#Castle: Lucky Stiff

[renegadesstuff]

“You just can't stay out of my personal life, can you? Thank you. It's really sweet.” 🥰

S3E14, “Lucky Stiff” aired 13 years ago (February 7, 2011) 💛

[zephyrchama]

Movie Night with Diavolo and Barbatos

A self-indulgent fic (under the read more) inspired by the The Brothers' Hobbies Devilgram story.

SFW fluff, gender neutral reader, it's like 1.5k words long? I just threw together whatever because I wanted to imagine a cozy movie night.

Very few beings in either of the three realms ever got to witness Diavolo or Barbatos in their pajamas. You were the lucky soul who got to see both as they guided you through the castle for a special movie marathon night. Sweatpants and a loose robe were a nice change of pace from the usual stiff-collared uniforms Diavolo typically wore. He excited donned the dragon slippers you gifted him once. Barbatos had his matching owl slippers on under a slimmer, flowier set of pajamas with matching button-up top and bottoms. The fabric looked incredibly smooth, with not a single wrinkle.

The room they led you to was dimly lit. The curtains were drawn so that starlight couldn’t shine through the windows, in front of which were various stacks of DVDs as tall as you. A plush three-person couch had been placed right in the room’s center, squarely in front of a projector that took up an entire wall. In the back of the room closest to where you all entered was a table piled high with treats. Most of it was an approximation of human world movie snacks, but Barbatos had clearly done his best.

"Are those nachos?" You asked. "Pretzels and popcorn... That's so many toppings... M&Ms!? Really? Are those real?"

Barbatos chuckled. "Indeed. Seeing your face light up was worth all the effort to procure them. Please, take as much as you'd like."

Barbatos and Diavolo went to claim their seats on either side of the couch, but encouraged you to take your time with the food. Diavolo clutched a half dozen blockbuster movies in his hand.

“Will you get a plate for me too? I can’t decide what we should start with.” He hummed and hawed, turning each package over to read their summaries.

By the time you were ready, Diavolo had made a choice and loaded up the movie’s main menu. You carried the heaping plates over with enough food for everyone. They each offered to hold them while you sat down.

There was not a lot of room to sit. Despite seating three, Diavolo could have taken up half of the couch by himself and Barbatos was being unusually liberal with how much space he took up. They happily motioned for you to take a seat, Diavolo grinning like a kid.

You sandwiched yourself between them as best you could, wiggling until your back touched cushions. It felt awkward basically distributing your weight over the side of their laps, but neither one made any outward signs of acknowledgement. It was very warm between the two demons. With your thighs brushing those on either side of you, you could confirm their pajamas really were soft. It was incredibly cozy. They both smelled like a recent shower.

“Ready?” DIavolo asked once you were settled in with your plate. “I thought we’d start with an action film to really kick things off on a high note. Let’s begin!”

The bright film cast a gentle light over the three of you. Every time something exploded or a twist occurred, Diavolo would whoop and laugh. He was a very expressive movie watcher.

“This is rather delicious,” he commented in a low voice after cleaning his plate. Diavolo leaned into your ear, bumping your shoulder with his own.“Mind if I try some of yours?”

“Feel free. Barbatos, you too.” There was plenty left, not to mention the entire table of food. Every few minutes his highness would pluck a chip or handful of chocolates off your plate. You realized shortly before the credits that it should have run out already with the two of you constantly snacking. Was it refilling itself?

You turned to Barbatos. His eyes were already transfixed on you instead of the projector, as if you were the night’s main event. “Is something wrong?”

You pointed to the magic plate. “Are you doing this?”

He merely smiled, neither confirming or denying. You softly nudged him in the side in appreciation as he whispered, “if there’s anything you need, just ask.”

As the action flick finally ended, Diavolo leaned forward to browse through the other movies. “What shall we watch next? Romance? Comedy?” He asked as you took advantage of the extra space to stretch.

“I believe romance and comedy often go together, so we could watch both genres at once,” Barbatos said.

“Oh! What about this? It’s very famous, right?” Diavolo thrust an old horror movie at you. You’d heard the name before and vaguely knew its plot, but never actually saw it.

”Yeah, everyone in the human world knows that movie.”

“Then we’ll go with this!”

He loaded it up, while Barbatos sifted through the pile and pulled out a disk. “Let us put this romance comedy on standby.”

The horror movie was way scarier than you thought. Weren’t old films supposed to have cheesy graphics and a now-overdone plot? This was gory and dark. Barbatos and Diavolo were actually laughing at the chainsaw-wielding maniac on screen. “Hilarious! I thought the comedy was after this?” Diavolo exclaimed. You realized once again that demons were not normal.

You put on a brave face and powered through the movie, intent on not ruining their good time. But a particular jumpscare caught you off-guard, prompting a shriek as you shakily turned away from the movie. That turned all the attention on to you. “Sorry, sorry. Don’t mind me, just surprised me,” you stammered.

“Do you find this scary?” Diavolo asked. “This silly thing?”

Barbatos apologized, saying “I hadn’t considered this could be distressing for you. I’ll turn it off immediately.”

“No, it’s fine! We can keep watching,” you insisted while diverting your eyes from the scene on the screen.

Diavolo grabbed your hand. “Nothing could possibly hurt you when we’re here. Isn’t that right, Barbatos? Why, I dare say you’re with the two strongest men in the whole Devildom. We could stop a thousand of these murderous humans.” His lighthearted smile was reassuring as always as he belted out another laugh.

“Would it help if we held your hands?” Barbatos suggested. It was a childish recommendation, but tempting nonetheless. “We could even lock arms, and if the film becomes too much, you can rely on one of us to block it out for you.”

That sounded agreeable, and you approved of it just to get their attention back to the movie. You were thankful the two self-professed strongest demons in the realm would be so accommodating for you. Though embarrassing at first, it did help to bury your head in one of their sides any time things got too horrific.

Any time you jumped towards Diavolo, he would wrap his arm around your shoulders and bring you in closer for a comforting side hug. He’d make small comments, “this actor is very good, does he have any other famous works? I wonder if they filmed this on a set,” so you could focus on the sound of his voice instead of the televised screams.

Any time you jumped towards Barbatos, he would cover your ears and bring your forehead against his chest. It helped to focus on the calm, steady beating of his heart until the scene ended. One hand would gently brush through your hair and down your back until you were composed again.

This film was thankfully shorter than the first one. As you excused yourself to the restroom, you heard Diavolo comment about how it was “too short,” with Barbatos agreeing it was “more fun than expected.” You hoped they really meant the movie, and not the way you acted.

Upon returning, Barbatos had prepared a large fluffy blanket.

“It’s getting quite late, and as you know the Devildom gets rather cold at night.”

You doubted you could get cold while wedged between these two on a sofa. Though, It did add to the movie viewing experience.

The third movie was, as expected, much lighter and more enjoyable. You could laugh along with them and at times explain aspects of human culture important to the plot. 

“If she doesn’t want her ex to show up, why doesn’t she just cast a warding spell? Such an easy solution.”

“Humans usually can’t cast magic. Until I got here, I didn’t even know magic was real.”

”Oh! Right.”

Maybe it was all the food, or the addition of the blanket, or the overall coziness of the situation. Your eyelids were starting to get heavy and interest in the film was waning. “Hey, I know we’re only on the third movie, but how many of these are we watching tonight?”

Diavolo stared at you. “As many as we can! We have all those.” He gestured to the massive collection by the windows.

”My lord, some will have to wait until next week.”

“Right, but the night is still young!”

You were at a loss for words. It had been five hours so far. “I don’t… Uh… I���ll try my best, but like, I don’t know if I can stay up that long,” you admitted. Did these two ever even sleep? They were in pajamas, so maybe?

“That is a problem.” Barbatos seemed troubled, unable to think of a solution that didn’t involve delaying their schedule.

“Well, let’s just keep going,” Diavolo offered. “It can’t be helped if you’re tired, but we can still get through what we can. I greatly enjoy having you here! Both as a friend and to clarify what’s happening.” He ruffled your hair before turning his eyes back to the screen.

Before you realized it, you were waking up from a snug slumber. You don’t remember falling asleep, only that you guys had finished the romantic comedy and started on something sci-fi with robots.

On the screen now was a documentary about birds.

“Oh, awake now? This movie’s getting really good, I think you’ll like it.” You were more focused on how nonchalant Lord Diavolo was acting about being your pillow. You quickly and apologetically lifted your head from his lap.

Barbatos had apparently moved you into a more comfortable position while you slept, as the lower half of your body was in his lap as well. He helped you sit up, “careful not to fall now. But yes, this film is most fascinating. Can I get you anything? Some water?”

There were half a dozen questions running through your mind, but the first one out was “what time is it?”

“6:15am, nearly time for the Young Master to begin his day.”

DIavolo huffed. He couldn’t fight the looming workload he had to deal with, so he popped a potato chip into his mouth instead. Despite your insistence that you would sit normally, the two of them equally insisted you lay down and stay comfortable for the remainder of the documentary. It was peaceful.

When all was done, Barbatos procured everyone a change of clothes and started wrapping up the food table. First pick of leftovers went to you. “Would you like to take it all?” he asked.

“Don’t think I can finish all that, but Beel can help me.”

Diavolo went to change in the other room, but called out, “There's still so much we have to watch, and I'd like to go back over the ones you missed! What do you say, same plans for next week? Same day, same time?”

That sounded good to you.

---

(Thanks for reading!) (bonus pic I wanted to put in the text but didn't want to interrupt the story)

[shanastoryteller]

Merry Christmas Grandma!! Three faced goddess was so cool?!? I need to know what happens next!🎅🏻☃️

a continuations of 1 2

Tony thinks that it’s probably selfish of him (knows that it’s selfish of him) but he never wanted to be king.

It wasn’t even an option, really. Greg was so much older than him and hated him from the day he was born. He thought that a spare made him expendable and he’d always hated that, even though Tony was so clearly not planned.

He’d been right, in the end.

There should have been more of them, Tony should have grown up with plenty of siblings, because everyone says that the Starks rule by divine right and the lack of Starks really makes the devout nervous. But his mother had struggled to have Greg and ten years later they’d thought having Tony really would kill her.

Before the accident and he’d had a crown forced on his head, he’d thought that would be his real contribution to the kingdom. Marrying who he was told and having a half dozen or so kids to run through the castle so people would stop fretting.

Then he was the last Stark left alive and there was a war and even though he knew he had a duty to secure the line of succession, it just didn’t seem possible. Turning a foreign royal or one of his own ambitious nobles into a princess and mother of his children had sounded fine, had been something he’d discussed with Rhodey as they plotted and planned how to live their lives outside the constraints of propriety.

But making one of them his queen? Impossible.

He needs someone he can trust to rule, in case the worst should happen. He needs someone who he can trust to rule even if it shouldn’t, so he has the freedom to actually help with this war that he’s found himself in the middle of instead of staying safe and useless in the castle.

Rhodey could help manage his soldiers and plan their battles and would stay by his side every minute that he could, but Tony needed something more, something that he never would have needed if he’d simply stayed a prince.

He needed a wife he could trust.

He got so, so lucky with Pepper.

“I met your champion,” she says, curled into his side with her head on his chest. He always runs hot now with the star living under his skin. It’s a cold night but they’re only covered by a sheet, trapping the heat he gives off around them. “Very pretty.”

“Hey,” he says, but he’s smiling. “He is that. Does he seem like he’s doing okay? I feel bad having him fight so soon, but he insisted. I guess it’s familiar.”

“War is war,” she agrees. “Yes. He spoke fondly of you.”

He blinks down at her, perplexed. “He did?”

Pepper’s lips twitch. “Edward you. He did make a pointed comment about the king’s absence that I graciously ignored.”

He saw Steve literally two days ago! But he is missing some important information. “It’s not my fault I met him as Edward first! You know they found him at the edge of the North border and he literally fought his way through battle that was in his way? Who does that? If I showed up seventy years in the future I’d need a stiff drink and a nap before anything else not to jump into work.”

“You know he needs the distraction,” she says. He’s trying to work on that but it’s hard when there’s a literal war going on. When it’s over, they’ll all get a chance to rest. “You could tell him the truth.”

No one knows the truth, not all of it, except for Rhodey and Pepper. “He already worries about me too much – both as Edward and the Iron Mage. If he knows not only are they same person, but also the king he’s duty bound to serve and protect, it’ll make things complicated. Too many conflicting orders.”

“Yeah,” Pepper says, soft and teasing, “that will make things complicated.”

[oatmilkriver]

you are in love- draco malfoy

pairing: draco malfoy x gn!reader

summary: you both realize how much you mean to the other after a night by yourselves

warnings: none i think

word count: 544

author's note: hope you like it!!

This was Draco’s favorite time of the day. When classes were over and dinner was eaten, leaving the dorms empty while his friends hung out around the castle.

Except for you. You and him would always come to his dorm and just lay around doing nothing.

And it was perfect.

Because the only thing he had to focus on was you.

You had a routine that carried a certain domesticity about it. You walking into the room, not even bothering to knock because you knew he would always let you in. Walking straight to his dresser and pulling out a shirt, walking to the bathroom to change and come out wearing his shirt rather than the stiff button up and tie.

“It's way comfier than anything I own” you would say to defend yourself when he gave you a look.

He’d be lucky if he saw it ever again. Not that he minds, of course.

Then you climb into bed next to him, getting comfortable but giving him space. Space that Draco had to fight not to close.

He watches as you move his pillows to be the perfect shape before you lay your head down and look at him.

He lays down along with you, smiling at you. Letting out a sigh as he finally relaxes for the first time that day.

That's when you reach your hand out and brush some hair away from his forehead, “Rough day?”

Draco nods slowly, leaning into your hand, opening his mouth but not letting the words come out.

“You can let go when your around me, you know. You don't have to hold to all these fears, all these ghosts, by yourself,”

And so he didn't hold back. He talked and talked about everything that was happening in his life, the good, the bad. And you just played there and listened, stroking his arm and holding his hand until he fell asleep. Following him shortly after.

When he did finally wake up, hours later when the sun is slowly starting to peak out through the windows, he looks at your head resting on his chest and smiles, pushing your away away from your face.

You stir slightly and flutter your eyes open to look up at him, a smile on your face.

“You're my best friend,” he whispers so softly you almost miss it.

But he knows you didn't when you smile at him, “I would hope so,”

This causes Draco to just chuckle and bring you closer to him, kissing your temple, “I mean it! There's no one I would rather spend my time with. These quiet moments by ourselves are the best memories I have.”

You smile, not sure how to respond but knowing you felt the exact same way. So instead, you look between his lips and his eyes, asking a question you've been dying to ask since you were kids.

And Draco just smiles in return, holding your face and bringing you closer to him till your noses brushed. And with one last look in each others eyes, you both leaned forward, connecting your lips in a kiss that was long overdue.

And when you finally pull apart, soft smiles and blushes mirroring each others, you know, you are in love.

[lulublack90]

Prompt 15 - Drive

@jegulus-microfic May 15, Word count 734

Previous part First part

“Stop fiddling with it,” James warned as he watched Regulus poke the leaf with his tongue. 

“I can’t help it,” Regulus whined. Over the past few weeks, Regulus had opened up a bit to James and, apparently, underneath all that snark, he was a whiny little brat. Just like his brother. James honestly didn’t know how he coped with both of them. “Are you going to get the dew tonight?” Regulus asked, finally done with prodding at the leaf. 

“Mmhmm,” James nodded. He’d have to go into the forest this evening to be able to walk far enough in to find somewhere human feet or sunlight had never touched, and he’d be exhausted by the time he got back to the castle, but he’d cleverly picked a weekend to do it so no one would notice if he slept in.

A cold wind had swept over the grounds and only James’s sheer will kept the invisibility cloak from soaring off into the darkening grounds. He swore he spent most of his time out here when it was dark. 

Once he was hidden by the tree line, the wind couldn't hit him as hard. He whipped off the cloak and stuffed it into his robes. He walked a bit further in before transforming into the magnificent stag, as his white tail would be a beacon in the gloom for anyone watching. 

It felt good to be Prongs. His feet, while dainty, were strong and somehow always knew where to step, even on the most uneven ground. He had to be careful of his antlers catching on low branches, but he’d gotten pretty good at running through the forest and not letting that happen. His ears pricked as a knarl scuttled out from the undergrowth, snorted at him and continued on its way. He wasn’t sure if it knew he was an animagus or if it just didn’t like stags. Either way, it was gone now. He picked up the jar he’d brought with him between his teeth and walked into the gloom. 

He’d selected a wide-brimmed specimen jar, so that he could easily manoeuvre it in his animal form. Remus had even marked on the side of it how much he’d need to collect to fill seven teaspoons. Remus had also added a stiff handle that he could grasp it with his teeth.

It took him hours to get into a part of the forest where the undergrowth was so thick a human would give up trying to get through it and so dark he couldn’t see the sky. It was perfect. 

Lucky for him, Prongs’s legs walked over the undergrowth as though it were nothing. He found a plant with huge leaves and dropped the jar beside it. Now for the hard part. He lowered himself to the ground and with his teeth grabbed the giant cork protruding out of the neck and yanked it free. 

He placed it under one of the huge leaves and gently shook the leaf. A few drops fell into the jar. He tried again and soon had all the dew off that leaf safe in the jar. He moved on to the next one. 

It took him far longer to collect enough dew than it had to get through the forest. The amount of dew had just risen above the line Remus had drawn, when his ears twitched and his body tensed. There was something here with him and his animal self was telling him to run. He fought it and waited. 

Silently, he replaced the jar's cork and held the handle tightly between his teeth. 

A twig snapped close by and the drive to flee became too much. He spun around and fled. 

A roar followed him as he darted between trees with his head down. He had no idea what had been stalking him, but he wasn’t hanging around to find out. He didn’t dare look back and pushed on. His jaw clamped down hard as he leapt into the air over a fallen branch, and continued running. 

The relief that flooded him when he broke through the tree line and the morning sun-soaked castle burst into view was indescribable. 

He trotted over to the greenhouses and transformed. He was sweaty and exhausted but as he held up the jar in front of himself, a huge grin spread across his face. He hadn’t spilt a drop.  

Next part

[coyohte]

Stana Katic as Kate Beckett | Castle Season 3x14: Lucky Stiff 💃

SHE’S SO HOT 😫

[impulsesimp]

the aftermath of the qsmp election debates...

roier wakes up on the server in his and cellbit's room. he blinks until his eyes adjust to the sunlight that shined through the open balcony doors. he stretches his muscles, feeling the stiffness of his days-long slumber. roier rolls around in the sun warmed sheets of the large mattress, made for two.

para dos, roier thinks. he smiles into the pillow as he becomes aware of the ring that hugs snuggly around his finger.

the thought of his new husband gets him onto his feet. he yawns and stretches again as he drags himself out of the bedroom.

"gatinho?" he calls out as he walks the castle halls. the castle was still pretty foreign to roier. the elongated halls and random twists and turns made him mindlessly round corners with the hope that he was somewhat headed in the right direction.

as he turns down a hall, he sees the balcony that looks down into the foyer. roier peers over the edge, and at one of the many chairs of the paperwork-littered table, he sees the top of cellbit's overgrown hair.

"gatinhoooo." roier's voice echoes down before roier picks up a faster pace down the stairs. with a bit of a hop in his step, he makes his way to the opposite side of the table that cellbit was seated at.

"buenos días, mi marido. dormido mucho tiempo, ¿eh?" roier skitters to a stop when cellbit lifts his head from the journal he was scribbling in. roier's natural smile falls and his jaw slacks. roier is speechless and his stomach pits with sudden dread.

in front of him, cellbit sighs and stands from his seat. he runs a hand through his frizzy hair, the push back of the locks exposing the fresh scars even further.

cellbit watches with quiet anxiety as roier's eyes frantically scan over him. he follows roier's slow movements as the man circles around the table to stand in front of his disheveled husband. cellbit feels the weight of guilt begin to sink in him as roier's eyes flick up to the singular heart that floats above his head.

"dios mío…" roier says under his breath.

"guapito-"

"what happened?" roier's voice was stern and cellbit knew he was beyond screwed.

cellbit sighs, casting his eyes down to his papers. "it… it happened after the debate-"

"jesucristo, el debate. ¡claro que fue en el puto debate! ¡te lo dije! I told you, cellbit, not to run for president!" roier shouts, hands waving in angry emphasis.

"I told you not to get mixed up with the federation again, and you didn't listen!" roier steps closer, hand hovering over cellbit's scarred cheek. roier bites his cheek as he winces at the sight.

"roier," cellbit says softly, reaching for his husband's hand only for roier to take a step out of reach.

"who did it? cucurucho?" roier asks, folding his arms across his chest.

cellbit sighs, "we don't know yet. could be the federation, could not… we don't know. it was after the debate, and there was supposed to be some party for tallulah's father. we were all at this new dining hall then suddenly fit is sending out the emergency signal to get the eggs out-"

"the eggs were there?!" roier shouts, causing cellbit to lift his hands up to ease his spouse.

"they got out in time! they're all okay. but-" cellbit motions to his demise. "I wasn't so lucky. but it was only me and jaiden that got caught in the explosions."

"jaiden too?! cellbit!" roier exasperates, pacing away from the taller man. cellbit can feel his guilt festering inside him as he helplessly watches his love cope with the consequences of their unfortunate circumstance.

he didn't know what to say. he mulled over it for days prior, how he could present this situation in a positive light to ease roier's worries. eventually, he knew that this was going to be one situation he couldn't keep roier shielded from.

"that's it. no more," roier says through his pacing.

"no more?" cellbit repeats hesitantly.

"¡no más!" roier faces cellbit with his hands on his hips, eyebrows pinched together.

"no more of- of this president stuff!" roier motions to the skewed poster designs and the several rewritten speeches on the table. "no more election! no more investigating! no more talking to cucurucho! !no más, cellbit!"

"querida, por favor, pense por um segundo." cellbit steps toward roier and this time roier doesn't stop him from grasping their hands together. cellbit brings their hands to his chest, squeezing roier's gently when he felt their slight tremble.

"I have to do this-"

"no." roier bows his head, shaking it in disappointment.

"guapito, please, I have to. I am the only one who really knows how dangerous the federation can be. we and everyone else on the island need protection and security!"

"forever is running too, no? let him do it!" roier argues back still not looking up from their feet. his grip on cellbit was getting tighter and cellbit squeezed back just as earnestly.

"we are both running! just-just in case…"

roier's head snaps up and cellbit is taken aback by the pooling tears in the younger man's eyes.

"in case of what?! you die?!"

cellbit bites his lip at roier's grief-stricken expression. roier blinks rapidly, trying to hold his tears back.

"¡estúpido! they will kill you, and then what?! what will protection and security do then, huh?!" a broken sob slips past roier's lips and he weakly shoves their hands against cellbit's chest.

cellbit rushes out quiet soothing noises as roier's breathing picks up and tears begin to slip. he brings roier's fingers to his lips, kissing each knuckle with intention.

"não, não, meu amor, isso não vai acontecer. prometo-te, não vai. I promise."

"but you can't!" roier cries and cellbit falters.

"you can't promise something like that, cellbit, because they already did it!" roier shakes one of his hands out of cellbit's grip, resting it on the thinned, reddish skin of cellbit's face. cellbit could feel his own tears springing behind his eyes at roier's sad pout.

"mírate, they hurt you," roier said quietly.

"I know, I know." cellbit steps closer resting his forehead against the top of roier's.

"and I wasn't there," roier says just above a whisper. his body trembles and cellbit pulls him into his chest. roier buries his face into cellbit's shoulder, now crying freely.

"you died and I wasn't there!"

"shhh, don't do that. don't do that to yourself, meu amor." cellbit rubbed roier's back soothingly as the man cried, curling his fists into cellbit's shirt.

the couple stood there for a moment, in their emotions. with their copious amount of love for each other that made the grief and guilt hurt on a new level for both of them.

after a moment, roier sniffles and pulls his face away from cellbit's chest. cellbit looks down, the faintest of smiles rising on his lips because, even with tear-stained cheeks and a red nose, roier was still the most beautiful man on the island in his eyes.

"gatinho, i'm scared," roier says. "if you keep doing these things I could lose you. para siempre."

cellbit shakes his head, "you won't-"

"but-"

"no, roier, you won't because I would never leave you alone, okay? i'll fight for you. you are my light- my life, guapito. i'll fight everyone on this island if it means keeping you safe and our family together."

roier's shoulders sag as he surrenders to cellbit's sweet and honest words. with a disgruntled noise, he drops his head back onto cellbit's chest. cellbit holds him tight, stroking the back of his hair softly.

"guapito…" cellbit swallows his pride. "I'm sorry."

roier nods and forgives him silently. he pulls his head back to look up at cellbit and cellbit lets out a humorless huff.

"i'm kinda scary now, huh?" he jokes, but roier could sense the insecurity in his tone. could feel the uncertainty roll off the man in waves that were making roier's own energy change to mend it. roier shakes his head, earnestly.

"no, no, not scary." roier's hands find their place on the sides of cellbit's face, gentle and reassuring. he guides cellbit's face closer until he's able to press a soft kiss to the burnt skin.

cellbit places his hands atop roier's, fighting his own tears from spilling out. the fight is short when roier continues to leave gentle kisses over his new insecurities.

"todavía mi hombre guapo," roier whispers, and cellbit is overcome with the powerful urge to kiss his husband. when roier kisses him back, cellbit feels peace for the first time since their wedding.

the elections, his death, and the impending one, it all seemed so far away now that he had roier in his arms and his reassuring words in his head. roier was his anchor, there was no denying it anymore. he was the reason cellbit chose to keep going after being knocked down multiple times.

"eu amo você," cellbit says, brushing his nose against roier's, grinning when roier's scrunches up.

"I love you too," roier sighs. "which is why I'm going to be with you for this disaster."

cellbit raises his brows in confusion and roier hums, taking a deep breath before stepping back. composing himself, roier stands tall with his hands on his hips.

"you're still running for president then I will be first lady." roier raises his chin triumphantly and cellbit laughs for the first time in weeks.

"gatinho, I am so serious. I will never be leaving your side until this whole thing is over! i'll be at every debate, and I will yell for you like your own personal cheerleader."

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

the end... sorry lol

folks, I wrote this back in June of 2023 so excuse the forbidden characters that are mentioned and the lack of completion. I didn't feel like re-writing anything, I just wanted to share my work with the community.

I miss the qsmp a lot and thought I'd be nice to connect with the fandom again :) hope you enjoyed!

[autisticlancemcclain]

From the goddamn moment he was born, Lance did not know peace.

Okay, yes, he’s being a little dramatic. But in his defense, he really hasn’t ever known peace — you try living with nine older sisters on a farm. That shit is hard. Lance didn’t experience silence until he was four years old, only a delicate child, and at the time it frightened him. He’s been surrounded by noise and chaos (and more noise, somehow) since his inception, basically.

So you can understand why the castle is kind of a nightmare for him.

Growing up, whenever he was annoyed by his family (which was frequently), he would stomp off the the barn and yell about how when he was grown, he was going to move out to a private beach house and never hear another soul again. He’d bitch and moan to the cattle about how he couldn’t wait to grow up and finally sleep in a room all his own, with no annoying sisters or nosy roommates or anything, really. He’d mutter about it every time Hunk read his journal, fume about it every time his sisters banged on the bathroom door and yelled at him to hurry up. He swore up and down to everyone that would listen that when he finally found peace there would not be a goddamn thing in the world and beyond that would stop him from protecting it.

Well, then he got his peace, in the form of a castle that doubled as a graveyard. His own room, for once in his life, and not a single person to bother him unless it was life threatening, basically.

And oh, how Lance hated it.

He tossed and turned like no one’s business on the first days, but brushed it off as getting used to a new space. And as he kept tossing and turning, night after night, getting maybe three hours of scattered sleep of he was lucky, he continued to blame it on a myriad of things: fear of a freaky haunted castle, weirdly stiff Altean beds, freezing cold castle temperatures, nightmares. All true things, of course, but eventually Lance had to concede — the castle was too goddamn quiet.

Tough pill to swallow, that one.

He’d tried to handle it himself. Stole Pidge’s headphones, hummed out loud to himself; hell, he even left the bathroom sink running for some white noise. None of it worked. None of it was the same as the constant sound of someone breathing right next to you, the grumbles of their snores and strange mutterings of their sleep-talk. The very thing Lance hated with a passion turned out to be the one thing that actually helped his insomniac ass actually sleep. Mother nature, you trick-ass bitch. You have a personal problem.

Now, of course there was an easy solution to this. He shared the castle with six other people — one of them his Garrison roommate! Surely, he could bunk with someone else.

But… no one else seemed to have trouble sleeping. At least, not for the same reason as Lance. And as much as Lance liked to play the obnoxious role, as much as nothing was funnier than pushing just the right buttons to make someone else explode… he couldn’t be that much of a nuisance. It was too much.

So Lance got real used to being sleep deprived.

Of course, he wasn’t stupid about it. He never went more than three days without sleep. On particularly rough nights, he’d crash Hunk or Pidge’s rooms raving about a sleepover, or convince the rest of the team that they should have a movie night, and then just happen to fall asleep right there on the couch. By circumstance, he and Shiro ended up helping each other out pretty often, too — the black paladin was kept up by nightmares about as often as Lance was by plain old insomnia. The man was usually too proud to accept Lance’s help, but every once in a while he allowed it, and they both slept soundly, for once.

Keith, though?

His help was a surprise.

Keith, as it turns out, has as much pent-up energy as the goddamn Energizer Bunny on steroids. On days they don’t have missions that will pump them full of so much adrenaline their hearts are at risk, he trains himself to exhaustion, else he’ll be up all night.

Training with him doesn’t do anything for Lance’s insomnia. It does, however, do wonders for their relationship.

Without Lance’s permission, angry, after-hour fights evolve into playfully competitive spars. Those spars evolve into genuine lessons, both of them teaching each other things neither ever considered learning before. (Turns out Lance’s flexibility comes in handy in swordfights, and Keith’s reflexes lead to excellent pistol work. Who knew?) And then, week by week, month by month, those late nights turn into a tension so thick that neither of them can bear it.

It may have been Keith to make the first move, but Lance thinks he deserves some credit. They wouldn’t be here without his complete inability to sleep like a normal person, after all.

The great thing about dating someone, though, is that eventually, bed-sharing comes into the mix. Eventually both parties start looking for excuses to stay in each other’s space just a little bit longer.

Lord above, is it ever a relief.

No longer does Lance need to desperately look for an excuse after seventy-two straight hours of prying his eyes open. Now he justs follows Keith to his room when the night cycle starts, wrapping around him like an octopus and stealing his warmth like a leech. Keith is the worst, most annoying sleeper in the world — he snores, he tosses and turns, and regularly talks and even yells in his sleep — and Lance fucking relishes it. It is a relief of biblical proportions to finally be able to have a good night’s rest, on a regular fucking basis.

It does, though, make nights when he has to sleep in his own room that much worse.

He doesn’t even have to, technically. Like, there’s no indication that Keith ever wants him to go back. In fact, the man always pouts when Lance stops at his own door, muttering petulantly to himself as he presses a kiss to Lance’s forehead and makes his way to his own room. Honestly, Keith would probably like it if Lance moved into his room, for good.

Lance bites his lip, considering.

Still. He doesn’t want to be annoying.

But there’s no way to know unless he goes for it, right?

“Hey, babe,” Lance tries, testing the waters. They’re both in the bathroom, getting ready for bed; Keith braiding his hair as Lance applies a myriad of skin products to his face. “Do you think you could make some room in your dresser for my socks? And, like, other clothes?”

Is it a coward’s way to voice what he’s really asking? Yeah. But Lance is nervous, okay? Cut him some slack. If this backfires then he’s back to sleeping twice a fuckin’ week.

Keith stills. He abandons his hair, turning slowly to face Lance. Lance looks away, fiddling with the hem of his pajama shirt.

“Lance,” Keith says, placing both hands on his shoulders. He’s quiet until Lance finally looks up at him.

“Yeah?”

Keith’s face is mission-level serious; eyebrows drawn together over dark indigo eyes, mouth set in a firm line.

“I would reach my hands into a live fire and swallow hot coals for you if you asked me to. Do you understand that?”

There’s a beat of silence. Keith’s expression remains unmoving, dead-serious, entirely unfazed by what he just said.

Lance bursts out laughing, shoulders shaking under Keith’s heavy hands, leaning forward to rest his forehead on Keith’s collarbones.

God. This is Keith. Why was he nervous, again?

“I just need a couple drawers, doofus. No need for theatrics.”

Keith presses a kiss to his hair. “Just want to make sure we’re on the same page. Yes, by the way. I cleared out half my shit weeks ago. I’ve been waiting for you to finally move all the way in.”

Lance smiles, hidden against Keith’s shirt.

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Okay.”

He never has to worry about sleep again.

———

based off this video

[crimeshowsource]

CASTLE - 3.14, "Lucky Stiff"

[renegadesstuff]

This is the cutest thing 🥹🤍

[maturemenoftvandfilms]

The Disgraced Prince

CHAPTER FIVE: The Duke of York and I

My name is Ethan Clarke, and I'm Prince Andrew's lover. If you read the first installment to this story, you learned that His Majesty, Charles III's PR chief, James Cole hired me to keep Andrew; whose behavioral antics throughout his career as a Royal brought scandal and disgrace to the British Royal Family in line for the firm. More importantly, keeping his tryst between his new fuck boy a secret.

I considered how lucky I was, as the prince was still a very handsome man. At 64 years of age he stood at 6 feet, with a full head of thick whitish hair, and blue eyes with just a hint of mischief in them. His shoulders were broad, and he had a prominent belly which only made him that much more attractive in my eyes. Even though he'd yell at me and make me obey his commands, no matter how outrageous. He would have his way with me until HE was satisfied. I knew my goal was to please His Highness and invariably this would lead to my own pleasure.

After we had breakfast, Andrew asked me if I wanted to go riding with him. I said yes, even though I've never rode a horse before. We jumped into his Range Rover and drove to the grounds of Windsor Castle for his usual Saturday morning ride. The Duke cut a casual figure in a burgundy shirt and black trousers, with a Champion riding hat and riding boots, while out for a canter. Andrew is an elusive figure these days, having permanently resigned from all his public duties following controversy over his friendship with convicted paedophile Jeffrey Epstein and since then, he has not been seen in public often.

Dirty thoughts were running through my mind as I watched the prince during a break from exercising his horses. I looked at the outline of his cock through his black trousers and smiled at myself for knowing the taste of his treat. He knew I was watching him with more than just a little interest, but he just stared off onto the leafy grounds. Although I wanted to move over to him and start up with him, I stayed on my horse and just enjoyed the view.

Back at the stable, I was complaining about my ass hurting from the ride to see Andrew standing there, blatantly looking me over from head to toe. He also adjusted himself and rubbed his crotch before saying, "So was it the horse or me that gave you a sore ass," followed by a big laugh and a hard smack to the ass.

Next thing I know, Andrew was standing there with his swelling cock in his hand. I looked up at him and saw that big, stupid grin on his face. Then back down at his now stiff, a full 8" of royal cock. Well, giving in to lustful temptation was the only thing I was good at, so I put my hand around it and slowly jacked it. He then pulled me into a nearby empty stall, before I fell onto my knees in front of him. I stared at his boner for a moment then took his helmet in my mouth and sucked at it. I was licking him with vigor as I felt my cock flutter uncomfortably in my trouser. I reached down and unzipped them, allowing my prick to fall out, leaking precum onto the hay covered floor.

"That's it. I love that." Andrew said encouragingly.

I began bobbing my head up and down his shaft while I jerked my cock, he let go of my head and wrapped his hand around his wet cock, stroking generously.

Just then, someone entered the stable. We quickly zipped up and looked around to see if anyone had noticed, but no one had, so Andrew headed out. I followed him eagerly, and my cock was dripping in anticipation. Next thing I knew, we we're in his Range Rover speeding back to the Royal, nearly running over some guy's dog. By the time we got back to the estate, I was afraid he wasn't interested anymore as he sent on an errand. And when I returned, he was in the sitting room.

The lights were dim, Andrew had changed, sitting in a chair sprawled out and watching television. With a big grin on his face, he waves me over as I notice his hand stroke his hard cock through his pants. Once in front of him, he points down and quickly drop to my knees.

"Blow me."

What a dominate sexy fucking god of a man I thought as I slide my hands up his legs towards his crotch. Feeling that girthy, long cock through the pants, it takes every muscle in your body not to rip his pants off then. I unzip his pants as Andrew lifts his ass so I could pull down his pants. And as I did, his underwear catches his cock and cause it to snap back against his hairy belly. I licked and sucked his nipples as I rubbed the head of his cock, spreading his pre-cum like lube. I kissed my way down his chest, leaving a trail of saliva all the way to his cock. Taking him in my mouth, I began to suck while I swirled my tongue around his boner.

Covering his cock with my spit and sliding up and down hard. Then I slide it all the way down my throat, taking the full length. Andrew throws his head back and groans as he grabs the back of my head and trusts in deeper somehow, making me gag. I went back to stroking his now wet cock.

"Did Fergie ever suck you like that?" I asked.

"The cow could never suck my cock right." He said and I said she was missing out then. "Did she ever let you fuck her in the ass?"

He yes to that, saying "She had a good ass" as my tongue lapped at his nuts while he lay there stroking himself. I it looked like he was all ready to cum and everything when he whispered, "Ride me."

I stood up and looked around for some lube, he told me he had some Vaseline in his bag in the corner. I walked over towards it and bent over to pull the Vaseline out, as I bent over, I felt him grab my legs, I looked back from under my legs and saw him kneeling behind me. I let out a sharp gasp as I felt his tongue slid up and down my sweaty crack until it pressed against my hole.

"Oh yeah." I moaned as he slid the tip of his tongue into me, tonguefucking me, eating my ass.

He did that for around five minutes till my hole must have been dripping. My cock was twitching and I wanted to touch it, but I knew I'd shoot if I did. Then Andrew stood up, took the Vaseline tub from me and started spreading Vaseline over his prick while heading back to the couch. I stood there, pinching my nipples as he lay back and spread his legs wide. Andrew had that big, stupid grin on his face again as I climbed on top of him, guiding his 8" cock into my hole with one hand and tweaking his nipple with the other. As soon as his dick made contact, he immediately thrust all 8 inches into me. I gasped loudly, so loudly in fact that I’m sure the servants in the next room heard.

Placing both my hands on his chest, I dig into it as I lifted my ass and slid back down again, telling him he could fuck me as hard as he wanted.

Andrew let me take control, so I rode his dick, stopping whenever I thought he was getting close to coming so we could kiss. After teasing him and prolonging the excitement, he was desperate to cum. Just then, the disgraced prince took charge and flipped me over. He laid me flat on my stomach and shoved his cock back up into my ass. Again, I moaned as he started pounding my ass furiously, slapping it was his free hand like he was riding a bronco.

“Oh me! Oh! Oh!” I cried out as Andrew stared fucking me hard and fast. I could feel his hot breathe on the back of my neck as I push my ass back against his crotch each time he slammed his cock into of me. Pinned under him, that was all I could do. I knew he was getting close, so it didn't take too much bouncing until that hot cock exploded inside me. He emptied his balls inside me, then pulled out and hurried to his feet.

Then as he shook the last drops of cum from the piss hole of his dick, I turned over and started jacking myself off in front of him. With his dick still in his hand, Andrew stared down at me pounding away at my engorged dick. I swear I almost enjoy him watching me play with myself as I did with him fucking me as I shot my load all over my chest and stomach.

[imzadi-caskett-huddy]

It Started With a Kiss (2/?)

This chapter is taken from the episode “Lucky Stiff,” so according to the original air dates, it takes place 2 weeks after the last chapter. “Knockdown” aired on Jan 24 and “Lucky Stiff” aired on Feb 7.

Once again, I want to point out that the events unfold exactly as they happen on the show, with the exception of what you see written here. The storylines are all connected…each chapter is NOT standalone.

I still, unfortunately, do not own Castle.

xxxxx

Two weeks. It had been two weeks since that undercover kiss, since that night at her apartment where the whiskey had made him brave enough to tell her he was in love with her and kiss her. Two weeks since her hand on his chest had ever so gently pushed him away. They hadn’t talked about either kiss since that night, and they certainly hadn’t talked about his confession; he hadn’t been brave enough while sober, and he figured she didn’t want to make things awkward between them. It was like an unspoken rule, a line that they danced around but neither dared to cross…and when he had dared to smudge it that night, she had carefully pushed him back on the other side.

He hadn’t been able to get the two kisses out of his head, for different reasons. The kiss at her apartment had lasted maybe 3 or 4 seconds before she had pushed him away, long enough for her to have allowed it to happen; it wasn’t like she instantly shoved him back. No, it was more like she was stopping herself from allowing it to continue. She hadn’t returned that kiss, but he’d still felt a spark. Maybe the reason she wouldn’t allow that kiss to continue any longer than it had was because of the way their first kiss had started so innocently and then quickly grown into a raging inferno.

That undercover kiss still haunted his dreams. The way her lips felt against his, the way she had been the one to dive into that second kiss, the way she’d been the one to invade his mouth with her tongue…aggressively…the way she moaned; that hadn’t been his imagination, and it certainly hadn’t been all a show. The guard hadn’t been close enough to tell if they were kissing with tongue, so it certainly hadn’t been necessary.

He’d dreamt about her nearly every night since then. They all started the same…with that ridiculously hot kiss. They all had similar endings…with them in various states of undress, grinding against each other for release either up against a wall in the alley or against her car,

even in the back of her car. And then he always woke up alone, feeling the ghost of her fingers in his hair, the way her tongue danced against his, the way she’d bitten his lip, still able to taste her on his lips. After every dream, he’d take a few moments to savor the memories before pulling himself from bed and heading for his shower to find relief; it was almost ritualistic at this point.

Their latest case had her asking him if he’d go undercover with her again, in a club. He’d eagerly agreed; undercover work was fun, and spending time with her on an almost date in a club…no way was he going to turn her down and have her ask Ryan or Esposito to join her. He was her partner, he had her back; he was going to keep showing up for her. He realized, though, after seeing the dress she was wearing, that it was going to be a long evening of torture for him. And when he saw the way she handled his Ferrari, he knew he was in deep trouble.

Beckett danced her way into the club and through the crowd, Castle following close behind as always, but he wasn’t dancing. He was too preoccupied watching the way her body moved…it was mesmerizing. When she got a little space on the dance floor, she pulled him close and started dancing against him. She rolled her eyes as he stood there, still staring at her in awe. “Staring is creepy,” she leaned in close to his ear to speak, so close that her lips brushed against his skin. “This isn’t a day at Disneyland, Castle. If you don’t act like we’re together, some other guy is going to try, and that’s not how this undercover thing works. So dance with me and keep your eyes peeled for Oz.”

He swallowed hard, doing his best to keep his composure as he inhaled the scent of cherries from her hair that was brushing against his lips. This night might kill him. “Okay,” he managed to murmur, one hand moving to her waist, but definitely not daring to be inappropriate.

She rolled her eyes when he didn’t loosen up after a few moments and leaned close to his ear again. “Stop acting like you’re afraid I’m going to shoot you. You’re supposed to be my boyfriend, so act like it,” she murmured, her hand taking his wrist and moving the hand he had on her waist down to a much more inappropriate position on her ass. Get with it, she tried to convey the message with the look she sent him as she pulled back to dance against him again.

After a deep breath which he released slowly, he tried to do what she asked and loosen up. His hands moved over her body every bit the way a lover’s would. Oh, he was definitely going to die tonight; death by Kate Beckett. The way her body moved sinfully against his as they danced so close, in sync…all he could think about was how her body would feel moving like that against his, her skin against his skin, between his ridiculously high thread count Egyptian cotton bed sheets. He had no idea how long he’d been fantasizing when was shaken out of his it by the feel of her breath on his ear, but he had no idea what she said.

“Castle!” she hissed in his ear, finally getting his attention. “Have you seen Oz yet?” she asked, pulling back slightly to get his reaction.

“No,” he shook his head. But he hadn’t really been looking either; he’d been too busy fantasizing about her moving her body the way she was in his bed without her dress on.

“Keep looking,” she told him. She let her eyes scan around the room again, searching through the crowd as she slowly danced them through the people. They needed to find Oz quickly so they could get out of there. She could feel how he was affected by this whole situation every time her hips moved against his, and it would be a lie to say it wasn’t affecting her almost as much. She needed to get them both out of the position she’d put them in before one or both of them would do something in the heat of the moment that would really complicate things between them.

She knew it would have been smarter, safer to have taken Espo with her to the club. He would have been able to pass as her boyfriend without the same effect she and Castle were having on each other; then again, she may not have danced quite as closely with him either. She’d told herself that she and Castle were a much more convincing couple than she and Espo; she and Castle were more in sync and exuded chemistry…Castle was her partner. And she had selfishly wanted to go to the club with him, selfishly wanted an hour with him like this to pretend…pretend reality didn’t exist, pretend Josh didn’t exist, pretend that she was his.

The kiss they’d shared two weeks ago still played through her head. She’d never felt pure, intense fire in her veins from a kiss like that before. No man had ever made her feel that way, certainly not from just a kiss. If only her life weren’t so complicated, if she hadn’t built a fortress around her heart, maybe it could be different, maybe she could be with him. It just wasn’t that simple. Josh was safe; she couldn’t get hurt with Josh; her heart was never in danger. But Castle…Castle had the power to shatter her heart and completely destroy her.

Finally, she spotted their target in a booth by the opposite wall. “Oz is in a booth along that back wall. Go get us drinks while I go over to him. Make sure you’re back in 5 minutes…you’ve got my cuffs,” she reminded him.

He watched her ass in the tight, short skirt of her dress as she started dancing away. When she stopped and turned back after a moment, catching him staring and giving him one of her looks, he was torn completely from the fantasy world he’d been in for the past hour with her. “Drinks, right,” he smiled, heading for the bar.

His mind wandered as he waited for the drinks. He watched her flirt with the drug dealer so effortlessly. He wasn’t surprised she’d made her detective rank working in vice; she was a natural, and she was hot. Most men wouldn’t peg her for a cop. He made a point to try to remember to ask her for some stories from her days in vice; he wanted to know about the undercover work she’d done.

Undercover work…that made him close his eyes with a smile at the way it felt having her body

pressed up against his, sliding against his just minutes ago. These were memories he was sure would replace that of her kiss in his dreams. He opened his eyes to see their drinks on the bar in front of him. He paid the bartender, and with a soft sigh knew their night was coming to an end. He knew that for now at least, this was the only way he could have her like that…undercover and in his memories.

Castle had just made it to the booth in time to see Beckett slam Oz’s head into the table with his hand twisted behind his back and kick the bodyguard in the crotch, which made him wince. God, she was hot when she was badass like that. When he saw her outstretched hand, he offered her one of the drinks with a smile, about to make a comment about her badassery.

“No! Handcuffs!” she told him, shaking off the drink.

“Right. Sorry,” he put one of the drinks down for a moment to pull the handcuffs out of his pocket and hand them to her.

xxxxx

“Castle!” Beckett greeted him when she opened the door and saw him standing there.

“I know what you would do if you won the lottery,” he walked past her into her apartment, proud of himself.

“By all means, please come in,” she rolled her eyes, closing her door. “So, what is your big insight into a financial decision that I will never have to make?” she arched an eyebrow slightly.

He smiled. “You would use the money to honor your mother’s legacy.” His eyes were soft as he studied her. He was right. “On the way over here, I called the dean of your mom’s old law school. We talked about starting a scholarship in Johanna Beckett’s name. One that would provide a full ride for a student planning on dedicating their career to those in the legal system without a voice, the kind of people your mom championed. And, with your blessing, I would like to host a fundraiser to fund it.”

He wanted to…what? She was completely caught off guard by this gesture. He was just supposed to be trying to guess what she’d do with a lot of money, not make what felt like some grand romantic gesture for her. “You just can’t stay out of my personal life can you?”

Castle’s smile faded slightly. Maybe he overstepped, maybe this was too much…maybe…

Beckett smiled then. “Thank you. It’s really sweet.” She couldn’t help but look at the floor a little nervously.

“We definitely have to invite the mayor, and all of his campaign contributors,” he started, moving

past her toward her dining room table and pulling a paper out of his pocket as he took a seat. “Some of them can be boorish. There’s this one guy…” he trailed off when he caught her staring at him. “What?”

She shook her head slightly, a smile on her face. God, she was falling in love with him...or maybe she already was in love with him and was just now beginning to realize it. “Would you like some wine?” she asked softly.

“That would be great while we plan out the details,” he agreed, already writing down some notes.

She disappeared into her kitchen to grab a bottle of red and a couple of wine glasses. This latest gesture had her heart somersaulting. She couldn’t imagine anyone doing anything sweeter for her. She couldn’t even put into words how it made her feel, how he was making her feel. Taking a seat next to him at the table, she handed him a glass before taking a sip of hers.

They sat at her table talking and planning for over an hour, and by the time they had finished off the bottle, they had worked out most of the details of the event, and what was important to her to include. She still couldn’t believe not only had he come up with this, but he was sharing it with her and putting it into action.

“This really is very sweet, Castle,” she told him honestly, resting a hand on his arm.

He returned her smile, meeting her eyes. “It was your idea.”

She laughed softly. “How was it my idea?”

“I heard you talking to my mother…about what she should do with the money. This evening it sort of clicked into place, that you would want to honor your mom. I just came up with a way to do it that didn’t involve you winning the lottery,” he shrugged.

She couldn’t help the way she was looking at him. This man was so incredible…that he would do this for her, give this to her…something she didn’t even know she wanted. “Castle, I don’t know what to say,” she finally admitted softly.

He smiled. “You don’t have to say anything.”

They both sat staring deeply into each other’s eyes, simply getting lost there for a few moments. She wanted so badly to kiss him after all of this. But she couldn’t. She was committed to another man…at least physically. Though she’d come to realize this evening that Josh did not have her heart; she’d been emotionally committed to Castle first. So was she cheating on Castle with Josh? It kind of felt like it now. But if she did kiss Castle, that was definitely cheating on Josh...right? What was she supposed to do when one man had her emotional commitment and

the other her physical commitment; when one man had the power to wreck her, and every instinct in her head was telling her to run, but the other was safe because he couldn't make her feel enough to really hurt her? The twisted logistics were making her head spin.

“It’s late,” she said softly, finally breaking the spell between them.

“Yeah,” he agreed, moving to stand. He grabbed his coat from the back of one of the chairs and put it back on. “I’ll hire an event planner, and let you know when we can meet with them,” he promised.

“That sounds great,” she nodded, walking him to her door. She paused a moment before opening it to raise up and give him a gentle kiss on his cheek. “Thank you. For all of this,” she whispered. “You’re an amazing man.”

“You’re welcome,” he smiled.

Taking a deep breath, she tore her eyes away from his and opened the door so he could leave. “Goodnight, Castle.”

xxxxx

I always felt like they were in and out of the club far too quickly in the episode, though I understand the logistics filming wise of why. So I wanted a little bit longer of a scene where they were actually undercover together for more than 3 minutes.

And I always thought this scholarship set up in her mother’s name was a huge grand gesture that was highly underrated and we never heard about it again. Never fear, I am here to resurrect it! I plan on having the fundraiser at some point over one of the next chapters of this story! There is no way they are not going to that!

Anyway, I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter! As I said before, I'm rotating updates between this and my other story. It will most likely be about a week before there's an update here, because I've got to write the next chapter in Hell Hath No Fury and deal with Castle's embarassment at the cabin.

Also if any of you ever have problems finding chapters of my stories, it's all over on fanfiction.net under the penname THE Imzadi Fan

[tozettastone]

On Banishing Merlin

The day Arthur finds out about the magic is the day Merlin is banished.

A lot of stuff actually happens between those two events, but it's less significant to Merlin. Arthur gets saved from the glare of a gorgon and they cleverly turn her to stone, for one. There's also a lot of yelling—a lot of yelling—about the floating mirror that Merlin employs to help with this.

Probably the worst thing Arthur says is, "I thought, if you were a rubbish servant, at least you were loyal!"

Merlin is too aghast to have a good response to this, although in an hour's time it occurs to him that he could have yelled 'I drank poison for you, you royal pillock.' But Merlin rarely has the words he wants, when it matters most.

And then Arthur, Leon and Merlin all storm back to Camelot in grim glowering silence with a gorgon's head in a bag as the dusk grows dark in the woods around them.

So that all happens.

But also, Merlin is banished, which is the most important part in as much as he's concerned.

His recognition for saving the crown prince's life is a commuting of his sentence, which is only possible because nobody bothers to tell Uther about it in the first place.

Arthur doesn't kick him out of the castle at sundown to freeze, at least. Instead Merlin enjoys the hospitality of the dungeons all night, sick to his stomach and sleepless in a cold cell, and then he's got to leave at dawn. He wonders all night what Arthur is going to tell the king about his useless, hopelessly loyal manservant, who will now simply vanish—but perhaps he should rather ask if he'll tell the king at all. He might not. It would be safer for all of them if he didn't.

Uther probably won't even notice. One servant is much the same as another, to him.

In the colourless hours before dawn, Sir Leon comes for him.

"His sentence is banishment," he tells the guards, "I'm to escort him to the border."

And so, Camelot's first knight has been designated Merlin's personal watch dog. It's flattering and offensive in equal measure. He's the prince's sacked manservant, not a live dragon.

The guards give him up without even commenting, so presumably they don't know what he's been arrested for either. Huh.

That morning finds him in Gaius's cluttered chambers, shoving everything he owns into a bag by candle light. It's not much. Servants are paid mostly in room and board, and have few coins to spend on frivolities like... more clothes, or a second pair of boots.

Incongruous among the comfortable chaos of measuring instruments and cloudy glass bottles and hanging herbs, Sir Leon watches him pack awkwardly from just inside the door.

Gaius's craggy face is creased and drawn into an expression that would be ferocious if Merlin knew him less. These predawn hours are a strange, grey, still time, when only the watchmen and the bakers really ought to be up. Not to put too fine a point on it, but in the years since Merlin got here, Gaius has gone and gotten old. This morning, he's older than ever.

"You should count yourself lucky you're not dead." And yet, Gaius doesn't sound like he finds it lucky, because he sighs deeply. "What will you do?"

"No idea."

"Merlin."

He looks up. "No, really. I don't know. I've just got banished, haven't I? I haven't the foggiest. Visit my mum?"

He really should. She'll worry, otherwise, when she gets the next letter he will have to write her. He's painfully aware of Sir Leon standing there, stiff and still, listening to every word.

Merlin has found him comforting, before. He's a good knight: faithful, dutiful, slow to decide that violence is the answer and quick to act once he's decided. But Merlin doesn't know, now, if those characteristics of Leon's are, well, on his side anymore.

He does not know where Leon stands, personally, on the matter of magic. He's never asked. For obvious reasons, Merlin studiously avoids the topic.

And now he doesn't know if he looks grim because seeing a friend banished is a grim duty, or if he looks grim because he's watching Merlin, waiting for him to commit an infraction that's worth killing him over.

What a mess.

"You can't stay in Ealdor," says Gaius wearily. "Otherwise you would not have left it in the first place."

"Yeah. I know." He knows this better than anyone. "But it'll be good to visit while I—while I sort myself out. My plans."

His plans. His plans. What plans can Merlin make, really, when Morgana is right here in the heart of Camelot, poised to strike? Surely Uther won't last the year.

Uther might not even last out the rest of the month.

Arthur, though. Merlin has better hopes for Arthur. He doesn't have to be living in his pocket to protect him... although he'd prefer it. And Arthur is better liked and less unbending, anyway. Just because Morgana wants to kill him does not mean she'll succeed so easily as that.

Gaius nods, accepting.

Neither of them says anything for a long moment after that, and Gaius goes to collect several things he's determined Merlin must have, if he's forced to go off on his own. First is an old leather saddle bag stuffed with food, although Merlin has no saddle and certainly no horse. Then it's a linen envelope filled with tiny sachets of dried herbs. Then cloudy glass bottles of medicines, ones that won't lose their potency even if they aren't fresh. They're medicines that have been used since Roman times: autumn crocus for the heart, nightshade for the nervous system, poppy juice for pain...

Merlin sees Sir Leon watching him steadily from the corner of his eye, even as he accepts these familiar tinctures wrapped in rags right from Gaius's worn hands.

The knight is doing the job Prince Arthur has told him to do. It is a direct abrogation of the law as handed down by king and council. Merlin swings wildly between feeling personally offended and powerfully resentful—enough to make the candles flicker fitfully away from his temper, like it's a physical thing—and existing in the cruel grip of perspective. Banishment is the best Arthur can give him. Following his orders to watch him and make sure he really leaves at dawn is the best Sir Leon can give him.

And yet, Merlin is bitter.

His stomach is tight and his eyes sting at regular intervals, threatening furious tears.

...Merlin is frightened, too. But anger feels better than fear.

"This is for you, too." Gaius startles him out of his dark and spiralling thoughts with one last gift. "I have no misgivings about giving you this, now."

It's a roll of soft vellum enclosed in a little wooden tube. Merlin looks at him, and then unrolls it and reads, glancing up at him moment to moment. Gaius has put his own good name to it. Merlin, it says, is a physician whose skills and character are in good standing with the court physician at Camelot.

It does not say he's in good standing with the king or the prince, which is... good, probably. But it's skirting the edges of a lie. Especially with the little seal at the bottom: the Pendragon dragon, curled around the physician's staff. It's the seal specific to the physician of the court.

Merlin raises his eyebrows. Gaius only rarely even permits him to see a patient alone, because apparently he'd lose his head if it wasn't attached. "Really?"

Ealdor doesn't need a physician. It can't support one. Everyone in a village that small needs to be working in the fields so they all live through the hungry gap at the end of winter. And winters have been getting very, very long these last few years. A physician doesn't work in a place like that, although he may travel through. He works in an army or for a mercenary company, or at a fortified settlement like the castle here in Camelot, or the old Roman Londinium, off in Mercia.

"Just in case," Gaius offers, quirking a significant eyebrow.

Their goodbye is sentimental and teary.

Leon walks with him to the border, although he brings his horse. The animal's head bobs as it ambles along beside them.

Leon doesn't speak to him, at first, which is actually quite useful, because it gives Merlin the chance to provide last instructions about the care and keeping of Arthur.

"There are sorcerers trying to kill Arthur every other week," Merlin tells him. "You have to keep a look out. Anyone new. Anyone suspect. Make sure George gets my job—Arthur hates him but he's been vetted. Get someone else to open his gifts, even if you think they're from someone trustworthy." Like Morgana. "Don't let him get enchanted. Check for cantrips under his bed, in his pillows, in his clothes—you have to feel the seams. Don't—"

"Is this why you started?" Leon wonders, tipping his head back to squint at the sun rising, soft pink and burning red on the horizon. "Using sorcery, I mean."

Merlin stalls. His brain is full, but his mouth is empty. "Uhh..."

"Only, you don't seem like the type."

"The type?" Even in Camelot, sorcerers have never seemed to have much of a 'type,' to Merlin. They appear among the lowest and the highest in society, and use magic for applications ranging from regicide to healing blisters.

Leon reflects. "Desperate," he amends. "Or religious."

Oh. Well.

That.

"Can you think of any reason why all the sorcerers you find in Camelot might seem like desperate nutters?" he sighs. "But I'm not from here. I was born with it and my mum sent me to live with Gaius to learn how to control it."

Leon starts. "I wasn't aware one could be born with the... with magic. Stop that," he adds to his horse, who is taking advantage of the loose rein to snag grass from the side of the path. He takes her bridle by the cheek piece and brings her head closer, the better to keep an eye on her. "She knows better than to eat with her bit in."

Merlin thinks most horses actually know one thing and one thing only: how much they can get away with, under whose watch. He doesn't say that Leon's a soft touch with his horses. If he doesn't know by now, there's no point telling him.

"Most sorcerers learn it. You can be born with it. I was... struggling in Ealdor." Merlin is very tired. Funnily enough, spending all night in the dungeons and then getting roused before dawn hasn't left him with much energy for putting one foot in front of the other. It makes him more honest than he might otherwise be. Or perhaps he'd be this direct with anyone who knew. It's hard to say. He's been keeping it quiet for so long.

He puts one foot in front of the other and finds himself missing Lancelot powerfully. Maybe he will try to find him, he thinks, after he sees Hunith. But Lancelot could be anywhere by now.

"Is that where you're going now?"

"Seems rude to get banished from a whole kingdom, cross the border, and not even visit my mum, doesn't it?"

"Your mum," Leon says slowly.

"Yeah. Sorcerers also have mothers, you know. One of the first people I rescued Arthur from was a sorcerer's mum, actually."

"I recall. That was when the king made you his manservant."

"Uh-huh. Used magic for that, too." He's already banished—what can it hurt? It feels weirdly cathartic to be this honest, for a change.

"I was at that feast, but I noticed nothing out of the ordinary."

"Yeah. I slowed time."

"Slowed time?"

"Yep. No idea how. No training, you know."

Leon's face is a mix between deep alarm and wondering if Merlin is having him on, which actually makes telling him a lot more fun.

So on their two day walk to the kingdom's border, Merlin takes the opportunity to unload every bit of magic that ever saved Arthur right onto Sir Leon's dutiful shoulders. If nothing else, it will give him a really good idea of what sort of thing to look out for while Merlin's banished.

At the border—marked by heavy stones and the curve of a stream—Leon leaves him.

Merlin isn't sure if he's changed his opinion on sorcery. But he reckons he has at least impressed upon him the sheer amount of danger Arthur is exposed to in a citadel that refuses magical protection.

"Leon," Merlin says gravely. "Don't let Arthur get killed."

And now that he has the past two days as testimony to how bloody hard that is, Leon looks appropriately daunted by the responsibility. But he squares up, exhales, and says: "You have my word. I won't."

Which is all you can really ask for, Merlin guesses.

He wonders what Kilgarrah would have to say about this. Extracting this promise from Leon is a lot like outsourcing his destiny, really. Probably he'd have nothing particularly flattering to say about, but when does Kilgarrah ever say anything nice?

...Good thing Merlin isn't going to bring it up to him.

"Right," he says, watching Sir Leon mount up and turn his horse right back around towards Camelot. He looks very picturesque, a big strapping man on a shiny bay horse with his long red cloak. He could be a painting, framed beautifully with the sun rising over the landscape behind him. "That's that, then."

And Merlin shifts the weight of his bag higher on his shoulder and puts one foot in front of the other, on his way to Ealdor...

[myfandomprompts]

To Risk It All | Chapter 2

Summary: Daera's family finally arrives in King's Landing, and as tragedy unleashes on her House, Aemond grows fascinated.

Warnings: Blood, mutilation. | Previous part - Masterlist

Daera visited her brother as soon as she was awake, finding him curled in his sheets, evidently still asleep and she concluded that he must have had as little sleep as she did last night.

She had come back from her ride with a lighter heart, Seasmoke allowing her to take in the surroundings of the city, flying her above the bay, over the Kingswood, and finally circling the Red Keep. She tried to memorise each of its towers and passageways before heading back to the Dragon Pit.

It may have helped her find sleep more easily, but she still felt exhausted when she decided to explore the castle ground the next morning, braving the many stares she earned from the court members as she strolled the corridors, proudly displaying her house colours in her aquamarine gown.

She ignored what her mother and great-cousins had planned when they would anchor in King’s Landing, but Daera was set on learning everything she could before their arrival, before she would be forced to face the man who had allowed her father to die ; to face the King. 

So she wandered the serpentine stairs, the gardens and the royal sept before her feet were drawn to the lower courtyard. It was far from empty, the training ground below her full of men eager to learn.

Perched on the balcony over the courtyard, Daera watched the trainees wave their sword around, an old weapon master barking orders at them. As she examined their faces, she was left to wonder if the royal family participated in such training. Maybe she would be lucky enough to see one of them.

"Daera."

She recognised the voice instantly as the newcomer took place next to her. 

“Princess Rhaenys,” she greeted politely, unable to grant her a smile.

The Queen Who Never Was wore drawn-looking features as she gazed down at the training grounds in turn, her posture stiff and wary. Daera felt sympathy for her great-aunt, whose husband’s fate was currently uncertain, far away at sea, the fate of her House hanging by a threat. 

Of their House. “I’ve been told you arrived yesterday, it is a good thing.” 

Some of the men below started to form groups, two young squires circling around each other, training swords in hand. “I disagree. I should have come with father and brother, to have insisted upon coming.”

“It would not have changed anything, my dear. None of us could have predicted what would have happened.”

“Mayhaps not, but nonetheless I would have been here.”

Daera scratched the stone of the railing anxiously as she watched one of the men strike a blow to his opponent, sending him to the ground.

“It was a foul act,” Rhaenys continued, the wisdom conveyed in her voice palpable. “I did not see eye to eye with your father regarding his views, but it does not mean I do not mourn for his death, as well as the brutality of it. I am sorry for your loss, Daera.”

Daera risked a glance at her, willing to remain composed under so many eyes scrutinising her. “Thank you, great-aunt. I do hope for the safe return of your husband as well.”

An extended silence settled between the two of them, only filled with the sound of steel against steel, Daera’s gaze lost in its movement and she felt something odd tingling at the back of her neck.

“How is your brother? I did not have the chance to see him. The Queen was surprisingly keen to keep him under her care, I noticed.”

Daera frowned at that, but decided to think about this oddity later as she answered. “I cannot truly tell. He shows remarkable poise, but I fear that the more he keeps to himself, the more resentful he will feel.”

“You must find a way to soothe him, Daera. The grievances we suffer at a tender age cling to us more strongly than any other, grow more powerful than any other. It tends to turn into something darker.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Rhaenys spotted a silver-haired man standing at the edge of the training ground, her last words fitting him perfectly as she stared at him. His single valid eye scoured the sparring men as he leaned over the weapon rack, waiting patiently for his turn.

But Daera had not noticed, her thoughts filled with her brother, far away from what was happening below her as the prickling feeling at her neck grew inexplicably stronger. 

“I have something for you," Daera watched as her great-aunt reached for the pouch at her waist and presented a silver and blue ring to her. “I secured it… from your father,” she said as Daera’s heartbeat fastened at the sight of her Vaemond’s signet ring. “I took it before the Silent Sisters could gather his belongings. I should have been returned to your brother, or you.”

The Velaryon’s sigil carved onto it shone in the morning sunlight as she reached for it, feeling something heavy in her throat. Or was it the weight of her father’s legacy?

“I… Thank you. Princess Rhaenys,” she managed to say, turning the ring between her fingers as the woman before her nodded in acknowledgement, in sympathy.

The smile the Queen Who Never Was gave her was genuine, a comfort Daera didn’t know she needed. “Please, be careful Daera.”

She took her hands in hers with affection before turning away and leaving her on the balcony to stare at her father’s ring with confusion and repressed tears.

Down below, Aemond Targaryen was weighing his sword in his hand as he placed himself next to the master of arms, eager to prove himself, the very opposite image of his brother that had avoided training yet again. For a moment, he swore he saw something blue flash at the corner of his eye up above, but as he looked, he saw nothing, and the next moment the tension he had felt arriving in the courtyard disappeared.

The scent of jasmine tickled his nose as he started to spar.

Daera spent the rest of her morning in Daemion’s company, ensuring that he had enough to eat, enough to drink, trying to keep him busy with games and occasional conversations that felt empty. Overall, the wait for their kin to arrive was a distress, every hour that passed with the knowledge of their father decaying down in the sept and not in the sea saddening them.

“I met with Princess Rhaenys,” she began when she found the strength to broach the matter. “She said that she regretted not being able to see you.”

Daemion shrugged as he moved a spearman on the board. “I did not wish to see anyone. Queen Alicent granted me the peace I needed.”

“I see,” mused Daera, and she wondered if the Queen did not regret the death of their father more than Rhaenys herself. “She gave me something for you.”

As she presented the signet ring, she saw her brother’s eyes widen a moment before falling in deep reflection. “Father’s ring…”

“It belongs to you now,” she said with a half smile as she extended the ring to him. 

But he did not take it.

“I don’t want it,” he stated, shaking his head. “I don’t deserve it.”

Daera withdrew her hand in confusion. “What do you mean, you don’t deserve it, Daemion?”

“I am not worthy of it, not until I avenge him. Until I kill him.”

Daera sensed the uncomfortable weight settle back in her throat as she searched her brother’s eyes, now harshly looking out of the window as if he wished all of what he saw to burn. “Kill who, Daemion?”

Her brother snapped his eyes at her, harsh purple irises staring back at her. “Daemon Targaryen.”

She let her brain process the words before speaking, voice slightly trembling. “Daemion, you can’t say things like that, you know that we cannot make justice ourselves, and the Rogue Prince is-”

“You weren’t there!” he suddenly shouted, voice shrill as tears began to appear at the rim of his eyes. “You did not see how he murdered father, taunting him and then killing him from behind, and no one did anything against that, no one acted. No one.”

Daera was speechless as tears of fury now rolled down her brother’s cheeks, her thoughts clouded with the need to protect her brother from all harm, from impossible pain. She would give her life before she let anything happen to him, before she would let him face the Rogue Prince.

Protect him.

She pulled him in a tight embrace, kissing the top of his hair as she tried to stop both their hearts from hammering, to chase the ache away. “I know. I know it is unfair. But we must not think like that, we must be stronger. Do not let those feelings consume you Daemion, or we will lose in the end, I beg of you.”

He remained silent, resting in her arms for a while before they silently resumed their game of Cyvass, but neither of them was focused anymore. What would happen once their mother and cousins finally appear at shore, they didn’t know.

When they were summoned by the Queen, Daera took a moment to grab a chain in the vanity and put her father’s ring around it before safely tucking it in her cleavage and around her neck, hidden. If Daemion did not want it yet, she would wear it for safekeeping, with a promise.

She would save her House from downfall.

The Queen had ordered upon their arrival a plethora of dishes for them to eat, but both Daera and Daemion did not have much appetite. Instead, Daera spent the entirety of the meal wondering what the Queen’s purpose was, why she had kept her brother close and why she invited them while her husband had ordered their father’s tongue removed. 

She seemed genuinely sorry for them, and Daera was forced to remember that she was a woman, a mother, before being a Queen. She had also been the one her father had gone to for support when he found none within his own family

It was when cake was served that Daera finally understood the reason for her presence in the Queen’s solar. “You have not yet been betrothed, Lady Velaryon, if I am correct. Neither courted?”

“I am not, your Grace,” she answered clumsily as she swallowed a piece of lemon cake, her brother giving her a fleeting glance beside her. “My father had always been keen on finding a perfect match for me.”

“As is his right. What about your mother? Does she share the same views?”

“Oh, very much so. At this rate, I fear that I will never be married.”

This elicited a smile from Alicent while Daemion stared down at his plate. Talks of his sister going away never pleased him.

“You are an excellent match Daera, do not concern yourself. I am certain that you will have plenty of choices for a suiter when the time comes.”

Daera had not the strength to reply, neither in agreement nor otherwise, and settled for draining the content of her cup in silence. She was the daughter of a fallen man, even called a traitor by some, and Daera doubted that she would be an eligible choice for any of the Lords of the Kingdoms. Not that she eagerly wanted to be married.

But she could now clearly see the Queen’s train of thoughts behind her brown eyes, considering her, anticipating. 

She put a stop to that. “How old were you when you married the King?” 

Alicent turned pensive. “Eighteen of age. It already seems like a lifetime ago in truth. Viserys has always been a good husband to me, very loving.”

Daera could see the reminiscence within the Queen’s eyes as she looked away, memories of a simpler time when dynasties were not at the brink of breaking apart. She had heard once that she and Princess Rhaenyra were friends once, and wondered how much of it was true.

But she had no chance to ask as the Queen gracefully invited them to pray at the Sept later in the afternoon, a proposition Daera could not bring herself to refuse as the last of the cakes were taken away. 

As both she and her brother made their way out of her solar, she found herself hindered by something tall and dark, managing to avoid colliding with it in time and not to make a complete fool of herself.

“Ah. Lady Daera Velaryon, I presume.” 

On her right, Aegon Targaryen was watching her with a half-concealed smile, standing nonchalantly on the threshold. She had to clear her throat in order to compose herself as her brother came to a stop next to her, as taken aback as she was.

“Prince Aegon,” she bowed, unsure, their last encounter still fresh in her mind.

“It seems that you have beaten us to my mother’s, the both of you,” he remarked, glancing at Daemion who looked up at him bashfully. “I hope she will forgive us. We were quite… occupied.”

Daera finally lifted her head to the tall shadow in front of her and when she saw who she had almost crashed into, she felt a shiver travel down her spine. 

He was unmistakable, with his long silver hair, a sharp jawline, a single lilac eye staring at her with indifference and the other covered by a leather patch that hid part of a long scar across his pale skin she had seen red with blood in her youth. He was tall, much more so than his brother, lean, dressed in green leather and hands laced behind his back in a flawless confident manner.

Aemond Targaryen. 

He had not moved an inch, evidently unbothered by the way she had almost collided with him and as she stared she only saw how his eye coldly examined her, as if she was but a mere obstacle on his path.

She could smell something of a mix between smoke and spice from their close proximity, noticing the lack of dragon scent she had expected from him. It engulfed her senses at once, making her eyes flutter.

He looked like a Prince, a proper one from, as beautiful and biting as the sun.

“My brother, Aemond,” Aegon introduced, tapping lightly on his brother’s back before reporting his gaze to Daera, evidently staring. “But you surely remember him, as he left quite the souvenir at High Tide, didn’t he?”

Aemond had no reaction, keeping his demeanour stiff, his rosy lips drawn in a thin line as he kept an unfaltering gaze on her. She knew him quite cold from reputation, but had not expected to feel this way, the scrutiny.

“Prince Aemond,” she bowed, not leaving his single eye and she let out a breath she did not know she was holding when he finally granted her and Daemion a slight nod, indicating that he was a living breathing person capable of movement. However he remained completely silent, and she instantly wished that he would talk, even for a short moment. One word and she would have confirmation that her suspicions about her encounter in the streets of the capital had been right.

One word and she would know why she had felt that way.

Instead, he remained immobile, expressionless, and she realised she had been staring for far too long.

“You seem tired, Lady Velaryon,” Aegon spoke again, narrowing his eyes in false concern. “Did you have trouble sleeping? Maybe a nightly promenade would have been most helpful. Or a ride perhaps?”

While Daemion next to her stiffened at the Prince's indelicacy upon questioning a grieving person on their looks, Daera was glad to finally see a reaction in the second son who snapped his head towards his brother suspiciously.

“I have done exactly that, actually,” she smiled softly, “I happened to have found my journey quite revealing, as it turns out. Nothing beats the bond that ties us to our dragon, even though the smell I would be glad without,” she kept on, feeling the fleeting glance Aemond gave her, “You seem to be well rested yourself, Prince Aegon.”

She felt the confusion radiate from Aemond as his brother’s smile widened, joyful. “In perfect shape. Nothing more than a good night's sleep to brighten the mood.”

Aemond had his eye narrowed in deep wariness while Daemion was growing impatient, if not uncomfortable.

“The Queen awaits,” came the voice of the dornish looking Kingsguard behind Daera, and she quickly bowed to the Princes before strolling away.

“What did you do?” Aemond asked as soon as he was certain the Velaryons were out of ear shot.

“Nothing,” answered Aegon with exaggerated confusion. “I am not always the one to blame, brother. I could surprise you."

“Do not lie to me, Aegon. I know you were not in your chambers last night.”

“Oh, and you know that how? Since you weren't in yours either?”

Aemond gave him a fuming look as he stepped away in order to let him pass the door to their mother’s solar. Right before he followed, he allowed himself a glance at the two departing forms in the corridor, and tried to remain stiff when the gaze of Daera stared back at him as she turned a corner.

“You have been summoned to the Small Hall.”

Daera looked confused before the white armoured Kingsguard that stood at her door. “But I am to meet with the Queen at the Sept-”

“The Queen is already there with his Grace, the King,” he cut in. "You are to take place beside your household.”

Daera only understood when the Knight waited for her to follow him before going to her brother’s chambers. Her family had arrived and had gone straight to seek an audience with the King without coming to see them first. Daera realised that her brother would have to suffer another public appearance much sooner than expected.

The Small Hall was grand despite the name, with pillars akin to the Throne room placed on each side, however much more humbly carved and candlelights coursing each of them. The Crown had apparently not been willing to repeat the debacle that had been Vaemond and Rhaenyra’s petition and gathered a smaller crowd, faces she did not recognise looking back at her. A single chair had been put at the end of the room, elevated over the people, and Daera was surprised to see the King even in attendance. He was a decaying thing, she thought, barely able to open his single eye, hair falling like broken strings at either side of his face, crown evidently too heavy on his head as he was coated within a dense mantel that was far too big for his frame.

Alicent Hightower stood at his side, silent as she roamed the room like a hawk while further at the side of them stood a man with a Hand designed pin on his robes, a gleaming eye observing her entrance. But what caught her eye was first the bored look of Aegon standing next to his grandfather, and beside him, Aemond.

He truly had the appearance of a Targaryen, her heart jolting in her chest when his gaze landed directly on her, drawn like a magnet. He may not have been the first-born, or even the first male-born son, but everything in him breathed royalty, from his manner of standing to the way he seemed to consider everything around him as owed, like he could make them all bend to his will in a matter of seconds. Without the eye patch, without what made him a monster in reputation, he would have been the most prized possession of the Red Keep.

Mesmerised, she did not have the good sense to break eye contact until she was forced to by the calling of her name. “Daera, Daemion!”

“Mother!” Daemion ran into Lady Elinda’s arms, affectionately wrapping them around his little shoulders. Lady Elinda wore the aquamarine colours of her house, long hair gathered in an intricate bun on her head and the silver seahorse adorning her sleeves, exhausted traits but evidently happy to see her children.

Daera smiled widely while she kissed her mother and greeted the two cousins that stood beside her, their hair dishevelled by the sea wind. They didn't waste a second to whisper inquisitive questions in her ears as they cast a hard gaze on the king. 

“Have you been able to talk to the Queen, Daera?” asked Gaemon, not wasting any time to dive into the matter at hand.

“I did. I do believe that she had been helpless in the face of what happened to father. It’s only the Rogue Prince’s doing. And the King’s.”

She was careful to utter her last sentence as quietly as possible, and Gaemon nodded in acknowledgement while exchanging a knowing glance with Malentine as he straightened up to gaze at the King, seated before them all.

“Let us be quick with this… matter,” the King began, breath ragged by the effort as he waved a heavy hand toward Otto Hightower. “They may come forward.”

Daera took her place beside her mother and Daemion, doing her best to make herself as unremarkable as possible standing at the opposite side from where the princelings were standing while her great-cousins advanced.

She noticed that Helaena was absent, the Princess apparently excluded from such gatherings after the ‘incident’, and while she watched Aegon yawn, evidently regretting having participated at all already, Daera searched the many faces present and couldn’t help but remark a very obvious absence: Rhaenys Targaryen.

Did the royals forget to summon her for matters regarding her House? Or did they do it on purpose? Was it why the audience had been precipitated?

“Your Grace, we have come first and foremost to retrieve the body of our kin, Vaemond Velaryon, in order to honour his death with our customs.”

“Yes, yes… Very well. I regret the loss you suffered my Lords. I truly… truly do.”

Daera tried not to visibly wince at the obvious pain the man was under. Malentine spoke next.

“But we came for another purpose, a request, a fair one we wager. Our cousin came to claim his right, his birthright to this court, seeking help from the highest authority there is, on that should be impartial. Yet he was blatantly murdered.”

The room fell silent while the court reminisced Daemon’s crime, not knowing exactly how the King would handle the accusatory tone of Malentine as he kept on, “We demand reparation.”

From her position, she could feel the many eyes staring at the King, awaiting his reaction. But only one eye was set into her great cousin’s sight still, gaze so intense that she was certain she could feel it on her flesh, that it even reached her from this distance. Aemond Targaryen was still as a statue, but she could feel the fire emanating from him.

“And what… What do you suggest… I do?” the King spoke, eyes slightly wider than before, but head lolling nonetheless. “I did not order it and Lord Vaemond was surely not… innocent. He advanced… traitorous claims in his petition. His death is regrettable however…” he kept on, such a long sentence draining his strength and Daera wondered how on earth he could still be alive, “However, I cannot grant your family reparation over the matter… The issue of the succession has been settled.”

It seemed like the Viserys wanted to continue, but nothing else came while Daera felt the two Velaryon men fidget frustratingly in their spot, the decision over the succession of Driftmark still carved in their skins like an insult, as an additional layer to their humiliation, to their loss.

Because they all knew the truth about Lucerys Velaryon.

“Your Grace, nothing in this had been dealt with fairness. Our cousin came with a viable claim, one that would spare our House from great humiliation,” continued Malentine, much more prone to anger than his counterpart. “Great insult had been inflicted to our House, to our name. And we have been punished for this. His wife and children have suffered as well,” he said, gesturing toward where you stood, “The Rogue Prince had no right to do justice himself while ours were violated without consequences!”

Nobody dared to speak while Viserys slightly straightened up in his chair, leaning on his cane. 

“And what… rights, have been violated exactly, my Lords? Corlys Velaryon is still your House’s Lord, and let him be found dead or alive, the matter is quite… clear. His grandson will inherit the Driftwood Throne, as Princess Rhaenys agreed to and as I reinstituted… Your cousin’s claim was moot from the start.”

Malentine was about to speak again, but the calmer and stronger voice of Gaemon came to drown it, “We concede to the contrary, your Grace. There is nothing moot in our late cousin’s claim, and we humbly demand that you reconsider what has previously been assessed. We came both to reiterate his petition to our own benefit, as well as justice to be done. If you do not plan to make his murderer answer for his crime, at least your Grace, grant us the seat of our House as reparation. Do what is right."

Daera braced herself as she felt her brother stiffen beside her. Once again, a petition had been stated, and once again, Lucerys Velaryon’s lineage was subtly put into question, and nothing about it pleased Viserys.

“Am I to understand… that you would put into question… my ruling? What has been decided? By your King?”

Alicent Hightower’s chest heaved as she took a sharp breath, eyes somewhere on the ceiling while her father seemed to be gauging Gaemon’s next action, hands tensely linked at his front. On the side, Aegon seemed to be far more entertained than he had been minutes before, brows raised in expectation slightly while next to him his brother wore a completely different expression. 

He had one side of his lip somewhat twisted upward, as if repressing a wry smile that Daera would have found quite enticing if it was in any other situation. His eye was darting from his father to Malentine, calmly examining their behaviours. Suddenly, as if he felt her staring, his gaze landed straight on her.

His smile dropped gradually, his chin turning completely toward her. She swallowed, the uneasy feeling at the back of her neck coming back, its warmth spreading to her cheeks as she held his gaze, unable to tear apart from it, as if stuck in a staring contest. The room became momentarily blurry around her while Gaemond answered the King, but she managed to only hear half of what he was saying. Aemond’s lilac eye, even from afar, felt like scrutiny, like he dared her into action, as if he could read all of her anguish and helplessness on her face. She wished she could do the same, but all she saw was his ardent gaze devouring her, features unmoving except from the subtle parting of his lips and her mind was instantly filled with the need to hear his voice, to know what he sounded like, memories of the man in the cloak so vividly imprinted in her. She avidly wanted to hear it, to finally link that stranger to the Targaryen looking at her.

"-for our House, for our blood. Your ruling cost my cousin’s head, as well as our legacy’s sake. You cannot expect us to remain silent while we are robbed of both justice and legacy. He may be your brother, but he cannot be discarded from punishment.”

“Vaemond Velaryon… uttered slanders against the Crown, put into question the integrity of-”

“And he had paid the ultimate price for that. Without a trial, only by the audacity of a man that had none to answer for, simply by telling the truth. Is that your justice? Is that how you have reigned all these years? Upon lies?”

Both Daera and Aemond reported their gaze back at Gaemon’s cold statement at the same time, an icy sensation filling her again as her mother clutched Daemion’s shoulder next to her, bringing him closer.

Viserys was silent for a long while, mouth open as ready to shout, “Lucerys Velaryon is heir to the throne, by blood. He is the grandson of Corlys Velaryon, rightful heir of Laenor Velaryon.”

Malentine inhaled sharply, carefully choosing his next words and frustrated by the King’s obstinacy. “You may think so, your Grace, but this boy cannot command the greatest fleet of Westeros. He cannot command all of the wealth of House Velaryon because it is not owed to him. He is already in line to the Iron Throne, then so be it!” he exclaimed, drawing both Alicent and Otto’s attention to him, “Let him covet your seat, but do let him out of the Driftmark’s succession, stop this masquerade and reinstitute a Velaryon on the Driftwood Throne.”

Many in the room started to whisper, but it died as soon as the strong panting breath of the King made itself heard again, “Owed?... Reinstitute? Lucerys Velaryon is the blood of Corlys Velaryon, and you wish to deny his claim?”

“My King, nothing in their claim-” advanced the Hand in an attempt to talk to the King.

“Is it my daughter you are speaking of, my Lord?” raged the King anew, leaning further on his cane.

Otto stopped in his tracks while Alicent inhaled sharply.

Daera observed his face and she could suddenly see the Great Hall of Nine, lit by many candles as the moon shone outside over the crashing waves, could see the King standing and shouting at the crowd around him while Aemond Targaryen’s eyelid was being sewn back, his blood dripping on the floor.

“And let it be known: anyone whose tongue dares to question the birth of Princess Rhaenyra’s sons should have it removed.”

“No,” she breathed, taking an imperceptible step forward, fear clawing at her as she remembered the King’s threat. Only one soul had seen her and heard her, his lilac eye now looking at her frightened face.

Both Gaemon and Malentine had raised their chins in defiance as Viserys looked at them with utter disbelief, the Queen and the Hand powerless while Daera’s heart hammered in her chest. However, Gaemon, always level-headed, chose to tread carefully.

“I once again simply demand to be considered as heir to Driftmark and be granted the title upon my uncle’s unfortunate potential demise-”

“I WILL BE… ANSWERED!” shouted the King, his voice twisting into a shrilling sound that made everybody gasp, “Are you so naive as to state the same slanders your cousin spoke? Do you believe I did not hear it?”

“Nothing in Vaemond’s claims was slander, and it is great time that you acknowledge that, despite your obvious lack of sense of justice. Lucerys Velaryon shares no blood with us and I am tired of pretending otherwise.” 

As Malentine’s words resonated in the hall, a short silence lingered, and then it all went fast.

The White Cloaks surrounded both of them as Daera’s worst fears took form before her eyes. Viserys yelled orders to have their tongues removed as an armoured hand stopped her from going to her relatives. She could see Otto Hightower speaking hasty words to the King as Alicent brought a hand to her mouth. She saw Malentine’s sword being raised in the air before he was disarmed, Gaemon shouting at him to stand down.

Daera felt her insides twist in horror as she witnessed her great-cousins being dragged away unceremoniously, shouting their indignation, and only her mother’s pull on her arm made her realise that she had rushed to them in panic before a guard had managed to stop her course. But she didn’t yield into her mother’s touch, feeling that she was screaming but unable to hear herself among the mayhem that surrounded her. Soon other guards came to surround them upon seeing her tussle and she was immobilised. 

Daera thought for an instant that she would witness her great-cousin’s tongues be removed in front of her, right here on the pavement stone, but she quickly understood that they would be taken down below, in the Dungeon, leaving the Small Hall completely in disarray and rid of the last remnant of her father’s wishes.

Daemion was trembling, head buried in her mother’s robes while Viserys moaned in pain upon his chair, the Queen at his side who spoke to him with concern, urgency in her words. But Daera could not bear to look in this direction, numb to what this monarch represented while her family was humiliated once again, all for a matter of succession that went beyond her own House.

When she was finally forcefully led away from the room, she did not see the single eye that followed her out, fascinated.

Chapter 3

Thank you @babyblue711 & @arcielee for beta.

Taglist: @knightprincess@baconturtle@witheredoffherwitch@lexwolfhale @toodlesxcuddles @watercolorskyy

[theladyofbloodshed]

A Court of Tangled Flames - Epilogue

Big, big thank you to my Neris lovers who've enjoyed this fic. A kiss on the forehead for all of you.

Life as lady of the castle was perfectly splendid. Nesta felt as if she was playing pretend most days - as though somebody would pinch her then she would wake up back in their run down cottage in the woods. Life was good. More than that, it was brilliant. She never wanted to go to bed, always wished the evenings would stretch out for longer, or she looked forward to the next day to see what it held. New servants had settled within the castle including a cook who found Nesta to be far too skinny for his liking, so spent his days concocting new creations in the kitchen for her to try. Eris had established solid trade agreements with both the Summer and Winter court so there had been an influx of new foods and spices flitting over the border for her to try. It did mean though that her body was softening. Instead of hollowed out, sharp cheek bones, when she smiled, her cheeks were like two rounded apples. She resembled Elain more that way.

Her mother-in-law visited from time to time and tried to encourage her to share her love of gardening but it was not for Nesta at all. Flowers were lovely to gaze upon, but having soil wedged under her fingernails was irksome. A handful of times when Lucien had visited in search of his mother, Nesta had gone with him to fish. She despised that too – and screamed the first time her line caught a fish – but it was enjoyable to sit beside the sea and watch the world roll by. Lucien was always good company. They never mentioned Elain or Beron, but found their own conversations. Nesta had also traded getting pummelled into the mud by Niamh for riding. She found she rather enjoyed the company of the horses, once she had learned how to saddle and brush her mare down. It allowed for freedom to explore without needing to know a destination like when she winnowed.

Without any coaxing from Eris, Nesta wanted to take a more hands-on approach to his court. Their court. Her court. Delight lit up his face at her suggestion. There had been no encouragement from him to do it but she felt it was her duty to be seen as their lady. His reign had not been without difficulty; a number of loyalists to Beron still remained though Nesta could not understand how the male had ever warranted such support. 

Her days were spent flanked by soldiers visiting far flung villages to speak with the locals about their lives. It was important to Nesta to be present. There were likely many families like hers who didn’t have a voice, who had empty bellies, and cold, stiff fingers. When she proposed helping those families, Eris did not try to talk her out of it. On the contrary, he led her to the vaults beneath the Forest House and encouraged her to see if she could make a dent in the vast hoard of treasure. Handing out gold did nothing though. Money would have solved many of their problems as mortals but it never got to the root of it. 

‘The farmers need to be supported financially. Farming needs to be seen as desirable to encourage more into the profession. It is hard work and not for the faint-hearted.’

Eris nodded from his seat at his desk. ‘A court with full bellies is a happy court.’

‘Can I count on you to propose it at a council meeting?’

He reached out his hand for her to take then Nesta was pulled onto his lap. He kissed her cheek. ‘You could do it.’

‘Certainly not. You can wage war for me. I will stay here and look beautiful.’

‘To which you do an excellent job, my love.’ His lips grazed against the curve between her neck and shoulder. ‘The offer is always there to speak up in council meetings. You offer a perspective to one of the rarest populations in the court.’

Her brows furrowed at his words. ‘And who is that?’

‘Those lucky enough to be married to such a handsome male. Such a rarity.’

Nesta couldn’t hide her snort as she climbed off from his lap. ‘What a high opinion you have of yourself. For clarification’s sake, Azriel is objectively prettier than you.’ Before Eris could raise a complaint, she held out her hand. ‘Come, my darling husband, or I will begin to think you are having an affair with your paperwork.’

Indeed, Eris shuffled to bed later and later as court duties kept him busy. He needed to learn to delegate, but his upbringing meant that he was unlikely to trust others with such important tasks.

In their new bedroom, Eris collapsed onto the bed with a sigh. Each of them had a pile of books on the bedside table; hers were romances whilst his were ancient texts about Prythian. Out of the corner of her eye, Nesta caught sight of the eight-pointed star on her back in black ink. It was a constant reminder of her life in Velaris. In the bond’s absence, she felt no different. There had been no ill-effects on her. But this tattoo lingered there, marring her skin.

‘What do we do with this?’

Eris caught her eye in the reflection of the mirror. ‘Keep it so we always have a higher ground against he who shall not be named.’

‘I hate it. It’s ugly and reminds me of him.’

It was a discussion that they had had many times before with no clear path through. Although Nesta could understand the merits of keeping it, she did not need a reminder of her life under Cassian’s rule. She wanted to move on from it all. To do that, it meant fulfilling the deal which had to be done face-to-face and she wasn’t ready for it yet, nor did she know what she would ask him for.

A knee sunk into the mattress as Nesta crawled towards Eris. She curled up beside him then brought his arm around her body. ‘I don’t want you to go tomorrow.'

Never in her wildest dreams did Nesta think she’d be begging a male to stay in her bed. And she’d never admit that to Eris because he’d gloat about how amazing he was.

‘It’s one night. I believe you told me that on Solstice.’

‘Yes – and look what happened then. What if you find your mate when you’re apart from me?’

There hadn’t been a night apart since Solstice when everything had gone disastrously wrong at breakfast. Even on the nights where Eris was late to bed, Nesta could never settle fully until he was beside her, no matter how tired her body was. It somehow always knew he wasn’t next to her.

‘I will spend the night with my brothers. I truly hope a bond does not snap to one of them or the Mother has a very wrong sense of humour.’

Nesta made a harumphing noise, still not happy with the arrangements.

‘And it’s tradition,’ he added.

Nesta gave a little groan as she nuzzled closer to him. ‘We are already married.’

As was his nature, Eris had insisted on researching absolutely everything about mortal weddings. He had bugged Lucien to allow him to talk to Jurian about it though the male had little information to pass on and the scant information he did have was severely outdated.

‘That tradition exists because couples never spend time together without chaperones so they do not engage in physical acts. We are married and have engaged in them.’

‘Multiple times,’ Eris said.

‘Exactly. So why do you need to spend a night away from me?’

Eris’ arm tightened around her body, squeezing the air from Nesta’s lungs. He gave a noise of discontent. ‘Because I have arranged for Gwyn and Emerie to stay in my stead but you cannot let me ever surprise you.’

That was a surprise. Nesta prised his arm away and rose up on her elbows, eyes lightening with excitement. ‘Truly? They’re coming here?’

In his dramatic fashion, Eris clutched a hand over his heart. ‘You would accuse me of lying?’

She couldn’t resist arching a brow at his question which made him smirk.

‘I never lie to you. Others, yes. To you, I simply omit some truths on the rare occasion.’

***

The desperation to give Nesta a mortal ceremony was an itch that could never quite by sated. There were countless obstacles that Eris could not manage to overcome. As Elin still required feeding every couple of hours, Feyre Archeron could not attend the wedding without bringing the babe which had been strictly forbidden by Rhysand therefore Feyre would not be attending. Nesta had taken the news well enough, shrugging that she had not expected her to come anyway. He had teased her, asking how she’d respond if he tried to forbid her from doing anything. Nesta had given him a look that suggested Eris would find his knife wedged into his balls if he tried such a thing, having well and truly had enough of others ruling her life.

Elain had not replied either way. Lucien had asked her directly for Nesta’s benefit and Eris would even put up with their shadow singer in attendance if that could coax the elusive, middle Archeron to the wedding. Still, she had not committed herself to the wedding. That one did hurt Nesta. She tossed off her hurts, throwing her hands in the air and declaring why should she care if her sisters couldn’t make an effort, but that told Eris enough.

Emerie had been easy enough to bring to the Autumn Court as Niamh was still a regular feature of her life. Gwyneth had been difficult, but Lucien had managed it all for him. At least there were two guests that Nesta truly wanted in attendance. He had to wonder what the females were up to in Nesta’s last night of freedom. Eris imagined it involved a great deal of squealing and laughing in Orla's home.

A far cry to his evening trying to resurrect a relationship between his brothers after centuries at each other’s throats. Still, Eris tried for their mother’s benefit. It was painful. Wedging splinters into his nailbeds might have been preferable. They had opted for archery and drinking. What could possibly go wrong? Ashur was on hand – sober – to ensure none of his brothers shot a wayward arrow through his heart. Eris did not truly think they would dare because they were utterly terrified of his darling wife. He might have dropped information into conversations between them about her penchant for revenge and devotion to him to enhance those beliefs.  

Eris knocked an arrow to his bow then shot an apple from the tree.

‘Easy shot,’ smirked Phelan.

His brother had adapted well enough to one hand. Instead of the long bow, he managed to use a crossbow and a specially made device that was fitted onto his stump to hold the bow. Phelan’s brow creased as he loaded an arrow then aimed for one of the fruits near the top of the tree. The arrow went wide, grazing the skin but not succeeding in tearing the apple from the tree.

‘I’ve only got one hand,’ he said by way of an excuse.

Lucien, who had always been the best with a bow, could not resist the opportunity to show off. ‘And I’ve got one eye.’

His arrow hit the apple that Fellen had aimed for, but as the fruit fell, he shot another. The arrow pierced it and held it in place against the trunk at head height.

Uther rolled his eyes at the display.

‘Amarantha would have been better off cutting out your tongue,’ muttered Xander.

They never spoke of that time beneath the mountain. It was an unspoken rule across Prythian that those fifty years weren’t to be spoken about. Lucien had freedom during that time, but Eris doubted it was pleasant. Maybe one day, the brothers would heal their wounds together. It was too much to manage for now. Having Lucien present amongst the others was already tentative ground.

‘Lucky for me, I have both hands and both eyes – and my tongue,’ said Eris, stepping in before any words could be said about Hybern’s general. ‘And I taught all of you everything you know.’

He downed a shot then loosed another arrow that embedded itself a whisker away from Lucien’s arrow.

‘Mother will have kittens if we tarry too long.’

It earned a collective laugh from his brothers then Uther chimed in with comments about being a mama’s boy. A secret part of him was glad for them.

***

Being walked down the aisle was a rite of passage denied to Nesta. Had her father been alive, she could not say that she truly would have wanted it either. Eris would have been a perfect choice hand-picked by her mother because, on the surface, he was rich beyond belief, with an outstanding social status. She’d have disregarded the infamous cruelty. They would not have cared if he really was wicked because their goal for Nesta was to stamp her way to the top. She supposed she had simply been lucky that beneath it all, Eris had a heart made of gold.

‘Oh, look at you,’ murmured Orla, dabbing at her eyes, as she gazed at Nesta in her wedding gown.

‘It’s only a wedding,’ Nesta said, casting off the compliment before it landed.

Gwyn’s eyes popped. ‘You’re not excited?’

‘I am,’ she insisted, ‘but he’s already my husband. We already have our life together.’

Niamh, who was finishing threading flowers through Emerie’s glossy curtain of hair, shrugged one shoulder. ‘I think it’s Eris’ excuse to ply you with more cake. Since you’re filling out your clothes better, you both reek of sex.’ She flashed a sharp-toothed grin. ‘More to grab onto.’

It was true that her changing body had been well-received by Eris. Her softer thighs were plastered with kisses. His hand never strayed far from her stomach even when she tried to breathe in and hide it. Where her skin had stretched on her hips, faint threads of purple could be seen, but any discomfort over them was washed away by Eris’ gentle caresses. As Niamh had said, there was more to hold onto. Her wedding dress had been altered a number of times to the point where the seamstress had threatened to cut her off desserts if she had to adjust the gown again. Nesta had asked Eris if he preferred her when she was heavier, but he’d replied that he preferred her when she was happy.

‘The carriage is here,’ Emerie called. Her hands were braced on the windowsill, peering out towards the garden.

A small smile ticked up the corner of Nesta’s mouth. ‘Wouldn’t it be delightfully funny if we did not show up?’

Niamh cackled at the suggestion.

‘Oh, don’t be so cruel to him,’ said Orla though she tried to hide her own smile.

She was tempted to send Safila wearing her veil though she’d miss out in seeing Eris’ exasperate expression.

Her night had been spent giggling into the darkness with her friends at Orla’s house. Gwyn had fallen asleep first so Nesta had moved into bed with Emerie to continue talking without disturbing, but they hadn’t slept until the first rays of light were beginning to bleed into the sky. The thought of having to socialise all day with stiff-upper-lipped lesser lords of the Autumn Court did not thrill Nesta with joy. She could endure it for her husband.

Their chatter didn’t fade as they climbed into the carriage and gazed out upon the rich forests of the court that she called home. It hurt her a lot that Feyre and Elain couldn’t make an effort for her wedding, but she had the females that mattered in the carriage with her. Gwyn and Emerie had gotten her through her most miserable moments in Velaris, and Orla had done the same when she had arrived to the Autumn Court. And Niamh, well, she was just Niamh. The female in question had cocked her legs over the side of the carriage so they hung loosely – wild through it all.

The castle came into view on the horizon. A salty sea wind blew through their hair. Never did Nesta think she’d be so calm around open water after everything that had happened, but she did enjoy spending every moment that she could gazing out across the sea.

Her lips parted in confusion when the carriage veered towards the left rather than the well-worn path towards the castle.

‘Where are we going?’

She craned her neck behind her, trying to catch a glimpse of flowers or guests, but came up empty. None of the others seemed remarkably surprised by the carriage’s direction.

Gwyn and Orla had to force themselves backwards into their seats as the carriage made its way up a steep hill otherwise they’d have fallen into Nesta’s lap. Her own back was pressed against the seat from the tilt of the hill.

‘I do hope the horses will make it,’ murmured Emerie.

Niamh flashed her a wide smile. ‘If they fail, I’ll pull us along.’

It earned a snort of laughter from her sister.

‘Through love, anything is possible,’ Niamh shot back.

‘So it seems, dear sister.’

Nesta raised her eyebrows. ‘Is it bad if I almost wish the horses would stop to see Niamh try.’

‘It can be a wedding gift.’

The carriage rolled to a stop and eyes fell to Niamh, but she jerked her chin to a path ahead. Pink and purple heather had been cut back to reveal a sloping path covered in sand.

‘Does my husband intend we hike to the altar?’

‘You’ll see,’ said Orla with a wink as she held open the door to the carriage for them all to exit. ‘We’ll go first as is your mortal tradition.’

These confounded traditions, thought Nesta. As her friends began the short walk upwards, her heart fluttered against her ribs. It was silly. They were already married. Why did she feel so nervous at the prospect of marrying him again? Nesta had been vehement that in the absence of her father – whom she would not have wanted to do the task anyway – she needed nobody to give her away. No more males needed to rule her. Although Lucien had offered, Nesta knew how to take care of herself now. It did mean that she had to do this walk alone and she was terribly struck by nerves all of a sudden.

When Emerie’s wings became a blur on the horizon, Nesta began her own walk. The warmth was pleasant enough though not stifling and she was helped along by the brisk wind blowing upwards from the sea. She pinched her skirts with one hand, lifting them from the sand, and held her bouquet with the other. It lacked elegance or subtlety; bright sunflower heads were interspersed with deep red roses. They had been grown by her mother-in-law however which made it far more special.

The breath whooshed out of her lungs as she crested the hill. Nesta had expected row upon row of sour-tempered old males who were invited out of duty as well as numerous representatives of other courts who were all strangers.

She was sorely wrong.

Amongst the rugged gorse and lichen-covered stone, a modest crowd was gathered. There were less than thirty in total, and all ones that Nesta knew personally. It was so relaxed. Maceo was there, sat beside Lucien. Ashur sat behind them with two others that Nesta recognised as Eris’ closest males within the army. Her group of females, in their burnt orange gowns, stood to one side of the altar, smiling and whispering. A jolt of shock ran through Nesta at the sight of Elain, hesitant and nervous, but resplendent in a pale-yellow dress in a seat next to Eliška. Her heart softened and her eyes grew teary.

Eris held his hand for her to take as she reached him.

He stood beneath a canopy that was dripping with brightly coloured flowers. The view from the cliff that Eris had chosen for their wedding was incredible. The sea stretched out in front of them; powerful waves met the cliff. Their castle stood in full view amongst the shallows and a tall ship was moored at the port further in the distance.

‘On a clear day, you can make out the Cliffs of Mohirn on the Continent,’ he murmured, squeezing her hand.

‘It’s very pretty, but you assured me you’d never make me hike.’

‘It was a little hill.’

‘In a wedding gown.’

‘And how beautiful you are with colour in your cheeks,’ he leaned down to kiss one.

A priestess that she recognised as the one who officiated their rushed ceremony where Nesta wore a night gown was there to officiate once more. She gave Nesta a smile in greeting, likely thinking of that day. The vows that day had been repeated in a state of numb disbelief.

They held hands, facing each other. There was a slight tremble to Eris’ hands.

‘Why are you nervous?’ She whispered. ‘It’s not like I can say no when I’m already married to you.’

That remark had his lips curving into a smile. ‘True enough.’

Her thumb drove in a circle atop his as she recited her vows. ‘I vow to protect you, to love you, to worship you, and to always be at your side. As the Mother is my witness, I am forever yours.’

Eris turned to the awaiting crowd, ‘We all heard her vow to worship me, didn’t we?’

‘I’ll have a statue built to the sky in your honour,’ she replied, rolling her eyes.

For his, Eris released her hands. She was pulled a step closer. One hand rested on the small of her back, the other cupped her face. She loved those amber eyes, the sharp edges of his face, the constant whirring of the gears behind it all.

‘I vow to protect you, to love you, to worship you, and to always be at your side. As the Mother is my witness, I am forever yours. You lucky thing.’

The kiss was chaste in the presence of his mother, Nesta was delighted to note. A faint pink even stole across Eris’ cheeks. She leaned towards his ear and whispered, ‘Like a blushing maiden.’

The evening was beautiful. There was no awkwardness when all the guests were such good friends. Even the Vanserra brothers were on their best behaviour under the watchful eye of their mother. The female in question had well and truly bloomed once more. She laughed easily, reminding Nesta of Lucien; she had a wit as quick as Eris’ and engaged anybody in delighted conversation. Her and Orla gravitated towards each other too.

Nesta had danced with every guest, including Elain where she took the lead as if she was male, making Elain giggle. ‘I’m so glad you came.’

‘I am glad to be here.’

‘Did Lucien-’

‘Yes,’ she replied quickly. ‘He persuaded me.’

A grin spread across Nesta’s face. ‘Did he now.’

‘Not like that,’ she clarified, colour blooming in her cheeks. ‘He said his mother had rare orchids in a greenhouse amongst other plants and I could take as many cuttings as I wanted back to Velaris.’

Nesta had to wonder whether her mother-in-law had perhaps planted that seed in her son’s mind. It did not bother her either way; she was simply glad Elain could be a part of the celebrations.

Eventually, Eris managed to spirit her away from the dancing by hauling her into his arms and carrying her off. His fire danced above the ground, lighting the way, then they stopped near the edge of a cliff.

‘You’re not planning on throwing me, are you?’

He laughed heartily. ‘Not today.’

His lips pressed against her neck. ‘Did you see the tall ship earlier?’

‘I did.’

‘I heard it is a tradition for newly-wedded couples to take a trip and enjoy each other’s company.’ Another kiss. ‘Winnowing seems dull when I could pretend that I know how to sail.’

‘We’re going on that ship?’   

Eris nodded. ‘If we don’t like it, we can abandon the crew and winnow. I might get terrible sea sickness.’

‘The High Lord of the Autumn Court defeated by waves.’ Nesta linked her fingers into Eris’ and brought his hands to rest on her abdomen as she leant back against him. ‘What is our destination, captain?’

‘The Continent. Elain mentioned that you always wanted to. Think of all the book shops and bakeries that you can explore.’ He gave a soft laugh. ‘I’ve been monitoring Briallyn and Koschei. Azriel too. I’d never take you to danger. Everything is safe.’

‘You are wonderful.’

‘I know,’ he replied, kissing her again. ‘But so are you. My wife is so nice that I married her twice.’

‘Oh no, don’t tell people that.’

Nesta knew that would only encourage him. Once he decided to be mischievous, little could ever dissuade Eris.  

‘I might change my name to Eris Archeron.’

‘Do I need to divorce you twice or will just once do the trick?’

Eris held her hand, ready to lead her back to the crowd. ‘Thank you for taking a chance on me, many months ago. It was the best thing that ever happened in my life.’

‘And now we have a forever together.’

‘Here’s to forever, my love.’

[dreamdepot]

Dreams of the Kingdom Ch. 6 - Stop the Presses!

Edited 7/9/2024 - Updated chapter navigation links

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As you and Link head towards Zora's Domain, distractions - err, side quests - seem to meet you at every turn. A prince's work is never done.

Read on: AO3 or Wattpad... or below!

“Think I might have to spring for that special water bed when we get to the Domain,” you said, stretching your stiff back. It had a been a long ride from Hebra. The two of you passed through Lookout Landing for a quick check in with Purah. Scorpis also passed on reports of a Hinox at Trilby Plains. That was short work for the both of you, so you decided to take a short stop at Woodland Stables to the north for lunch before continuing south to Zora’s Domain.

Link rolled his shoulders. “Yeah, not if I book it first.”

“You’d kick your Prince out of a special bed?”

He laughed. “Aren’t you the one who keeps saying you don’t want special treatment for being royal?”

“Not at times like this,” you groaned.

“Well, I suppose I could be convinced to share…”

You did have a comeback, but given you had arrived at the stables and children were about, you settled on a glare. Link checked the horses in at the stable. Both [H/n] and Epona seemed more than happy to rest and chow down. You were about to check your pack for what to cook for lunch when you overheard a conversation.

“…We got in our wagon to go to her. That’s when it happened…”

“Frightful, the whole thing! That’s when the woman with blonde hair jumped out in front of us. It was that woman, I tell you! She did something to the Great Fairy!”

That caught your attention. You saw that two members of a traveling musical troupe were explaining their story to a tall Rito, who was taking notes. “A blonde-haired woman… could it have been…”

“She did look an awful lot like Princess Zelda…”

You snagged Link and pulled him along with you to the group. “Excuse me, sorry to eavesdrop, but we overheard you talking about Princess Zelda?”

The Rito looked up from his notes. “Oh, are you guys friends of the princess?”

You and Link shared a look. “Uh, you could say that,” Link said. “Anyway, I’m Link and this is [Y/n].”

“Name’s Penn, ace reporter for the Lucky Clover Gazette!” He said with a lazy salute. “So, Link and [Y/n], right? Hah, funny, you guys have the same name as Hyrule’s power couple.”

Link was about to correct him, but you just patted his shoulder and shook your head. “Great to meet you Penn. So, you’re investigating the disappearance of Princess Zelda?”

“Not just that, but possible sightings. People all over Hyrule are saying they’ve seen the princess, so I’m following up on all the chirps and warbles.”

“We’ve been hearing a lot of rumors on our travels to the stables, though we never expected to have one of the weird sightings ourselves,” the young woman from the troupe said. “Oh, pardon me, my name is Violynne. This is Mastro.”

“A plea-a-asure to meet you!” The small man said with a tip of his top hat. “We were afraid that people would think we were a few notes short of a song, if you catch my meaning. Do you truly believe us?”

“Knowing my sis- I mean, Princess Zelda, stranger things have happened. Though it’s strange she’d jump out in front of you like that.”

“She was dressed really strangely too!” Violynne added. “It wasn’t anything like people wear today, even with those strange fashion designs coming from Hateno. It was almost like it was some kind of tribal dress?”

“White and green with strange jewelry?” Link asked. Both Mastro and Violynne nodded fervently. “So, it’s just like what I saw at the castle and what we saw in Hebra… when did this happen?”

“It was right after the castle rose into the sky!” Mastro said. “Our horse was scared off, and our beloved Breezer was hurt!”

“Breezer, was that the horse’s name?” Link asked.

“Don’t be silly, Breezer is our noble wagon!” Both you and Link turned to see the wagon with some missing wheels. “We haven’t been able to fix her and have been stuck at this stable since. And here all we wanted to do was perform for the Great Fairy since she’s refused to come out.”

Given the work you did to rebuild wagons after the Calamity for the trading company, you had more experience than most when it came to fixing them. Breezer was in fairly good condition; the wagon bed was unharmed and even looked to be watertight. The front axletree was also in good condition. The rear was another story. Not only had the wheels broken off, but the boreholes for the wheel linchpins was split. Normally, that would require an axle replacement, but you had something better.

“Hey Link, I’ll get my horse. Do you think you can do your thing?”

“My thing?”

“Y’know, with the whole…” You waved your hand around.

“Oh yeah, gotcha!”

By the time you’d fetched [H/n] (who was a bit fussy at being taken away from Epona), Link had slapped two new wheels onto Breezer, fused with Zonai technology. “Superb! Breezer rides again!” Mastro cheered.

“We’ll take you up to the Great Fairy, I’m sure she’d love to hear you play,” you said. As Link helped you hook up the wagon chains, you added, “I bet she has some answers on this too.”

It was a short ride up to the edge of the former Military Training Camp. Breezer rolled along perfectly, good as new, despite the green goopy appearance of the rear axle. “Great Fairy! We’re here to cheer you up!” Mastro shouted to the thorny green bulb. “Ready Violynne? And a one, and a two…”

As Violynne began her solo, you felt the same buzz in the back of your head from when you were fighting Colgera. Your vision blurred as her rosewood violin turned blue. The baton in Mastro’s hand also changed into an ornate silver design. For a moment, you felt as if the wind was moving in time with the song. Yet, just as quickly as it started, the feeling disappeared, right as Violynne finished.  

Suddenly, the green bulb began to tremble, blooming into a massive white and orange flower. Magical energy poured out from the center in a rolling mist. With a geyser of water, the Great Fairy Tera burst forth. “AH-HAAAAAA!!!”

Mastro jumped for joy. “Behold, Violynne! The Great Fairy graces us with her presence!”

“Truly divine!”

Tera leaned forward on the edge of the flower. “Hello darlings, I couldn’t help but come out to enjoy your beautiful music.”

As she started to chat with the musicians, a shout came from above you. “Hey, hey!” Penn swooped down to land next to you and Link. “Wow, you guys really solved this one quick! We should hire you full time!” He turned towards the giant woman. “So, this is… a Great Fairy.”

If Tera was offended, she didn’t show it. “I must admit I’m a little confused. The world isn’t at all how Princess Zelda described it to me. She said an awful gloom was spreading over the land, and that it would be soon lost to monsters. I hid myself away.”

“Zelda told you that?” You asked.

“Well,” Tera thought, tapping her lip with her long fingernail. “Now that I think about it, when she was speaking to me, I had the feeling that something wasn’t quite right. Perhaps it was someone else entirely…”

Penn scribbled furiously in his notepad. “On the bright side, the Great Fairy is back! That’s a big scoop! I gotta get this over to the newspaper!” Penn turned to the two of you. “I’m gonna take this story back, but I hope we can work together again on another story.”

“Penn wait,” Link said. “Have there been other sightings of Zelda like this?”

The reporter thought for a moment. “Well… there was mention of a sighting at the Dueling Peaks Stable.”

Dueling Peaks was a bit out of the way for your trip to Zora’s Domain, but it could be worth the trip if Zelda was there, real or fake. You looked to Link; he was thinking the same and nodded. “We’ll investigate for you,” you volunteered.

“Then, in that case, consider yourselves unofficial reporters for the Lucky Clover. In the meantime, I’ll get this written up. Soar Long!” And with that, the Rito reporter shot into the sky.

“Would you mind terribly if we joined you?” Violynne asked. “We’re heading to Dueling Peaks as well!”

“We’re going to reunite our members and recreate the Stable Trotters!” Mastro proclaimed. Before you or Link could respond, he added. “We’ll spread music across Hyrule and help all of the Great Fairies! We’ll get our things prepared to leave in the morning!”

The two happily left back down the mountain – forgetting Breezer was still hooked up to [H/n]. [H/n] snorted, not at all pleased they’d have to haul the wagon back down. “Well, I’m sure they appreciate you all the same,” Tera said. “If I may ask, would you please find my sisters and help them as well? Since you’re headed to Dueling Peaks, my dear sweet little sister Cotera said she would be there. Perhaps you could check on her?”

“Of course we will,” you said. “We’ll be traveling all across Hyrule, I’m sure we’ll find them.”

“Oh, thank you, this is why you’re my two favorite boys! Now, do either of you need a little boost on your clothing?”

“Just none of the touching,” Link said, arms crossed.

“Cross my heart,” the Great Fairy said. “And I am terribly sorry about that again, it was wrong. Besides, we ladies would never steal a taken man, especially one with such a handsome man of his own.” She winked at you. “Now, where should we begin…”

==============================

Dueling Peaks would be another day’s journey, so you all decided to sleep at the stable for the night. Before crawling into bed, you sat with Link at the edge of the river. He had his shirt off, and you were applying a homemade poultice on his burns. “I’m not sure if this really works for magic burns.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Link hummed. “It feels nice.”

You massaged the ointment in a bit more. “It isn’t starting to itch?”

“Not too bad. It just gets sore every now and then.”

You nodded. “It was really brave of you to do that. I don’t think I ever said thank you.”

“You don’t have to. I’m your knight, and more importantly, your boyfriend.”

“Still,” you laughed. “Thank you.” You looked at the burns, hoping that gloom or not they would heal soon. “I don’t know what I’d do without you – though maybe I wouldn’t have to worry so much about you getting hurt.”

Link groaned a bit as you worked a knot out. “Mmm, I know I wouldn’t have someone to help patch me up after without you.” You let your head drop to his shoulder as you traced the lines of the tattoos that formed from fusing his new arm. “Thanks for doing this, my prince.”

“I’m your boyfriend,” you parroted back.

“Still,” he laughed. The two of you laid back on the grass, looking up at the stars. “When was the last time we were able to just… do this?”

“Do what?”

“Just be two guys. No royal duties, no monsters. Just… us.”

You opened your mouth but paused. “I’m… not sure. That festival in Hateno?” Link was silent. You cuddled up against your knight. “Let’s enjoy tonight then. Tonight, we’re just two guys.” Link still remained quiet, but he leaned into your touch.

==

Perhaps the Great Fairy influenced your dream that night.

“Oh no, no, no! This won’t do at all!” You plucked the pins out of the mannequin with a grumble, tossing the fabric down. “What will Madame Couture say when I can’t get this right?” You groaned, knowing her other apprentice would probably have some kind of comment. “I swear, if that smug, green-haired little shit-”

“You good?”

You squealed, tossing your materials in air. “Oh, it’s you. I’m sorry, your new costume isn’t ready yet. I’ve been having trouble…” You then realized what he had overheard. “Wait, no, when I meant green-haired, I didn’t mean-”

“Nah I know,” Link shrugged. “I’m normally a blond anyway, it’s just green when the Doppel Master does his thing. And don’t worry about being behind. It’s better than anything I can do. I swear, you’ve got to be magic to do this.”

“Oh, it’s nothing really! I’m sure you’d pick it up quickly.”

“Yeaaah no. I used to work for a blacksmith before I came here, and believe me, the only thing I could make was junk. He only let me deliver things.”

“I highly doubt that. You always know how to make the best use of Madame Couture’s outfits on your adventures into the Drablands. I’m sure you’re just as resourceful at the forge.” You frowned as you looked at the mannequin. “I’m sure you know the feeling of having a creative block too.”

“Yeah,” Link muttered. “Maybe you need a break?”

“Well…”

“C’mon,” Link said, taking your hand and practically dragging you out of the store.

“Heading out for a moment Madame!” you shouted. The fashionista didn’t say a thing but waved you on.

Link led you through the town all afternoon, stopping at random shops and cafés, showing you the castle and the odd Lucky Lobby Ball. He even introduced you to his doppels, which was more than a little surreal. Everywhere you went you made notes in your personal notebook. Yet despite all of the inspiration, your mind was just dead for ideas.

You ended the day sitting at the edge of the fountain with Link, sighing. “You know, you can just rest, right?”

“What?”

“Rest,” Link said. “Like, sometimes you need a break. You can’t be ‘on’ all the time. Doesn’t matter if it’s making clothes or fighting monsters or whatever.”

You thought for a moment. “Yeah… maybe I should try resting…” You started to lean back.

…And completely forgot you were at the fountain, flipping back into the water. Link looked down, trying and failing not to laugh. “Are you okay?”

“Peachy.”

You sat back up. Thankfully your notebook was okay, but you had thrown it as you slipped. Link picked it up and handed it to you. “What’s that? Looks like a hat?”

You looked down let out a half-laugh. “Yes… like, I hope you don’t think I’m crazy, but despite what Lady Maud did, and sure she’s evil but not like… Ganon evil, you know?” Link gave a nod that seemed to say he knew a little too well. “So, I do find her clothes interesting. I always wanted to design a hat that makes hers look as drab as the curse she put on Princess Styla.”

Link looked at the design. “I’m sure you’ll be able to pull it off.”

“Thanks… and thanks for the break. I think I’m ready to try out finishing the design. It’s a design for you after all.”

“Really? Think I can try it on early?”

“Not just yet…”

==============================

The ride to Dueling Peaks was uneventful. After helping the troupe once more and coaxing another Great Fairy out of hiding, the two of you met with Penn. “Thank goodness I found you guys! The Yiga Clan kidnapped Princess Zelda!”

Link frowned. “Penn, are you sure? I mean, this could be just another fake.”

“But the Yiga Clan are back! And they sent a message saying they were keeping her at the ‘carved-out heart of the towering twins!’ I figured they meant Dueling Peaks, but I’m not sure where they’re hiding.”

You looked up at the mountains, seeing a small bit of the shallow canyon near the middle of the south peak, then turned to Link. Your knight simply shook his head. “Don’t worry about it, Penn, we’ll look into it.”

Link led the way on the climb up, testing all the footholds for the best path for you. You followed, passing him pieces of honey candy to keep both of your energy up. Soon, you dismounted at the edge of the canyon.

To your surprise, the supposed Zelda was there, trapped in an unstable-looking iron cage. Despite what you saw in the vision back on the Stormwind Ark, this potential Zelda was at least much closer to your Zelda – by appearance at least. “Oh Link, please save me! Thou must get me out of this cage!”

“Thou? That’s definitely not my sister. Oh, wait a second,” you whispered. You pulled out a Mighty Banana and dropped it on the ground. This Zelda’s eyes snapped to it like a magnet before you picked it up and put it away. “Well, that answers that,” you groaned.

The fake Zelda gave you both her best puppy-dog eyes, which was completely ineffective. “Please lift this cage and we can be together again, my love!”

“I am actually offended,” Link whispered back. “Like, sure, we’re not super big on the lovey-dovey stuff in public, but five years. C’mon.”

“I mean they literally have been underground for five years,” you shrugged. “Wanna mess with them?”

“Oh yes.” Link’s eyes gleamed with mischief. He turned to the fake Zelda, clutching his chest. “My Princess, I am so glad to see you’re safe, but I can’t believe those terrible Yiga have trapped you in this cage.”

“Terrible?!” Not-Zelda scoffed before composing herself. “I mean, yes! Yes, and you should free me!”

“No, I can’t let you – for this is my chance!” You said. Both Link and Not-Zelda gasped. “Mwha-ha-ha! I can finally take over the kingdom and depose of Zelda!”

“Y-you what?!” Not-Zelda stuttered. “But, I’m your sister? You want to get rid of me?”

You laughed maniacally. “First, I will take over Hyrule, then the world! Ganondorf himself would even tremble before me! Then, once I’ve taken your kingdom, I’ll take…” you paused impressively. “Your man!”

“No!”

“Yes! And I’ll… I’ll dress him in the most beautiful clothes as my personal muse and servant!” Link shot you a look, but you could tell he was trying not to laugh. You slammed your arms on either side of him, trapping him against the cage. “You dare laugh at me, knight? Maybe I should show you your place.”

“L-Link no!” Not-Zelda said, voice quivering. “Be strong!” Her words were weakened however by the flush on her face and her slowly growing nosebleed. She watched with rapt attention. “Don’t let that evil prince have his way with you!”

Link looked into your eyes, a smolder in his own. “Oh really, Prince [Y/n]? You want me to submit to you? Make me.”

“I… uh… this is a bit public…”

“Oh, come on, where’s your nerve?” Link teased. “Or maybe you’d like me to put you in your place instead?” You felt something poke into your stomach. Your eyes drifted down for just a moment to see Link passing you a bomb arrow. His eyes flicked to the cliffside behind you.

“Oh, I’ll show you nerve…” you growled. You whipped out your bow and fired the arrow behind you, taking out the hidden Yiga soldiers.

“Have I mentioned how much I love watching you fight?” Link sighed. “As for you,” he said turning to Not-Zelda and leveled his bow at her head, arrow tipped with an Ice Fruit. “Tell us what the Yiga Clan is up to.”

Not-Zelda flushed, trying to compose herself. “Not fair, you fight dirty!”

You leaned against the cage with a smirk. “It was just us having fun. Now, come on, you want to tell us, right? Believe me, you don’t want to see my boyfriend mad now, do you?”

“Wait, you guys really are together?”

“For masters of stealth and espionage, you really aren’t that great at your jobs. And we thought Kohga was bad at his job.”

She stamped her foot. “Don’t speak about Master Kohga that way. At this very moment, he’s working on his master plan to help the Demon King!” She clasped her hands over her mouth.

“You’re new at this aren’t you,” Link said, never letting his arrow drift from his mark.

“Only my third week,” she said meekly.

“So Kohga did survive…” You sighed. “Okay, listen. Tell us where he is, and we’ll let you out of the cage.”

“And if I don’t?”

“I think a Lynel lives over the next ridge. Maybe he’ll let you out.” You shrugged and turned, pretending to leave.

“No, no, wait!”

==============================

“This detour is going all over the place,” Link muttered as the two of you landed in the Depths below the Great Plateau.

“If it means stopping Kohga and the Yiga, it’s not necessarily a bad detour,” you said. “The last thing we need is a surprise attack from the Demon King courtesy of the Yiga… though knowing them, it might just blow up in his face. I just hope the Zora can hold out a little longer.”

“With Sidon looking after them, I’m sure they’ll be fine.”

“I hope so,” you said, thinking about how bleak the situation seemed for the Rito. “I wonder where they – whoa.”

“You can say that again.”

Sprawling before you was a massive Zonai facility that made the one you woke up in look like a joke. Minecart tracks spread out like a spiderweb, dipping even deeper into the earth. They all led to the towering smelter and a temple-like building. Even with the little bits of light from the Zonai lamps and your Brightblooms, it dominated the Depths. Massive statues seemed to lead the way towards the entrance, surrounded by clusters of Poes. You snapped a quick picture with your Purah Pad for Zelda and Josha.

It didn’t take long to reach the entrance, and you were slightly surprised to see you weren’t alone. Two Zonai researchers were inspecting what appeared to be a round chest with the Zonai activation sigil. Link tensed next to you, instinctively walking faster to put himself between you and them. You both knew this wasn’t going to end without a fight.

“Oh, did you two pass the interview too?” One of them asked, before muttering something like “Of course they did, why would they be here?” under her breath.

Link nodded, trying to keep things light and friendly – though you knew he would be able to strike both of them before they could move. “So, what’s this?”

“Some ancient statue,” she continued. “It should be able to grant us an ‘ancient power’. From my research, it’s supposed to let you rebuild anything you have committed to memory. Just think of the possibilities! The Yi- I mean, our investigation of this land would be unstoppable! If only we could wake it up.”

“Oh, that part’s easy,” Link said. Before anyone could ask, Link tapped the activation sigil. You and the two “researchers” jumped back as the odd chest turned out to be a construct. Link, however, was unfazed. “Hello!” He waved.

“Greetings,” the Construct replied. “Conferring Autobuild to user now. Please utilize it as you explore and excavate the Depths for zonaite.” A swirl of green energy gathered around Link’s arm, concentrating into a glowing orb, which sunk into his palm.

“Did… did that thing just give you the ancient power?” The other researcher gasped.

“Can you give us a demonstration?”

Link looked to you, and you shrugged. “Might as well test it out?” you said. After all, it wasn’t like the Yiga footsoldiers were any threat to either of you.

“Why not try it on our vehicles,” one of the researchers said, motioning to the two broken platforms nearby. “If you fix the wheel on the first, you should be able to use your power to repair the second in no time flat!”

Repairing the first vehicle didn’t take long, Link had gotten pretty good at the Ultrahand. As for the second, Link simply snapped his fingers, and you watched in awe as the vehicle reassembled itself. “Fascinating,” you murmured. “I wonder if we could use that to mass repair some of the wagons for the stables…” The possibilities were endless!

“Maybe, but we’ve got bigger things to worry about first.”

You looked up seeing the researchers drop their disguises. “Ah, right.”

Behind you, the footsoldiers reappeared in their Yiga gear, but they were joined by their eccentric master. “Great work, both of you!” he congratulated his soldiers. “You strangers too! Credit where credit is due. Yes, yes…” He froze, then stamped his foot. You could feel his glare behind his mask. “If there’s any foe I’d never forget, it’s the one who cast me out of my beloved hideout into these very Depths. It was YOU!” He shook his fists, trembling with anger. “Now I live for vengeance, upon that no-good Zelda, the blasted swordsman Link, and upon my sworn enemy! That means you, [Y/n]!”

“Me?!”

“We are bound by fate, you and I! You, who embarrassed me by sneaking up behind me! The master of ninja!” He pointed at you. “Hear my name and know fear! The leader of the Yiga Clan! The Strong! The Depths-defying! From the ashes, rising! MASTER KOHGA!”

The two footsoldiers clapped while you and Link simply watched. “We… we know who you are. I mean, we knew you were down here,” you said.

“Wait, what?!” Kohga shouted, stamping his foot again. “How did you know?!”

“Your disguises are really good and all, but when you use the same plan every time, it gets to be… predictable?” Link said.

“Yeah, change it up every now and then,” you added. “Try something new, spice it up!”

“Spice it up, eh?” Kohga said. “Well then how’s this for spice?!” In a puff of smoke, a massive vehicle fitted with spikes materialized before you. Kohga stepped on the control pad, lights flashing on and nearly blinding you. “You’ll forever remember the day you crossed Master Kohga! I will have my revenge and steal that ancient power to give to the Magnificent One!”

“Me and my big mouth,” you muttered.

“Move!” Link shouted, and the two of you split off running in opposite directions around the small arena.

“Oh, I’m ready for you this time, you sneaky… sneak!” You dove out of the way of Kohga’s strange vehicle. The ninja master cackled as he spun it around for another pass, rearing it up on two wheels as it turned. “What’s wrong, Prince? Can’t sneak up on me this time?!”

“Maybe not – oof!” You dove again. “But you keep forgetting there’s two of us!”

“Wait, what?” Link leaped onto the vehicle, slashing Kohga’s back. The vehicle disappeared in a puff of smoke. Kohga fell flat on his backside. An evil plan hatched in your mind as you grabbed the sword Link fused for you – the one with the devilishly spiked Flux Construct core. “No, no, no, wait!” It didn’t matter, you had already wound up your spin attack, smacking him with each round before slamming the makeshift torture instrument down on the ninja master.

Kohga popped away, stamping his foot again. “STOP IT! You may have won today, but we’ll return and follow you to the ends of Hyrule! I’ve already found a whole bunch of ruins down here.” He snickered. “I’ve already seen Link use his right hand to activate that construct. I’ll grab the power you cheated me out of for myself at the Southwestern Mine! Then our magnificent Demon King and I will guide this world to its miserable end, and there’s nothing you can do to stop me!”

In a puff of smoke, a large flying contraption appeared. Kohga hopped aboard, taking flight. “So don’t follow me! Mwhahaha-hehe-ho – YIKES!” He veered sharply to the left out of the way of the rock wall and sped off into the darkness.

“Maybe if we leave him alone, things will just work themselves out,” Link muttered.

You sighed. “Since when have we been that lucky?”

“You’re right,” Link groaned. “At least there’s no way he’s going to be able to activate any of the other constructs. I really don’t want to follow him all the way to Gerudo Desert underground.”

“I think we’ll be safe to let him think he’s won for a bit. Let’s head up and check on Sidon,” you said, pulling out the Purah Pad to find the best place to warp to.

Just then a Construct approached. “Pardon me, but we have found an anomaly in this batch. This is not Zonaite, but not an otherwise useful material or waste either.”

“So… what is it?” Link asked.

“Protocol dictates that all anomalies be presented to management.” The Construct looked down at Rauru’s arm. It then reached inside its chest cavity and produced a small bronze rock.

“May I?” you asked, and the Construct nodded, handing you the stone. “Yeah… same bronze color as the one I found when we beat Colgera. You said it’s not a waste rock or precious metal?”

“Correct,” the Construct said. “It does have an unusual radiation pattern but does not appear dangerous to flesh-based life.”

You had to admit, there did seem to be a little tingle as you held it in your hand. Whatever it was, it didn’t seem dangerous, more warm and comforting. “Do you mind if we keep this?”

“It is up to management,” the Construct simply said, looking to Link.

“Uh, yeah?”

“Then yes, you may.” The Construct floated off, seemingly pleased.

You turned the rock over in your hand before slipping it into your pack. You then realized your boyfriend had become oddly quiet. “Link, are you okay?”

Link was staring at Rauru’s arm deep in thought. “Do you think I could combine the Zonai devices to create something crazy?”

“I mean you could, but you wouldn’t make a massive war machine like Kohga, right?”

The evil gleam in your boyfriend’s eyes was more than a little unsettling. Using the Flux Core on Kohga almost seemed like a mercy. You just took his hand and tapped the waypoint on the Purah Pad, teleporting the two of you back to the surface.