#Task Force: VALKYRIE

[imaginesheaven]

Pilot!Reader x TF 141

Friendship Headcanons

Warnings: cursing

Words spread like fire about your amazing skills in the air. Every team that got assigned to you and your helicopter comes back home safe and sound.

Captain Price demands your transfer to his team after you had the honor to do a mission with the Task Force 141. He only chooses the best of the best to work with.

“John! You can’t demand every good soldier I have for your team.” – “Laswell, I can and I will~”

Needless to say, but Laswell is more than pissed since you are one of the best pilots if not the best pilot on the base, but Price always get what he wants.

With your quite sassy and funny demeanor you win the hearts of the tough men rather quickly.

“Dear Task Force 141, this is your pilot speaking. If you look to the right side of the helicopter you can see Eagle 3 challenging us to a race. So, please keep seated and hold on for dear life because shit is about to get real~”

The team making bets between you and the other pilot of Eagle 3. In the end, you always win.

At first the team makes fun of you naming your helicopter Valkyrie, but after a little nosedive after a hard mission they stop very quickly. They really made the mistake of underestimating you and your helicopter.

Valkyrie actually was ready to be dropped out from the military due to old age. It was love on first sight for you. It took weeks to convince Laswell but, in the end, you got the old birdy and brought her back to her glory. It came in handy that you are literally blessed with a mechanic soul.

In your free time you love to try out new things to improve Valkyrie for the next mission. Gaz really wants to help every time, but ends up standing in the way most of the time.

“Can you give me the screwdriver for the Fillister Head screws?” – “Uh…. this one?” – “Nope, there most be another one.” – “This one?” – “… You know, Gaz, the windows are in need for a good cleaning. Could you do that for me?”

You hit him with the puppy eyes and Gaz goes to clean the windows like you asked. In the end he is just happy to be there with you :)

Soap is really fascinated with the weapons Valkyrie carries for the missions. You always take your time to explain and show him everything. Here and there he is also allowed to help you out during missions to kill a few of the enemies. That makes him literally so happy like a little boy in the candy shop.

Nevertheless, you use every single chance to mess with Soap. Sometimes Price joins you just for the fun of it.

“Get away from my baby, Soap.” – “I’m not doing anything!” – “You are way too close and I don’t like how you look at her.” – “What the hell?” – “Do what (Y/N) says, Soap!” – “But, Captain!” – “No buts.”

Gaz and Ghost know exactly what is going on and try to hold in their snickering.

With you there is literally not a single dull moment before, during and after missions. The boys love and life for those moments.

Once you left behind one of the soldiers because he got on your nerves before take-off.

“Eagle 2, where are you going?” – “Uh, Urzikstan.” – “You forgot one of the soldiers. He’s banging on the window here.” – “Yeah, we kind of had a fight and he’s an asshole so I kind of had to kick him out. I’m sure Eagle 3 has enough space for him.” – “Eagle 2, you can’t do that. Cancel takeoff clearance!” – “Oops, I accidentally put the throttles to TO/GA. See you later alligator~”

Or the other time on the way back to the base.

„Watcher 1, we request medical at the gate. Uh, we beat up another stowaway…” – “Eagle 2… YOU DID WHAT?!” – “Uh… yeah, we found him halfway back to base and he refused to leave the helicopter so we beat him up and tied him like a present gift on Christmas morning…” – “I am not dealing with this! Land like always and contact ground for medical aid.”

To Laswell’s displeasure you take your sweet time after missions to come back to the base. Here and there you make a little stop at the next fast-food chain.

“I think the drive-through will not do it. Someone has to go out and order at the counter…”

Those encounters with Laswell over the comm create a quite close bond between the two of you over the time.

“Look, who’s back!” – “Don’t even say it, Watcher 1.” – “You were supposed to land five hours ago?!” – “You should be happy we came here at all~” – “How about you land on time for once. That’ll make me happy.” – “We got burgers. Do you want one?” – “YOU GOT WHAT, EAGLE 2?!” – “Burgers…” – “… You will be the death of me … Get them over here fast, Eagle 2.”

Of course, Kate would never admit it out loud that you are her favorite pilot.

“Oh, Eagle 2!” – “Shut up and let me concentrate!” – “Five hours late again. At least butter this landing.” – “We are not Eagle 3. At least we know how to land.” – “Let’s learn how to come in on time next… Did you secure the goods?” – “Sure, Watcher 1. Your usual order coming right to you~”

Captain Price lost count how often you saved their lives with Valkyrie. They trust you blind and know you would do anything to bring them back home. But during one special mission you show how the team really mean to you.

“(Y/N)! We need air support! We can’t get to the evac point!”, the team needs your help, but you ran out of ammo a few minutes ago. You know exactly that they won’t make it without your help. This is the hardest and easiest decision at the same time you have to make.

“It was a good time we had together, Valkyrie”, you say your goodbye to the helicopter before you let crash your baby into the pack of enemies.

“NO! (Y/N)!”, the men are devastated to see Valkyrie go down knowing exactly you must be in the helicopter. Their hearts shatter. They couldn’t save you.

“Boys, come on! We need to be at the evac point in five minutes. Eagle 3 will get us!”, you stumble around the house corner quite out of breath. “You are alive!”, they can’t believe their eyes.

“Not much longer!”, you grab the first one by the hand to drag them into the direction where Eagle 3 will collect you. Once in the helicopter you are all safe and sound for now and on the way back to the base.

“(Y/N) … you crashed Valkyrie … for us?”, Gaz looks at you with his big puppy eyes. You only shrug with your shoulder not trying to think about the helicopter trashed into thousand pieces, “I really don’t want to talk about her.”

It might sound strange, but you are mourning Valkyrie like the helicopter would have been a real soldier. You had spent so much time with her. She was part of your family.

Of course, the team would make it up to you as good as they can. So, one day Gaz comes up to you with a blindfold, “Put it on.” You shake your head immediately, “Not for anything in this world.”

He defeats you with your own weapons. The puppy eyes. You put the blindfold on and get dragged over the whole base until you lose track of where you are actually going. “Oh my god, Gaz! I’m getting really sick.”

“TADA!”, he pulls down the blindfold. For a second you were blinded from the sunshine, but then it hits you. “We can’t give you Valkyrie back, but how about Valkyrie II!”, Soap exclaims pointing at the new helicopter. The whole team looks so damn proud of themselves for gifting you an even better helicopter.

“Thank you, boys. You are too sweet”, you get wrapped up in a big bear hug. “So, you know, Laswell doesn’t want you to know she gave us the money to purchase the new helicopter”, Price tells you with a smile on his lips.

“I chose the interior of the helicopter and the color!”, Gaz exclaims and points at Valkyrie II.

“I was responsible for the weapons! I can show you everything!”, Soap adds.

“I coordinated everything”, Price shrugs his shoulders.

You look at Ghost. He holds up an air freshener, “I want it to smell good.”

[necrowyrm]

I love the liberal use of the abbreviation MTF in SCP stuff. Like yeah it means mobile task force but its much cooler to imagine them as a collection of cool transfems. MTF Valkyries. MTF Clever girls. MTF Pumpkin Punchers.

[shadowqueenjude]

A rant from Eris if he finds out how Cassian treated Nesta

Eris: What the hell is wrong with you people? Rhysand: Excuse me? Eris: You have the chance to befriend a goddess in a Fae body, and you lock her in a house when she's depressed? Are you insane? Rhysand: Now see, she was wasting away- Eris: And, what, you thought locking her away was the SOLUTION? Rhysand: I had to do something! She was spending my money! Eris: Oh shut up Reece's Piece of shit. Don't complain about money like you don't have 5 fucking palaces you dickhead. If Nesta asked for my money, I'd have said, whatever you wish, queen!" Rhysand: That's because you didn't see her- Eris: I saw her when she was just made before you morons even knew what she was. And I'm not talking about her silver flames. She made all the High Lords listen. Even my father. A human just turned Fae. How dare you treat her like she's something to be ashamed of? That brute had her hike a MOUNTAIN? Those flawless feet should not have to do any manual labor. Rhysand: She revealed our secrets to Feyre. Eris: Yeah, the malignant pregnancy. Why the hell wasn't Feyre being informed anyway? Nesta was completely right to tell her. You're worse than my father, Rhysand. Rhysand: How dare you- Eris: Did I give you permission to speak, you Illyrian brute? At least my father would've tried to save his wife from the unborn child. He would've yeeted that mfer out as soon as he or she appeared. But you didn't do shit to try and protect the mother. No, you were more concerned about the goddamn egg. Rhysand: How dare you speak to me this way- Eris: You GASLIGHTED her into believing she's worthless, all while making her complete the tasks of a HIGH LADY by going after the Dread Trove. And when she was at her lowest, she inspired an entire library of traumatized priestesses to rise up and restore the Valkyries. And you dare treat her that way? You don't even realize the treasure you have. I would've made her my High Lady without hesitation. Matter of fact, I think I'll call the Blood Duel for her. Rhysand: You'd better not try anything, Eris, or I swear... Eris: You'll what? Kill me? Didn't Lucien tell you? Death threats are simply another Sunday evening while growing up with Beron as a father. Fucking try me, bitch. You should be grateful I spared your little Morrigan from her father after you forced him on her. Rhysand: What do you think you're d- Eris: I'll see you at the blood duel!

@thatlosernoonelikes This is Eris's part of the rant!

[starandcloud]

Graves' girl

That's how you had been known for years, as "Graves' girl" after all... Philip never gave your name away. He had anything to set you apart from others hidden, beauty marks, hair, eyes, he even had you wear a mask and gloves when you were out in public. He insisted it was to keep you safe, and you never understood until Shepard and a Priest knocked on your door. You kept it locked and hid in the only room without windows, the broom closet. Heavy tears ran down your face, you already knew what the words would be when you opened the doors. "I'm sorry for your loss" and you didn't want to hear that... Not when Philip had been so close to coming home... It took years for you to recover and you never fully did, but in those years you pushed yourself. You remade the Shadow Company from other wives and husbands and partners who had their significant other killed in action; and god damn you were a force to be reckoned with. A task force fueled by anger and grief. You were known as the Valkyries. You were terrifying to face in battle, after all... All of your husbands, wives, and partners were in the shadow company when they were wiped out. You spent years believing Philip was dead so when you found him, you were angry. You believed it was a false him, until he yelled out how the two of you had met and what your first date was. You were still angry, so you brought your hand down across his face. Leaving a pretty little red mark, then kissing him. Your hands held his face tightly to yours as his hands dug into your shirt and skin.

"Why didn't you come home..?" "I couldn't, I couldn't risk losing you..."

[writing-with-moss]

Safehouse…pt. 1!

TW- cursing

CW- this is my OC Rory ‘Valkyrie’ O’Connor (I have a character sheet for her posted up which you can find on my pinned post)

this is my first fan fiction so pls don’t be super judgy!

You felt exhausted, the weight of your tac gear and the days fuckery heavy on your body.

the safehouse was small. One bedroom, one couch, a radio positioned on a tiny shelf by a tiny window that let the small amount of moonlight into the room. Food. Water. Shelter. What you needed to camp out for the night. And there, in the center of it all, was him.

it wasn’t supposed to end up like this. It was supposed to be a quick in and out mission, simple, easy, key word- quick. But it wasn’t, and you were chased down to the safe house. With Simon fucking Ghost Riley.

Simon. Where do you even start? You can’t deny the feelings you get when you stare at him. You’re a levelheaded mature soldier, but that doesn’t stop you from getting lonely. Far from it. And maybe you do like the small peeks of skin from under his mask and his rough voice and his calm nature. Soap makes you relaxed and Gaz and you have comfortable mature conversations and Price is like a dad but the feelings you have for Simon are far from platonic. And he didn’t even know it.

he turned slightly, meeting your eyes. The tension in the air was thick, you could practically feel it in the back of your throat.

“…you should get some rest. You have bags under your eyes Val.” His rough voice mumbles to you. His accent making you slightly weak in the knees.

“you need sleep too.” You retort. You don’t know why you don’t just shut up and take the bed and finally rest. But maybe staying up with him is better than that. “You need sleep as much as I do.” You take a weary step forward.

“You’re right. I can sleep on the couch.”

“I’m smaller. I can fit on the couch better than you can.” You point out. And it was true. He was bigger, much bigger than you. You weren’t a small woman 5’8” muscled and curvy. But he had to have at least 50 pounds and a half a foot on you. you see his shoulders slump. He’s too tired to argue, which you don’t know if it’s a good thing or a bad thing. “Fine. Sleep on the couch.” his body, shuffled to the back of the Safehouse, stripping slowly out of his tac gear.

you immediately look away, you don’t know why you’re acting so shy. You’ve seen him naked before, you’ve seen everyone on the task force naked before. He’s seen you that way too so why are your cheeks so flushed and-

“why so prudish Val?” You can practically hear the smirk on his lips.

“I’m not being prudish, I’m being modest. And giving you privacy.” You quickly snap back, stuffing down your feelings and undoing the front of your tac gear.

“Whatever you say.”

you think for a moment and mumble. “And don’t call me Val, just…call me Rory. We aren’t all professional right now.”

“Rory.” The way he says your name makes your cheeks burn up. The way he rolls the R’s on his tongue, testing how your name feels in his mouth. “Rory. Cute name. Thought it was for boys though?”

“short for aurora, but I hate aurora. So it’s Rory.” You drop your gear down, leaving you in your t-shirt and pants. You can feel his eyes trace your hips.

He moves towards you, and you finally glance back. You’ve seen him without his mask on before, but it still makes you breathe a little heavy. His face is masculine, eyebrows well built and thick, his jaw prominent and his lips a little thin. His eyes were set a little deep into his face, a nice rich brown color. His skin littered with tiny scars and the remnants of eye black in the creases of his skin. His blonde hair fell in straight strands, cut into a sharp military style haircut.

you felt your heart pump, beating wildly against your rib cage. His eyes searching your green ones. You were itching to touch his face but restrained, thinking it was too forward.

you don’t know what prompted you to say it, but it kind of just tumbled out of your mouth. “Is it just me or do we have a lot of tension?”

‘And touching his face was too forward? You’re an idiot Rory!’

you felt stupid when you saw his slightly taken aback expression, well, until a rare smile cracked on his lips. “Yeah….I guess we do.” He admits, sitting back on the back of the couch. “It’s what we’re gonna do with it that’s really what matters.” He points out and he’s valid for it.

what are you gonna do with all this tension?

—————————End of Pt. 1—————————-

[iamcautiouslyoptimistic]

Task Force 141 Supernatural AU

{Author's Note} I sent this to @alypink first and she really liked it so now everyone gets to see it lol! Took some inspo from other CoD monster AUs, specifically the ones by @bluegiragi and @tactax-art. Even though some ideas are similar, I made sure I put my own spin on everything so nothing was copied. Also included my girl Vana because I thought it'd be fun. I also have ideas for additional characters like Farah and Alejandro but would like to revamp them a bit. Let me know what you guys think! (and I haven't forgotten about the Mason x Helina series, don't worry👀) {Tag List} @alypink @efingcod @welldonekhushi @walder-138 @imagoddamnonionmason @littlemissclandestine @mango-parfait @thedevillovesflowers @http-paprika @mctvsh @adlerboi @deadbranch @moosch @theqreatorsworld

~ ~ ~

The members of Task Force 141 are non-humans who are specially trained to engage with supernatural threats. General Shepherd, Kate Laswell, and Alex Keller are humans who work closely with the team.

💲John Price -> Werewolf: Though cursed to take on a monstrous wolf form, Price benefits from a supernaturally enhanced physiology and superior senses. His sense of smell is especially keen so he always keeps a cigar on hand to prevent himself from being completely overwhelmed.

💀Simon "Ghost" Riley -> Reaper: Existing somewhere between the physical and immaterial worlds, Ghost is a harbinger of death who can travel through shadows, interact with departed spirits, and foretell a person's demise. He doesn't need to eat or sleep but still feels emotions and pain, especially when he interacts with the living.

🧼John "Soap" MacTavish -> Fire Elemental: Soap was blessed by a tribe of síth upon his birth, who granted him the ability to summon and control fire. He can wreathe his body in flames, cast explosive fireballs from his palms, and even choose what his fire will and will not burn. His Mohawk is usually the first to catch fire when he uses his abilities, which his fellow soldiers find especially entertaining.

🧢Kyle "Gaz" Garrick -> Arcane Knight: Having been chosen as its wielder, Gaz carries a bewitched sword that grants him an enchanted set of plate armor and supernatural strength. He can even call it to his hand, no matter how far it might be from his grasp. It's believed this blade could be the legendary Excalibur but its true origins are unknown.

🪶Evangeline "Vana" Vogel -> Valkyrie: Vana is a valkyrie, one of an ancient race of winged warrior women. She can interact with the spirits of the dead and unfurl a pair of resplendent wings from her back that allow her to fly. Upon her command, the feathers of her wings will harden into metal that can then be launched at foes or used as shields.

[localhopedealerr]

-Here For You.-

Azriel x Reader

You were born into this world as a survivor. You had survived the wrath of Amarantha. Had survived watching your whole family being picked off one by one during the war with Hybern. Had picked yourself back up, brushed off your shoulders and started a new day.

You took great pride in your ability to swallow the pain and avoid making others around you taste it. It was a burden that was yours alone.

If you could appear put together from the outside, soon enough those feelings would be the same within yourself. You just had to keep surviving.

Then, there were days like today.

Days where you would wake up with such a weight in your bones, it seemed impossible to lift yourself out of bed. Your mate was already long gone, Azriel’s days started early at the training ring with the Valkyrie. Training you usually joined in on.

There was a pull against your mind, Azriel reaching out for you. He was wondering where you were, why you hadn’t made your way to him yet. To training. You felt pathetic for letting yourself feel this way.

You barely had the energy to shoot a small comforting feeling back towards him. Finally, you hoisted your body out of bed, and forced yourself to dress.

___

If anyone noticed you were acting differently during training, they were polite enough not to mention it. Movements that usually came to you so easily, were a struggle today. Your mind couldn’t focus on anything, you seemed to lag behind the group.

If Azriel hadn’t taken notice to your sullen mood, the lack of light that usually graced your face, he would have been calling you out. Questioning why the movements were so sloppy today. Why you seemed so distant from the tasks in front of you.

You were thankful then, that some hearts understood each other even in silence. He let you be, didn’t pry on you in front of everybody.

He had saved his questioning for after the last of the priestesses had finally left the ring, leaving you to continue to throw weak hits at one of the practice dummy’s. You didn’t deserve to be finished yet, and hadn’t exhausted yourself enough to ebb some of this pain away.

He braced against the one of the weapon racks, arms crossing over his chest as he watched you continue to throw your punches. You had worked up a good enough sweat now, your cheeks flushed from the continuous movement.

“Want to tell me what’s going on in that head of yours?”

no.

Another punch.

You needed to respond. You just didn’t trust your voice enough not to crack once you started speaking.

“Y/N.”

Another punch.

“You know i am here, right?”

He took a step towards you. You didn’t stop, didn’t acknowledge him. Your whole body was screaming at you to spill it all out, beg him to hold you, ask for support.

“Whether you want to talk to me or not. I am here for you.”

Another punch.

He released a sigh.

The shadowsinger turned and walked away then, ready to leave you be to figure this out on your own. Ready to let you shut him out, he would try not to take it to heart if you couldn’t speak to him. He understood how hard it was.

He was always making an effort to communicate, tried to be as open as he could be for his mate. While you had stayed in silent with what hurt you. Swallowing it whole and trying to carry on.

Your fist finally stopped. Your chest heaving as you looked up at the sky helplessly, then towards your mates fleeting figure.

“ Everything still haunts me.”

Azriel paused mid step, turning to look at you with his eyes before his whole body followed. He looked surprised that you had stopped him. That you had even spoken out loud.

“No matter how hard i try to swallow it. Everything *still* haunts me. “ You laughed at yourself then, a small pitiful sound. “Everything consumes me sometimes.“

“Y/N..” Azriel came closer, closing the distance between the two of you, finally.

You couldn’t meet his eyes, couldn’t swallow the choked sound that tore from your lips at the onslaught of emotions, at how gentle he sounded. “ I do not understand why I had to go through so much. Why it had to be me the cauldron gave all this to. It is killing me from the inside out. I just can’t-”

He caught your chin with his fingers, angling your head up to finally force our eyes together.

He hated the brokenness he saw within those irises. He wished more than anything that he could take it all away for you.

“You are allowed to fall apart, Love. You do not have to carry all of this on your own.” You didn’t realize how badly you needed to hear those words.

“It’s okay to feel angry, it’s okay if you want to set the world on fire, or hide yourself away from it all. Whatever you need, just let me help you.” Azriel pleaded.

You finally released your tears, practically falling into his arms. He was ready to catch, allowing you to wrap yourself around him while a straggled cry fell from your lips.

Strong hands tangled into your hair as he closed himself in, wings flaring out to the sides as he cocooned you into him. His lips pressed into your hair, as Azriel allowed you to break in his arms. Every emotion releasing out of you in waves.

You weren’t sure how long you sat there clinging to him, letting go of everything you had pent up inside of you. Azriel would have stayed there with you all night, if that’s what you needed.

Your body had finally slowed down. A wave of relief washing over you. You felt yourself truly breathe for the first time all day.

And in that moment, although you couldn’t be sure what true peace was, you assumed it felt a lot like being in his arms.

[littlest-w01f]

Chapter Twelve

Series Masterlist

Cw: Survivor's guilt, self harm

The sun was shining as Rheana sat in the house of winds, with Seraphim over her lap. Its blade gleamed like liquid silver under the sun's glow. With a soft cloth, Rheana carefully wiped away at it, her fingers tracing the intricate engravings that adorned the weapon's hilt. As Rheana carefully cared for the blade of Seraphim, she smiled, remembering how she had written how to take care for weapons long ago, the warm sunlight streaming through the windows of the House of Winds danced across her face, casting a gentle glow upon her tanned features.

Those captivating, soulful depths of her deep violet eyes seemed lost in thought as she worked, her slender fingers moving deftly along the razor-sharp edge of her trusted companion. The rhythmic clinking of steel against stone filled the air as Rheana meticulously sharpened Seraphim's blade. Her focus was unwavering, each stroke deliberate and precise.

Manually grinding down the edges of her sword using whetstone. Starting off with coarser grit stones then gradually move on to finer ones until she achieved the desired sharpness. Letting gravity help her through it.

Rheana continued her meticulous work, her gaze never leaving the blade. Each careful stroke brought forth a slight hiss of metal meeting stone, the sound harmonizing with the rhythm of her heart. The cool touch of the whetstone against her skin contrasted sharply with the warmth of the sun on her back.

In times like these, she truly missed her Valkyrie companions, days of being a Blade and Valkyrie, of honing her own darkness, turning it into Seraphim, it was all so many centuries ago, yet seemed like yesterday.

Memories flooded back to Rheana as she continued polishing Seraphim's gleaming surface, the thunderous roar of battle, the rush of adrenaline coursing through her veins, the intoxicating scent of blood and sweat mingling in the air. She recalled the fierce camaraderie among her fellow Valkyries, their unbreakable bonds forged in the crucible of combat.

Rheana's mind wandered to Tanwyn, her closest friend and confidante, with whom she had shared countless adventures and secrets. They had stood side by side, blades drawn, facing down the most formidable foes. Rheana gazed out the window at the serene landscape, she couldn't help but feel a pang of nostalgia for those bygone days of glory and sisterhood.

She forced herself to think of the tasks at hand, Kallos had returned from delivering her letter to Tarquin, thought they came back without a reply, Rhysand had taken Feyre to the Weaver, she hoped Feyre would not suffer the full wrath of Stryga. When she realised that their mother had given up the ring to her, Rheana had tried to get it back, only to barely escape with her life. She had been young and stupid back then, but she was sure if she were to go against her again, she might have better odds, since now she was equal parts a cocky Illyrian and a cocky Valkyrie.

Rheana's lips curled into a wry smile at the memory of her younger self, brash and impulsive, eager to prove herself. But life had taught her the value of patience, strategy, and measured action. Now, as she tended to Seraphim, her thoughts turned to the present predicament. Rheana set aside the whetstone and examined Seraphim's edge critically.

And the Dark sword glowed, as if happy. Seraphim hummed softly, its dark metal pulsing with otherworldly energy as it responded to Rheana's attention. The blade seemed almost sentient, craving the bond between wielder and weapon. In the House of Winds, the atmosphere grew charged, as if the very air vibrated with the sword's power.

Rheana felt an inexplicable thrill course through her veins, a primal connection to the weapon that transcended mere craftsmanship. It was as if Seraphim yearned for the chaos of battle, the clash of steel, the heat of spilt blood, just like the very darkness in her that she used to forge it. The desire for destruction simmered beneath its gleaming surface, waiting to be unleashed once more.

"There there," Rheana tutted at the weapon of mass destruction as if it were a docile pet. The sword's thrumming subsided slightly, though the dark aura surrounding it remained palpable. Rheana could sense its eagerness, the hunger for violence and mayhem that dwelled within its core. It was a reflection of her own nature, the shadowy aspects she kept leashed, lest they consume her entirely.

She soon got distracted by Cassian and Amren bickering, Amren looked in the right mind to kill Cassian, he for sure had made another joke about her height.

Amren shot Cassian a venomous glare, her petite frame quivering with indignation. "How dare you!" she seethed, her voice low and deadly. "I'll have you know, I could snap you in half like a twig."

Cassian held up his hands in mock surrender, a mischievous glint in his hazel eyes. "Easy there, little one. I was merely jesting." He chuckled, clearly amused by Amren's ire.

Rheana rolled her eyes, exasperated by their antics. "For the love of Mother, can you two keep it civil?"

Rheana watched the exchange between Amren and Cassian with a mixture of amusement and unease. Amren's fury was palpable, her petite frame practically vibrating with rage as she hurled insults at the smirking male. Cassian, ever the provocateur, seemed to revel in riling up the ancient female, his eyes sparkling with mischief even as Amren threatened him with all manner of creative tortures.

As the argument reached a fever pitch, Cassian reached for his knife at his thigh in an attempt to intimidate Amren, who looked raging at his attempt, Rheana intervened, her voice cutting through the verbal sparring like a blade. "Enough." The single word carried the weight of command, honed by centuries of leadership. Both Amren and Cassian fell silent, turning to face her with varying degrees of contrition and defiance.

Rheana fixed them with a stern look, her violet eyes flashing with annoyance. She paused then, "I smell... meat," Her nose crinkled, "Not the good kind."

Just then Rhysand and Feyre landed on the floor, Rheana gaped at the state Feyre was in, covered in greasy meat, fats and hair, clearly from the weaver's chimney.

"You smell like barbecue," Amren cringed, her nose crinkling.

Feyre's clothes were stained with grease and ash, her hair matted with soot. The scent of charred flesh hung heavily around her, a pungent reminder of the ordeal she'd endured.

Rhysand, meanwhile, appeared relatively pristine compared to his mate, though there was a certain smug satisfaction in his demeanour. He took in the scene with a casual air, his violet eyes twinkling with amusement. "I see our little adventure was successful," he remarked, a sly grin playing on his lips.

Rheana exchanged a glance with Rhysand, concern etched into her features. "What happened?" she asked, her voice laced with worry.

"You kill her?" Cassian asked at the same time. A little more smug.

"No," Rhysand was the one to answer, "But given how much the Weaver was screaming, I’m dying to know what Feyre darling did."

Before Rheana could ask Feyre if she was alright, she threw up all over the floor. Feyre retched violently, expelling the contents of her stomach onto the polished floorboards. The acrid stench of bile and partially digested meat filled the room, causing Cassian to swear at the sight

Rheana rushed to Feyre's side, supporting her as she continued to heave. "Easy there," she murmured, her brow furrowed with concern. "Take your time. Breathe."

Feyre coughed and spat, wiping her mouth with the leather on her shoulder. When she finally straightened, her face was pale and streaked with tears, but there was a fierce determination burning in her eyes. "I'm fine," she rasped, her voice hoarse. "It's done."

With a wave of her hand, Amren cleaned both the bile and Feyre, as Rheana winnowed a glass of cold water for her to sip on. The water was a welcome relief, soothing Feyre's parched throat and helping to settle her queasy stomach. She nodded gratefully towards Amren, who had effortlessly banished the mess from the floor. Despite her efforts to appear strong, Feyre's body trembled with exhaustion, each breath she drew seeming to come with effort.

Meanwhile, Rhysand leaned against the wall, arms folded across his chest. His violet eyes roamed over Feyre with an unreadable expression, though a hint of pride flickered within their depths.

"She… detected me somehow," Feyre managed to say, as Rhysand led her to the large black table. "And locked the doors and windows. So I had to climb out through the chimney. I got stuck," Cassian's brows rose at the words, "and when she tried to climb up, I threw a brick at her face."

Rheana snorted, "I would've paid to see that."

Amren glared at Rhysand "And where were you?"

"Waiting, far enough away that she couldn’t detect me." Rhysand said simply.

Feyre was snarling at him, "I could have used some help."

"You survived," he shrugged, and Rheana knew that had Feyre needed help, he would've gone against the Weaver himself, damn the consequences, she felt that through their bond, those tattooed letters on their respective hands. "And found a way to help yourself."

"That’s what this was also about," Feyre spat again. "Not just this stupid ring," She reached into her pocket, slamming the ring she had been carrying all along down on the table, "Or my abilities, but if I can master my panic."

Rheana froze seeing her mother's mating ring, the one around her neck, her father's, seemed to hum at the closeness, those rings were each other's other halves, just like their parents had been to each other.

"What creature is that?" Feyre whispered unceremoniously the next afternoon as Rheana opened the door to her room to let Feyre in, Mor already sitting on her bed, Feyre's eyes on Kallos, the beast sat on a plush chair, licking their scaly paws.

"Don't ask," Rheana said simply, "They are more easily pissed off than Amren." She added as a warning.

Kallos turned their reptilian head, fixing Feyre with a piercing stare from eyes that glinted like polished obsidian. For a moment, the only sound was the soft rustle of scales and fur as the creature shifted their position, muscles rippling beneath their dark hide. Then, in a display of feline-like grace, Kallos unfolded themself from the chair and padded silently over to Feyre, its tail swishing lazily behind it.

Rheana watched closely, ready to intervene if necessary, Kallos hissed softly, ears flattening against their skull as Feyre's gaze settled upon them. The creature's body glittered under the sunlight filtering through the window, a dangerous mix of hues that promised pain and death to those foolish enough to cross them.

Kallos's hiss was low and menacing, yet there was something almost curious about it as if the creature was intrigued rather than wanting to threaten Feyre. Slowly, they approached, their movements deliberate and unhurried. They stopped mere inches away from Feyre, their gaze never leaving hers.

Despite herself, Feyre found herself reaching out tentatively, her fingers hovering just above Kallos's scaly head. "They're beautiful," she whispered, her voice barely audible but the fae heard her loud and clear.

"They can sense your power," Rheana provided with a smile, "Well, we all can, but for them, it's more prominent. And with that complement, I think you earned petting privleges."

Kallos, on instinct, pressed their head in Feyre's hand, making the female smile. The creature seemed to enjoy the attention, closing their eyes and letting out a low purr. Feyre stroked their head gently, careful not to pull too hard on the scaled ears. She marvelled at the intricate patterns on Kallos's skin, the myriad shades of black that shimmered beneath her touch.

The gesture was unexpected, even to Feyre, but she didn't hesitate to respond. Her fingertips traced the contours of Kallos's head, feeling the rough texture of scales beneath her touch. It was an odd sensation, foreign and fascinating all at once.

A purr rumbled from Kallos's chest, vibrations travelling up Feyre's arm and into her shoulder. The sound was deep and resonant, filling the room with a low thrumming noise that seemed to vibrate on the very edges of perception.

"Wait... Is that a map of Prythian?" Feyre asked abruptly, looking at one of the walls, "What are the markers?"

"Just the places I've been." Rheana offered with a gentle smile, "You can travel too, after all of this is over, Rhys could take you."

"What does one wear, exactly, in the human lands?" Mor asked, digging through Rheana's closet.

"Layers," Feyre said, not trying to show her disappointment when Kallos retreated away from her. "They… Cover everything up. The décolletage might be a little daring depending on the event, but... Everything else gets hidden beneath skirts and petticoats and nonsense."

Rheana wrinkled her nose, pulling out a simple linen tunic and breeches. "Sounds dreadful. How do they move? Or breathe?" She tossed the garments aside, rummaging deeper into the closet.

"Sounds like the women are used to not having to run—or fight. I don’t remember it being that way five hundred years ago." Mor added,

"Even with the wall, the threat of faeries remained, so… Surely practical clothes would have been necessary to run, to fight any that crept through. I wonder what changed." Feyre showed them the clothes she had chosen from her closet, a rather simple top and pants.

"I suppose," Feyre mused aloud, holding up the garments for inspection, "that the threat has lessened with time, or perhaps people became complacent. Either way, I imagine it made fashion more about status and appearance than functionality."

Mor rolled her eyes, tossing another outfit onto the pile. "And then there’s the fact that most of the nobility have no intention of ever lifting a finger to defend themselves. Why bother with practicality when you’ve got a court full of soldiers to protect you?"

"True. It’s easier to rely on others when you’re surrounded by wealth and privilege." Rheana nodded thoughtfully, studying the outfits Feyre had selected. "Hey, that'll look so good on you." Rheana paused, noting the way Feyre held surprise in her eyes at the simple compliment she gave her.

"Nowadays, most women wed, bear children, and then plan their children’s marriages. Some of the poor might work in the fields, and a rare few are mercenaries or hired soldiers, but… the wealthier they are, the more restricted their freedoms and roles become. You’d think that money would buy you the ability to do whatever you pleased." Feyre voiced, stepping behind the dressing screen in Rheana's room, while the female used magic to switch her clothes

"Some of the High Fae," Mor spoke up, and Rheana watched her tell the story she had lived through, of Mor's childhood, of her being treated like a prized mare, "are the same."

"The rest of the story is long, and awful, and I’ll tell you some other time. I came in here to say I’m not going with you—to the mortal realm." Mor said after she was done, Rheana placed a hand on her sister's shoulder in silent comfort.

"Because of how they treat women?" Feyre asked, emerging from behind the screen.

"When the queens come, I will be there. I wish to see if I recognize any of my long-dead friends in their faces. But… I don’t think I would be able to… behave with any others." Mor spoke, standing up to slip away, to Hewn City, Rheana knew it.

"Cassian helped Rhys and I get Mor out. Before either had the real rank, Rhys and I getting caught would have been very little punishment, but for Cassian risked everything to make sure Mor stayed out of that court." Rheana spoke as she adjusted her leathers, "And he laughs about it, but he believes he’s a low-born bastard, not worthy of everything he's achieved, I swear, sometimes I want to shake some sense into him but he won't hear any of it," Rheana sighed heavily, running a hand through her hair. "It's infuriating, really. Cassian and Azriel are two of the most loyal, honourable beings I've ever known, and yet they refuse to see how truly exceptional they are."

"I’d like my sisters to meet you and Mor…" Feyre said as she slipped on some bangles, matching with her earrings and diadem, "I want them to hear your story. And know that there is a special strength… A special strength in enduring dark trials and hardships… And still remaining warm, and kind. Still willing to trust—and reach out."

Rheana smiled, "Well, most people wouldn't believe that, but that means more to me than you could possibly know."

"I’m sorry if I was not as welcoming to you as you were to me when I arrived at the Night Court." Feyre said hesitantly as they made their way out. "I was… I’m trying to learn how to adjust."

"No one here blames you if you're a little rough around the edges, you've been through so much, with Under the Mountain, Tamlin, and quite literally dying." Rheana said softly, wrapping an arm around her, "Besides, there have been moments I've been worse, so I don't judge, but I do appreciate you for appologising."

Rheana was clinging to Rhysand, her back was bloodied, three deep black claw marks on her back, she whimpered and winced at every breath. Tears were streaming down her face as she looked at the mutilated, deceased bodies of her mother and little sister, she could sense her father's rage through the land itself.

Rhysand cradled Rheana close, his hands gentle despite the fierce anger burning within him. He gazed down at the ravaged landscape, the once lush forest now scarred and blackened. The acrid stench of smoke and char hung heavy in the air, mingling with the coppery tang of blood.

Rheana was lightheaded, passing out in her brother's arms, not knowing for how long she was passed out, when she woke up, she looked around where she was, in her room, she couldn't remember a thing, until the searing pain in her back was made evident, then the feeling of dread coiled in her stomach, she sobbed as memories flooded back - the attack, the agony, the horror of losing her family. She felt Rhysand's strong arms wrap around her again, his warmth and solid presence grounding her even as despair threatened to consume her.

"It's alright, sister," he murmured, stroking her hair soothingly. "I'm here. We're safe now. You're safe."

But safety felt like a distant dream, a cruel mockery when grief and guilt gnawed at her insides. Rheana pulled away from Rhysand, as sobs wracked her body, each ragged breath a painful reminder of what she'd lost. She only sensed Cassian and Azriel in the room with her when she tried and failed to catch her breath.

"I should have protected them," She choked out, her voice raw with anguish. "I failed them. Failed as a daughter, as a sister… I am a failour."

"Rhea..." Azriel approached her gently, cautious of the darkness that swallowed his friend whole, he had been crying too, of course he was, he and Cassian had lost their mother figures when Rheana and Rhysand lost their mother, their friend when they did their sister, "It's not your fault."

Rheana gripped her hair hard enough to break the strands, "I failed. I couldn't save them." She could feel her dark blood trail down her back, she knew it would never heal, a constant reminder of how big of a failure she was, "What's even the point!?" She screamed, "Of being Carynthian? Of being the first female Illyrian to be considered a warrior, what with other females look up to when I couldn't even keep mine safe! Who will trust me to help stop clipping when I couldn't de a thing to stop my mother and sister's!"

Cassian stepped closer, his expression sombre, his hand reaching out tentatively to touch Rheana's shoulder but she flinched away. Rhysand was struggling, tears down his eyes as he saw his sister in the emotionally vulnerable state she was in, he didn't even know where their father was, though he didn't blame him, he had just lost his mate, he couldn't even imagine how big of a lose that felt, but he needed to help his sister.

"Shhh… It’s not your fault, Rhea," Rhysand soothed her from where he stood, knowing she needed a little distance, his own chest heaving with suppressed emotion. His heart ached for his sister.

"We will make the bastards who did this pay," He vowed fiercely, his eyes blazing with determination. "And you, my fierce and wonderful sister, will not let this define you. You are a survivor. You are strong. And you will honor your family by living, by thriving."

Rhysand's heart shattered seeing Rheana in such immense pain, his brave, brilliant sister reduced to this broken shell. He knelt before her, taking her tear-stained face in his hands.

Rheana got up again, she now held a knife in her hands, Rhysand swore, knowing she pulled it from him, he watched in fright as Rheana tore at her leathers from the knife, "Rhea-" He tried to use his powers to try to hold her mind to calm her, but all he found was darkness, nothing but empty darkness inside her mind.

"I don't deserve it!" Rheana tore at her top, till she was bare-chested, swirls of ink in her skin, marking her Illyrian heritage, Azriel was quick to move, but not quick enough as Rheana brought down the knife over the tattoo that marked her as Carynthian and winner of the Blood Rite. "I don't deserve any title." Azriel snatched the knife away before she could land another strike at herself.

The brothers exchanged a glance, fear etching lines into their faces. Cassian's heart pounded against his ribcage as he watched Azriel wrestle the knife from Rheana's grasp, the sound of steel scraping against flesh making him wince. But even as Azriel struggled to restrain her, the knife continued to glint dangerously, its edge wet with Rheana's blood.

"Rhea, stop!" Rhysand pleaded, his voice cracking with emotion. "Please, you need to come back to us. To me." He reached out, trying to grab her wrist, but she jerked away, her movements frenzied and unpredictable.

Azriel held onto her firmly, his grip unyielding, holding her close to him, while Cassian moved to stand guard, ready to intervene at the slightest provocation.

"I don't deserve to keep my wings..." Rheana gasped heavily, "I couldn't save theirs."

"You listen to me," Rhysand said fiercely, his eyes blazing with intensity. "This is NOT your fault. You are the strongest person I know, Rhea. What happened… It's a tragedy, a nightmare no one should ever endure. But you survived. And you WILL get through this."

He brushed away her tears with his thumbs, his touch feather-light. "Our mother and sister loved you more than anything. They would want you to live, to fight, to honor their memory by being the incredible female you are. Don't let this break you, Rhea. Please. We need you. I need you."

Rheana stared at Rhysand, her eyes searching his face for any sign of deceit or pity. But there was only love and sincerity shining back at her, reflected in the depths of his irises. A single tear slipped down her cheek as she slowly relaxed in Azriel's grip, the tension leaving her body.

Cassian sat down next to her too, his arm a comfort around her waist as he rested her head on her neck, holding her, Rhysand stitched her clothes back up with his magic, smiling when her tattoo healed itself, the marker wasn't something easily lost, holding her to him, the four of them huddled together

The silence was heavy, punctuated only by the occasional sniffle or soft murmur of reassurance. Yet even amidst the sorrow, there was a palpable sense of unity, of strength drawn from their shared bond and the knowledge that they faced this tragedy together.

As exhaustion began to claim Rheana, her eyelids growing heavy, Rhysand scooped her up into his arms, carrying her to the bed. He settled beside her, pulling her close, his heart aching with every shuddering breath she took.

{General Taglist - @nox-ceur @lilah-asteria @paleidiot @dee-writes-smut @adalia-jaycee @anarchiii @alwayshave-faith @minnieoo}

{Flames and Darkness Taglist- @anuttellaa @tuggboatfishin @inloveallthetime}

[climbthemountain2020]

Flame of Autumn - Chapter 23

Part 24/26 | Ao3

Tilly

It was freezing in the human lands, and dirty snow crusted the ground. Tilly wasn’t one to imagine herself above anyone else, but she hated how dull everything looked beyond the wall. She couldn’t imagine how people lived in a world so devoid of color and joy. The wind bit at her through her leathers and cloak, and she held Eris’ hand in hers as they stood near the battle tent, waiting to depart for their own for one final night together before war. Eris was having a hard time taking his eyes off her–not only for the worry of his mate going into battle, but more perhaps for the leathers she was wearing that he’d commissioned for her. They hugged every curve, including the gentle slope of her stomach, now impossible to hide. He’d all but threatened the tanner and blacksmith within an inch of their lives to make her the most reliable, safe, and strong armor possible.

Now, his eyes roved over her, and she rolled hers, gently squeezing his hand as he laughed next to her.

“I can’t help it. I may have walked myself into a corner here.”

“I’ll walk you into a corner if you don’t focus, love.” She ground out amusedly.

“Is that a threat or a promise?” She smacked his chest as she laughed.

The plan had been decided on previously, and everyone was ready for their allotted roles. Eris and Tilly would be joining Jurian in the castle. Their only task would be to find and free Vassa and the women that had been trapped by Koeschi. Eris and Tilly had found rough sketches of the layout of Koeschi’s castle hidden in Beron’s paperwork. Clearly, he’d been making frequent trips to the human lands, and Eris and Tilly had a sneaking suspicion of where they might fight the stores of faebane-coated weapons.

They would need to be quick once they entered the castle, so they’d both made sure to memorize the sketches of the layout, providing an additional copy to Jurian, who was so out of his mind with worry for Vassa that they weren’t sure if it had even made a difference. Technically, the women wouldn’t be freed from Koeschi’s spell until the box containing his soul was damaged and he was dead, so they had no idea the condition they’d be finding them in. Penny and Tamlin would be working with the Valkyries to find and destroy the box, killing Koeschi and setting all the women free. Tilly and Eris just needed to focus on doing their part, and hope everyone else was able to do theirs too. Once they freed the women, they would route back to the Autumn armies, where Tilly would be portalling them into the fray when and where they were least expected to form a surprise attack on Koeschi’s remaining forces.

This would be their final night together before the battle. Once they returned to their tent, they lovingly slipped the leathers off of each other, fingers brushing over skin and kisses pressing against each other. At last, they were warm on their bedroll beneath a mountain of blankets, heated by their bodies and their magic. Though both were confident in their abilities and the outcome, war was war, and they’d held each other close, Eris lightly tracing his elegant fingers over her belly. It was a moment suspended in time where every touch, every word, felt like a goodbye. They lay in the dark, arms and legs twined tightly.

“Even if I had the option to go back and change it, I hope you know I would do it all again exactly the same way to get to you,” Eris mumbled in the dark, barely above a whisper.

“Me too. Every single time.” Tilly let a few of her tears slip down her nose, spilling onto his arm curled beneath her head. “I love you, Eris.”

“And I love you, Matilda.” He shuffled down their bedroll, his fingers finding her hips in the flickering candlelight. He pressed his lips to the space right below her navel. “And I love you, littlest one. Keep your mother safe for me tomorrow, hm?” Tilly’s eyes flooded with tears and emotion, spilling over from both within her heart and from Eris down the bond. They would be brave tomorrow, and they would give everything for a new and better world.

They had something more than worth fighting for.

+++

Eris, Tilly, and Jurian had taken off with the Valkyries before the moon was even entirely across the sky, moving under cover of darkness to get closer to the castle for their surprise entry. They hoped Koeschi would be too distracted by the start of the battle to notice or even care about the intrusion, and Vassa had let them know months ago he’d likely be waiting on the top turret to watch the incoming armies and supervise. They’d planned to enter through a little-traveled back entrance, covered in overgrowth and vines that would bring them into the lower kitchens near the tunnels. Koeschi kept the women locked in rooms in a lower hallway–not quite a dungeon, but with barred doors and windows nonetheless. They hoped to find a key and avoid expending unnecessary magic, but Tilly would be able to use the portals if they needed to.

The castle was quiet on their approach as they split from the Valkyries. Beron’s notes had detailed that the castle was much like the House of Wind–no staff and fully serviced by magic, so at the very least they wouldn’t need to worry about being stumbled upon. Eris and Jurian took the front, careful to check around corners before proceeding, just in case. Tilly was rounding up the back, ensuring that they weren’t being trailed or attracting any unwanted attention. They could see through the windows that the sun had just begun to rise, the skies becoming pale and gray, and they could hear the sounds of war in the distance. They’d timed it perfectly.

As they turned down the last hall, Tilly took in the surroundings. The deep set stone walls were old, almost eroded down to a sandy dullness with time. The doors lined both sides of the halls, the low light spilling through the bars and into the dark hallway.

“Eris, Jurian, do you see any key hooks?” She whispered low. She hadn’t seen any on the way in, and it didn’t appear that there were any down the long, straight hall. She worried that they’d need to move quickly. She had her portals, but she didn’t like places with only one exit.

“Nothing at this end.”

“Here, either. Portals it is.” Jurian was going around and looking into the doors to find Vassa, whose head popped up all the way down at the end. Eris and Tilly averted their eyes to give Jurian and moment to reunite in privacy, then Tilly was marking which rooms were occupied. The women inside–some human, some fae, some other–all looked pale and exhausted, some more capable of standing than others, and all looking terrified.

“It’s okay, we’re here to help you. Are you chained within the rooms?” The woman in the room Tilly looked into shook her head.

“Only Vassa remains chained. The rest of us are just locked in.” Tilly nodded, passing the message back to Eris and Jurian and instructing Eris to see if the shackles on Vassa were something he could break.

“How many of you are there?” The woman shook her head, long blonde locks shifting back and forth as she stared at Tilly with wide eyes.

“At least twelve of us, I think. Some have…some didn’t make it.” Tilly’s heart clenched. “Are you truly here to save us? This isn’t a trick?” At that, Tilly’s heart cleaved in two.

“We’re here to save you. The armies of Prythian are outside to wage war against Koeschi once and for all.” The relief in the woman’s eyes was almost enough to knock Tilly over. “Are you human?” The woman nodded. “Okay, I am going to use magic to get to you. I need you to be brave, okay? Can you trust me?” Another nod, and Tilly was casting her portal through to the room, peeking through the circle of fire to see the woman without the bars. “Come, step through.”

Tilly thought she saw the woman muster her bravery one last time before walking up on dirty, bare feet to the portal and stepping through into the hall. Tilly grabbed her hands in her own.

“You did wonderfully. Now, can you help me with the others?” One by one, Tilly methodically went down the line and gently explained to each girl what was happening, then released them from their rooms while Eris fought to help Vassa break her chains, Jurian watching on worriedly. Once all the women were freed and in the hallway, looking around in apprehension and blossoming hope, Tilly turned back to Eris.

“Any luck?”

“No, they aren’t faebane shackles, but they’re holding tight. They don’t seem magical, just incredibly strong. Resistant to flame and we’ve had no luck picking them. Any ideas?”

Vassa spoke up. “Listen, every moment we spend here, we are risking everyone. Tilly, can you take the women to the place where they’ll be safe, then come back? We’ll work on solutions while you’re gone.” Tilly nodded, turning back to the women.

“We’ve got a safe place for you with other females who have been through something similar. We’re going to bring you there while we all help to track down your families. You have my word that you’ll be kept kindly and not against your will. You can leave at any time.” The group looked around amongst themselves, and everyone seemed to come to the agreement they could trust her.

She pressed a kiss to Eris’ cheek then opened a portal as large as a door for the women to step through, straight to the River House of Velaris. It had been agreed upon at the summit that there would need to be a place to keep these women who had suffered so much while they found their way home, to whatever that may be for them going forward. Rhysand and Feyre had offered the library of Velaris, where they were already providing a program for females who had suffered similar traumas to recover. Tilly would deliver the women to the River House, already having been given permission through the wards by Rhysand, and the women would stay with Rhysand and Feyre’s housekeepers and Lucien’s mate until everyone returned and could move them. They’d have a chance to eat and sleep and wash in the meantime; for some, it might be their first glimpse of freedom in years.

Tilly held the portal open as they filtered through, turning to wink at Eris before stepping through.

“Back soon, love.”

Eris

Eris had never dealt with chains quite like the ones holding Vassa to the wall. They were long enough that she could walk across the room easily, but the shackles on her wrists were huge, heavy and detailed. It was clear that Koeschi favored her, and Eris knew he wouldn’t be letting her go as easily as the others. That wrongness slid over him, his brain trying and failing to tell him that something was wrong.

“Aren’t you supposed to be a bird, Vassa?” She shot him a look.

“He hasn’t had me changing since I returned. He’s been preoccupied–it's been strange. Not at all like it was before. He used to get some sick joy from torturing the other women and I, coming at strange hours, demanding we eat with him. Or worse.” Her eyes were haunted and Eris could practically feel the rage pouring off Jurian. “Since I’ve been back, he’s been distant. Not unhappy, but distracted.”

That nagging feeling began to creep down the back of Eris’ neck.

Could Koeschi have known their plan? Why would he let them come here? If he’d known they would come, why wouldn’t he have had better guards at the castle?

Eris felt like the answer was right behind his eyes, floating just barely within his periphery, but the unease was turning to panic and his instincts screamed at him that they needed to get out, and quickly. Tilly came back through the portal carrying a wrought-iron fire poker, shutting the fiery gate behind her.

“No luck?” Everyone shook their heads with wide eyes aimed at the poker.

“I figured. Vassa, can you trust me?”

“Goodness, what a loaded question.”

“I’m going to break the shackles; it’s not the best solution, but I don't have a better plan.” Vassa sighed, Jurian looked like his heart might stop, but Eris was already telling Vassa to hold the chains out, reading Tilly’s intentions. She portalled inside the room, leaving it open for Eris and Jurian to step through, then looking to Vassa. “I’ll be as careful as I can.” Vassa nodded, holding her hands up against the stone wall so that the chains draped along it with Eris’ help. Before anyone could suggest otherwise, Tilly swung the poker with all her weight at the chains. They clunked painfully loud against the walls, the shock reverberating through the room. The chains had bent but not broken.

“Okay, again.” But they all drew up and stopped, a noise from just beyond the hall like the scuffing of feet. Eris and Tilly’s eyes shot to each other, and without further warning Tilly was swinging, again and again, hitting the chains as they bent and warped and finally broke. The footsteps had become swifter and were approaching fast.

“Come on!” Tilly conjured a portal to the woods, throwing it open and all but shoving Vassa and Jurian through.

Eris ducked through, standing back and holding a hand out to Tilly as the figure stepped around and into the hallway. He was dressed in all black, a velvet cloak draped down over his shoulder and back. There was a wrongness about him, a blurring around the edges that made him seem otherworldly and out of place. The rage on his face as he realized what was happening was all-encompassing, the fury sweeping through the room as his lips parted in a scream.

“Tilly!” Eris screamed, dragging her through the portal to the other side and yanking her hand back so it would shut behind them. The roar that echoed behind them through the portal shuttered as the portal clanked shut, and they could hear it from a distance now as it vibrated out from the castle, a great wave exploding up from the lake. They’d landed in the woods as intended with the spare armies of Autumn, waiting and ready for their command. They’d pointed Vassa and Jurian to the healing tent, then began to organize.

“You’re okay? Not too tired?” Eris was beginning to worry for Tilly and the amount of magic she’d been casting since they arrived, but to her credit, she didn’t look tired.

“I’m alright. Not too tired yet. Something feels wrong, though. Why wasn’t the castle guarded more thoroughly?”

“I had the same thought. But what could Koeschi be trying to accomplish by letting us in? He seemed furious to see we’d taken his prisoners.”

“Yes, well, he’s the sort of man who likes to be in control. No wonder he and Beron got on so well; they both need the most power–”

“Power. Shit, he wants more power. He knows about Penny.” Suddenly, the escape seemed to make more sense. He wasn’t protecting the castle, he was biding his time. He wanted Penny. “We’ve got to make sure they get that box before he gets to them.”

They turned to survey the army around them, as Eris reached into the pocket between worlds to grab her bow, wreathing himself in flames. She looked to the armies–their armies–as she cast her fire over it.

“At the ready!” He shouted to the males, taking one more look at Tilly. “Ready when you are, love.” She smiled, throwing the largest portal she could summon. “Forward!” As he and the foot soldiers went through the flames, he could see the human armies attempting to push the Valkyries back. “To the water!” As the remainder of the soldiers stepped through and began the push forward, Tilly dropped from the sky above them, wreathed in flame, the absolute picture of Autumn.

Pulling her bowstring back as he unsheathed his sword to the horror of the humans, Eris and Tilly smiled at each other and pushed forward.

Tilly

The fight had started hard and fast and hadn’t stopped or slowed since. Tilly was covered in blood and dirt and other substances that her pregnant stomach didn’t want to think too hard on. She and Eris were repeatedly separated in the melee, but she knew through the bond he was alive. Every bit of her focus had gone to fighting. Draw the bow, shoot. Remove the dagger, throw. Take out the sword, strike, parry, fight. She became singularly-focused, and she tried to fuel herself by imagining that this was what she could have done against Hybern. She couldn’t have saved her father, but here, she could save people.

Killian and Cormac had been somewhere in the converging armies of Autumn, and she’d met eyes with both of them at one point. There was so much red hair flying in a blur around her, it was impossible to tell anyone apart from the next. In a moment of breath, she spun to catch a glimpse of Eris, but she’d let her guard down just a second too long as a fae from Hybern winnowed in. She saw him in her periphery the second his sword shot out to break straight through her arm, but it was too late to parry. She felt the sharp sting and then shooting pain as she lunged back, effectively pulling it out as she swung madly and managed to strike straight across the fae’s shocked face. She didn’t even give him a moment to wipe the blood from his eyes or register what had happened before she swung again and cleaved his head from his shoulders, her breathing coming out in pants as she grabbed at her shoulder.

Tourniquet. I need a tourniquet.

She took the leather ribbon from her hair, quickly winding it around her arm and tying it off tightly with her teeth. She shot small bursts of her healing power out, trying to conserve it as much as she could while still staunching the flow of the bleeding.

A deafening roar sounded from behind her so loudly it shook the very sand at the edge of the lake. She knew without having to turn that the ground-shaking booms echoing behind her were the steps of her husband. When she tipped her head back to look up, his glittering amber eyes looked down from far above her, surrounded by the shimmering darkness of his scales. She grinned up at him.

“I’m alright. Let’s go.” She heard more than saw his deep breath in, as Eris released a stream of fire into the incoming enemy troops, scalding them all as she shot her fire behind, guarding his back and incinerating the approaching line. Autumn soldiers spread as instructed, pressing the enemy battalions in as Tilly and Eris reduced line after line of them to ash. There were massive flares of magic from all around them, one so bright and stunning that she knew a High Lord must have expended a huge amount of power. She couldn’t look–she could only focus on what was in front of her. She was growing tired, and she could feel through the bond that Eris was, too, but they were coming to the end. The last of the Autumn soldiers came in to force the remainder of the enemy forces towards them as Tilly forced the dregs of her fire out and then slumped back into Eris’ warm side. Around them, the battles were dying down; a shift had occurred.

Eris shifted back to his fae form, panting and holding Tilly up to him. They were still near the lake, the bodies around them that hadn’t been incinerated were piled high. Autumn hadn’t suffered nearly the losses of Hybern and the human armies, but she could see in the faces of the soldiers that everyone was on the verge of collapse. Autumn had given all they had, and for the first time in her life, Tilly felt proud to be a part of her own court.

The armies of Autumn converged around them, she and Eris gripping each other, the flames still surrounding them burning low. A soldier, one of their generals, came forward from the ranks, removing his helmet and setting it on the ground before them before plunging his sword into the ground and taking a knee.

“High Lord. High Lady.” Tilly didn’t have the energy to correct him, but the pride that swelled down the bond was surely not her own. One by one, the soldiers of Autumn took a knee, and “High Lord, High Lady” echoed back through the masses. Tilly could do nothing but lean against Eris, her mouth parted and her eyes beginning to water as she tried to stiffen her lip.

She felt Eris lean in and press his lips to her ear, his voice hoarse and low. “I would say you’ve earned it.”

And Tilly felt the power shift in her veins.

Taglist (lomls): @cauldronblssd @queercontrarian @byyalady @thelovelymadone @clockwork-ashes @lovingkelj @lilah-asteria

[theostrophywife]

Can I request an Az X Reader? Some random court attacks the Night Court and the IC is just fighting against the intruders, and after the fight Az says the whole "who did this to you?" 🥹 🛐

who did this to you?

author's note: i love this concept! you know i had to make it enemies to lovers with a little sprinkle of scarlet witch aesthetic for good measure.

“How much longer is this going to take?” Azriel asked.

“Do you have something better to do?” you scoffed. 

You frowned as you hovered beside the shadowsinger and sent a pulse of your power through the protective barrier surrounding Velaris. The thread of scarlet magic crackled around the invisible force field, prodding and testing for weak spots. Earlier that night, you’d woken up from a dream that someone was attempting to invade the city you called home. Anyone else would have just written it off as a nightmare if it weren’t for the fact that your dreams often came true. 

You informed the High Lord right away and he rallied the rest of the inner circle back at the River House. Rhys and Cassian were currently patrolling the eastern side of the city while Feyre and Mor flanked the western side. Amren, Nesta, and the Valkyries were stationed at each quarter of the palaces, leaving only Azriel to accompany you to the edge of the Sidra. 

Needless to say, the shadowsinger wasn’t exactly thrilled to be woken up in the middle of the night and even less so when Rhys tasked him with accompanying you to the barrier. To be fair, you weren’t all that enthralled with the idea either. You’d much rather have Cassian or Feyre or literally anyone else in the inner circle join you, but your magic combined with Azriel’s shadows would be able to cover more of the barrier than any other pair. The shadowsinger knew this fact perfectly well, but he still acted like it was a huge inconvenience to be out here with you. 

Since Rhysand welcomed you into the fold, Azriel has always had a problem with you. In the beginning, you tried your best to befriend him, but you couldn't seem to break through his icy exterior no matter how hard you tried. Eventually, you just told yourself to ignore the loaded stares and heavy sighs your presence seemed to coax out of the Illyrian warrior. Not everyone was going to like you and you'd accepted Azriel's aversion towards you, but it was still highly irritating given the fact that you hadn’t done anything to earn such a reaction.

“Do you even know what we’re supposed to be looking for?” Azriel states condescendingly while his shadows swarmed the invisible wall. 

You spun mid-air, hands hovering by your hips to keep you airborne. On any other day, you would have let his attitude roll right off your shoulders, but enough was enough. You were equally as displeased with the current arrangement and highly stressed from the possible threat, but you weren't taking it out on Azriel.

“What is your problem with me?”

Azriel’s wings flared behind him as he turned to face you. “I never said I had a problem with you.” 

“You don’t have to say it when it’s written all over your face.” Something unreadable flashed through his hazel eyes. He opened his mouth, then closed it again. You sighed. “Forget it. This isn’t the time to discuss this anyways. Just do me a favor and let me know if your shadows find anything. A gap, a hole, any indication that the barrier has been compromised.”

The shadowsinger nodded as you floated further down the barrier. Scarlet wisps of your power returned to your fingertips, unable to find anything during the initial search. The feeling of dread that washed over you in the midst of your dream was so raw and visceral that you kept on prodding despite the fact that nothing seemed to be amiss. To your right, Azriel pushed at the shimmering barrier with brute force. 

Out of the corner of your eye, you spotted it. A metallic pin no bigger than a needle protruding from a nearly nonexistent gap in the wall. As the shadowsinger moved closer to it, you screamed. 

"Azriel!"

Hurtling through the sky, you shot straight into Azriel and sent the both of you careening through the clear skies. A second later, a deafening explosion lit up the horizon while dark wings shielded you from the blast. To your surprise, the Illyrian warrior grasped you in his arms protectively and held on tightly while shards of metal rained down from the sky. Your gazes met for a brief second before your ears started ringing. 

His mouth was moving, but you couldn't make out what he was saying. You shook your head, gesturing to your ears to indicate that you couldn't hear.

Azriel swiped his thumb against your ear and blanched when his fingertips came back covered in blood. The world seemed to tip on its own axis as you wiped away the blood running down your cheek. A tinny sound echoed within you before Rhysand’s voice crackled through your consciousness. 

“What the hell was that?” asked the High Lord. 

You blinked and saw Rhys hovering over you with Cassian at his side. The Sidra glittered to your right as Azriel set you down. You hadn’t even realized that he’d flown you to safer ground. The shock of the explosion was still rippling through your senses. 

“Are either of you hurt?” Cassian prompted with concern. 

“No, she caught it just in time. Practically tackled me out of harm’s way. I’m fine, but her ear is bleeding pretty badly. Must have ruptured it from the blast,” Azriel murmured as he wiped at your ear with a small cloth. 

You swatted his hand away. “I’m fine. It’ll heal. I need to close the gap before anyone gets through.” 

Just then, a whizzing sound scraped through the air. You looked up and found a horde of harpies charging at the barrier. Each hybrid that flew by was more terrifying than the last. The top half of each creature was partially human save for the feathered wings protruding from their backs, but the lower half was purely vulture. They clawed at the entrance with their sharp talons and every slice rippled through the protective magic surrounding Velaris. 

“Like hell you’re going up there,” Azriel said. 

You pulled yourself to standing and glared at him. “It’s my job to make sure the gate is secure. Besides, you’re going to need my help against the harpies. I'm the only one who has experience fighting their kind. They're nasty creatures, but they can be killed."

The shadowsinger stubbornly turned towards Rhysand who gave his brother a pointed look. “She’s right, Az. We need her skills on the battlefield.” 

Azriel didn’t look pleased, but merely nodded. He barely gave you a second glance before saying, “You’re with me then. We’ll take the eastern side.” 

He shot into the sky and you soon followed after. A blanket of your magic projected over the both of you as you and Azriel broke through the barrier. The harpies hissed as you shot through the air, sending blasts of your power to knock them back.

Azriel stalked for their first line of defense with lethal speed while you summoned a sword in your hand. As you glided through the sky, you cut down harpy after harpy with acute precision. One of them darted towards you at breakneck speed, but you pivoted and buried your blade into its back. 

Blood as dark as night splattered all over your dark hooded cloak, but you paid no mind to it as you continued to fight. The harpies may have brute force on their side, but you were quick and lithe, cutting through the monstrous creatures like ribbons of flesh. You led the harpies to an open field just outside the protective barrier, luring them into an environment that was more advantageous for your style of combat. 

Azriel landed right beside you and a knowing look passed between you, warrior to warrior. The shadowsinger flipped Truth-teller in his hand while you conjured two short swords in your hands. Back to back, you continued to battle against the would-be invaders. 

As another harpy fell to your feet, a High Fae male stepped out of the shadows. The cruel smile and sharp features sent a shiver down your spine. Like a demon out of hell, the male's black eyes haunted you. Before you stood Anthrin - the only living kin of the King of Hybern.

Anthrin's cold, empty gaze survey you with disgust. “The Darkstar,” he says with a sneer. “I have heard of your immense power and yet you waste it by protecting the weak. Is this what Prythian has reduced you to, witch?”

“Anthrin,” you say with venom laced in your voice. “What do you want?” 

Even across the seas, everyone knew of the cruel, sadistic male. The ruthless prince who once enslaved and hunted humans for sport. It was fair to say that Dagdan and Brannagh took after their horrid father. 

Anthrin smiled, but the action didn’t meet his eyes. His stare was hollow and vacant, void of any emotion. “Justice. Vengeance. Retribution,” his expressionless gaze sent a shiver down your spine. “I want Rhysand’s whore to pay for butchering my children.” 

Your grip tightened around the hilt of your weapons. “My High Lady did the entire realm a favor by ending your abominable son and daughter. They got what they deserved.” 

The look Anthrin gave you was one of pure malice. “So will you and your beloved city, witch.”

The male charged at you with a broadsword in hand. You blocked the blow with an upward swing of your blade and slid to your knees across the hard ground. Dirt scraped against your leathers as Anthrin spun to dart towards you again, but you were too fast. 

The heavy onyx cloak tied around your neck fell to the jagged terrain as you went on the offensive. You charged at him with careful, calculated strikes that push him further and further away from the barrier. He met your blows with equal force. Anthrin’s sword required a two-handed grip, but the male was strong and relentless. 

The dance between you was one of pure strategy. Anthrin was both bigger and stronger, but the more energy he expended, the slower his movements were. You made sure to use that to your advantage. The short swords you wielded came down on him blow after blow and the male struggled to shield himself from your attacks. 

You withheld one of them and sent a blast of your power to his side and Anthrin staggered as it hit his right leg. 

“You little bitch,” he spat, clutching at the singed fabric of his trousers. 

Anthrin lurched toward you, his sword singing against yours as magic met steel. A jolt went through your arm as the force of the blow pushed you back. The vile male took the opportunity to yank you by the wrist, pulling you down to the ground and driving his knee against your ribs. 

With the air knocked out of you, a trickle of blood splattered in the ground while you spit out the metallic taste coating your tongue. You clutched your side, growling in anger as your eyes glowed with scarlet magic. Anthrin had the good sense to appear terrified, retreating back to where the rest of the harpies were gathered. 

Azriel looked up as you hovered above them, his dagger driving into the side of one of your enemies without even looking in its direction. He broke off into a sprint before launching himself into the skies. 

“Need a lift?” He asked, gesturing down to where Anthrin was reconvening with his creatures. 

You nodded and Azriel grabbed both of your hands, dangling you in mid-air while he flew at breakneck speed. He swung you underneath him and sent you careening through the horizon as you rained hellfire down on Anthrin and his troops. 

You flew alongside Azriel as the harpies began to attack from above. The leader of the pack dove straight for your direction and you braced yourself to block the sharp talons from scraping through you, but a dark shadow struck the harpy before it could reach you. 

“Don’t fucking touch her.” Azriel growled as he rammed into the creature. 

You staggered back in surprise, but quickly regained your bearings to focus on the incoming group. Magic surged through your hands as you summoned a crimson wave of your killing power over the creatures. 

One by one, they dropped like flies until the High Fae male was the only one remaining. Azriel tossed you to the ground and you quickly rolled through the air, swinging your blade down before Anthrin could even blink. The scarlet sword pierced right through him and he fell with a loud thud at your feet. 

At the fall of their master, the harpies dispersed and began fleeing in fear. Azriel took off to the skies and eliminated the last of the stragglers while you flew up to the barrier and repaired the hole that the invaders left. 

You ran a hand through the force field and scarlet magic rippled through you in waves as your power knit together the hole that was blown through the wall. In the distance, you could see Rhys and Cas flying towards you. Fuzzy white noise rang in your ears while you kept your eyes on the horizon. 

Just as the barrier locked in place, you felt the sky shift beneath your feet as though the world was spinning off its axis. With your power drained, you wobbled backwards and careened through the clouds. As your eyes fluttered closed, you could hear a familiar voice screaming your name over and over again. 

The voice didn’t belong to the High Lord or the General. Instead, it was the Azriel’s pleads cutting through the air. The raw desperation was unlike anything you’ve ever heard out of the shadowsinger. 

Before you could plummet into the Sidra, strong arms wrapped around your back and legs, carrying you to safety. 

“It’s alright,” Azriel murmured softly. “I’ve got you.”

The last thing you remembered before blacking out was the sunrise painting his eyes golden while he looked down at you. 

You weren’t sure how much time had passed since the battle at the Sidra, but it was dark when you finally woke up. The large glass windows at the House of Wind reflected the starry skies outside as you craned your neck to see. A dull ache throbbed at the back of your head, which always occurred when you’d expended too much of your power in a short amount of time. 

You blinked as a shadow curled through your wrist, its cool touch snaking through your limbs with careful assessment. It seemed satisfied with whatever it found as it traveled across the room. Perched on a velvet reading chair, Azriel rubbed his eyes and perked up as his shadow returned to him. He listened for its report before turning his gaze back to you. 

“You’re awake.” 

You grimaced, fully feeling the aftermath of the battle in your battered body. “How long have I been out?” 

“Two days.” 

From the looks of it, Azriel had been sleeping in that chair for just as long. His clothes were rumpled and his hair was sticking up in a dozen different directions as though he’d been tossing and turning in the tiny chair.

You slowly sat upright, wincing as the action placed weight on your aching ribs. Azriel was beside you in a flash, carefully guiding you to lean back on the pillows for support. The shadowsinger scanned your face and perched himself on the mattress. 

“You scared the hell out of me,” he says softly. “You shouldn’t have used up all of your power like that.” 

You frowned, crossing your arms. “I was only doing my job.” 

Azriel leveled a stubborn gaze at you. “Not at the expense of your own well-being. Madja said that if you expended any more magic, you would’ve run yourself dry.” 

“I’m fine,” you respond with resolution. 

To ensure the shadowsinger, you leaned forward to sit up on your own, but your own stubbornness backfired as pain shot up through your side. 

Azriel gripped your arm gently. “What’s wrong?” 

Instinctively, your hand ran along your ribs and you winced at even the slightest touch. The shadowsinger wrapped his fingers around your wrist and set it on his lap. 

“May I? I need to see if Madja needs to look at you again.” 

You nod silently. With careful consideration, Azriel lifted up the hem of your shirt. The Illyrian warrior sucked in a sharp intake of breath as he beheld the large purple bruise covering the majority of your side. With heat blazing in those hazel eyes of his, the rage within him was barely contained as he gritted his teeth. 

“Who did this to you?” His voice was calm and deathly silent, but the lethal promise of his wrath carried in every word. 

The reaction was entirely perplexing. Azriel had never shown care towards you, but then you remembered the flash of anger on his face while he growled at the harpy for trying to attack you. You weren't sure what to make of it. Surely, there was a perfect explanation for his odd behavior. Perhaps he was just angry that you’d let an enemy get close enough to hurt you. 

“It doesn’t matter,” you say, shying away from his touch. 

Azriel refused to break eye contact. “It does matter,” he says gruffly. “It matters to me.” 

You frowned. “Go on then, tell me how careless I was to allow Anthrin to inflict such damage. I’m sure you’re dying to tell me how insufficient my skills are.” 

Azriel’s gaze softened. “Is that what you think I’m angry about?” 

“What else would it be?” 

The shadowsinger furrowed his brows. “That piece of shit is the last thing I care about. I’d rip him to shreds if you hadn’t already done it yourself,” he took a deep breath to calm himself. “I’m angry because I wasn’t able to protect you. I’m angry because you give and you give without any consideration to how it may affect you.” 

“Why do you care?” 

Azriel chuckled, his humorless laugh bouncing off the walls. “Haven’t you figured it out yet, sweetheart?”

He moved closer and you felt yourself drawn to him, mesmerized by the ardorous look on his face. Azriel rarely showed any emotion, so to see him overcome with such fervent passion was a brand new experience.

“Are you that entirely blind to how I feel about you?” 

You swallowed thickly. “I - I don’t understand. You can’t even stand to be around me. I thought you hated me.” 

Azriel grazed your cheek with his fingertips. “I have never hated you. I only hated myself for not having the courage to tell you how I felt.” 

Your voice is barely a whisper as you gaze into his eyes. “How do you feel, Azriel?” 

The shadowsinger grabs your hand and places it over his chest. You could feel his heart beating erratically underneath your palm. “I feel like I’ve lived nearly five centuries just waiting for you. It’s almost as though I’ve been holding my breath until the moment you came into my life and showed me what it’s like to have the wind knocked out of my lungs.”

Your chest tightened at his words. You were all too familiar with that feeling because you felt it every time he looked at you. At first, you thought it was just pure loathing, but you knew that if you truly hated Azriel, you wouldn't be this affected by his presence or care whether or not he liked you. The feelings you had for the shadowsinger were complicated, but they were definitely strong. The verdict was still out on whether they were good or bad. 

They always said that there was a fine line between love and hate. As you met Azriel's gaze, you couldn't differentiate which side you were teetering towards.

“When you fell, every opportunity I had to tell you the truth flashed before my eyes. In all honesty, it was easier to let you believe that I despised you than open myself up to the possibility of rejection. But then, you were unconscious for nearly two days and the thought of losing you killed me. I don’t care about rejection anymore. You can say that you’d never reciprocate my feelings towards you and I’d respect that, but I am done holding it in.” 

He stood, putting space between you. “I am sorry for how I’ve treated you. For pushing you away when you made every effort to be my friend.” Regret flashed through his features and your chest tightened. “I have always known that I wanted to be more than that to you. Maybe I didn’t go about it in the best way, but there it is.” 

For the first time since you met him, Azriel looked uneasy. The cool demeanor slipped away and you saw nothing but sincerity in his eyes. He lowered his gaze, slowly backing away from the bed. 

“I understand if you need time to process all of it. I know you’re recovering, but I promised myself that I’d tell you the minute you woke up.” He shifted his weight to one foot with uncertainty. “I can go if you wish.”

Azriel turned, but you caught him by the wrist. His gaze dipped down to your hand and you noticed the way he clocked the lack of hesitation in your grip as you slipped your delicate fingers through his scarred ones. 

“Stay.” 

The word stretched between you. Azriel softened, linking his fingers in yours as you scooted over to make room for him on the bed. He leaned against the headboard and you turned, slightly grimacing from the movement. Azriel instantly wrapped his arm around your waist to support you. 

“Can we start over?” you asked softly. “I’d like to get to know you, Azriel. The real you. Starting tonight.” 

There was so much hope swimming in his eyes that your heart fluttered at the sight. 

“I think I’d really like that,” he whispers tenderly. 

[cafeinthemoon]

Unexpected Changes - Part II

Chapter 2/2

Wordcount 3,1k

Title Part II

Fandom Shuumatsu no Valkyrie / Record of Ragnarok

Pairing Hades X reader

Previous chapter

1

Symbols ✔ . ➕ . 💛

Warnings: none, just comedy and family fluff!

Tagging: ? (If you want to be tagged in any of my stories, just leave a comment here or send an ask or a message)

You and Hades stared at each other, then at the man on the chair, waiting for an explanation, which he gave to you after a deep sigh.

– I can’t believe this was your first idea, Hades-san. We just need to look at y/n-san to see that she’s not cursed. Even less sick – and, turning to you, – I’d even say she’s healthier than the previous times I’ve seen her.

While Hades was trying to process the intriguing response from the other god, you sensed a bubbling in your stomach, but that time it had nothing to do with nausea: you were aware that you’ve been quiet for too long, and though you were still afraid, you knew that if you didn’t speak for yourself, this confusion would never end.

You gathered all your courage and opened your mouth.

– But, Beelzebub-sama… – you startled when Beelzebub’s eyes stopped on you, but didn’t give up – These changes I’ve sensed are not product of my imagination. I’m really experiencing alterations in my sleeping and eating schedule, and there’s no apparent reason for them. And, to use Poseidon-sama’s words, it’s like something is stealing my energies, forcing my body to restock them. What kind of thing would cause this if not a curse or sickness?

The Lord of the Flies’ response was to turn to a drawer beside his table, at his leg’s height, and take two small objects out of it: when he turned back to you, you saw he had a medical needle and a tiny strap in hands.

Without the slightest sign of impatience, he stood up and approached you. You had to fight the impulse of stepping back when he stopped before you. Hades was following everything, but made no effort to interrupt – this was his level of trust in that man, then.

– Y/n-san, can you show me one finger? – Beelzebub raised the hand holding the needle – There’s something I want to show to both of you, but I need a blood sample first.

You had no idea of what he intended to show, but if it was going to solve this mystery, you’d accept his methods. You gave him a hesitant hand.

– It’s not going to hurt – he held your index finger and pressed the tip of the needle on it – Just some drops are enough.

Indeed, the procedure was so fast that you didn’t have the time to feel the sting. When the needle came out from your skin, your fingertip was left with a small, red dot on the pierced spot; you rubbed it and confirmed the absence of pain.

Hades and you observed in silence as Beelzebub took the collected material to the table and gathered a small test tube and some strange substances from bottles he kept inside a drawer in desk on the other side of the room. He came back with two or three colored flasks, moistened the strap with your blood, then put it inside the tube and started mixing the substances in it with the help of a thin, disposable stick.

He was so concentrated in this task that he didn’t notice the growing tension provoked by the questions he made while working.

– You didn’t say anything about it, y/n-san, but you’ve probably been experiencing other symptoms besides the ones you just described, right?

– Ah… yes – you stuttered.

– And does these symptoms include hypersensitivity to physical and mental stimulation?

– I… Yes, I think.

– And then, sensations of dizziness, nausea and occasional vomit?

You glanced at your husband, who already had a pair of worried eyes on you, and confirmed this supposition too.

– Let me guess – Beelzebub continued, without raising his eyes from the tube – They use to happen in the mornings?

Again, a positive answer. When Hades inquired you about this, you explained that it’s been happening long after he left the room.

– I would go back to bed and stay there until all the discomfort disappear from my stomach. Sometimes, I’d end up sleeping again, but most of the times I’d able to leave the room and carry on with my day.

– I see – he deliberated – And is this everything? Isn’t there other things causing you discomfort apart from what you said?

– No, I swear.

Your husband made no other questions, but you knew he was disappointed just by looking into his eyes. You tried not to think too much about it, for you would have time to discuss it later, in private. And, to be honest, you were disappointed with yourself too, which only made things worse.

An effervescent sound coming from Belzeebub’s table interrupted your thoughts. When you turned to it, saw him standing up and approaching you again to show you the results of the experiment. Now, the mixture inside the test tube has changed into a glowing, violet shade, with a lilac foam on its surface.

The scientist-god raised the tube at his eyes height, with a discreet smile of triumph. You always thought he had nothing but seriousness in him, but there he was, not hiding his diversion with all of this.

Now, Hades seemed more anxious about it than yourself, his eyes glued on the substance as if it contained your fate – which, in a certain way, it did.

– Well, I already knew it, but having a proof is always better – Beelzebub shook the fluid inside the tube, admiring the variations in its color.

– So… what does this proof mean? – your husband inquired.

– Beelzebub-sama… – you mumbled with your fingers crossed – Please, tell us…

Beelzebub took the tube out of his sight, as to gather your attention to what he was about to announce.

– Y/n-san, there’s really no curse over you. Instead, what you have here might be called a blessing for many couples – his black eyes calmly alternated between you two as he spoke – This purple shade you’re seeing represents a hormonal change you’ve been experiencing for at least three weeks, which is the responsible for all the symptoms. To summarize, within a few months, your family is going to grow.

Both you and Hades held your breath with the news. You turned to your husband and found him staring at you in ecstatic silence, in a way you’ve only seen in the most important occasions of your life together: when he proposed to you, when you arrived at the Underworld with him and when you had your first night. He was the first of you to bring up the possibility of parenting, but you thought you should wait until your bonds were strong enough to succeed in such task; it’s been a few decades since you talked about it, but you knew Hades never forgot the idea.

And now it was a reality. And you were, above all, scared.

– I’m… I’m expecting?! – you put your hands on your belly and turned back to Beelzebub, who has been observing you in silence – We’re going to have a baby?!

– Yes – he replied, unfazed – I’m really surprised that you had no suspicions until this moment, y/n-san. As far as I know, these are the basic symptoms of the human pregnancy.

You shrugged in embarrassment.

– Yes, I know, but… I supposed it would be different now that I’m no longer human… I never really thought about it.

The Lord of the Flies went back to the table and left the test tub upon it.

– You’re a deity with a female, humanoid physical constitution, y/n-san – he commented – No great changes should be expected in your conception process… or so I believe.

Your heart jumped inside your chest with those words.

– What… do you mean, Beelzebub-sama?

The man turned to you with an enigmatic smile that would feel less creepy if you saw it in someone else’s face.

– Well, you know, there are so many curious cases of conception in your pantheon. Aphrodite, Athena, Nyx, you name them. If you have some time, we can discuss the most exotic ones…

– No, thank you! – you raised your hands in a desperate refusal, not wanting to hear the entire invitation – I’m really grateful for your gentleness in receiving us, but I don’t want to take much more of your time, Beelzebub-sama – and, turning to your husband, – I think we should go back home and leave him free to work on his projects, my dear.

Hades had a smile on his lips that didn’t hide how much fun he had watching this interaction between you two, an extra reward after the astonishing news.

– Can you, please, stop scaring my wife, Beelzebub? – and, passing his around your shoulder, – As she stated, we’re grateful for your help, but it’s time to go. We have much work to do.

The Lord of the Flies returned to his chair, possibly to continue the studies in which he was engaged before you arrived.

– It’s a shame that we have to separate so soon, but you do as you prefer – he shrugged, still in that calm, good mood – If you need anything or if any curious symptom appears – he stared directly at you, – I’ll be right here.

You swallowed, but it was embarrassment that took you over instead of fear. Beelzebub was aware of your feelings towards him.

And guess you were lucky that he chose to have fun with this.

***

You’ve been standing before that porch for a while. Your legs would probably ache later, but you weren’t worried: now that you had a solid answer for most of those weird things your body has been doing, none of them scared you as an unsolvable problem anymore. Besides, you were now receiving the necessary assistance, not having to deal with anything all by yourself, and it has been good.

You were distracting your eyes and thoughts observing the Underworld’s landscape, a combination of empty fields and mountains of impossible size if compared to the ones of Midgard. Ahead and above, there were the expanded heights you used to call the sky, with heavy, reddish clouds that rarely brought rain; however, the wet wind that carried them that evening seemed to indicate an exception.

The way things turned out was still hard to assimilate. Just one day ago, you were scared and confused, until Beelzebub showed you the result of the test; now, you were there, in peace, trying to make amends with reality.

After all those years of marriage, you were carrying a child at last. You were going to be a mother for the first time.

– You’re going to get tired if you stay on your feet for too long, little one.

Hades’ voice brought you back to this plane. You turned to the porch’s entry and found him approaching your spot with slow, unworried steps: the ultimate sign that he has finally finished the works of the day and wouldn’t leave his chambers until tomorrow.

He stopped behind you and surrounded your body with his arms, pulling you to a warm embrace as his lips kissed your head.

– I’d get tired if I’d be forced to stay in bed all day – you replied with a smile – Besides, I was about to go back inside. It looks like it’s going to rain.

– Hmmm…

You didn’t went back to your room right after saying that: as long as the said rain wouldn’t reach the castle’s territory, you would take those precious moments in the company of each other, if not talking, enjoying your silence.

– This porch is still your favorite spot here, right? – your husband mumbled in your ear.

– Yes – you sighed – Why are you recalling this now?

– I was just remembering the first time you came here, right on the day you came to Hellheim – you felt his fingers curling the locks of your hair as he spoke – You said the view from here, which reminded you of a twilight, was the closest thing to Midgard you saw since you entered this plane. Then, you started to spent all your free time here.

You chuckled.

– You still remember that.

– Of course I do – and, with a pensive tone, – You know, I just couldn’t understand it at first. I always thought the lights of the castle were enough to simulate a natural day, so when you told me these dark skies made you feel closer to your homeland than them, it sounded absurd. It was when I realized that, because in Midgard you have your own sun, all life is connected to it through a sacred, unreplaceable bond, so that any artificial light would be just a poor excuse for them.

You turned to him, hiding your face on his chest.

– I don’t blame you for this, dear. There was one time when you said that you’ve had ages to get used to Hellheim’s darkness, so it was only natural that you wouldn’t realize it right at the beginning. I understand that.

– I know – Hades tightened the hug around you, as to apologize for this little mistake of long ago – But I cannot forget this. It’s my reminder that I have to stop and listen to you more attentively. If I have done this in this last case, all the uneasiness of the last days would have been avoided.

– Maybe yes, maybe not – you reciprocated the hug as warmly as you could – I don’t think we could ever know. Besides, I have my part on the responsibility in this too. If I didn’t act so hesitant and just spoke when I had to, things could have been solved in an easier way. I should have talked to you when all of this began. But I was so scared…

Right when your voice cracked and you thought you were going to cry, you felt a long, soft kiss on the top of your head as a response.

– Are you still afraid now, little one? – and, after you shook your head negatively, – Hmmm… that’s good to know…

Yes, it was really good. All your reasons to be afraid were left in the past, so now your thoughts could be entirely in the future, in the child you were going to bring to this world – not only a child, but a new deity. About this you had many questions, many worries, of course, but one thing you were sure: if your husband and you kept committed – you in speaking out and Hades in listening – nothing will be impossible.

You looked again at the horizon and noticed the clouds were near.

– We should go back inside now…

You separated from Hades and were going to enter your chambers, when a grip on your wrist stopped you midway.

– Oh, what hap… Hey!

After pulling you close to him again, your husband took you in his arms and started carrying you inside.

– Do you know what I’m thinking? – he started – Time will pass soon... Our baby will be here with us when we least expect.

You laughed.

– That’s true. And, when it happens, I want to present this view to them and make this their favorite spot as well…

– It’s an excellent idea, dear – he kissed your temple and tightened the grip around you – However… don’t you think this porch is too large for them alone?

– Well – you shrugged – It’s too large for me too…

You stopped deliberating once you raised your eyes to his face and saw the smirk on it. It wasn’t difficult to guess what he had in mind.

– Since they’ll not take too long to arrive – he leaned closer to you, whispering – We can start thinking about bringing their siblings to this porch right now.

You looked at the King of the Underworld with a mixture of desperation and diversion.

– Hades, you…! Don’t you ever bring this up again until our baby comes!

Hades laughed as you passed together through the porch’s entry.

– Sorry for hurrying things up, little one! I forgot we have all the time in the world for this!

***

The news about your pregnancy didn’t take long to spread among the Greek pantheon, and then to the other ones, and the messages of good luck, blessings and congratulations wouldn’t stop arriving, keeping Hellheim’s servants occupied for a good amount of time.

Surprising even his elder brother, Poseidon-sama was one of the first to send his regards, alongside a beautiful, golden shell he said he personally collected in his domain, explaining that it’s a traditional gift sent to the children born to the people of the seas. You loved the gift, of course, and wanted to make your gratitude known as soon as you could, so Hades didn’t take long to prepare a message.

By that time, the divine council has ended and the King of the Seas was already back to his castle. He was at the throne room as usual when the said message was delivered to him through the hands of his loyal servant, Protheus.

– Hades-sama and his wife, y/n-sama, sent this package to you, my Lord, as a thanks for the gift you sent in honor of their child – he knelt and raised the message with both hands to his master’s reach.

Poseidon found it strange that a simple reply should come in the form of a rectangular package, wrapped in golden paper. He released Protheus and waited until he left the room to unwrap the strange object.

His servant, now a few steps away on the corridor, would later be glad for being dispensed before the message’s content was figured out by his master, for the response it provoked came in a sway of the Tyrant’s trident, followed by a furious thud of its base on the castle’s floor that certainly caused a seaquake somewhere in the lands above.

It happened that, alongside the polite, warm handwritten message you sent, Hades included his own response in a small paper note that only said “Enjoy your reading” (which he had no need to sign, because Poseidon was more than used to his calligraphy), and under the enigmatic note an old book was found, one that was taken from Beelzebub’s library and about which he barely remembered. The book’s title, almost erased by time, was still visible and was seen by many servants that entered the room to take care of their tasks without understanding why it caused such reaction in their King.

Principles of the Effective Accursement and How to Spot Them – An Ultimate Guide.

[gcthvile]

Thyri

Name: Thyri (formerly known as Milly Brandt on Earth)

Nicknames: Thy, Ri, As-Grouch (by Tony), Valky-Tude (also by Tony)

Age: 1,500 years old.

Height: 6'0

Sexuality: Pansexual

Background:

Thyri was born into a prestigious family in Asgard, the realm of the gods, known for their long lineage of legendary warriors. Her parents were revered warriors themselves, known for their bravery and unwavering loyalty to Asgard's cause. From a young age, Thyri was immersed in the traditions of her people, taught the ways of combat and valor alongside her siblings.

Growing up, Thyri idolized her parents and dreamed of following in their footsteps, eager to prove herself worthy of their legacy. Under their guidance, she honed her skills in swordsmanship and archery, displaying a natural talent for combat that surpassed even her siblings.

Tragedy struck when Thyri was still in her adolescence. During a fierce battle against the forces of darkness that threatened Asgard's peace, her parents fell in combat, sacrificing themselves to protect their comrades. Their loss left a profound void in Thyri's heart, fueling her determination to carry on their legacy and defend her homeland with unmatched ferocity.

Determined to honor her parents' memory, Thyri dedicated herself to her training, pushing herself to the limits of her abilities and beyond. Her relentless pursuit of perfection caught the attention of Odin himself, who saw in her the potential to become one of Asgard's greatest warriors.

Bestowed with the title of Valkyrie, Thyri joined the ranks of Asgard's elite guardians, tasked with the sacred duty of ushering fallen warriors to Valhalla. As a Valkyrie, she soared across the skies on her majestic steed, wielding her enchanted sword with grace and precision, inspiring fear in the hearts of Asgard's enemies.

But beneath her stoic facade, Thyri harbored doubts about the never-ending cycle of violence that consumed her homeland. She questioned the morality of war and longed for a world where peace could flourish without the need for bloodshed.

Her doubts came to a head during a pivotal battle against a powerful enemy that threatened to engulf the Nine Realms in darkness. As the conflict raged on, Thyri witnessed the senseless loss of life and the toll it took on both sides of the conflict. In a moment of clarity, she realized that there had to be another way to achieve justice and harmony, one that didn't rely on the sword alone.

Against Odin's orders to press the offensive, Thyri chose compassion over conquest, seeking to find a peaceful resolution to the conflict. Her decision sparked outrage among her fellow warriors, who saw her actions as a betrayal of Asgard's traditions.

Cast out from her homeland and stripped of her title as a Valkyrie, Thyri found herself adrift in the cosmos, haunted by the memories of her past and uncertain of her future. It was during her journey through the stars that she discovered Earth, a world brimming with life and diversity unlike anything she had ever known.

Inspired by the resilience of humanity and the spirit of cooperation among its people, Thyri vowed to protect this newfound home from any threats that may arise. Taking up the mantle of a fallen hero, she adopted the name Thyri, a symbol of her commitment to atone for her past and forge a new legacy as a guardian of Earth.

After arriving on Earth, Thyri, now operating under the alias Milly Brandt, found herself drawn into the clandestine world of SHIELD, the covert organization tasked with protecting the planet from extraterrestrial threats. Under the watchful eye of Nick Fury, she underwent intensive training and adapted to the nuances of life on Earth, all while keeping her true identity hidden from her new colleagues.

As Milly Brandt, she proved herself to be a valuable asset to SHIELD, utilizing her formidable combat skills and keen intellect to thwart numerous threats to global security. Her unwavering dedication and unassuming demeanor earned her the respect of her fellow agents, though few suspected the truth behind the enigmatic newcomer.

Despite her newfound purpose and sense of belonging within SHIELD, Thyri struggled with the weight of her past and the secrets she harbored. The memories of her life in Asgard and the choices that led to her exile weighed heavily on her conscience, threatening to unravel the fragile facade she had built on Earth.

As she delved deeper into her work at SHIELD, Thyri found herself confronted with echoes of her past, facing adversaries who tested her resolve and forced her to confront the demons she had long sought to bury. With each battle fought and each victory won, she grew more determined to redeem herself and make amends for the mistakes of her past.

But as tensions within SHIELD began to rise and dark forces threatened to tear the organization apart from within, Thyrinfound herself at a crossroads, torn between loyalty to her newfound allies and the truth of her identity. Forced to confront her past in order to secure the future of Earth, she embarked on a journey of self-discovery that would test the limits of her strength and resilience.

Reunion

As Thor's banishment to Earth unfolded, Thyri watched from afar, torn between conflicting emotions of relief and apprehension. She had worked tirelessly to conceal her true identity and distance herself from her past, fearing the consequences of her secret being exposed to the world.

When Thor's arrival on Earth coincided with Thyri's tenure at SHIELD, she found herself faced with a dilemma unlike any she had encountered before. Despite her efforts to maintain a low profile, the sudden reappearance of her former comrade threatened to upend the delicate balance she had worked so hard to maintain.

Desperate to avoid contact with Thor and the potential revelation of her true identity, Thyri kept her distance, watching from the shadows as he navigated the unfamiliar terrain of Midgard. But fate had other plans in store for them, as their paths inevitably crossed in a moment of chance encounter.

In a moment of excitement at seeing a familiar face from her past, Thyri's guard slipped, and she found herself face to face with Thor once more. Before she could stop him, he greeted her with open arms, oblivious to the danger his presence posed to her carefully guarded secret.

In a rush of emotions, Thor's exuberance betrayed Thyri's trust, as he unwittingly revealed her true identity to the others gathered around them. Shock and disbelief washed over her as the truth of her past was laid bare for all to see, threatening to unravel the fragile facade she had built on Earth.

As Thyri grappled with the fallout of Thor's revelation, she realized that the time for hiding was over. Embracing her true identity as a fallen hero from Asgard, she stood tall in the face of adversity, ready to confront the challenges that lay ahead with courage and determination.

Personality

Thyri possesses a rare combination of strength and vulnerability, shaped by her tumultuous past and unwavering sense of duty. Beneath her stoic exterior lies a compassionate soul, deeply affected by the suffering she has witnessed throughout her life. Despite the weight of her burdens, she remains fiercely determined and resilient, refusing to succumb to despair in the face of adversity.

Courageous and honorable to the core, Thyri embodies the virtues of a true warrior, guided by a steadfast moral compass and unwavering dedication to justice. She is willing to sacrifice everything for the greater good, even if it means confronting her own demons and making difficult choices along the way.

While Thyri may initially come across as guarded and aloof, she harbors a profound capacity for empathy and understanding, forged through her experiences on both Asgard and Earth. She forms deep connections with those she trusts, valuing loyalty and camaraderie above all else.

Despite her past mistakes and the scars they have left behind, Thyri refuses to dwell on regrets, choosing instead to focus on the future and the opportunities it holds for redemption and renewal. She approaches each challenge with a fierce determination and unwavering resolve, drawing strength from the bonds she shares with her allies and the knowledge that she is fighting for a cause greater than herself.

In moments of uncertainty or doubt, Thyri relies on her inner strength and resilience to persevere, refusing to back down in the face of overwhelming odds. Her journey of self-discovery and redemption serves as a testament to her indomitable spirit and unwavering commitment to forging a brighter future for herself and those she holds dear.

The Avengers

Thor

Thor's arrival on Earth marks a significant turning point in Thyri's journey, as his presence forces her to confront her past and embrace her true identity. Despite their initial differences and the challenges they face along the way, Thyri and Thor share a deep bond forged through their shared history as warriors of Asgard. As they navigate the complexities of life on Earth together, their relationship evolves from one of tentative allies to that of trusted confidants, united by a common purpose and a shared commitment to protecting their newfound home.

Steve Rogers

Thyri's relationship with Steve is characterized by mutual admiration and respect, rooted in their shared values of honor, duty, and sacrifice. As two warriors from vastly different backgrounds, they find common ground in their unwavering commitment to serving the greater good, often serving as each other's moral compass in times of uncertainty. Their camaraderie is built on a foundation of trust and mutual understanding, as they stand shoulder to shoulder in the face of adversity, ready to defend Earth against any threat that may arise.

Natasha Romanoff

Thyri's relationship with Natasha is one of cautious camaraderie, born out of mutual respect for each other's skills and abilities. Despite their differences in background and temperament, they share a deep understanding of the sacrifices required to be a warrior, and a willingness to put aside personal differences in pursuit of a common goal. As they fight alongside each other on the battlefield, they develop a bond built on trust and mutual reliance, forming a formidable team capable of taking on any challenge that comes their way.

Tony Stark

Thyri's relationship with Tony is characterized by a combination of admiration and exasperation, as they often find themselves at odds due to their differing approaches to problem-solving and conflict resolution. Despite their occasional clashes, they share a begrudging respect for each other's abilities and a mutual desire to protect Earth from any threat that may arise. Their dynamic is marked by witty banter and playful rivalry, tempered by a deep-seated sense of camaraderie born out of their shared experiences as members of the Avengers.

Clint Barton

Thyri's relationship with Clint is one of mutual respect and trust, grounded in their shared experiences as skilled fighters. Despite Clint's initial skepticism towards Thyri due to her mysterious past, they quickly develop a bond forged through their shared dedication to the team and their willingness to put their lives on the line for the greater good. As fellow warriors, they share a deep understanding of the sacrifices required to protect Earth, forming a formidable partnership on the battlefield characterized by seamless coordination and unwavering loyalty.

Bruce Banner

Thyri's relationship with Bruce, and his alter ego, The Hulk, is one marked by a mixture of awe and concern. Initially wary of Bruce's unpredictable transformations and the destructive power of Hulk, Thyri gradually comes to see past the surface to the man beneath the monster. As Bruce struggles to come to terms with his dual nature, Thyri serves as a steadfast ally and confidant, offering him support and understanding in moments of uncertainty and fear. Despite the challenges they face, their bond grows stronger over time, as they learn to trust each other and work together to harness Hulk's power for the greater good.

Other marvel characters

Loki

Thyri's relationship with Loki is one of profound complexity, shaped by a mixture of history, rivalry, and begrudging respect. As fellow inhabitants of Asgard, they share a long and tumultuous history, marked by moments of camaraderie as well as betrayal. Despite their differences and the animosity that often simmers beneath the surface, Thyri and Loki share a deep understanding of each other's struggles and motivations, forged through their shared experiences as members of Asgard's royal family. Though their relationship is fraught with tension and mistrust, they are bound together by a common heritage and a sense of obligation to their homeland, leading to moments of reluctant cooperation tempered by underlying suspicion.

Brunhilde

Thyri's relationship with Brunhilde, also known as Valkyrie, is one characterized by mutual respect, admiration, and a shared sense of duty. As fellow warriors of Asgard, they once fought side by side as members of the Valkyrior, tasked with defending the realm from threats both internal and external. Despite the tragic circumstances that led to Thyri's exile from Asgard, Brunhilde remains a steadfast ally and friend, offering her support and guidance as Thyri navigates the complexities of life on Earth. United by their shared experiences and a common bond forged through countless battles fought together, Thyri and Brunhilde stand as kindred spirits, bound by their unwavering commitment to protecting those in need and upholding the values of honor and valor that define their legacy as warriors of Asgard.

Stephen Strange

Thyri shares a mutual respect with Strange, admiring his mastery of the mystical arts and his dedication to protecting Earth from supernatural threats. Their paths occasionally intersect when facing otherworldly adversaries, and they form a formidable team when combining their unique skills and abilities.

Peter Parker

Thyri sees Peter as a kindred spirit, recognizing his youthful idealism and sense of responsibility. She admires his courage in the face of danger and often serves as a mentor figure, offering guidance and support as he navigates the challenges of being a young hero.

T'Challa

Thyri respects T'Challa's leadership and wisdom, recognizing him as a noble and honorable ruler. They share a common dedication to protecting the innocent and upholding justice, often collaborating on missions that require their combined strength and expertise.

Carol Danvers

Thyri admires Carol's strength and resilience, seeing her as a role model and fellow warrior. They share a deep bond forged through their experiences as powerful heroes, and Thyri often looks to Carol for guidance and inspiration in times of uncertainty.

Bucky Barnes

Thyri empathizes with Bucky's struggles with his past and his efforts to atone for his actions as a brainwashed assassin. They share a mutual respect forged through their experiences as warriors, and Thyri often serves as a confidant and ally to Bucky as he seeks redemption.

Wanda Maximoff

Thyri feels a sense of kinship with Wanda, empathizing with her struggles as a powerful being grappling with her own identity and place in the world. Despite their differences in background and abilities, they share a bond forged through shared experiences of loss and redemption, serving as sources of strength and support for each other in times of need.

Extra information

Despite her stoic demeanor on the battlefield, Thyri has a hidden talent for storytelling and enjoys regaling her fellow warriors with tales of Asgardian lore and epic battles from her homeland.

Thyri has a soft spot for animals, particularly horses, and often spends her downtime at the stables, bonding with the majestic creatures and honing her skills as a rider.

In addition to her prowess in combat, Thyri is also a skilled artist, finding solace and expression through painting and sketching during quiet moments of reflection.

Thyri has a weakness for Midgardian cuisine, especially Earth's desserts. She can often be found indulging in sweets like chocolate cake or ice cream, savoring each bite with childlike delight.

Despite her imposing stature and fearsome reputation on the battlefield, Thyri is surprisingly fond of music and has a talent for playing the harp, finding solace in its melodic strains during moments of solitude.

In her downtime, Thyri enjoys exploring the natural beauty of Earth, often taking long walks in the wilderness or hiking through rugged terrain to reconnect with the world around her.

Thyri harbors a secret love for poetry, often composing verses in her spare time as a way to express her innermost thoughts and emotions.

hope you guys like her!

tags: @missstrawbs2001 @jackiequick @blueboirick @cherrysft @meiramel @purpleprincessonfyre @ask-missparker @askstevella @therealdaydreamstark @rickb-chaos @luna-d-marsh @rooster-84 @gaminggirlsstuff

[cauldronblssd]

Found in the Sunlight - Ch 12

Nesta agrees to beers with Lucien

Read on AO3

Excerpt:

“What the fuck is he doing here?"   

Elain didn’t need to turn to know who she was talking about. She felt the moment he arrived at the House of Wind. His heart beat a steady rhythm in her ears.  

“We’ve got to work on that greeting, Nesta.” Lucien stood leaning against the wall in his Illyrian fighting leathers, the material clinging to every muscled line of his body. Elain knew, despite his courtier’s persona, Lucien was also a warrior. He’d been dressed similarly during the war, head to toe in weapons and still covered in blood and dirt from the battle before. He’d come to find her then, too. A flush started to creep up her cheeks and she averted her gaze before he caught her staring.   

“If you think marrying my sister makes us friends, you’re mistaken.” Nesta threw her dagger towards Lucien’s shoulder. The wind whistled with the force of it.  

He caught it easily, twirling it between his fingers as he spoke. “We’ll see. I’m charming, ask Feyre.”  

Nesta raised a brow as she assessed her opponent. “Charming is not the word she used.”   

Lucien raised a hand to his chest in mock offense. “Besmirched my character, has she?” He leaned in slightly towards Nesta. “She's told me stories about you, too.”  

Nesta crossed her arms. “I’d be shocked if she hadn’t.”  

“Get a beer with me and we’ll return the favor. I have all kinds of embarrassing stories I’m sure Feyre would prefer I not share.” Lucien tossed the dagger back towards her, taking care to point the hilt in her direction rather than the blade.  

Nesta grabbed it as she began to wrap bandages around her hands and wrists. She didn’t look up from her task as she continued their conversation. “I’ll pass. How did you get here?”  

“To your prison in the sky? I climbed the steps.”  

Nesta paused, turning her eyes towards him but not moving. “You climbed ten thousand steps?”   

“I’m no Valkyrie but I’ve been training for centuries.” Lucien leaned further into the wall, slouching, as if to prove his point.  

“Alright, let’s see it Foxboy!” Cassian came to slap Lucien on the back, while Nesta glared at her mate. The two males grinned at each other, all devious mischief.  

Elain slowly walked over to stand next to Nesta. She appreciated that Lucien didn’t fear her sister. It was a mistake, of course. Nesta never made a threat she wouldn’t follow through on, even as a human. She’d protect him from Beron but if Nesta turned her ire in Lucien’s direction, he’d have to fight that out on his own.   

Elain knew why he was here, to her chagrin. She could see those feral fae instincts glimmering in his eye as he assessed the training area and especially when he glanced towards Azriel. Azriel for his part, kept his distance, making himself busy with some kind of obstacle course for the Valkyries, shadows whispering in his ears. She tried to offer him a smile, recalling the guilt on his face when they’d spoken after he’d punched her. He only nodded in her direction before returning to his task. She wondered if Cassian saw it too, assessing the tension and the potential threat Lucien posed to their quiet training session.  

Nesta was undeterred. “This training session is closed.” She threw her words at him with all the force of a kick to the chest.  

Lucien put his hands in the air in front of him. “I’m just here to observe.”   

Nesta turned her back, done with the conversation. “Ogle my sister later. We’re busy.”   

Now Lucien scowled. “And wait for her to come back bruised and bloody? I don’t think so.”   

Azriel glowered from across the field.  Cassian grasped Lucien’s shoulder. “We won’t let anything happen to her. That was an accident.”  

Lucien didn’t budge. “ Great , I’ll just watch then.” Elain walked over, not bothering to hide her frustration. Things had been good between them last night, and now they were back to this. “I’m fine. I’ll come find you when I’m done.”  

Lucien summoned a chair from the pocket realm and sat down. Show off. “Does my presence bother you, Elain?” Yes . There’s no way she can focus with him watching her. She really will get punched in the face again. A punch from Cassian or Nesta would hardly be better than one from Azriel. She’s going to sustain permanent brain damage if things keep going this way. There’s no room for her wayward thoughts with fists and weapons flying in every direction.  

Elain turned away from him, nonchalant. “Nope.” She took up her fighting stance back across from Nesta. Nesta glared at Lucien before beginning to direct Elain through a series of kicks and punches.   

Cassian, ever the troublemaker, prodded. “C’mon, let’s see what the Spring Court taught you.”   

Lucien paused, glancing towards Elain as if he hesitated to move from his place as her watchful guard. She made a point of turning her back to him just as Nesta had, flipping her braid over her shoulder and squaring her elbows into a fighting stance.   

“It’s been a while since I’ve sparred with anyone besides Jurian.” Elain peered around Nesta to see him standing, rolling his neck. What did it say about her that her first instinct was to go and lick that exposed column of skin? She shut her eyes, pretending she was working on her breathing exercizes when really she was afraid her scent might shift while her sister was around.  

Mate. Touch him. Taste him.   

Nesta turned to follow Elain’s glance. Elain couldn’t help herself. Every movement gave her a new view of his body she saw so little of in his long jackets and breeches. Nesta’s eyes narrowed as she looked back to Elain.  

“Cassian, swap with me.” Nesta stepped away from Elain, grabbing her foot to pull back behind her, stretching dramatically.   

Cassian, Lucien, and Azriel all eyed her warily. Elain covered her mouth to keep herself from laughing. She would never tire of watching a room full of men cower in her sister’s presence. Maybe training wasn’t such a bad idea after all. She made a mental note of all of their faces so she could show Feyre mind to mind later.   

Nesta didn’t pause, grabbing two swords, tossing one to Lucien. He hesitated, as if quickly making a decision. Elain kept her face impassive, not daring to involve herself in this.   

“At your service, Nesta.” He bowed dramatically, before taking the sword she offered him and walking towards her.   

Cassian took up the mats he used to practice punches and kicks with Elain, but neither of them took their eyes of Lucien and Nesta. Elain walked up to Cassian and whispered, “Should we do something?”  

Cassian shrugged. “Sorry, El, but Nesta will kill me if intervene. I value my own life.”   

Elain smiled but said, “If she does any permanent damage, I blame you.”   

Nesta and Lucien circled each other, each waiting to strike. Nesta smirked, like a cat playing with her food, waiting to pounce. Lucien, to his credit, kept his shoulders relaxed and his eyes focused as they followed each other’s movements.  

Nesta struck first, throwing her sword out towards his right arm. Lucien turned, striking her weapon with his own. The sound of metal clanging filled the air as they parried back and forth in earnest.   

“Shit!” Lucien grunted. She looked for his injury, to see that he had scraped Nesta with his sword across her left bicep.  

Nesta just growled. “Keep going.”  

Cassian, perhaps too used to Nesta’s fighting, looked unbothered. Lucien and Nesta continued to circle and strike at each other, each getting in a few hits. Both had long forgotten their audience, faces locked in concentration. Sweat dripped along Nesta’s brow and Lucien’s hair slipped from its neat braid along his back.   

Minutes or hours passed before Nesta finally knocked the sword from Lucien’s hand with a resonant clang. She held the sword to his chest in triumph, pointing it above his heart. Lucien stood panting, locking eyes with Nesta “You win.”  

Nesta looked back at Lucien and heaved a tired sigh before she nodded at him, lowering her sword. She stalked back towards Elain. “And what have you two been doing? You’re supposed to be training.” But Elain knew Nesta, she was pleased.   

Lucien walked towards the back wall, taking a long drink of water before returning to his chair. Nesta called out to him, “When these two,” she gestures towards Cassian and Elain, “are done slacking, you owe me a drink.”   

Cassian and Elain exchanged a nervous look before she began punching the mats. She tried not to think about Lucien watching her, long legs sprawled out in front of him, from across the room.   

[wanderingmind867]

In case you missed all the other parts, this is part six of my Howard the Duck story idea: The Wedding of Howard and Bev! I'm really, really proud of this one. I think I actually came up with a good plotline:

The annual would feature Howard and Bev's wedding, which is to be held in a lavish chapel in Cleveland. All of the people Howard's met and befriended are invited to the wedding, so the guest list would include (but not be limited to): Paul Same, Winda Wester, Uncle Lee, Claude Starkowski, Jennifer Kale, Korrek, Man-Thing, Doctor Strange, Spider-Man and Daimon Hellstrom. Although Doctor Strange is the only one invited on The Defenders, he brings the rest of the team with him anyways (so Valkyrie, Hulk, Nighthawk, Hellcat, etc all show up). The point is: it's a big wedding. Even the kidney lady might show up, only to get kicked out after she tries to pick a fight with our many super powerful party guests (like the hulk).

But sadly: the wedding is interrupted by more than just the kidney lady. No, it's interrupted by Bev's ex-husband: Doctor Bong! He's come to win her back and kill howard, and he's using the court of public opinion to achieve his evil schemes. You see: for months now, he's been publishing articles detailing his arduous task of raising three kids on his own. So by the time bev and howard inevitably had their wedding, bong would have control of the narrative.

Having convinced people that howard was the one who manipulated bev into marrying him (thereby deflecting his real crimes onto Howard), bong now leads an army of concerned citizens to "save his wife from that feathered freak"! And since none of the heroes attending the wedding know what to do, bev is successfully "liberated" and brought back to her rightful husband. Which means that Howard now has to head to Doctor Bong's castle and save her yet again.

Doctor Strange and Howard's other allies help him locate and access Bong's fortress, but Howard has to fight Bong alone. The others don't want to get in the way of this incredibly complicated web of romance any more than they have to. And I still don't know how Bong would be defeated, but I know that he definitely would be defeated.

And then, with bong defeated and lying in the ruins of his castle with his minions and "children", Howard and Bev take off. We end the issue with a scene from their flight back to Cleveland, showing them deciding to just elope instead. It's much easier that way. And that'll be how this comic series ends. We tied up almost all the loose ends the original howard the duck comics left behind, we brought the series back to bizarre, philosophical roots, and we managed to tell a compelling romance story to boot! Now we have all the open space for later Howard the Duck stories. Ones not forced into tying up loose ends from 1981!

[romance-club-daily]

Romance Club MC's as Greek deities:

Liv as Bia:

Goddess of Strength and Violence 💪🏽

Bia was the goddess or personified spirit of force, power, might, bodily strength and compulsion. She, her sister Nike (Victory), and brothers Kratos (Cratus, Power) and Zelos (Rivalry), were the winged enforcers of Zeus. In Mount Olympus she was almost always seen beside him as he sat on his throne, tasked with enforcing his orders whenever he required an act of strength. Bia was never recorded as marrying or having children in the myths. Liv was chosen for Bia because of her warrior-like personality. Also, the relationship dynamics with Odin and the Valkyrie reminds us of Bia with Zeus.

File Source | BeautifulCome | cr.nana

Another skin colors under the cut:

[nikethestatue]

Hello, what exactly is the ribbon incident in the last book and why is everyone focusing on it so much? (I'm new to the fandom and haven't read the last book yet)

I wouldn't call it an 'incident'. It's a plot point throughout the book. Nesta and her 2 new friends, Gwyn and Emerie, attempted to cut a ribbon--which is extremely difficult to do. It was also a technique from the Valkyries, an ancient female fighting force.

Cutting the ribbon signified that you've achieved a high level of mastery.

Gwyn was especially into cutting the ribbon and spent a lot of time attempting to accomplish the task.

At one point, when Azriel challenged her and the others to pass the Blood Rite Qualifier, Nesta told him 'you are the next ribbon, Az'--meaning Gwyn will become hyper fixated on proving him wrong and passing the Qualifier.

Those who ship Gwyn and Azriel together took that as a romantic sign.