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sunstone-smiles · 1 month

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Battle Strategies and Funny Faces

Author’s note: Finally, a Hubert centered fic is here! I can’t believe I haven’t done something like this sooner with him, but motivation struck hard after going on expeditions with him and hearing his dialogue during my Scarlet Blaze playthrough. Tagging @giggly-squiggily because I promised I would when it was done and @gladdygirl18 because I know you’ve been waiting for it! I hope you all enjoy it!

Series: Fire Emblem: Three Hopes

Characters: Shez and Hubert

Word count: 2,174

Summary: Shez and Hubert start off competing to see who can think up the best tactics, but a few playfully provoking words from Hubert begins a new challenge for Shez: get Hubert to make a funny face with the best way she knows how. Enjoy!

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Over the course of their time together as allies, Shez has learned that Hubert, the usually intimidating and reserved retainer to the emperor, has a soft spot for a little friendly competition. On their current expedition at the waterfront, Hubert asked Shez if they were ever “suddenly struck with a brilliant strategy on expeditions such as this?” Shez, knowing Hubert and his likes, proposed a competition to the man as a response. Hubert agreed with a chuckle.

Now the two are having a wildly engaging conversation about the best tactics and strategies that could be utilized in their hypothetical head-to-head battle occurring on the waterfront. They sit together on a blanket they laid out near the grassy edge of the water, where purple flowers freckle the green earth around them. In the surrounding area, a bridge arcs across the water and connects two pieces of land on both ends; it’s become the current talking point of their discussion.

“What?” Shez laughs out loud. “How would that work? If you send units charging across the bridge, they can easily be cut off and flanked on both sides. It sounds like you have a losing strategy there, Hubert.”

“We’ll have an army of flying units act as cover for them,” Hubert responds. “They can coast across the water towards the enemy’s side while acting as a shield and a diversion.”

“Okay,” Shez leans forward with a teasing demeanor, “but what if they have a team of archers across the water, ready to take down your flying units?”

“In that case we would have a second team move around the back and flank the archers from behind.”

“Ah, but what if there’s an ambush from the nearby forest that suddenly attacks from the side?”

Hubert quickly counters, “To account for that, we’ll place the flyers in a ‘L’ shaped formation, creating a wall on the side to offer protection from the ambush while the infantry units clear the bridge safely.”

“But what if there are enemy units hidden beneath the water who pop out and attack your forces from below!” Shez pretends to spring upwards to emphasize her surprise.

“What?” Hubert chuckles from being taken so off guard. “Shez, how would you propose that to work?”

The mercenary giggles, “Sorry, I couldn’t help myself.” She lifts her tea cup from the tray between them and takes a sip. Hubert picks up his cup as well, but waits to drink from it.

“Only you would disrupt our strategic conversation with your wild fantasies,” Hubert jests before taking a sip from own cup, tasting the delightful bitterness of coffee that he prefers rather than tea.

“Oh, come on. It was funny. You had back up plans for everything, so I had to throw you off somehow.” She places her glass back on the tray. “I heard you laugh at it too, you know. Don’t tell me you didn’t. Admit it.” She aims a smug gaze at him.

There’s a long pause. Hubert takes another sip of his coffee. His focus is faced away from Shez, so it’s only until he catches the mercenary staring in his peripheral vision that he realizes she is awaiting a response.

He turns to her. “Are you waiting for me to make a funny face? You will be waiting a long time if so.”

“Oh?” Shez smiles, “Is that another challenge?”

“Only if you choose to make it one,” Hubert says in a way that playfully provokes.

“Oh, I choose to make it a challenge alright. I’ll admit that talking strategy might be your specialty Hubert, but making my friends smile is my Shez speciality,” the mercenary points to herself.

“The Shez speciality?” Hubert’s voice piques with interest. He places his coffee cup on the tray. “Well, now I’m intrigued.”

“Since I have your attention then, allow me to prepare first,” Shez smiles and stretches her arms forward. She moves the tray from between them to a far edge of the blanket behind her. Hubert gives her a curious look.

Then, as if observing a map, Shez examines Hubert, leaning left, right, and forward for different angles of the man sitting in front of her. She hums a few “Hmm”s as she does so.

Shez leans back on her knees. “Alright, done. I just need to ask you one more question, Hubert,” Shez’s voice heightens with mischief. A smirk crosses her features. “You’re ticklish, right?”

Shez watches as Hubert’s eyes widen, even the eye peeking beneath his hair; that’s all the confirmation she needs. Before he can respond, the mercenary leaps forward and tackles him down to the blanket.

“Shez!” is all he exclaims before Shez finds a place to wiggle her fingers at his sides. A slight jump and a sharp intake of air is followed by him latching on to her wrist. He briefly stalls before his next words, “Get off of me!”

“Hey, you're the one that challenged me, remember? I can’t just back down from a challenge,” Shez grins above him as her free hand presses into his other side. He swings an arm around his torso to defend himself from the additional ambush.

“Shez! This is ludacris! I’m not even ticklish!” Suddenly, Hubert jolts with a giggle-like shout when Shez crawls her hand towards his ribs. Hubert immediately slaps a hand across his mouth to cease any trace of the sound that had passed by his lips.

“Really?” Shez jokingly tilts her head. “Because I’m pretty sure someone who’s not ticklish wouldn’t make a sound like that.”

Hubert, almost holding his breath at this point, uncovers his mouth and attempts to shove at Shez’s hand clawing at his ribs. “That was just a coincidence!” the retainer staggers a growl. An occasional twitch at the corner of his mouth nearly threatens to crack into a large smile.

“Riiight. Because it’s a coincidence that you're laughing while I’m tickling you. If you’re gonna lie Hubert, at least make it believable.”

Shez moves a hand to his stomach, causing him to sputter out a yelp and curl up his middle. Hubert closes his lips together and frantically tries to push Shez away, but he falls back to the blanket and throws a hand across his mouth again to stave off the joyous sound that’s probably bubbling in his throat. This time, however, airy snickers start to leak from the cracks between his fingers, being unable to muffle all the hints of his growing giggles. He turns his head into his shoulder to hide any other signs of the smile beaming beneath his hand.

“Ah, now we’re getting somewhere,” Shez grins again. “But I still haven’t found that funny face I’ve been waiting for. Let’s just get this hand out of the way here…” Shez playfully grabs Hubert’s wrist and easily pulls it away to uncover his wobbly smile. Immediately after, she uses the opening to dig into his underarm. He shoots his arm down with another yelp, then Shez quickly catches him off guard with a scribble to his belly; the two attacks in swift succession finally burst the barricade that’s been holding back his rushing waves of giggles.

“Shehehehez!” Hubert laughs and wraps his arms across his torso. His smile, now out in the open, has nowhere to hide as Shez unleashes playful havoc across his ticklish spots.

“There we go! Now that’s a challenge winning funny face if I've ever seen one. It’s so funny, you’re even laughing at it!”

“Yehehes! Yes! Yohohohu’ve won! Are yohohohu happy nohohow?!” Hubert takes hold of Shez’s wrists in an attempt to push her hands from him.

“Yes, very,” Shez casually responds back to him. “Although, I’ll be even happier once I get to hear more of your laughter. You’ve been holding out on me!” She scribbles her fingers with a bit more pressure, increasing the amount of giggles that spill from Hubert. Shez takes a moment to soak in his smile. She’s never really had the chance to hear his laugh without there being a maniacal tone behind it. This laugh feels lighter, more bright and carefree. It’s a nice change to hear for once.

“Thahat was nohohot part of the chahahallenge!” Hubert curls up his middle and kicks his legs out behind her.

“Then consider it me enjoying the spoils of my victory,” Shez answers with a large grin.

The retainer tries to glare at her. “Why you deceiving—Pfft hahaha!” Hubert throws his head back and wheezes when Shez kneads right above his hips, his sentence straying due to his own explosion of laughter.

“What was that, Hubert? If you were about to threaten me, you’re doing a poor job of doing so,” Shez jokes. She climbs a free hand towards his ribs again like it was scaling a mountain, causing Hubert to tighten himself in his already curled up ball of giggles that accidentally pins Shez’s wiggling fingers to his ribs. He further attempts to conceal his silly face into his shoulder as he tries to twist away from her tickles.

Unable to create a comprehensive response through his outpour of laughter, Hubert rolls onto his side towards her and kicks his legs at Shez with enough force to try and thrust her away, but purposely not hard enough that would put her at risk of hurting her.

“Hey!” Shez chuckles as he bumps her once or twice below the shoulder. “Fighting back, huh? We’ll see about that!” Shez grabs his leg farthest from her and wrestles it until she has a tight one-handed grip on it. She pulls his squirming leg towards her and flutters her free fingers into the back of his knee.

With a surprised shout, Hubert springs into a sitting position before bubbly giggles continue to spill from the man. He makes a futile attempt to pry Shez’s grip from his leg before his back crumbles down to the blanket, arms wrapped around his chest, bouncing with laughter. His other leg kicks at her, only leading to her grabbing that leg and giving it the same treatment.

“Shehehehez!” He digs the unrestrained heel of his boot into the ground and tries to tug himself away with assistance from the leverage of his arms. “Relehehehease my leg from yohohohur trap at ohohohonce!”

“A trap! Now that’s an interesting strategy!” Shez is reminded of their previous conversation about battle scenarios. “Let the enemy fall into a trap and then…strike!”

Shez releases his leg and leaps at Hubert’s sides. The man jumps from the tickly shock to his torso and folds himself nearly in half. He drops his head back to the blanket and finally dissolves into a wheezy cackle, melting from the joyful glow emanating from his person. The energy just from witnessing his expression enhances the already memorable surroundings of the waterfront.

“Shehehez!” Hubert calls out to her through his abundance of giggles, “Ahahalright! Yohohou’ve had yohohour fun! Thahahat’s enohohough!”

“Aww, already? But, alright, I guess I’ve celebrated my victory long enough,” Shez teases one last time before gently pulling her hands away. Hubert lets out a few more leftover giggles before slowly beginning to recover his strength as he lies flat on his back. His arms loosen from around him and rest on his chest as it rises and falls with air.

“That was mortifying,” Hubert says between breaths.

Shez lets out a sheepish chuckle, “Sorry, Hubert.” She reaches for his hand and helps pull him upright to a sitting position. “I hope it wasn’t that bad. I saw the opportunity and I just had to take it.”

Hubert waves a hand in front of him like a shrug. “I suppose it wasn’t the worst thing that could have happened. Perhaps it’s what I deserve for dropping my guard after provoking your attack.”

Shez snaps her fingers and her expression perks up. “Hey, that’s a good strategy!”

“Hmm? What is?”

“Provoking the enemy to attack,” she explains. “If we go back to our bridge scenario, the troops going across the bridge would essentially provoke the enemy into cutting them off. But, what we thought would be a disadvantage could actually be used to catch the enemy off guard.”

“Huh, of course,” Hubert thinks on her claim. “Then while the enemies are stationed at the bridge, we could maneuver our troops behind them on both sides to create a pincer attack, trapping them instead.” Hubert lifts his head towards the mercenary, “Very smart, Shez.”

“Thank you,” Shez graciously takes the compliment. “We should have more expeditions to talk strategy like this more often.”

“Perhaps one that’s not exactly like this expedition. I could do without the Shez speciality every time. But I will admit, our time together is actually tolerable,” Hubert ends his sentence with a rare smile.

Shez’s features lighten on her face. It can sometimes be difficult to build trust with one as cautious as Hubert, but every little bit to earning more of his trust is progress in the right direction. She returns a warm smile to him, “I’ll take that as a win.”

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princesssmars · 1 year

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love's philosophy

a catherine the great x reader

during a political trip to russia, you meet the rather peculiar emperor and his no less than extraordinary new bride.

wc: 5.779

contains: fluff bc catherine is a cutie who can do no wrong. me hating on peter. peter cheats (boo). catherine almost cheats (yay). i binged the show months ago so some things might not be accurate im sorry yall.

the only thing you could see outside of the carriage window were woods. cold, thin, and mostly dead.

what you guess would be the typical landscape for an russian spring.

but, occasionally, youd catch the patches of green of the rising grass, the small buds of blooming tree blossoms, and the rare small animal making its way from its winter slumber.

you hoped these signs of new and returning life were signs of what was to happen on this trip.

you and two of your most entrusted advisors had been sent to negotiate some new trade deals with peter, the emperor of russia. he had taken the throne after his fathers passing a few years ago, and youd heard many things about him through the grapevine.

(granted, none of the things you heard were very pleasant. in your opinion, he sounded like a bit of a man-child, unfit for the throne after his father's passing. but you kept these thoughts to you. this would help your country prosper, and create a hopefully helpful alliance.)

"i just want to remind you, princess, that things work very differently here in russia," your best friend and first advisor, anna, whispers from beside you, her big fur coat and scarf nearly obstructing your view of her face. her worried eyes peeked out from the gaps and you'd had to try not to laugh when you saw it. "its nothing like genovia here. the people are crass, rude, vulgar-"

"sounds like this will be a fun trip then." you jest, cutting off your dear friends ramblings and smiling when she glares at you. she always was a bit of a worrywart. but it was endearing.

"normally id critique our dear annas worrying, but this time she is right." a deep voice pipes up from in front of you both. the person in question is your other friend and advisor, thomas. he was the more critical and pessimistic of the two, but he was a softie at heart. "things work differently here, so we should tread wuth caution. i should give you some warnings before we enter the palace."

"alright, what do i need to know?" you sigh, relaxing into your seat. this could take a while.

"as you most likely already know, the new czar peter has taken over after the death of his father, also named peter. stop smiling, yn. the boy is much different than his father, known for his rather...extravagant ways. just try not to piss him off. he should be a bit more mello after marrying his new bride."

your head perks up. "bride? i didn't hear anything about a bride. why haven't i heard that hes been married? shouldn't you have told me this?"

thomas' eyes widen as he tries to argue against it before realizing that yes, he somehow forgot to tell you. he tries to ignore anna's teasing face.

"my apologies for forgetting, princess. yes, he has recently married a girl from france. her name is catherine. from what i've heard shes a rather timid girl, at least to russian standards. there should be no trouble on the front."

his knowing stare on you makes you pout. so yes, you might have slightly flirted with the wife of the ruler of italy. and you might have ended up in the same bed with her. whoops. but to be fair, she told you how dreadfully boring her husband was and how she was looking for something exciting and new in her life, looking at you with those big, wanting eyes...

"yn! stop daydreaming!" annas elbow nudges you, pulling you from your memory. your face feels hot when both of your friends laugh at you.

"oh please, you both know me. ill be on my best behavior. princess's promise."

so you might have fumbled with the promise. just a little.

after a long...loooong ride, you all had finally arrived at the russian winter palace, the grand estate nearly taking your breath away. or maybe that was the biting cold. your admiration was cut short by a gruff voice welcoming you. it came from a tall and stout man, his white wig contrasting against his flushed face and permanent frown.

"welcome to the palace, your royal highness. my name is velementov, peters war general. i've been tasked with escorting you inside safely. if you'll follow me."

he immediately starts towards the entrance, forgetting to check if you were following. as hes walking he nearly trips over some of the gravel on the ground. thomas whips his head over to you and anna when he hears a muffled giggle.

"sorry, that one was me." anna whispers, trying to compose herself.

you and your party follow the general in to the palace, walking through the grand halls and admiring the art within them. including the massive statue of peter the first.

"oh, this is just a great piece of work," anna awes, craning her neck up to observe the statue in greater detail. "how long did it take to complete?"

"i don't really remember. maybe two years." the general grunts, taking a pause before continuing on his way. the look on thomas' face makes you think hes regretting this decision.

eventually the peculiar general stops at two large doors, leading to what you presume is peters chambers.

"um, shouldn't we do this somewhere more formal? a meeting room or parlor, for example." thomas says, walking a bit faster while speaking to walk directly next to velementov.

"ideally yes, but first i must check if the prince is ready to meet you. he could still be hungover. or fucking. or both."

the three of you are a bit too stunned to react.

when velementov opens the doors, the muffled sounds of grunting, moaning, and a loud thumping on the walls rings through the hallway leading to peters bedroom. velemontov grunts, whispering something to one of the guards before escorting the three of you back into the wider hallways.

"peters busy. until he's ready you may be escorted by a guard around the toyr of the palace. they will lead you to the meeting room when we're ready. goodbye."

velementov briskly (as briskly as a clearly hungover man can go) walks away, not even checking to see if what he said was alright with you. three guards come up to you, their faces and postures remaining stoic.

"ohhhhhkay. alright, this is fine!" anna chirps, clearly trying to hold herself and the two of you together. "we are just. alone in a strangers castle in a strange country. this is ok. i wont freak out."

"good, because there is nothing to freak out about." thomas reassures her, sounding more like hes trying to convince himself. "we expected this, so lets make the most of it, hm? its a beautiful palace, and we can explore it while each looking for some of peters advisors."

"so try to find the people who hopefully have common sense?" you question, eyeing the way the guards eyebrows raise in shock at your not so subtle disrespect.

"exactly." thomas agrees, the three of you agreeing before heading off in seperate directions of the russian castle.

what you see along your short journey is nothing short of shocking yet amusing. multiple couples unsuccessfully hiding in the shadows while having intercourse, drunk soldiers and children running through the halls, with parents and hungover residents looking on in annoyance.

eventually you pass two large open doors which you can see lead to a library. walking in you see its quite expansive, with practically no one inside.

(to be expected, you didn't think most of the people here could read a paragraph let alone complete a book.)

you walk inside and observe, walking through the aisles and touching the spines of the novels. most of it seems to be in russian, of course, but maybe there was an international section...

while thinking, your mind spaces out and is only brought back when the body of another knocks into yours, the books they were carrying falling to the floor.

"oh my gosh, im so sorry. i wasn't looking where i was headed, here let me help you with those," rushes from your mouth, quickly dropping to the floor to help pick up the books for them; A Guide To Russian History and The Insides of Russian Aristocracy.

"no, no, don't apologize. I wasn't looking where i was headed because i was reading this book about...nevermind." the stranger says before joining you on the floor before also trying to pick up their books.

its only after the stranger speaks and you see their pale, slender hand on top of yours that you look up to meet eyes, your e/c meeting piercing blue.

its a woman, and not just any woman but a gorgeous one. she has fair skin, smooth and with nearly no blemishes at all, surprising since most of the other members of the court you've passed at least had a tint to their cheeks whether it be from sickness, alcohol, or both.

she has a striking face, both angular yet soft. it makes her beauty both intimidating yet welcoming. and at this moment you don't know which one you feel.

the both of you still for a moment, observing the other for longer than what was most likely deemed polite. you were speechless until you noticed one of the most striking things about her - her naturally blonde hair. youve seen a few other women here who were blonde but you could tell they were wearing wigs. with no shame of course, it was a regular among members of court life nowadays. but hers had that growth and effortlessness that let you know it was all hers.

"you aren't from here, are you? im guessing western europe, maybe france, germany?" you suddenly ask, finding yourself intrigued with this beautiful stranger you've met in an otherwise empty library. her face lights up at your question, making you glad she didn't find it rude.

"yes, born and raised in germany, how could you tell?" her questions makes you raise your brow, looking from her eyes to her hair. she catches on and laughs, looking down in slight embarrassment. "right, sorry. silly question."

"it wasn't silly, don't worry. i just asked because i was curious why you don't look like the rest of the court members. are you visiting from your home?" you quickly reassure her, not liking the slightly sad look that appeared on her face when she called herself silly. she looked much better with a smile.

her brows slightly scrunch together, looking to the floor before back to you with a sure smile. "yes, im visiting for a while. sent to study the russian culture and all, trying to help with politics."

"another thing we have in common, and thank god for it. i swear i was so nervous about me and my party being the only foreigners here." you exclaim, resting your hands on the mystery woman's shoulders in excitement. "would you mind chatting with me and telling me what you've learned? im sure there's some things i can tell you as well."

her eyes are wide and her face is bright as she stares into your eyes, nodding along to answer your questions. its just when you realize your hands are still on her shoulders and when she reaches hers up to gently grab your elbows, yet again dropping the books in her hands. you both look at the fallen materials for a second before looking back to each other and giggling.

you had spent who knows how many hours talking with the blonde woman, who you'd come to know was named sophie, about subjects ranging from politics to your home countries to even your favorite foods. you found her point of view on things interesting, her positivity coming off a bit naive but refreshing. but beneath it you sense a bit of sadness.

"are you feeling alright?" your questions cuts her off from what she was saying. she was enthusing about how she misses the landscapes form her home, how when she looks out the palace windows she can feel bits of herself start to wither away just like the outside landscape. she says it so calmly that you cant help but ask the question.

in response shes quiet, staring at you like you just asked her is she preferred to eat chicken eggs or duck eggs for breakfast.

"jesus, when's the last time someone asked you that question?" you put a hand on her shoulder, your tone playful in the hope she wouldn't answer. but the look on her face gave you your answer.

"if im being honest...it's been quite a while. if i tell you this, will you promise to keep it secret?" she asks, her voice unsteady with the hesitance of telling a stranger the problems of her current life.

"cross my heart and hope to die." you dramatically cross your hands over your bust, smiling when she manages a laugh at your theatrics.

she sighs, putting her hands in her lap and closing her eyes. "i have a husband, back home. arranged marriage." her eyes peak open to look at you, and you hurry to fix the look on your face from one of disappointment to understanding. "i was so hopeful before the wedding, but then i met and moved in with him and it's nothing how i imagined it would be. he's nothing like i hoped for. and i know i now have a duty to my country and people but i only have one other person to voice my sadness and just...anger to. but it doesn't feel like enough. i feel like i need to do more to fix my life or i'll go insane."

at the end of her rant she lets out a long sigh, relaxing her shoulders and slumping back into the wall behind you. she looks at you for your reaction to see you smiling at her. "what could possibly be amusing right now?"

"nothing, nothing. it's not everyday you meet a beautiful monarch on the edge of killing her husband. well, i take that back." she rolls her eyes and gently smacks your arm at your jest.

"i just poured out feelings i've only told my most trusted servant and you're going to joke around with me?"

"i've found that during the most dire times, nothing makes me feel better than saying 'fuck all' and laughing."

she sits in silence, staring at you as she seems to think over your words. it feels like the two of you are drifting closer together, her blue eyes flicking from your eyes to lower to lower-

"yn! yn are you nearby?" the loud voice of anna from outside the library causes both of you to flinch and look to the doors, waiting with held breaths as the sounds of annas heels pass by. the sound of her crying out your name grows quieter, but you both know you have to depart soon.

"i suppose that means i have to go now," you groan, standing up and smoothing out the fabric of your dress as you look sophie. shes just looking at you with those big blue eyes of hers until she collects herself as well, "its time for me to see the emperor, i suppose. will i see you around the palace any time soon?"

"yes, you'll be seeing me around. at least i hope so." her gentle admission makes you smile, and she clasps her hands together in slight nervousness. "i don't have many friends here. its nice to talk to someone who understands."

you smile at each other for a few seconds more until the sound of anna's voice rings out in the halls again. wanting to stop her before she causes a ruckus, you sidestep sophie and leave the library quickly, heading towards your duties and leaving her behind in the library.

“where have you been? i've been looking for you all over this god-forsaken palace!” annas harsh whisper spits at you, the shorter woman grabbing your arm and yanking you towards her as she continues walking down one of the wide halls of the palace.

"im sure they heard you over in india, my dear friend," you tease, letting out a squeak when she pinches your arm, "i was just in the library and having a very interesting conversation with a young woman when-"

"dont even finish that sentence. i dont want to to know what you get up to in the shadows with young women." anna groans and stops walking when you get to a quaint but grandiose set of doors. she pushes them open to reveal a grand bedroom, fit with a small area to converse with others over tea and snacks, a wide desk near the window with your bags containing your papers and documents set beside it, and the back of the room contains a large bed and intricate designs on the bedframe and sheets.

“nice of him to give us a grand room after his grand absence.” you deadpan, nodding thanks to anna and flopping down on the chaise near the fireplace. you kick your feet up and let out a long groan, closing your eyes and resting your arm over your eyes.

“dont talk like that, I heard he has spies inside of the walls,” anna jokes, closing the chamber doors and striding to sit in the armchair next to you. “besides, we’ve been formally invited to dine with the emperor, and his wife tonight, along with some of the other important members of his court. this could be your chance to judge his character, see what he's like to plan how you’ll go about your proposals with him for trading.”

you groan louder, smiling over at anna’s burst of laughter. “i have the feeling he'll be too consumed in drinking himself silly and doing whatever else these russians do."

"well then, lets at least get you dressed to the nines so he'll feel completely embarrassed that he turned down the chance to speak to you earlier." anna gets up and moves to your bags, propping them open and pulling out a gown that's not too gaudy but just lavish enough for a dinner with an emperor.

you smile, already imagining the look on the emperors' face when he realizes what an idiot he was for turning you down.

so, it turns out that peter was a bigger idiot than you thought.

upon entering the dining hall you come to see that the room is still mostly empty, save for a few maids preparing the table for dinner and what looks to be the chef getting into a heated debate with another servant.

walking over, the pair seem to stop speaking instantly when they notice you, bowing over as a sign of respect and not moving until you ask them a question.

“hello, i’m princess y/n. i was told i was to dine with the emperor and company, am i too early?”

“n-no your highness, i believe the emperor is a tad bit busy at the moment. he should be joining you soon.” the servant tells you, stuttering over some of his words as he fixes his position to look at you while speaking.

anna quickly takes her place in front of you, clearly able to tell by the shift in your stance that your mood has quickly soured upon hearing that peter has the gall to do this again. shes right in the middle of explaining when noises from the kitchen cause her and the room to go silent. you're on the verge of asking what it was when it comes about again.

moaning.

very damn loud moaning.

if you weren't so furious you'd be laughing your ass off, and by the way anna’s posture goes rigid you can tell she's holding herself back from doing the same. the chef and servant look so red you wouldn't be surprised if they were the tomatoes that were on the menu. you got the feeling that the embarrassment was from you having to bear witness, and that they'd likely been through this before.

“i think…we are going to find our seats now.” you let out a long exhale from your nose and smooth off your dress, putting on an amused and polite smile.

you roughly grab anna’s arm and pull her to the end of one of the tables, you sit yourself down in a chair in the middle of one of the side tables and she sits in the one to your left.

“look, your highness, we can walk through the gardens, w-we can go for another roundabout this damn gaudy castle, but can we please not stay here and listen to russian lovemaking session? and you've got that scheming look in your eye that you know i hate-”

“we’re staying here.” you cut her off, your tone letting her know your say is final. she fake pouts and sits correctly in her seat, staring at the wall ahead of her as you both try to ignore the familiar sounds of skin meeting and the rampant onslaught of moaning and groaning.

it feels like the longest few minutes of your life. as the seconds tick by a few more people slowly start to enter, all wearing posh clothing and powdered wigs that make it seem like they'd walked right out of a cheaper version of france. but you remain polite, smile, and do the basic introductions when they come up to you. you notice how they all ignore the unmistakable sounds of ecstasy from the kitchen as well.

you have to press your lips in a thin line when thomas rushes into the room and sits in the other chair next to you, hurriedly giving his greetings to the other court members and turning to you. he raises his brow in confusion at your teasing look, then follows your eyesight to the timid orlo who had entered the room and had sat near the head table. thomas’s face flushes when he turns back to you.

“stop it, nothing happened,” he whispers,” we discussed what's going to be addressed at your meeting with peter.”

your brow twitches.

“i think emperor peter has his hands full with other responsibilities.”

thomas’s mouth opens to ask you to elaborate when an “oh god, yes!” booms from the kitchen. anna snorts as his face shows mass embarrassment.

“he did tell us russians were very different, y/n.” anna jokes, butting her head from your side to look directly at thomas. “they’re crass, rude, and what was it, T? oh yes, vulgar.”

you’re on the brink of closing your eyes and banging your head on the table when the site of a familiar mop of bright blonde hair grabs your attention and nearly makes you sit straight up from your seat. you don't even hear the sound of your friends asking what the matter is, all you can hear is the sound of your heart beating erratically. it’d scare you half to death if you weren't so excited.

she makes eye contact with you and you smile, nodding politely. she nods back, looking on edge as she moves farther into the room.

“that's the woman i was talking to earlier,” you say, turning your head towards anna. she nods and smiles, and you decide not to acknowledge how it's the you've got another crush don't you bitch smile.

“she’s pretty.” anna whispers.

“she’s sophie.” you tell her.

“she’s princess catherine.” thomas butts in.

what.

you don't get the chance to question him when a man burst through the doors of the hall, his clothes in disarray and his hair even more so.

peter.

his beady blue eyes connect with yours, the man smiling as he would at an old friend and clapping his hands before raising them above his head.

“ah! your highness! welcome to the palace, i hope you've found your stay comfortable so far.” he greets you too little too late, getting distracted halfway through his sentence as a brunette woman in the same state of dishevelment, the pair smiling at each other as she passes to sit next to another man, his smile strained as she presses a kiss to his cheek.

“it’s certainly been memorable so far, your majesty,” you answer, your eyes following him as he moves next to soph-catherine, whose eyes dart between you and her apparent husband. she sits down, seeming to decide there’s no point in making eye contact as she stares at the china on the table.

“well, i hope during your stay you find many more things to remember. boris! bring us our food!” peter shouts, clapping his hands together as he turns toward the kitchen. it's a struggle to keep a courteous smile on your face.

the dinner is odd, to say the least. throughout most of it, peter is boasting about himself and his accomplishments, which honestly don't sound like anything important to you and more like thing your child brother was worrying about the last time you saw him. but he wasn't completely an idiot. just mostly.

the other half of your amusement comes from your new blonde friend. over the course of the dinner she continues to avoid you like the plague, only joining in conversation with you when prompted by peter. you aren't a fool, you know most diplomatic marriages are purely that, but you can help but notice the way she looks at him when he speaks. it's not just fatigue or distaste, its something more. something sharper.

when you and the other nobles have finished eating peter insists on moving the festivities to a parlor room, giving you some semblance of hope for a normal evening. which was quickly thwarted by the dancers and loud music and even more alcohol. its not all bad though, you get to see anna convince thomas to drink some hard liquor, resulting in him spouting from a chair about the history of the wood it was made from.

while laughing you notice from the corner of your eye catherine whisper something to one of the guards near the door before rushing out. looking around you, you see how no one seems to take much notice to the empress’s quick disappearance, so you simply stand up and walk out the door as well.

you underestimate how quickly the empress can walk, only able to catch glimpses of her skirts as she darts around hallway corners. after a few minutes of trailing her you find yourself in the palace gardens, only getting a few seconds to admire the hedges. catherine starts to slow down to catch a breather and you can faintly hear her muttering something to herself before you come up behind her.

“going for a little late night stroll, your majesty?” you question, keeping a cool smile when she turns around and looks at you like a startled doe.

“y/n, i mean, your highness, i didn't take you for a person who admires gardens.”

“and i didn't take you for someone to lie so easily, but i guess today is the day for surprises.”

you both go silent at your rebuttal, only the sounds of crickets in the garden and the faint noise of the still partying emperor in the distance being heard.

“i apologize, your majesty,” you sigh, remembering that you're here to make peace with the Russian and getting catty with them isn't the best idea. “i didn't mean to be rude. I'm just upset that you lied to me about who you were when i made it very clear who i was.”

catherine sighs as well, wringing her hands together as she steps closer yo you. “im sorry as well. for lying to you and avoiding you. its just that…you’re different than the other people around here.”

“i hadn't noticed. was it my complexion or my soberness?” you joke, laughing along with the empress when she giggles.

“more than that, you listened to me.”

the simple sentence felt like a light punch to the gut. it reminds you of the countless times you would sneak away to the village from your palace, conversing with the people in the market so you could have a normal conversation without someone sucking up to you. how you’d even settle for someone telling you off for bumping into their shoulders was appreciated because it was so real. you had to admit you had even found some joy and amusement in peter’s complete disregard for your visitation.

“i understand. truly, i do.” you mimic her previous actions and step closer, the distance between the two of you only about a few feet at this point. you take the chance to take her in more. they fly away hairs that frame her face, the few freckles that dust across her nose, and the softness of her lips…

she starts speaking again, causing you to compose yourself. slightly.

“thank god. it was just that as soon as you started talking to me like a human being i couldn't get enough of it.” she blurts, her lips pursing at the implications of what she said.

“its alright, i felt the same. i still do. I'm up for another chat as we walk if you are.”

she smiles. “i think i’ll take you up on that offer.”

the two of you talk about everything and nothing as you walk, with you teasing her for her rather foolish husband and her laughing along and agreeing. she tells you how often she’s found herself sick of him these past few weeks and that darkness returns to her eyes.

“i mean I've truly met some incompetent leaders but your husband truly takes the cake,” you chuckle as you slightly kick away a pebble. “im surprised no ones tried to overthrow him at this point.”

you keep walking for a few more steps before you notice catherine has stopped behind you, frozen in place. her face is conflicted, her lips in a pout and creases forming between her brows. you gently call her name and are shocked at the sudden intensity behind her eyes. even more so when her head darts to look around in all directions before she rushes to you and pulls you behind a bush and holds you by your shoulders.

“if i tell you something, something that could change you life, do you promise to keep it between us?”

“yes of course,” you answer, and you'd be slightly embarrassed at the speed of your answer if your brain wasn't preoccupied with her closeness.

“if i told you that someone was planning to revolt against peter, what would you say? honestly?”

“that it seems rather overdue at this point.”

her eyes scan your face, looking for something before she lets out a breath. “im planning a coup. against peter.”

you don't reply. you simply look at her, waiting for the crack of a smile or an eye roll or anything she didn't mean what she just said. but it doesn't come.

“you’re quite serious?” you ask.

“deadly. me, my handmaiden, and one of his advisors have been talking about it. we should have one of the generals on our side shortly and i thought with your support as well-”

“my support? catherine as much as i don't think that man should be on the throne, you do realize if this fails i could be targeted and killed?”

“we won't fail,” she states and says it with such assurance you find yourself fully believing her.

“well, how am i supposed to help from all the way in my country? it doesn't seem like peter is much interested in an alliance so me giving you resources isn't exactly on the table.”

“leave that to me. he’s done some horrible things to me in the last few weeks so if i ask for this as a gift i’m sure he’ll accept.” she tells, her grip on your shoulders steady as she gives you a bright smile.

you grin. “you really are something extraordinary, empress catherine.”

“sophie. you can call me sophie.”

her words are no more than a whisper, and its silent yet again. your eyes quickly look from her eyes to her lips to back, and you catch her doing the same. her head starts to lean in, and you slowly start to do the same until her lips graze yours-

“your majesty? catherine where are you?”

its almost violent the way you pull apart from each other, your respective hands quickly smoothing out your clothes to make sure you look presentable. when you finish your eyes look at each other, and she still has that dark look in hers with an added dash of a hunger you know all too well.

“catherine? are you over here-there you are. I've been looking everywhere for you.” orlo comes from around the corner, looking exasperated as he rests his hands on his hips. when he notices you however he resumes an appropriate posture. “your highness, im terribly sorry that i didn't see you. catherine, i will talk to you later-”

“its alright, orlo. i told her and she’s agreed to join us.”

“you what?”

the emperor's discussion room is wide and bright, the sun shining in the windows and creating a warm feeling. it could be because your friends are on both sides of you, or because catherine is sitting beside peter with a barely concealed look of excitement on her face.

“princess y/n! i apologize for yesterday. i was very busy, as you could see.” peter clasps his hands together and smiles at you like you understand his excuses.

“all is well, your majesty. i know that certain pleasures can distract us from our responsibilities. i don't mind. is there a reason you called me here?”

his eyes squint. “why yes. there is. i would like to officially form an alliance with genovia immediately. my wife here was telling me about your encounters yesterday and how you seem like a more than perfect ally.”

you and catherine share a look.

“where do i sign?”

its a rather quick process to sign a piece of paper that changes history, and when its over things feel different. permanent. peter gives you a handshake before departing, just leaving catherine. she warily opens her arms for a hug, and you envelop her in your arms.

“welcome to the winning side of history,” she whispers in your ear, and you can help the excitement that rushes through you.

#the great #the great show #the great hulu #catherine the great x reader #catherine x reader #peter iii of russia #orlo #miriam #the great x reader

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minban · 3 months

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❛ may i have this dance? ❜ / Ezekiel perked up at this so I guess I'm obliged by law to send it... @ Lucas 🔪 during one of the royal balls they've both been invited to, courtesy of Athy

@yeonban / an assortment.

the first dance is in preparations once the emperor takes the crown princess' hand in his and leads her to the center of the room, the royal orchestra pausing and shifting to ready for the next song that they will play. nobles titter and laugh as they take their partners in hand, readying to start their own dance around the emperor and princess duo once the crown makes their first move, all eager to show off their ballroom outfits carefully groomed attire.

lucas stands against the wall far from the center of the ballroom, leaning on the wall as he sips his glass of champagne, keeping careful vigil of the crown princess to ensure that all goes well. he does not expect for ezekiel, heir of a dukedom, to seek him out in the grand royal hall and offer him a hand, spoken with a genuinity lucas finds is not often directed towards him. lucas searches the nobleman's face for a moment, looking for any inklings that ezekiel means for another jest, a ploy to amuse himself for the night. he supposes he is not surprised when he finds no traces of the sort in ezekiel's eyes, and he supposes as well, that there no reason to refuse the hand that stretched out to him.

"am i your second best option, now that the emperor has whisked the princess away from all of her suitors?" lucas asks with no heat as he takes ezekiel's hands, placing his empty champagne flute down on an unoccupied table as he is led to the center of the room. his hand is taken in ezekiel's, and he's only a little astounded when he is forced to take a step back as the music begins, ezekiel taking the lead before lucas can even think to rebuke, his cape blooming behind him with the suddenness of how ezekiel turns them, expertly guiding him along the floor in a show that he has done this many times before. this is not lucas' first dance in the obelion empire, though it is one of few, and he finds that the noble's lead is easy to follow, fast paced as their stride is.

eyes of the many cast their gaze upon the two as they weave through the nobles as expertly as the emperor and crown princess, capturing the attention of all noble's who attend the ball. lucas finds that he does not find the attention to his person as annoying as usual, attention focused on the dance that ezekiel leads him through, careful to not make any false steps, anticipating each movement that he is taken through. the song ends much faster this way with how much he did not pay mind to the time, and he leaves ezekiel's side with a bow, a comment spilling from the tips of his tongue, "a decent dance partner, if nothing else."

#yeonban #muse: lucas #ic: lucas #lucas wanted me to type “no” and hit post so badly #claude somewhere in the background both cheering and mourning that athy's two best suitors are getting together

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savage-rhi · 1 year

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Ardyn x reader? But with some dialogue prompts

"Close your Eyes for me Love"

And

"Listen to me . . .take deep breaths, yes follow my breathing just like that. There's no need to panic, I'm right here now, aren't I? You're safe"

You can honestly use these for any scenario you see fit. But these ones spoke to me as someone that is an anxious person.

@sillylittlevulpine OKAY. I got WAY too carried away with this prompt, but I hope you like the outcome!

Niflheim's celebration of it's imperial founding was well underway at the main palace. Though Aldercapt dedicated much of his life to Zegnatus Keep as his main base of operations, he dare not soil tradition when it came to the birthday of the empire. The grand hall was filled to the brim with people. Most hailing from the richer provinces within Niflheim, though on this day, commoners were allowed to mingle within reason.

The night was alive. Chandeliers glimmered and bounced off an array of light, illuminating everyone’s elegant clothes. Music from magnificent orchestras thrummed through bodies and pulsed against eardrums. Deep conversations came and went. The grand hall was filled with rich scents and smoke from candles that made Y/N feel like they were underwater; in another world where they shouldn’t have dwelled.

When Ardyn approached Y/N a week prior to the event, they didn’t anticipate feeling so miniscule. Y/N had participated in a fair share of parties, but nothing close to this. They were beginning to regret not taking Ardyn up on his offer of him buying a formal gown on their behalf. Though Y/N considered their attire for the night to be nice, it also stuck out like a sore thumb when it came to class standing. The higher imperials made it known in jest.

While Y/N swirled their wine around in their glass, they fixated on the fireworks that were going off outside the large glass windows leading to the balcony. The thundering booms did little to ease their nerves, but watching explosions was far better than dealing with people. Since Ardyn was summoned to entertain envoys from Accordo, Y/N lost count of the many that approached them.

Like a horde of locusts eyeing a fine grain, they swarmed; asking numerous questions. It wasn’t everyday the chancellor had someone at his arm when it came to these events. Ardyn was fairly private despite his sly and charismatic demeanor. Though Y/N had rehearsed with Ardyn, they found themself stumbling when it came to questions addressing the nature of their relationship. The quriked eyebrows and snide remarks at times further made Y/N’s nerves fire off.

Y/N so badly wanted to tell the truth; that Ardyn brought them along to blend in with the culture of the higher imperials. He had rumors at court to quell, and was dealing with people in opposing nations trying to sway public opinion negatively regarding his lack of familiars. It was as he said: having a mysterious aura does wonders when it comes to the art of persuasion, but it also has its hindrance. And people were catching on that Ardyn wasn’t just quirky, but there was another level. Something dangerous that could even put someone like the emperor in harms way. Little did anyone know, Ardyn was the empires best kept secret.

Y/N knew Ardyn was infected with the scourge, having caught him in a moment of weakness when the daemonic miasma flared throughout his body and he needed aid. Before then, he seldom if ever talked to Y/N. Although, Y/N noted he was courteous when need be. The dynamic changed after that night when Ardyn promised not to harm them if they kept their silence he was infected.

Conversations and meetups began to become a common occurrence between them both. Y/N was scared out of their mind at first; believing he would go back on his word and kill them, but Ardyn wormed his way in like always with whomever crossed his path.

Ardyn stated several times in passing to Y/N that he felt relief being able to be open with someone about his illness. For years, he only had the company of Verstael and Aldercapt when it came to such things. Even then, the relationships boiled down to how his mind and powers could be put to the empires benefit while they searched for a cure for his ailment. At least, that was what Ardyn had told Y/N when it came to his story.

Ardyn never said they were friends outright, but there was a strong camaraderie that grew between Y/N and him over the past several months. It was something Y/N tried to remind themself of in the present when another round of people came over and interrupted the firework display. Such sentimentalities couldn’t drown out their anxiety, and soon, Y/N took off pushing past people.

Blood pounded in Y/N’s ears. Their hands quivered, and their feet tingled as if maggots were crawling over each nerve that ran down their toes. Y/N had to get away from the crowd and all the decadence. There was no thought or reason that traveled through their mind, only a resonating panic that felt primal.

Eventually, Y/N’s retreat brought them to one of the common ways; smaller halls within the palace that led to a multitude of rooms. Scattered about were large statues of the gods, and previous Niflheim rulers. Y/N slouched against a pillar nearby, and took a long, slow deep breath, then rounded the corner out of sight as guests came and went.

Y/N wrapped their arms around their chest so tight, that their nails dug into their sides. Their breathing was hard. Really hard. As if they had ran across Niflheim and all the way to Tenebrae. Bile rose in Y/N’s throat as they attempted to stifle their sobs. Although their body was on fire in the worst way possible, a small token of relief washed over Y/N. At least they were free of the grand hall. The consolation however didn’t do much when it came to their guilt. They were here to give Ardyn a good impression, and this outburst was sure to undo a lot.

As if he heard their thoughts from afar, the sound of Ardyn’s boots hitting the marbled floors had Y/N swallow hard. The common way was dark, but they could see his features coming into the light thanks to the lamps nearby. There was a ferocious concern in his honey eyes that made Y/N tremble while he approached.

“There you are,” Ardyn paused, leaning forward to catch is breath momentarily before he fixed his posture. He tilted his head curiously, studying Y/N from head to toe. “I heard whispers you took off in a hurry. Are you hurt?”

“N-no,” Y/N shook their head. Their voice shook and another wave of fear began to crawl against the hairs of their flesh. “I--needed to get away.”

“Y/N?”

“I---too many people. Too many questions. I couldn’t do it anymore! And the rude comments, and the noise, the music, it’s all just---gods, I’m sorry. I’m sorry I made you look stupid. So stupid for bringing me here! I don’t belong here--with these people. I don’t belong here with you. I’m nothing like them, and I--”

“Shhh, hey, hey, hey…” Ardyn’s voice started firm then faded softly. His hands gripped either side of Y/N’s shoulders, and he gave a gentle squeeze. “Look at me.”

Y/N forced themself to tilt their head up and gaze at him. His hardened stare from before settled. A look of regret now combed over his features while Y/N continued to sob.

“If there’s any fault to be had, its at my expense,” Ardyn began. “I shouldn’t have left you alone for so long. Feeding you to the wolves wasn’t my intention.”

“I---I slipped up so many times,” Y/N choked. “C-couldn’t get my stories straight. Just one person after the other---and I’m already dirt. I don’t belong with you or them. T-they told me as much. And--”

“You’re right,” Ardyn murmured. “You are nothing like them, that’s precisely why I wanted you at my side tonight. I may seem well put together, but I get nervous at large festivities myself.”

“Y-you get nervous?”

Ardyn nodded and stepped closer so the rest of their conversation was out of earshot. “Do you know what I do to curb such ill feelings?”

Y/N shook their head, noting the childish grin that began to grow from Ardyn’s mouth.

“I envision everyone I meet, naked. It takes away their power.”

There was no way Y/N could stop the exhausted laugh that tumbled from their throat. Ardyn’s own bout followed suit. Alas it didn’t tamper down the adrenaline rush of panic that still remained in Y/N’s body. Their smile dwindled after the punchline lost its majesty, and they were crying.

Ardyn furrowed his brows and moved his hands from Y/N’s shoulders and to their face. Each palm cupping their cheek. “Close your eyes for me, love.”

“W-what?”

“Close them.”

Despite the uncertainty, Y/N’s eyes fluttered shut. The erratic pulse of their heart continued to throb behind their ears. Only the sigh that escaped from Ardyn momentarily pulled Y/N out of their inner turmoil.

"Listen to me…take deep breaths,” Ardyn muttered. He too joined in, inhaling slowly through his nose, and exhaling through his mouth. It wasn’t long before Y/N began to sync to his tempo, and relief began to pool in his mind, knowing a fire would soon be put out.

“Yes, follow my breathing just like that. There’s no need to panic. I’m right here now, aren’t I? You’re safe.”

“Y-yeah,” Y/N said in between breaths. Fragrant oils that were upon Ardyn’s clothes and skin found its way to Y/N’s nostrils. The familiarity along with the red wine on his breath aided in calming them down.

After some time, Y/N opened their eyes. It was so quiet, they half expected Ardyn to have been gone. He still remained in front of them. His hands still holding their face while his thumbs absentmindedly trailed underneath their eyes. Y/N had a morbid thought of Ardyn plucking out their eyeballs. He could easily perform such an insidious action given his infection, but alas nothing came of it. The intrusive thought ran away seeing the faint yet sincere smile that formed on his lips.

“I fear we must--” Before Ardyn could finish his sentence, he saw some of the Accordo envoys and a round of higher imperials making their way toward his and Y/N’s general vicinity. The face he made had Y/N look over his shoulder, hearing the commotion coming from the group.

“Gods be damned,” Ardyn whispered bitterly, letting go of Y/N’s face. “Not them.”

“I thought you got along with them?” Y/N sniffled, taking a moment to wipe their eyes.

“Yes and no,” Ardyn begrudgingly answered. “I have no patience let alone the disposition to listen to the words of drunkards tonight. Especially when it involves politics beyond my reach. No doubt once they see me, they’ll try dragging me in for another debate.”

A light went off in Y/N’s head. Though they were still healing from the panic attack, they pushed through the last of their nerves and quickly gestured at Ardyn’s hat.

“Get closer to me.” Y/N stepped forward and more into Ardyn’s personal space. Not giving him the chance to register the sudden intrusion. The look of bewilderment on his face would’ve made Y/N laugh any other time but now.

“I’m afraid I’m not following?”

“You don’t want to talk to them right?” Y/N began. “Well, take your hat and shield our faces with it. Lean in close. It’ll give them the impression we’re being intimate and don’t want to be bothered. Just trust me on this.”

Ardyn’s mouth parted to protest, but as soon as he heard his name being hollered, he quickly went through the motions that Y/N requested. Ardyn leaned forward and heard Y/N’s breath hitch in their throat. His eyes were glued onto theirs now, and he couldn’t help but smirk at both the awe and nervousness that dwelled in Y/N’s gaze. It reminded Ardyn of the night they had seen him as Adagium, and didn’t run. Intrigue and a twist of something more primal began to pull at his mind.

The shuffling of boots and shoes grew closer, and it wasn’t long before the group ventured by. Ardyn’s name was shouted a few times, until several aggressive hushes followed suit. Both Y/N and he could hear the whisperings, and Ardyn used his free arm to wrap around Y/N’s waist. Whatever doubts the drunken buffoons had at what they were witnessing fell away and soon colleagues beckoned their fellow peers to give space and privacy. A few wolf whistles here and there was given, and the flock retreated back to the festivities.

“See? They bought it! ” Y/N laughed with a grin. Whatever embarrassment they initially felt started to fade, but puzzlement began to take its place especially when it became obvious he had no intention of letting them go.

“Ardyn?”

He didn’t say a word. Not even his breath could easily be detected.

Ardyn stared at Y/N with an intense look in his eyes, where they could tell he was thinking hard. There was something irresistible about the vehemence his golden eyes held, and before Y/N could stop themself they leaned forward until their face brushed up against Ardyn’s. The stubble on his chin scratched them, and Y/N waited a moment, in case he wanted to pull away but he didn’t move.

Y/N’s emotions were so tangled from the night, that doubt began to creep in. Before it could take root and sprout, they closed the last bit of space between themself and Ardyn and pressed their lips against his. From the gentle push and pull of his mouth, Y/N could tell he’d been waiting for this and strangely so have they.

Ardyn’s hand at Y/N’s waist slid down further. His fingers dug into Y/N’s hip. He sensed the shiver that traveled down their spine and deepened the kiss. It’s not long before his tongue meets Y/N’s, and he wastes no time mapping out their mouth. Their taste was intoxicating to him, much like the wine he had nursed himself with during the worst flare ups of the scourge.

Ardyn was surprised with himself, that even after 2,000 years his body still remembered what this felt like. He was so indulged with the soothing texture of Y/N’s mouth against his lips that he didn’t register them pulling away initially, until the warmth had left him in yearning.

Y/N watched Ardyn lick his bottom lip while his hooded eyes studied them. They felt their knees wanting to give out at the image alone. Shaking, they reached for Ardyn’s hat that somehow continued to shield them both, and they took it from his grasp and placed it on top of his head. Y/N grinned briefly, averting their gaze downward. That’s when they felt Ardyn’s right hand gently grab at their chin, coaxing them to look up.

“You shouldn’t have done that.” Ardyn breathed.

“You’re right, but you didn’t stop either.”

“Touche’,” Ardyn huffed. “I have questions for you.”

“And I have a million to ask you.” Y/N countered with a shy murmur. They smiled at the amused laugh that left him.

“It seems we’re at an impasse,” Ardyn chuckled. His fingers gently stroked Y/N’s skin before letting them go. “Allow me to begin: do you want to leave this place?”

“Don’t you have people to meet and greet?”

“Yes,” Ardyn bluntly stated, then smiled as if he was up to something mischievous. “But you see, my distinguished guest I brought along suddenly fell to illness. Wine doesn’t mix well when you’re under the weather. I couldn’t fathom letting my plus one continue to carry on. For the sake of their health, I had to take them home or I wouldn’t live with myself.”

Gods, he was a masterful liar and he did it so well that Y/N couldn’t help but fall for the charm. The playful demeanor of Ardyn’s words while he conjured up his tall tale excuse had Y/N’s pulse stammer in their neck.

“What happens after we leave?”

“We can go anywhere you want,” Ardyn sincerely whispered. His features began to shift, looking morose almost. “The important thing is you and I need to talk.”

“About what happened just now?”

“Yes,” Ardyn paused. He contemplated his next words carefully. “And there’s some things I must share with you, about my condition, but not here.”

Y/N could only nod to his terms. No other questions or words would leave them. Not when their mind lingered on how saddened his voice was. Before anything else could potentially be said, Ardyn excused himself to go make the arrangements for their departure, and told Y/N to wait for him at the front gates.

As he walked away, Y/N couldn’t help but wonder why they felt a heaviness in their stomach; that whatever Ardyn had to share, it would change their dynamic once more. Y/N hoped they had the strength for it.

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#drabbles #ardyn izunia #ffxv ardyn #ardyn lucis caelum #ardyn x reader #gender neutral y/n #gender neutral reader #male reader #female reader #ffxv #final fantasy xv

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ocil91 · 10 months

Text

@guest-with-jest

Not sure if the @ worked. Apparently I can't just respond directly to submissions so this is the best I could think of. Thank you for asking! Also sorry this reply got so long.

Ossi was kind of a fluke. I had the concept of Ed fending off a would-be bounty hunter on his own in my head first and foremost. I wrote out a scene where Ed dealt with the unnamed bounty hunter and just went on about his day, but it never felt right to me.

So I decided to give the bounty hunter an actual design and a name. One thing I really love about the Boiling Isles as a setting is that there are basically no hard and fast rules on what you can and cannot do with regards to character design. There's so much variety to the witches and demons! So I wanted to do something a little weird with it.

Originally Ossi's skin was bone instead of stone (hence the name Ossi from the word Ossify) and I just needed to give them a reason to go after a bounty head. Then I wanted to poke around in the space of "A lot of people who are fearful of Wild Witchcraft haven't actually ever been exposed to Wild Witches outside of propaganda".

So Ossi became a vehicle for the idea that the average witch, upon learning that Wild Witches are just regular people, could easily become an advocate for them. Ed had a pretty profound impact on Ossi and the character kind of moved naturally forward from there.

So, in a way, Ossi was born from a necessity to push on some themes of the work. I like to think it makes them feel like an organic part of the story.

Scarlet, on the other hand, was an idea that was rattling around in my head for ages.

I'm far from the first person to imagine what life might be like on the Boiling Seas but I just wanted to make a fun character who has what it takes to thrive in those conditions and constantly does her best to push against the established systems.

I didn't want to design an entire pirate crew, but I also wanted to give enough detail to get across that they've got their own little found family. The Owl House crew aren't the only ones out there doing it, you know.

She's someone driven and reckless in equal measure.

I suppose my main goal with the character of Scarlet was to make it feel like our Wild Witches are a little less alone out there. Yes Emperor Belos is driving all those who practice it into a corner, but there are still plenty out there willing to fight tooth and nail. I kinda wish there had been more prominent Wild Witches in the show proper.

As an aside, Scarlet was originally conceived as a character that was much more openly antagonistic and dangerous. I'll have to talk about that more later though!

#outsiders

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adenial-a · 2 years

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Four out of five 'good' Roman Emperors were queer men with no biological children and successors chosen from their wards/adoptive kids, often as adults. Basically, according to historical statistics, Lovek would make the best choice for an heir to the Garlean empire among Varis' children and also we should simply stop letting cishets into the government.

the sound that came out of him could only be described as ‘ hysterically nervous ‘ . it bubbled out in the form of a laugh , high pitched and far too quick to dissapear , brought on by the giggling wine singing in his blood . shocked by his own self , the hand holding his wine goblet lifted to cover his lips , wide lilac eyes staring up at florus in disbelief that he’d even vocalize an opinion like that . wouldn’t it be tantamount to treason ? he doesn’t know if the wine has gotten to florus’ head , or if this was a calculated statement -- florus , to lovek , was often confusing like that . too smart for lovek to follow , an ever watching eye who looked through him like the skin keeping his heart safe didn’t even exist . “ you can’t say that , “ lovek blurts out , and he’s serious . florus can’t say that . not to anyone but lovek . and that’s probably why he said it to lovek . he blinks , and ponders it’s meaning . what would make florus believe that lovek would be a better emperor than zenos ? he was naive , and kindhearted , and no hardened warrior . he is a ghost in their shadow , their big ... bloody shadow . a shadow made of thoughtlessness . without a single care given towards anything sacred and holy in their lands , not even the people who give them power , how the world would wither in that cold unforgiving shadow . lovek lays his head atop the couch pillow , a blank look in his eyes as he watched florus at his side . florus must be talking , must be continuing with his explanation of his stance , and lovek knows he’ll be convinced of it . florus knows he’ll be convinced too . not that it is difficult . lovek is naive , and his heart bends to the whims of those who swear they’ll treasure it . whatever they want . whatever they need . at least that’s what he’s telling himself when he considers it further , a twitch causing his brows to furrow together and silently contemplate it . he stands suddenly , cutting off florus halfway through his sentence , pacing the room -- fabric shifts noisily as he does , lace and mesh dragging behind on ground it shouldn’t touch . he should pick it up . but he had spilled wine on it hours ago , and there was no saving it’s soiled existance . like faded out blood . it gets on your hands , under your nails -- it never really leaves . it stains , it holds an impression , strawberry red on glacial white snow . lovek hated the look of white stained in red . it never appealed to him . but you do what you have to to survive , you do what you’re told or you’re as worthless as the congealed frozen blood left on the ground . but that drove lovek to seek other things out . and that drove zenos to seek out strength , to never be a hare . one built empathy , and the other built a resistance to it . lovek hums thoughtfully , lifting his cup back to his lips and drinking deep until nothing remained . he looked at the bottom of the glass , like it might pull him out of his mind , before he looked back at florus with an unsure & worried look . “ you jest , “ he accused , but he doesn’t think florus is . not really . maybe part of it , maybe none of it . but lovek doesn’t like it , he feels toyed with . made to unravel a thought he didn’t like , an ugly little spark of something ugly . lovek doesn’t want to be ugly . “ please tell me you’re joking , “ he walks back , quickly , and slides back into his seat beside florus , halfway sitting on his lap , seeking his comfort . his rock . something that makes him feel beautiful , like pristine white snow on a quiet day . “ you’d have to be my emperial consort . “ as if that would make it unappealing , living lavishly in a palace without a worry in the world . he grimaces , and then hides his face in florus’ shoulder . “ surely there is someone better than me . “

#not even the like attempt to be like you're wrong or zenos will be a good emperor #SJHBFJKHEBFJHBFJKHEB #furorastra #this got long teehee #⬛️ in character post .

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therapardalis · 2 years

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[ @hearthofvesta from here.]

“I do not believe it’s about any marriage proposals. He knows my stance on those. I believe it’s more about another planet…” Leto spoke. Fearing that he might have to leave his homeworld sooner than he could handle. Caladan was everything to him. Where he grew up. This was home and he didn’t want to leave. Even if he thought he could do what was best for another planet. It wasn’t up to him.

“I leave in two weeks. You are welcome to join me.” He offered her as he sat back in his seat and rested his hands on the table. Ignoring Shaddam was foolish. The Emperor was a jealous man and often feared when someone became too popular. When he was overlooked but he adored his dear cousin, Leto. “He would not enjoy me ignoring him too much…”

“To my knowledge, they are around Paul’s age, hopefully. They won’t even look at me. It’s more so Shaddam possibly wanting me to take on more responsibilities than I care for ... do not fret, m’lady.”

“Well, that’s some small relief!” Smiling as she spoke. Do not fret, he assured, and with a deep breath Thera would do her best to comply. She circled around the table toward him, rested her hip against it as her fingertips traced his ear. The words ‘another planet’ nipped at her, creased a hint of a frown on her brow. That was a weightier matter than any betrothal-of-convenience, even if she hadn’t only suggested that in jest.

She could also mention it was more difficult when Leto seemed to be fretting himself, but that would be no help to either of them. Instead, she canted her head and returned to what had raised her eyebrows when said.

“Join you?” Raised her eyebrows and caught her breath by being unexpected, “To Kaitain? Is ...” A hesitation, glancing down then back, “I mean ... yes, I would like that. But is it wise?” She would go with him in a heartbeat, and the very thought of setting foot on the Emperor’s world ... her parents would have absolute fits. But at the core she was still only a soldier, an ‘assistant’ and woefully inexperienced in such things.

A wry smile tugged as her fingers moved along his jaw, stroking gently under his beard. “You know I’m not very good at being a diplomat ...”

#HearthofVesta #;Duke Leto #Dune AU #v; All I Need You To Be #DukeofCaladan

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starpros-sunshine · 2 years

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I'm sorry friends I am not doing a very good job at the clownery right now do you still think I'm hot?

#Clownery always makes me think of winery because thats just how it is when you're from the wine part of Europe #I am on the fields picking my clowns so that they may ripen and age into fine and silly court jesters #Only the best of the jest for the emperor #Oh but a clownery would just be a circus no?#that's where the lesser refines and ripened and silly clowns go #this is one of our vintages as you can see by the hat with the bells that jingle and by the label that reads 'Jesters Privilege'#Clowns are obvs the lesser aged ones because the court jesters came earlier #Oh my god clowns are just like wine #may this humble fool just add the Wataru pfp really rounds rhis whole thing up

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solohux · 3 years

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Hey Lottie idk if you're still accepting prompts for pregnant hux lol but if not it's aight i'd like your take on it. So Hux is due to give birth any day now and like he feels he's in labor but every time he and Kylo visit their nearby med center they say he isn't so they go home and wait. But what if suddenly a thunderstorm hits where they live and curse their luck Hux goes into labor lol what do you think will happen?

Peperit Centrum is the best medcentre in the galaxy for obstetrics. For centuries, kings, queens and consorts have come here to birth their heirs and receive outstanding care from the specialist medics so it only makes sense that Emperor Hux should want to give birth to his son here.

“Not in labour, they said,” the Emperor says through gritted teeth, taking Kylo’s hand to squeeze through the pain, grumbling to himself with one hand on his heavily pregnant belly. “Come back later, they said. I should have pulled out my blaster and made them take me to a birthing room.”

Kylo smirks, speaking in jest, “We’re all very grateful that you kept your temper in check, my liege.”

“You’re unnervingly calm about this, Ren.” Hux says, his voice drowned out by a roar of thunder outside. “I’m in labour!”

“I know,” Kylo is grimacing now as his husband’s grip on his hand becomes almost unbearable, squeezing the life out of it as another contraction crashes like a wave. “I think you’re panicking enough for the both of us.”

The thunderstorm has brought most of the sector to standstill. It’s the biggest that the area has seen for almost a hundred years; Hux curses the weather system for wanting to take the attention away from his son’s birth day. This was meant to be a day of celebration; Hux had planned it all down to the tiniest detail—even what music he wanted playing in the labour room as his prince was born—but the experts at the medcentre had deemed him too early and not in labour. And now, his son is going to be born in the royal bedchambers…on the same sheets that he was conceived on.

“I hate this,” Hux says, holding back tears. “This isn’t what I wanted.”

“But it’s the best we can do, my love,” Kylo says, kissing Hux’s hand. “You’re almost there.”

The royal medics who live in the palace are general practitioners, unqualified to help a person through labour so the most they can do is remain on stand-by and offer pain relief, though the Emperor has declined all of it in fear of what it may do to his baby. Even the best droid at their disposal has a limited knowledge of labour but it’s done well so far, thrumming soothing tones as it reports on the progress.

“The Supreme Leader is correct, Emperor,” the feminine-programmed voice says. “Almost there.”

“Don’t let go,” Hux whispers before crying out, squeezing on Kylo’s hand again.

“I’m right here,” Kylo says, pressing his forehead against Hux’s and taking a long, deep breath.

Hux doesn’t feel any pain with the next few pushes; he feels like he’s floating in Kylo’s arms, being carried across a beach to the gentle ocean waves where calmness waits. There’s no sound, no voice comes out of Hux’s mouth when he tries to say his husband’s name. Squinting against the sun, Hux looks up to Kylo, finding him as beautiful as ever as he carries him towards the sea.

A baby’s cry fills the air. Hux blinks and he’s back in the royal bedchambers, staring between his open legs to where his newborn son is being held and cleaned by the droid.

“A boy,” the droid is saying. “A boy, your highnesses. He is healthy. He is well.”

“Ren,” Hux gasps, allowing his tears to finally fall once his son is placed on his chest, screaming to let everyone know that he’s here and he’s Kylo Ren’s son. “He…he—!”

“I know,” Kylo says, sounding out of breath too but Hux is too emotional to do anything but hold his baby boy and kiss his head. “I’m so proud of you, Armitage.”

The room flashes with the light of a fork of lightning and thunder echoes, but somehow the baby’s cry is louder. He seems so tiny when Kylo cups his head, leaning in to kiss him and then Hux, though the latter barely has enough strength to reciprocate.

“Raiden,” Hux says, gently touching the baby’s head that already has a few dark hairs on it. “Raiden Hux-Ren.”

“That wasn’t what we agreed,” Kylo says but doesn’t sound upset. “But I like it. Raiden. It’s strong.”

“It’s thunder in Arkanisian. It…suits him.”

Another flash, another rumble. In Hux’s arms, Raiden settles.

Kylo sighs, “I think he agrees.”

#kylo took on hux's pain during the labour if that wasn't clear from my shitty writing #kylux #mpreg #pregnant hux #m:writing

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erzaguin · 3 years

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Huntmira Week Day 5/6/7: Masquerade/First Kiss/Favorite Headcanon

Intro

“Welcome one and all to the Emperor’s Coven celebration of the fast approaching day of unity! Emperor Bolos has graciously opened his home to all of you for a masquerade ball! Now come in and celebrate with us!”

Once the announcer's speech was over the gates to the Emperor’s Coven were open to the select few that had been invited to the ball. Only the most high tear residents of the Boiling Isles had been granted the honor of attending the event.

“Alright you three I want everyone to be on their best behavior, only the most elite were invited to this event so we should take advantage of this opportunity to make new connections.¨ said Odalia as she scanned the room for potential targets. ¨These masks will make things a bit more difficult but itś nothing we can't handle.¨

“You two know what you need to do right?” asked Odalia while holding on to her husband's arm to keep him from running off on his own. The man is a genius when it comes to inventing new products but he needs a bit of help when it comes to socializing. A skill that is essential to growing their business.

“Yes mother” responded the twins in unison giving her their best smiles.

“Good now go mingle” she said as she started pulling her husband along with her towards an unsuspecting group of potential clients.

While their younger sister was charged with testing and showing off Blight industry products the twins were tasked with being the faces of the company. They were meant to one day take over their mother's role as promoters of the family business. She knew that the twins were more than capable at speaking with clients and investors which is why she always kept them on the forefront during social events. They were naturally charismatic and had inherited her quick witts. One day they would be the ones running the company so it was important they build strong business relations.

Twins

“So what do you think?” asked Edric as he squinted in an attempt to survey the room. He needed glasses but he never wore them in front of others. The only times he used them was when he was home alone doing homework.

They were already drawing a lot of attention. Though this was intentional Odalia liked for all of them to stand out in these types of events. Making a lasting impression was good for business.

Emira was wearing a big beautiful off the shoulder golden gown with emerald detailings with her hair done up in a bun wearing a mask that matched her dress. Edric who was standing next to her was wearing a suit similar in design to his sisters with a matching mask. Even in a room filled with extravagant attire the two still stood out.

“You heard what mother said we have to mingle. See anyone we know?” responded Emira while she scanned the faces of the people starting to make their way to them.

“Nope I can’t tell who anyone is with all these flamboyant outfits. Want to just hit the obdurves table?”

“Amity is lucky she didn't have to come. She gets to hang out with her girlfriend while we get to mingle with business partners” mumbled Emira to herself.

“I see you’re mad you don’t get to see your boyfriend today” said Edric without thinking. Emira had still not fully forgiven him for ruining the first time she and Hunter met outside the library. “I mean uh yeah today is when you would normally go meet up with Hunter right?” he added in a panicked tone. The look on Emira’s face made him regret bringing up the subject.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about. I’ve already told you we are just friends. Besides, we haven’t spoken since that day at the carnival.” noted Emira in a grim tone.

“I’m really sorry Em I really messed things up between you guys” apologized Edric feeling genuinely remorseful. Emira had helped him find a partner and he had ruined her relationship with the first boy she liked.

“Like I said there was never anything between us. Let’s just go, come on.” mumbled Emira as she started to make her way to the obvdorbes table with Edric quick behind her heels.

It was true there wasn't anything between her and the Hunter. They were just friends if you could call them that. Even though they had been spending a lot of time together for a few months now Emira was not sure how Hunter saw her. They had never spent any time together outside of the library. He never spoke about himself to her all Emira knew was that Hunter was raised by his uncle but he wouldn’t say more than that. Most of the time he acted like he didn’t want her there.

It was her own fault. She knew better. The number one rule that has been drilled into all three siblings is do not get attached. The moment you get attached to something you lose. But I had been sure it would be different with Hunter. It was different with him. They would spend the days they weren’t together sending messages to one another. Or at least they had until that day at the carnival. It had already been a week since then and Hunter had still not spoken to her. The only message he had sent her after the carnival just said one word.

“I know Ed blames himself and at first I blamed him too but I know it’s not his fault. I was the one that fantacied there was something there when there obviously wasn’t. Live and learn right? At least it ended before it started. I just wish he would have said something instead of just ghosting me. I thought that at the very least the time we had spent together would have earned me that much. Who knows maybe I’ll meet someone here? One thing's for sure next time around I won’t be making the same mistake again.” thought Emira to herself as she kept moving forward.

Hunter

"She's pretty" noted Emperor Belos from his throne to Hunter who was standing next to him.

"Huh? Who?" Question Hunter puzzled by his uncle's words. He had never heard Emperor Belos refer to anyone as pretty or even note a person’s appearance. It somehow felt wrong coming from him, especially while he was wearing his mask.

"The girl you've been staring at all evening" teased Emperor Belos who was now looking directly at him.

Hunter had never been so happy to be wearing his helmet as it shielded his burning face from his uncle. "No I wasn't… I was scanning the room for threats… yeah threats'' sputtered Hunter as he panicked at the sudden accusation. His uncle had no idea of the secret meetups he had been having with Emira over the past few months and Hunter prefered to keep it that way.

“Ah yes that young lady does certainly look very threatening.” mused Belos looking back in the direction of the. “ Is she? She’s the eldest Blight girl right? That’s her brother next to her. Hmmm looks like she doesn't have a date. You know you should ask her for a dance. That way you can put your suspicions to rest.” said Belos as he leaned in towards Hunter so only he could hear him.

Although he knew it was impossible Hunter was afraid that his uncle was able to see how red his face had become through his mask or that he could hear the beating of his heart which sounded like drums playing to him. He was at a complete loss of words at his sudden brashness. “...I … no I have to stay close incase of trouble.” managed Hunter. Belos gave a light chuckle before putting a hand on Hunter’s shoulder and giving him a slight push forward. “Go have fun, this is a celebration after all. And don’t worry about me, I think I can manage without you for the duration of a dance or two.” he jested in a warm tone.

Hunter stumbled forward before taking a look back at his uncle who was gesturing for him to go. This was not like him at all although they had never been in a situation where Hunter could actually socialize with people that were not in the coven or direct followers of Emperor Belos. It still felt wrong.

“That’s an order, go have fun.” added Emperor Belos in a more authoritative tone but Hunter could still hear the smile behind his mask. “Besides, we need someone that represents me to interact with our guests. Who better than my right hand man?” he added in a more relaxed tone.

Hunter took in his uncle's words before responding “Yes Emperor Belos”as he gave a bow in the direction of his uncle. He then turned around and started making his way through the crowd in the direction of Emira.

Twins

Edric noticed him first. It was the Golden Guard making his way straight to them ignoring everyone that tried to make conversation with him. “He must be mad,” whispered Edric to his sister.

“Who?” said Emira looking around for the source of her brother's concern but it did not take her long to realize who it was.

“Hey Ed, did you do something to the Golden Guard without telling me?’ asked Emira while raising an eyebrow at her brother.

“I was going to ask you the same thing” responded Edric. “What do you think he wants?”

“He probably wants to talk business since the Emperor practically owns Blight Industries now. Although that doesn’t explain why he would want to talk to us.” pondered Emira.

“Maybe he would rather talk to us than mom.” offered Edric.

“Well mom did say to mingle. Who knows maybe we can get on his good side?” replied Emira

Before Edric could respond the golden guard was already standing only a few feet from them. Just standing there staring in their general direction. Or at least they assumed he was it was hard to tell with his helmet on.

Hunter

“Ask her for a dance” he says, like it's that easy. Mumbled Hunter to himself. She doesn’t know I’m the golden guard, she'll probably think I’m just some creep. Not like it would be easier for Hunter to ask her for a dance. They hadn’t spoken since the carnival. When he came back to the castle that day he had been informed about the ball his uncle was throwing. Ever since then he had been extremely busy with managing the event. He hadn’t even had time to respond to her messages. The last message he sent to her just said busy. She probably hates him now.

Pl”us I’d never asked someone for a dance before and this was Emira. At least as the golden guard she wouldn’t be able to see his reactions to her teasing.” thought Hunter to himself as he continued to make his way through the crowd. “What am I supposed to say? Hey Em it’s me Hunter wanna dance? Oh this yeah I’m the Golden Guard. Yeah, the same Golden Guard that threatens your parents no big deal.” Scoffed Hunter to himself. He allowed himself to look back at Emperor Belos. He wasn’t surprised to see his uncle was watching him make his way to the twins.

“Right I was given an order and I have to follow it through. Maybe Emira doesn’t need to know who I am. That way I still get to follow my orders and she won't hate me as much” tried to bargain Hunter “...she’ll find out eventually though.” He was so deep in thought that he hadn’t realized he was already standing just a few feet from the twins. He took a deep breath to steady his nerves before taking a step forward “Here goes everything” thought Hunter to himself.

Twins

“Smile Ed,” whispered Emira to her brother who was getting more and more uncomfortable with the man standing before them. The Golden Guard stood there for an uncomfortable amount of time just staring at them or at least looking in their general direction; it was hard to tell with his mask on.

“Hey are you o…” before Edric could finish the Golden Guard took a step towards them which caused Edric to stop speaking.

Both twins bowed before the Golden Guard but when they lifted their heads they were surprised to see his hand was outstretched towards them.

Hunter cleared his throat before asking “Could I have this dance?”

The twins were momentarily dumbfounded. Did the Golden Guard just ask for a dance? He was directing his question at Emira but before she could respond Edric stepped forward and took the Golden Guard’s hand.

“Oh I thought you’d never ask.” said Edric as he feigned bashfulness.This was not the first creep that had set their sights on his sister and it wouldn’t be the last. This guy had muscled his way into their families business. Their parents had been on edge ever since their interaction with him. Golden Guard be damned there was no way Ed would allow him near his sister.

“Uhh I uh” Hunter was compleatly taken off guard by Edrics advance. Not to mention the sudden shift in his demeanor. Even though they had only met once before Ed had come across as a kind, warm, and childish individual. His words and actions did not match his eyes; the person in front of him had no warmth in his eyes. I wouldn't have thought he could be so assertive. “That makes sense after what you did to their parents,” thought Hunter to himself.

“That’s enough Ed” said Emira while placing a hand on her brother’s shoulder. “Besides I believe he was asking me, right?” she noted with a smile while giving Hunter a wink.

“I uh yes ...um” Hunter felt his face get hot and once again was grateful for his helmet concealing his face.

“Em are you sure” whispered Edric to his sister while shooting a glare at Hunter.

“Yeah it’s ok I can handle this besides it’s just one dance. Why don’t you go find mom and dad? I’ll meet up with you guys after ok.” she whispered back trying to sooth her twin.

“...Ok” said Edric before shooting one last cold glance at Hunter and walking away to find their parents.

Blights

“...Isn't that right Honey '' gushed Odalia who was speaking with one of Blight Industries frequent customers about a potential new product. “Honey?”

Alador’s attention was completely enthralled by something off in the distance. “Alador?” puzzled Odalia as she began to worry.

“Dear is that our daughter dancing with the Golden Guard?” queried Alador who was squinting his eyes in an attempt to get a better view. Just like his son he also needed glasses but Odalia had given up on trying to get him new ones since he always broke or lost them. Now his goggles were his only glasses which he never remembered to use when he was not working on a project.

“What?! Where?!” asked Odlia while searching the dance floor for their daughter. Emira was not hard to find due to the extravagant dress. Not to mention people were giving the couple a bit more space given that her daughter's partner was indeed the Golden Guard. Odalia had made it a point of getting the twins the most extravagant attire she could find. It was important to make lasting impressions. Although she never thought that would earn this type of attention.

Odalia let out a slight gasp when she saw her eldest daughter dancing with Emperor Belos' right hand man. “Where's Edric?” breathed Odalia while she looked for her baby boy. There was no way Edric would have left his sister with the Golden Guard and she knew it. He had always been protective of her which means he might have done something reckless.

“I’m right here mother” grumbled Edric who was still staring daggers at his sister's dance partner from behind his parents.

“Oh dear, come tell us what happened,” whispered Odalia to her disgruntled son, making note that he did not have a scratch on him. That was a good sign.

“He just approached us and asked Em to dance, I tried stopping it but Em said she could handle it,” mumbled Edric who was still unsettled by the situation.

Odalia let out a sigh of relief and straightened herself. “Don’t worry dear, your sister can handle this, she's a very smart and resourceful girl. Before the night is over she’ll have the Golden Guard eating from the palm of her hand.” bragged Odalia while giving her son what she thought looked like a reassuring smile but was more self satisfying than anything. If Emira said she could handle it then Odalia was sure her daughter already had a plan in mind. Out of her children Emira had sertently been the one to have inherited her cunning.

“This could be a great opportunity for us,” added Alador who was still squinting at the dance floor.

“Yes indeed” noted Odalia who was already thinking of all the benefits that could come out of this.

Edric on the other hand was not convinced and he still wanted to get Emira away from that guy as soon as possible.

Hunter

“Step one two three.. Step one two three.. don’t step on her feet.” thought Hunter to himself as he tried to keep his cool. “Focus Hunter it’s just one dance you can do this just don’t look at her eyes. And remember you have the advantage since she can’t see your face. Yeah but you can see hers. Oh titan, how is she so calm?”

After a while of dancing Emira finally said “So you’re the Golden Guard?” she mused while giving him a mischievous smile.

Hunter had been spending all of his concentration dancing that he flinched when she spoke. “I um yes” he stammered before clearing his throat and saying it again this time with more confidence “Yes I am.”

“Who would have thought that nerdy boy I met at the library was actually Emperor Belos' right hand man,” wondered Emira to herself as she kept on dancing without any hesitation.

“Yeah… wait what? I... uh no don’t know what you mean,” faltered Hunter before finally giving up. “What gave it away?” he whispered, getting ready for the backlash that was sure to come.

“Your voice, I knew as soon as you asked me to dance. Did you really think I wouldn't be able to tell it was you?” she asked with a smile genuinely amused. “I will say that I was taken off guard at first. Not that you were the Golden Guard but that you were actually asking me to dance.”

Upon hearing this Hunter felt a huge weight lift off his chest and he felt his body relax. He had been so afraid of losing his best friend he never even stopped to think that no matter what she would always accept him for him.

“I’m sorry Em…” he started but was cut off by Emira who had leaned in to kiss him. Or at least she kissed his helmet where his lips would be.

“Curse this stupid helmet” thought Hunter to himself. He tried to speak but the only thing that came out was something that sounded like a whimper rather than words.

Emira giggled to herself while trying to hide her smile behind her hand. “Was she blushing?” thought Hunter.

“That was a lovely dance. We should do this again sometime but maybe next time lose the helmet? She said as she pulled away from him. “See you around Hunter.” she said as she started walking with that same smile on her face.

“What just happened? Did she just kiss him? Why did she kiss him? And why was he wearing this stupid helmet?!” thought Hunter to himself as his brain scrambled to make sense of what just happened.

It wasn’t until now that Hunter realized that the song they had been dancing to had long since ended.

Blights

As soon as Emira reached her family her mother quickly pulled her into a hug.

“You did good, dear” said Alador in his usual monotone voice.

“Way to go you just made that boy fall head over heels for you.” added Odalia in an excited tone.

She knew that her parents ment the remarks in terms of a business achievement but Emira could not help but smile at the thought of them praising her for dancing with the boy she liked.

“Thanks,” she said with a smile that brightened up her face.

The only one that was not in high spirits was Edric who could not believe what had just happened but before he could confront his sister Emira took him by the arm and pulled him away.

“We’re going to get some punch ok?” said Emria to her parents as she pulled her brother along.

“Alright have fun,” said Odaia before quickly turning around to speak with the crowd of people that had gathered around them. Having their daughter dance with the Golden Guard had definitely gotten them some attention.

Hunter

As soon as he gathered his bearings Hunter made his way back to Emperor Belos' side. And although he could not see his face he got the feeling that his uncle was grinning at him. But before he could reach him he was approached by Kikimora.

“How unsightly to have the Golden Guard walking around with lipstick on his helmet. You are supposed to be a representation of Emperor Belos yet look at you. Walking around like a love struck boy. You could hardly stay on your feet after that girl kissed you. How embarrassing.” sneered Kikimora low enough so that only Hunter could hear her.

“What lipstick?” thought Hunter to himself before the sudden realization dawned on him. Instead of heading back to his uncle he took a turn to go to a part of the castle that was sealed off for the rest of the party. Once he was out of sight he took off his helmet to inspect it and sure enough there it was. Emira’s lipstick from where she had kissed him. His face turned a deep crimson color when he realized he had been walking around like that on top of the realization that he had not imagined it she had kissed him.

He made up his mind, without putting his helmet back on he headed to his room to change.

Twins

“Em, wait, what’s going on? And why did you kiss that guy?” demanded Edric, digging in his heels so that his sister couldn't pull him anymore.

“Calm down Ed I just want to get somewhere we can talk without being interrupted ok?” said Emira who was still smiling.

“Fine, how about over there behind the stairs?” sighted Edric as he pointed to a set of stairs not far from them.

“That’s perfect” said Emira as she started making her way to them with her brother walking next to her.

As soon as they arrived Edric quickly started again but was silenced by Emira who had placed her hand over his mouth.

“I know what you’re going to say but wait and listen to me first. That was Hunter.” noted Emira before removing her hand from her brother's face.

Edric was in a brief state of shock unable to comprehend what his sister had just said. “Wait Hunter? Like your Hunter?” he asked, still not believing what his sister had said.

“Yup he’s the Golden Guard,” added Emira with a small smile.

“You knew? And you didn’t tell me? Em I was so scared” muttered Edric “Did you not tell me because of what happened at the carnival.” he whispered, sounding hurt.

“No Ed it’s not like that. I didn’t know either, I just found out too. You know I tell you everything.” she said, giving him a reassuring smile.

Edric returned his sister's smile before asking “So did he confess his undying love for you?”

Before Emira could respond Ed spun her around so she could see Hunter, not the Golden Guard, making his way towards them. He was wearing a white suit with a golden shirt and a mask that only covered his eyes.

“Ready for round two?” he said before stepping forward to greet Hunter. After they exchanged some words Emira could not make out Hunter continued making his way to her whild Ed used his magic to make sure nobody else could see the pair.

“Hey Em,” said Hunter, who was looking at the floor in a futile attempt to hide his face so she couldn't see him blushing.

“Hey,” she responded, trying to keep her normal composure.

“Um… you said you wanted to try a dance without the helmet right? So.. would you… like to dance with me.” said Hunter who had his hand outstretched towards her and whose face was the deepest shade of crimson color she had ever seen.

“Of course” said Emira while taking his hand.

The song that was playing was a slow song and it gave them time to talk. Once that song was over they kept on dancing to the next ones and catching up on everything they had not spoken about in the past week. How busy Hunter had been and how he was afraid that she might be angry at him to which Emira confessed she thought Hunter no longer wanted to be her friend.

Hunter had not realized he had made her sad. He always assumed she would be mad at him but it neve occurred to him that he would hurt her. She was the one person in the world he would never want to hurt. It must have been the sadness in her eyes which were always so full of joy and playfulness that made him lose his sense of reason. Before he knew what he was doing his lips were already pressed against hers.

When he pulled away he was ready to apologize for kissing her so suddenly but then she kissed him back.

When she pulled away Hunter could see her face. She was blushing and had a smile that lit up the entire room “I really missed you,” she said.

At seeing her face and hearing those words Hunter's heart skipped a beat. Nobody has ever said they missed him.

"I missed you too," he replied, returning her smile.

#the owl house #emira blight #huntmira #huntmiraweek2021 #toh hunter #toh fanfic #edric blight #odalia blight #alador blight #emperors coven #emperor belos #toh fanart #toh golden guard

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readerinsertfanfiction · 4 years

Text

Hinamatsuri

Fandom: Ikemen Sengoku

Character: Keiji Maeda

Prompt: It is his birthday, or so I was told. March 3 is also the day of the peach blossom festival, or rather known today as Girl’s day. Of course I gotta write something to celebrate that. Well, about peach blossoms and Keiji, of course. Girl’s day I don’t really care for.

With the first breeze of spring entering the country a new year was lauded in and the season of blossoms started. First the sturdy plum blossoms, contrasting a beautiful red against the last snow remaining. It was the flower of his clan, the symbol that he wore on his back and represented him; Keiji Maeda. A man as red headed as the blooming branches of the plum trees, and as brilliant as he was bright like the spring sun. A man whose birthday was upcoming, slowly edging to a close just as spring announced itself with the air of the world coming alive once more.

“You want to celebrate Hinamatsuri?” the man had repeated after you in surprise. You had never professed yourself to be particularly religious, but Keiji wasn’t one to deny you your fun as he grimaced at you. “Sure, why not. It will be nice to see the sea,” he says, though you can detect something of disappointment in his eyes. “There will be a lot of people, though,” he mused and you knew that he was sulking inwardly.

“It’s a date,” you tell him, giving him a little poke in the shoulder as you keep your plans a secret. “Let’s wash away our worries and then view some peach blossoms,” you continue in a breath and Keiji’s mood seems to improve somewhat at that, his pout turning into a little blush at the promise of a date with you.

“And maybe some mochi?” he adds in hopefully and you chuckle at the excitement, agreeing to some mochi as well, you enjoyed them just as much after all.

The rest of the plan went on smoothly. Having written in advance you had managed to receive several gifts from friends all around that the vagabond had made over the course of his travels. The amount nearly toppled over your horse as you realised how well-loved this warlord was by those around him. Well-loved, yet it went by unnoticed by the man himself who hid his insecurities with a beaming smile. Presents from Kasugayama, from the capital city, from everywhere and even from Azuchi. It had been the idea of the Oda forces after all to take the man out for a little break.

“Are you planning on moving permanently?” Keiji had teased you when he offered to unload some of the weight onto his horse. “Don’t you know that you should pack lightly?” he had told you, but you didn’t dare to tell him that it was all for him. Too anxious to reveal the surprise, just as much as you didn’t want to spoil the fun now. Though, in hindsight, perhaps it would have been for the best if you had left the presents in his room instead. So that he had another surprise to return to when your trip was over. But some of the letters you had received had insisted that Keiji would receive them on the day of his birthday itself.

“Perhaps we should!” you retorted instead, “we can buy a carriage and travel the country together,” you finished, though perhaps your excitement was more sincere than you had initially thought. The idea of trekking through the country together was a nice idea, after all, but it was only a nice thought with him.

The look in Keiji's eyes tells you that he takes your offer seriously, a longing in his eyes before he shakes it off and beams a smile at you, "when the war is over!"

It is a common promise you hope could be fulfilled soon. You had faith in them, but most of all in Keiji.

"Consider this practice!" you both announced to each other, a wide grin spreading as you exchanged one last look and then jumped onto the horses, finally departing for the sea.

You had made two dolls for the occasion, a pair so to say. The first one you had revealed looked like you, wearing your favourite colours along with elaborate details. As if representing the royal pair at the top of the tower. The second one was clad in bright colours, a plum blossom on the back with wild red hair and it was obvious who the doll was supposed to be.

"Dressing me like the emperor feels like treason to the court," Keiji had jested, though he had admired your handiwork all the same. Eyes bright in excitement as he even let go of a little gasp at the detail of the mole at the back of his neck that could be found on the doll.

You had explained to Keiji how the celebrations were honoured in your time and the man had encouraged you to send the dolls off like a royal fanfare. A jest, of course, but you couldn't help but marvel at the idea all the same.

"You're my rising sun, after all," you teased the man, earning yet another blush. For all the bravado Keiji showed he was still sensitive to being flirted with, or to even be complimented. But he was learning how to bear your love better and he responded with an embrace, arms sneaking around you as he pressed a kiss into your hair.

"Then why send me off?" he questions huskily, his voice a thrum in your ears.

You chuckle in response, the dolls in hands raised up as you bring them together. "So that we may face our worries and challenges together," comes your response and for a while the man falls silent, overwhelmed by the thought and love you gave.

And though surrounded by a crowd, and though you still had to set the dolls on the boat, see the peach blossom trees, and have some mochi; though you had yet to start your date, Keiji knew that he had a blessed day.

Letting his head fall onto your shoulder he snuggles in deeper into your scent, a content smile on his face as he holds your hands in his. You rub some circles in his with your thumb as you return the quiet affection given, a sigh escaping you as you can't hold yourself back.

"Happy birthday," you whisper, surprising him as you take this chance to steal a kiss when he looks up, "may there be many more to come," you tell him, smile widening as his face reddens and his lips sputter.

In the end he relents, not questioning anymore how you had managed to find out, or that you had. The pieces fell together and suddenly Keiji felt a little silly for feeling sulky when you were working together so hard to surprise him. Only gratefulness remained as it dawned onto the man how your effort, but also that of his friends were exemplary of his role in their lives and their love for him.

#ikesen keiji #ikemen sengoku keiji #ikemen keiji #keiji maeda #keiji x reader #ikesen #ikemen sengoku #ikesen x reader #ikemen sengoku x reader

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likesomekindofcheese · 4 years

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Hey, you said to flood you with requests and stuff, so here I go. Reader is Grigor's wife (he deserves so much better than what he got on the show) and just gave birth to their first child, a daughter. Everyone pities Grigor because he doesn't have an heir to carry on the Dymov name, but he adores his little princess and spends every free moment with reader and their little girl. Thanks in advance!

Sophie!!! This is so cute!!! I’m uwuing and yearning and crying at the same time!! Get ready, this might be a huge-ass blurb!!!!

tw: swearing and mentions of sex and childbirth and children

Letting out a breath, you finally heard your baby cry. Sweat dripped over your face, your hair was a mess, and worst of all, there was half of the court watching to see it from over your legs. You began heaving in big gulps of air, relieved it was finally over. You had sweated over your shift and felt that you might as well be naked in front of the whole court.

They fanned themselves, sipping champagne as you heard the doctor cut the umbilical cord. A physician changed bedsheets beneath you.

“Ooof, all that blood,” Count Orlo commented, putting a handkerchief into his hand and keeping it close to his mouth.

“Yes, well, that’s the way it is…” Lady Svenska said with a shrug.

Turning over, you saw Grigor’s face. He looked faint, green. He was uneducated about what happened during childbirth but insisted if the court wanted to watch he had to be there too. And watching the extremities of the female body firsthand made him tremble. But his hand never left yours throughout the long hours of labor.

“Are you…are you alright, Y/N?” he asked worriedly.

“I…I’m tired…but I’m fine…” you said.

He kissed your cheek, “I’m so proud of you, no matter what…”

The crowd gathered around like chickens as the doctor and nurses cleaned the baby. But you knew there was the one thing they wanted to know. Even more than the baby’s health. Your own heart was beating hard. You heard water swishing as they washed the child.

Then the bundle was handed to the physician in a soft, white blanket. Catherine caught a glimpse of the little one’s new face and she gave a beautiful smile. Then looked up at you, mouthing “congratulations.”

The doctor finally handed it over to you. The baby was alive and breathing.

“Monsieur and Madame Dymov, you are now the parents of a healthy…”

“Thank god…” you blurted.

“A healthy...beautiful little girl…” he finished.

He gave you the bundle and you made out the red, squished face. She was so tiny. She looked almost nothing like and everything you expected. Grigor kept gawking at her.

But there was a silence around the court. You glanced up to see a few curled frowns and whispers. Only the Empress came by to speak to you. She gave a glance at the little one’s face and wished her dearest blessing on your little family before waltzing off.

The tiny hands began to move sporadically. Then he let out a huge grin, a half-laugh came from him. He turned to you, his blue eyes looking large.

“I…I’ve never been so…so…”

“So completely in fucking trouble…”

His head shot up.

“Peter! I…I didn’t see you!” He said. His legs stopped, he stayed by your side, holding the little babe.

Peter walked up and gave him a pat on the back. You gritted your teeth.

“I guess congratulations are in order. She didn’t die…but you don’t have an heir to the Dymov name, title, estates, property, or money! Grigor…”

“Uh, well…I…” Grigor sputtered, blinking between his friend and you with the baby.

“I guess Y/N is a complete failure even after she’s had a good fuck!” he continued.

Tears began to well up in spite of his presence and dipping your head down so only your baby saw you tear up.

“Come on, Peter!... and speaking of come, I have more reason to rejoice…” Grigor jested, wiggling his eyebrows lasciviously.

“Humph?”

“More chances to fuck a boy into Y/N, of course! I’ll be enjoying my cock with her every night from now on! By next month, she’ll hardly be able to walk down the hall!” he explained cheerfully, taking Peter by the shoulders and shaking him.

“Why, huzzah! You are optimistic my friend!” he praised, “And I am glad the child’s healthy…for now. You never know. Girls are weak, anyway…that one might drop dead of her own blood when she’s twelve! Now I need to drink some wine for dinner and get a cock-sucking for dessert, goodbye!”

He whisked around and left, you breathed a sigh of relief.

“Grigor…are you really disappointed?” you questioned. “I…I’m afraid I…I have failed you…” you found yourself crying.

The feeling of now emptiness in your belly. The hormones. The experience. Everything came down.

“No…no, Y/N…I love her…I love…our daughter. Our girl. And she’s healthy. That’s all I could ask for…you have not and will never fail me and right now…”

He took your hand and kissed it.

“I love you more than ever…” he confessed.

Smiling, you reached in to “Can I…can I hold her, now?” Grigor asked.

Nodding, you handed the cooing baby over to him.

His jaw dropped as he accepted her. You showed him how to cradle her neck and her bum safely to hold her.

“I’m so fucking nervous, what if I drop her!” he confessed.

“You won’t! Sit on the bed if you’re that nervous!” you offered, weakly shifting aside.

When you handed the tiny girl over to your husband, she began to wriggle. His lips went tight.

“Ah! She already feels heavy! Now she’s moving! She’s minutes old and won’t sit still!” he commented.

“Relax, Grigor…” you urged.

Eventually, she settled down and you had a few first quiet moments. She even opened her eyes to Grigor. And you saw him cry silently.

The next week was thrilling and exhausting. Yet every night, once you heard your daughter wail, Grigor was out of the bed like a shot. You would shift up, but he put a hand in front of you to stop you.

“Here, Y/N…get some sleep…” he ordered.

“But…”

“I didn’t push a fucking baby from my crotch a few days ago! Get some sleep!”

He always insisted on heading over and caring for the little one.

Though, sometimes she was hungry, only then would he wake you up to suckle. He then made sure that a pot of tea was prepared and some kind of cake, biscuit, dessert, or even something like slices of apple and toasted bread. But it was peaceful, the dark night with low lights in your shared, red bedroom. The sound and feel of her mouth on your nipple as she sucked. And Grigor watching as he took care of your empty plate, sipping his tea thoughtfully. But with a quiet smile.

One night, you placed her back on her blanket so you could finish your tea. He even looked at you and said, “I thought…I would like to name her after you, Y/N…”

“I…really?” you asked.

He nodded, “I want her to grow up and to be like you…because you’re the best woman I’ve ever known…and the christening is in two days and that’s the only name I can come up with.”

“Well, alright, it’ll be odd for me, we can call her Mademoiselle Dymov if we get confused.

But he kept playing with the baby every free hour. He held her in her robe and went to mirrors. Pointing at her in the reflection, as she cooed in response.

“Who is that? Who is that! It’s little miss Y/F/N! And isn’t she beautiful!” he cheered.

He kept holding the little girl up to his face and she would reach for him. Playing with his cheeks, lips, and especially his nose until he burst out laughing. She developed a habit of sucking on his nose that he would let her do for several minutes until you couldn’t stop laughing. But he smiled all through it.

The next month, he insisted on a room to be a nursery for the little Mademoiselle. But you were surprised to find every kind of flower, bow, dolly, decoration, and animal toy in there. He was even dressing the little girl already in a tiny blue dress made of silk.

“Why…don’t you look stunning, Princess Y/F/N! I chose that color because that was what your mother wore the day I met her…did you know that?” he whispered, fixing a little bonnet on her head. She babbled in response.

Quietly walking behind, you cleared your throat, and he turned around with a jump.

“I think we’re going to give the Dauphin of Versailles a run for his money with this nursery alone!” you laughed. “She’ll start thinking she is the dauphin of Versailles!”

He grinned, showing you the baby in her new dress.

“Why it’s what she deserves as my daughter!” he answered with his handsome smile.

Although he would go to the Emperor as called, many an evening was spent in front of the roaring fireplace on a cold night holding little Y/F/N or having her in a nearby cradle as you played cards or read, though either your hand or his would reach up to touch or tickle her.

One evening, it was his turn to read. You sat by the fire, holding the little Mademoiselle right over your arms but low on your lap. She looked up at you, laughing at something and you looked down and grinned back. Grigor stopped reading. You caught him looking

“What is it?” you asked quietly.

“I’m just…happy here, with both of my women…that’s all…I never knew I could be so at peace but…here it is…” he commented, before walking up to kiss you on the lips.

The Great Taglist: @foxinaforestofstars @itsametaphorgwil @grigorlee @itsametaphorgwil @always-a-fairycat @foxinaforestofstars @simonedk @i-wished-upon-a-star-one-night @queenlover05 @xviiarez @kiainspace @gwilymleeisbae @writeroutoftime @staradorned @iwritefanficnotprophecies @panagiasikelia @marshmxllowfluf

#carrie writes #the great fanfic #grigor dymoc x reader #grigor #grigor dymov #grigor dymov x reader #grigor dymov x fem! reader #grigor dymov x fem! y/n #grigor dymov x y/n

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anakinisvaderisanakin · 4 years

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Memento - (Ahsoka and Vader’s thoughts at the end of TCW oneshot)

****

Ahsoka regarded the saber in her hand. Smudged, dented. Its weight sodden against her palm, a sombre reminder of what was no more. As the dust settled around her, the crudely painted helmets of her squad served as the only reminder of what had transpired. Jesse, loyal til the end. Forced to kill his friends, willing to die because of one fatal final order. Behind her, she felt Rex’s forlorn eyes on her. The smell of embers and ashes burned her nostrils, the crackling of burning wires and melting durasteel dying away with the winds mournful wail.

What was to become of her now? The saber was her only tie to her roots, to her legacy. Was she to remain a fugitive forever? If the Jedi had all been targeted, surely any stragglers would be hunted down.

The saber. Her last tie to the order. To her upbringing, her religion, her family. To Anakin. Anakin, who had saved both her weapons; hopeful, perhaps naively so, that she would return to the Jedi. To him. Where she belonged. Anakin, who had been so excited to see her again. Anakin, who had eagerly approached her only for her to shoot him down. Anakin, who was only going to save the Chancellor, to finally end the war. The war was over, but at what cost? Was Anakin even still alive? There were so many things she’d meant to tell him, how she wished she’d left master Yoda with a message. He had inquired, and yet she’d hesitated.

What about Maul’s supposed visions? Anakin was groomed to be the Sith Lord’s new apprentice. Darth Sidious. The Chancellor, now Emperor. No. Anakin was kind, and good, and brave. He’d never fall so far, never stoop so low. Ahsoka refused to even entertain the idea, refused to imagine a world in which invincible Anakin could succumb to darkness. She’d felt his despair, she’d felt the shrill cry through the Force. She’d sensed his conflict, his fear, his pain - and then he was gone.

She reached out, but found nothing as if grasping at straws. Emptiness, and a raw wound where their connection had been bluntly severed. Anakin would never purposely shut her out, never willingly break their bond. That left only one option.

Sighing, body sore, aching and weary from the struggle to survive; Ahsoka admired the saber. Where its twin had disappeared to, she couldn’t say. Lost somewhere in the turmoil, as she and Rex fought tooth and nail to persevere. Once its blade had been a vibrant green, now a royal blue. Anakin’s doing. She hadn’t minded. It had felt like a gesture of affection, of appreciation. Something to tie her closer to her former master, the man who had become like her older brother. Closer to Obi-Wan, too.

What about him? Had he managed to get to Anakin in time? She couldn’t sense him either, the Dark Side streaming through the living Force like an infection, like a festering, deadly disease. Rotting all that was good and warm away, leaving her to fumble blind in the vast darkness of infinity.

Ahsoka stroked the pad of her thumb over the ignition button, faltering for a moment. The saber had been a gift, a token. It was her life, as Anakin had once said - something he, in turn, had been taught by Obi-Wan. Still, if she kept it as a memento, allowing it to be a weakness, it may do more harm than good. A lightsaber was a Jedi’s weapon, and as far as she was aware, all Jedi must die. If she left the saber, perhaps - if it were found - she would be presumed dead? Swallowing stubbornly against the ball of unshed tears lodged in her throat, she took in the weight of the saber that had saved her life uncountable times in her hand. Allowed herself to think of Anakin, of how she owed her life to him. Of how she wished she’d been able to come to his aid. They were supposed to have more time.

Hand going limp, Ahsoka let the saber hilt fall to the rough ground with a dull, metallic clunking noise. It rolled over and came to a skidded halt, and she shut her eyes tightly together; lips pursed with the last of her resolve. The Jedi were gone. The Republic was gone. The clones, the entire 332nd wiped out in an instant. Master Yoda, Master Plo, Master Sinube, Master Kenobi.

Anakin.

Tipping her head back, Ahsoka’s chin quivered as she regarded the billowing smoke spilling from the ruins of the star destroyer that had become the tomb of her friends. The tomb of her past, of her present; of her reality. She felt the burn behind her eyes, the bridge of her nose red hot and prickly. It wasn’t supposed to end like this. Blinking rapidly, she slowly shifted to turn her back on the rows of graves she and Rex had dug for his brothers. Their brothers. Avoiding another glance at the carnage, at her discarded Jedi identity, she let the makeshift cemetery fade away in the distance. She was alone now, and so was Rex. Perhaps the last of the Jedi, as well as the last clone with his free will intact - the only clone without Jedi blood on his hands.

At least they were alone together. As she dragged her feet up to join Rex by the beat up bomber that had become their saving grace, his bruised face seemed hollow. His half smile was weak, dishonest. An attempt at calming her, at reassuring her. Watching his hollow dark eyes, still glassy as he mourned his fallen brothers; she caved. Warm, salty tears rolled down her cheeks as she hid her face in her trembling hands and cried.

****

Vader regarded the saber in his hand. It was smaller, lighter than he remembered it. Frail, fragile. Snow and ice clinging to its freezing durasteel exterior; even as he used a still somewhat clumsy hand to brush it off. It gleamed in the cold sunlight, air crisp with the howling of the wind. The Jedi had meant for this specific saber to be a gift, and a plea. A plea for his lost padawan to return to him, to the Jedi order. The Jedi had been cowards, traitors and liars. A sect, envious of The Jedi’s powers, of his capabilities, of his potential. They had been foolish, and naive. Backwards, stuck in a bygone era. The padawan had been the first to fall by the wayside, their first oversight, their first sacrifice. The Jedi had tried to dissuade her, begging her to stay. He hadn’t betrayed her, he’d believed in her innocent. He’d been the one to clear her name. Still, she abandoned him. Still, she thought only of herself.

The Jedi couldn’t be blamed for the order, and their hubris. But the padawan had been his responsibility. He had failed her, just as his old master had failed him. A lineage of tragedy. The padawan wasn’t a Jedi, not anymore. Still, the lone saber and its dented, damaged exterior spoke a painful truth where it lay discarded among the wreckage of a republic star destroyer. Lonely, forgotten. Left behind.

The padawan would never let it go, would never willingly abandon such an important part of her identity. If she had lived, it would have brought her comfort, reminding her of The Jedi - a foolish young man that Vader refused to admit was all too present. His ghost, and the mistakes he’d made, haunting his nightmares; his every waking moment imprisoned by the chains he himself had forged. The padawan would want to keep the saber, to remember her master as he was - unaware of what he had become.

Shifting, Vader took the dainty saber hilt awkwardly in both hands, silently admiring its familiar silhouette as he flicked the ignition. The blue blade appeared with the expected hiss, slightly wobbly but intact. The padawan’s eyes had spoken of her gratitude when she’d accepted it; taking the gift The Jedi had reserved only for her. He’d hoped she may return, even when his master had half convinced him to give up. Perhaps it had been a self indulgent decision to change the colour from green to blue, the work it had taken not insignificant. It had felt like an homage, a sign of respect. A way for the padawan to remember him, wherever she may wander.

Vader hadn’t executed the order. The Jedi would have maintained the belief that the padawan might have survived, his naivety a luxury Vader could not afford. He knew better. Time had gone by in a flash, and yet it seemed to drag painfully slowly on. The padawan was no Jedi, but it wouldn’t have mattered to the clones. The Jedi would have rushed to find her remains, urgent to locate her final resting place. As Vader gazed solemnly at the snow covered ruins that marked the padawans grave, reaching out one final time with an uncertainty - fearful, perhaps of his master’s ire, perhaps of what he may find - all he could grasp was emptiness. A piercing, sullen nothingness as he stared wordlessly at the sky through the red tinted lenses of his face plate.

When the war is over, The Jedi had thought. The padawan was to go to Mandalore, to capture Maul. He was to go to Coruscant, to rescue the Chancellor. The Sith Lord. Palpatine. Peace, he had fought for. Peace was all he’d ever wanted. Peace, as he left the order behind. Peace, as he and Padmé raised their baby on Naboo, by the lake as she had wished. His old master perhaps visiting, being the brother and father The Jedi had blindly sought approval and praise from. Prosperity. The padawan returned to the life where she belonged.

As snow crystals danced past his vision, the heavy cape he wore following the same silent tune; Vader turned off the saber. Another soft hiss, and he clutched the weapon harshly; feeling the durasteel creak and protest against the might of the mechno that had replaced his dismembered limbs. The padawan was gone, there was no other explanation.

Why had he needed the confirmation to begin with? The Jedi and his past meant nothing to him. The padawan and her sarcastic remarks, her coy expression, her jests and jabs. A hand on his shoulder for support, the way she spoke The Jedi’s name when she was concerned for his well being - a scowl on her face, her lips pursed. Perhaps it was for the best. She would never need to come to terms with the events that had triggered the purge, would never be forced to reevaluate her perception of her master. He would forever remain a beacon of hope, a hero, someone to look up to. The Jedi would remain untainted in her mind, for she was no longer alive to learn the truth.

Vader glanced down at the saber still in his grip, almost fully engulfed by his large, gloved hand. He should leave it were he found it, it was of no use to him. Still, he found himself unable to let the weapon go. Opening his hand; he regarded the thin, jagged dents and scrapes travelling along its once pristine surface. A melancholy swept over him, making his stomach churn and he snarled silently at his own weakness. He was better than this; he was stronger than The Jedi. He would not succumb to sentimentality, would not falter. Where had that left him? Anger simmering just beneath the surface, bitter and infernal; Vader turned his back on the poetic scenery.

Still, as he trudged back the way he had come through the snow - he held in his hand the lightsaber that had once belonged to Ahsoka Tano.

****

I got feels after watching the mastercut of Revenge of the Sith and The Siege of Mandalore remastered into one movie, and I was reminded once again of the painful ending of TCW. Hence, I wanted to write a little fic dedicated to it - also first new fic I write and post since I was banned from my old acc. Anyway, enjoy - if you can call it that!

Ao3 link below:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/27647357

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xbellaxcarolinax · 4 years

Text

Forging A Heart (Ivar the Boneless) 8- Discovery

Pairings: Ivar x Artemis (OFC)

Word Count: 2780

Warnings: None!

7- Obedience

...

Artemis had learned that although snow is beautiful, it can turn into deadly sheets of ice when the temperature dropped low enough. She came to realize that the hard way, slipping along the streets of the city when completing her tasks. She had even fallen once, the sharp jagged edges of the ice cutting a gash above her brow.

It was superficial, but it had bled, much to her annoyance. When she had returned to the cabin with blood leaking down to her chin, Ivar didn't hesitate in laughing, mocking her for being weak. How could one who was born among hot plains become accustomed to an icy hell?

Winter appropriate boots were issued, a tiny delight in an otherwise tasteless life. They were surprisingly of high quality, the interior made of rabbit fur that kept her feet especially warm. Accroding to Ivar, it was no act of kindness. He would just tire of seeing his slave bruised up and bloody from her clumsiness.

More days passed, but the winter seemed endless. Artemis grew accustomed to her new life, though she was still struggling to accept it. In the early days she'd often cry herself to sleep, feeling an overwhelming loneliness suffocate her. Now, her emotions were blurred, and she began to view the world with apathetic eyes.

Sometimes, when she stared off past Kattegat's harbor, she'd imagine herself drifting away on a tiny boat. Her ancestors were masters of the sea, why wouldn't she be able to find her way back home? But it was just a fleeting thought.

She pushed herself to assimilate as Helga had often suggested, acquaintancing herself with other thralls and finding herself with Aria for company. The Irish girl was quite the character and would be considered a woman of loose morals in Christian lands. But she was kind, and had the skills of a homemaker, teaching Artemis mending techniques whenever she had the chance.

So far, life in Kattegat was extremely bland, cold, and uneventful.

The welts on her back healed quickly, scarring minimally with the help of the healer's salve. She supposed she had Ivar to thank for that, though she'd hate to admit it.

Whenever she thought of Ivar, she'd compared him to winter itself. His demenor was frigid, just like icy winds the seeped through the cabin at night. She had no idea what to think of him anymore. Sometimes she feared him, as most did, and other times she felt bad for him, watching him disappear into the mountains to grieve his losses.

Sometimes, she followed him, only to hear his gut wrenching sobs. In normal circumstances, she would've sympathized, but he was far too complex to simply understand his behavior. There were many instances in which he decides to ignore her, while on others he couldn't stop running his mouth, glancing at her with the curious eyes of a child, as if trying to work a puzzle.

That particular night had his curious eyes locked elsewhere, on something of extreme value. Artemis watched Ivar analyze a golden chalice, his ocean eyes admiring the craftsmanship and details of its design.

"What have I done to offend you this time, hmm? If your eyes could, they would kill me," She hadn't realized she was glaring as it was second nature to her now. She was always glaring.

Looking away from his eyes shining in the candle light, she continues to mend his breeches that had laid forgotten on her lap. Ivar was constantly destroying his clothing from dragging his body everywhere, and now she was constantly mending them, a tedious task that she hated.

Ivar sat slumped over his desk, his ale untouched to the side of him. He turned to eye Artemis, who sat by the fireplace, her mending forgotten again. Her skin glowed with the shadows of the fire and her pale eyes shone brighter than anything he'd seen before. The contrast was striking and Ivar couldn't bring himself to look away.

"That cup...it was stolen from the monestary in Crete, " Artemis finally answers quietly, turning to look at the shadows dance across his chiselled face.

"And what does it matter?" Was the boyish reply, "What is so important about this cup that your eyes wish me ill?"

She watches the fire for a moment, the embers hissing as they burn and crackle loudly against the quietness of Ivar's chambers. She wondered if Bjorn had gifted him the chalice. It was to no surprise to her that Ivar had in his possession the very chalice that was to be blessed for holy communion. Was Ivar feared so, that he recieved gifts to keep his anger at bay?

"Skilled hands made that chalice,"

"And what of it?" Not understanding, he sucks his teeth in annoyance. She wasn't a seer to be speaking in riddles. He focused his eyes on her as she laid his breeches on the fur rug, meticulous in sticking the bone needle into the thick fabric.

"I made it, Prince." She replies with equal force, holding out her calloused hands as if to prove her worth.

Ivar looks at her small hands, noting the lack of smooth skin, but it could have been due to her labors since arriving to Kattegat, and so he simply sucked his teeth unimpressed, waving his hand in the air aimlessly to dismiss her statement.

"You jest," He says, fingers gliding over the small pearls embedded perfectly into the gold, "This is fine work. Not even my people have learned to craft such delicate ornaments," Vikings made weapons of destruction, not dainty items to be viewed like a beautiful woman on display. Kattegat had only seen items such as the chalice when his father returned from his first raid in Lindensfarne. Whatever fine items they had, such as jewelry, were mostly traded or stolen from the Baltic lands.

Artemis frowns at his comment.

"My father and I were employed by the abbot. He had commissioned the gold chalice in your hands, as well as all the other gold and silver that was stolen from the monastery,"

"You lie."

"I do not." Ivar's huffs, glancing at the gold again as if he was just seeing it again for the first time. It was impressive work, even he had to admit.

"You can forge silver and gold?"

"I am the daughter of a blacksmith, I can forge any metal I please," The pride could easily be detected in her tone.

"Hmm." There was silence after that.

Artemis turns back to the mending, picking up the bone needle and staring intently at the tears the were left to mend. She couldn't focus on it, pulling the thread around as if she were actually completing the task.

"And that is why you were in the monestary," Ivar breaks the silence again, "To deliver the items." Turning the gold chalice this way and that, he put it to his smiling lips as if testing it. She grunts in reply, moving to work with the tough fabric.

"I suppose you aren't the whore we thought you to be," Ivar smirks, eyes peering at his slave who sat quietly by the hearth. He was half expecting a reaction from her, but instead she remained quiet, closing her eyes tightly and inhaling deeply. She refused to say a word. She wouldn't.

"I'm quite surprised you were allowed such an upbringing," He continues to taunt, "If women aren't allowed to fight, then how could you have learned the trade of men?" She remains quiet still, trying to ignore him as she poked the bone needle into the fabric with difficulty. She would need a lot more practice.

"You may speak freely, Artemis." To this she turns her head, shocked at her name name spilling from his lips so easily. She takes a moment to gather her thoughts before answering.

"I studied alongside my brother. He was to be the true heir, until he passed from plague," Artemis kept her eyes on the threading of the garment, distracting herself from Ivar's gaze, but it didn't help, "Someone had to help with the family business, even if it was a daughter." The memories of her father flashed in her mind, causing those melancholic feelings to resurface.

The man lost a wife, a son, and now a daughter. What did he have left?

Her hands begin to shake, causing her to prick a finger. She hisses, nursing her finger quickly before glancing at Ivar.

Why was he frowning?

"No mother?" He asks.

"She died when I was a girl of the side sickness,"

Ivar remains quiet, only looking at her with eyes that were less menacing and more...sympathetic. It must have been a trick of the fire. The fire makes people see what they want to see, and she had always wished for his gaze to be kinder. It was just a trick.

"I did wonder why you cannot complete the tasks a woman should," He breaks the awkward silence with a snort, "You were raised by men." He then tosses the golden cup towards her.

She catches it easily, watching the metal gleam beautifully with the colors of the roaring fire. Her reflection on it's golden surface revealed her frowning face. Ivar was right, for once. She was not the best cook or seamstress, as those tasks were expected from a woman to complete with efficiency. But her mother had passed when she was young, and Artemis didn't have the guidance that a young girl should from a mother, and there was only so much a father could provide.

"That is true," She begins, "But I can forge metals better than anyone," Well, she couldn't possibly be the best. She was still young, and with age came experience, but she was extremely skillful, and had learned so much already. She casts one last look at the chalice, thinking she'd never see it again.

Ivar eyes twinkled with mirth as a smile stretched across his pale face.

"Oh? Shall I put you to the challenge?" He was grinning now, like a mad man. Artemis ran the pad of her thumb over the rim of the chalice, her chalice, while looking at Ivar from under her lashes.

"What did you have in mind, Prince Ivar?" Ivar didn't hesitate in his answer, leaning forward in his chair as he focused all his attention on his slave.

"I am in need of a new axe, one to aid me in England. Have you ever forged one?"

The axe was the first large piece she had learned to make as it was the weapon of choice for the Emperor's soliders. Artemis hides a snicker behind her fingers, quickly gaining composure at the sudden annoyed knitting of Ivars brows.

"Of course, in the Greek fashion," Ivar hummed in approval, placing his hand under his chin in thought before replying.

"It's settled, report to me in the morning, we shall be paying the blacksmith a visit."

...

Artemis tightened her cloak around her body, hoping to shield herself from the morning chill. It seemed that the early morning and late night winds were always the harshest.

She has passed by Kattegat's blacksmith plenty of times since her duties had doubled, and she would often take a minute or two to peer inside the forge, reminiscing in the sights and sounds that tried to bring her back home. It didnt work, but she relished it, even if for a fleeting moment. But it was different arriving there with Prince Ivar, who dragged his body with gloved leather hands over the snow with determination in his eyes.

"Young Ivar, and company, what can I do for you?"

Artemis had seen this particular blacksmith before, sometimes with an older man. He was a handsome fellow, with long dark hair tied back messily, and with the typical blue eyes of the northerners. He was of strong build, broad shoulders that seemed endless and a height that made him tower over the both of them.

"Arvid," Greeted Ivar, heaving himself up onto a stool by the sharpening stone wheel, "Your father?"

"Out on business with Floki. The boats need stronger nails to support the wood," Arvid quickly answers the crippled prince, "What can I do for the prince of Kattegat?"

"My slave here is from foreign lands. She claims to be a blacksmith. I would like to put her to the test, if you can provide us with the materials needed," Ivar removes the leather from his hands, digging into the folds of his breeches to reveal a golden coin. He tosses it at Arvid who catches it in one hand with ease.

"From Ragnar's hoard?" The blacksmith asks, turning the coin over in between his fingers. It was a foreign coin for sure, but it was still gold.

"It is of no importance'" Ivar growls "Now get us what we need, she will be working on an axe," Arvid nodded, tucking the coin away in a purse before going to the back of the shop to retrieve the items.

Artemis takes in her surroundings quite vividly, as if it would be the last time she would see such a place. Not many candles were lit as the natural daylight illuminated the area just enough to work. The hearth was a familiar sight, and she absentmindedly stepped closer to it, her body shivering as it adjusted from cold to warm. It was all familiar yet so different. Everything was the same and yet nothing made it feel like home.

"Slave!" Avrid called out, "Come and help with the material."

"Her name is Artemis," Ivar shouted back with an grimace as he motioned for Artemis to remove his furs from his shoulders before taking his axe and placing it on the sharpening stone. "Go help the fool," He whispers to her. She bowed her head towards Ivar in respect before making her way towards the blacksmith, who bore the largest of smiles.

"My apologies, Artemis," Arvid had a charming smile, and she was happy to see he had all his teeth intact, "I know you," He says quietly, "You always peer in the shop. I was beginning to think it was to admire me," Arvid belted out a laugh when he saw the pink rise in her cheeks.

"I just wanted to observe your technique. It is different from what I've learned,"

"Right, well, if you say you are a smithy, then I assume you know what these items are," He had laid out on the long table familiar items to her that she had used alongside her father and brother.

"Yes." She says, running her hands over the different tools, before turning to look back at Ivar. He was sharpening his axes but his eyes were glued to the pair, the blue unmoving.

"This would take some time." Artemis says. It would take a few days, a week at most.

"Obviously," Ivar snorts, "We have time, it is not yet spring," Ivar removes the axe from the sharpening stone, testing the edge with his thumb. "We have time, but do not waste it."

"And what of my duties to you and Edda?" She wouldn't make much progress if she were expected to complete her daily duties on top of being in the forgery, it wouldn't work.

"Don't worry about the old hag, she has enough thralls to help her. But you will complete your duties to me come the morning and evening," Ivar said pointedly.

"You may begin."

Artemis flexed her fingers, removing her cloak to which Arvid took and placed away. The blacksmith then placed a small block of steel on the anvil closest to Ivar, handing her a hammer. The fires of the forge seemed to roar as Ivar's and Arvid's expectant eyes watched her for her next move.

It felt like an eternity since she had been able to touch any metals, and her hands missed the transformation of rough surfaces into smooth finishes. She placed a pair of gloves on that lay beside her with no hesitation, grabbing at the long metal tongs to grip the steel. The fire licked at the metal, turning it from its usual dark color, to a beautiful combination of bright red and orange.

Heat started to build up, and sweat began to form on Artemis' brow quickly, her curls already laying damp against her forehead. Pulling the bright yellow metal from the fire, she placed it on the anvil and took a deep breath. Gripping the hammer tightly in her hand, she raises her arm high, bringing it back down with a vicious pound.

And then she smiled.

Now it felt like home.

...

@didiintheblog @heavenly1927

#ivarxofc #ivarfanfiction #ivar imagine #ivar lothbrok #ivar #vikings ivar #vikings #ivar the boneless #alex hogh andersen

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troybeecham · 3 years

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Today the Church remembers St. Alcuin of York, Deacon and Abbot of Tours.

Ora pro nobis.

Alcuin of York (c. 735 – 19 May 804 AD) – also called Ealhwine, Alhwin or Alchoin – was an English scholar, clergyman, poet and teacher from York, Northumbria.

He was born around 735 AD and became the student of Archbishop Ecgbert at York. At the invitation of Charlemagne, he became a leading scholar and teacher at the Carolingian court, where he remained a figure in the 780s and 790s.

Alcuin wrote many theological and dogmatic treatises, as well as a few grammatical works and a number of poems. He was made Abbot of Tours in 796, where he remained until his death. "The most learned man anywhere to be found", according to Einhard's Life of Charlemagne (ca. AD 817-833), he is considered among the most important architects of the Carolingian Renaissance. Among his pupils were many of the dominant intellectuals of the Carolingian era.

Alcuin was born in Northumbria, presumably sometime in the 730s. Virtually nothing is known of his parents, family background, or origin. In common hagiographical fashion, the Vita Alcuini asserts that Alcuin was 'of noble English stock,' and this statement has usually been accepted by scholars. Alcuin's own work only mentions such collateral kinsmen as Wilgils, father of the missionary saint Willibrord; and Beornrad (also spelled Beornred), abbot of Echternach and bishop of Sens. Willibrord, Alcuin and Beornrad were all related by blood.

In his Life of St Willibrord, Alcuin writes that Wilgils, called a paterfamilias, had founded an oratory and church at the mouth of the Humber, which had fallen into Alcuin's possession by inheritance. Because in early Anglo-Latin writing paterfamilias ("head of a family, householder") usually referred to a ceorl, Donald A. Bullough suggests that Alcuin's family was of cierlisc status: i.e., free but subordinate to a noble lord, and that Alcuin and other members of his family rose to prominence through beneficial connections with the aristocracy. If so, Alcuin's origins may lie in the southern part of what was formerly known as Deira.

The young Alcuin came to the cathedral church of York during the golden age of Archbishop Ecgbert and his brother, the Northumbrian King Eadberht. Ecgbert had been a disciple of the Venerable Bede, who urged him to raise York to an archbishopric. King Eadberht and Archbishop Ecgbert oversaw the re-energising and re-organisation of the English church, with an emphasis on reforming the clergy and on the tradition of learning that Bede had begun. Ecgbert was devoted to Alcuin, who thrived under his tutelage.

The York school was renowned as a centre of learning in the liberal arts, literature, and science, as well as in religious matters. It was from here that Alcuin drew inspiration for the school he would lead at the Frankish court. He revived the school with the trivium and quadrivium disciplines, writing a codex on the trivium, while his student Hraban wrote one on the quadrivium.

Alcuin graduated to become a teacher during the 750s. His ascendancy to the headship of the York school, the ancestor of St Peter's School, began after Aelbert became Archbishop of York in 767. Around the same time Alcuin became a deacon in the church. He was never ordained a priest. Though there is no real evidence that he took monastic vows, he lived as if he had.

In 781, King Elfwald sent Alcuin to Rome to petition the Pope for official confirmation of York's status as an archbishopric and to confirm the election of the new archbishop, Eanbald I. On his way home he met Charlemagne (whom he had met once before), this time in the Italian city of Parma.

Alcuin's intellectual curiosity allowed him to be reluctantly persuaded to join Charlemagne's court. He joined an illustrious group of scholars that Charlemagne had gathered around him, the mainsprings of the Carolingian Renaissance: Peter of Pisa, Paulinus of Aquileia, Rado, and Abbot Fulrad. Alcuin would later write that "the Lord was calling me to the service of King Charles."

Alcuin became Master of the Palace School of Charlemagne in Aachen (Urbs Regale) in 782. It had been founded by the king's ancestors as a place for the education of the royal children (mostly in manners and the ways of the court). However, Charlemagne wanted to include the liberal arts and, most importantly, the study of religion. From 782 to 790, Alcuin taught Charlemagne himself, his sons Pepin and Louis, as well as young men sent to be educated at court, and the young clerics attached to the palace chapel. Bringing with him from York his assistants Pyttel, Sigewulf, and Joseph, Alcuin revolutionised the educational standards of the Palace School, introducing Charlemagne to the liberal arts and creating a personalised atmosphere of scholarship and learning, to the extent that the institution came to be known as the 'school of Master Albinus'.

In this role as adviser, he took issue with the emperor's policy of forcing pagans to be baptised on pain of death, arguing, "Faith is a free act of the will, not a forced act. We must appeal to the conscience, not compel it by violence. You can force people to be baptised, but you cannot force them to believe." His arguments seem to have prevailed – Charlemagne abolished the death penalty for paganism in 797.

Charlemagne gathered the best men of every land in his court, and became far more than just the king at the centre. It seems that he made many of these men his closest friends and counsellors. They referred to him as 'David', a reference to the Biblical king David. Alcuin soon found himself on intimate terms with Charlemagne and the other men at court, where pupils and masters were known by affectionate and jesting nicknames. Alcuin himself was known as 'Albinus' or 'Flaccus'. While at Aachen, Alcuin bestowed pet names upon his pupils – derived mainly from Virgil's Eclogues. According to the Encyclopædia Britannica, "He loved Charlemagne and enjoyed the king's esteem, but his letters reveal that his fear of him was as great as his love.

In 790 Alcuin returned from the court of Charlemagne to England, to which he had remained attached. He dwelt there for some time, but Charlemagne then invited him back to help in the fight against the Adoptionist heresy which was at that time making great progress in Toledo, the old capital of the Visigoths and still a major city for the Christians under Islamic rule in Spain. He is believed to have had contacts with Beatus of Liébana, from the Kingdom of Asturias, who fought against Adoptionism. At the Council of Frankfurt in 794, Alcuin upheld the orthodox doctrine against the views expressed by Felix of Urgel, an heresiarch according to the Catholic Encyclopaedia. Having failed during his stay in Northumbria to influence King Æthelred in the conduct of his reign, Alcuin never returned home.

He was back at Charlemagne's court by at least mid-792, writing a series of letters to Æthelred, to Hygbald, Bishop of Lindisfarne, and to Æthelhard, Archbishop of Canterbury in the succeeding months, dealing with the Viking attack on Lindisfarne in July 793. These letters and Alcuin's poem on the subject, De clade Lindisfarnensis monasterii, provide the only significant contemporary account of these events. In his description of the Viking attack, he wrote: "Never before has such terror appeared in Britain. Behold the church of St Cuthbert, splattered with the blood of God's priests, robbed of its ornaments."

In 796 Alcuin was in his sixties. He hoped to be free from court duties and upon the death of Abbot Itherius of Saint Martin at Tours, Charlemagne put Marmoutier Abbey into Alcuin's care, with the understanding that he should be available if the king ever needed his counsel. There he encouraged the work of the monks on the beautiful Carolingian minuscule script, ancestor of modern Roman typefaces.

Alcuin died on 19 May 804 AD, some ten years before the emperor, and was buried at St. Martin's Church under an epitaph that partly read:

Dust, worms, and ashes now ...

Alcuin my name, wisdom I always loved,

Pray, reader, for my soul.

The majority of details on Alcuin's life come from his letters and poems. There are also autobiographical sections in Alcuin's poem on York and in the Vita Alcuini, a Life written for him at Ferrières in the 820s, possibly based in part on the memories of Sigwulf, one of Alcuin's pupils.

Almighty God, in an age when Western Europe was filled with warfare and cultural disarray, you raised up your deacon Alcuin to rekindle the light of learning: Illumine our minds, we pray, that amid the uncertainties and confusions of our own time we may show forth your eternal truth; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever.

Amen.

#christianity #jesus #god #saints #father troy beecham #troy beecham episcopal #father troy beecham episcopal

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