#Shifter Scoundrels

[hannaedits]

Book Review: Notorious (Shifter Scoundrels #1) by Charlie Cochet & Macy Blake

Book Review: Notorious (Shifter Scoundrels #1) by Charlie Cochet & Macy Blake

I’m always willing to give weird genre mash-ups a shot, so this book ending up on my TBR isn’t a surprise. It features a shockingly unexpected opening that sets up the main conflict while also doing a decent bit of worldbuilding, which hooked me pretty much instantly. I also thoroughly enjoyed main characters Caspian and Saphir, along with the diverse supporting cast, which kept me engaged even…

[melaniem54]

Review: Dangerous (Shifter Scoundrels #2) by Charlie Cochet and Macy Blake

Rating: 4.5🌈 Shifter Scoundrels is a wildly imaginative , heave everything the multi era/trope sink has to offer into the adventure/romance world as conjured up by Charlie Cochet and Macy Blake. Part paranormal universe, it also includes such features as a Regency era monarchy, a royal society with the accompanying aristocracy events. To say nothing of the Regency societal laws such as rigid…

[kraken17]

In honor of the late great Raul Julia and your awesome fics, especially Woe & Saint-Clair. A little ficlet for you.

It was a proud dark and dreary day for one Gomez Addams, the day he got a phone call from Nevermore about his darling daughter's ghastly inappropriate behavior.

To say he was worried about Wednesday was an understatement. Months had passed and not a peep from law enforcement about her time at school. No begging letters to remove her from the school from parents of her peers.  He had been expecting at least 3 murder attempts and an arson case by now.

It was deeply unsettling.

No amount of time on the torture rack with his beautiful wife could stop his worry. So much he kept eyeing Puberts silky dark locks to make sure the bouncing blonde curls hadn't made their reappearance. Sadly he and his beloved saber never had the chance to charge into the school grounds to rescue his heir from the clutches of whatever is causing her such..melancholy.

Now entering the office of a rather fetching enraged tall blonde, Gomez couldn't stop the grin on his face.

His little Wednesday Addams, caught “fornacating” on school grounds with another girl. Impaling the teacher who found them with forbidden cursed knives.

A chip of the old Addams block!

He looked to the two figures sitting in front of the desk that now housed one furious shape-shifter,  whilst helping Morticia sit in the spare chair next to Wednesday.

Wednesday sat as regal as ever, every inch  her mothers daughter. Her hastily thrown on uniform however was telling a different story. Black school tie now accidentally replaced with a blue one, buttons hastily buttoned up in the wrong order, blazer missing entirely and various red hickeys standing out gravely against a porcelain throat. Finally Lips that were trying hard to stay in a straight line were swollen and bruised.

Her paramour sitting in a relaxed carefree manor, her arm around the back of Wednesday's chair. Long fingers playing with the stray hairs that had escaped Wednesday's usually immaculate braids. Fingers that were surprisingly still attached to her hand thought Gomez.

The young scoundrel's uniform matching Wednesday's in disarray, but somehow worse. The few buttons she had left on her shirt, only buttoned up enough to not cause her poor principal an aneurysm. Black tie partly hanging out her trousers pocket. Brown hair resembling a bird's nest more than anything else. And a cat that got the canary lazy grin on her blushing face.

Gomez decided at that moment that the Addams family surely had found a new member.

Oh my God… this is absolutely perfect 😍 Thank you so much!

[nrdmssgs]

💕do you do aus for zhar and nik? ever since i learned, what her callsign stands for, i want a supernatural au with them, please! they are cryptids and you cant tell me otherwise! 💕

Lovie, the short answer is: I have not a single idea, how to make a decent AU. I don't understand, how this whole thing works.

However, a few days ago my friends reminded me of this idea, I had a while ago. Consider this one time promotion, but I present you with a shifters!NikxZhar

Summary: they show each other their inhuman forms. This is somewhere between the first and second chapters of Matters, if you need a timeline, so Zhar already has her call sign, works in Chimera and has burn marks. TW: swearing

Masterlist

Shifting is a very intimate moment. It should be kept to the shifter themselves and maybe their closest family. This is the well respected principle among all the shifters, so even in the Task Force they just wrote, what their 'second faces' were on pieces of paper and left those pieces on the desk, so that each of them could read and remember in silence.

Though, of course, Soap couldn't keep his mouth shut.

"Wait, lammer-what? I need to google that thing."

Ghost hissed, gripping Johnny's collar and shaking him vigorously: it was considered inappropriate to comment on others 'second face' - something so personal.

Olga didn't pay any attention - she was happy as long as Nikolai wasn't around, when she had to confess, what exactly she shifts into. Back in that days she didn't trust him even her address. And she couldn't care less for what's his 'second face' was.

That's why now, many years after, she has to guess.

As they walk into the deep forest, both dressed too light for the current weather, as their blood starts running hot in anticipation, she takes a peek at him secretly.

What could this man be?

There are a few factors, that might help to guess shifters 'second face'. First of all - 'second face' would never be a form, originating too far from the place, where the shifter was born. So it is almost impossible to be born for example somewhere around Finland and be shifted into a kangaroo. The next important thing, is that what shifters call 'a second face' is in reality more a second nature - it will affect their preferences in work or their personal traits.

"Any ideas, darling? Wild guesses? If you guess right - I'm the first to show, remember?" Nikolais grin shines in the last rays of dusk and Zhar understands, that her guesses are most likely to be wrong. Otherwise, he wouldn't be so arrogant.

"I need three attempts."

"Take as many as you want, but I'm not that big of a riddle." He stops on the edge of the clearing in the woods and leans against a tall dark pine.

Olga looks around, assessing the place, and turns back to Nikolai. "Ok, my best shot is a magpie or a crow. Someone of the corvidae."

"Because I'm the best pilot, you've ever seen, sokrovishe*?"

"Because you're the smart sneaky scoundrel, willing to steal anything, that is not nailed to the floor... And maybe because of all the flying."

Nik chuckles and shakes his head. "I'm afraid, the sky is my dream in every my form, but never my element. So think bigger."

Zhar tilts her head to the side. "Bigger? A wolf maybe? Statistically speaking, there must be at least one wolf in Prices Task Force and we had none, while I was serving there..."

"O-o-o-oh-h-h-h-h, I adore wolf-shifters. Something in them just makes my heart melt, little lovely puppies... " Nikolai clicks his tongue and leans closer Olga, freezing right above her ear. "But you, little thing, got yourself somebody more... massive, I should say."

"Nik, for fucks sake, I beg you: not a bear," pleads Zhar.

Nikolai looks at her and starts unbuttoning his shirt. Olga opens her mouth, but says nothing and watches him. The moment, that should have become their true bonding, grows so terribly cheesy, that she regrets even agreeing to this all. Not only she has fallen for a Russian guy - she somehow found her self the Russian bear shifter, as if she was aiming for the most cliché man on Earth. Nik breaks the silence with a loud laughter.

"Well, of course, every shifter born in Russia, must be a bear! As if you yourself are the one as well." He tosses his shirt on the bag, they brought with them, cups Zhars face and peppers it with kisses, still laughing. She doesn't react, still looking at him in shock, and he add 'just fucking with you, Nebo, don't you worry'.

"So, I was wrong? Not a bear?"

"No." Nikolai grins and places another kiss, a much longer one on her lips. "Not a bear. But that means, somebody lost and will have to shift first."

His fingers trail down her neck and tug under her sweater. "This will have to go, I guess. Unless I found myself a little mouse-girl..."

Zhar catches his lips: hard to resist him, when her body is boiling with both sides of her nature. Their kiss is full of thirst for each other, hands clutching on clothes, caressing and claiming, their heartbeats grow faster and synchronize. It is much more than a make out session - they open each other up, sharing inhuman warmth, loosing breath in each other. Everything feels much brighter in their state, every touch wakes so much more sensations right now. It feels so good, that Nikolai groans irritated, when Olga break their kiss and whispers 'not here, Nik'.

"Nobody will see you, Nebo. Not a single soul, but me." He tries to bargain for more of her proximity, but Zhar shakes her head.

"You didnt get me. Not here. I need a cliff."

Nikolai freezes. A shadow of concern crosses his gaze. Not every shifter has an equally simple way to change their form. If your 'second face' is a mammal - consider yourself lucky, because you practically can decide, when you shift, because the difference between your two forms is not that big. But in other it takes a great deal of 'motivation' for the shift to happen.

Such shifters often use adrenalin injections to trigger the process, but there are other, more 'traditional' ways.

"You're getting a shot." Nikolai doesn't even ask her - he states a fact. His voice resembles a deep, guttural roar. "This is your first shifting after the injury, I am not letting you do anything careless."

"I've never done this with a shot. Not for a single time! And i'm not starting today." Olga takes off her sweater and unbuckles her belt. They fly to the ground behind Nik. Her usual insecurities and desire to hide her scars are instantly forgotten.

"You are going to get yourself killed!" Nik grabs her arm.

He realizes his mistake too late: shifters get incredibly strong and easily irritated before the change. Zhar yanks her arm out of his grip with such force that she risks dislocating her shoulder joint. He lets her go in fear and she finally turns back.

"You dare to question my 'face'?" Something changes in her voice: it grows raucous, high and strong.

Nikolai takes a step back.

They walk to the cliff in a dead silence. No one breaks it, even when Olga takes off her last bits of clothes.

They stop on a large empty plateau, hanging above the darkening void full of rocks and trees. Zhar stretches her arms and shoulders, when she feels Nikolais hot breath on her back.

"What?" She looks back and meets his gaze: not an angry or menacing, but instead full of care and tenderness.

He walks around her, touches her cheek and kisses her forehead.

"That's all I wanted to let you know, moye Nebo*. I will be right here. Waiting." Niks voice is muffled, if there was any rage in him - he dragged it deep enough to not be shown in any way.

She presses her whole body against his for a moment and sighs. Olga knows, how hard it is for him to let her do, what she is about to do. And yet he strangles his own doubts for her.

Nikolai takes a few steps back, watching her undoing her usual bun. Waves of trembling run down her body, but he knows, that it is not from cold. It is the anticipation.

Zhar closes her eyes, takes a deep breath in and pushes herself ahead from the edge. Her motions are so calm and casual that for a few seconds Nikolai believes that she did not do anything unusual, and throwing herself into a deadly void is not a big deal. And then the chilling realization of what is happening creeps into his soul. His heaven, his beloved girl just jumped off the cliff on his very eyes. He waits for what feels like an eternity, but not a single sound appears in the black seas of tree tops waving on the wind under him. His hands run cold, throat feels dry and soar, heart runs wild. Shifting never takes so much time. Nik stands on the very edge of the plateau and whispers 'come on, come back to me, love, I beg you'.

All of a sudden, a huge black shadow, flies up right before his face so swiftly, that he instinctively covers his face. A magnificent beast of a bird straightenes her wings and lays down on the invisible streams of wind just a few dozens meters above the ground, casting a formidable shadow upon Nik. Cloaked in a tapestry of dusk and dawn, its plumage boasts a palette woven from the shades of twilight - a fusion of russet and amber intermingling with the deep hues of earth and blood.

Nikolai pulls his arm to the side, and calls her to sit on it and give her wings some rest. But she shrieks at him, rising scarlet feathers on her head. Her voice isn't anywhere near soothing bird songs - it is a war cry, a command, that only a fool would dare to disobey. So Nik lowers his hand and nods meekly. In the first minutes after the change, a shifter usually doesn't recognize anyone around. Younger ones need up to a few hours to fully understand, who are they, and what is happening to them.

Nikolai doesn't pressure her into interaction - he just descends to the ground and sits there, letting her circle above him. When she finally lands near him - Nik finally get a chance to see every smallest detail.

It's her eyes, that hypnotize him. They glint like precious gemstones amid the wild expanse, hold a glimmer of some secret knowledge, a silent witness to the untamed symphony of life and death that echo high in the sky.

She leans to the ground, curls up in an unnatural for a bird pose, and Nikolai understands, that she is tired.

"Come here, I'll hold you, my treasure." The bird looks at him attentively for a few long moments and leans her head on his lap.

Shifting back is painful: shivers run through her entire body for a long time after she loses her heathers and bones grow back to a human form. Nik caresses her shoulders and slowly rocks her back and forth to sooth her senses.

When her skin stops running so hot, he wraps her in a blanket they took from home.

"I know, I know: a girl must shift into something sophisticated and pretty. Like a hawk, falcon, or a dove... Not in-"

"You are a work of art. I've never seen anything so majestic. And I've spent quite some time in the skies." Nikolai smiles, looking her in the eyes.

"More majestic than your hellicopter?"

"Just don't tell her." Nikolai winks. "So... a vulture? A magnificent creature. And a fearful one. Dread from the skies."

"Bearded vulture. We look more menacing, than we really are, so don't worry."

"Oh love, you could leave my 'second face' eyeless in a few seconds, if you wanted." At these words of Zhar raises a confused gaze upon him. She wouldn't risk flying low enough to let something 'more massive than a wolf' to catch her.

Nik helps her back into her clothes and carefully kisses her hands, taking in a brief moment of her absolute vulnerability. When she is ready, Nikolai helps her stand and leads her to the nearest tree to lean against.

"You sure, you want to see it today? I can wait as long as you want." He whispers lowly.

"Nikolai, please! I showed you everything, it is only fair-"

"Ok-ok," he chuckles. "Just promise me to be a brave little thing and don't run away. I will be at your feet in any of my forms."

Following him with her gaze, Zhar waits until he disappears far behind the trees and sinks to the ground: the shifting was really hard for her, but she tried to hide it from Nik. Her eyes slowly get used to the dark ambience of the forest, but she notices no movement.

It is only when a few little birds quickly flutter out of the bushes and rush away, Olga finally understands, she is not alone anymore.

The first thing she notices are two eyes, mirroring moonlight. And the height at which these eyes are moving does not bode well for her. He is enormous. His colossal frame emerges from the verdant shadows. A creature of regal splendor, its tawny coat adorned with striking stripes that echoed the forest's secrets.

"Bloody hell..." Her heart skips a beat, and fear courses through her veins. Instinctively, she springs to her feet, pressing her back against the reassuring solidity of the tree. Her pulse quickens, her hand darts to the place, where her holster usually is: a primal response to the raw power embodied in the approaching feline.

The tiger freezes, his giant paw is raised for the next silent step, but remains in the air. He sees, where her hand moved, he undesrtands, what is it, shes seeking. Olga desperately tries to remember, how long ago Nik went away to shift. "10 minutes top. But he's a bloody cat - they need more time to adapt, they are much more wild than us," screams a frightened voice in her head. Before her stands a beast, approximately two hundred kilos of muscles and hunger for blood, and Zhar has nothing to help her escape. She won't even be able to shift once again - she barely stands.

However, to her astonishment, the tiger doesn't bear his teeth or growl menacingly. Instead, he approaches her after the initial pause.

Drawing closer, the tiger halts just a breath away, his golden eyes fixated upon her. But rather than aggression, the tiger displays an unexpected gesture—a subtle tilt of its head, an invitation.

Trepidation mingle with curiosity, and against all instincts, Olga tentatively extends her hand toward the majestic beast, fingers trembling in uncertainty. With tender grace, the tiger nudges his head closer, inviting her touch.

As her fingers brush against the tiger's velvety fur, a thought, not her own, but rather a dictated or a transmitted one, appears somewhere deep in her mind.

"At your feet, love. In any form. Always."

She looks deep into the ferocious predator's eyes and sees the same warmth, she often finds in Nikolais eyes.

Zhar finally gives in to her weariness and sits down, the beast pulls his head closer to her face and sniffs her hair. As gentle as she can, Olga embraces his head and scratches behind his ears. With a rumbling purr akin to a distant thunderstorm, the tiger leans into her touch, seeking more of her attention. Just as Nikolai always does.

sokrovishe - a treasure

nebo - sky/heaven

[pawseds]

Hrodwyn of Groenewellan, sparrow-shifter (Hengeyokai): my brutal scoundrel rogue PC for a 4e Westmarches (with their sparrow form). The only reason I painted this is because I want a nice picture for their token LOL

If there's anything I'm more surprised about than how this turned out a lot better than I expected, it's how the scanned result is SO GOOD and accurate. I haven't touched watercolours since that one time in 2020 and, while I definitely made mistakes I regret, I think this is still pretty good given I don't paint with watercolours. It definitely helps that, apparently, the way I've been painting digitally is basically the watercolour method.

Oh, this was inspired by Pavane by Gabriel Faure too! It kept looping in my head before and while painting this. I think it fits the state of Hrodwyn and their ice-age home planet Hwytvid at the start of the campaign. And here's a sketch/reference page thingy of coming up with their design.

[favescandis]

new interview with Entertainment Weekly: Stellan Skarsgård gave his Andor speech 10 times before he was happy

The Swedish actor opens up joining the Star Wars galaxy and building a revolution as Luthen Rael

By Devan Coggan June 15, 2023 at 10:00 AM EDT

Star Wars has always dealt in archetypes — the wizened mentor, the scoundrel with a heart of gold, the wide-eyed farm boy destined for greatness. But Andor introduces a far more complex character, one unlike any we've ever seen before.

Stellan Skarsgård plays Luthen Rael, a hardened freedom fighter and early architect of the Rebel Alliance. When the series begins, Cassian Andor (Diego Luna) is still taking his first steps toward revolution. But Luthen has already spent years in the trenches, abandoning all personal attachments to try and kickstart the fight against the Empire. On Coruscant, he poses as a wealthy antiques dealer, donning a wig and peddling trinkets to the upper class — but he's secretly building a revolution, recruiting allies around the galaxy.

Star Wars has long positioned the Rebel Alliance as the good guys, the knights in shining armor determined to fight the Empire's fascism and cruelty. But Luthen is proof that revolution is rarely so black and white: He's willing to sacrifice anything — and anyone — to destroy the Empire.

The 72-year-old Skarsgård is no stranger to massive, otherworldly franchises, starring in Marvel's Thor movies and playing the villainous Baron Harkonnen in Dune. But the Swedish actor shines as Luthen, and he's since earned Emmy buzz for his weary yet determined performance. He plays Luthen with a single-minded intensity that's usually reserved for Star Wars villains, and he delivers Andor's most moving speech, explaining how he's burned his life to make a sunrise he knows he'll never see.

In an exclusive interview, Skarsgård spoke to EW's Dagobah Dispatch podcast about joining a galaxy far, far away. Here, he opens up about how he approached the morally complex Luthen — from that "tense" monologue to the joys of wearing wigs.

ENTERTAINMENT WEEKLY: Take me back to the beginning. How was this character pitched to you?

STELLAN SKARSGÅRD: Tony Gilroy pitched it to me. He himself was a very great reason for me to take it. He pitched it and said he was going to make a story that is more real than the others. I know him and his writing, and every scene has an urgency to it. Every scene has a great tension to it. I got to read the first three or four episodes, so it was not a big question. And I said yes.

Luthen is a fascinating character. He's so driven and committed to the Rebel cause, at the expense of everything else in his life. What was it about him that you found interesting?

As an actor, it's interesting to play this guy who lives a double life and to make two different characters out of one. That was interesting for me, but he's interesting as well because he is extreme. He's like Che Guevara or the Rote Armee Fraktion in Germany or any terrorists, really. But also, as a revolutionary, he is like George Washington. So, he's got all those ingredients that make him very exciting. He has this conflict between doing the right thing and also being able to kill for the right thing.

You talked about how he lives this double life, and he really is a shape-shifter. We see him put on his wig, and he can suddenly become the shopkeeper from Coruscant. What interested you about the way he literally transforms?

Well, it was very funny. It's a great thing for an actor to do, to be able to play two characters at the same time. But I also love wigs! [Laughs] I think it's fantastic to put a wig on and be someone else.

One of my favorite moments in the season is that speech that Luthen gives, where he talks about why he does what he does. There's that incredible line about burning his life to make a sunrise he'll never see. What do you remember most from filming that scene?

I mean, of course I knew I had a speech that was very well written, and it was probably one of the best scenes in the season. And I worked on it. When we shot it, somehow I was tense. I think I said, "Let's go again, let's go again." I think I did it 10 times in a row, very fast, right on top of each other. 10 times, like "Go, go, go." And then it was good. Then, I was satisfied, and the director was satisfied.

Oh wow. It really is this intense moment.

Yeah, it was very intense.

I've spoken to Tony Gilroy and some of the cast, and they've all talked about the production design on Andor and how big the sets are. What was it like for you to walk around those sets and be in the Star Wars universe like that?

Well, I was very happy to be in that kind of Star Wars universe and not like in many films, where you're just in the world of green screens. Because it affects you physically when you have the set. You can't deny that. It was the same thing with the sets on Dune. They are physically there, these enormous sets, and you feel it in your body. You move differently. We had all of Ferrix built up as this city. It's very exciting.

Was there a day on set where you really felt like, "Oh my gosh, I'm in Star Wars?"

No, but I was happy that I had my own spaceship. I've lacked that in my career so far.

What's that like to get to pilot a spaceship? What's it like behind the controls?

[Laughs] You're like 10 years old when you sit down behind the controls. You become serious, and you turn the wheel and push the buttons and stuff. You become very silly, but it's very fun.

Tell me a little bit about working with Diego Luna on this. There are some really beautiful, intense scenes between the two of you.

He was also a reason for me to take the job. We met several years ago. We were supposed to do a film about football, but it didn't happen — not with us. It sort of broke down. So I've been waiting for him to do a film with me again. And I love the fellow. He's a true actor, and he's a true man.

I also love the scenes with you and Genevieve O'Reilly, where Mon Mothma comes to Luthen's shop. What do you remember most about filming those scenes with her?

I'm playing the Coruscant character there, which is much more flamboyant. But the first scene she entered, she came with this great limousine she has, flying in. She was much more sexy and beautiful, and she took over the space much more than I realized than she had ever done in the films. And then, of course, she has a great humor, so we had a lot of fun doing that.

There's a lot of really great actors that I met all the time there. It's so well cast. I had a lot of fun.

I know season 2 is in the works. How's that been going?

That's going great. I mean, Tony Gilroy has gone on strike, as of the first of May. He finished the scripts right on the day, and then he shut off the phone and disappeared into a picket line somewhere. So, we'll see. He claims that the [series] is director-proof and actor-proof, which means that it can't be destroyed. [Laughs] We'll see if it works.

Well, I can't wait to see what you guys have up your sleeves and where this story goes.

It'll be lovely. But I can't tell you, I'm afraid! [Laughs]

For more from Skarsgård, as well as exclusive interviews with Tony Gilroy, Diego Luna, and more, listen to EW's Star Wars podcast, Dagobah Dispatch.

[thissharktypes]

Through The Ages - 1

//check out my page for this chapters aesthetic concept board!//

1748 - Klaus

Vapid, Shallow, Vile, Beastly creatures. Swirling colors, heavy makeup, air thick with perfume. His eyes scan over the women gossiping in corners, not so subtly pointing out people and tittering behind their fans. He fidgets, adjusting the porcelain mask on his face, annoyed by the weight, just wanting to go home. Sipping from a sparkling glass he continues watching the mundane things humans fixate themselves on. “Nay! I jest, thou are truly a scoundrel!” The man's attention shifts to a group of younger men, too rowdy and crass for his liking. “Her bosom doth remind me of the finest cream.” they chortle and the man sighs, feeling sorry for the woman that caught their loathsome, so-called affections. He continues sipping the champagne, wishing it would render him completely fuddled, but sadly he wouldn’t feel the bliss of drunkenness anytime soon. 

Again, the crude group pulls him back to their conversation, “I have heard that the maiden has never been touched.” one of the men shrugs, his disgustingly oversized cravat shifts out of his shirt “As all good gentlewomen should be, untainted, pure.” The original man, wearing a deep blue jacket, shakes his head, “Nay Edwards, I heard the mardle, they say she has never been touched in any sense of the word, Clean in name and body.” the group erupts in laughter, the man with the messy cravat, Edward, doubles over, practically wheezing before shifting upright “Thou be an absolute shifter Robert!” he claps his hand on the man's shoulder “You’d have to be dizzy to believe such nonsense spewed from the mouths of these harlots.” another man chimes in “Ay! In mine own home I heard my sisters speak to my mother about the woman,” he fidgets under the scrutiny of the group “They say the maidens father doth not allow his daughter's skin to touch the air, never having been kissed by the sun.” This has the masked man fully turning his head toward the group. Another like us? His siblings will want to hear about the information he had stolen from these calf lollies. 

He slips away, leaving the men to their speculations. Slipping through the crowd he spots one of his kin “Brother,” the shorter man tilts his head to glance at the masked man “Ay? What doth thou want, here to spoil my practices?” a sigh comes from behind the mask “I have heard that there may be another of us here, one that cannot walk where we do.” The shorter male taps his finger against the table “I’ll pass the information on to our siblings if I see them, but for now, I believe I have found someone to dine with tonight, go on your way Niklaus.” 

Frustrated, the man stalks outside, needing to get away from the noise, the smells, everyone of his senses being assaulted. Breathing deeply, cherishing the soft scent of freshly blooming rose buds, he feels himself calming. His feet carry him swiftly down the steps, further away from the crowd. Following a small stone path it leads him to a thick hedge maze, roses, foxglove and lavender decorating the grass. He walks deeper, trailing his fingers through the foliage, a scent filtering through the leaves, ever so faintly. As he continues through the maze the aroma gets stronger, a sharp scent of vanilla and cloves. How wonderful. Niklaus smiles, following it, like a child after candy. He breaks through the last turn, his gaze sweeping across a large circular enclosure in what he presumed to be the center of the maze. 

A fountain bubbles quietly and a few chairs and benches dot around the spacious area. Humming can be heard from the other side of the stone water fountain, curiosity pulls him towards the noise, seeing a small frame of a woman come into view. She sways back and forth, trance-like in her musical state. Soft blue fabric cascades down her waist in ruffles and waves, pooling around her feet, delicate strips of lace wrap around her sleeves and collar, pearls studded along the bodice and a sheer veil pulled over her head drapes down the woman's back. Her noises stop, body slowly turning towards the man “Hello.”. Good lord, her voice, like an angel's kiss, a morning doves song, a ray of sunshine. Klaus tips his head at her, taking a few steps closer “Are you here for my party?” she asks, her head tilting back to look up at the stars “I was not aware it was your party.” he circles the woman “Nobody does,” she spins slowly holding her dress up to not step on it “Papa lets me pick everything out,” she closes her eyes and smiles “I am not allowed to attend though.” Klaus raises his eyebrow “How peculiar.” she doesn’t respond and continues spinning quietly “I wish to dance with them one day. I wear my prettiest dresses each time.” she raises her arms as if to grasp an invisible person and begins to waltz by herself “Why doth thou father not permit you to attend?” Klaus asks, intrigued by the woman “He says it is too dangerous for me,” she pauses her movements and faces him “I have a sickness,” she holds her hands up and Klaus watches the tremors run up and down her arms, her fingers twitching “I am weakened, many physics have seen me, none with answers.” her shoulders droop, the gentle shaking takes over her body and she lowers herself to the ground. Klaus takes a seat on the bench beside her “If it is of any consolation, you look exquisite.” she gives him a bright smile “I believe so too! This is my favorite gown, the fabric,” she sighs as she trails her fingers along the lines of her dress “Papa said that it is from Vienna.”.

They sit in silence for a beat, Klaus just watching the strange woman and her odd mannerisms. She really did seem to be in a completely different world. “Are you the one everyone speaks of? The one that does not touch the sun?” he breaks the quiet, making her jump as if she had forgotten his presence “Most likely,” her head moves in the direction of the ball “they like to talk about me, sometimes I hear them from my room, the maids will also tell me the things they hear.” she looks slightly dazed “Some truth in their rumors, my skin,” she swallows “It burns in the sunlight, painful, like knives.” she whimpers as she rubs her arms “Poor child, a fate of pain and suffering.” Klaus doesn’t understand why his heart clenches for this sad thing. Her face changes and she stands “I must go, Papa is looking for me.” she’s gone before he can even ask her name, leaving behind her sweet scent.

[bravewolfvesperia]

@ourvoids | planned starter for Historia

He wasn't impressed.

He wasn't one to brag about his skill, but he wasn't going to deny it either. The fact that they had taken him, albeit temporarily, off his Garrison duties to be a bodyguard for the queen was more irritating than it was some kind of "honor". Not only did the idea alone make him restless, but the Garrison was hurting for soldiers lately. From the looks of things too, the Scouts were also hurting - enough that they would probably need more soldiers soon, and there was no way said soldiers would be coming from the Military Police.

It did make sense not to take someone from the 104th - someone who knew Historia well - after they'd found out five titan shifters came from Historia's old group. People were probably suspicious of all of them now. Even if the Scouts had cleared their name, it was probably difficult for many to grasp just how many titan shifters went unnoticed in the same group for as long as they had.

And of course, most of the Military Police weren't exactly good fighters. They couldn't risk taking any of the Scouts, who were already worse for wear and still had to actually embark on the mission to the basement. Their choices really were just the Garrison. But even then, did she need protecting? Aside from the fact that she had taken down the giant abnormal titan and could clearly fight, was it actually still possible for there to be more sleeper agent titan shifters that might want to target her? When she was this far in the walls' interior?

Granted, they did seem to need her to make use of Eren's titan abilities, but if they came after her and attacked like they meant it, what was one bodyguard going to do when surrounded by Military Police who could hardly handle their day to day loitering, forget combat? Not all of them were terrible at policing - Nile seemed to have his head on straight now, Marlo wanted to fix the corruption (which Yuri agreed with and respected, but the Military Police was no place for him), Flynn could actually fight and issue orders in emergencies - but if someone attacked and really went for it, how many combat ready people would be accessible and prepared at a moment's notice? One.

The worst part? He was here for an "indefinite and uncertain amount of time". In the innermost wall, with the snobbiest scoundrels. Damn did he miss Wall Maria.

"Sorry about this. I really don't think you need a bodyguard, but they're really going at it pressing me about it. Sounds like Premier Zachary was talked into it too, and the last thing I need is the law on my ass for disobeying orders."

[comatosebunny09]

forget me not

genre: angst, modern au

warnings: mentions of a toxic relationship, heartbreak, pining, crimelord!kyo, female!reader

music: adieu - emily bindiger / clair de lune - claude debussy

You had called him after the sun took refuge behind the mountains. 

When the sky was violet, and stars spilled across it like paint. 

Swaddled in the blue light of his cell and the gentle murmur of his engine, Kyojuro reached for the driver-side handle and threw the door open. The wind was fearsome, ruffling his hair and threatening to knock him off his feet. 

But the sound of your voice breaking through the staticky speaker kept him tethered to Earth.

He nearly dropped his phone when he slid into the leather seat, fumbling to connect you to the Bluetooth. Wild-eyed and swallowing thickly, his nerves solar flares beneath his skin.

“Hey,” you said. 

Light as silk, a simple greeting filled his spacious convertible and his head with vertigo. There was apprehension swimming beneath the soprano of your tone. A slight waver. A shaky sigh as if the world’s weight was on your shoulders. 

“Hey,” he parroted, masking the tremor of his own voice.

Sat up, spine painfully stiff. Never gripped the shifter tighter. The fine hairs littering his body stood at attention. He found himself straining every molecule inside to hear you again.

To feel you again.

It had been months, after all. Since he last heard from you. Saw you. He never thought he would again, having fled the city to let you reassemble the jagged shards of your heart.

Alone.

Said it was best because he was destroying you. Stripping you down to the marrow, bleeding you dry. A good girl like you didn’t deserve to be dragged down by a scoundrel like him. You deserved happiness. Freedom. Stability.

Kyojuro watched the dam keeping your emotions at bay splinter, tears pouring in rivulets down your cheeks. He could still hear your shrill cries for him to stay. You clung to his sleeve. Pounded tiny fists against his chest. He watched emotions fleet across your face like torn film reels, all passive and tight-lipped. He had to be. It was the only way to make this breakup clean. 

Sand filled his throat, and his heart sank into the empty chasm of his stomach as he left.

Forever.

Or so he thought.

He couldn’t understand; why he clung to every minute sound—every burst of static, every heave of breath. Strangled the leather of his steering wheel, and his foot hovered over the pedal. 

Say the word. Just say it. Just—

“I… didn’t know who else to call.” 

Your voice popped and fizzed like a bonfire, cutting through the dissonance of his mind. He could taste the brine of tears welling up beneath your lashes. Could sense you receding into yourself, rubbing your arms to ward off the cold. Pictured you with your back against a wall, fighting against the quake of your shoulders and biting your lips to keep from whimpering.

The thought made the warmth of fondness wade over him. He couldn’t help the quirk of his lips as he leaned back against the seat. You were always such a crybaby. His crybaby.

Somehow, the notion was comforting. Knowing that you needed him. That he was at the forefront of your mind after all this time. Sure, a part of him felt sick. Deplorable. Hollow. But he couldn’t ignore how his body tingled.

Assuredness drenched his timbre as he asked, 

“Where are you?”

The ping in his notifications was instantaneous. As was the airiness that inhabited your voice as you breathed a

“Thank you.”

Kyojuro nodded to no one, your pin drop flooding the dash screen, a melancholy smile rounding his lips. He peeled out of the parking lot without thinking, the roar of his motor mirroring the wild flutter of his heart.

[wyvernwriterarchive]

CLASSES!!! YAY

Class Types

⚔️Infantry: A simple foot soldier. Nothing positive or negative about them, but they make up a large majority of any good army and typically specialize in physical weapons.

☘️Covert: Lighter infantry like archers and thieves who can quickly traverse terrain and weaken enemies with their attacks. They are slightly weaker but have better evasion and utility.

🐎Cavalry: Fighters who ride a mount on the ground, like cavaliers or rangers. High mobility, but usually crippled by rough terrain. To make up for their incredible maneuverability, they often have lower stats.

🛡️Armored: Units within heavy, powerful armor like knights. Lower speed and mobility are usually bad at taking magic attacks usually. But they are incredibly durable walls and have great strength and defense. Plus, they defend allies around them.

🦅Flying: An airborne soldier who takes to the skies.High mobility and ignores terrain penalties, but usually low defense. They also can not gain the benefits of most terrain bonuses.

🔮Spellcaster: A unit that can cast spells with ease, melting through enemies with lower resistance. They suffer in the defensive department, though.

🦁Shifter: A unit that can shift into a beast periodically. They are weaker in their human form, but in their beast form, they are incredibly powerful.In DToL, shifters are split into Beasts(physical) and Monsters(magical)

Mercenary ⚔️

A sellsword who handles tough jobs for coins with their raw power and skill with a sword. Balanced and powerful physical stats, with especially good strength and skill.

Fencer⚔️

A nimble myrmidon of the blade. With a dash of flair and charm, they are known for swiftly parrying and retaliating against those who stand against them. High speed and skill, but lower defenses.

Thief 🍀

Swift pickpockets who would rather take your gold and items than your life. They are fast and have great utility, such as being able to take valuables, but their lower physical stats will prove to be somewhat of an issue.

Soldier⚔️

An armored fighter with a sturdy spear, making up the bulk of any good army. Fierce and loyal to a cause, they face off against enemies with steady, precise strikes, and well rounded combat. They specialized in durability and accuracy.

Knight🛡

Heavily armored warriors who sacrifice mobility for power and protection. Rather slow, but incredibly strong and tough

Militia ⚔️

A budding commoner who has taken up the fight to defend themselves. Has great potential written all over them, even if they start out rather underwhelming.

Fighter

Strong and vigorous combatants who wield the humble, yet mighty axe. They rend through enemy defenses with balanced strength, skill, and vitality, but lower defenses.

Brigand☘️

Rugged and rampant scoundrels who choose a wild fighting style in order to survive in the harsh outlands, spreading fear as they go. They boast power but lower accuracy.

Pirate⚔️

With a song of freedom and an odd yet brutal fighting style, these seafarers often spread horror on the coastal areas of the world. Great speed and luck, but low defenses.

[the-book-queen]

Hide your wallets, it's that time again! Your daily thread of romance deals is ready, FREE to $2.99!

FREE ✦ Body Shot by Kelly Jamieson

1st POV. He's a former Navy SEAL who opened a bar with his friends. She's a professor. It was only meant to be a hookup.

Contemporary Romance (MF) | https://amzn.to/3OD9vUP

FREE ✦ An Unexpected Gentleman by Alissa Johnson

She needs to obtain an offer of marriage from the respectable Baron, but a charming scoundrel ruins her plans by kissing her in broad daylight in front of the ton.

Historical Romance (MF) | https://amzn.to/4bETAzA

$1.99 ✦ Silver Chimera by Zoe Chant

Both MCs are in their 50s. Single mom + chimera shifter.

KU Title

Paranormal Romance (MF) | https://amzn.to/3SUnjNk

$2.49 ✦ The Good Guy Challenge by Lauren Blakely

1st POV. She always had a crush on him growing up, now he's a pro football star. Fake dating.

KU Title

Contemporary Romance (MF) | https://amzn.to/3uuBe3r

$2.99 ✦ How to Catch a Duke by Grace Burrowes

Needing to disappear from her enemies, she seeks out the Duke and asks him to fake kill her. Instead he offers up a fake marriage to protect her.

Historical Romance (MF) | https://amzn.to/3OMCJRl

Putting these lists together takes time. If you appreciate this content, please consider buying me a Ko-Fi. http://ko-fi.com/danielletbq

[theroseempress]

*swiftly locates your home and slingshots myself through your own vent*

Shifter and precognition from the tag game!

*locates your window and yeets self from it*

*gasps over-dramatically* my window! you scoundrel

🐁Shifter: If your OC could be any animal what would they pick? What do you think they would be?

I don't know what they'd pick themselves, but fun fact, I actually have an AU of TGC* where some characters can turn into animals, and both Felix and Shannon shift into cats. Felix is very cat-coded in my opinion. Helen gives me bird vibes, probably some kind of corvid, and Valentin would probably be some kind of large dog. Shannon would probably either be a cat or some kind of raptor, I think.

🔮Precognition: If your OC could get a glimpse of what was to come, would they want to know? Would it do them any good?

Hm. Well, Felix would definitely get a glimpse of what to come at TGC's beginning, in his opinion it would be incredibly foolish to not have the advantage. Helen would probably also want to know.

Valentin wouldn't, he'd rather just see things as they come, and Shannon would probably be too worried of somehow creating a paradox or something to take it.

As to whether it would do them any good... for Felix, I severely doubt it. He'd probably avoid the problem he saw but create like five more in the process because he hasn't had his Character Development yet. I do think it'd help Helen, though, at least to some degree. Maybe it'd depend on what she glimpsed.

Thanks for the ask, that was fun!

(*yes, I have an AU of my own story. I'm just Like That™)

[melaniem54]

Review: Notorious (Shifter Scoundrels #1) by Macy Blake and Charlie Cochet

Review: Notorious (Shifter Scoundrels #1) by Macy Blake and Charlie Cochet

Rating: 4.5🌈 Cochet and Blake start a new paranormal series with Notorious, a story that combines shifters, Regency romance, political intrigue, murder, and a series arc mysteries. That’s a lot to handle but it works somehow. Even with a universe ,who’s foundation that needs more weight in terms of solid information and history , the current Shifter Monarchy is intriguing, with its modern…

[twochicksobsessed]

Notorious (Shifter Scoundrels Book 1) by Charlie Cochet and Macy Blake: Release Day Review

Notorious (Shifter Scoundrels Book 1) by @CharlieCochet and Macy Blake: #ReleaseDay #BookReview #lgbtq #mmromance #gayromance #shifters #paranormal #HEA #KU #4.5stars

.                              . Caspian Drake knows what it takes to get ahead in modern-day shifter society. He is an Earl, after all, and known for his wit, style, and ability to charm the pants off of anyone he chooses. Getting his best friend Brandr, the Prince of the Dragons, in and out of trouble is only one of his many talents. When a horrible attack shakes Cas’s world, he’s forced to…

[pawseds]

Oh look, it's HRODWYN! This brutal scoundrel rogue, sparrow hengeyokai (animal shifter basically) was my PC for a D&D4e Westmarches game. They hail from the ice age planet Hwytvid (White Void) that's in a solar system with 4 other planets, and all of them struggled against the same threat of 'Stellaron', the Cancer of Worlds (it's literally radioactive waste that mutates things and can also kill things).

Since scadanfolc (shifters, hengeyokai) are discriminated against due to being 'unreliable' (shifty, even), Hrodwyn and their flock spend their days constantly on the move, migrating and chasing after the sun's little warmth, far away from kin (humans and their subspecies).

They're very naive in anything with human cultures and socialisation, talk a bit strange because they've only ever talked to other sparrows, and see things quite plainly. So, they have a knack for stating their blunt observations very honestly, but Hrodwyn truly only ever means well, often giving advice (even as a wingman where one of their best friends got married with their help lets GO) and overworking themselves to help out their community (eldest child syndrome, etc).

Watch out for their potty mouth, though. They don't hold back with that, either!

[sp00kworm]

Claw Tracks

Pairing: Berold (Werebear/Bear Shifter) x Gender Neutral Reader

Warnings: Violence, Bodyhorror. 

---

---

“Disgusting vermin!”

“Thief!”

“Scoundrel!”

The words had hurt but the rocks hurt more as they were hurled at the back of your head. One had caught you at the base of your skull and you could still feel the burning pain down into your neck as you shivered in the snow. The storm was in full swing now, and the icy wind burned your face and fingertips as you waded through the snow drifts along the side of the mountain. It hurt. You felt your arms starting to go numb and you hadn’t been able to feel your feet or hands for a long time. The cloak wrapped around you was tattered and worn. It had been years since you had had a new one, and this one was thread bare. It was the only thing you could grab before the townspeople had driven you out with pitchforks and fire. Your home was still smouldering in the distance. They’d called you a witch. A witch for what, you had asked, before they set the torches to your cabin. Nothing.

“Damn that stupid baker’s boy.” You cursed through chattering teeth as spots began to swim in your vision.

 The cold was blistering. You stopped again to try and tug your cloak tighter, cursing the wind, ice, snow and cold, and especially the Baker’s son. You had refused him one too many times. Proposal after proposal turned down. Now you were a witch to the entire town. The bell tolled below, signalling mass. It seemed ironic that they burned your home and almost killed you but were heading to mass like it was any other day. Suddenly, cursing anymore was exhausting, and you felt your legs finally go numb, the cold and trudging through the snow taking its toll. Suddenly your legs jittered, shaking violently before they sent you face first into the snow drift. The cold ached. You felt the burning in your joints and bones, deep into your core as you struggled with your hands deep in the snow drift. Your fingers wiggled in the snow but made no headway in getting you back upright. Snow pounded against your eyes, crystalising in your eyelashes as it melted and froze once again with the freezing wind. Agony. You were in agony. A sob wretched from your throat as the pain overwhelmed you and breathing became hard around your sobs and shivering.

 “I’m… going to die here…” You sobbed brokenly as the snow started to cover your thighs, burying you in the snow drift slowly. Black was seeping into the corners of your vision again and the cold was slowly becoming a numb sensation against your face. That was, until, a snort and a guttural growl rumbled over the drift. It was winter. Animals were hibernating. The only thing that should be alive and moving on the mountain was the reindeer that lived along a long, icy migration route. You wobbled as you clawed at the snow, peering over the ridge with a strained cry of burning pain through your body. A bear. A great, black cave bear stood in the drift in front of you, its nose lowered to your face, sniffing and huffing at your hair. The hot breath blew over your face before the wet end of its nose was pressed firmly into your hair. Dangerous teeth snapped in front of your face as the bear pulled away, strings of spit dripping from its jowls. It drew back enough for you to see its black eyes blown wide, staring at you through the left one. The other eye was cloudy, white and scarred. The bear grumbled again, watching you with one giant eye as you reached towards its muzzle. Your freezing cold fingers brushed the gnarled fur around its mouth, dipping into the thick, heavier fur around the bear’s ears.

 You collapsed into the snow. The burning cold met your face as you keeled over into the deep snow drift. Heavy breaths snuffled over your neck as blackness overtook you. A rumble sounded from the bear.

“Don’t…eat…me.”

 Warmth. There was something warm against your body. You felt a heavy weight over your back, stomach and legs. That was warm too. It was very warm. Cozy almost. Suddenly, drifting back to sleep seemed like the best idea.

“Best not to go back to sleep.” Someone rumbled from next to you, “You’ve taken two days to come ‘round as it is. I suggest you open your eyes.” It was harsh, a deep voice that carried an immediate pang of authority.

Sleepily, you dared to open your eyes and were met with a goliath of a man. His eyes were so dark they were almost black, but one was clouded with blindness, and his hair matched that, but was ladened with grey, like a salt and pepper waterfall down his back. The hair almost blended into the beard on his face and the hair over his chest and down his stomach. He snorted and blew hair from his eyes as he loomed over you, bare chested and only clothed in a thin pair of linen bottoms.

“Aren’t you cold…” You shivered, mumbling the words as your fingers finally came back to life beneath the thick, stitched fur quilt. Inside you were tucked in with several layers of blankets.

The man snorted before leaning over you to place another log onto the roaring flames. The fire was quick to start consuming the wood and you realised then that’s why you were so warm.

 “I’m not cold.” He grunted at you, “I have thick…” He looked at himself and then shrugged, “I don’t feel it like others.”

With a sleepy blink you looked from the flames to the man’s hardened face. He was older than you initially thought, but age did not make him any less large and well built, aside from the fat around his tummy, over the heavy set muscles of his form. He was infinitely tall, towering over you, standing at well over six and a half feet. A giant.

“You’re…a giant.” You cooed from the floor, eyelids drooping with tiredness.

“Something like that.” He tutted at your drooping eyelids, “Now. Eat. Drink. Then you can sleep.”

A cup was thrust at you before the man helped you sit up, his arm lifting you before he cupped your head and poured small sips of water into your mouth. You swallowed slowly, before realising how parched you were and drinking greater gulps.

“Slowly. You’ll be sick.” The man complained before he pulled the water away and started to feed you bits of gravy stewed meat. It was thick but delicious. Between your chewing he ate pieces of bread and stew before offering you more. Eventually you both cleaned out a bowl, and he went for seconds, slurping the mixture down before moving onto a great bunch of red, ripe winter berries, pushing the popping fruit between his lips by the handful.

 Tiredness set into your bones and you looked at the man as he shovelled another mouthful of berries into his mouth and chewed slowly.

“What are you starting at, human?” He grunted.

“What happened to that bear?” You asked quietly as you closed your eyes.

The man was quiet for a few moments before he answered, “We are one in the same.” He fluffed the pillow gently before sitting you up, “Come. You need to relieve yourself or you’ll get another kind of issue.” He eased you to your feet and helped you to relieve yourself before quietly tucking you back into the heated furs, “Now sleep. I will wake you again.” He promised as he settled himself in a wooden rocking chair next to you. You fell asleep just as he finished his sentence.

 Warmth woke you up again but this time you felt much more coherent. Drowsily you looked at the fire, still roaring in the hearth, and wondered what time it was as you pushed the blanket away from your legs and felt the urge to relieve yourself burn in your gut. With a huff you dared to stand on your own, wobbling back and forth before collapsing back into the furs with a grunt. The furs rumbled. With a gasp you squeezed the fur underneath your hands and were met with the thick, hot fat of a giant sleeping bear, curled around your mattress and blankets on the floor. It grumbled a deep, threatening growl before opening one black eye. Your hands were pushed against a thick, puckered scar in its fur and you recoiled with a soft gasp as it opened its mouth to yawn, revealing sharp teeth. The front right canine was cracked. With a fumble, you tried to crawl away over the furs. A giant paw slapped on top of your back, pinning you in place before the bear dragged you back towards its face. Its blind eye made you quiver but the nose that pressed to you made you squirm. It snuffled before tucking you under its arm and laying its giant head back down with a grunt before it dragged your furs closer again.

 “Hey, hey…No. I need to pee.” You groaned under the weight of the bear’s paw, trapped in the warm, thick fur.

The bear snorted before releasing you and bedding itself back against the floor, laid on its side. It ignored you as you stood up and took a deep, long breath as it drifted back off to sleep.

“One in the same huh…” You whispered as the bear slept soundly by your bed, its head rested on one of your pillows. You made a quick exit towards the back of the cabin and thieved Berold’s boots and giant fur coat before you headed to the small shed to relieve yourself. Your legs shook as you got back into the warmth, locking the door with a clunk as you headed back towards the nest in front of the fire. The bear was still asleep and you looked at the fur and then the scar over the eye.

“Berold the bear shifter, huh.” You looked at the bear as you warmed your face and hands by the fire, throwing another log into the flames to keep it alight, “Hibernating are you.”

The bear opened his good eye before growling lowly.

“Listening too.” You hummed, tucking yourself in with a fur before you looked back at the animal you assumed to be your saviour, “Thank you, then. For everything. I wouldn’t be alive otherwise.”

The bear eyed you before loping to its feet and shouldering its way into the other room.

 The sound of bones cracking and a man screaming sounded, and you rushed to your feet to see the last moment as Berold’s face cracked and snapped back into place, from muzzle to flat and human. You gasped as he heaved on the floor, catching his breath before he dared to stand up on his legs, wobbling back and forth before he looked at you through his one good eye and gestured to himself.

“The coat.” He grunted.

With a rush of embarrassment, you grabbed the fur coat and threw it to him before turning around. Berold covered himself quickly before tapping you when he was decent.

“You don’t have to thank me.” He said simply before he walked past you.

“Wait a minute!” You rushed after him, still shaking and weak from the brush with death, “Of course I do! You saved my life and…”

Berold held a finger to your lips, “Save your breath. Eat well, rest, and I will help you back to the village.”

 The village. You’d almost forgotten about the villagers. You eased your hand up the back of your neck and touched the place you had been struck by a rock. It was a lump now, the skin raised and inflamed. You felt your head spin as you drew your hand away to see blood. Berold rushed to catch you as you fell forwards towards the floor.

“I did not know you were injured.” He grumbled as his fingers raised your hair and peered at the wound, which was dripping fresh blood, down the back of your neck, “Sit.” He directed you down to the armchair he was sat in before and left you to go and collect some things. Your eyes rolled with pain as you leaned back, trying to stop the ceiling from spinning. Berold’s hot fingers returned to your face and his old, grizzled looking face appeared in front of you. He said something, but the words rang in your deaf ears as white noise echoed in your eardrums. The bear-shifter shook his head and eased your head forwards, cupped in his palm as he plucked at the wound and tutted. What followed next, you couldn’t remember. All you could remember was Berold’s warm fingers as they cleaned and applied things to your head.

 You woke up again wrapped in furs, your head rested on several pillows and wrapped in gauze. You groaned and opened your eyes to see an elf leaned over you. The elf was dark haired with skin of a purple tone, his red eyes covered by a pair of thick lensed glasses. He hummed before whispering something to Berold and then another person appeared. A fae of some kind with soft feathered wings of pure white and a beak to match. She ruffled her feathers before laying out a long looking mushroom and snapping her fingers. The mushroom wiggled before arms and legs popped from its stem.

“Come on, little one, we need that fruit.” She cooed softly with a trill.

The elf was quick to notice your eyes were open and hushed her with a finger to his lips, “You’re awake. Welcome back, but be still, human. We are not finished.” He pressed your head back and held you still as the little mushroom yawned and sat itself into a plant pot full of soil.

“Come, come, ‘ock you’re a lazy one.” The fae complained as she ushered the fungus along and touched her fingers to the pot from behind her great snowy wings. She was covered in soft downy feathers and you were entranced before looking at the elf too, his red eyes judgemental of the mushroom.

 “Berold. Please hold them.” The elf asked.

Berold moved to your side, gruff and huffy as he held your head back and watched the elf move to tease the fruit from the little mushroom’s head, “Thought you could handle this one, Slidrah?” He grumbled.

“Sometimes even the most unassuming patients are the unruliest.” Slidrah complained as the mushroom sneezed out a sporous fruit. He plucked it carefully before placing the fruit into the mortar and beginning to grind it into the paste.

“Slidrah can ye be nice for just once?” The fae trilled.

“Oh of course, Morganna, I will be the kindest elf to the rudest bear I know.” Slidrah complained as he mixed the paste and placed it over a thick padded bandage.

“You wouldn’t make it through the winter without me.” Berold growled as he touched your forehead and stroked your skin softly.

“Sure, Berold.” Slidrah rolled his eyes before he took the bandage and eased your head up. He placed it against the wound before Morganna pulled out a feather from her wing and gently laid it over your stomach as the paste stung against your wound.

“Gently now, dearie.” Morganna cooed at Slidrah before he whispered a word you had never heard before. Your eyes drooped suddenly as your fingers clutched at the feather, stroking the softness between two fingers before you gasped and reached for Berold’s hand. He put a finger to his lips, appearing as double and then triple as your eyes rolled and closed.

 “I know you’re awake.” Berold said as he eased your head up and carefully removed the bandages from around the back of your head, “Sit still.” He carefully peeled away the bandage before he took the paste and compress away, revealing a green mix with a very pungent smell.

“What happened?” You asked quietly, your throat dry and sore from being asleep.

Berold took a new compress to your head, the cloth smeared with a familiar looking paste, “Morganna put you to sleep to help you recover. The compress has helped. The wound is closed.” He eased your head back after he tied the bandage tight enough to hold the cloth and paste to your head, “You were lucky. Skilled healers are the only people who could have helped you. Had I been alone here, you would have died from the trauma.”

You were still tired but the weight of his words sat heavy in your stomach, “Thank you, then…For saving my life again.”

Berold snorted, “Slidrah and Morganna saved your life this time. They left this morning, but they will be back within the week no doubt, you can thank them then.” He stopped you from sitting up with a giant, warm hand pressed to your stomach. Even with one, blind cloudy eye, he still appeared viciously angry, “Stay still. Too much movement could open the wound again. Bed rest. Until Slidrah and Morganna come back.” He insisted with a growl before standing and heading out of the room.

 You gazed around quietly before reaching for the water next to the bed. After a few careful sips, you tugged at the furs and ran your fingers through the thick beaver hair and the pelt of a shaggy goat, which lived up on the cracks in the mountain. They were incredibly warm and you eased back, thankful for the heat of the small bedroom. The cabins’ rooms were made of solid, heavy timber, smelling of fragrant pine, and the small window was covered in glass, something only a rich man could afford, even if it was tiny. You looked at the chimney breast and again wondered how on earth Berold lived in such luxury. Your head swam with even the effort of turning it to peer around at the little room and you closed your eyes as your gut lurched and bile rose in your mouth.

Berold returned with a small bowl in his hands, his black eyes softening as he watched you retch against the furs, “Did I not tell you to stay still?” He said scathingly before he placed the food aside and eased you back against a great pile of overstuffed pillows.

The sweet smell of honey and oats made you wish you didn’t feel so sick, “What did they do to my head.” You complained before Berold pulled your fingers away from your head.

 “They healed it…With magic we don’t mention to anyone. What they did could get us all killed.” Berold seemed unconcerned despite the severity of what he was saying, “The villagers don’t come here. I want to keep it that way.” He brushed the greying streaks of hair from his face before he took hold of the bowl again.

“That smells like what Mrs Freist used to make us.” You murmured at the bear-shifter, “She had beehives.”

Berold held a spoonful of the mixture to your lips, “Its honeyed oat porridge. Eat. It will help you regain your strength.” He pressed the wooden spoon insistently to your lips and you opened your mouth to take the food inside, smiling like a child at the tooth rotting taste of too much honey.

“Have you eaten?” You asked quietly after a few mouthfuls.

Berold nodded, “Honey is a favourite of mine.” He confessed as he fed you another spoonful.

“Like a real bear.” You squeezed at the furs with a small laugh, “Its delicious.”

Dark eyes flashed with softness once again and you settled back against the cushions as Berold continued to feed you the bowl of food.

 It continued in a pattern. Twice a day Berold would sit and feed you and around midday he would come to check on you and offer you a meal you often never wanted. Slowly, your strength returned, and Berold trusted you to relieve yourself without falling over and dress yourself so long as you didn’t move too quickly. It was a month before you could walk around and do things without your head spinning, and the snow never seemed to stop for longer than a few days. The mountainside thawed a little and Berold disappeared to gather food and wood before the snow started again and you were trapped once more. A month of snow and ice then lead to a calm week of thawing. Berold was at the windows, his nose raised as he tasted at the air, and opened the door to let the chilly breeze into the cabin. You looked at the massive man from the kitchen as you dried a large pan and placed it away in his rickety cupboards. You had both eaten a thick and heavy stew from the night before for breakfast but Berold had seemed very uninterested in the food in favour of looking out of the window longingly.

 “It smells like spring.” He grumbled as he looked around outside at the slightly thawed snow, “Like…fresh grass.”

“I think the cabin fever has finally gotten to you old man.” You joked from the kitchen, “Maybe in the valleys, it tends to be thawed now with some grass, but the winter isn’t over just yet.” You placed away a spoon on the rack and turned back to see Berold’s good eye turned to watch you. His milky eye twitched at the ghosts of the shapes outside but he grinned, exposing white, sharp teeth at you.

“Old man?” He asked with a huffy chortle, “If I’m old then you’re a cub.”

“A cub?” You asked, “I’m old enough to have at least three little parasites to my name.” You gave a dry snort, “But that didn’t happen, thank the gods.”

“They make children have more children now?” Berold raised a dark eyebrow as he closed the door and headed towards the fire to look at the log pile along the side of the wall.

“Its worse elsewhere.” You insisted, “But thankfully no one wants the orphan with no dowery.”

“Dowery…You mean the money a father gives for a man to marry his child? I thought that practice ancient?” Berold looked at you in confusion again.

 “Just how long have you been up here?” You asked, not believing what you were hearing, “Did a snowball hit you too hard in the head?” You joked as you placed away the last of the bowls.

Berold chewed on his words for a minute, “I slept…for a long time.” He confessed, “We are akin to dragons, but my hibernation took some years from me after the arenas. I was taken as a young teenager and forced to fight in the pits, tearing little knights to pieces for the entertainment of some elven king. A foul-smelling fucker. He gave me this.” He dragged a black nail over his eye, “I took his arm off for the trouble.” He snarled and pointed to the bone laid on the mantle, “But I slept after that up in this mountain from being…” He shrugged, “I was old, but I was not grey.” He confessed, “But we live for a long time…”

 “Humans who wore bear skins were once Gods.” You whispered.

Berold’s teeth were exposed in another snarling smile, “We were once Gods of wisdom.” He tapped the wall with his nails, “But now we are dead and gone.”

“There are tales of shifters to the north, beyond here, why don’t you go there?” You asked.

“I have no need of a tribe, just as they had no need of me when they left me to die.” He shrugged and pulled his hair from his face, “Not one of them came to my aid when I screamed in the woodlands, impaled on spears and dragged to serve as a toy for a king of pointed eared fuckers. So, I will not go to them. They can rot in their woods with the nymphs.” Berold dismissed the questions with an annoyed flap of his hand.

“Where are you going?” You asked as he dragged his coat from the wall and pulled his boots on his feet.

“To bathe and ensure no one has decided this is now their territory.” Berold grunted as he opened the door again.

“There’s somewhere to bathe?” You asked with glee, “Can I…”

“You will freeze. It is a freezing lake beneath a waterfall.” He snapped at you before he closed the door, abruptly ending the conversation between the two of you. You felt anger churn in your gut but you rushed to grab one of his coats and some boots before tying everything closed and rushing after the shifter’s tracks in the snow.

 The tracks lead up the mountain, through the thawing slush, before turning into those of the giant bear who’s claws dragged along in the snow as he lumbered along. You cursed the giant bear-shifter as you followed him up the mountain side and then towards the crags where the path dipped down into an odd-looking alcove. You followed the path down into the hidden side of the mountain face until you heard the crashing of water. A great pool of water was hidden in the alcove, with a small waterfall crashing over the top of the cliff faces into the water below which led into another small waterfall and so on down the side of the mountain. It was surrounded with wildlife and greenery which could not survive on the mountainside against the wind, rain and cold, but could in the sheltered alcove. Berold’s coat and clothes sat in a bundle under the shrubbery closest to you, hidden from the elements and animals.

 You got to the base of the path and watched as Berold’s giant head exploded from under the water. The black bear shook his head and peered around, nose stuck in the air, and you made sure to duck low near his bundles of clothes, the coat and furs hopefully serving to disguise your scent on the wind. The bear huffed and growled before it swam to the edge of the pool and shook out its mass of shaggy fur before making its way to the tree, littered with claw marks and great gouges, before he began to rub his face and body over the bark, scratching and marking the area before the bear growled and fur began to disappear from its back. You watched as the bear howled, its head thrown up as the fur disappeared to reveal dark skin, which slowly melted into the scarred, pale skin of Berold. The muzzle snapped and flattened back towards the dark eyes, one cloudy and blind, and the other closed in agony as Berold began to take shape, his bones snapping and cracking back to reveal a tall, burly man, old and greying in many places. His chest was covered in a thick line of fur and his face was now beginning to grow a beard which was far too thick. He needed a clip, but the winter had left the both of you stuck inside, sleeping and eating most days. Berold seemed much more alert now as he sniffed the air again, naked, his muscles twitching with the cold, before he dove back into the water. He resurfaced a minute later with a snort of water and a grumble as he reached around the bank for his clothes.

 His hand wrapped around your boot, and before you could even yelp, you were dragged from under the bushes, leaves and rotten twigs catching in your hair and coat before you came face to face with Berold’s face. His salt and pepper hair hung around his shoulders but stuck to his face as he snarled at you with sharp, long canines. Water streaked over the muscles of his neck and shoulders as he dragged himself over the edge of the pool, leaning out to keep his weight on you, and to keep you pinned in place.

“I told you not to come with me.” He growled as he pulled the hair from his face with his other hand, “What part of you would freeze did you not understand?”

You yelped as his wet hand slapped over your thigh, holding you in place in the mud, “I want to get clean as well and…well I wanted to see where you were going…” You confessed in a rush as the werebear snorted over you, his nose twitching as he scented you and then the air again.

“Fine then. Strip off.” Berold grunted.

 You felt yourself go hot with embarrassment, “What do you mean strip?” You snarked at him, “Are you some kind of pervert?” You looked away from him as he stood in the pool, the waterline barely hiding his genitals from sight.

“You’re going to freeze either way, but at least your clothes will be dry if you strip them off.” Berold grumbled at you.

For a moment you considered throwing your clothes at him out of spite but with a huff you turned to strip away the coat, “Turn around…” You asked. With a small sigh, Berold turned and the water sloshed around his hips, “Thank you.” He only grunted in response. You carefully removed your clothes and folded the cloth and wool in a neat pile beside Berold’s under the bush.

“Its best if you just jump in.” Berold joked from the water, though his tone was as gruff and mean as usual.

“I don’t think I dare.” You confessed at the edge of the water, shivering before Berold whipped around, grabbing you by the thighs before he launched you up and into the water with a giant splash.

 Water blurred your vision until you broke the surface, coughing and splurting, gasping until you realised you could stand in the waist high water quite easily. Berold laughed, long and raspy as he leaned back and splashed back into the water. It was then you realised the water wasn’t cold. It was pleasantly warm. The shock on your face made Berold heave a great laugh again from where he was floating around the pool, his hair cascading out from him in waves.

“It’s heated by lava I think.” Berold hummed as he floated towards you, his eyes closed, the scars on his face not turned with upset for once but bent upwards with the smile on his lips.

“So why did you lie about it being cold?” You asked as you ducked to cover your body in water.

Berold opened one dark eye and shrugged, tipping himself into the water before turning to look at you, hidden against the edge, “Sometimes I don’t want you following me everywhere I go.” He offered gruffly, “You’re barely recovered to add to that. I didn’t want to have to carry you back home.” He confessed softly as he pushed water over his arms and pointed to the bank, “There’s soap in my coat. I will let you go first, then you can be out of my way.”

 “Sure…” You huffed as you took the soap from the furs and quickly set to work scrubbing your skin as good as you could manage. Once you had lathered up and washed yourself, you dunked your body low and turned to be met with one gleaming dark eye and one blind one, watching you, apparently that whole time.

“Pervert.” You hissed at the Werebear as you threw the soap at him.

Berold snatched the soap from the air, “Think what you want.” He growled as he turned to rub the soap against his shoulders, “Dress. I’ll lead us home.”

You pulled yourself from the small pool and wiped as much water as you could from your skin, grateful for the warm, dry clothes as you pulled them over your chilly skin. Turned away, you looked up the face of the mountain at the snow which was dripping water over the rocks. Berold sloshed in the water as he soaped his skin, and you listened to him move in the water, beating down the urge to turn around and see what the giant werebear looked like. There was a rush of snow from the side of the mountain which made you smile. It was followed by a bleating mountain goat which peered over the side with dark eyes, its shaggy white fur flopping over its eyes once again as it turned and carried on up the mountain, ignoring the two of you in the pool.

 Berold caught your arm a moment later, dressed and still burning hot despite the coolness of the air. He peered upwards, his eyes following the mountain goat with a sniff, “They make for good eating.”

“I’m sure we don’t need anymore food just yet.” You replied as you smiled and watched the goat go.

Berold’s gaze turned to your face, “You don’t smile like that often. It suits you.” He complimented gruffly.

“What do you mean?” You asked as he started back up the path towards his home, expecting you to follow him.

He waited for you to catch up before offering an arm for you to take as you clambered over roots and boulders, “Ever since you woke up you had this far away look on your face, like you were looking for something and just could never find it.” Carefully, he lifted you over a particularly large boulder and followed with a grunt, “You looked sad, until recently.”

You considered his words, remembering spending the first days recovering after Slidrah’s treatment staring longingly out of the small window as the snow battered up the mountainside, “I…” The words seemed to stick in your throat, “I lost the place I called my home and the people who were once the only family I ever had in a single day.” You replied, “All because the stupid baker’s boy couldn’t take a hint.” You picked up a stone on the path and threw it back into the pool, the anger fading with the splash of the water as the stone hit its surface.

 Berold watched the stone soar silently before he opened his mouth, “Then they weren’t your real family, were they?” He scoffed, “If a baker’s boy could call you a witch and Satan’s whore then they were hardly ever your family.”

You felt anger burn in your throat, “They were once. You don’t have to word it in a way that makes it seem like no one ever cared!”

Berold laughed at you as you snatched your arm from his, “The truth hurts, little cub, better get used to that before someone really hurts you.”

“I refuse to turn into a bitter, cruel man like you. Not everyone is out to hurt you!” You refused to let him see you cry as you stormed up the snowy banking, “And not everyone wants to become an emotionally stunted recluse like you either!”

The werebear grabbed you by the arm before you could carry on with your tantrum, “As much as your words hurt me.” He rolled his eyes, “I refuse to let you storm off, get lost and develop hypothermia, again.”

“Bite me.” You grumbled before Berold snarled and grappled you easily, hauling you over his shoulder as you struggled, pinning you in place before he started back to his cabin.

“You can have your childish, ignorant tantrum back where you won’t die.”

 You didn’t see Berold for a few days after the argument. He left you in the cabin and went out to collect wood and forage while the weather was good, and he could avoid being stranded in the snow. The tension was made somehow worse by his temper and you spent all the time you could avoiding him, reading the same books over and over in your room before collecting a meal and disappearing back into your room once more. You opened the tale of the origin of Solgren once more that day and huffed at the first page and its ancient map of the region. It was a hot country, far to the south, where it is said a race of snake creatures and lizardfolk are worshipped as deities and gods. You heard a merchant once talk about a Naga of fertility that birthed a thousand snakes into a ravine to produce a venomous pit into which no one could enter.

 A heavy knock sounded on your door.

“Yes?” You asked with less of the usual venom, “What is it, Berold?”

The werebear opened the door and looked at you, his good eye roving over you tucked in the furs reading. You had even snuck into his honey stash again out of the top of the cupboard, “I see I need to find somewhere new to hide the honey.” He offered lamely as he entered, “I have come to apologise.” He stated, watching your eyes widen, “I was cruel and brash. I did not intend to upset you, but I did not think… But I am sorry.”

You met his intense gaze and nodded, “Apology accepted, and…I’m sorry too.” You closed your book, “I was foul as well. I know you’ve been through a lot, just like me, and I don’t have the right to take that out on you.”

 Berold seemed satisfied by that statement, “It seems we both need to learn how to not upset one another…” He tugged over a stool and sat by the edge of your bed, “And I need to learn that opening up to people is not the end of the world.” With a gruff noise he reached and pulled his loose cotton shirt over his head, revealing the thick, puckered scars from over his shoulders. He twisted on the stool and you were graced with the full extent of the injuries. His back was covered in long, thick scars, pale and tough from where they had healed, now filled with collagen toughened tissue.

“Is this what they did to you?” You asked.

“When I did not perform, they used steel tipped whips. I could only ever endure about five, but it was five every time I couldn’t stand for almost thirty years of my life.” He offered, “A woman would come and cover them with a mint paste when she could. She was in charge of the animals… They still hurt.” He reached to touch the ones on his shoulders before flinching as his tough fingers met your own, “They are an ugly reminder of that place, but an even better reminder of what I did to all of them.”

 Burning fire flashed behind your eyes, a memory of your own tragedy, “Did you kill them all?” You asked quietly as you traced a thick scar down the centre of his spine.

Berold’s burning, black gaze turned to look at you, holding your gaze he nodded, “Every last one of them.” He curled his fist as his other hand took hold of your own, “It felt good, when I pulled that fucker’s arm off, but…It was hollow after that. I left him bleeding on his throne and made for the mountains. Walked for…I don’t know. Its hazy, the memories of my other side. I ate fish for days and slept in a cave before waking up with grey in my hair. Revenge made me old.” He finished with a sour joke as he turned back to face you head on and pulled his shirt back on over his head.

“I’m sorry people did that to you.” You wanted to cry but you tried to smile, “It seems we both have a little tragedy, huh?”

“It seems so.” Berold hummed before he offered you his hand, “But…There’s no reason we can’t build something a bit better.” He squeezed your hand gently.

“Are you asking me to marry you?” You joked.

He tugged your hand closer to his fangs, “Hardly…But some company up here wouldn’t go amiss.”

“Then I accept your proposal.” You squeezed his hand before offering him a look at the book cover, “Have you read this one?” You asked.

Berold shook his head of shaggy hair, “No. Read it to me?” He asked quietly, “I’ll make more honey tea.”

 Reading slowly became a routine. After dinner, the two of you would sit by the fire, and you would open a book to read to the werebear. Often, he ended up with his head in your lap and your hand in his hair, snoozing in the heat as you quietly read the story. It had started with him, shifted, curled on the floor by the fire, but as the days went on, Berold seemed to grow more comfortable and laid out his form over the cushions and furs and yourself. It was nice. His heat was soothing and his frame wrapped snuggly around your own. When he did finally drift off, you read for a while longer before easing his head onto a pillow and slipping away to bed. He never said anything the next day. This night was much the same, and you propped the book up in front of you as you stroked through his grey and black hair, winding the strands together aimlessly as you read the tale or Narbren and Senoot, two fae of the oaks who had once saved the fae realm. He was uninvested, but happily closed his eyes as you stroked through his hair.

“Senoot took the flames of the world tree in hand and cried, her tears dripping into the wood ashes with despair as she watched the leaves and bark burn before her eyes. Narben thrust his sword at the spirits, his own tears of fury soaking the ground. Together they mourned the tree in the burning fire…” You paused as there came a knock on the door, removing your fingers from Berold’s hair, “At this hour?” You asked breathily before Berold’s eyes turned angry. He pulled himself from the cushions and stood, his shoulders squared as he turned the lock with a clunk and opened the wood door inwards.

 The chilly breeze blew into the room and you tucked the furs around your legs as Berold filled the doorway, his giant, almost seven-foot-tall frame blocking much of his home from view. You peered around him to catch a glimpse of the guards stood at the door.

“Good evening, sir.” One guard tipped his helmet forwards, “I’m sorry to knock so late but we have a favour to ask of you.”

“Good evening…I’m not much in the way of favours.” Berold grunted, “I can’t spare you room to stay if that is what you are going to ask.”

“No, sir. We are after a witch.” The guard scowled before he pointed into the cabin, “We have a warrant to search every home until we find them.”

“How does that warrant affect me? This mountain is the border territory.” Berold snapped, “I will not have you come in here and ravage my home.”

“It is law. We will do it by force if necessary.” The guard threatened, “And we wish to speak with your…”

 Fear laced through you as Berold grunted, “That is my partner. We are to be married in the spring.” He grumbled at the guard, “Touch and I will rip you open.” But he moved to the side to allow the group inside. Their cloaks caught on the doorframe and you nodded to them as they entered the room, praying no one had given them a detailed description of your face.

The rest of the party moved into the house, leaving one with Berold and you, “You are to be married but why is your spouse with you?”

“They have no family.” Berold picked at his teeth with a dark nail, “Every winter we spend time here, but the weather has been too bad to return home.”

The guard gave a disbelieving look, “And visitors?” He asked.

“None. I trade with a few people over the mountain but as I said, the weather has been too bad.” Berold answered. You could see his temper wearing thin as the guards dropped something in the kitchen, but he stood by the door, as calmly as he could manage.

 “You.” The guard pointed to you, “Where are you from?” He asked.

You swallowed and smiled as best as you could, “The village Berold mentioned, sir, just over the mountain. I worked with a man named Slidrah, he’s the apothecary owner.”

“What’s the name of the place.” He pressed.

“Ignot.” You replied, praying you had heard Slidrah right on his last visit to the cabin. The guard eyed you for a moment more with his pinprick gaze before he seemed satisfied and moved back to questioning Berold about his comings and goings. You sat by the fire and pretended to read as they continued to look through the house and assess every nook and cranny of the building. Berold watched with furious eyes until they were ready to depart. The guards were curt with their depart and you watched them from the window, wrapped in a heavy blanket. Berold growled by the door, snorting and grumbling as he stretched and paced by the door.

 “Berold?” You asked as he reached for the door, his brows thickening and darkening as his sharp teeth protruded from out underneath his top lip.

“Stay inside.” He demanded, “They know. They’ll bring more.” He reached for the door handle and opened the wooden door again, letting the cold air in once again as he snarled and snorted, “No one comes in. You don’t let anyone in unless they knock four times.”

“Why four times?” You asked as you took hold of his shirt, “They’ll know if you kill them…”

“I’m doing this…This one thing to protect someone I care about, for once.” Berold confessed with another growl before he stormed out of the door, his face cracking with a shift, “Keep it locked until those knocks!” He shouted through his teeth and you slammed the door locked and removed the key with a deep breath as you listened to Berold stumble and howl in the snow, hobbling down the mountain on the tracks the guards had left behind.

 He didn’t return that night and you spent it huddled by the fire, sipping honey sweetened tea as you watched the fire and kept it hot, hoping Berold would return later.

 Four knocks woke you in the morning. They came slow and were lethargic, as though the person was exhausted.

“Its me.” Berold growled from outside, “Let me in.”

You rushed from the pillows and blankets in the chair and took the key to open the door. It swung open to reveal Berold, tired and drawn, but otherwise clean and uninjured.

“Are you okay?” You helped him inside and watched as he set himself down in the armchair, exhausted.

“I’m fine.” He grumbled, “But they’re not…I took them into the village and told them a bear attacked. The villagers seemed to buy it. They won’t be able to deliver their message.” He yawned against the furs before opening his eyes and tucking his hair behind his ears. He scrubbed at his beard before sighing, “I did it to protect you. I…” He took a long breath, “I think I have grown to love something but myself.” He uttered as his eyes slid closed a little, “You sit right here.” He pointed to his heart, “And I think I would…be sad if you were to leave me.” Berold reached for your face, tracing a gentle circle over your cheek before he smiled tiredly, “What this old bear is trying to say, is that I love you.”

 The words rang in your ears for a moment. Your face lit up with a smile.

“You’re a thick-headed idiot, you know that right?” You tucked a fur over his lap before Berold dragged you to him.

“Is that you saying you feel this way too?” He grumbled next to your neck as his hair tickled at your skin.

You pulled his head up and smiled before laying one kiss on his cheek, “Yes. I love you too.”

Berold dragged you closer and pressed your lips together, his teeth poking against your bottom lip as he turned his head and rubbed his hands along your sides. It was intense and you felt like you were drowning, smothered in the entirety of Berold for a moment before he pulled away and stroked at your neck and face, his face buried in your hair.

“Thank you.” He whispered.

“Don’t thank me.” You replied as you tucked his hair back, “But promise that’ll you’ll keep talking and letting me in.”

“I promise, dearest.” Berold whispered against your cheek as he dragged the furs over the two of you.