found inside.

“Really? 'Cause you remind me a lot of my husband.” He ran the cool cloth down Stede’s arm, Stede shivering at the contact.

“You’re an awful lot like him. Beautiful, brave, bold — too much of that last one for his own good sometimes, I can tell you that. Half the time I’m pulling him out of fights even I wouldn’t pick. And I’m a dummy.”

“He sounds like a dummy,” Stede grumbled, rolling his eyes.

Ed swiped the washcloth over Stede’s forehead, down under his chin and across his chest. For all of his grumbling, Stede couldn’t hide the soft purr he let out at the cooling relief.

“Hey now, that’s my favorite guy you’re talking about,” Ed’s offense was only partially feigned. Stede’s instinctive self-deprecation had improved tremendously in recent years, but Ed still occasionally had to pull him out of his own vicious spirals.

“Oh no, he’s tricked – Christ – you, too!” He groaned, throwing his arm over his face as he worked through another contraction, the hand still holding Ed’s digging new crescents into his rough palm.

Ed paused their exchange to guide Stede through it. “Breathe,” he reminded, steadying his own breath with a deep inhale to demonstrate.

“God,” Stede hissed, trying (and failing) to mirror Ed as another wave hit. His face contorted in pain as he pulled his lips inward with his teeth. He let out another low whine.

“Easy, easy,” Ed murmured, bracing his free hand against the hospital bed for leverage to haul himself up off of the ground. He gingerly shook out his bad knee before shifting to sit on the edge of the bed.

“I don’t know about that mate,” he returned to their earlier tangent. “I’m not easily tricked. Master tactician up here.” Ed tapped his finger against his temple as he tossed the washcloth back into the basin.

“He’s a master of – ah – disguise and intrigue. Haven’t you heard? He lures beautiful rugged leather pants-wearing men in with his siren call to trick them out of their boats and – shit – gold.”

“Oh good, you two have met.”

“Shut up.”

[designinspirationsme]

THE MIDAS TOUCH

USING GOLD AND BRASS IN YOUR BEAUTIFUL BATHROOM

As we weave our way through 2019, adding the Midas touch to bathrooms continues to remain a popular choice. Implementing this look with taps, tiles and shower enclosures; the gold finger has touched every aspect of bathrooms. Allowing designers and homeowners to achieve a coherent use of this special finish.

Ask any bathroom designer and they will tell you the biggest bug-bear when using a special finish; that is, anything other than standard chrome –  is the difficulty in sourcing products that allow a particular finish to be carried through from taps, showers to radiators – and even when that is possible, it’s tricky to match the smaller bathroom components that also require the finish. Such as flush buttons, basin & bath wastes, bottle traps, accessories etc. There are many components to a bathroom that, as a designer, we must bear in mind when suggesting the use of gold, brass or any other special finish.

Thankfully, due to the rise in popularity of the gold and brass trend, these products are now available. Allowing luxury bathroom suppliers to create amazing and beautiful designs for our clients. Here are just some of our favourite products with the Midas touch that we have been creating here at Bathroom Eleven – feel free to ask us how to achieve this look in your bathroom with an initial consultation with one of our Design Team!

BRASSWARE

As showcased in our above project, we used one of our favourite brands – VADO, adding a warm glow to this neutral white/grey palette. The depth of the gold characteristics lifts the whole room adding opulence and emanating warmth with a classic/contemporary twist. Whilst the roundness in shape across all the brass-ware softness the squarer shaker style vanity.

Whether you’re looking to make your room a chic contemporary hotel en-suite or a lavish classical boutique; there are many offerings in shape and style to complement any design. As designers, we will walk you through the options.

Axor, another one of our favourite brass-ware brands gives an edgier look to bathrooms. So, if you’re looking for something a bit more unique in design the angular style of the Citterio E is a perfect choice.

The final consideration when choosing brass-ware, is to understand what exact blend, colour and finish is required to achieve your desired outcome. It isn’t as simple as choosing gold, brass or rose; there are other considerations such as deciding on a polished or brushed finish. Additionally, you need to deliberate whether your bathroom needs a yellow gold or a slightly less bright brass feel; in which case perhaps a red gold option would work better in your design – particularly if your desired tiles require a richer heat than the yellow of gold or brass offers.

BATHS AND SHOWERS

Although it may seem like there aren’t many considerations when it comes to your bath or shower, it can be the little details, such as bath grips or shower enclosure handles that are predominately in chrome that clash against the golden elements in your bathroom.

These may seem minor details but they do make a huge difference to the completed look and as designers, they are at the forefront of our mind. By using brands such as Bette with bath grips available in white or brands such as VADO and AXOR that offer us brass and gold finishes on bath wastes/plugs, we can ensure that even the finer details are in the right finish.

When it comes to your shower enclosure or walk in panel, there is a perfect opportunity to capture the elegance of the gold and brass finishes. Through our favoured brands of Matki and The Shower Lab, we can create entire enclosures in gold and brass.

From standard enclosures to bespoke creations, we can design the perfect gold effect shower for your beautiful new bathroom. With the potential for it to be a focal point of your room; the shower enclosure, whatever the shape or size, can be detailed with gold trim adding a luxurious and bespoke bathroom to fulfil the potential of your room and functionality required.

ACCESSORIES

It’s often the smaller items that can be overlooked in bathrooms. You don’t want to be stuck with a chrome towel ring next to your glowing new golden brass-ware. Luckily, through our already aforementioned brands, we can achieve these smaller items in the exact same finish as your beautiful new taps and shower valves. Even your lights can be brought into the same colour scheme using our brands at Bathroom Eleven:

RADIATORS AND HEATING

The towel radiator is another item usually overlooked. However, this essential and practical piece of bathroom paraphernalia can help to accentuate your design. Our brands; Bisque and Zehnder offer many finishes from the usual chrome to bespoke finishes from anthracite to gold and brass. As well as a vast range of styles, which give us the opportunity to add the Midas touch to either classic, traditional or contemporary designs.

TILES

The choices are endless when it comes to tiles. This is often the most worrisome part for our clients as tiles can completely change the feel of a design. There are two avenues of thought to consider when choosing the look. You can either accentuate the golden elements with further gold patterns within your tiles or add a contrast with the tiles and make those gold elements spark!

A trend we are seeing amongst our clients are the use of a more understated pattern and tone; this is often captured using marble. The notable feature with the range of tiles our suppliers at Porcelanosa and Minoli offer us, is the ability to offer two tones to the design table. We have the more traditional and widely known silver/grey character to marble. Or, add warmth to your wall coverings with a softer vein to the marble pattern. See below:

The other option is to go bold and introduce definite elements of gold into a mosaic such as the striking Marvel range below:

The wonderful thing about this mosaic, is it can be used in classical designs due to its textures and tones. However, it sits just as comfortably in modern and contemporary designs too; due to its geometric patterns which offers the angled lines complementing the shapes available in modern styles.

Your final option, as mentioned earlier in this blog, is to go for contrast. A stark difference behind your gold taps, valves and shower enclosure etc, can make the gold pop adding that wow-factor that will enhance any bathroom design.

THE MIDAS TOUCH

If you’re looking to add the Midas touch to your bathroom – however big or small the space, get in touch with our Design team. We’ll take you through each step of the process at our luxury showroom and help you to achieve the bathroom of your dreams.

[designedtofigureitout]

Bathroom Design - Pink Cottage

If instagram made a bathroom maybe.

Onyx pink polished 60x120 wall tiles.

Small brickslip feature tiles.

Rak Cappuccino wall hung pan and flush plate.

Pink wall hung unit with white ceramic basin.

Crosswater polished bright gold shower and radiator.

Gold taps, shower head, handset and thermostatic shower valve.

Gold HIB towel rail, toilet brush holder and toilet roll accessory.

Hib bluetooth built-in mirror with toothbrush and phone charger.

[mimicocoaus]

Revamp Your Space with Modern and Stylish Tapware Solutions

If you're looking to give your space a fresh and contemporary update, one area to focus on is your tapware. Tapware not only serves a functional purpose but also adds a touch of style and elegance to any room. In this blog post, we will explore how modern and stylish tapware online solutions can revamp your space and elevate its overall aesthetic. From sleek and minimalist designs to bold and statement-making options, there's a tapware solution to suit every taste and preference.

Let's dive in and discover the possibilities of transforming your space through tapware.

Embrace Minimalism:

In recent years, minimalistic design has gained popularity, and tapware manufacturers have taken notice. Modern tapware designs often feature clean lines, simple shapes, and a streamlined profile. Opt for taps and mixers with a minimalist aesthetic, such as slim handles and spouts. This sleek and understated look adds a touch of elegance and sophistication to any space, blending seamlessly with a minimalist decor style.

Go Bold with Black:

For those seeking a more daring and dramatic look, black tapware is a trend to consider. Black taps and mixers make a bold statement and create a striking visual contrast against light-coloured basins or countertops. Whether it's a matte or gloss finish, black tapware adds a touch of modernity and sophistication to any space. Pair it with complementary black fixtures and accessories for a cohesive and contemporary look.

Opt for Brushed Metal Finishes:

If you prefer a softer and more subtle look, consider Buy Bathroom Tapware Online with brushed metal finishes. These finishes, such as brushed nickel or brushed brass, add warmth and texture to your space. The brushed texture also helps to minimise fingerprints and water spots, making them easier to maintain. Whether your style is modern or traditional, brushed metal tapware can effortlessly elevate the overall aesthetic of your room.

Explore Unique Shapes and Designs:

Tapware is no longer limited to traditional, standard designs. Manufacturers now offer a wide range of unique shapes and designs to cater to individual tastes. From geometric-inspired taps to curved and organic forms, there's a tapware option for every style preference. By selecting tapware with distinctive shapes and designs, you can make a statement and transform your space into a visually captivating environment.

Consider Sensor-Activated Tapware:

Incorporating technology into your tapware can enhance both the functionality and style of your space. Sensor-activated tapware eliminates the need for manual operation, improving hygiene and efficiency. The clean and minimalist design of sensor-activated taps adds a futuristic touch to any space. With a simple wave of your hand, water flows effortlessly, providing a seamless and convenient experience.

Mix and Match Finishes:

Unleash your creativity by mixing and matching different tapware finishes in your space. Combining finishes like chrome, gold, and rose gold can create a unique and personalised look. For example, pair a chrome tap with matte black handles or combine rose gold spouts with brushed nickel mixers. Mixing and matching tapware finishes allows you to customise your space and add visual interest.

Upgrade Your Shower Experience:

Don't forget about tapware when revamping your shower area. Upgrading your showerheads and mixer taps can transform your everyday shower experience into a spa-like indulgence. Consider rainfall showerheads for a luxurious and relaxing shower or multi-function showerheads for added versatility. Pair them with stylish and modern mixer taps to complete the look and elevate the overall aesthetic of your bathroom.

Conclusion:

Tapware is an essential element in any space and has the power to transform the overall look and feel of a room. Whether you prefer minimalistic designs, bold and statement-making options, or a mix of finishes, there's tapware online to suit every style and taste. By selecting modern and stylish tapware solutions, you can revamp your space and create a visually stunning environment that reflects your style.

 So go ahead, explore the possibilities, and elevate your space with the perfect tapware.

[zdfaucet]

Modern Comfort in Your Bathroom: The Convenience of Bidet Faucets

Bidet faucets not only offer functional benefits but also contribute to the overall design and aesthetics of your bathroom. Here are some stylish options with bidet faucets that can elevate your bathroom design:

Modern and Minimalist: If you prefer a clean and contemporary look, opt for a bidet faucet with sleek lines and a minimalist design. Choose a faucet with a slim profile, straight angles, and a polished chrome or brushed nickel finish. This modern style blends seamlessly with modern bathroom decor and creates a sleek and sophisticated appearance.

Traditional Elegance: For a more classic and elegant bathroom design, consider a bidet faucet with a traditional style. Look for faucets with curved handles, ornate details, and a bronze or brass finish. These faucets can add a touch of timeless elegance and create a luxurious atmosphere in your bathroom.

Sleek and Streamlined: Bidet faucets with a sleek and streamlined design offer a contemporary and futuristic look. Look for faucets with a slim profile, smooth surfaces, and a matte black or brushed stainless steel finish. This style adds a touch of modern sophistication and creates a visually striking focal point in your bathroom.

Vintage Charm: If you want to infuse your bathroom with a vintage or retro vibe, choose a bidet faucet with vintage-inspired design elements. Look for faucets with cross handles, intricate detailing, and an antique brass or oil-rubbed bronze finish. These faucets can add character and charm to your bathroom, reminiscent of classic design eras.

Unique Shapes and Finishes: To make a bold design statement, opt for bidet faucets with unique shapes and finishes. Explore faucets with unconventional forms, geometric patterns, or unusual finishes like gold, rose gold, or matte colors. These distinctive options can add a sense of individuality and creativity to your bathroom design.

Contemporary Luxury: Bidet faucets with luxurious features and finishes can create a spa-like ambiance in your bathroom. Look for faucets with features like LED lighting, touchless operation, or integrated temperature control. These high-end faucets with premium finishes like polished gold or polished nickel can bring a sense of opulence and indulgence to your space.

Customizable Options: Some manufacturers offer customizable bidet faucets that allow you to select different handle styles, finishes, and materials. This enables you to tailor the faucet to your specific design preferences and coordinate it with other bathroom fixtures. Customizable options provide flexibility and ensure that your bidet faucet seamlessly integrates into your overall bathroom design.

When choosing a bidet faucet, consider the overall design theme and style of your bathroom. Look for faucets that complement your existing fixtures, such as the sink faucet and shower hardware. By selecting a bidet faucet that aligns with your desired aesthetic, you can create a cohesive and visually appealing bathroom design that showcases both functionality and style.

[alissanewton]

How to take out Kitchen Faucet Plastic material Mounting Nuts

There are two ways to be able to remove gold kitchen faucet plastic mounting crazy: using a wrench tool and drilling. Using a wrench, you may unscrew the enthusiast manually ,. You can also use a new basin wrench to be able to loosen the nut. Then, you may use penetrating essential oil or a screwdriver to eliminate the nut.

Need the flathead electric screwdriver

A flathead electric screwdriver is ideal for removing mounting peanuts from faucets, nevertheless a hammer may well be necessary if you're dealing using an old faucet. Help make sure to hold the screwdriver at a good angle to prevent harmful the nut. Outdated faucets could have vitamin deposits that produce it hard to traction the nut. Dabbing the screwdriver throughout the nut's surface area can break the particular layer.

Use a center strike

You can also use a center punch to wash the nut's strings. If the fanatic has rust, some sort of wire brush may be necessary. When there are bright lime deposits, a solution of white white vinegar might help. The vinegar will dissolve the particular deposits. When typically the nut is free of charge from rust, you could spray the threads with penetrating lubricate. You should let the oil stay for several a few minutes prior to deciding to try once more.

You can also try a stubby screwdriver. If your sink has a nut with a new plastic coat, that may be tougher to remove. Even so, a bit heat can help to loosen them. A very hot towel or the ice pack doubles to help release the plastic mount.

Remove plastic installing nuts

One other way to get rid of plastic mounting nut products from faucets is always to heat the insane. A hairdryer will help to soften the plastic-type material, but be positive to wait a couple of minutes before tapping or perhaps twisting the fanatic. A WD-40 option would be also useful, but it's important to be able to remember that it may scratch the surface area of the sink.

In a few cases, a calcium-based calcium-binding solution can easily loosen the enthusiast. Use WD-40 about the nut if you fail to use a basin wrench. Remember that many lubricants and penetrating oils could be flammable, thus avoid using them near hot water. Also, remember that you must clean typically the area with a clean cloth right after applying lubricant. In case the nut will not come loose, you may want to use a hacksaw to take out it.

Turn off the water supply

On the other hand, you can work with a basin wrench to eliminate the plastic mounting nuts. These can be bought in the home Depot or other retailers. They can cost anywhere from $15 to $100, depending about the quality. However, you should be sure you shut off the particular water supply primary before you begin disassembling the faucet.

You need to also make certain that the brand new faucet has the equal number of gaps since the old one particular. Be sure to have just about all of the tools and materials you need to successfully complete this specific job. This need to take an hour or so or less.

[bathroomsaustpek]

Tall Basin Mixer Taps

[lune-hime]

Exposed (Sidon x f!Reader)

The ornate silver neck piece made contact with the tiled floor with a satisfying clank. With each clasp undone, Sidon felt his body buzzing at the newfound lightness. The metallic chime of his final piece of garment, his left bracelet, was a beautiful sound that echoed off the vast pillared walls of his chambers. Although it already had been a day since his arrival, his muscles still ached with a dull tightness brought onto him from the journey to Hyrule Castle. A subtle form of tiredness akin to jetlag was quickly draining his energy and he could not wait to submerge himself in the ample pool that laid before him.

Sidon padded to the edge of the water, streaks of ivory moonlight passing over his crimson scales. He kneeled down, wincing as he heard a few of his bones crack, and dipped an experimental hand into the basin. The warmth of the liquid sent a shiver up Sidon’s body and he immediately slid into the water in one fluid movement. The castle maids had prepared his pool with warm water, per your request, to the exact temperature you knew he liked it. Although this was just one of the many guest rooms in the immense castle, he felt your homey presence in every corner of the chamber. It made his heart flutter in adoration.

Sinking lower, he let the water engulf his shoulders. The tension diffused out and a supple moan escaped his parted lips. Lightly treading water, his thoughts circulated through his mind much like the gentle current of the pool. The officials and champions he had rekindled with today, what was he going to eat tomorrow morning, how radiant you had looked in your formal w-

“Prince Sidon, I forgot to ask you on more question before you retired to the room!” Zelda’s melodic voice carried from the hallway. Her small but sturdy frame emerged from behind the towering door, the hem of her gown swaying about her ankles as she danced her way into the entryway. Soon after she appeared, your head peeked its way around the frame.

Perhaps it was the abruptness of the entry, the intimate solitude of the chambers, his discarded garments, or all factors combined, but Sidon suddenly felt hot. Uncomfortably hot; and not from the water.

“A-ah, yes Princess, what did you want to, ah, ask me?” He coughed, awkwardly sinking lower into the pool. He cursed the palace for having such crystal clear water.

Your brow knit into a firm line at his flustered state. Never before had you seen him act like this seemingly for no reason. When his eyes began flicking anxiously from the pile of metal to you, a wave of understanding flooded your consciousness. Sidon felt exposed. And he was embarrassed about it.

It was natural for Hylian habits to rub off on him since the two of you had started courting. When you were in the Domain, the only time you spent away from the Prince was when you were working on Vah Ruta or the one to two hours of his council meetings. With all that contact how could a few things not start to be ingrained in Sidon’s daily routine? It was clear now by the steady reddening of his cheeks that one of those habits pertained to wearing garments. Or more specifically, when one is caught not wearing them.

“Oh, is this a bad time?” She blinked, unclear of what had him acting so strangely. Sidon looked like he was about to expire in the cloud of uncomfortableness that was circling above the pool. As adorable as he looked, shuffling bashfully and avidly studying the carvings on the nearest pillar, you needed to save him. Biting back your laughter you tapped Zelda lightly on the shoulder. Her head whipped around, confusion still inscribed on her face.

“Zelda, it appears that Sidon was not expecting company this late at night.” You stated, giving her a knowing look you prayed she would pick up on. You cocked your head subtly towards the armor and Zelda gasped softly, the tips of her pointed ears running rosy. She then looked to the Prince with panic written all over her features and he returned the expression tenfold. The two of them turned from mimicking rose petals to beats instead, only making the aroma of the room more thick with tension.

“Oh my goodness! My deepest apologies, Sidon. I didn’t realize you were having, ahem, some alone time.” She cleared her throat and dropped her gaze to the floor so fast you wondered if she got whiplash.

“Well, Y/N can just tell me your answer tomorrow morning. Until then.” She stuttered, abruptly turning on her heels and disappearing behind the door. Once the brisk click signaled her departure, every muscle, tendon, and scale in Sidon’s body went lax. He sighed, tipping his head back against the edge of the pool with a gentle clunk. You took a moment to drown in his appearance. He was like a slightly wilted lotus flower with coral petals basking in the rippling droplets of indigo moonlight.

It now physically hurt to restrain your hysterics and you suddenly burst into a fit of giggles, drowning the luminated room in a symphony of laughs not unlike a songbird’s. Sidon poked one eye open and shook his head in mortified distress, still lazily leaning against the tiled rim.  

“Stop laughing, Y/N. I bet she thinks I was doing something lewd or weird. In her castle of all places.” He grumbled, raising his hands out of the water to run them over his face.

Once you had reigned in your cacophony you padded over to the pool and sat down next to his deflated form, feet dangling into the water.

“Nah. It’s okay, Si. She’s my oldest and best friend. If she does I’ll tell her the truth.” You nudged him playfully. He lolled his head to the side in your direction.

“That might be even more embarrassing…” Sidon trailed off, his face contorted into a slight grimace. You returned it with a fond smile.

“Stop looking at me like that.” He huffed, a feigned pout forming on his features. The rosiness on his cheeks bloomed once more as he lightly splashed your feet where they embraced the water’s surface.

“You know, you used to never be embarrassed about being seen without your accessories.” You stated innocently, eyeing him to observe his reaction.“They don’t really leave anything to the imagination, anyway.”

“Hylian customs are rubbing off on me, I guess.” He replied in a small voice, snaking an arm around your calf to press himself into your side. He started idly playing with your toes, offering a squeak from you. You lightly kicked out, hoping to shake him off. Instead he only scooted closer yet he resigned from his tickling.

“What did the Princess want to ask me?” Sidon inquired. He seemed to be mostly recovered from the ordeal.

“She wanted to know what you wanted for breakfast tomorrow. You left before she could put in an order for the chef.”

“Damn, that’s an important question.” He muttered, setting his chin on your knee and looking up at you with anticipation, his eyes large and blinking.  

“I was planning on telling her smoked salmon.” You informed the prince, giving his caudal fin a loving stroke. Sidon’s eyes lit up, his saffron orbs turning a brilliant gold that put the calming hue of the starlight to shame. He could feel himself start to salivate at the mention of the Hylian delicacy.

“Don’t drool on my leg.” You teased, chuckling as he gulped audibly. You were unable to convey your thoughts on the dish as the deep chiming of the castle’s clocktower replaced whatever voice you would have spoken. The twelve bells signaled it had just turned midnight.

“It’s late, we should both get some rest. We need to wake up early for the festivities tomorrow.” You let out a bittersweet sigh, not wanting to break away from the closeness you shared but knowing you would be the walking dead in the morning if you stayed up any longer. As you rose to your feet, Sidon’s head limply fell into the water, his gaze never leaving your form. Just as you were about to deliver a sweet goodnight, he gingerly grabbed your ankle.

“Please stay, my pearl.” He suggested, a gentle plea that caused your heart to skip a beat.

“Can’t get enough of me, hm?” You sang.

“A very true statement, darling.” Sidon cooed, the warmth radiating from his gaze brushing the tips of your ears and leaving a blushed residue in its wake.

“Alright.” You responded through a yawn.

“We can go back to your chambers, if you’d like.” Sidon suggested, releasing his hold on your ankle and making a move to leave the basin. You shook your head and held a hand out to stop him. He halted his movements immediately and blinked up at you.

“You’re soaked. You’ll get my bed wet. I will go get some blankets and return.” You chuckled as you strode towards the doors. He hummed in agreement, a breathy laugh puffing from his chest. Grasping the knob, you turned to face Sidon once more.

“Better keep an eye on this door, my prince. Wouldn’t want someone to see you so exposed now would we?” You warned, tone velvety and blithe. The last thing you heard before you skittered out of the room was a loud groan and the sound of an unlit candle being halfheartedly thrown at the door.

[lazywonderlvnd]

if you are indeed still taking prompts... i would literally adore genuinely anything else u wrote involving herbology prof draco icb i never considered it before but now i’m obsessed

god same 😩👌op rly said here’s what yall are missing!!! here’s a little drabble for u (until i get herbology prof draco in another actual fic) that’s a bit of a prequel to utterly yours. enjoy bby ❤️

It’s been almost two years since he’s visited Hogwarts. He doesn’t generally let it go that long — at least once or twice every year Harry usually makes a point of it, to see McGonagall and Flitwick and Dumbledore’s portrait, to walk the corridors and engorge himself on the familiarities, to find an inner peace, like he’s visiting a spiritual temple rather than his old school. Well, it certainly feels spiritual to him, anyway.

The reason he’s here now, though, isn’t a personal visit but rather a last resort. He’s been through the Ministry’s substantial library what feels like a thousand times looking for information pertaining to a case, but he’s found nothing. It had been Hermione to suggest trying the Hogwarts library, which had been hysterical until he realised it wasn’t a bad idea.

And he’ll get there eventually — to the library. But it’s been two years and as soon as Harry sets foot inside he’s overcome with a strong desire to wander around first. McGonagall, who had personally escorted him from the gates to the front doors, leaves him with a last “Good to see you, Potter” before hurrying away to a meeting. 

An hour later he’s thoroughly made his way through most of the castle and gone out to see the pitch, thinking of stopping by the greenhouses before he goes to the library to get down to business. 

As he nears them a bell goes off inside the castle signalling the end of the lesson and he sees a large group of mixed Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors coming out of greenhouse three. He’d never been terribly close to Professor Sprout but he thinks he may as well say hello while he’s here. 

The kids stare at him unashamedly as they pass but no one engages him, for which he’s grateful. When they’re all heading back up towards the castle he slips inside the greenhouse, immediately assaulted by the distinct, earthy smell he associates with Herbology, everything taking on a greenish-gold hue he finds extremely pleasant.

He moves through the greenhouse slowly, careful not to touch anything even as he admires a few large flowers in a shade of impossibly bright blue and something that looks like a cactus except that it’s swaying ominously.

He finally sees a head as he’s nearing the back, partially obscured behind a tangle of leaves. Confusion grips him instantly; he’s got no idea who it is, just that it’s definitely not dumpy little Professor Sprout. The white blond hair — turned golden in the sunlight streaming in through the glass — looks awfully familiar, but it can’t be —

But it is. Malfoy turns a little, just enough so Harry can see part of his face, and when Harry catches sight of a smudge of dirt on his cheek he suddenly can’t look away from it.

It’s the most un-Malfoy thing he can imagine, that bit of dirt. He’s wearing gloves but Harry can see some dirt on his elbow too, just below where he has his sleeves rolled up.

His stomach does a weird flip. Weird not because it’s unfamiliar — he knows what it is — but because it’s really not supposed to be looking at Malfoy that gives him that feeling.

Malfoy, not Professor Sprout, is packing dirt into a pot. He lifts his hand and uses the back of his wrist to wipe away a few glistening beads of sweat on his forehead, which is creased with concentration. There’s a clump of hair hanging in front of his eyes that he seems not to notice.

Then he picks up the pot, turns towards Harry, and finally notices him. 

He sees shock on Malfoy’s face and only half a second before he drops the pot Harry realises what’s about to happen, darting forwards to catch it before it can explode on the ground.

“What the fuck!” Malfoy exclaims, stumbling back a step, clearly disorientated. Harry lets out a breath of relief and sets the pot on the nearest workstation. “Jesus — Potter — what the fuck are you doing here!”

There is, Harry notices, a soft blush colouring Malfoy’s cheeks and nose. It’s very endearing.

“I’m really sorry, Malfoy,” he says, trying to keep the laughter out of his voice only semi-successfully. Malfoy scowls, and that’s endearing too. It’s less venomous than he remembers it being in school. Plus it’s hard to take him too seriously with that bit of dirt on his face and when Harry had just witnessed him elbow-deep in soil. God, he looks soft. He’d never known Malfoy could be this soft. “I had no idea — I was coming to see Sprout, you’re not …?”

He doesn’t actually want to say the words because the idea is so ludicrous he’s afraid it’ll sound stupid and Malfoy will laugh at him. But he’s here, isn’t he? Covered in dirt, clearly knowledgeable, and Harry had just seen a class coming out of the greenhouse.

“Sprout retired end of last year,” says Malfoy. He’s finally recovered from the shock and is pulling his gloves off now, setting them down next to where Harry had put the pot after snatching it out of the air. He gives Harry a searching look that’s difficult to read.

“So you’re …?” He still can’t say it.

Malfoy lifts an eyebrow. Harry can finally see a glimmer of amusement in his eyes.

“The new Herbology professor,” Malfoy says, finishing the sentence for him. “Yes. You can pick your jaw up off the floor now, Potter, you look more like a vapid tree frog than ever.”

“I just … I didn’t realise you even liked Herbology.”

“Well that’s weird,” says Malfoy, turning now to the large basin behind him with a tap over it. He turns it on and runs his hands under the water, sloshing it up his arms to get rid of the dirt covering them. The smudge on his face remains, though. “I thought I made it very clear how much I loved Herbology all those times we hung out in school.”

Taking Malfoy’s (unnecessarily sarcastic) point, he leans back against the workstation with the pot on it and crosses his arms. He watches Malfoy finish washing and when he shuts it off, he turns back towards Harry, drying them on a very clean and soft-looking towel. 

“I’m surprised McGonagall didn’t tell me she’d hired you.”

“What exactly are you doing here, Potter?” he says again, ignoring Harry’s last statement.

“Library,” he says mildly. “Hitting dead-ends at the Ministry one so I thought I’d give it a shot here.”

Malfoy rolls his eyes, which only makes Harry grin. The attitude, far from irritating him as it once had, serves only to amuse him now. Maybe it’s the backdrop of the greenhouse, or the way his hair looks golden in the filtered sunlight, or that fucking dirt on his face.

“Dangerous life as an Auror, is it?”

Harry shrugs, grinning cheekily. “Sometimes.”

He swears he sees Malfoy’s mouth twitch, but he does such a good job covering it up it might have been Harry’s imagination.

There’s silence for a beat; the reality of the years that have passed between then and now feels almost like a tangible presence between them, making the air thick and heavy.

Or maybe that’s just the humidity.

Malfoy lifts an eyebrow.

“You should probably be getting to the library if that’s what you’re here for,” he says finally.

Harry smiles.

“Yeah,” he says. “Probably.” And then, not really sure where he’s getting the bollocks, “D’you wanna get a drink with me tonight at the Three Broomsticks?”

Malfoy blinks at him. “What?” he says blankly

“Well?” Harry presses. “Do you?”

“I —” Malfoy blinks again. His utter bewilderment is as endearing as everything else. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah, it’d be good to catch up.” Among other things, although he doesn’t mention that. “What d’you say?”

Malfoy stares at him another moment, looking almost suspicious, before finally nodding.

“Sure,” he says. “I’ll meet you there round six.”

“Great.” Harry pushes off the workstation. He can’t help it any longer — he reaches out and uses his thumb to brush away the dirt on Malfoy’s cheek. Malfoy freezes at the touch and Harry sees him swallow. “You missed a spot,” he says by way of explanation, grinning again and pulling back. “See you at six, then.”

“Yeah,” says Malfoy in a distinctly breathless voice. “See you, Potter.”

[scullyverse]

Tease

Prompt by @notdeannatroi;

"I know you can be louder than that”

This is my first Stella/Scully smut so I hope it’s okay! I just love them together so much, ugh lol

Also available to read on ao3

“Stella” Dana warned, her eyes baring into Stella’s in the mirror as she lowered her mascara wand to the basin counter so she could place a hand over the hand of Stella’s that was now gently playing with the simple gold ring of her belly button piercing. “You have to work in a few hours. Don’t start something you can’t finish”

Stella/Scully || filth || 2.9k words || Rating E (Explicit for smut. You’ve been warned lol)

Stella would never get tired of seeing Dana like this, standing in her bathroom wearing only her matching lace black bra and panties, Stella’s favourite, as she let the hair dryer flick her long red hair over her shoulders, nearing the final touches of her morning routine. Dana had only stayed the night a few times so far in their relationship as what they had was fairly new, but every time she did, Stella found herself shocked about how much she began to love these moments. Loved just having Dana around her, doing the little things, like waking up in her arms, getting ready for the day or making coffee. Stella secretly loved the domestic nature of it all, it had definitely been confronting at first having someone seeming slip so easily through the walls she had built up around herself, but she trusted Dana more than anyone and she knew now that having these moments were something she was beginning to treasure.

“Like what you see detective?”

Stella jumped ever so slightly at Dana’s question, realising she had been caught red handed checking her out and that the hair dryer had stopped a little while ago leaving Dana looking at her through her reflection in the mirror, a smirk on her lips as she used her middle finger to dab on a light smudge of red lipstick across her bottom lip. Returning the smirk, Stella nodded from her place resting against the bathroom door frame before she let her eyes rake back down Dana’s body, taking in every curve and goosebump rise on her skin. She definitely liked what she saw. Biting on her bottom lip, Stella made her way towards the beauty in front of her before she stood behind her, wrapping her arms around her waist, her fingers settling on the flat expanse of Dana’s stomach fingertips barely slipping beneath the fabric resting on Dana’s pelvic bones, her chin resting on her shoulder, watching Dana continue to apply her makeup.

“Mmm I definitely like what I see” Stella moved slightly so her lips made contact with the bare skin of Dana’s shoulder, moving up before she brushed away a loose curl of red hair, letting her lips settle on her neck, giving nips to the strong muscle running down the side of her throat.

“Stella” Dana warned, her eyes baring into Stella’s in the mirror as she lowered her mascara wand to the basin counter so she could place a hand over the hand of Stella’s that was now gently playing with the simple gold ring of her belly button piercing. “You have to work in a few hours. Don’t start something you can’t finish”

Smirking against her skin, Stella held her gaze as she brushed her fingers over Dana’s skin, loving how the muscles underneath them rippled in a shudder of arousal. “Work called when you were in the shower. Turns out I’m not needed until tonight...” Trailing off innocently, Stella let her tongue snake out, tracing patterns on Dana’s neck, loving the slightly bitter taste of her vanilla body wash against the sweetness of her skin. Stella had to admit that night shifts weren’t her favourite now she was getting older, but if it meant she could spend the rest of the morning wrapped up in all Dana had to give her she certainly wouldn’t complain.

Dana’s lips broke into a sly smirk, her pupils dilating slightly as she watched Stella swirl her tongue around her skin, knowing what her tongue could do to other parts of her as well. She pushed her hips back slightly, causing Stella to suck in a breath as Dana’s ass made contact with her groin. Stella chuckled as her hands left Dana’s stomach and fell to her hips, pulling them against her fully her as she felt the lace of Dana’s underwear hit her bare skin between her parted silk robe. Dana’s hips wriggled slightly which caused Stella to pull her roughly against her groin, her lips brushing against Dana’s ear.

“You’re a fucking tease”

“You love it”

Stella chuckled as she tapped her hands on Dana’s hips, turning her around so she could push her against the basin, finally able to kiss that smirk off the red heads face. Pressing her body against Dana’s, Stella moved their lips together, her eyes closing when she felt Dana’s lips part to allow them to deepen the kiss. Even though they had spent most of the night fucking, Stella found her appetite insatiable when it came to Dana and she just couldn’t get enough, especially when she was teasing her dressed in nothing but her favourite lingerie. Using her knee to nudge Dana’s legs apart slightly, she slipped her thigh in between Dana’s, using her toes to push upwards, rewarded with warm heat against her skin. Dana moaned into their kiss, her hand reaching up to slip her hands into the part of Stella’s robe, moving them to cup her ass, pulling her in closer with the digging of her fingers into her bare flesh.

In any other instant Stella would probably feel guilty about dishevelling Dana’s hair after she had spent so much time getting it looking perfect, but the pooling of arousal in her lower stomach and the need to have Dana as close as possible quickly took over. Stella tangled her fingers into the slightly curled red head, her fingernails gently scraping against her scalp as she pulled her closer, pushing their lips harder against each other as she rocked gently, applying pressure to Dana’s centre with her thigh and in turn getting the sweet reward of hearing the soft moans of approval leave her partners mouth.

Stella felt one of Dana’s hands move from her ass, trailing over her skin as she went to reach around her front, causing Stella to quickly reach down and grip her wrist, stopping Dana’s hand just above where she wanted her most. Pulling away from the kiss she shook her head slightly, seeing the confusion in Dana’s eyes. “I want to fuck you”

Dana gave a whine of disapproval as Stella removed her thigh from Dana’s centre which caused Stella to chuckle in her throat, her eyes dropping to the way Dana’s chest rose and fell quickly with arousal, slightly flushed pink against her pale skin. She looked absolutely incredible. Stella traced her fingers down from Dana’s hair, raking slightly down her skin, leaving the faintest of trails as she stopped at her bra, pulling her forwards slightly with a flick of her finger.

“Take it off”

The red head quickly reached behind her to unclasp the material, letting it fall in her hands before she threw it to the bathroom floor, licking her lips as she watched Stella’s eyes fall to her chest with a hunger Dana knew all to well. Stella moaned her approval before she ran her finger down the valley between Dana’s breast, loving how her skin broke out in slight goosebumps and how her dusky pink nipples got harder with her growing arousal. Stella leaned down to place a kiss above Dana’s heart before she reached down to grip her ass, lifting her to sit on the edge of the basin, Dana having to reach out to grip Stella’s shoulders for balance so she didn’t fall back into the sink. Dana instinctively parted her legs, allowing room for Stella to fit between them.

Placing her hands on Dana’s upper thighs, Stella stepped forward so she was flush against Dana, loving how Dana’s legs wrapped around her thighs, locking them together with a grip of her ankles, like she needed any encouragement to stay where she was. Looking up into her eyes, Stella leaned down, her tongue circling one of Dana’s nipples which caused a throaty groan to escape Dana’s mouth, causing her chin to fall to her chest, her eyes never leaving Stella’s as she watched how her skin became wet beneath Stella’s tongue. Dana had never felt such eroticism before her relationship with Stella, never felt such outright lust. Stella loved to watch Dana, loved to see how her eyes darkened or every chew of her bottom lip. Before moving onto the other nipple, Stella gave the wet skin a sharp blow of cold air which caused Dana’s hip to twitch forward a small “Fuck” escaping her lips at the sudden temperature change before one of her hands reached up to tangle in Stella’s hair, pulling her closer to her chest. Stella moaned slightly as she felt Dana’s nails dig into her scalp, her own fingers digging into the skin on Dana’s upper thighs in response. She could feel the heat radiating from Dana’s core as she felt the now slick material rub against her stomach, Dana’s arousal seeping through the thin lace enough to leave wet patches on Stella skin.

“I think you might need a new pair love, these are a bit wet” Stella grinned, pulling away from Dana’s chest as she ran her hands up and down Dana’s thighs, teasing her by slipping to the inside of her thigh on occasion, her head motioning to Dana’s underwear.

“Shut up” Dana chuckled as she leaned forward, pulling her closer as she crashed their lips together again, her arms resting on Stellas shoulders, linking behind her as she used her ankles to pull Stella closer, sighing into the kiss as she finally felt a solid contact to her centre and not just to occasional brush of Stella’s skin. Stella could tell that Dana was getting impatient by the way in which she began to move, trying to get some sort of relief against her stomach. As much as she wanted to tease Dana until she was withering beneath her, Stella was getting impatient too, needing to watch Dana come probably just as badly as Dana want to come herself. It was one of Stella’s favourite things to see. Reaching up to Dana’s hips she gripped the sides of her underwear before she gave a tug. Getting the hint, Dana broke away from the kiss and untangled her arms and legs to allow Stella room to raise her ass slightly, helping Stella ease them off her body, throwing them next to her bra on the bathroom floor.

Stella used the change in position to take a step back, looking how Dana’s body was flushed from arousal, her nipples erect and slightly red and blushed from the attention she gave them earlier and the glimmer of arousal shining between her parted legs, waiting just for her. Dana rested her hands back onto the basin as she watched Stella slip the robe off her shoulders, bunching it in her hands as she put it on the floor, using it as a make shift cushion, providing her a little bit of comfort as she sunk to her knees. The sight of Stella on her knees in front of her caused Dana to bite her bottom lip as a fresh pulse of arousal surge to her clit. Stella wasn’t usually one to get onto her knees like this, but every time she did Dana knew it was the hottest thing she had ever seen. Especially when Stella looked up into her eyes from between her legs, her hands pulling one of Dana’s legs to rest over her shoulder, the other tracing through the small patch of trimmed red curls.

Stella’s eyes fell from Dana’s as she took in the sight before her of Dana’s flushed and dripping core, her outer lips swollen with arousal and she couldn’t stop herself from licking her lips with the anticipation of getting to taste the sweet sharpness that was so distinctively Dana. Giving the inside of Dana’s thigh a quick kiss and nip she used her free hand to part her lips, exposing her clit before she nuzzled it with her lips and gave it a kiss causing Dana’s fingers to shoot to her hair, holding her head gently against her, silently begging her not to stop. Stella closed her eyes as she began a rhythm of what Dana liked best, of circles with the tip of her tongue, knowing to drag the length of the flatness of her tongue on occasion before she dipped down, collecting the stickiness of Dana’s arousal on her tongue before returning to circles, repeating the pattern until she heard Dana begin to pant, her toes curling and she would slow back down, looking up at her with hooded eyes, watching how close she teetered to the edge. Dana gripped her hair a little harder in frustration as she looked down, her tongue poking out of her mouth and resting on her bottom lip as she watched Stella smirk with satisfaction between her legs.

“Fucking tease”

The way in which Dana’s voice always dropped that extra octave when she was this turned on caused a sharp stab of arousal to hit Stella’s own core, gripping her own legs a little tighter together to give herself some relief. Stella began her rhythm again, collecting the wetness that seeped down from Dana’s entrance before she brought her tongue back up to her clit, this time bringing it between her lips as she sucked, causing a breathy “Yes” to escape Dana’s lips as she let her head fall back, hitting the mirror behind her gently as she brought her free hand up to her own breast, brushing her nipples in time with Stella’s ministrations between her legs. Seeing movement, Stella’s eyes locked onto Dana’s fingers dancing over her breasts before she used the lapse of Dana’s focus to enter her with two fingers which caused Dana’s hips to nearly lift off the basin in surprise, her fingers pulling roughly at Stella’s hair. Her mouth parted in a silent gasp as Stella began a steady thrusting rhythm, her voice escaping her as she felt her inner walls begin to flutter around Stella’s fingers.

Stella pulled away a little for breath as she nipped at Dana’s outer lips once before she watched Dana’s hips begin to shake slightly. She could tell she was close with how Dana’s walls were gripping her fingers and how her brows were scrunched together in pleasure. But Stella wanted to hear her.

“I know you can be louder than that”

Stella’s lips brushed against Dana’s clit before she curled her fingers, hitting the soft spot inside of her which she knew Dana loved. Dana gave a loud moan as she began to pant, and licked her lips feeling her orgasm rapidly approaching her with every quickly thrust in and out of her and every suck of her clit.

“Oh god, fuck-“ Dana quickly sat up straighter as she reached down, both of her hands gripping in Stella’s hair, her legs parting as much as they could as she began rocking against Stella’s mouth. Dana was trying not to smother Stella too much but she felt her restraint snap when Stella entered her with a third finger and she sucked in a strangled gasp before stuttering “I’m c-coming!”

Stella thrust faster as she felt Dana’s orgasm crash over her, slowing only slightly when she felt Dana’s walls contract around her fingers, her clit pulsing rhythmically under her tongue as Dana let out a loud squeal, her toes curling tightly and her thighs shaking around her head. Stella slowed her movements, allowing Dana to ride out her orgasm with the gentle rock of her hips and shudder of muscles around her fingers. Once the grip was released on her hair, Stella pulled away for a much needed gasp of air as she gave her clit gentle kisses, smiling when Dana’s hips twitched with over sensitivity. Easing her fingers out, Stella was rewarded with a fresh pool of wetness running from Dana’s entrance. Stella was gentle as she cleaned Dana up, making sure to collect every drop before she rested back onto her heels, giving Dana a lustful smirk as she brought her fingers to her lips. “I knew you could be louder”

Dana giggled breathlessly as she watched Stella clean her fingers, her breath fast and shallow as she tried to come back to her senses, her body feeling completely liquid and heavy. Once she felt stable enough, Dana slipped off the basin to help Stella get to her feet, pulling her into a tight embrace before she pulled back with a shy smile. “I’ve never come so hard in my life”

Stella laughed as she brushed her fingers to Dana’s bottom lip, wiping the smudged lipstick there. “You might have to redo your hair and make up again before work. Unless you want everyone to know you just got fucked” Dana moaned as she took Stella’s finger into her mouth, holding it between her teeth with a smirk, slowly using her body to walk Stella backwards into her bedroom, fully committed to returning the favour with interest.

“I think it’s only going to get worse once I’m finished with you so why bother now.” Pausing as they reached the unmade bed, sheets still tangled from the night before, Dana pushed Stella back against the mattress, crawling on top of her before she gripped Stella’s wrists, holding them above her head before she leaned down to whisper in her ear.

“Besides, I want to see how loud you can be as you come”

[silverfootstepswrites]

Amaryllis | Chapter 20

< Chapter 19 | Chapter 20 | Chapter 21 >

++++

“I don’t see the point of all these schemes, Lady Sakura,” Kankuro sighed, chin in his hand. He watched Azra run a comb through Sakura’s hair. The servant secured it into a ponytail with a length of gold cord. Not a strand out of place. Sakura looked it over in the mirror before she nodded. Azra bowed.

“Kankuro,” Sakura said, examining her reflection.

Kankuro leaned forward in his seat a little. “Yes, My Lady.”

Her eyes met his in the mirror. She smirked. “This is because you are not a woman. A man can simply seize what he wants,” she stated.

Kankuro’s forehead wrinkled. “Is that true?” he asked, turning around to look at his sister. He winced when Temari’s knuckles connected with the top of his head.

“Yes,” Temari replied as she walked past him.

“I’d like to be the one escorting you,” Temari then said to Sakura.

“Because?” asked Sakura, looking at the mirror again. She adjusted the collar of her dress. As she turned her head from side to side, Esma approached and draped a shawl across her shoulders. Sakura nodded at her reflection.

“Because I don’t trust Prince Baki,” answered Temari.

Sakura turned on her stool to face Temari. She smiled up at her.

“Good answer,” Sakura replied. She patted Temari on the forearm once before she got to her feet.

++++

Prince Baki had accepted her invitation to breakfast on rather short notice.

They sat together in the private courtyard of Sakura’s wing of the palace. This early in the morning, the stone pillars cast long shadows across the floor.

Sakura lifted her cup to her lips. Sniffed. Wrinkled her nose.

Hands folded across her stomach, Azra stepped forward.

“Is everything alright, Your Grace?” the girl whispered in her ear.

“The fragrance is a little strong. This must be a different crop of tea than the last one I tried,” answered Sakura. She set the tea down without taking a sip.

Azra’s eyes widened. “With your permission, Your Grace, may I return to the kitchen to brew you a fresh pot?”

Sakura nodded. The girl placed the still-steaming cup on her tray. She bowed before she stepped away. Her footsteps tapped quickly against the packed earth.  Sakura watched her go. And then she glanced at Esma.

“My dear, it’s almost time for my cousins to eat as well. See to their breakfast preparations,” she then directed.

Esma bowed. But then hesitated as she glanced over at Baki.

Baki waved a hand at her. “Do as your mistress bids. I’m capable of eating on my own,” he said.

Esma bowed once again before she made her way out of the courtyard too.

They listened for the distant creak and then clang of the doors opening and shutting. Baki let out a sigh as he leaned back in his seat.

“Are you dissatisfied with them?” Baki questioned.

Sakura smiled. He was direct about these matters.

“Not at all,” she replied.

Baki scrutinized her expression. And then he reached inside his vest to pull out the note Mangetsu had passed along the night before.

“Then this is?”

Sakura shrugged before she said: “I found the cutest little stray kitten. I’d like to adopt it.”

But then Sakura’s express cooled. “Although I hear that it’s your consort and not you that is in charge of such things,” she added.

Baki cleared his throat.  He looked up at the sky, tilting his head like he was stretching his neck.

“That won’t be necessary. I can speak to her about such a small matter.”

Sakura narrowed her eyes. The corner of her mouth pulled up as she added, “Speaking of which, I’ve yet to meet your consort. I’ve heard such wonderful things about her. She’s from the Hoki family, isn’t she?”

A muscle in Baki’s cheek jumped. He smiled. But it didn’t reach his eyes.

“She’s quite the busy woman, you see,” he answered.

And something Kurenai had told her many times before echoed in the back of Sakura’s mind.

Hands that smell like sweet perfume. Dark curls spilling down her shoulder. Kurenai patting her back as she swayed back and forth.

“Remember, my darling, the heart of a man sways like a lone blade of grass. It topples with just a word of praise.”

Sakura widened her eyes. She moved her ponytail off her neck. Pretending not to notice the way his stare followed her actions. And then she smiled.

“Oh. What a shame. I would have so loved to meet the woman who captured the heart of such an honorable man.”

Baki leaned forward in his seat a little.

“Honorable?” he repeated.

Sakura let her smile widened. She dipped her head. “Of course.”

It didn’t take long for Baki to return to his usual good humor. Smirking and patting his chest as he laughed about this and that.

“I see, I see. Well, if you insist, I’ll have her make time. Perhaps you could even get along with her, General,” chuckled Baki.

Sakura opened her mouth. Closed it and smiled instead.

“Of course, Prince,” she replied.

That night, there was a grand feast. Some relative of Prince Baki’s was there to visit. He had just had his first son, which was, of course, cause to celebrate.

“You disapprove?” asked Suigetsu as he watched her pick her jewelry for the night. “Thought you liked any excuse to drink.”

“He wasn’t the one to give birth. Why is he being honored?” Sakura questioned.

Mangetsu wrinkled his nose as he pushed off the wall. “I’m no doctor, M’Lady. But I’m sure he contributed… for at least a few moments,” he pointed out. He moved past the twins who were busy brushing and plaiting Sakura’s hair. Arms crossed across his chest, he scrutinized the sights outside the window. Servants hurried back and forth carrying decorations and crates of fruit.

Sakura laughed. She hovered her hand over the tray that held a set of jewels that she had brought from home. Saltwater pearls that had each been harvested by hand. She ran them through her fingers. Each one was perfectly round- not a flaw in sight. She slipped the necklace over her head. The jewels clattered against each other as they settled into place.  She looked at herself in the mirror.

Gaara and Kankuro were already dressed. But Sakura was taking her time. There was no sense in rushing and appearing overly eager.

“You gonna sit next to the kid?” Suigetsu questioned.

In the mirror, Sakura could see Suigetsu lay down. Head propped up in his hand. Other arm dangling over the end of the lounge.

“Why would I not?” Sakura retorted.

“Yes, why would she not?” Temari echoed her question, eyes narrowing from the other side of the room.

“Prince hates him,” Suigetsu warned.

Temari rolled her eyes.

“He does. Or, at least, he’s jealous,” Mangetsu agreed. He turned to face them.

“Jealous?” Temari repeated. She stared at Sakura. Who returned the incredulous look.

“He gets all prickly any time a man gets too close to M’Lady,” added Suigetsu, waggling his fingers in a suggestive manner. Temari made a noise of disgust. But before she could grab her spear to threaten him, Mangetsu grabbed a nearby towel from the wash basin. It landed with a wet slap on Suigetsu’s arm.

Temari stared at Mangetsu. She pretended not to smile as she turned her head away.

Mangetsu twisted out of the way as Suigetsu flung the towel back. Suigetsu sat up, elbows resting on his knees. He shot his brother a glare before he looked back at Sakura.

“Do you know what’s attractive about you, M’Lady?” Suigetsu asked.

Temari glared at him. She clenched her hand into a fist. As she took a menacing step forward, the mercenary held up both hands.

“No. This is a serious question,” he insisted.

Heaving a sigh, Sakura finally twisted around in her seat to face him.

“My money?” she guessed.

Suigetsu wrinkled his nose.

“My lineage?”

Suigetsu made another face.

Kankuro finally spoke up from his seat in the corner. “Strength.”

Suigetsu shrugged one shoulder.

“That’s only part of it. Honestly, it’s the ‘keep everyone at arm’s length’ thing you do. Drives men crazy,” Suigetsu finally explained.

An incredulous laugh left Sakura.

“I’m serious, M’Lady. The whole ‘untouchable’ thing is absolute torture. I’m sure that’s the reason why you can’t shake Baki,” insisted Suigetsu.

“So you’re suggesting that if I roll over and make nice, he would lose interest after one night,” Sakura said.

Gaara flushed. Sleeve covering his mouth, he pretended to suddenly be very interested in the view outside the window. But Suigetsu nodded. He crossed his legs, hands grasping his ankles. He leaned forward a little.

“We’ve seen lots of people before. Men love what they can’t have,” Suigetsu declared.

Sakura searched his face. And then she got to her feet. She shook the wrinkles out of her skirt.

“Perhaps there’s merit in what you say. I don’t see any harm in testing it out tonight,” she decided. She held her hand out to Gaara. He took it, let her pull him to his feet. “We should go. It would be rude to be too late,” she then declared. Temari followed them out. But Kankuro didn’t move. He waited until the door closed before he spoke.

Kankuro scrutinized Suigetsu. “Does that apply to you as well?” he questioned.

Shrugging, Suigetsu leaned back a little. “Maybe. But I’m most attracted to M’Lady’s habit of paying us well,” he replied with a smirk. Suigetsu glanced back at his older brother, who was already in the process of slipping out the window. He turned back to Kankuro with a grin.

“Don’t worry. I actually like M’Lady. She takes us to all sorts of fun places. I won’t get in her way,” Suigetsu declared.

“Good,” was all Kankuro grunted before he got to his feet.

The banquet was held in the largest hall of the palace. Most of the guests were already seated by the time they announced Sakura. A male servant guided her to a seat towards the head of the table. There sat Baki. And, to his left, a woman in glittering purple fabric. She wore a translucent veil over her face, leaving just her eyes uncovered. They were grey. Twinkling sharply as they met Sakura’s gaze.

Of course, the place of honor to Baki’s right was already filled by his visiting relative. Sakura dipped her head in greeting as she sat at Consort Hoki’s left instead, but nothing more. Strictly speaking, she wasn’t really required to do much socialization since this was not her celebration.

According to hierarchy, Gaara, Temari, and Kankuro sat a little further down the table. She could see Gaara’s expression of unease as he looked her way.

“Cousin, you have, of course, heard of our dear General,” Baki announced, gesturing in Sakura’s direction. His hand moved past Consort Hoki, as if she were invisible. And in turn, she sat in silence, her dinner plate untouched.

Baki’s relative was a massive man with black hair in braids. His eyes lingered on Sakura for no longer than was polite before they returned to Baki.

“Of course. It is an honor to dine together with such a fine woman,” he responded.

Sakura watched the way Baki chortled. He drank his wine and ate with such ease.

“Well, two fine women. I’ve heard good things about Consort Hoki,” Sakura corrected. She took a sip of her wine as the men exchanged looks.

“Uh…. well… yes. Indeed,” Baki agreed after a moment.

Sakura pretended to examine the food on her plate.

“After all, your recent trade agreements were thanks to Consort Hoki’s family connections, weren’t they?” she went on. When silence answered her, she looked up. Eyes wide as she feigned confusion. And she could feel Consort Hoki’s stare burning into her.

Sakura didn’t flinch away from the intensity of that look. She met Consort Hoki’s eyes with a smile.

“I seem to recall hearing a rumor that you’re quite the poet, Consort Hoki,” Sakura then said.

For a long moment, all the other woman did was stare. And just as Sakura began thinking of something to say to fill the silence, Consort Hoki’s eyes crinkled at the corners.

“You flatter me, General,” she answered. Her voice was surprisingly low. Her diction was precise.

“Oh, I don’t flatter, Consort Hoki. I simply observe,” Sakura laughed.

She then smoothed over the awkward moment with a few well-placed comments. Soon, the two men were back to laughing and joking as they tore into their meals.

A little while later, she felt a touch to her elbow. She recognized Mangetsu’s black glove as she turned her ear toward him.

“News?” she whispered.

“Not really,” Mangetsu replied, matching her soft volume.

Her eyebrows rose. “Then why are you here?” Sakura wondered. She turned more until she was looking him in the face.

Mangetsu’s gaze darted over to Consort Hoki. There was a blur in the corner of Sakura’s vision as the consort turned back to her meal. Mangetsu grasped Sakura by the forearm and drew her closer.

“Miss Temari thinks we should see what Baki does if you receive some attention,” he said.

Sakura tilted her head a little. A smile spread across her face.

“Miss Temari?” she repeated.

But to her surprise, Mangetsu didn’t blush. He didn’t fumble.

He frowned.

“Because she’s M’Lady’s cousin. It makes you look bad if your guards go around referring to your cousins by name,” Mangetsu explained.

“For me?” Sakura wondered.

Mangetsu pretended not to hear her.

There was a pause. Sakura glanced over Mangetsu’s shoulder. She caught the way Baki was staring at them. Gaze darting back to his guest as he pretended to listen to the man speak. When Sakura craned her neck to speak into Mangetsu’s ear, she saw Baki’s jaw clench.

“Next time, have your brother come speak to me. Let’s see what the gracious prince does,” she murmured.

As Mangetsu pulled away, he smirked. “Never a dull moment with you, M’Lady,” he declared. And then he stepped back into the shadows of the banquet hall. Hardly anyone seemed to notice the mercenary’s departure. Save for Baki, who followed Mangetsu’s path until he was completely out of sight.

The banquet went on. Sakura made small talk here and there. Some diplomats came to greet her. She spoke for as long was polite, dismissing them when they overstayed their welcome. During some lulls, she managed to exchange a few words with Consort Hoki. And though the woman was cautious, Sakura grasped at least part of her situation. Especially when Suigetsu showed up halfway through the night.

“I’m hungry,” he complained.

Sakura rolled her eyes. She tossed him a dried apricot without looking back at him.

“So?” she asked.

When Consort Hoki looked at him, Suigetsu stared right back. He winked. She unfolded her fan, waving it in front of her face as she averted her gaze.

“Nothing much,” answered Suigetsu. He took a big bite of the apricot. Made a noise of approval before he tossed the rest into his mouth. He reached over Sakura’s shoulder for another.

He gestured with his chin toward the opposite end of the table. His voice dipped low so only she could hear.

“Couple of local merchants are thinking of overcharging you for some ‘exotic goods’. It’s all shit, honestly,” Suigetsu informed her. And then he nodded toward a servant girl who had just knelt to pour some wine. “That one says Concubine Deba threw a tantrum when she found out Consort Hoki was coming to the banquet tonight and not her.”

“A tantrum? What do you mean?” asked Sakura. She took a sip of her wine. When Suigetsu slung an arm over her shoulder, she glared at him. Suigetsu withdrew his arm with a chuckle.

“Throwing some things. Broke a vase or something. I think she beat a servant too,” he replied.

And then he nudged Sakura with his elbow. “He’s looking. You should probably grab me.”

“What?”

“Grab me like I just pissed you off,” Suigetsu insisted.

“You often irritate me. So it won’t be too difficult,” Sakura answered.

But even Suigetsu flinched a when Sakura’s hand shot out. She grabbed his face, fingers pushing his cheeks together.

“Like this?” she asked.

Suigetsu laughed a little. “Someone’s looking cranky.”

Sakura curled her upper lip. And for just a moment, Suigetsu’s smile faded. Hands tensing as he prepared for a real fight.

But then Sakura gave him a light shove as she released him.

“How does he look now?” she wondered.

“Like he might explode. See for yourself,” Suigetsu answered. He grabbed another handful of apricots and gave her a wink before he slunk back into the shadows.

Sakura glanced up just in time to catch Baki’s fierce stare. But when he saw her looking, he was quick to put on a smile. Beside him, Consort Hoki was watching her husband from behind her fan. When she caught Sakura’s gaze, she looked elsewhere again.

“Is everything alright?” Baki called down the table.

“Yes. Everything is just fine,” she assured him.

Which was the truth.

Because Sakura had confirmed that Prince Baki did seem to have an odd possessive streak. Made even more odd by the fact that he had absolutely no right to feel possessive over her of all people.

But the second thing Sakura noted was that while the relationship between Prince Baki and Consort Hoki was strained, it didn’t seem like the indifference was mutual.

She became even more certain of this when Baki’s guest, whose name she had already forgotten, asked about the other places in the Arids she had visit so far.

“Princess Mei invited me to visit Hilal just before this,” Sakura answered.

“Ah, Princess Mei,” the man repeated. He snorted a little.

Baki’s eyes narrowed. “She’s a good ruler,” he said to his guest. The other man’s smile faltered.

Consort Hoki’s hand tightened around her glass.

Sakura spoke up. “Princess Mei spoke well of you.”

At this, the prince’s face softened. Baki chuckled. “Of course. She never has anything bad to say about anyone,” he remarked. “She’s a good woman.”

Consort Hoki’s eyes suddenly looked like daggers. It almost knocked the breath out of Sakura. And when those daggers turned to her, Sakura felt a piece fall into place that she hadn’t even been looking for.

“I see,” Sakura said, looking right at Consort Hoki.

Smiling, Sakura leaned back on one hand.

“I see,” she said again, trying not to laugh.

As the night went on, wine continued to flow. A steady stream of dancers and singers kept the banquet lively. Every once in a while, Sakura looked down the table to check on her cousins. She even caught Gaara laughing a few times, which was nice. The color was starting to return to his face. He looked less and less like a wilting flower with each day he was apart from his father. The guilt twisted in her gut again as she recalled how long it had taken her to send that man away. The feeling twisted harder when Gaara looked up and beamed at her.

“General.”

Sakura turned toward the voice. It was Baki. Smiling with his mouth.

“You seem troubled,” he noted.

When Sakura glanced toward her cousins again, they were all watching her now. Even Kankuro, who had been absorbed in a conversation, was staring her way as he spoke.

“Yes. Just making sure my family is comfortable,” answered Sakura.

“You’ve no need to worry, General. Do I seem like the kind of man to neglect his guests?”

They laughed. But there was an edge to Sakura’s smile as she replied. “Is my concern for my family a slight on your honor, Prince?”

Prince Baki’s eyes widened. He seemed at a loss for words until another laugh boomed out of him.

“You’re too serious, General! Lighten up a little,” Baki chuckled.

Kankuro’s eyes narrowed. Gaara gripped his upper arm. He leaned in to whisper something in his older brother’s ear.

When Baki found Sakura still watching her cousins, his smile waned.

“Besides, General, you coddle them. The boy, especially. It’s no wonder he’s like that,” Baki added. This time, he met Gaara’s eyes. Lips parting in a sneer.

Temari stretched her neck to one side. Then the other. As her tongue rolled across the inside of her cheek, Sakura caught her gaze. Sakura shook her head. Temari’s jaw clenched, but she stayed in her seat.

“Like what, Prince Baki?” Sakura asked.

Baki’s eyes were still fixed on Gaara as he replied.

“Like a boy. Not a man.”

Up until then, the banquet hall had been filled with chatter and laughter. The sounds of bracelets jangling and silverware scraping across plates had covered up most private conversations.

But all fell silent when Sakura slammed her hand down on the table. Rattling the plates and sending a few cups toppling. Wine soaked into the fine tablecloth.

“Are you insulting my family, Prince Baki?” demanded Sakura.

Only then did Baki look at her again. His smirk died as he saw how her eyes burned.

“Oh, General, we’re all family here. I only speak out of concern for the boy,” he said, waving a careless hand, as if to brush her anger aside. “Come now. You’re spoiling the mood.”

Sakura’s hand tightened into a fist. She took a deep breath through her nostrils.

“It is you who has spoiled the mood tonight, Prince Baki,” Sakura responded. Her stare flickered over to her cousins. Especially to the way both Gaara and Kankuro had grabbed onto Temari’s arm and shoulder. They had probably stopped her from lunging across the table.

It took Sakura by surprise when she felt a hand rest on top of hers. When she looked down, it was Consort Hoki’s hand that had crept out past her embroidered sleeve.

“I beg your forgiveness, General. My lord husband has had much to drink tonight,” Consort Hoki murmured. But her eyes weren’t apologetic as they stared at Sakura from above her veil. Instead, they were heavy with meaning as she continued speaking.

“It must be the wine that has twisted his tongue. I’m certain that those are not his true feelings.”

At this, Prince Baki’s expression twisted.

“Who are you to speak for me?” he rebuked. But Consort Hoki did not flinch or shrink away. She regarded Baki with the same calm before she returned her gaze to Sakura.

Sakura pulled her hand away from Consort Hoki’s.

“I certainly hope you are correct. I believe I’ve had enough for tonight,” Sakura announced. She turned to Baki’s guest, whose eyes darted back and forth.

“Congratulations. I will be taking my leave now,” Sakura declared. And as she spoke, her cousins rose to their feet with her.                                                      

All eyes were on Sakura as she stepped away from the table. Mangetsu fell into step behind her, as if he had always been there. When Sakura reached her cousins, she saw Gaara hold his hand out to her. Sakura grasped it. Laced her fingers with his as they continued along. She didn’t look back to check Baki’s expression. She didn’t need to. Not when Suigetsu met them at the door. There was a wicked gleam in his eyes.

“Oh, you’ve done it now, M’Lady,” Suigetsu whispered with glee.

“Later,” was all Sakura said as they stepped out of the silent banquet hall.

++++

“You’ve spelled this wrong again,” Ino said. She tapped her nail against the parchment. Haku stood at the foot of her bed, folding linens into neat rectangles. He stacked them on top of each other. He plucked his sleeves straight as he made his way over to Ino.

“Which word, Your Ladyship?” Haku queried.

“Consequence. It’s q-u-e, not q-e-u,” explained Ino. She ran her nail along the letters to show him. “You made the same mistake last time.” She began fanning herself. A lock of her hair fluttered against her ear. She brushed it away.

Haku smiled. He bowed.

“I beg your pardon, Lady Ino. Thank you for your instruction,” he replied.

Ino’s lower lip jutted out. She snapped her fan shut. “You don’t have to be like that, you know,” she pointed out.

Haku’s eyes widened.

“Like what, Your Ladyship?”

Ino huffed. “I’m not mad at you. It’s so you’ll fix your mistake.”

And then she snapped her fan open. Waving it in front of herself a little faster. “Sakura would throw a fit if she saw you acting like that. You’re one of her people now. You should really only apologize to her,” she added.

Haku looked down. Hands folded in front of him. He tried to speak. Hesitated.

Ino eyed him for a moment. She lowered her fan. Let it rest in her lap. Leaning her cheek on her hand, she sighed. “You can just say it, you know. I’m not the kind of person to go tattling your every word to the Admiral or something,” Ino assured him.

Haku peeked up at her with big eyes. His mouth puckered to one side. Hands twisting together, he finally spoke.

“People keep saying that. That since I’m Lady Sakura’s. But… I’m not really sure what that means. I’m trying my best to be useful. Yet I’m unsure whether that’s enough,” he confessed.

Ino squinted at him. She gestured for him to come closer, and when he did, she pointed at the empty chair across from her. Haku, still wringing his hands, slowly sunk into the seat.

“I recall you being so cheerful and sweet when Sakura was around. When did you become so gloomy?” Ino lamented.

Haku’s shoulders drooped. “I apolo-”

“Stop that. There you go again,” Ino interrupted.

She leaned on her elbow. And then she pointed at him.

“Here’s what it means to be in the service of someone powerful,” she suddenly announced. Haku stared at her.

“You might be a servant, but you directly serve the most powerful family in the nation. The only person above a duke is the king or queen, and your mistress is the daughter of the last queen,” explained Ino.

“But… the Hyuuga family also…” Haku interjected.

Ino’s eyebrows rose. She lowered her hand.

“I’ve been studying under Miss Shizune. Because there’s so much I don’t know,” he fumbled to explain.

Ino smiled a little.

“Okay, yes, the Hyuuga’s are also from a line of dukes. But that doesn’t matter. Sakura should be queen. You serve the person who should be queen. Do you get that?” Ino lectured.

Haku nodded.

“That also means that you are above all the servants of all those other families. You will be Sakura’s steward. Her right hand in running the household. You’re not just some nobody,” Ino laid it out for him.

“But I’m just-”

“It doesn’t matter. To be Sakura’s means that you’re up there now. So stop worrying about other people. Stop worrying about being good enough. She wouldn’t have put you here if she thought you wouldn’t live up to her standards,” she scolded him, rapping her fan against the table.

Ino then gestured all around.

“I don’t know what you did before you came here, but things are different now. When Sakura is Queen, you’ll be the right hand of a queen. You shouldn’t be skulking around bowing to every idiot that sets foot in the palace,” she then added.

Her eyes followed Haku as he got to his feet. He took the stack of folded linens and finished putting them away in the armoire.

They were inside one of the guest rooms in Kurenai’s villa. Ino had heard a merchant’s passing comment about the private residence on the northern coast of the island. Kurenai had been more than happy to give her a tour of the modest building. There were several servants maintaining the place. Even so, Haku had insisted upon accompanying Ino on the horseback ride up.

“You should have one of the guards escort you back. And go before it gets dark,” Ino reminded him as he finished preparing her room. One of the other servants could easily accomplished the task. But Haku insisted on doing it himself. Fluffing the pillows to Ino’s liking. Leaving her cloak draped over the back of a chair just the way she liked it.

“I’ll be fine, Your Ladyship. I can ride a horse. Or I can ask one of the merchants to let me ride on his cart,” Haku assured her as he finished hanging her clothes so they wouldn’t wrinkle. The wooden hangers clicked against each other.

But Ino’s mouth puckered. She put her fists on her hips.

“I know Sakura asked you to watch over me. But did you know that she asked me to take care of you too?” Ino declared.

Haku’s hands stilled. He peered at her past the open door of the armoire.

“…Very well, Lady Ino. I will ask a guard to escort me,” he relented.

Ino grinned, leaning on her elbow as she answered: “Excellent. But not before we have some tea. I’m famished.”

Across the island, an elbow connected with Kisame’s shoulder.

“Who was that? I’ll slice you open,” Kisame growled, already on his feet. But he lowered his sword when he realized it was just Zabuza.

“It’s rare for you to fall asleep out in the open like this,” Zabuza commented as he sat down across from Kisame. He grunted, swinging his arm back to rest on the back of the chair.

Kisame yawned, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Chojuro?” Zabuza asked.

Kisame yawned again. “Out,” he answered.

And when Zabuza looked around the dingy tavern, Kisame spoke again.

“Kushimaru’s watching the prince.”

Zabuza leaned back in his seat. He ruffled a hand through his hair.

“So? What did you want to ask me?” demanded Zabuza.

Both men cast a look around the room. Kisame scrutinized the bartender, who nodded in return. The bartender then untied his apron as he began muttering about getting more ale from the cellar. He disappeared into the back room, footsteps clomping across squeaky floorboards.

“That weird boat the fishermen were talking about yesterday. I saw it,” Kisame said, his voice just loud enough for the other man to hear.

Zabuza squinted. “So?”

Kisame said nothing. He tapped his knuckles against the worn table. Leaning back in his seat, he sighed.

“S’no merchant vessel. That’s for sure. Way too small,” he stated.

“It’s a big island. People can visit for other reasons,” Zabuza pointed out.

“It hasn’t docked. It just keeps circling around,” Kisame added. And Zabuza’s mouth pulled down.

“Alright. Strange,” Zabuza finally agreed.

“I saw it head up north this morning. I need you to go check on it,” Kisame then said.

Zabuza bristled.

“You do it,” he snapped.

Another yawn pulled Kisame’s mouth open. He rubbed away the moisture that squeezed out past his eyelids.

“Been up all night tracking that damn ship. I need to sleep. Besides, I hear the General’s little bird headed up that way not too long ago.” A grin pulled at Kisame’s mouth. His smirk only widened as he watched Zabuza get to his feet.

“Fine,” Zabuza grumbled. He grabbed his cloak, along with his sword.

“Ah, to be in love,” Kisame teased, cupping one hand around his mouth.

Zabuza paused at the door. He looked back at Kisame, unsmiling as ever. He opened his mouth, like he was going to say something. Shaking his head, he pushed the door open.

As Zabuza made his way north, Ino threw her head back and laughed.

“You’re joking!”

Haku shook his head.

“She picked him up by the back of his shirt and threw him out,” Haku insisted.

Ino clapped her hands, almost cackling.

“Oh, I wish I could have seen that myself,” she sighed.

They exchanged a smile. And then their heads turned as the door opened.

Kurenai stepped in, draped in silk and jewels. A long pipe balanced in her fingers.

“Haku, dear, why don’t you bring us some refreshments? And bring enough for yourself as well,” Kurenai ordered.

Haku got to his feet. He pulled the chair out a little further for her. And then he made his way out of the room.

Kurenai smiled after him.

“Such a sweet little dove,” she murmured. She sank into the chair, earrings tinkling with the movement. Then she tilted her head as she looked to Ino.

“What do you think?” Kurenai then asked, gesturing all around.

Ino clasped her hands together. “It’s all so romantic. I would love to live in a place like these,” she gushed.

Kurenai’s expression warmed. She took a puff of her pipe. Blue wisps trailed from her mouth. She turned her head to exhale to the side.

“My son is still unwed. I would give this residence to you if you marry him,” Kurenai offered.

Ino’s hands fell into her lap. She grimaced.

“My answer is still ‘no’, Your Highness,” Ino responded. She wrinkled her nose. “The Admiral is a good man, but just not the husband I’d envisioned.”

Kurenai just gave her a mild smile.

“I thought you’d say as much. Pity. I’d love a smart girl like you as a daughter-in-law. I can’t force you, however,” Kurenai relented. She crossed her wrists in her lap. Gold bracelets tinkling together with each movement.

Kurenai examined Ino. Ino pretended not to notice, as was polite. She fiddled with her hair instead.

“I have something for you, my dear girl,” Kurenai announced after some time.

Ino glanced up at her from beneath her long eyelashes. But the coyness disappeared from her gaze as she watched Kurenai pull something glinting from her cloak.

“Oh… I… is that… a knife?” Ino fumbled.

Kurenai’s mouth pulled up at the corners. “A dagger,” she corrected.

“Ah,” was all Ino said in response. She just stared at it as Kurenai set it on the table.

“It’s one of my lighter ones. I received this one from my mother when I was a little girl,” explained Kurenai.

Ino’s eyes widened. “Then, this is from…”

“Yes, queen before my sister. Queen Chiyo,” Kurenai concluded for her.

“It’s very light. Easy to handle. A good dagger for beginners,” Kurenai then listed.

Ino blinked several times. “I couldn’t possibly accept this, Your Highness. It’s too valuable. And…” As Ino trailed off, Kurenai’s eyes sharpened.

“Are you frightened of holding a blade?” guessed Kurenai.

Ino nodded.

“Oh, nonsense. This is just in case you’re in danger. Start waving one of these around and it can buy you enough time for someone to come running. From my experience, very few people are determined to stand in the way of a pretty woman with a knife,” Kurenai assured her, a smile returning to her face.

“Still… this is so precious… How could I dare to take this?” Ino hedged. She inched her hand toward the handle. Then pulled her hand back.

“I think it would put my heart at ease, as well as that of my niece, to know that you do not walk unarmed, Lady Ino,” Kurenai stated.

Ino’s lip twitched. She watched as Kurenai picked up the weapon instead. She mimed a few slices, the sharpened edge splitting the air. She then slid the blade back into the scabbard. She handed it to Ino. With the scabbard on, it didn’t look like such a frightening thing.

Ino’s fingers curled around the handle.

“Thank you, Your Highness,” Ino uttered. She clutched the weapon against her breast.

Kurenai beamed.

“Of course, my dear. How could I do any less for my niece’s cherished friend?” Kurenai replied.

It wasn’t long before Haku returned with their tea and snacks. The plates barely made a sound as he set the golden tray down on the table. As he began setting the food and drinks in front of them, he paused. Gaze drifting towards the window.

“What is it?” questioned Kurenai. She followed his stare.

Haku straightened, hand resting on his hip.

“How odd. I thought merchant ships didn’t come around this area,” he remarked. He tilted his head a little. “It… looks like they’re moving to dock here,” he then observed.

Kurenai’s expression didn’t change. She reached toward Haku, pulling the boy closer.

“Go get someone. Just in case,” she murmured in his ear. She waited for Haku to look her in the eyes. Only when he nodded did she release him.

Haku finished setting the table, hands steady and smooth. Ino’s eyes flickered toward the window too. She craned her neck, trying to follow the path of the small ship.

Haku bowed before he slowly made his way out of the room.

Kurenai took her tea. She wafted the steam towards herself. Ino stare at her cup. She bit her lower lip.

“Should we…. go? Couldn’t they be dangerous?” Ino wondered. She slowly moved to her feet.

But Kurenai didn’t move from her seat. She took another drag from her pipe.

“Oh no, my sweet girl. We must stay here to greet our guests,” answered Kurenai. “They could simply be envoys.” She scrutinized Ino through the blue smoke that trailed out of her mouth. Kurenai tilted her head to the other side.

“It’s alright. People like us have no need to fear,” Kurenai then added. She pushed the plate of cookies closer to Ino. And Kurenai rewarded her with a smile when Ino finally took one. Ino returned the expression before she took a nibble.

It didn’t take long for the small ship to dock. The guards on post approached, their spears held up in warning. A few more guards joined them. They spoke for a long time. Casting glances back towards the large building they guarded.

After a long while, two men in brown cloaks began trudging up the dock. Guards followed them, their shoulders tense. Kurenai followed their path, taking leisurely puffs of her pipe. She leaned to one side. And then she smiled at Ino.

“Put on a happy face, sweet girl. They’re here,” she announced.

Ino gulped down her tea and did so. A perfect noble lady. Composed even in the face of the unknown.

An attendant knocked on the door a few minutes later.

“You may enter,” Kurenai called.

The servant who entered had been with their family for many years. She knew the meaning of Kurenai’s smile and the sharp clink as she set her spoon down on the saucer.

“I beg pardon, Mistress. Diplomats from the mainland have arrived. They claim to have an appointment with you,” she reported.

Kurenai’s expression brightened. “They do not. But send them in anyway. I’m curious to see what this is all about,” she replied.

Ino cast her a nervous look but kept quiet.

The men who shuffled into the salon were dressed in finery. But they lacked the posture or confidence.

“Gentlemen,” Kurenai greeted them.

There were no chairs prepared for them, The men stood. One of them twisted his hands together. The other stood with his hands clasped behind him.

“Greetings, Your Grace,” one of them replied.

Ino’s eyebrows rose. She took a sip of her tea to hide her mouth as it pulled into a line.

Even stranger for diplomats not to know the face of the duchess.

“What brings you here, good sirs?” Kurenai questioned with a polite smile.

“We’ve been sent on behalf of our employer to escort Lady Ino back to her family, Your Grace.”

Ino’s eyes widened. She gulped down her tea, suppressing a cough.

Kurenai scrutinized the men. “And under whose authority? Who is this employer of yours?” she demanded.

The two men exchanged a nervous look. One of them then spoke.

“We were given instructions. But we were told that our employer is to remain a mystery,” he answered.

“It should be a simple matter. It must be Lady Ino’s mother or father? Who else would be so desperate to send a ship uninvited to another’s territory?” Kurenai guessed, keeping her tone light. She dropped a cube of sugar in her tea. It hit the bottom of the cup with a sharp plink.

“I don’t know you. Neither of you work for my father. And where’s your heraldry if you do?” Ino spoke for the first time.

Kurenai’s eyes narrowed.

“Why don’t you lower your hoods and present yourselves properly?”

“We were told to move with haste or we would not be paid. I’m afraid Lady Ino will need to come with us,” the man insisted. He took a step toward Ino, who flinched.

“Oh, come now, gentlemen. There’s no need to rush,” Kurenai insisted.

But as the man took another step, Ino jumped out of her seat.

“Stay away from me!” she exclaimed. And then her head whipped around. “Guards!” she called.

“Alright, that’s enough out of you,” the other man grunted. He lunged forward, grabbing Ino’s forearm. She shrieked, clawing at his face with her free hand. Kurenai jumped up too. When he ignored her demands to release the girl, Kurenai doused him in her lukewarm tea. It did little to deter him.

“Your Highness! Help me!” Ino screamed as she tried to twist in the strange man’s grasp.

Kurenai lunged. She grabbed the man’s cloak, and then his hair, pulling as hard as she could.

The other man threw himself into the fray. He grabbed Kurenai around the waist and yanked her away. She kicked and she swore at the both of them. Ino sobbed, still slapping at her captor.

“Let’s get this one on the boat. Before the guards get here,” the man holding Ino grunted. And as he yanked Ino closer, there was a wet squelch.

His eyes widened.

“I’m sorry,” Ino whispered.

The handle of a beautiful dagger protruded from his gut. The golden handle, inlaid with sparkling jewels, looked so odd against the rough fabric of his shirt. A dark red stain bloomed from where the blade disappeared into his body.

“I’m sorry,” Ino said again. She took a step back. The man’s hands released her, falling to his stomach instead.

The second man took in a sharp breath.

“What did y-”

And before he could finish his sentence, Kurenai jammed her elbow into his throat. He fell to the ground, wheezing. Kurenai grabbed the vase of flowers off the table and brought it down on his head. The porcelain shattered.

The room fell silent except for Ino’s panicked gasps.

Kurenai stared down at the man for a long time. She nudged the man with her foot. She watched his chest rise and fall in a ragged breath.

“This one’s  alive,” was all she announced.

And then she turned to Ino.

There was blood on the front of her silk dress. She stood shivering, arms limp at her sides.

The man lay at her feet, unmoving. The puddle of his blood slowly soaking into the carpet.

“My girl, are you alright?” Kurenai asked.

And as if the sound pulled her from her stupor, Ino burst into tears.

“Oh, Your Highness, what have I done?” Ino gasped. She touched her face. Recoiled when she realized that there was blood on her fingers.

“Quickly! This way! Someone screamed!” a voice shouted from outside. Footsteps began stamping their way down the corridor.

Kurenai’s head whipped around to the closed door. Then back to Ino.

Crossing the room, Kurenai grabbed Ino by the head. She yanked at her braids and tangled the hair between her fingers. She slapped at Ino’s left cheek until it turned red, ignoring the girl’s sobbing. Her eyes darted over the girl’s body. And then she grabbed Ino’s sleeve and pulled until it tore. She grabbed at her skirts too, tugging until the seams ripped and the pearls went scattering across the carpet.

Kurenai grabbed Ino’s hands and pulled her close.

“Ino. Ino. Listen to me,” Kurenai hissed. She shook the girl until she finally opened her eyes.

“Just do as I say. Let me handle everything. You don’t have to say anything to anyone, alright?” Kurenai whispered.

Ino stared at her.

“Alright?” Kurenai repeated, shaking her again.

Ino slowly nodded.

“Good girl,” Kurenai sighed.

Kurenai released Ino. Looked over herself for a moment. She ran rough hands through her hair and tugged at her dress until it sat askew on her body.

The double doors burst open. Guards stormed in, their spears pointed in every direction.

Kurenai threw her arms around Ino, hiding the girl’s face in her dress.

“What is the purpose of having so many of you!” Kurenai bellowed. She pointed an accusatory finger at the guards. Then at the two bodies on the ground.

“I should have all of your heads!” she then snapped.

The guards immediately bowed.

“We beg your forgiveness, Your Highness. This oversight on our part is unforgivable,” one of them responded.

And Ino, her face pressed to Kurenai’s dress, was thankful that she didn’t have to see that body again. Thankful that she could sit quietly as Kurenai explained how the two men had assaulted them without warning.

“Why were two of you not posted directly outside my door?” Kurenai snapped.

Ino couldn’t hear their answer as she looked down at her hand. Saw the smear of blood on the side of her finger. She felt sick to her stomach. She turned her hand over. Saw more blood, too dark, too wet against her skin. She burst into tears again.

“Oh, you poor thing. You must have been so terrified,” Kurenai crooned. She patted Ino’s tangled hair, swaying them back and forth.

“What… is this mess?” a man’s voice came from the doorway. There was a crunch as he stepped on a shard of the broken vase.

“This one is still alive. I want him locked up and questioned. Clean the rest of this up. I don’t want to see it,” Kurenai ordered.

“Right away,” a few different voices replied.

Two of the guards murmured something. They counted together before they grunted in unison.

Ino felt like her head might split in two. She could barely see past her tears as someone helped her to her feet.

“Come, My Lady. Let’s get you out of here,” an unfamiliar voice murmured.

And it didn’t matter who it was. Or where they were going. Kurenai’s hands released hers. Cool and smelling of flowers. Not at all like the blood that was pooling all along the floor.

++++

A dry wind whistled above the courtyard. The stone walls of the Viper’s Fang shielded them from the bits of sand that would have blown through.

Sakura set her cup down on the table. The taste of mint filled her mouth as she looked toward the doors.

“She’s late,” grumbled Temari.

“Nobles usually are,” Kankuro sighed in response.

“Perhaps she isn’t coming,” suggested Gaara. He watched as Kankuro picked up a bit of flatbread, topped it with a piece of cheese and a dab of jam. Kankuro put the same ingredients together, and then he held it up to Temari. She opened her mouth to let him feed her.

“Well, she should hurry. I want to go to the bath house before it gets too crowded,” Temari griped after she swallowed her food. She fanned herself with her hand.

“The food here is divine, but what I wouldn’t give to swim in the ocean right now,” sighed Kankuro.

Gaara and Temari sighed along with him.

“It’s no wonder some of us fled across the sea. It must have been this heat,” Sakura agreed. And then she lifted her head as she heard a distant noise. Several seconds later, Azra stepped outside. She hurried across the courtyard to whisper that Consort Hoki had arrived.

Sakura nodded at her.

Azra hurried back inside to escort the guest.

Consort Hoki was dressed in a simple gown. A cool blue with few jewels. And only one attendant trailed her as she took slow, easy steps across the stone.

Sakura took all these details in without comment.

She rose to her feet when the consort approached. Her cousins followed her example.

“Good morning, Consort Hoki. Your arrival is lovely,” Sakura greeted her.

Consort Hoki dipped her head. “Thank you for your hospitality. I am honored,” she recited in return.

It took a moment for everyone to settle in their spots around the table. Consort Hoki’s attendant stepped back and disappeared into the shadows. As if she had never arrived in the first place.

Azra and Esma poured the consort a fresh cup of tea. A place had already been set at the table for her. Esma even turned the handle of the cup so that it rested just by the consort’s waiting hand.

“I hope these two have been serving you well, General,” Consort Hoki commented as she watched the twins work.

“They’ve been splendid. I cannot complain,” replied Sakura.

Consort Hoki lifted her tea to her nose. Inhaled the fragrance. “And yet you ask for another,” she commented before she took a sip.

Temari’s smile dropped.

“That is testament to your poor management of the harem, rather than to my personal greed, Consort Hoki,” answered Sakura.

Gaara tensed. His gaze darted between the two women.

That was, until Consort Hoki laughed.

“You are as they say, General. Direct in your speech,” the consort noted.

Sakura pulled her sleeve back. Her bangles had tangled together. They made music as she freed them from the twist, clattering together.

“Well, then let me be even more candid with you. I have absolutely no interest in your husband. But I do want that servant girl,” Sakura declared.

Consort Hoki’s smile waned. “No interest?” she repeated. “He seems quite set on you, General. There are even talks of having you elevated to the status of second concubine.”

It was Sakura’s turn to laugh. But it was a sharper sound. And her head didn’t move. Just her mouth turning up at the corners.

“Oh. To have the unwarranted confidence of a man,” Sakura remarked.

Consort Hoki’s expression shifted. She leaned in a little closer.

“Then why accept his invitations? Why accept his attention?” The bitterness bled into her words. Even if she hadn’t meant for it to. “If you’re so intelligent, General, you should know what that does to a man like my husband.”

Sakura’s smile widened. Ice in her voice as she replied.

“What it does? To accept diplomacy? You accuse me of seducing your husband. Yet you fail to find fault in a man who lusts after anything with breasts,” scoffed Sakura.

Consort Hoki stiffened.

“How many women does he have in his harem? Yet he is unsatisfied,” Sakura went on. And then she looked Consort Hoki right in the eyes. “And you are unsatisfied.”

Consort Hoki’s hands clenched.

“You speak of troubles you know not of, General. An unmarried woman cannot possibly know what it’s like…” she ground out in return. Her voice trembling and eyes filled with heat.

Sakura touched her finger to her jaw. Tilting her head to one side.

“True enough. But I’ve seen men. I’ve killed men. And I’ve dealt with enough men to know that they’re quite predictable,” Sakura retorted. Her gaze trailed back to the consort.

“That you sit here yipping in anger at me, while that man lounges in a harem that you have failed to take control of…. speaks volumes, Consort Hoki,” Sakura then added. Twisting the knife a little harder.

Consort Hoki flinched. Her head fell toward her chest. And as Sakura observed her face from this closely, she began to search past the kohl and the foundation. All of the layers of color were hiding something she had never noticed before.

“You’re… younger than me, aren’t you?” Sakura suddenly realized.

Swiping tears out of her eyes, the consort lifted her chin.

“I’m an adult! I’ll be 20 next summer,” she spat back.

Kankuro dropped his cheese.

“You’re… barely older than me,” Gaara whispered.

“Prince Baki must be twice your age,” Temari also remarked.

“You’re a child,” Sakura declared. She lowered her arms, sitting up straight now.

She caught the way Azra and Esma stared at her. When they met her gaze, they looked down at the ground.

“Oh,” Sakura sighed as her plans collapsed into dust. She rubbed the heels of her hands into her closed eyes. “No wonder. No wonder you have no strength in this place.”

Lowering her hands, Sakura looked at the consort again. “How old were you when you married? 15? 16?” she interrogated.

“…16,” came the terse response.

“Is that normal?” demanded Sakura, looking over at her cousins.

“No,” Kankuro spat.

“Reprehensible,” Temari grumbled, not-quite under her breath.

Consort Hoki rubbed one of her arms, eyes fixed on the table. “My parents were going to send my sister instead. She was 14. I insisted on going in her place,” she recounted.

Sakura rubbed both hands over her face before dropping them into her lap.

“Why would you do that?” Sakura inquired. “Both proposals are terrible.”

Consort Hoki lifted her chin. “The eastern kingdoms have been at war for many years. Trade has been difficult enough as is. Opening up a route to the west was the only way our nation could survive. My parents didn’t like it either. But they begged one of us to accept the proposal.” Tears dripped into her lap as she spoke.

Sakura didn’t know what to do. She thought about what she had seen other people do in situations like this. She glanced over at Temari. Temari mimed wiping tears on her face.

The consort blinked when she felt Sakura push a handkerchief into her fist. She stared at the white silk. And then she used it to dab at her eyes. It came away stained tan and black.

“This union was just for the trade rights. His Highness has never laid a hand on me. I should be so grateful for my situation,” Consort Hoki confessed. She wiped her eyes again. The kohl smeared around her eyelashes.

“I’m a consort in name only. No one respects me. The harem ridicules me and steals my funds. I’m no one in this place. Even to my own husband,” Consort Hoki then said before she pressed her mouth into a thin line.

Consort Hoki wept as quietly as she existed. Shoulders trembling. Head bent low to hide her face.

Sakura felt her jaw clench. And when she looked up, she saw that tears were streaming down Esma’s cheeks too.

She leaned her cheek on her fist as she wracked her brain. Shook her head a little at how complicated this had all become.

“I do hate to be obtuse like this. But, I must ask…” Sakura hedged. She waited for the consort to lift her head a little. “Do you… love Prince Baki?”

Kankuro tilted his head back and uttered an obscene word when Consort Hoki nodded.

Sakura rubbed her temple. Closed her eyes to take a deep breath. And when she opened them, she motioned to Azra and Esma.

“Dry your tears and go fetch your mistress something sweet from the kitchen,” Sakura commanded.

The twins froze. But Sakura flapped her hand more insistently.

“I already know you were spying for her. Just go now. I’ll be angry with you two later,” Sakura insisted.

The twins cast a nervous look around the room. When Temari nodded, they bowed before they ran across the courtyard, back inside.

“Consort Hoki-” Sakura began.

“Shijima,” the girl croaked. She blew her nose into the handkerchief. When she lifted her chin, her eyes were swollen and smeared black with kohl. But she offered a tremulous smile. “You might as well call me by my name. I’m not much of a consort.”

Sakura felt something twinge inside her chest.

“Shijima,” Sakura repeated.

She remembered being 19. How the title “General” still felt alien. How everyone expected her to be an adult when she still felt so small. Even with her aunt and her cousins by her side, it had been a lonely fight.

“Shijima,” Sakura said again. She folded her arms across her chest. “I need you to look at me.”

Shijima sniffled. Slowly, she raised her head again. Still hiccuping. Still with tears dripping down her cheeks.  

“My dear, to be frank with you, the sole purpose of my visit here was to receive the troops that Prince Baki has promised me. I have no interest in that man otherwise,” Sakura promised her. “But now I cannot leave this place before I know what I can do for you.”

Shijima shook her head. “Oh no, General. I’m… I couldn’t.”

Sakura reached across the table. She grabbed Shijima’s free hand. The girl’s eyes widened.

“You listen to me, little bird. That fool husband of yours calls me ‘cousin’. Then you, as his wife, are also my cousin,” Sakura stated.

“Now. Ask your cousin for help,” Sakura ordered.

Shijima squeezed her eyes shut. Black tears falling into her lap now.

“How can I ask? How can anyone fix this for me?” she whimpered.

To Sakura’s surprise, Gaara got out of his seat. He moved around the table. Kneeling at Shijima’s side, he put his hand on top of her other hand.

“Ask her. She will do it for you,” he murmured.

It took a long time. Especially since Shijima cried even harder at those words. But after several minutes, she managed a shaky:

“Please help me, cousin.”

Sakura gave her a faint smile. She squeezed her hand in hers.

“There we go, my girl. Leave it to me,” she promised.

When Sakura looked around the room, she rethought her words.

“Leave it to us,” Sakura corrected herself.

++++

< Chapter 19 | Chapter 20 | Chapter 21 >

[sockablock]

Once upon a time, @inkedinserendipity tagged me in a post by @superssonica asking what would happen if Caleb got a bit too used to the Polymorph spell. 

Seren, you monster, this one goes out to you: 

- - -

Beau disappears into the clouds below the branches, trailed—then outpaced—by a second crack of thunder.

After a moment, the massive boughs sway. A few leaves tremble, then fall still.

Caduceus takes a seat in the newly-sprung grass. Yasha joins, sheepish at his side.

“My wings were not made for flying,” she mumbles. “I think I will just stay on the ground.”

Nott tugs on Caleb’s sleeve. “I kind of want to go,” she says. “Do you have a way to get us up?”

He follows her gaze. He considers the tree. He mulls over a mental list of spells, then rummages around in his pouch for silken string.

The tiny cocoon gleams silver in the light.

He gives Nott a smile.

“Ja, sure. Hop on.”

—

Caleb is flying. 

He’s never flown before, only seen and heard through Frumpkin’s eyes, back on the safety and security of the ground. But for a person, for a human, for the child of a farmer and a soldier, long ago, he’d like to think that he’s not doing a bad job.

The skies seem to tug at something deep within his soul, something feral and instinctive, something finally freed, something soaring, something lifting, something wild—alive.

In this euphoria, he tucks his wings close, driven on by a craving he’d never felt before. 

He spins into a barrel-roll, diving through the clouds, Nott on his back, screaming—maybe it’s a cheer—all he really knows is the rush of the wind, the thrill of the ether, the endless expanse.

It is beautiful, so high in the clouds.

His mind lets go. There’s no need for control.

It is empty. It is peaceful. 

Serene.

—

Later on, he turns back into the same bird to ferry Beauregard up to the nest. He lingers in the form a bit longer than needed.

It’s to save spell slots. You never know.

—

They arrive in Bazzoxan well after dusk and fall into the first and only bunks they can find. Jester and Caduceus look well enough tapped, and Fjord still occasionally plucks gravel from his chest. Yasha and Beau are as unfazed as ever, but this is as much of a habit as an act. Nott is fretting somewhere in the background, still searching desperately for her flask.

As far as evenings go, this one is fairly standard. It has been nearly a year since the Mighty Nein assembled, and all of these bustling midnight sounds are just a part of the familiar nightly song.

But when the lamplight fades, Caleb cannot sleep. He lies there, unmoving, eyes open in the dark.

He cannot stop thinking about what he’d done that morning. He cannot forget the way that it had felt.

Of course, he cannot forget anything. He’s never been able to, never known how.

But for that a minute, for that hour, for that daydream in the breeze, it had been so wonderfully easy.

—

He changes a few more times during the trip. Once towards the tomb, once within, once to dive past narrow, winding stairs. He mostly sticks to eagles—he knows them, they’re safe, and a part of him fears the uncertainty of other shapes.

He remembers the story that Jester had told about becoming a moth. She hadn’t been able to control her mind. She hadn’t been able to focus her thoughts. He remembers being a giant ape, and knowing nothing but the adrenaline and the bloody haze.

To a wizard, to a scholar, to a son of the fields who’d crawled his way up through sheer brains alone, this is something that rips at his core. It is horrifying. He must avoid it at all costs.

Still, though, he wonders, at dusk, by the campfire, as he stares alone into the flames:

What would it feel like? How far could he go?

His fingers brush a tiny cocoon. It glimmers faint and gold in the light.

—

They go home. To a home, anyways. They report to the Queen and her stance does not change, but Caleb’s convinced that there’s a new nod of care, maybe fondness, for their motley crew. They have continued to serve the Dynasty well. They have continued to help the Krynn win the war.

And gods, if the reports can be believed, the Krynn are winning this war. 

She allows him to see the Vollstrecker. 

Caleb’s soul is still rattled when finally, he leaves.

—

He goes to bed alone that night, alone in his room on the first floor of their house. 

His mind is a well of isolation and regret, of a churning desire for a wish he’ll never have, of plans and ruminations, more distant by the hour, of dreams, calculations, memories long and past, all flooding, all filling, overflowing, overmuch, much, much too much—

He drags his fingers down the sides of his head, sweat dripping from the tangle of his hair.

He needs air. Breathe. He needs air.

Below the silence of the ever-present moon, his footsteps creak against a polished floor. His palm brushes the smooth wooden banister, and then he reaches the stairs to the roof.

He opens the door.

He inhales, below the tree.

The little globes of daylight are dormant at this hour, still and cold beneath the stars.

Caleb looks up into the branches across the sky. Their tree is not nearly as large, as enormous, but still, it is familiar all the same. It makes him think...it makes him remember...

"But not a bird if it’s night,” he murmurs. “Something else, something...”

Ah, yes.

He reaches into his little leather pouch. He pulls out another silk cocoon.

He’ll have to pick up more, soon. But that is a problem for another time.

Polymorph trips off the curve of his tongue like a dream he’s dreamt a thousand times before.

And then he is nothing but a tiny, squeaking bat, a single lone heartbeat aflutter in the night.

—

The spell lasts an hour. 

—

If you cast it once.

—

That next morning, Caduceus makes breakfast. Caleb trudges down the stairs.

“Hey, what’s up with you?” Beau asks, as he pulls up a chair and collapses against the table. “Did you sleep bad? You look like shit.”

“Thank you, Beauregard,” he mutters, and pulls a mug of...of something, to his face. “Your razor-like honesty is always appreciated.”

“Alright, fuck me for asking,” she scowls, and turns around to harass Fjord instead. 

Nott, seated across the table, is feeding something to Yeza. It is amazing, the change he brings to her.

Caleb’s gaze drifts away. He focuses on a faint spiral in the wood, a little point of difference in a world of smooth grain.

After a while, he is aware of someone calling his name. He jerks up, just in time to see a fried egg slide onto his plate.

“Didn’t sleep well?” Caduceus asks kindly. “You, ah, I hope you don’t mind my saying, but you seem a bit tired, today.”

Caleb gives him a weak smile. “Ja, I stayed up last night. Working on...working on magic,” he adds.

Technically, it is not a lie.

However, Caduceus is hard to talk around. His eyes give a flicker, and though he doesn’t argue, it certainly doesn’t seem like he is fully convinced.

Still, he gives a nod. He moves on to feed the others.

Caleb feels guilty, and he isn’t sure why.

Then again, he muses, stabbing at his plate, there’s a lot for him to be guilty for.

He sinks just a bit lower in his chair.

— 

They decide, unanimously, that despite the uncertainty, they desperately need a break before heading to the north. Another week wouldn’t be too bad, adds Jester, so one more week of downtime is had. Almost immediately afterwards, Beau grabs Fjord to train in the cellar, saying something about—I can’t let Dairon down. Nott and Yeza disappear to the lab, to steal every moment they can before they part ways. Jester and Caduceus opt for some therapeutic shopping, leaving Caleb by himself, alone with his own devices.

Three months ago, that wouldn’t have been so bad.

He drifts around for a bit, idly doing tasks, re-sorting the library and polishing the windows, making his bed and then stopping to make the others’. He even takes a whole hour to scrub their tub, draining out the water and rolling up his sleeves, getting down on both knees and working the basin with a towel.

It is noon by the time he is finished. There are still seven more hours until sundown. 

There are still one hundred and fifty-one until their week-long vacation ends.

Caleb sits down at the edge of the pool. His fingers run aimless across the soapy rag as he tries desperately to think of more to do.

He even briefly debates seeing Essek. 

After a little while, he stands up. 

It is pointless. Nothing is as good.

—

“—and we’ve got a deal on clay, too. Great for Earthquakes, Feeble Mind, Shaping Stone, if that’s something you’re interested in. Only 10 silver for a—no?”

“No, no,” Caleb says quickly, carefully pouring the silk threads into his pouch. “Thank you, but I am well-stocked in that...regard. Er...thank you, madam.”

“Well, if you change your mind,” says the goblin, waving her hand and watching him go. “Come back soon, you know where to find me!”

Caleb does. 

And he is sure that he will.

—

He deliberates only a few minutes more as he stands atop the stone wall along their tower. It is dark in Rhosana, that is the problem, otherwise a bird would be the obvious choice. Then he thinks harder, and laughs at his own foolishness, and smashes the silver cocoon in his hands.

His wings spread wide, don’t make a sound.

His eyes, large, yellow, seeing all, drink in the energy and movement of a city that he—for now—does not entirely understand.

—

He comes home that night feeling mildly rumpled, somewhat wind-swept, all his spells spent. Still he agrees, as he collapses at the dinner table, that was a long afternoon well-spent. Caduceus is cooking again, of course he is, though Nott is assisting and Jester offers advice. 

The food is amazing, once it is complete. Though he eats much, much much more than he usually would, a fact that a number of his friends pick up on.

“Did you and Essek bone or something?” Beau asks. “Dude, chill out, there’s plenty more where that came from.”

Jester snickers as Fjord thumps him on the back, giving him a sympathetic hand.

“I did not,” Caleb says, affronted, and coughs one more time just for good measure. “I can assure you, we did nothing of the sort.”

“So what did you do?” Caduceus asks. His eyes, usually so dazed and relaxed, have focused onto Caleb with an uncomfortable accuracy. Damn the priest, Caleb thinks. What is this? A confession?

“We just reviewed dunamantic basics,” he murmurs, well aware of how it sounds to Jester. “I do not have any spell slots left, but I can certainly show you at a later time.”

“Firing blanks now?” Beau asks with false sympathy. “He must have really worked you hard.”

Caleb groans, and deliberately turns so that he cannot see her. Even Nott is grinning at him widely, seemingly pleased at the idea of...well, of whatever they think that he is doing. 

He wonders, idly, as the conversation shifts to other inane topics, if this is because she is gently, in her own way, trying to let him go. 

After all, she has Yeza now. She has a son she needs to go home to. She has a mission she needs to accomplish.

Caleb is supposed to have one too. But at some point during the months that have passed, he is trying less and less to think about it.

He has a feeling he knows why, but that does not make it any better.

—

That evening, his mind churns again. But he is exhausted, and depleted of his spells. He has to force himself to rest, even a short nap will do. He lies there in bed, undreaming, for hours, until he is finally dormant long enough to tap into his old training and conjure up a burst of magic.

It is just enough for one final spell. Time to make it count.

He closes his eyes.

He curls up against the mattress, and imagines what it would like to be Frumpkin.

—

There is no sunlight in this city, which means no morning gleam through the windows, but the distant hum of activity in the house, the far-off clamor of voices and life, signals to Caleb that the day has now begun.

And Frumpkin is there. Asleep against the covers, but stirs when Caleb starts to shift.

Very quickly, he is up and locking eyes with his wizard, draping across his lap and purring up a storm.

The sleep-muddled curve of Caleb’s mouth forms a smile. He runs his fingers across Frumpkin’s scalp, gently strokes his thumb against his cat’s fur.

“Dir auch einen guten morgen,” he murmurs. “I thought you were out enjoying yourself in the city.”

Frumpkin mrows in response and rolls over onto his back.

There is a moment, and then suddenly, Caleb frowns.

“Was? What are you talking about? Do not be silly, everything is fine.”

He absently scritches the fur on Frumpkin’s chest. But now his rhythm is a little unsteady.

“I am not sure what you mean,” he adds, after another pause for silence. 

Frumpkin purrs. He opens one eye and peers at Caleb.

“I am not,” Caleb says. 

Frumpkin turns over. Caleb scowls.

“I do not see why this is any of your business. And even if I was doing for that reason, it is not a harmful habit. I am just taking advantage of the skills I have learned. There is nothing wrong with that.”

Frumpkin stares until Caleb can no longer stand it. Brow furrowed, he plucks his cat from his lap and drops him onto the bed.

He says:

“I need some time alone. Do not bother me.”

—

Frumpkin is a familiar, bound by an eldritch pact. He cannot allow his master to come to harm, and he cannot disobey Caleb’s commands.

He cannot disobey Caleb’s commands. He cannot allow his master to come to harm.

Frumpkin is a familiar, and they had made a pact.

Then again, Frumpkin is also fey. 

And fey do not take “no” for an answer.

—

“Gods above,” Beau grumbles, leaping to the side, “hey, jeez, calm down, already. What’s gotten into you?”

Frumpkin sits back on his haunches and yowls purposely at her knees. His tail lashes through the air impatiently.

Beau scratches the top of her head.

“Are you trying to tell me something? What’s wrong?”

She can swear that the feline is rolling his eyes. She crouches down and frowns at him.

“Is...oh, shit, is it Caleb? Where is he? Is he alright?”

—

The spell that Jester and Caduceus had woven into the ribbons of daylight on their tree illuminates the top of the tower for a few hours every day. 

It is the closest thing that Rhosana has to sun, to a good and honest warmth. Caleb had decided, just minutes ago, to utilize this to its fullest potential.

He is content, here. He is basking, and at peace.

And then, just at the edge of his hearing, there is a faint disturbance.

“—what, that? Are you sure?”

The voice is familiar. Right now, Caleb can’t seem to remember whose it is, but he is vaguely irritated. It had been so quiet before, it had been so calm—

“You have to be really sure. I’m not gonna kill a random lizard.”

His little reptilian heartbeat leaps. He can sense a shadow looming over him now, all his instincts scream to run—

“Alright, alright, calm down, I’m doin’ it—”

—his muscles bunch, he gets ready to jump—

And a hand descends from the heavens above, the edge colliding with Caleb’s spine, there’s one second of awful, horrible pain, of a bright-yellow smudge staining the rocks, and then he is growing, aching, stretching, tumbling onto two legs, not four, glaring up in a light too bright and snarling at the unmoving face of Beau.

Now the physical is secondary. His mind is back, and it is angry.

“Arschgesicht! I had forty-two minutes on that spell!”

Beau doesn’t flinch. She doesn’t even respond. Instead, in true Cobalt Soul fashion, she stares him down with such a gaze that for but a second, Caleb almost feels sheepish.

Then the furry bubbles right back to the surface.

“Why did you do that?” he demands. “Beauregard, why would you interrupt me?”

“Uh, what exactly did I interrupt?” Her eyebrows are raised, her chin turned up. “Caleb, what the fuck were you doing?”

“I was—I—magic!” he shouts. He gestures wildly to the smooth stones. “I was just practicing my spells! You know you are not supposed to interfere!”

He feels something dull at the back of his skull. It is like a pressure, though rapidly fading, and as he whirls around towards the source, he just sees the tip of a ginger tail vanishing down the tower stairs.

He almost shouts. He does not, but almost. He begins to storm off towards the door, his foot falls once, hard, into the grass, but then comes a grip like iron against his wrist.

Beauregard always says that her hands are her weapons. Even Caleb, in this state, remembers this well.

“Good gods,” she says, eyebrows rising further. “Dude, seriously, what’s up with you? Why’re you pissed? You can cast it again, can’t you?”

“Yes, Beauregard,” he manages, “yes, of course, of course I can. But that is not the point, here. The point is that Frumpkin disobeyed what I said, and, and coerced you to come here. I know you are innocent here, but he—”

“Wow.”

Caleb pauses.

“‘Wow’ what?”

Beau lets go of his wrist. She takes a step back, crosses her arms, looks him over with the sudden terrible stare of understanding. “Damn, dude, I came up here because I thought you were in trouble. That something was attacking you, or something’. But I guess trouble comes in different forms, huh?”

Caleb frowns. “What do you mean?”

She points at the rocks, where he had been resting. “Sometimes it’s a lizard. I’m guessing sometimes it’s a bird? A giant one, with eagle-wings?”

His eyes narrow. “I do not know what you are talking about.”

“Yeah, well, I barely do either, but Frumpkin seems to think there’s something wrong. With you, I mean. And I guess with your spells.”

“There is nothing wrong with me. And there is no reason for you to think that.”

She leans in.

“You and your cat are telepathically linked.”

“And? What of it?”

“If there was something goin’ on in your head, don’t you think he would have noticed?”

“He is overreacting,” Caleb huffs, “there is nothing—”

“Come on, man, this is Frumpkin. He cares about you, he’s just worried. And honestly, based on the way you’re acting, I’m starting to worry too.”

Caleb stops.

He goes still.

His gaze falls to the ground.

“Ja, well,” he murmurs. “Perhaps you should not bother.”

To his amazement, Beau rolls her eyes.

“Aw, come on,” she says, stepping forward. “Don’t play that face with me, alright?” She prods him in the chest. “Alright, spill. What’s up? Are you still pissed about that Scourger that got caught?”

Caleb sighs. “No, no, that is not it. It is…” He pinches the bridge of his nose. “It is just...other things. You know.”

“I don’t.”

He inhales. Then he sags, finally defeated.

“Ja. Ja, I suppose that is true.”

He watches her cross her arms.

“I won’t know unless you tell me,” she says. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

He feels the last of the rage drain away. His stares intently at the dirt.

“It is...I believe it is everything. Everything that has been happening. Everything that has happened.”

He falls quiet.

“I think it may be too much.”

Beau gives him a very level stare.

Eventually, she gestures to the stones. Warm under the glow of light made by a friend.

“Alright,” she says. “Fine. Let’s talk.”

They both sit. It is quiet, for a moment. And then, Caleb sighs one last time, and speaks:

“We are in a very strange place. And we are trying to...we are trying to do some very big things. Things that...as every day goes by, seem more and more impossible to accomplish.”

Beau leans against the bark of the tree.

“Yeah, I…feel you there.”

Caleb raises an eyebrow.

“What did your mentor say, by the way? How much does she know about...about the things we have done?”

Beau meets his gaze, eyes blank and cool.

“Oh, no. We’re doing your problems now. We can talk about all that later.”

Despite everything, this makes Caleb laugh. It’s nothing more than a faint chuckle, but Beau smiles back, gives him a nod.

“C’mon,” she says. “Go on. Keep going.”

Caleb tilts his head up to the boughs of the gnarled tree.

“I am...well, I am not sure. Not really. I do not think I have been, for a long time. And…seeing that V—that Scourger, it made me realize that…that for all of my memory, all my knowledge, for all the things I had swimming in my head, I realize now that I did not really have to think. I just...really, I just had to believe. I had to obey what my Lehrer—teacher, said. Really, I was not expected to think. And everything, for all its complications, everything was so, so simple.”

He glances down at the ground. Tufts of grass lay silent below his feet.

“Today, my friend, today they are not. We are...we are trying to do very big things. And we are trying to help many people. And I think that is good. Really, I do. And I think it has given me...in some ways, a...a goal. Something that seems a bit more feasible, anyway.”

“More realistic then bending reality.”

He gives a faint smile.

“Ja, you could put it that way. But, ah...but as you can likely see, that goal has gotten slightly more...complicated. And trying to stay on the right path...even finding that path itself, is not a straightforward process. It requires thought. It requires so much thought. And now, after everything, after all we have seen and tried to do, I believe...I am sure...that I am just tired of thinking.”

Beau nods sagely as his voice trails away.

“Okay,” she shrugs. “Then you should just stop.”

Caleb blinks.

“Jus—what?”

Beau sighs. “I…I dunno, man. I think, honestly, I think that’s all you need. To stop thinking about all that shit. Not—” she adds hastily, “—not in the way that you’re doing with the lizards. Not like that. But just...I dunno. When you’re being you.”

“But when I am me, I cannot do that,” Caleb says. “I have a perfect memory, Beauregard. There is nothing I can forget.”

“Oh, wow, look at you. Wow. I’m so impressed.”

“Beauregard—”

She grins and raises her hands. “Sorry, sorry, I couldn’t resist. But, uh...yeah. I guess that makes sense. That...that sounds pretty rough, dude. If I had a record of my greatest failures playing all the time in my head, I think I’d go pretty crazy too.”

Caleb raises an eyebrow.

“Now I am confused,” he says. “Is this conversation supposed to help me?”

Beau throws her arms into the air.

“Hell, I dunno,” she says. “I’m not the feelings expert, or whatever. I’ve just seen people do this kind of shit before. You’re supposed to talk things out, right? That’s supposed to...I dunno, fix things, or something?”

“Is it?” Caleb asks, incredulous. “Who told you that?”

She scratches the back of her neck. “Uh...I dunno. Probably Caduceus.”

“That seems like something that he would say.”

They fall silent for a few moments after that, drinking in the sunlight and the distant city sounds.

Then Beau says:

“I wasn’t lying, though. I don’t really know what it’s like to feel like you. I can’t imagine having a brain like yours. But...but I do kind of know what you’re going through.” He glances over, and she nods. “Yeah. I do. I think...I think it’s a pretty common thing. Maybe not in such perfect detail, but...it can be hard to stop thinking about all the times you’ve fucked up. And it can be even harder when you know that, uh...when it feels like the fate of a hundred thousand souls rests on every stupid decision that you make.”

“We have made many stupid decisions, eh?”

“God, you’re telling me?” Beau groans. The back of her head rests against the tree. “I’m amazed Dairon didn’t kill me. And honestly, I’m amazed all of us are still alive. But...I mean...I guess that’s just it, right? We’re still alive. We’re still here. And, most important, we’re still truckin’.”

She tilts one eye towards Caleb.

“We’re still here, and we’re still trying to figure it out. As shitty as it is, sometimes. As much as...as much as it hurts. And as tired as we get. We haven’t given up, and we’re still alive. Seriously, think about it in math. The odds are definitely that we should’ve died by now.”

He can’t help but snort. “Ja, absolut.”

“But we aren’t,” Beau shrugs. “And as shitty as that is, as much as it hurts, as fuckin’ terrible as it can sometimes be...that means we still have a chance. To do...whatever it is that we’re supposed to do. Or not supposed to do. And I always get pissed when people tell that I’m lucky for it, or whatever, but...I dunno. Maybe we are. And maybe it’s rotten luck for the world that it’s us, but...here we are. All of us, here we are. And...and we’ve got each other. And I won’t pretend to know what I’m doing, and I definitely don’t know...not really, how to help, but, uh. I’m here for you. Okay? Whatever...whatever you need. As long as it’s not bullshit—" she raises an eyebrow, Caleb chuckles. 

“—but yeah. Seriously. I’m here. And I’ll always listen, whenever I can.”

She leans back against the bark. She closes her eyes and gives a nod.

“I mean that,” she says. “I really do.”

Caleb feels the sunlight glow against his skin, feels the warmth of its whisper brushing across his face. And there’s another light too, maybe brighter, maybe warmer, coming from either side of his form—it’s the gentle sigh of a shoulder pressed against his own, and the curling, purring softness, of a cat beneath his hands.

He glances down at Frumpkin. Then he turns to look at Beau.

Here we are. All of us, here we are.

Very, very slowly, he closes his eyes.

And it isn’t the cure. Not by a long shot.

But certainly, it’s a start.

[bathroomsaustpek]

PHOENIX TOI VESSEL Tall Basin Mixer Taps