#YOUR HIGHNESS I’VE NEVER RIDDEN A HORSE

[thedevilsfamiliar]

Oh to be a peasant minding your own business only for a royal to catch sight of you and think “what a funky looking creature, I must interact” and now they simply do not leave you alone

[meowmeow-motherfucker]

Covenant- Chapter 4

Summary: With the five year anniversary of the attack on New York approaching, Odin and Fury come to the agreement that an arranged marriage between Asgard and Earth would show good faith toward all future interactions. When Odin refuses Jane’s candidacy, Agent Coulson is tasked with finding a suitable wife for the prince of Asgard.

Pairing: Loki x OFC

Taglist: @lokisgoodgirl @gigglingtiggerv2 @icytrickster17 @mysteriouslyfriedjellyfish @lokislilkitten @justjoanne242 @amlocked @ddmariegirl @mags-04-blog @sharris8 @meepycheep @iamlokisgloriouspurpose @the-fantasy-loving-angel @jaidenhawke @smolvenger

Please let me know if you'd like to be added to the taglist! Thanks for coming along on this journey with me! Buckle up gang :D

28 days until the wedding

Ragna woke Claire far too early, when the sun was barely up. Didn’t people sleep in here? She wasn’t in a great mood from yesterday’s events, but hopefully today would be better.

Claire let herself be wrangled into a warm dress and riding boots. She thought it was an odd combo, but it was an improvement over the dress and corset from yesterday, so she put up little resistance. She dozed off while her hair was brushed, jerking awake when she snored loudly. Claire and her ladies shared a laugh at her expense, and Claire did her best to wake herself up with a splash of cold water before she had to leave.

When Ragna led her outside of the palace and a large paddock with horses came into view, the outfit began to make sense. The sprawling stable stood tall and dark before the high mountains and rolling fog in the distance.

“Good morning, dear,” Frigga greeted her as she entered the stable. “I trust you slept well.” She gave a small smile when Claire yawned.

“I did…” Claire replied as she rubbed her arms against the chill of the morning air. “So well that I want to sleep some more.”

“It’s a short lesson today, dear.” Frigga patted her on the arm as Loki entered the stable.

“Yesterday was meant to be a short lesson; look how that turned out,” he said sharply, glancing at Claire meaningfully. Claire rolled her eyes, annoyed by the reminder of their disastrous encounter the day before. Claire would never claim to be a skilled dancer, but somehow next to Loki’s graceful movements she’d looked like a newborn fawn, and he’d yet to let her forget it. “Good morning Mother.”

“Good morning Loki. Perhaps things would go more smoothly if one kept his temper in check?” Frigga suggested.

“Yeah, what she said.” Claire smirked. Loki scoffed, burning her with an ireful glare.

“It’s rather rude to interrupt conversations.” He scolded her.

“And it’s too early for you to be an ass.” Claire countered.

“Agreed,” Frigga said curtly. “I know how much you adore sniping with your intended, Loki, but I’m afraid I’ll be giving you little time for that today. We shall practice for the parade as quickly as possible and Loki and I must see the tailor immediately after.”

“Can’t wait.” Loki supplied sarcastically, smiling at Frigga cheekily when she glowered at him.

“Lady Claire, have you ever ridden before?” Frigga asked, pointedly ignoring her son’s good-natured attempt to make her smile. Claire shook her head.

“Only once when I was a kid,” She said. “I’ve avoided it ever since.”

“Wonderful,” Loki threw his hands up in aggravation. “Best inform the tailor, Mother, we’ll be here until nightfall.”

“Hush,” Frigga scolded Loki. “She doesn’t have to become an expert, she merely needs to learn what’s necessary for the parade. Everything else can come later.” She led them outside to the paddock, where a stable hand stood waiting for them. A horse the color of butterscotch pudding grazed at the far end of the enclosure, her flanks bespeckled with white splotches.

The stable hand bowed in greeting before trotting off to collect the horse. The horse whinnied, tossing its massive head about in agitation as the stable hand put the reins in place. The man spoke to the horse in a low voice as it stamped its powerful hooves, teasing it toward them with a few clicks of his tongue.

“Is now a bad time to mention I don’t like horses?” Claire asked, eyeing the incredibly tall horse being walked toward them warily. The horses long thin legs seemed to stretch on for miles, its silver mane whipping about as it shook its head.

“It’s just a mare,” Loki replied. “Barely ten hands high.”

“Yeah but see, the ground is safe. The ground can’t kill me.”

“That’s not very encouraging to the ground. It certainly could if it tried-”

“Loki-”

“Well it could,” Loki argued when Frigga chastised him. “Earthquakes, mudslides...it’s not entirely outside the realm of possibility. After all, mortals are exceedingly fragile.”

“Yeah but there are warning signs for those things. I’d be able to avoid them. A horse can just decide to kick you and in the next second you’re dead.”

“Then don’t antagonize the horse.” Claire rolled her eyes at Loki’s patronizing advice.

“Right, because it’s that simple.”

“It is, remarkably,” Loki replied as the stable hand reached them with the horse. “It gets easier with practice.”

“How long have you been riding?”

“Since I could walk, of course,” Loki said pompously. “Did you not have opportunity on Midgard?”

“My mom sent me to horse camp when I was twelve,” Claire replied, watching with trepidation as a stable hand brought the horse meant for her closer. “My horse threw me.”

“Embla is one of our more docile horses, she will do fine for your first time,” Frigga stepped between them to take the reins from the stable hand. “She will take her cues from you. Like in all things, you must be calm and confident. Come, say hello. She will not bite.”

“Are you sure about that?” Claire asked nervously as Embla chomped at the bit in her mouth. The butterscotch colored horse fixed its beady eyes on Claire and whuffled, and Claire pulled her hand back for fear of losing a finger.

“There is nothing to fear. Embla is curious, nothing more.”

“Okay, sure. What do I do?”

“Offer out your hand, just like that, so she may smell you,” Frigga coached. Embla whuffled at Claire’s hand, her soft lips tickling her skin. “Excellent. Now you may pet her, let her get comfortable with you.” Frigga encouraged. Still fearing she may lose her hand, Claire palmed the horses nose, the buttery soft skin warm and twitching with what Claire hoped was excitement. Claire stroked the horses muzzle, pulling back abruptly when Embla protested. A mighty hoof stomped the ground and Embla whinnied again, louder than the last time.

“What did I do?” Claire asked anxiously.

“She wants a treat,” Loki grinned. “She always does, don’t you?” he said smoothly, producing an apple as he stepped toward the horse. Smelling the treat, Embla began rooting for it, taking the apple from Loki’s outstretched hand with great big yellow teeth. Claire watched the horse chew the entire apple as Loki stroked her muzzle fondly. “She’s quite happy now. You can mount her.”

“I can what now?”

“Place your foot in the stirrup, my lady,” the stable hand said from beside Claire, his hands stroking Embla’s flank beside the saddle he’d just cinched into place. “Then step up, and swing your leg to the other side.”

“Right, sure,” Claire said with a confidence she didn’t feel. “Easy peasy. If Annie Oakley can do it, I can do it.” she muttered, her knees feeling wobbly as she grabbed the horn of the saddle. “Wait, are there cowboys here?”

“What?”

“You know, herd cattle, train horses...what else do cowboys even do?” Claire trailed off. Instead of answering her question, Loki stepped around the horse before grabbing her by the waist and lifting her onto the horse, setting her gently in the saddle.

“Was that so difficult?” he asked.

“I could have done it myself!” Claire argued.

“Is that so?” Loki asked dryly. “Ragnarok would likely have come and gone before you did.”

“Which is supposedly your fault, so…technically, you not letting me do things at MY pace is kind of speeding up the process of the whole universe exploding. So thanks for that.”

“Only the best for you, darling.” Loki said sarcastically.

“Aw, you shouldn’t have!” Claire gasped theatrically, bringing her hand to her chest. “If you keep lavishing me with such gifts I might think you actually like me.”

“Well we certainly can’t have that.” Loki sighed. He smacked the horse’s behind, making her rear up and take off at a gallop. Claire screamed and lunged forward, hugging the horse’s neck for dear life as it sped off. Embla raced toward the paddock fence, Claire bouncing with every pound of her hooves, and Claire suddenly began to worry Embla was going to jump the fence and take off with her. What if she fell off and broke her neck? What if it trampled her? She’d probably never walk again. She didn’t remember the last time she’d been this scared.

“Oh my god, stop, stop, stop!” she begged the horse, hugging the horse with her entire body when it reared back and came to a sudden stop.

“It’s alright, my lady, you can let go,” the stable hand who’d brought out the horse must have stopped the horse somehow. “I’ve got the reins now.” he assured her. Embla stomped her deadly hoof impatiently, as if to say ‘Get off me already!’

Claire looked around frantically, heart pounding in her throat as she realized the horse was indeed back under control.

“How do I get down?” she asked quietly, afraid to be too loud and spook the horse. “I don’t know what to do.”

“Swing your leg over, my lady, I will catch you,” the stable hand said. “You’re perfectly safe.”

“Okay,” Claire forced herself to loosen her grip on the horse’s mane, pausing when she’d sat up. “Wait, forward or backward?”

“Backward, my lady, so you’ll land facing the horse.”

“Okay, sure. I can do that,” Claire muttered to herself. “This is fine. It’s fine. It’s not like I’m sitting on a wild animal that could kill me with a single kick.” she managed to get down from the horse with the stable hand’s help, doing her best to straighten her dress.

“I see you managed to get off the horse!” Loki laughed. “Well done.”

“You…asshole!” Claire seethed as she marched on shaky legs toward him. “What the fuck is your problem!?” Without waiting for an answer, she punched him in the face, sending him stumbling back into the water trough. Claire was so mad she couldn’t even appreciate the sight of him falling into the water. “You could have killed me! You- You are just…unbelievable!” she yelled, turning away from him to see Frigga watching them with a concerned look on her face. Claire took a deep breath to calm her herself. She couldn’t seem to stop shaking. “Thank you for the lesson.” She gave her soon to be mother-in-law a small curtsy and walked into the stable. Frigga rounded on Loki with a stormy expression.

“What in the world could have possessed you to do that? Not just to an inexperienced rider but to your fiancée!” she scolded, storming to his side as he climbed out of the trough.

“I didn’t choose her.” Loki groused, paying no mind to Frigga as he touched his smarting cheek gingerly.

“Nonetheless, you are supposed to look after her; not try to kill her off before the wedding!” Frigga said sharply as Loki rubbed at his cheek. “I expected better from you.”

“This actually hurts,” Loki remarked softly, frowning when Frigga began to chortle. “It isn’t funny Mother.”

“Oh but it is!” Frigga cackled. “Loki, you must stop trying to goad her. Marriage is meant to be a partnership, not a skirmish. Go find her and apologize,” She reached up to cup his reddened cheek and gave another quiet snicker. “Go.” She said sternly when Loki frowned at her.

Loki entered the stable to search for Claire as instructed, stalling when he saw Claire seated on the bench outside his horses stall.

“What do you want?”

“I came to-”

“Please,” Claire scoffed. “We both know you’re not actually sorry. You’re here because your mom made you come.”

“I’m simply giving you a chance to gloat,” Loki spread out his arms so she could see the water still dripping from his form. “You got your revenge, mortal. Though if you had paid more attention to the lesson-” Loki ducked to escape a flying bucket.

“Stay the hell away from me!” Claire shouted across the stable. “Just leave me alone, you psycho!” she stormed out of the stable, slamming the door behind her. Loki scoffed as he put the bucket away. His horse huffed at him as he drew near, begging for treats as always.

“I’m not a psychopath,” he grumbled to himself. “It was a fun prank, was it not?” his horse shook its head, tail swishing in agitation. “I suppose you like her, do you?” Loki asked accusingly. The horse neighed enthusiastically, causing Loki to roll his eyes dramatically. “You would. Everyone does.”

26 days until the wedding

Claire hadn't seen Loki in a few days since the horse riding incident. She was still mad about it, but since she hadn't seen him, she hadn't been able to give him a piece of her mind. She glanced at the package she'd had delivered from home, wondering if she was taking things a bit too far. Screw that, he could have killed her! He deserved it.

“Ragna, will you deliver this to Prince Loki please?”

“Of course, my lady. Can I do anything else for you this eve?”

“No thank you. I'll head to bed in a bit. See you in the morning.”

“Good night my lady.” Ragna curtsied before taking the package and leaving Claire's quarters. Your turn, asshole. Claire finished her wine and headed to bed.

Across the palace, Ragna handed the parcel to Astrid at the door to Loki’s chambers. Astrid took the parcel inside, holding it aloft for the prince to see.

“This just arrived for you, Your Majesty. From your betrothed.”

“Thank you, Astrid.” Loki looked up from his book to see the older woman holding a parcel. She waited for him to set his book aside before handing it to him.

“Of course, Your Majesty. Do you require anything else for the day?”

“No, you may go.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty. Sleep well.”

“And you.” Loki replied absently as he turned the parcel over in his hands. It was not a large or heavy item, whatever it was. She'd wrapped it in thick brown paper, so he had no clues as to the contents Was this a sign of peace? He did feel guilty.

Mostly.

Well...enough.

Whatever it was, the parcel could wait til morning. Loki abandoned the box on his breakfast table, already thinking of what he'd have to break his fast the next morn.

The next morning Loki woke in a delightful mood. Astrid brought his favorite breakfast, his bath was delightful, and he had no boring meetings this day. He could do as he pleased. He regarded the unopened package from Claire as he ate, deciding he should open it before he began his day. He worked his fingernail beneath the seam of the neatly wrapped paper, tearing it slowly to reveal a small box with a message.

TO: Loki FROM: Claire

She'd even drawn a heart.

Loki rolled his eyes. The mortal was pathetic, but at least she had the sense to apologize for striking him. He opened the box, curious what her idea of an apology would contain.

“Ack!” Pink clouded his vision as the box practically exploded, spewing pink sparkles everywhere. Norns it was in his mouth! He spat out the flimsy paper, rage building in him. “What in Hel's name was that?!” He shouted. “Oh no. Oh, for Odin's sake!” The offending pink sparkles lay all over the table and his half-eaten breakfast, even on the floor and nearby wall. Loki scurried away from the table, a cloud of pink following after him like a shadow. “Damn her to Hel!” He shouted when he saw his reflection. He was coated in the pink sparkles of all sizes, from his hair to his waist. “Wait- is this-” he looked closer at the largest sparkles. They were- surely a woman would possess more class than this. He plucked a sparkle from his hair to inspect. It was a cock.

A pink, sparkly cock.

Claire sat in the feast hall enjoying breakfast when Loki burst in covered in garishly pink penis confetti. Claire barely contained her laughter as he glared around the great hall. His gaze darkened as it settled on her, striding determinedly across the room toward her.

“What in Hel's name is this?!” He demanded to know, slamming his large hands down on the table in front of her. “I have taken 3 baths and it will not come off.” He was indeed very sparkly today. The smaller particles of glitter coated his skin, giving him a shimmery complexion that reminded Claire of the laughable vampires in Twilight. Above his left eyebrow, a large, metallic pink dick was hanging on for its life.

“It's called glitter. It doesn't come off.” Don't look at the dick on his face, don't look at the dick on his face.

“Ever?” Bless his heart, he actually looked concerned.

“Ever,” Claire held her composure as the sparkly pink dick fell from Loki's eyebrow. “What's wrong? Did you not like it?”

“Like it?!” Loki scoffed. “My chambers are covered in this- this-” he growled. “I should make you clean it, groveling on your hands and knees like the peasant you are.” Ooooo, talk dirty to me baby.

“Are you upset about the color or the shape?” Claire asked, ignoring his threat and the heat gathering under her collar. “I thought you would like the dicks, considering you are one.”

“Mark my words, you little wretch. This is far from over,” Loki seethed, before spinning on his heel and storming out, leaving fragments of glittery hand prints behind on the table top. “What are you staring at?!” He bellowed from the hallway, startling the young women coming in to eat.

“Jesus Christ Claire,” Phil muttered from her right. “What the hell were you thinking?”

“I was thinking he could have killed me and he needs to know I'm not an easy target,” Claire replied calmly, clucking her tongue as she looked down at her plate. “Aw man, he got his dick in my eggs.”

“Ew,” Phil's nose scrunched up in disgust. “You can probably ask for new ones.”

“No way, I just got these. Besides, it's hardly the worst thing I've eaten. I'll just flick it off.”

Claire was shanghaied right after breakfast for a "family meeting", along with Phil. Odin and Frigga did not appear amused, but Thor burst into laughter when Claire walked in.

“She bested you at your own game, brother!” He guffawed, high-fiving Claire despite Phil shaking his head at them.

“This has gotten out of hand,” Odin spoke loudly over Thor. “Sit down.”

“Lady Claire, I realize you were upset by the incident at the stables. But is this not a touch extreme? What were you thinking?” Frigga asked with disappointment.

“Me?” Claire balked. “All I did was send some glitter.”

“Wildly inappropriate glitter.” Phil offered quietly beside her.

“Thank you, that's very helpful,” Claire hissed. “But this is what gets me brought in for a heart-to-heart? Nearly getting thrown off a horse is fine, but sending dick confetti is crossing the line?”

“Lady Claire-”

“I know, I know, I should be acting more ladylike, but there seems to be a double standard here. Where was Loki's meeting? Did he get a talking-to?” Loki stiffened beside her. The girl had no idea the price he'd paid.

“Loki has already apologized-”

Foolish boy! Odin's words rang in Loki's ears. The Allfather's wrath still made Loki's back ache with each breath. He'd more than paid for his reckless behavior.

“Have you? I must have missed that,” Claire looked at Loki. “You do realize you could have killed me, don't you? Killed me, because of a prank. You seem pretty smart so it must have occurred to you.”

“I expect you to apologize.” Frigga said, her tone brooking no argument.

“I'm sorry the glitter wasn't green. How's that? I thought the pink was nice. It brings out your eyes.”

“Claire!”

“What? It's true. I'm not sorry I sent it and I don’t believe in saying things I don't mean, so I won't be apologizing.” Loki gave a quiet huff. The foolish mortal had no idea the wrath she courted. He almost respected her.

“Both of you will be confined to your chambers this day,” Odin decreed curtly. “Go.”

“Your appointments will be postponed until tomorrow. I expect far, far better behavior from the both of you moving forward.” Frigga admonished them as they left.

~~~~

Claire was more than happy to spend the rest of the day alone, stewing in her apartment. Regardless of what Frigga or Odin or whoever said, she didn’t feel guilty about sending the glitter. As far as she was concerned, Loki got off easy.

A knock on her door made her roll her eyes. Apparently being confined made it easier for people to swing by and annoy her. Snapping her book shut, Claire got up to answer the door.

Njord stood outside, looking more dour than ever.

“I’ve just been informed of your...shenanigans concerning His Majesty Prince Loki,” he sneered. “May I remind you that I personally selected you for this undertaking? You should be honored to even be breathing Asgardian air, not playing childish games.” Claire didn’t appreciate this uppity fucker on Earth and she sure as hell didn’t appreciate him now.

“My shenanigans were retaliation because Prince Loki could have killed me at the stables a few days ago. But surely you knew that,” she snarled. “I didn’t ask to come here-”

“You could have refused the offer. Gods know how much easier things would be if you had!” Njord barked. “You shall keep in mind that your poor behavior reflects upon me, and I shall not have a pathetic, lowly wretch like you ruin my good image.”

“You don’t give me orders. I outrank you now.”

“You outrank no one, mortal. You are nothing until you wed the prince, and even then it is debatable.”

“Look, buddy,” Claire snarled. “You have no right to talk to me that way. For whatever reason, you pulled me into this, you chose me. Deal with it,”she straightened to her full height, satisfaction filling her when he back away. “Now get the fuck away from me, and don’t come back.” The guard at her door sprang into action, unsheathing his sword and brandishing it in Njord’s direction as he blocked the open doorway with his body.

“Step away, sire.” Njord held up his hands, backing away.

“Remember my words, mortal.”

“Get bent, you little troll,” Claire called after him. The guard sheathed his sword and relaxed. “Thank you.”

“Of course, my lady. If I may…”

“Absolutely.”

“The lord is known to have bad taste,” the guard said. “That is to say, he thinks himself superior when he is not.”

“Yeah, I got that. I thought he just didn’t like me.”

“He is unkind to everyone, my lady. My brother Agnar tells me many things.”

“I’m not surprised,” Claire muttered. “What’s your name?” she asked.

“You wish to know my name?” the guard asked in surprise. Claire shrugged.

“I’m going to be here for a while, so I should know, don’t you think?”

“As you wish, my lady,” the guard smiled, giving her a polite bow. “My name is Gunnar.”

“Pleasure to meet you, Gunnar,” Claire extended her hand, holding it out until Gunnar took it with a look of confusion. “You shake it.”

“It is my pleasure to serve you, my lady.” Gunnar graced her with a smile.

“I’m about to order a snack, do you want anything?” Claire asked. Gunnar withdrew his hand, falling back into his protective stance beside the door.

“I shouldn’t. I am on duty,” he said resolutely. “But I appreciate the thought, my lady.”

“Okay, no problem,” Claire replied. “But if you wanted a snack, what would it be? I should probably learn about all the snacks here, right?”

~~~~

25 days until the wedding

On Frigga’s insistence, Loki escorted Claire to the marketplace the following morning. Though he could practically feel himself being dragged to the gallows, he readied himself and set off to collect Claire from her rooms lest his mother drag him to meet his doom by the ear. Loki knew all too well that Frigga would do it, whether he was grown or not.

The guard at the door let him in when he arrived, announcing him as he strode inside. The two chaperones his mother had sent flanked him, their presence only announced by the swish of their skirts as they walked. Frigga brought up the rear of their small party, eager to put the ugliness of the past few days aside so that the engaged couple could begin to finally form a bond.

“Good morning, Your Majesties, my ladies,” Claire’s handmaiden Ragna greeted them with a curtsy. “My lady will be ready shortly if Your Majesty would like to wait.”

“I’m ready now, Ragna,” Claire announced as she entered the room. She drew Loki’s attention immediately, dressed in a sleeveless high-necked pale green gown with a simple silhouette. A silver band adorned her toned bicep, glinting in the soft morning light coming from the open windows. “Good morning.” she said amiably to Loki. She noted that he was distinctly glitter-free today, and she absently wondered how many baths it had taken to remove it all.

“Good morning.”

“My lady,” one of the chaperones interrupted primly. “It is customary that you use His Majesty’s title when addressing him.”

“Oh, right. Uh-”

“It is not necessary. We are simply visiting the market,” He rose to his feet gracefully. “Shall we?” Claire smiled in relief. This whole thing made her feel awkward. She and Loki had barely spoken except to argue during their limited interactions, but with just under a month until their wedding and their tense encounters only seeming to get worse, Frigga had declared it time for them to begin courting.

Claire thought the phrasing was odd considering they were definitely getting married, but she was grateful for the chance to get to know Loki better. Having dispensed her revenge with the glitter bomb, Claire was prepared to set her misgivings aside to at least try.

“Sounds good.”

~~~~

The marketplace was crowded despite the early hour. Vendors of all types shouted, hawking their wares to anyone who walked by. Women in ankle length dresses milled about, their baskets filled with unknown goods as they completed their shopping. Claire and Loki walked side by side, trailed by Frigga, who had carved out time from her busy schedule to watch over her son, as well as two of her ladies in waiting and a member of the palace guard.

At a stall selling sweets, Claire couldn’t resist the temptation and wanted to sample some of the offerings.

“I’m afraid your money is no good here.” Loki said apologetically as Claire dug for currency in her bag.

“Oh! Right, that makes sense. Is there somewhere I can exchange for the correct currency?” Claire asked.

“You could exchange it at the mint, I suppose, although…” Loki eyed the flimsy paper she held in her hand. “You might not get much.”

“Why not? What’s the exchange rate?”

“Exchange is made by weight, and that paper looks quite light.”

“By weight? You’re kidding.” Claire chuckled. “Wait, are you fucking with me?” she asked when Loki didn’t laugh along with her. Instead he smirked, his green eyes glittering with delight as he held her gaze.

“Not until we’re married, my lady.” His lewd promise caught her off guard and made her laugh, earning disapproving stares from the women watching over them.

“Nobody told me you were funny,” Claire giggled, ignoring the women. They could get stuffed. “I like it.”

“Thank you,” Loki said after a beat. “Do not worry about the money. Anything you need can be charged to my accounts.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want to spend all your money.” Loki gave her a droll look that told her she’d never accomplish that particular goal. “Oh right, you’ve got money money.” she laughed nervously.

“I am royalty, remember? Do try to keep up, Lady Claire.” Claire rolled her eyes as they moved onto the next stall.

“Well how would I know what kind of money you have? I am fresh off the boat,” Claire joked. “I’m just not used to having that kind of luxury. S.H.I.E.L.D. pays very well, but...old habits and all that.”

“I can certainly appreciate your concern, but I promise you- I will always be able to accommodate your needs, material or otherwise.” Yet another lewd promise. Claire wanted to ask about the otherwise, but one of the chaperones came over to ask if she needed anything. Claire declined, as she’d brought all of her necessities and was in no danger of running out.

“Shall we move along?” Loki asked. They began to move again, passing florists, weavers, and leather workers. Claire lingered at the stall of a glass artisan, admiring a set of colored glass wind chimes. “If there is nothing you need, perhaps you will find something you like. Consider it a welcoming gift.”

“That’s very kind of you,” Claire smiled. “Where is your favorite place to go in the market?”

“There is a bookseller not far from here,” Loki suggested, grinning when Claire perked up. She let her fingers trail over the polished glass before she stepped away.

“I like books,” she smiled. “Lead the way.” Loki returned the smile easily, charmed by her enthusiasm. He offered her his arm, waiting for her to take it before steering them through the crowded street. Frigga and her handmaidens followed behind, discreetly watching their not-date from a distance.

The bookseller was a charming two-story corner lot with a stone facade. A wooden sign hung from a metal post above the door, the chain creaking as the sign moved in the light breeze. Loki opened the heavy wooden door, holding it open for her to step inside.

Stepping inside was like entering another dimension. Rows upon rows of high sturdy shelves filled the cavernous space. Vaulted ceilings of wood beams framed the room, which seemed to go on forever. Claire spied the top of an archway leading deeper into the shop, with more shelves visible beyond. Metal chandeliers hung from the ceilings, the multiple circles of candles casting more than enough light to navigate the walkways. A railing overlooked the main room, showing another maze of book shelves to be explored.

“What sort of books do you enjoy, Lady Claire?” Loki asked from behind her. Claire hesitated to answer, still drinking in the atmosphere. Somehow she didn’t think her usual fare of paranormal romance would be found here, much less accepted.

“Have you heard of Edgar Allan Poe?” she asked over her shoulder. Loki’s face brightened as he stepped deeper into the store to allow the women behind them to enter. Frigga and the women began to browse a nearby shelf. Loki steered Claire toward the opposite shelf with a hand on her lower back.

“I have, actually. I don’t believe we will find any of his work here. His stories are a bit grim, but I enjoy them all the same.”

“Do you have a favorite?” Claire pressed as they began to browse the stacks.

“Of course,” Loki grinned. “I quite enjoyed The Cask of Amontillado. It’s perfect in my opinion. Revenge, forcing your mortal enemy to face their own mortality…” he trailed off, a nervous laugh escaping him. “Forgive me, that was probably-”

“Not at all. That’s exactly what I liked about it,” Claire laughed. Loki looked relieved, a small smile gracing his features. He was kind of adorable when he wasn’t being a jerk. “What did you think of The Tell-Tale Heart?”

“Ah! It was...well,” Loki suddenly looked smaller, almost unsure of himself. “I understand how the protagonist feels, I shall say that.”

“I get it.”

“You do?” Loki asked skeptically, looking up from the book he’d pulled from the shelf.

“Of course,” Claire said. “My line of work isn’t always sunshine and roses. I’ve had to make calls that still get to me from time to time.”

“Forgive me, I was told of your experience as a soldier but it had not occurred to me that you would have taken life.” Loki mused, his jaw clenching when one of their chaperones interrupted.

“This is hardly appropriate conversation for a lady,” the woman scoffed, her voice the perfect blend of motherly disapproval and disappointment. “Murder! And reading!”

“As if that’s worse,” Claire whispered. Loki snickered beside her, making her laugh as well. “Not the literature!”

“Probably concerned about you getting ideas.” Loki muttered as the matron continued to scold them about their improper behavior.

“How terrible; a woman having thoughts of her own!”

“Outlandish,” Loki shook his head. “Would you like to see the upstairs?”

“Is the rainbow bridge multi-colored? Let’s go!” Claire took off at a fast clip, disappearing around a bookshelf. She came back a moment later looking sheepish. “I have no idea where I’m going. Why don’t you lead?” Loki snorted, grasping her by the shoulders and turning her to face the opposite direction. “Oh. Right.” Claire laughed when she saw the staircase leading up.

“You are perhaps the most ridiculous person I’ve ever met.”

“I’m choosing to accept that as a compliment,” Claire said confidently. “C’mon, let’s go!”

“Your Majesty-” their chaperone from earlier stopped them from leaving. “You cannot-”

“Oh will you cease?” Loki hissed. “We are in public, the chance of scandal is highly unlikely.”

“It is highly improper-”

“This is nonsense,” Loki scoffed angrily. “Madam, this is difficult enough without your constant harping-”

“Loki that is rude,” Frigga chided as she appeared from the other side of a different bookshelf. “I know I taught you better.”

“Mother, please,” Loki sighed. “You have asked us to get to know each other and we are trying. We might even succeed, but for your crones constantly picking apart our every interaction!”

“The girl must learn if she is to succeed, Your Majesty.”

“The girl is right here.” Claire added sullenly. Loki glanced at her apologetically.

“Making her doubt her every action is hardly the way to teach her,” Loki scoffed, glaring at the matron. “I understand we must have chaperones, but perhaps the constant correction could be less so? And to what point and purpose would we stand on ceremony when we are alone?”

“Lady Claire does need to learn, dearest.” Frigga said.

“Is that not the point of lessons?” Loki asked curtly.

“The lady’s lessons begin tomorrow.”

“Oh for Odin’s sake,” Loki growled. “We are going upstairs to peruse the books. Mother, control your crones or I shall enchant the staircase to make them fall.”

“Loki!”

“Rest assured, mother, nothing untoward will happen!” Loki said heatedly, urging Claire toward the stairs and following swiftly behind.

“Thanks.” Claire said once they were among the upstairs shelves.

“It is of no consequence. They are annoying.” Claire didn’t respond, but Loki heard her giggle.

“So I realized that I can’t actually read any of these books. Talk about a language barrier.” she grimaced.

“Would you like to see a trick?” Loki asked.

“Of course.”

“Pick a book.” Loki instructed, jutting his chin toward the rows of books. He trailed after Claire as she brushed her finger along the spines, settling on a thick leather-bound book with a hand-painted cover. She held it out to him, holding it along as he opened it and thumbed to the middle. Loki drew his hand across the open pages, altering the text of the book. Claire gaped as the words changed to English before her eyes.

“Kick ass,” she laughed. “That’s amazing. Thank you.”

“Of course,” Loki felt an odd stirring in his gut as Claire closed the book and hugged it to her chest. “Shall I give you a tour?”

“Yes please.”

~~~~

After a thorough tour of the upstairs, Claire and Loki had a stack of books each. Claire had learned that Loki was very well-read, so much so that he was familiar with many works from Earth. To her surprise, the prince had a fondness for poetry that matched her own.

They were having a spirited discussion of the works of Keats versus Frost as they went back downstairs to rejoin the others. Loki had tried to carry her books for her but Claire had stubbornly insisted on holding onto them.

“Hey Loki?”

“Yes?”

“Lady Claire?” one of the ladies chirped from where they stood. Her annoying throat clear reminded Claire of Dolores Umbridge.

“It’s fine. I don’t care if my betrothed doesn’t use my title every time she addresses me,” Loki brushed the woman off, looking over at Claire. “I apologize. What were you going to say?”

“It’s fine.” Claire shook her head. She could get a snack back at the palace.

“No, you were about to ask me something and you were interrupted,” he glared at the woman who’d piped up to correct her. “What was it?” Claire grinned, pleased that he had stood up for her.

“I was going to ask if we could get something to eat. We missed lunch.”

“So we did,” Loki smiled. He glanced at their stacks of books almost fondly. “There is somewhere nearby we could go, but it is hardly a venue fit for a princess.” Claire snorted, not caring in the slightest.

“Dude, I grew up poor in LA. My taste in cuisine isn’t exactly high brow.”

“As my lady wishes. Excuse me.” Loki acquiesced, striding away to find Frigga among the shelves. Her found her around the corner with the second lady in waiting.

“Hello mother.” it pleased him greatly to be able to see her in person again. Speaking with her double was not the same.

“Loki!” Frigga greeted him happily, filling him with warmth. “Darling, it is past lunch. We should return before we are late for our afternoon appointments.”

“Ah,” Loki had forgotten about their second visit to the tailor. “Mother, Claire has asked that we find something to eat. Since I kept her so late, it would be rude of me to return her to her chambers hungry.” The corners of Frigga’s mouth turned up, a hint of a smile betraying her pleasure at the budding bond that Loki and Claire seemed to be forming already.

“Quite right, but my ladies and I cannot stay.”

“That’s fine.” Loki replied swiftly.

“But you know you can’t go alone.”

“Mother-”

“It isn’t proper, Loki, you know this,” Frigga said gently. “Circumstances are what they are, but appearances must be kept.”

“Appearances are exhausting,” Loki rolled his eyes. “It would be much easier to get to know her without an audience.”

“I believe I saw Fandral-”

“Oh Gods, no! Don’t do that to me, Mother, please.”

“Fandral or the crones, Loki,” Frigga said sternly. “That is how it must be,” she patted his cheek fondly. “It is less than three weeks away.” Loki groaned like a petulant child, making Frigga smile. Her youngest son had always been the more dramatic of the two, and it comforted her to know that neither age nor time apart had changed that.

“Fine,” Loki snarled. “If Fandral’s presence is absolutely necessary, I will accept it. But I will stab him-”

“You will do no such thing.” Frigga replied, completely unphased by the threat.

“Yes I will,” Loki vowed. “I stabbed him when we were young and I’ll do it again.”

“You are still young, my darling,” Frigga said fondly, cupping his cheek to bring his line of sight back to hers. “There will be no stabbing.”

“But Mother-”

“Perhaps you would prefer the crones?”

“Ugh, no,” Loki groaned. “But what if he flirts with her? May I stab him then?”

“Fandral may be amorous, but he is not so stupid as to flirt with the future princess royal.”

“Are you certain, Mother? I’ve seen him flirt with drapery.” Loki said flatly. Frigga made a noise low in her throat, chewing her lower lip in a rare show of worry.

“Perhaps the crones would be better in that case. Lady Claire is far more attractive than drapery, wouldn’t you say?” she glanced to the side, drawing Loki’s attention to Claire as she stood by a window perusing a new book she had found. The sunlight behind her bathed her in a golden halo, the vision broken by the heavy book toppling to the ground and his future bride swearing as she dropped to her knees to get it. The crones descended immediately, scolding her up one side and down the other for everything from swearing to picking up her own book. Loki saw Claire roll her eyes as she made a show of getting back up to let the guard pick up the book, and the foreign fluttering in his belly started again.

“I swear to Bor if he so much as looks at her the wrong way I will end his entire bloodline.” Frigga sighed heavily, unsurprised by the threat but weary all the same.

“I would prefer if you did not, but at least try to be subtle if you must.”

“I was subtle last time!” Loki gasped in offense. “You only heard about it because Thor cannot keep a secret to save his life.” Frigga slapped at his arm, clucking her tongue disapprovingly.

“And what will your future wife think if you stab someone simply for talking to her?”

“Based on our limited interactions, I believe she may be doing the stabbing herself.” Loki said smugly. Frigga sighed again, wondering what nonsense she would be subjected to in the future.

“Norns help me.” she muttered to herself.

“Norns help Fandral,” Loki cackled. “I’ve changed my mind, Mother. I’ll greet the fool happily. Excuse me,” He left her side to sweep Claire away from the crones. “Have you decided which books you would like?”

“They all look interesting, but I can’t decide which one to get,” Claire replied. “Which one would you suggest?”

“Who said anything about deciding?” Loki asked. “Do you want them?”

“Well...yes.”

“Then you shall have them,” Loki said easily. “Have these charged to my accounts and bring this stack to Lady Claire’s chambers.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.” The guard escorting their party gathered the books from Claire and Loki and headed toward the front of the shop.

“Thank you.” Claire smiled.

“Of course,” Loki grinned back. “Now, we should get you something to eat before you perish.”

“It’s nowhere near that dire,” Claire laughed. “But yes, food is great.”

“My mother insists we still have chaperones, but-”

“More crones?”

“No, which is possibly both a blessing and a curse. She insists my brothers friend Fandral accompanies us, as she and the crones have duties back at the palace.” Claire noted the snarl in his voice as he said the newcomers name, logging the detail away to study later. There was clearly a history there she needed to know about.

~~~~

Watching Fandral eat, all while he talked, drank, and flirted his way through the staff, Claire decided the scorn was well earned and maybe she didn’t need to know the full history between him and her future husband. Fandral was making the reason Loki disliked him rather obvious as he shared story after boastful story of his exploits rather than let the newly engaged couple get to know each other.

When her attempts to speak with Loki were interrupted a third time, Claire decided politeness was getting them nowhere.

“I helped defeat the destroyer, you know,” Fandral said pompously. “The weapon this one sent to your planet,” he added unnecessarily as he stuffed food in his mouth. “Has he told you about that yet?”

“No,” Claire replied. “But I knew. I was there.”

“You were?” Loki asked in surprise.

“Yeah, I worked for S.H.I.E.L.D., dummy,” Claire laughed lightheartedly. “I was one of the first agents on the scene when Mjolnir touched down.”

“Is that so?” Fandral asked with awe. “So then you witnessed our glorious victory!”

“I witnessed your glorious retreat, you mean,” Claire corrected. Beside her, Loki choked on his ale before covering his laughter with a polite cough. “It was Thor that defeated the destroyer after you and your companions fell back to evacuate.”

“Well-I-we helped!” Fandral stammered, his face a scorching tomato red.

“You did, that’s true,” Claire nodded. “But I don’t think you can say you personally defeated the destroyer when Thor did eighty-five percent of the work.”

“Quite a strategic mind you have, Lady Claire. Clever,” Fandral replied with false cheer. He turned his gaze to her right, settling his ire on Loki. “Does it bother you to hear of your past losses, Loki?”

“Not at all,” Loki replied, his voice seductively calm. “A warrior is always open to criticism, so that he may improve for the future.” He and Fandral glared at each other across the table, the tension between them palpable.

Claire watched on as they continued to attempt to murder each other with their gazes, eyes bouncing back and forth with amusement. It was clear that Fandral wanted Loki to look bad, but Claire wasn’t sure why. It wasn’t as though she would be calling off the wedding to run off with Fandral. Maybe this needed further examination after all. Claire could only hope that if things came to blows, that someone brought her a drink refill first.

If it came to it, Claire would put her money on Loki. He’d been nothing but polite and kind on today’s outing, but the man clearly had buckets of rage and Fandral was an idiot. It might would be amusing to watch Loki bash his face in.

The tense spell did not end in violence, but was instead broken by a serving girl bearing a platter of some kind of raw fish. Claire perked up and leaned over to inspect it, but couldn’t quite identify it.

“It’s eel,” Loki said helpfully, bringing the dish closer to her. “It’s one of my favorites. Would you like some?”

“Awesome,” Claire said excitedly. “I haven’t had sushi in ages.”

“Your people consume raw fish?” Fandral asked with disbelief, his eyes wide as he watched Loki serve Claire then himself from the platter.

“Not all of us, but yes. It’s something of a delicacy. I’m guessing you don’t like it?”

“Why would I, it’s disgusting.” Fandral sneered, his lip curling in disgust as Claire savored the first piece.

It was so fresh. Claire was in heaven- not even the best sushi she’d had on Earth was this delicious.

“How do you know you don’t like it if you haven’t tried it?” Claire asked innocently. “Don’t tell me a strapping warrior such as yourself is afraid of a little fish?”

“Hardly,” Fandral scoffed, clearly offended by her tone. “To my knowledge only the Jotunn consumed fish raw. You know about them, I assume?”

Loki, who had been chuckling to himself throughout their exchange, stilled beside her. Another strike for Fandral.

“Is that your subtle way of asking if I know Loki’s heritage?” Claire asked tersely. She looked at the tense man beside her, putting a hand on top of his vambrace to reassure him. “It’s okay. It doesn’t bother me,” Fandral noted the contact with curiosity- touching the royal family simply wasn’t done, but the youngest prince detested being touched. Lady Claire had managed to commit two faux pas in one motion, the silly girl. And yet, to Fandral’s surprise, Loki made no move to disengage her. “What do I need to know?”

“There are several library books-”

“You’re the resident expert, are you?” Claire asked sharply. “I was asking Loki.” she looked over at him expectantly, giving him pause.

“Erm-”

“Ah, well-”

“Excuse me,” Claire spoke over Fandral, her patience at the breaking point. “You interrupted Loki,” she patted his arm as she looked back to him. “Go ahead.”

“I was simply going to say I don’t wish to talk about it, in present company or otherwise.”

“Okay,” Claire nodded, accepting his reply without question. Loki studied her as she returned to her eel. The woman confused him and Loki didn’t like it. Unknowns made him uncomfortable. Was she not going to pester him to speak? Was she not curious about the monster he truly was? This woman he was coming to know seemed incongruous with the wicked trickster who sent him pornographic glitter. “You don’t like people who are different, do you?” the venom in Claire’s voice drew Loki’s attention. Her ire was striking, and rather satisfying, as she made Fandral squirm under her steely gaze.

“And you do?” Fandral asked defensively.

“I know how alienating it can feel,” Claire replied. “Where I grew up, the Latinx and bipoc communities were the majority. I wasn’t exactly an outsider, but people who looked like me were pretty rare.” As if sensing he was outnumbered, Fandral made a quiet retreat and the rest of their meal passed without incident. Claire emerged from the restaurant certain that she shared Loki’s disdain for Fandral. As much as she wished to be rid of him, he still had to escort them back to the palace.

They traveled back through the marketplace, somehow even busier than it had been earlier. Loki looked on as Claire struggled to take it all in, wondering if her slender neck would withstand the constant back and forth as she took in all the sights around them. He slowed his pace to allow her more time, and giving them more distance between themselves and Fandral.

“Is this very different from your home?” he asked.

“I’ve been to places like this, when I would travel for work, but where I’m from markets like this weren’t very common. Most people do their shopping indoors at different places.” Loki’s nose wrinkled as he contemplated how annoying that much be. Claire thought it was cute.

“Why?” Loki asked. “I imagine it would be useful to have indoor markets in inclement weather, but...all the time? And the travel to different vendors- when one could be literally steps away!” he gestured toward the stalls to illustrate his point. “To what end?”

“Capitalism.” Claire said flatly.

“Capitalism?”

“Yeah,” Claire sighed with exasperation. “It sucks big ol’ donkey balls.”

“I beg your pardon?” Loki gaped at her, laughter bubbling up in his chest despite him. He’d never heard a woman speak so crudely, and he was equally delighted and stunned. “That is...certainly an image I could do without.”

“It’s true!” Claire chirped loudly, drawing stares from passersby. “If you really want to know about it, I can explain it. Just know it’s an over-complicated, ugly system of economics that revolves around money.”

“How charming.”

“That’s one word for it.” Claire laughed, stopping short as she and Loki nearly ran into Fandral, who had stopped unexpectedly in front of them.

“I need to visit the armorer.” he announced suddenly, forcing them to change directions and head deeper in the marketplace and away from the palace. Despite wanting to be done with Fandral, Claire felt she and Loki were at least getting off to a good start and wanted to spend more time speaking with him.

The armorer was a unique vendor, as they had a building behind their outdoor stall. Inside, Claire could hear the clang of heavy hammer meeting metal and the flickering of flame. Thick black smoke poured from the chimney above, giving some relief from the unrelenting sun. Outside in the stall, the large rectangular tables were covered with knives and swords. Baskets of locks, keys, horseshoes, hinges and nails dotted the displays. On the back table beside the scattered armor and helmets, Claire spotted a spiked mace in the corner, and her fingers itched to test it out on Fandral’s face.

“This is so cool.” she remarked, turning her attention to the knives in front of her. As she was inspecting a set of throwing daggers, Fandral stepped up beside them.

“I have to go inside for a moment,” he said, as if they cared. “Don’t wander off.”

“Damn, that’s exactly what I was planning to do.” Claire replied sarcastically. The corners of Loki’s mouth turned up as his finger traced the pearl handles of a set of daggers appreciatively. He admired her wit.

“Lady Claire-”

“I was kidding! Just do what you do,” Fandral eyes her skeptically, staying in place. “We’re not five. We’ll be right here looking at knives.”

“That is what concerns me.” Fandral finally left them to run his dumb errand, leaving Claire and Loki alone for the first time since meeting. Well, except for the merchant standing nearby awkwardly.

“Hey,” Claire said quickly, getting Loki’s attention. “I’m sorry about earlier.”

“Whatever for?” Loki asked. “That is not the first time Fandral has been rude to me, nor will it be the last. I’m not a child. You’ve no need to apologize to me.”

“I know you’re not, I just meant- I could tell you were uncomfortable. He was a dick to bring it up.”

“’It’ being the fact that I’m a monster?”

“I didn’t say that.” Claire argued.

“But I’m sure you think it-”

“Whoa, buddy, lemme stop you right there. If I think something, you can be damn sure I’ll tell you. I understand there are things about you I don’t know, and yes I have questions, but I’m not going to be a dick about it like him,” Claire glanced toward the armorer’s shop to illustrate her point. “I’m trusting that as an adult, you will tell me when you’re ready.” Loki scoffed.

“Because you care so deeply for my feelings after a week?”

“Five thousand years is a long time,” Claire replied placidly. “No sense in starting off at each other’s throats,” she pulled her arm from his. “At least more than we already have. But message received. I won’t bring it up again,” she promised. “Now tell me about these knives.”

As the merchant stepped closer to display his wares, Loki watched on. Claire was well-acquainted with knives, he learned, watching her pepper the merchant with questions as she ran her thumb delicately along the cheek of the blade.

He wanted to see her use it.

The funny feeling in his stomach returned as he considered what he had learned about her in the short time they’d been acquainted. She was well-read (barring her erroneous appreciation for Frost), and appreciated similar cuisines. She was mischievous, as her trick with the glitter had shown.

“I regret my actions at the stables,” he found himself blurting. “I should not have been so careless.”

“No you shouldn’t have,” Claire replied bluntly. “If this is your attempt at getting an apology for the glitter, it’s not going to work. I can’t be guilted for something I don’t regret.” Loki huffed in amusement.

His future wife was bold as could be.

“I suppose I can admit it was...deserved.”

“Very well deserved,” Claire corrected him. “I see you managed to get most of it off.”

“Mostly, yes,” Loki agreed. “Although it lingers horribly.”

“That’s the point,” Claire turned her wolfish smile on him, making the funny feeling return with a vengeance. “I’m kind of sad I missed the explosion.”

“It was rather forceful,” Loki chuckled. “One of the pieces found its way into my mouth.”

She was a creature of beauty, the afternoon sun making her face glow as she threw her head back in loud, raucous laughter. Loki barely minded that she was laughing at him, the absurdity of it all beginning to make him laugh as well.

“That’s amazing. I regret nothing,” she said breathlessly as she collected herself. “Truce?” she requested as Fandral returned.

“Ready to go?”

Loki was beyond ready. He wanted to get away from this strange woman and the strange feelings she stirred in him.

20 days until the wedding

Apart from meals, Claire did not see Loki the day after their trip to the market. She was still digesting the hefty discoveries from the day, so it didn’t bother her. The man was odd, to say the least.

Odd, but thoughtful.

The books she had picked out had been waiting for her the following morning, wrapped with loving care by the bookseller. Atop the package had been a parcel of the sweets she had wanted to try, along with a note which read simply Truce.

Since she’d had nothing on her pre-wedding agenda for that morning, she had picked a book and a few pieces of candy to test out before stretching along the plush couch. The pink taffy-like candy was delicious, proving that pink candies were the best, even in space. The yellow however, had been spat out almost immediately. Claire enjoyed the tastes of banana and mayonnaise, but not together. Afraid to try the other candies, she’d set them aside for later snacking.

Lunch was uneventful except for catching up with her uncle. They exchanged excited whispers of what they had learned about life in Asgard before Claire had to meet the healer to prove she could in fact have Loki’s babies. The middle-aged looking woman who examined Claire answered her questions as though speaking to a child, all while asking her invasive questions about what she ate and the date of her last period and her last bowel movement.

Claire wasn’t sure why she needed to know about that, but answered anyway. She couldn’t exactly refuse.

She was dismissed promptly one hour after arriving, feeling as though her forehead bore a large stamp reading FERTILE AF as Ragna walked her back to her chambers. It was fucking degrading. She felt like nothing more than a glorified brood mare brought to stable to breed the next great racehorse, and as soon as she got back to her rooms she sank into a steaming bath in a sour mood.

The dress Ragna set out for her was beautiful, but Claire was still in a funk and felt more like a child playing dress up than a soon-to-be royal.

She didn’t see Loki during dinner, which was a small mercy because she was still angry at him, but the food- normally something shiny and novel- sat heavy and uneasy in her stomach.

She would kill for a burger and beer.

When she eventually went to bed later that night, she told herself it was a bad day and she was still adjusting. Things would get better.

She hoped.

19 days until the wedding

Phil’s experience in Asgard was much more peaceful than Claire’s. His rooms were elegant and classy, the staff he’d been assigned made his day even smoother than usual, and he was allowed mostly to do whatever he wished. He spent a great deal of time in the library, learning what he could about Asgard. Today however, the library had lost its appeal and Phil instead sought out answers.

“How is the wedding planning is going? I haven’t seen much of Claire the past few days.” Phil had hoped to find Frigga, but surprisingly had found Odin instead.

“Ah yes, she is rather busy with my wife Frigga and also Loki, if only intermittently. It is custom that newlyweds share a dance at the feast following the ceremony and they must meet to practice. It is-” Odin began to laugh. “If my wife is to be believed, despite their improved interactions, they still bicker like children.”

“I’m sure she and Loki are getting along wonderfully.” Phil said jokingly. He imagined they were rather unfriendly with one another, if their first meeting was any indication.

“Frigga tells me they bicker over the littlest things; quite passionately if she is to be believed. Just this morning she mentioned that Lady Claire lost her temper with Loki and struck him rather forcefully before storming off. Norns know what that boy did to get such a rise out of her,” Odin chuckled. “If I did not know better, I would say it’s almost as if they each enjoy antagonizing the other.”

“I figured as much. Claire can be very stubborn when she wants to be.”

“As can Loki. I suppose we must pray they don’t kill each other.”

“You don’t really think they would, do you?” Phil asked with concern.

“No. Loki is fully aware of the consequences that would befall him should any harm come to Claire. His freedom hinges upon their marriage succeeding. Should it fail, for whatever reason, he will return to his cell for the rest of his days.”

“That’s…comforting.” Phil said, tucking his hands in his pockets. Odin gave a bemused grin.

“I understand you are worried for Lady Claire, being her only family. We will see that all of her needs are met, and you may visit at any time should you wish.”

“Why is it that I can come and go as I please but Claire is only allowed to visit Earth once a year?”

“I only say that as a precaution. Given her soon-to-be elevated status, she could potentially be at risk from anyone wishing her harm. We wish to avoid that,” Odin explained. “That can always be changed later, depending on the response to the marriage on Midgard. I know it may seem as if we are keeping her from her home, but I assure you it is only for protection. This is why I allow you to come as you please; I do not wish you or Claire to feel isolated from one another in these challenging times. You are always welcome here, Son of Coul.”

“Thank you for that,” Phil smiled. “I’ll return to Earth after the wedding and bring Claire’s things as soon as I can.”

“As you wish.” Odin nodded.

“I assume Claire will be granted immortality after the wedding.”

“You are correct, however it must wait until later in the year.”

“Why the delay?” Phil asked accusingly.

“Peace, Son of Coul. I bear no ill will to my new daughter,” Odin soothed him. “It is merely because the crop is not ready.”

“The crop? Oh right, the apples.”

“Yes, the apples will not be ready until the autumn. Lady Claire will receive her own apple alongside everyone else,” Odin assured Phil. “Do not worry too much over her; we both know she is more than capable of fending for herself,” he chuckled. “I believe it is almost time for supper; would you care to walk with me?”

“Sure,” Phil said. “Do you think they are fighting?” he asked as they began to walk inside.

“I am sure they are,” Odin chuckled. “Perhaps they will keep us entertained with their bickering.”

Upon reaching the great hall, they were indeed greeted by the sight of Loki and Claire seated side by side, both glaring heatedly at the other. Odin and Phil parted; Odin taking his seat at the head of the table and Phil sitting on the opposite side of Claire.

“How are things?” he greeted his niece, only to receive a withering glare.

“Fabulous.” She grouched, thanking a servant as she brought them goblets of wine.

“You needn’t do that,” Loki muttered beside her. “It’s her job.”

“Well on Earth we thank the people that bring us things,” Claire answered. “Not all of us are pompous assholes.” Phil sighed beside her.

“Really Claire?” he chastised. “Can we have one night without fighting?”

“Yes, really.” Claire hissed as she began to sip her wine.

“Must you complain about everything?” Loki interjected. “I don’t believe you’ve uttered one sentence that has not been a complaint since you arrived.”

“That’s not true; calling you an asshole wasn’t a complaint. It was an observation.” Claire responded petulantly, taking another sip of her wine.

“You’re a brat.” Loki hissed.

“But a correct one. Big words, by the way, from the god they call Silvertongue. I’d have thought your vocabulary would be more expansive the way people carried on. How’s your leg?” Claire asked with false concern.

“Completely healed, thank you for asking.”

“That’s a shame! Though you know if you weren’t such an ass I wouldn’t have kicked you.”

“Perhaps if you would learn to not stomp on my feet my manners would improve.”

“That was one time!” Claire objected.

“No, it was several times!” Loki seethed. “Are you truly incapable of learning one simple dance?”

“Maybe I could if you didn’t drag me around at a million miles an hour! It’s called patience, you twat.”

“Claire, that’s enough! People are staring.” Phil reprimanded her roughly. Claire turned to glare at him, only to notice that he was right; the entire room was focused on her and Loki.

“Very mature, your niece.” Loki muttered in Phil’s direction.

“Shut up,” Claire seethed. “You’re no better.”

“At least I don’t go about kicking people in the shin.”

“You deserved it.”

“Silence, both of you,” Frigga snapped curtly. “This is no way to behave.”

“Yes Mother,” Loki replied ruefully, turning his attention to his plate with a sullen look on his face. He glared over at Claire; this was entirely her fault, the intolerable little brat. “Well done darling, you’ve managed to make dinner more interesting than it has been in years.” He complimented her sarcastically.

“Bite me mama’s boy; you started it.” Claire hissed. Beside her, Phil facepalmed as the engaged couple began bickering yet again.

“Woman!” Loki slammed his goblet down, sloshing blood red wine upon the crisp white tablecloth. He opened his mouth to hurl another insult at her, but Frigga caught him by the ear and pulled him to her.

“Loki, I have had it with your behavior. I raised you better than to speak to a woman like that. If you are unable to speak to your future wife with civility then do not speak at all,” She scolded him heatedly. “Apologize to her immediately.” Loki clenched his jaw, about to refuse when Frigga raised a brow warningly. He growled and turned to look at Claire, looking dainty and innocent as she pushed her food around her plate.

“I apologize for my rudeness.” He said sullenly. Claire looked over at him with benign interest, playing her part of the innocent victim well.

“Pardon?” she asked.

“You heard me.” Loki grouched.

“No, actually, I didn’t. Can you repeat that please?” Claire requested. Loki growled; the little nuisance was doing this intentionally. Damn her.

“Loki…” Frigga coached beside him. “Your bride-to-be did not hear you.”

“I said, I apologize!” Loki hissed loudly. “Did you hear me that time?” he asked arrogantly.

“Yes, thank you!” Claire chirped, smiling sweetly at him. Plague take her. Just when they’d started to improve their relationship, she began acting like a child again. Mercifully, they passed the rest of the meal without speaking, but there were occasional lingering glances.

Claire seemed agitated whenever he caught her staring, the tops of her cheeks turning a charming pink as she looked away.

He understood the feeling well, for he found it increasingly difficult not to stare at her.

[moody4world]

Real rider

A/N(?): i am !!NOT!! a writer, everything i write and post is simply for fun and not to be taken seriously

equestrian y/n teaching jack the basics of horse riding for churchill downs mv

this is fluff

Jack had just dropped his brand new album called home the kids miss you. He had already recorded a music video for first class but he was mostly excited to film his music video for churchill downs with THE drake himself.

He had proposed his idea of what he’d want to include in the music video to his directors and one of those scenes included jack riding a horse. Only problem with that was that Jack had never ridden a horse in his life. But he was dead set on having this in his music video.

“Come on Neelam there’s gotta be someone you know that can teach me, I mean how hard can it be right?” “Oh you’d be surprised, I do know someone and it’s definitely not as easy as you think Jack, you want to learn how to ride a horse at a high speed in the span of a few days when you’ve never even sat on a horse before, be for real.”

Jack stared at Neelam looking very offended but he knew she had a point. A really good one at that. But the last thing he was going to do is give up. “Okay okay that’s true but if they’re such a professional i can at least learn the basics right? I just really want this to look cool as fuck.”

“Fine i’ll give her a call later and see what I can do for you.”

“This is exactly why I never fired you.”

“Jack what the hell?”

“I’m kidding i’m kidding…wait did you say she?”

“Uh…yeah is that a problem?”

“No of course not I just thought it’d be a guy”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I’ve just never seen you hang out with a horse girl before.”

“Oh god please don’t call her that or she’ll flip her shit. She hates it when people call her that.”

“Gee thanks for the heads up.”

Later that day you were watching a random movie that was recommended to you by a friend on netflix when your phone started ringing. You picked it up to see it was Neelam and you accepted the call. “Hey Neelam what’s up?” You said while stuffing your face with popcorn. “Hi y/n! just work and more work, you know how it is.” “Yeah that’s literally all you do, why’d you call though? is everything okay?”

“Yeah yeah everything is great..but”

“Uh oh what is it?”

“It’s nothing bad but I just need you to do me this one favor for the next two weeks and I promise i’ll pay you and everything just please help me out or this boy won’t leave me alone.” Neelam rambled

“You had me at the word pay but what do I have to do for the next two weeks? thats a lot of days.”

“Can you teach Jack how to ride a horse for his music video?”

You paused your movie at the mention of Jack’s name and put your bowl of popcorn on the coffee table in front of you.

“Uhm yeah..yeah sure that’s fine I can do that. When do we start?”

“Are you available this friday?”

“Yeah that’s perfect, i’m sure you remember where the ranch is so i’ll see you then.”

“Thank you so so much y/n i’ll text you a time and more details later okay?”

“Okay byee”

You let out a heavy sigh after you both hung up. “I haven’t seen Jack in person in years…will he even recognize me? okay he probably will you haven’t changed THAT much y/n come on. Yeah that’s true…ugh i really hope he’s nicer now cause that dumpling joke was so annoying….it was kinda cute tho. Girl snap out of it. I’m literally having a whole dialogue with myself about this and I haven’t even started teaching him yet jesus christ.”

Everyone talks to themselves….I just happen to do it a lot more than usual and there’s nothing wrong with that. I knew Jack since middle school, we always had the same classes and he would sit near my lunch table and our friends usually hung out together. He never bullied me or anything like that cause i’d refuse to let a young jb look alike who raps to bully me. He just always pointed out things that made me feel slightly embarrassed. Like that one time he called my kermit and mrs. piggy socks cute which made his friends laugh about it. He apologized afterwards and said he really meant it but I mean who knows.

Friday comes around and I made sure I got to the ranch early to set everything up. I got the horses ready and even had enough time left to have a quick snack. A few minutes after I was done, I saw Neelam walking in with Jack. I walked over, meeting them half way. Neelam gives me a tight hug swaying us side to side as we always did when we see each other. “y/n!!!! hiiii” “It’s been way too long Nee” “I knooow this guy keeps me way too busy.” She says pointing towards Jack who’s standing there all awkward with his hands behind his back. He puts his hand forward and I do the same shaking his hand “Jack” “y/n” there’s an awkward silence between the three of us until Neelam clears her throat and breaks the silence “Oh..kay uh i’m gonna go and leave you two to it then. y/n good luck with this one.” “I think i’m gonna need it so thanks” “I’m standing right here…you guys realize that right?”Neelam laughs and walks towards the exit of the ranch. Once Neelam was out of earshot Jack turns to me and goes. “Long time no see y/n l/n” ugh here he goes with the last name. For some reason he could never just say my first name like everyone else. “Yeah long time no see…clearly not much has changed.” “I don’t see why that’s a bad thing dumpling.”

There it is..that old nickname. I didn’t want to have feelings for this guy but the butterflies were unavoidable at this point. He’s taller now, he has a nice beard, his hair is curlier, his voice is also deeper but his cute goofy smile is still the same and clearly the nicknames too. “I was hoping you’d forget about that name.” I said awkwardly. “I did until I saw your chubby cheeks again.” “Stop pointing it out” I said defensively but in a joking way, he laughs and puts his hands up in defense “I’ll stop…no promises.”

“Okay enough talking let’s get started or we’ll never get you to ride a horse in time for your music video.” “Okay let’s go”

Getting Jack to even get on a horse was harder than you expected.

“Pay attention to what I do so you can do it after me.” I get on the horse making sure to do it at a pace that he can follow and once i’m seated i turn to him and tell him to do what I did. Since he’s tall you would think its much easier but nope. This guy took like 5 minutes to even get on the horse, to be fair I didn’t pick our nicest horse for him either but he got on eventually. I got a good laugh out of seeing him struggle with something that was so easy to me though, no regrets so far.

After we did a little bit of trotting we took the horses for short walk before calling it a day. “So..how do you know Neelam?” he asked me out of no where “Uh…we met through a mutual friend” “Why are you lying?” “Who says i’m lying?” I was definitely lying, but how did he know that??? did Neelam tell him how we met?

No probably not cause he didn’t even know I was his instructor. “You did that awkward smile you used to do when you lie….so how did you guys really meet?”How does he even remember that?! i’m feeling those stupid butterflies again too get it together y/n. “Okay fine, I used to date her cousin a few years back and we got really close.” “Used to?” I don’t remember Jack being this nosey damn “You sure are nosey Jackman.” he shrugged.

“Not nosey just curious. I’d hate to be your ex, I know he feels stupid.” “You don’t even know what caused the break up.” “By your body language i can tell he’s the one that fucked up though.” “Yeah he did but i’ve been over it for a while now.” “Any new dudes in your life?” “No, just enjoying life as it comes these days. How about you mister rapper? new groupie every night or what?” “Who’s the nosey one now huh?” he says with a smirk. I know he did not just flip the script on me. “You asked a bunch of questions and all I asked is one and now i’m the nosey one?” “I’m just messing with you. But no i’m not like that… not anymore at least.” “Oh wow” He looked offended at my reply but can you blame me? he’s so popular now.

“What do you mean by oh wow? do I look like a manwhore to you?” I give him the look of “do you really want me to answer that?” “Okay don’t answer that” and we both started laughing. “Do you wanna do a small race to the stalls?” he looked at me as if i had grown two heads “ A race?!? are you trying to kill me? I thought we were getting along.” “You’re so dramatic it’s like 7 feet away” “Are you forgetting that you’re the real rider here and not me? I’m just an intern” “Okay prospect, no race this time. You’re such a party pooper.” “If you’re a good teacher and I get the hang of this by the end of these two weeks i’ll race you. Deal?” “Deal” We shook on it and continued our way to the stalls. Unlike getting on the horse, Jack had no issues getting off of it and he was quick to offer me his hand to help me get down.

Of course I didn’t need it but I decided to entertain him and accepted the help anyway. For whatever reason my horse, Talula felt like it was good moment to push me off and of course it had to be like one of those cliché rom coms. You know the ones where the girl falls into the guys chest and their faces are so close they’re almost breathing the same air and they look into each other’s eyes like its the prettiest thing they’ve ever seen?

Well that’s exactly what was happening between Jack and I. Until Talula decided to push me again and we both snapped out of it. His right arm was still around my waist and his other hand was still holding mine. I frantically pushed him away and stepped back brushing my clothes off from the invisible dust and possible horse fur.

“Sorry about that.” Jack apologized “No no it’s fine.” I started nervously laughing.He started walking backwards towards the exit “Tomorrow same time?” “Yeah, same time” “Alright, see you tomorrow dumpling.” He turned around now walking to the exit with his back towards me. “Stop calling me that.” “Not a chance dumpling.” He glanced at me over his shoulder with a smug grin on his face. I rolled my eyes but I couldn’t hold back my smile. After a full day of teaching Jack some of the basics and catching up a little bit I can say that he’s definitely the same goofy Jack that he was when I first met him in middle school. Maybe these next two weeks won’t be so bad after all.

[nukenai]

this all sucksssss so bad life is so shit sometimes.

forgot if i talked about it here but like. with everything going on in my life and being financially responsible for an Entire House now, I came to the awful shit terrible decision to rehome Rain. tldr I know she could do great in some kind of lesson program where she’ll be worked like every day, she’s so sweet and friendly, can be a little fussy but I really feel like with consistent work (which I can’t really provide, especially with 2 horses), she’ll do a lot better. There’s just so many issues with trying to sell her otherwise, she’s older and a lot of people don’t want that, etc etc, so I’m just rehoming her. There’s a great barn about an hour away with an awesome lesson program and an accredited trainer, she came to see her with one of her adult students yesterday and they want her. The student lady kept saying how beautiful she was, she seemed really taken with her. The really selfish part of me is like, “well I could get money for her”, but what is most important is that she go somewhere she’ll be happy and live up to her potential which I know she has.

And I sit here like “this problem isn’t real, what a first world problem to have to get rid of ONE of your TWO HORSES” which I know isn’t true and isn’t fair to me at all. I’ve convinced myself that it’s the right thing to do - because it really is - but that doesn’t make me feel any better. I know people sell horses all the time, even in my situation where I’ve had Rain for 7 years. And I did put in the contract I made up that I get right of first refusal, and also asked the lady taking her beforehand, so if she wants to get rid of her or if she winds up not being right for the program or whatever, she would come back to me. It’s not an emergency that I need to rehome her, but I don’t want it to ever get to the point where it is.

It just sucks and I can’t stop crying and these are the times I hate being alone forever in this house with no one to talk to about shit like this. Though I have talked to my friends at the farm and they think I’m doing the right thing, they know I’m not getting rid of her for any kind of selfish reason, or anything like that. And everyone agreed with me that Rain would be great in some kind of program with consistent work.

It’s just going to be so weird going to the barn and not seeing her in the field with Rogue. Obviously I’m keeping Rogue - she’s the kind of horse where like, she’s been through so much shit, I don’t want to put her through being rehomed again. Rain can go anywhere and be fine and would honestly benefit from a different owner who can give her more. Rogue has such a bond with me, and pretty much only me, and it just wouldn’t be right to send HER off somewhere.

This is the part that makes me feel slightly bad but. I started considering this when I rode Rogue a couple weeks ago. Like Rain, she had sat all winter. Rain tends to be a little high strung when riding, she goes a little fast and gets anxious out on trails. I think she would absolutely get so much better if she was ridden more.

But Rogue isn’t like that. Once she got over her Big Trauma of moving here and I bonded with her, she does not act nervous at all when being ridden. No hyperventilating like she used to do, or like Rain STILL does. She was still calm after months of not being ridden. I think she’s just a better match of a horse for me, despite being still a bit green. She tends to go very slowly and prefers to stop randomly, rather than speed up because she’s nervous, like Rain does. And that feels like something I can work with a bit more. I hope that made any sense at all.

Rain is 22, but I feel like she could still give so much more, especially to learning students in a program. Consistency is key with her. I stressed to the woman taking her that Rain has NEVER been dangerous - no bucking, no bolting, none of that. She can just be fussy, and it’s a fussiness I think can be worked out. But I don’t really have the time/energy/stamina to do that. Rogue doesn’t have that fussiness, just a bit of laziness to work out of her. And for me, that’s a much better angle.

I wish none of this was happening but man that’s life. It fucking sucks so much though. I was really angry about it a few days ago but now I just feel sad. I think the worst part is the shock because I reached out to this lady who was actively searching for a horse, she came out to see her 2 days later, and a couple hours after that told me she wanted her. I want to take that as a “meant to be” sort of thing, that this will be a great home for her. And I’m sure it will be.

I know I need to allow myself to be sad. It does suck. But I feel like maybe, with the pressure of having 2 horses alleviated, I’ll be able to put more time into Rogue without feeling bad about less time being spent on Rain. Rogue seems a lot more like the chilled out trail horse I’ve always dreamed of, since I ride super casually and prefer going out on trails to being in the arena. Rain is the opposite and will even physically fight me when I try to get her to walk out of the arena LOL. Rogue, meanwhile, will stare outside when we’re in the arena and constantly head toward the gate.

I’m also an external thinker type of person and I need to write everything out like this and talk about it to get it all off my chest. Hence this wall of text.

I just hate it. Booo. Fuck.

[blueikeproductions]

A battered and tired Dan and JD stand in front of Dan’s house after the boiler room incident, JD carrying a duffle bag with his stuff.

Dan: You ready?

JD: -looks nervous but takes a deep breath- Y-yeah.

Dan: -unlocks the door and they walk in- Ma? I’m home!

Dan’s mom upstairs, Liam can be heard making baby noises: Daniel? You’re home already? What about the pep rally?

Dan: Um. -rubs his bandaged arm and JD just looks mortified and embarrassed- Let’s just say it got too intense and leave it at that. Can you come down for a minute? Uh, Jason’s here too!

JD: Uh greetings and salutations, Mizz Danny-boy’s ma!

Dan’s mom still upstairs, but they hear excited thumping as she runs down stairs: THE infamous JASON? I finally get to meet this dark horse of a pal of your-

Dan’s mom, a portly almost middle aged gal with a tattooed arm, her messy grey-brown hair tied up in a haphazard bun, cocooned in a AC/DC bandana stops in front of the boys, stunned upon seeing JD- Oh my god, Jocelyn…?! -she grabs JD’s face and gives him a look over-

JD: -muffled- Ack, that was my mom’s name…!

Dan’s mom: -tearing up- You’re the spitting image… Oh my god…!

JD: -thinks back to his angry dad, still muffled- So I’ve heard…

Dan: Wait, you… you KNEW Jason’s mom?

Dan’s mom: Of course I did, Daniel! You never told me your bestie was MY old bestie’s boy! -releases JD- Oh Jocelyn and I were inseparable in middle school and high school, she was a delicate, sweet thing but … well she had her demons like we all do, but we completed each other like PB&J! And then she met that rotten banana Bud Dean Senior Year. Ugh, what an asshole.

Dan and JD look at each other awkwardly.

Dan’s mom: I dunno what she saw in that grease ball, but after graduation I never heard from her again. Bud inherited his father’s construction business and took Jocelyn away to Ridgemont, California. Anyhoo, look at me ramble, how IS your mom, Jason?

JD: She’s … uh dead. Died when I was eight.

Dan’s mom: …What…? Oh no. Honey I’m so sorry. -sighs- Dammit Jocelyn I knew this would happen, you poor angel. I guess that means you’ve been stuck with Dud Bud during your formative years…

JD: Not anymore. Big Bud landed with a big thud earlier today. …So I heard.

Dan’s mom can’t help but get a perverse glee out of this, but tries and fails to keep it contained: Hohoho, so THAT’S what all that hullabaloo on the news was about earlier. I was busy with Liam and wasn’t paying attention. -clears throat- Still, I’m -dark snickers- so sorry for your loss, Jason. -snrks, but clears throat again-

JD: Yeah no, no need to be …polite, I get it. Dad was a shit slurping bastard. Er pardon my French…! But uh that’s kinda what Danny-boy and me wanted to talk about… -gently sets his duffle bag down, Fangry’s beast mode head pokes out of the bag slightly. -

Dan: Yeah, JD and his Pop were squatting in the apartment complex down town, but since Pop … popped, the landlord kicked JD out and his dad’s stuff was repo’d.

JD: Yeah I’m pretty much wearing all that I own at the moment, and with all the rough patches and moving around growing up I don’t really have a place t’go… -shuffles his feet awkwardly, blushing, looks embarrassed but hopeful- I … I was hoping I could stay here for a while? At least until I get my shit together… Danny-boy offered and…

Dan’s mom gives the suddenly sheepish Dan a look: Oh he did, did he? -smiles and hugs them both tightly- Of course you can stay! It’ll be a little cramped, you’ll have to room with Daniel and Liam since that’s the only other available room. And before you ask, forget the couch: we’re in the middle of trying to get a new one, y’see, but Roland refuses to throw that dreadful moth ridden monstrosity out. -points to the living couch which cartoonishly coughs and collapses to one side, a spring pops out of it for effect-

JD: -looking at the couch- Yikes… -shakes head- I mean, NICE! T-thank you. -looks more relaxed and happy-

Dan’s mom: -smiles still hugging them both- It’ll be nice to catch up with Jocelyn too, indirectly… but I’m sure you have stories. -pauses, sniffs them both, releases the hug and recoils slightly- Yeesh, I dunno what went on at that pep rally, but you two reek of sweat and wood smoke.

Dan: Aw Ma we can’t be THAT ba- -sniffs his arm- Holy cats, is this what was meant by smelling gangsta?

Dan’s mom: -pushes them towards the stairs- You boys go upstairs and wash up, and neither of you come back down until you smell better! I’ll get supper in the meantime and tell Roland what’s happening. You boys in the mood for KFC?

Dan: Sure…? JD: It’s finger licking good…?

Dan’s mom: I think you’ll fit in just fine here, Jason. -gets her keys and heads out the door-

JD: Fit in, she says. Me? -smiles- Who’d a’thunk it.

Dan: Better late than never, right? Welcome home, bro. -one arm hugs him and they go upstairs-

[purplesurveys]

1598

What was the last book you read? Midnight Sun, haha. The writing is atrocious, but it’s a guilty pleasure. 

Have you ever had a friend named Mary? I used to be friends with a Maryrose but people liked calling her Mary.

What does the name "Ada" make you think of? A high school batchmate. Also Ada Wong from Resident Evil. Have you ever had a friend named Ada? ^ Yeah, I was civil with that batchmate and we continue to follow each other on social media.

Do you live in England? 🏴 Nope.

Have you ever been to England? 🏴 I have.

Are you English? Not in the slightest. Do you speak English? Yeah. Thanks colonization!

If you could build a robot to perform one chore for you, which chore would you have it perform? Cleaning up after the dogs. That would be such a big relief for my back, lmao.

...and what do you think you would name the robot? 🤖 Hal? Hahahaha just kidding. Maybe Will, from Good Will Hunting.

Did you get into trouble a lot when you were a kid? Not even close. I didn’t want to go beyond the rules for fear of pissing somebody off.

Have you ever been to London? ☕️🇬🇧💂‍♀️ I have not.

Did you know that England's flag and the United Kingdom's flag are different? 🏴󠁧󠁢󠁥󠁮󠁧󠁿 🇬🇧 Well, yes.

Do you know which four countries make up the United Kingdom? 🇬🇧 England, Wales(?????), Scotland, Ireland.

How many sisters do you have? One.

Do you have a wicked stepmother? Continued from yesterday morning. No, I don’t even have a stepmother. Would you rather be a scientific and mathematical genius or an artistic genius with a huge imagination? I’d take science and math. I love looking at art from afar and I don’t want to turn it into a job.

What is your favorite type of tea? ☕️ I don’t like tea.

Where was the last place you traveled? Not counting trips I take within the city/region, Zambales. Have you ever ridden in a horse-drawn carriage? Not a carriage, no. But I have been on a horse.

Have you ever met anyone with the last name Byron? Not at all. Idk where you can find anyone with that surname here.

When was the last time you were in a bookshop? Yesterday evening when Angela, Reena, and I went gift shopping. Angela needed a children’s book and crayons for her nephew; Reena needed notecards for her gifts.

Do you enjoy reading historical fiction? If I come across a piece I like, then I could enjoy it. I don’t seek it out though; I never do so for fiction.

What is your favorite work of historical fiction? Without Seeing the Dawn.

Does it rain a lot where you live? Between July to October, yes. Flooding is a common occurrence and a very big problem in certain areas; and with the government never doing anything about it I imagine it will continue to be an issue.

When was the last time you got caught in a thunderstorm while out walking? Fortunately not. 

Have you ever built a zipline? Nah.

When was the last time you rode on a zipline? I think as a kid when my parents used to take me to indoor playgrounds? My stomach doesn’t fare well with motion/suspension stuff so I’ve never taken any adult-level ziplines.

Did you ever sneak out of your house when you were younger? No, it’s useless to lie to my parents because they find out one way or another. It was always a lot easier to just let them know where I planned to be; it was for safety reasons, too. If I found myself injured in a car crash and was 4798234 km away from where I said I was supposed to be, what else was I gonna tell them? Thoughts like that kept me from lying.

...and if yes, where did you go? - ....and did you get in trouble? I never got in trouble for things like that.

Do you own a horse? 🐎 Nope.

What is your best friend's name? Angela, Andi, Reena. Is anyone in your family an author or poet? My great-grandfather’s cousin is an established author in the history scene. His works continue to be a part of syllabi in universities today.

Is anyone in your family a scientist or mathematician? I feel like this is giving away too much at this point, but the same ^ relative was accorded as a National Scientist of the Philippines. 

What was the name of your first crush? The first irl crush I had had been Andi. Not the same Andi who’s my best friend today, but it was a girl from grade school that I had become good friends with.

Have you ever dated a guy with a girl's name? I’ve never dated a guy.

Have you ever kissed someone in a graveyard? 🪦 Uh, I don’t think so.

What is the most scandalous thing you've ever done? Idk man. Even if I knew, idk if I’d feel like sharing right now.

What do you think of the name Fanny? I don’t like it. Do you believe in fairies? No.

Do you believe in vampires. No.

Would you rather be named Fanny or Faye? I hate both of them but I guess Faye.

Do you have a godmother? Well, yes, in the Christian sense. As far as I know having godparents is a requirement when getting baptized. Since I’m the eldest, my godparents are my mom’s and dad’s siblings; my sister’s godparents are my mom’s first cousins. I think my brother’s are my dad’s college friends.

Are you someone's godmother? To one of my cousins, yes. I imagine I’d be a godparent to more once my friends and cousins start having kids of their own, too.

How many doors are there in your home? 🚪 Too many.

What color is your closet door? Brown. Have you ever snuck out a window onto a rooftop? Never done that.

Have you ever snuck out of your house to go meet up with a guy somewhere? No.

....that your parents didn't know you were dating? No.

Would you rather travel to Paris or London? London.

Would you rather travel to France or Switzerland? 🇫🇷🇨🇭 Switzerland.

Are your parents divorced? They are not. If they wanted to, their best resort is an annulment because we don’t have divorce here.

What is one thing that you hope to accomplish before you die? Continued (again) from Christmas Eve, lol. Can I finally finish this survey now that most of the family reunions and socializing are over? Let’s find outtt. Travel to a different continent.

Have you ever built a robot? 🤖 I have not and haven’t been interested in making one myself.

Have you ever been to a magic show? 🪄🎩 Yes, magic shows are practically a staple in children’s parties here. I’ve seen a bunch and they’ve all always been very entertaining.

When was the last time you saw a frog? 🐸 Last Saturday when there were a couple of frogs hopping around our villa.

Have you ever been struck by lightning? ⚡️ Oh, wow. No. Wouldn’t I have been killed if this happened?

Have you ever received an electrical zap? ⚡️🔌 Yes. Looking back it was an incredibly dumb fault of mine, but I was 11 and didn’t know any better. Anyway, it’s also the reason why I’m still scared to plug anything and usually ask for help to do so to this day. Have you ever ran away from home? I considered it a handful of times in the past but it never materialized. Cutting off ties with everybody in your family was a big risk/jump to take.

When was the last time you wrote a poem? Years ago.

Who is your favorite poet? I don’t have one.

Do you enjoy writing poetry? I never liked it. Whenever we had to write poems in school, it was never more than homework to me; I was never good at them and I never liked the read-between-the-line-ness of poems either.

Would you rather write a novel or a book of poems? When it comes to me writing I’ve always enjoyed doing long-form pieces more, so a novel is more likely to happen.

Have you ever been to a poetry reading? Nope.

Do you believe that it's possible for someone to be resurrected from the dead? No. Well I believe those accounts of people who’ve flatlined but were able to be brought back to life, but that’s it. 

When was the last time you felt like you were being followed? It was in like September when I was picking up my mom from work and I decided to take a little walk in the area while waiting. I happened to be at a poorly-lit area when suddenly I get the feeling this dude behind had his sight on me, so I changed my walking from Pleasant Stroll to Survival Mode and just went to the nearby Starbucks to be safe. I’m sure the dude was just a normal pedestrian, but I needed to be safe because the moment something happened and I started screaming, I doubt people would stop and help.

Have you ever felt like you were being followed by someone? As far as I know it has only been that ^ one incident. 

Have you ever idolized someone (or just really looked up to someone) and then found out they were selfish? I feel this way about Kristen Stewart with regard to her cheating.

Do you have a cousin named Peter? I do not.

How far away do you live from Switzerland? A Google search tells me it is a quick 10,472 km away.

What are three things you think of when you hear the word "Switzerland"? Mountains, chocolate, neutrality.

Have you ever been to Switzerland? I have not.

Would you rather meet Peter Pan or the Tin Man from the Wizard of Oz? I haven’t watched either movie so idk which one I’d like more.

Are you afraid of thunderstorms? ⛈ I love them when I’m indoors. But the last thing I want is to be stuck outside when a thunderstorm starts.

Do you wish you had a fairy godmother? Well, no. Cosmo and Wanda had me imagining how cool it would be to get everything you want, but I knew they weren’t real anyway so it wasn’t like I was the kind of kid who was convinced fairy godparents could come to life if I believed in them hard enough.

Which name do you like better for a girl: Jane or Claire? I really love both. But I think I like Jane just a teeny teeny tiny bit more.

Do you have a common first name? I wouldn’t call it common. It’s familiar to people, but it’s never been a Top 10, 20, 50, 100 name.

Is your first name old-fashioned? It comes off as one, at least to me. Idk what others think though!

What color hair does your current crush (or boyfriend, girlfriend, husband, whatever) have? I don’t have one of those.

Have you ever been to Notre Dame cathedral in Paris? No.

Do you like kale? I’ve never had it.

What's the most embarrassing thing that's ever happened to you in a theater? It was more embarrassing for my siblings than it was for me, but the 3 of us once watched the last full screening of a Spongebob movie and I fell asleep halfway through. I woke up with the credits nearly ending, nobody but us left in the theater, and the crew coming in to start cleaning up trash.

In my defense(?), I have no idea why neither of them just shook me awake. They literally just stared at me until I woke up on my own??????? Like what would they have done if my brain decided to sleep through the night? LOL

Have you ever gone out with a guy and then later found out that he was married? No.

...and would you be upset if this happened? Duh. Upset, infuriated, and grossed out would be an accurate summary.

What was the name of the main character in the last book you read? Edward.

...and what was the name of the villain? James.

What do you think would be a good name for a villain? I feel like many of the exceptional TV/movie assholes actually have mundane, office-ass names. Hal from 2001: A Space Odyssey, Alex from A Clockwork Orange, Gus from Breaking Bad...

Have you ever had someone ask you if you had magic powers? No.

...and do you have magic powers? No. Wishing we could stop with the fantasy questions at this point, too.

Are you a fan of Frankenstein? No.

What are three things that the word "Frankenstein" makes you think of? The character, the character’s hair, and the wrestling move Frankensteiner.

Do you try to make the most of every day? Well, not literally every day on the calendar. Some days I just want to take it easy.

What was the last valuable life lesson you learned? Take chances, especially those where you’d have nothing to lose. What was your favorite teacher's name? Ettie. Have you ever had someone copy you or steal your ideas for something? Probably.

Have you ever dated someone behind your parents' back? For six years.

[dufreydiaries]

Lucline woke a good hour before Rasina was supposed to come for her. One did not travel into the desert unprepared if they wanted to ever return. She cast a simple alteration spell on her pack to allow it to hold more things. She put a weeks’ worth of dried food rations and the same rations of water. Then she layered in extra clothing as well. Only then did she pack her research supplies and close the pack. Then she grabbed her mage’s staff from its holder and headed out into the dark.

As she stepped out, her sandaled feet crunching in the sand. She brought up her hand and cast a floating light next to her shoulder as she waited. She was scantily clad in the outfit that Rasina had gifted her as the night had been just as hot as the day. She had heard the deserts elsewhere got freezing cold at night. This did not happen often in the Alik’r. The nights were usually just a little cooler than the daytime. The difference was, there was no intense sun to burn you. When the light came, she would see if the cloak would be needed. She hoped it would not, given she could already tell the sky was completely cloaked with clouds today.

A shadowy figure approached her from the darkness. Rasina appeared, dressed in an identical outfit with a pack on her back. Rasina had no weapon, but that wasn’t an issue. Rasina’s sword was always close to hand.

“Good morning, Rasina.” Lucline greeted with a smile. She tried to tell her racing heart to calm down, they had a job to do. It didn’t help things that Rasina was a very beautiful girl.

“Good morning, Lucline,” She greeted in return. She stopped and her head went down as if examining her. “I always find myself surprised at how well you wear our native garments. I sometimes wonder if you should have been born here.”

Lucline giggled. “Maybe. I’ve always hated the stifling fashions of High Rock. Give me something minimal and/or silk any day. As for corsets, they can go burn.”

Rasina frowned. “I would hate to see you in one of those. First, you’re far too skinny as it is. Second, it would be a shame to take your freedom from you. I bet you can barely move in one of those abominations.”

Lucline nodded firmly. “Oh yes, that’s very true. Well, shall we go?”

Rasina whistled and two camels came around the corner. Lucline sighed as she climbed in the saddles. She settled in, for once glad that her parents had forced so many riding lessons on her. At least she did not need to ride side-saddle. She hated riding side-saddle. She smiled as Rasina climbed up. The fighter gave her a look.

“What is it?” The blonde mage giggled. “I just remembered the first time we rode camels together. I never saw you more panicked.”

Rasina snorted. “Of course, I was! You were being dragged in the sand by one leg. I thought you were a goner.”

“Nah, I had ridden enough to know I needed to cast a Flesh spell and armor myself with magic the moment I started to fall. Thank you for going out of your way to teach me.”

Rasina turned her mount away, but Lucline could have sworn there was a blush on her face as she did.

“It’s no trouble. Would have been bad if you ever needed to go in the desert and didn’t know the difference between a horse and a camel. Shall we go?”

Lucline smiled and urged her mount forward. They rode off into the dark.

*Elder-Scrolls*

A/N: And they are off on their first adventure! I know these chapters are short, but I would like to do a chapter a day if I can for some time. We will see if I can keep up with it or decide to go longer. See you next chapter.

[maddiem4-writes]

Reposado - Chapter 19

“Absolutely not. No way.” Mara was gonna be a hard sell. “I am not riding in the Engasmotron.”

“C’mon,” I insisted, and limped a little closer. “It’s not like you’ve never ridden it before.”

She slapped me on the arm. “Gross. I’d feel less suggestive in the Oscar Meyer Weinermobile.”

I feigned surprise. “What’s so suggestive about the Engasmotron? It’s a perfectly mundane, perfectly 90’s sedan, with a totally normal metallic starlight purple paint job, and plenty of cargo space.”

“… which is full of dildos.”

“Oh obviously, chock full of dildos.”

Mara glared at me and crossed her arms. “Everyone in town knows what the purple sedan is selling, Meyers. I’ve barely settled in here and even I know it.” She hunched down and whispered in pleading despair, “She sells to my mom, Lisa. My mother.”

I grinned like the Grinch. “Well good for her! Satisfied customers are the arched backbone of the industry. But no, seriously? She sells to all our moms.” I looked around conspiratorially, then put my hand on my chest, and raised my eyebrows meaningfully. “All. Of our moms.”

Mara buried her face in her hands and groaned, like that was gonna stop the bad thoughts from getting in. Yeah, good luck, Mars. “Ugh, so gross. I didn’t need to know that.”

I laughed. “What, you don’t have one?”

She grimaced. “You do?”

Eyebrow. Wiggle. She groaned and buried her face in her hands all over again.

Citrine stared at us in wonder. “Disgusting, but fascinating. In any event, if we have a ride, we should take it. You seem to know what you’re doing, bluebelly. How do we make it happen?”

I looked around. “Caleb. Caleb drives for his mom on a regular basis. He’ll know where the car is, where the keys are, all of it. We find him, we’re good.” Our guy was tall, just like his sister Bree. Just a couple of tall-ass rich kids, and yet finding them in the outdoor chaos was like a Where’s Waldo that kept moving as you stared at it. “Easier said than done, apparently.”

Mara rolled her eyes. “You’re doing it all wrong. Come over here, up on the rock.” I did as she said, climbing awkwardly with my injured foot. “Okay, now be careful, Lees. But, when I count to three, I need you to climb on my back, and start screaming for Caleb. If we stand out as a mobile beacon, he’ll come to us.”

I held my arm nervously. “Mars, I… I’m heavier than you. I’m… stocky.” I didn’t normally have to think about it, I wasn’t fat fat, but I was built a bit chunkier, and it was hard to feel elegant. I didn’t dance much, I’ll tell you that. I felt so big and so small in that moment.

She stared me down, insisting. “Meyers, what do you think I do for a living? Trust me. I can take you. And if I can’t, I’ll tell you.” She backed up to the rock, and looked behind her. “Please?”

She had a point. Her arms were wiry, but I’d seen them toss haybales and restrain panicking horses. They had an understated power. I scanned around self-consciously one last time, and shook it off. “Okay. I trust you.” She braced her arms for me to step through, and I climbed on piggyback. “Let’s ride, I guess!”

“Mmmpph!” She grunted under me. Seemed like I still weighed more than she expected, but she had it handled. “Let’s… ride!”

That’s how we explored out into the parking lot, with a high vantage point to see and be seen. It was nice to be the carried one, I realized, as I belted out Caleb’s name. I actually saw Bree first, and pointed her out to Mara. We started going in her direction. I could feel that the piggyback wasn’t gonna last too much longer by the end, so any direction was a gamble, but staying in place was a guaranteed losing bet.

She started moving toward us too, and I hopped off when we got close. “Bree!” I said, as Mara took a second to pant. “Boy am I glad to see you. You seen your brother anywhere? I know you’re normally in the same classes.”

She looked over. “Oh you mean him?” She pointed and we looked, and there he was, munching on a corn dog. “Ask him where he got that corn dog. I want one.”

“Thanks, Bree! Hey, hey Caleb.” I walked up, limping a little but not bad. “Uh, so two questions. First of all, where did you get that corn dog?”

He shrugged blankly and took another bite. “I ‘unno. It’s pretty good though.” He chewed passively.

I stood there for a second, confused and slightly fake smile on my face. “Right. Cool. Good for you. Um, second question’s a bit more of a thing here…. can we borrow your mom’s car?”

His eyes widened. “My… mom’s car?” He looked around and lowered his voice in embarrassment. “The purple one? You sure?”

I nodded, and Mara piped in over my shoulder, “and your driving skills! You’re the only one of us licensed, Cee. But we gotta hit the road with some cargo.”

“What kinda cargo?” Bree asked from behind us. I jumped, and recovered myself. “He’s got the car, but the tank’s nearly empty, and I’m the one with a credit card. Whatever’s going on, we’re a package deal.”

Caleb rolled his eyes, and took another bite. “Ish chrew. Annoying, but chrew.” He swallowed. “And yeah, what kinda cargo you wanna haul in that thing?”

I sighed. “Alright, why not an extra person at this point. Only one we’re really missing is Steph. There’s a lot to catch you up on, but we have someone who needs to lay down and lay low for a bit. Someone you kinda know, but kinda don't. It’s complicated. Shit, can we tell them?” I looked down to Citrine, who’d caught up to us.

She nodded and meowed. I raised my eyebrows at the vocalization. She whispered lightly, “What? We’re in a public space, kitten. I’m trying to blend in.”

Bree and Caleb stared at Citrine in shock. Caleb took another bite of his corn dog and chewed it thoughtfully. “Huh,” he said. "Cool."

[exitrowiron]

Day 39: Bradford, PA to Corning, NY

102 miles, 4,499ft ascent, 6:05

The brisk fall weather continued with a 43 degree start that necessitated the addition of a jacket to yesterday’s cold weather attire. At mile 25 we left Pennsylvania and entered our 12th state, New York!

With so much time to think on the saddle each day, it’s just natural to compare one state to another. For example, Michigan simply doesn’t bother to pick up roadkill. The section of Ohio that we rode had accountants name the roads; we rode on Nine Mile Road, Eleven Mile Road and Nineteen Mile Road (I’m not making that up). In NY we rode through numerous Glens and Hollows. In contrast to the last 20 miles of Pennsylvania, the first 20 miles of NY were marked with ramshackle, poorly maintained homes hosting permanent yard sales and auto salvage operations in their front yard.

The NY roads however were among the best we’ve ridden, with new asphalt (not the dreaded chip seal) and generous shoulders. As the slovenly homes gave way to tidy farms, it became clear that the generous road shoulders were intended for a horse and buggy, not a biker. The shoulders were 10ft wide and worn in the middle from horse hooves. At one point I passed two young men walking behind a team of large draft horses moving from one farm to the next. I gave them a very wide berth, not wanting to spook the horses.

By lunchtime, the clouds were beginning to break and I shed all my cold weather gear, leaving only my bibs and short sleeve jersey. This was a great decision as the temperature continued to rise, providing a truly spectacular day of fall riding in rural NY. This is another beautiful part of the country which I’ve never seen before. There is a special joy that comes from the feeling of wonder and discovery as you ride along unfamiliar rural roads with the wind at your back and the sun over your shoulder.

I was the first to arrive at the hotel in downtown Corning (a lovely small town hosting the Wineglass marathon next week). As I gathered my bags I learned that the Corning Glass Museum is less than a mile away and was closing in 2.5 hours. I took a quick shower, downed my protein recovery drink and ran to the museum. Truth be told, I’m not much of a museum person, but I really enjoyed this one. There’s something about the physical challenge of creating art with glass that I find intriguing. Obviously my time was limited, but I highly recommend the museum (I was even able to see a live demonstration).

Tomorrow’s forecast is for cold rain most of the day; we’ve only had one other day like that on the trip and the riders aren’t looking forward to a repeat. Even with the forecasted rain however spirits are high as we know we only have 6 riding days left!

[sergeantxrogers]

Assured by Dreams - 4

“Your job is to protect me, isn’t it?”

“With my life.”

“Then love me, too.”

Sir James had been tasked with one assignment and one assignment only: give you protection, even if he has to die for it. When your kingdom falls under siege from the East, and you’re ripped away from the comfortability of banquets, feasts and glittering tiaras, it’s up to him to save your life, and up to you to trust him. Only, Sir James never had falling in love with his princess written in his plan for salvation.

Pairing: Knight!Bucky Barnes x Princess!Reader

Chapter word count: 4.8k

Chapter warnings: Angst, kidnapping, fluff if you squint, this one is a doozy guys i’m so sorry in advance

series masterlist / main masterlist

The rhythm of horse hooves thundering against solid ground used to be your favorite feeling. Your favorite sound, your favorite activity out of all the things your parents forced you to do growing up. You liked the superiority of being on high ground, looking down and knowing you were safe on an animal trained to take care of you. 

You did not feel safe on this horse now. 

Once your tears finally dried, and you and James reached the edge of the forest, preparing to run into it, all that was heard was the horse’s gallop and heavy breaths, and the slight wind whistling in your ears. The trees around you blurred into one big, green and black picture, growing darker and darker the deeper you went into the woods. You had no idea how James was following the dirt path, wide enough only for one person - or one horse - to walk along. It was ridden with fallen twigs and leaves, crunching underneath the heavy hooves of your stallion, but you supposed James did enough rounds around the palace and its surroundings to be able to know where to go. 

For the millionth time that day, you thanked your lucky stars he was with you. 

Usually, you liked to tell yourself, and everyone else, that you wanted to be independent. Strong, fearless, and not having to lean on anybody for support. This time, however, you weren’t too proud to admit that you were grateful for James, and glad you could put all your trust and willingness onto him. Sometimes, carrying all of that luggage was burdening, and all you needed was someone to share the load with you. 

You didn’t notice when your horse slowed to a walk once you were deep in enough, nor did you notice how the sun was a bit lower in the sky through the branches overhead. You definitely hadn’t noticed how long you had been walking, James silent behind you but arms still loose around your waist. You stared at one spot in front of you, eyes going in and out of focus and your peripheral vision going dark, and it was only when a breeze blew over your bare arms that you snapped out of your stupor. 

You lifted your head, a slight shiver to your body as you looked around. It was all unfamiliar, dark and taunting. James shifted behind you, letting go of his loose hold on the reigns, and soon after, you felt a heavy, comforting material envelope your shoulders. You sighed reflexively, bringing your hands up to wrap it around yourself tighter, and you looked to your side, seeing the familiar red of James’ cape clad on your shoulder.

“Thank you,” you muttered, voice hoarse from disuse and crying. 

James only hummed into your ear, his soft breaths tickling the back of your neck. 

“I mean it,” you continued, still staring straight ahead. “Not just the cape - for everything.”

“You don’t have to thank me,” he said quietly, chest reverberating against your back as he did.

You fell silent. Then you shrugged. “Still.”

He didn’t reply. 

Another few moments of treading through the trees passed in silence, with you wondering how James knew where he was even going. So you decided to ask.

“Do you even know where you’re going?”

“I do, your Highness.”

“How?”

He let out a puff of air through his nose in amusement, at which you craned your neck back to look at him.

“What?” you asked him, and he dropped his eyes to yours as he smiled.

“I’ve been in these woods more times than you know, princess.”

The sentence was quiet and vague, and after the words fell from his tongue and into the empty forest, your gaze fell to his lips, then back to his eyes. You hadn’t even realized the close proximity of your position, and heat surged up your neck and ears when he smirked down at you. Opening your mouth to snap back a smart remark, you were abruptly interrupted when your horse took a particularly harsh step forward, tripping over a large branch, and you lurched forward. 

James’ arm snapped out to grab your waist before your gasp even left your throat, and you felt your heart pound wildly in your chest as you held onto his arm with your hands, nails digging into the leather material. 

“Thanks,” you breathed, thankful for him saving your life, again, and he just nodded.

You decided it was best for your balance and your well-being to face forward, so you turned again, letting go of his arm with your eyes trained on the top of the horse’s head. 

The forest seemed never-ending, stretching out for miles and miles in front of you, and you sighed.

“Are you sure you know where you’re going?”

James let out a groan. 

“Okay, okay, sorry, fine-”

You went quiet again, but you found that every time you stopped talking, your brain ran its focus back to the scene in the town, your mother bleeding out in your father’s arms. And instead of reliving that memory over and over again, you decided it was less painful to annoy James and suffer through his groaning and sarcastic remarks.

“James?”

He sighed softly behind you. 

“Y/N?” he replied in the same tone, and you rolled your eyes.

“Don’t roll your eyes at me.”

“Wh- how did you- you can’t even see me-”

“I know you, better than you think. I don’t have to see you.”

You huffed slightly, tugging his cape around you, fisting it tightly. Your legs swung slightly as they flanked the horse, back and forth, back and forth, occasionally knocking against his boots as you strolled.

“Your name is James Barnes?” you asked curiously.

“Yes... why?”

You could sense the confusion in his tone, and you shrugged.

“No reason.”

“No, no- I know there’s a reason, little miss.”

“Nope.”

“Spit it out,” he said, punctuating his sentence with a finger jabbed into your ribs. You squirmed away, and tsked in annoyance. 

“Fine. While I was... snooping through father’s study, that day I got the map, I found some... documents.”

James was quiet, so you turned around to meet his eyes, only to find that they were narrowed as he stared at you.

“What kinds of documents?” he asked suspiciously.

You shrugged. “Some royal duty lists, or something. I couldn’t be bothered to read the details because something else caught my eye.”

James’ eyes caught the smirk forming on your lips, and realization clouded his face. “My name?”

You nodded.

“My full name?”

“Well, not exactly. Just James B. Barnes, but I spent the entire day wondering what the B stands for.”

“I see,” he hummed. “And did you finally figure it out?”

You shook your head, and he chuckled. You stared at him expectantly, eyes wide and brows high, and he shook his head in question.

“What?”

You blinked. “Aren’t you going to tell me what it is?”

“Uh, no?” he replied mockingly.

You pouted, turning around again. “No fair. Why not?”

“Because it’s fun watching you get angry.”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes so far back you almost saw your brain. “I am not angry.”

“No?”

“No. I’m just annoyed. And I really want to know.”

James sighed, tugging the reigns slightly to the left as he did. 

“Buchanan.”

You paused. “What?”

“Buchanan,” he repeated, and you cocked your head.

“Buchanan,” you mumbled to yourself, studying the leaves beneath you. “I like it.”

“You... you do?”

You hummed with a nod. 

“Well, I don’t,” he deadpanned, and you frowned.

“Why not?”

“I don’t know... reminds me too much of my father, I can’t stand to hear it.”

Deciding not to reply, you reached out a hand to grab his, squeezing his knuckles as a sign of condolence. 

“Steve calls me Bucky, though.”

It was true. If you thought about it hard enough, you realized you had never, not once, heard the general call James by his name. Nor had you ever heard James call Steven by his entire name. One of the perks of working with your best friend, you supposed.

“So,” you began, straightening your back a bit, opting to lean against his chest. “How come nobody else ever calls you Bucky. I haven’t heard it before, at least.”

You felt him shrug against your body. “Steve was the one who came up with it, so I guess... it only feels wrong when someone else says it.”

“Oh. Even when I say it?”

“Well, I wouldn’t know. You haven’t said it yet.”

“Oh,” you repeated. “Can I call you Bucky?”

James didn’t answer, only clicked his tongue to signal the horse to slow to a stop, and you hadn’t realized you had reached the other edge of the forest, cleared away to house a small village you had never seen before.

Your horse came to a halt after James led it to a tavern in the small town. Confused, you looked around, taking in the brick housing and people passing along the long dirt road, giving you curious looks. James, swinging a leg over, got down from the horse with a huff, and before you could ask him where you were, his hands found your hips, picking you up and heaving you off the horse with ease. After the initial shock of being carried through the air had worn off, you looked up at him in bewilderment.

“Yes,” he said with a smug smile. “You can call me Bucky.”

The tavern had an inn on its second floor. The owner wasn’t too happy to let two strangers stay in his premises, until he took a better look at your face and immediately bowed. You smiled comfortingly, hoping to put him at ease, once you saw the horrified shock on his face at the realization that he had just told his princess and her knight to beat it in a rather rude way.

The floor creaked underneath your feet as the two of you followed the short, bald man up the stairs, down the small hallway, all the way to the end. The air smelled musty and stale, wood that had been wet and dry, wet and dry, wet and dry too many times, making it hard to take in a deep breath in the small space. 

“Here, I just so happen to have two free rooms,” the man said, face still blushing from his earlier behavior. He nodded towards one of the doors.

“One of you can stay here, and the other in the room just across.”

“How long can we stay?” you asked timidly, worried about the answer, but that worry disappeared when the owner shook his head quickly, waving his hands in front of him.

“As long as you need, your Highness, it’s really no problem,” he said, a bit breathless. 

Bucky gave him a half smile and nodded, taking the rusty keys from the owner’s hand.

“Thank you,” you called over your shoulder once Bucky entered one of the rooms, and the owner was already halfway down the stairs. The stout man didn’t answer, only rushed down the steps at breakneck speed. Sighing, and slightly shaking your head, you stepped into the room after Bucky, closing the door behind you.

It was small, and smelled of must, just like the rest of the tavern. It consisted of one bed, a rickety bedside table with an oil lamp on it being the only light in the room, and a set of drawers, presumably for any things you should have.

Bucky seemed to have noticed the grimace forming on your face, and nudged your arm.

“Hey,” he said softly, calling for your attention, and you turned your exasperated eyes to him.

“It’s only for a couple nights until we getting moving again,” he reassured you, and you took in a deep breath as you nodded.

“I know... I know, it’s just... all settling in, you know?”

Bucky nodded, understanding, then gave you a small smile. His eyes raked over you, starting from your feet and ending at your face.

“What?” you asked, tugging his cape that was still around you tighter. 

“You are in desperate need of a change of clothes.”

You mimicked sniffing the air, then pulled a dramatic face. “You’re not doing any better yourself.”

“Low blow,” he muttered through a chuckle. Stepping back to the door, you followed him with your eyes.

“Where are you going?”

He must have sensed the nerves in your tone, because he stepped back up to you and gripped your arms with his hands, holding you steady as he stared into your eyes.

“I’ll be right back. I need to find you something more comfortable to wear.”

Bucky’s words settled the anxiety in your stomach enough for you to nod and sit down on the creaky old bed as you waited. You didn’t wait for long though, as Bucky came back no later than 5 minutes after, carrying a bundle of clothes in his arms. 

After stepping out into his own room, allowing you to change into pants and a comfortable cotton tunic, Bucky came back in wearing his own male variation of your outfit.

A loud, heavy yawn escaped your lungs, and you turned towards the window, surprised to see stars in the sky. 

“Is it that late already?”

Bucky hummed in confirmation. 

“We should probably get some rest.”

“You’re right.”

Without another word, Bucky left, letting your door close on his way out. You sat in shock for a moment, staring at the door, wondering why he hadn’t said goodnight, or something else of the sort. Shaking off the hurt feeling in your chest, you frowned, pulling back the covers of your bed and sliding under them. Taking in a sigh, you hadn’t even let it out before your door was busting open again, Bucky stumbling through with a pillow and a quilt.

Lifting yourself onto a shoulder, you widened your eyes.

“What are you doing?” you asked him.

He paused, and gave you a bewildered look, like he couldn’t believe you were asking him that.

“What does it look like I’m doing?”

You blinked, still trying to understand what was happening as he laid the quilt out on the hardwood floor beside your bed. “Uh... making yourself at home?”

“Exactly,” he said with a grin, punctuating his sentence by flinging his pillow onto the floor.

“What the...,” you muttered to yourself, following his movements with your eyes as he settled down, laying on the floor beside you.

“No but seriously, Bucky, what are you doing?”

With his arms up, resting behind his head, he looked up at you as you peered over the edge of the bed at him. 

“You really think I’m letting you sleep alone in an unprotected room?”

Realization set it, and your mouth dropped into an O shape as you slowly nodded. He nodded mockingly as well. “Get it now, princess?”

“Oh, shut up.”

Bucky gave you a shit-eating grin, giggling to himself as you rolled your eyes.

The oil lamp beside your head flickered as you huffed, staring down at him. 

“What is it?” he asked, lifting himself up on an elbow, bringing his face closer to yours.

“You’re annoying.”

Bucky smiled. “I know. But so are you.”

You hummed, narrowing your eyes at him. You were having a staring contest with him without even being aware of it, until he finally blinked and you mirrored his smile.

The lamp flickered again, the shadows on the wall behind Bucky altering their shape with the movement. His eyes were a darker blue in this light, almost as threatening as the moonlit sky outside your window, and you were having a hard time tearing your gaze away from them. 

You were close. So very close to him, Bucky could feel your breaths mingling in the cool air of the small room. It took everything in him not to let his eyes drop to your lips, bitten with worry and smiling at him like you finally had room to relax. His jaw clenched in frustration, and self restraint, when he reminded himself that you were engaged. You were to be married to another man - to a prince, nonetheless - as soon as the opportunity presented itself. Bucky was your knight, just someone with a job, whose description included spending time with you. It was all a matter of circumstance, and sometimes, when you smiled too wide at him, or laughed too loud, or squeezed his hand too tight, Bucky found himself having to remind his heart and brain that you were his responsibility. You only saw him as your babysitter, as you had put it so lightly before, so why should he see you as anything other than a mission?

Pulled out of your silent staring by the sound of a woman yelling faintly out in the street, you swallowed heavily and pulled your face back, laying your head against your pillow. 

Repressing another tired yawn, you smiled at Bucky sleepily, eyes drooping shut. Bucky’s chest rumbled with a low chuckle of amusement as he lowered himself onto his own pillow. 

“G’night, Bucky,” you mumbled, eyes already closed, body already shutting down from the events of the day.

You almost - almost - missed his soft reply as the world went dark.

Your eyes snapped open as you were jostled awake, pulled into a sitting position in bed. Squinting against the light bleeding in through the window, pooling directly onto where you were sitting, you tried your best to focus on Bucky.

“Up, up, up,” he repeated, anxiety in his voice. “Now.”

“Wh-”

“I said now. Just do what I say.”

Pulling in a deep breath and swinging your legs over the bed, you rubbed your tired eyes.

“Bucky, I’m up...”

Your words were confused and mumbled together as you tried following him as he ran around the room, shoving clothing garments and other items you couldn’t see into a large ransack.

“What’s going on?”

He didn’t answer, only hurried to the window, shoving his head through to take a look outside, before turning back to you.

“I went downstairs to get us some breakfast,” he said hurriedly, and that only confused you even more. Before you could ask what that had to do with anything, he continued.

“The owner - nice man, name is Matthias - gave me this.”

As he finished his sentence, he fished out a paper from the ransack and shoved it into your hands. You focused on it, realizing it was a picture of you. And you were wanted alive, with a large bounty on your head. The big bold letters reading REWARD above your picture pulled you out of your slumber-induced confusion immediately, and you shot to your feet.

The paper trembled in your hand as you looked up at Bucky. He gave you a consoling look. He understood what this meant. He understood how pressuring, and how much more dangerous this just got.

Someone was out there looking for your head on a silver platter, paying good money to get it. And it chilled you to the bone.

“We have to go before the news spreads throughout the town,” Bucky said as he flung the ransack over his shoulder. “It’ll be harder to get out then.”

Scrambling to fold up the paper, you handed it back to him with a shaky deep breath. 

“Am I going to be okay?” you asked him in a quiet voice.

Bucky paused, taking a moment to look at you.

“I promise you will.”

The next few minutes were a blur, filled with creaking wood under your hurried footsteps, a smile to Matthias, getting pulled up onto your horse, who had stayed feeding on hay by the tavern overnight, and the soft crack of the reigns as Bucky sent the horse into a cantor.

Dust was kicked up behind you as you bolted from the small town, and you swore you heard a little boy shouting behind you as you rode away: Look, momma, there she is!

It was a familiar scene, your legs squeezing against the horse in fear of falling off, Bucky’s body pressed against yours behind you, running straight into the woods for solace.

Step after step, hooves beating against dirt and leaves, you ran deeper and deeper into the forest you had came from, and again you wondered if and how Bucky knew just where to run to avoid all dangers.

“I think we’re far away enough now,” he said into your ear, voice rough and stressed. You nodded in reply, relaxing your body a bit as the horse slowed to a lazy walk.

“Where are we going now?”

“Next town over. Hopefully we can get in a good night’s sleep before people find out where we are.”

You bit your bottom lip in worry, lifting your head to focus on the branches above you instead of the dirty ground. You felt Bucky’s chest rise and fall against your back as he breathed, allowing the solid comfort of him right behind you to soothe your nerves.

“I think he’s thirsty,” you whispered after a while of walking in silence. You reached down a hand to stroke the horse’s neck, coat shining and soft beneath your touch. He huffed through his nose, and you gave a little, absentminded smile at that.

Bucky hummed in contemplation, then pulled the animal to a stop. 

Tugging himself off, and planting both feet firmly on the ground beneath him, his blue eyes looked up at you.

“I hear a river nearby, but I’m going to have to check it out first. You want to come with me?”

You were about to nod, but realized quickly that you felt fine sitting on the horse just as you already were. You shook your head, giving Bucky a smile.

“I’m good here. I can ran if anything bad happens,” you told him, patting the horse a couple of times for emphasis.

“Alright, then,” Bucky agreed through a sigh, not happy with your answer, but also not wanting to push.

“Stay put here, and if anything - I mean anything - happens, or you think something will happen, you run.”

You nodded, and his jaw clenched. “Your life depends on it, Y/N.”

You stayed quiet, watching him walk off further to your right, stepping through fallen branches and crunching leaves beneath his boots. One hand was on his sword, and you realized you hadn’t even noticed him put it on before you left the inn. Knighthood, you supposed.

Once the crunching of leaves grew faint, and then completely silent, all that was left was the chirping of birds in the newly blooming trees and the soft pants of your horse beneath you. You hummed quietly, stroking a hand down his mane.

“You thirsty, buddy? Yeah?,” you cooed, bending forward slightly. “Bucky’s gone to find us some water, it’ll all be okay.”

You reassured the animal, but at the same time, you were attempting to reassure your self, looking around nervously as anxiety filled your gut. You stared at the space where Bucky had disappeared, wishing he would just show up already with that stupid smile on his stupid, handsome face. 

A snap to your left had you whipping your head around, the horse shifting in place timidly. “Bucky?”

No reply. 

“Bucky?” you tried again, a bit louder, and you were met with silence again.

You knew Bucky could take care of himself. Still, a bad feeling flooded you, making you bite the inside of your cheek as you contemplated what you were about to do next.

This is stupid, you thought to yourself as you swung a leg off the horse. 

This is so idiotic, your brain told you as you landed on your feet, patting the horse’s flank.

You shouldn’t be doing this. But Bucky could be in trouble, or hurt, your heart reasoned. Why else wouldn’t he reply?

Muted feet crushed the dead leaves beneath you as you took a few steps towards where you heard the sound.

“Bucky?” you called out again, clenching your hands together nervously in front of your chest. Trying to see better through the trees and shrubbery, you took another few steps forwards, when you froze.

“Princess.”

The voice was not Bucky’s. It wasn’t anybody you recognized at all, in fact. Slowly, you turned around on your heels, fear written on every feature of your face once you made eye contact with the man.

Slicked back hair, fur draped around his shoulders, and a smug smile playing on his lips.

You swallowed heavily, your heart pounding wildly in your chest, and you cursed yourself for getting off the damn horse. Without thinking, you took a step forward to run after tearing your eyes from the evil in the man’s smile, but a harsh grab of your arm and a tug back had you reeling, pulled back into a hard chest with a thud, a beefy forearm locking around your neck.

Tears of panic formed in your eyes and you shook your head, beginning to plead for mercy, looking around for Bucky to magically come save the day. You fought and struggled, but it was no use. The man holding you was stronger than you, much stronger, and his steel grip was unrelenting as you tried tugging yourself free.

“Bucky-”

You couldn’t speak, couldn’t form the words you wanted to as the man with the evil grin took agonizingly slow steps towards you. He seemed to enjoy your struggle, eyes lighting up with something maliciously sick as he sized you up, eyes raking over your body from head to toe. Your insides crawled, shrining into themselves under his uncomfortable stare, and you felt the first few tears slip.

Where was Bucky?

“Please- let me go, please, I’ll-”

“You’ll what?” the man drawled, tongue sharp and words biting.

“I’ll do anything, please just... please,” you begged, knees going weak underneath you. You were sure that if it weren’t for the arm around your neck and the other around your waist, you would have fallen to the ground.

The man in front of you cocked his head in amusement, studying you. Pretending like he was considering actually letting you go. Even you knew, deep down, that hope was futile.

“Anything?” he said quietly. Menacingly. The smile curling on his lips made your stomach turn as you realized what you had just offered him.

Shaking your head as quickly as you could against the arm choking you, you cried harder. “That’s not- please, that’s not what I meant.”

“Aw, princess,” he purred mockingly. “It’s sweet that you think you have a choice.”

He reached out with a gloved hand to caress your cheek as he spoke, fingers trailing down your jaw, falling to your chest, then leaving your body altogether. Your breath grew choppy when he touched you, craning your head away from his touch as much as you could, but the man behind you growled into your ear and shoved you with his shoulder.

A whimper left your throat, and you closed your eyes. This was the moment you disappeared, the dear Princess of Phentis gone missing a day after the siege of her kingdom, never to be seen again. 

The man holding you pushed you forward with an angry huff, and you tripped over your own feet as he guided you towards a horse - a white one that you had failed to notice until just now. His hands went slack around your body, and instead, he just grabbed your forearm and turned you around to face him. You gulped when you made eye contact with him, gaze following the heavy scar running across the side of his face, his brown eyes staring back at you blankly. 

“Brock,” the man said behind you. “Tie her.”

It was then that you saw the rope hanging from the man’s - Brock’s - other hand, and you let out another terrified whimper when he put your hands together roughly. He tied the rope tight enough that you were sure you would get rope burn from even the most miniscule movements.

His hands, calloused and cold, gripped your waist as you were manhandled onto their horse, thrown over it like a sack of flour. You laid on the beautiful white mare, head resting against her neck and your legs hanging on either side. Your hands were burning underneath your stomach from your weight being pushed onto them, the rope digging into your wrists, but you couldn’t bring yourself to sit up straight.

Your tears were blurring your vision as your head jostled with the horse’s movements, flanked on either side by the two men. Tears rolled down onto the mare’s coat as you cried. Sniffling as you took in a breath, you threw a glance to your own horse, standing where you had left him. Curse him for being so well trained that not even in a time of crisis and need would he move from his spot without being told to. A shaky sigh left you as your eyes drifted upward, towards the trees.

You hoped Bucky found water for the horse.

TAGLIST:

@dreamsley​ @a-ngeli-que​ @555shots​ @agirlinherhead​ @s-katergorl​ @ace-27749​ @leyannrae​ @tailsoflightning​ @acidwidow​ @angelofthorr​ @gallysonegoodlung​ @creatingjana​ @gitasor​ @artofluxuryy @inlovewfictionalmen826​ @pin-ci​ @writing-for-marvel​ @buckybarnesrealwife​ @americasass0​ @ginger-swag-rapunzel​ @eclecticpatrolroadlawyer​ 

[hlizr50]

Aggressive Affirmation

My first Elorcan fic, y'all. And it's smut.

It wasn't supposed to be smutty, but things escalated.

I'm not sorry.

Lorcan is sick and tired of Elide not acknowledging the incredible things that she has done. She doesn't give herself enough credit, doesn't see what she has to offer the home she hopes to rebuild. Lorcan encourages her to admit that she is intelligent, brave, and strong.

Read on AO3

Lorcan hadn’t even attempted to hide his wide grin when Elide had agreed to ride with him. It still surprised him that he could feel so carefree with her, so comfortable with letting his emotions dance across his features. But it was only for her. She had torn down every wall, crashed through every locked door, even faced death to earn his vulnerability. And he would pay it back in spades.

The midnight-haired beauty had rolled her eyes, still seemingly unaware of how her proximity to him could spark such an exuberant reaction. Lorcan found it difficult to understand how she didn’t presume she was the most incredible thing to have happened in the many years of his life, a strong woman in possession of near-bottomless bravery, fierce intelligence, and unbreakable dedication to the people and land she loved.

The journey would not be the longest they had together, though it would most certainly be the safest. Lorcan allowed himself to relax, as much as he could, and enjoy the feeling of the woman wrapped in his arms.

His wife.

The last time they had ridden like this he had been at death’s door, Elide urging the mount onward toward the keep at Anielle. What a relief it was to be with her now – to wrap his arms around her. As if to remind himself of what she felt like, his hand widened across her stomach, fingers stretching to feel as much of her as he could. Lorcan was pleased to find that her ribs were no longer so present below the tunic she wore, their time in Orynth slowly erasing the effects of months – perhaps years – of scarce food and near constant fear.

Soft strands, black as his own, brushed over his hands as he held Elide tighter against him. She turned her head, tilting her chin up to cast him a sidelong glance.

“What are you doing?” Her question was reflected in those fathomless eyes that he swore he could drown in. Lorcan grinned, dipping his chin to brush his lips over her forehead.

“Just thinking, wife,” he answered. “Of the last time we were on a horse like this, after you rode out into hell even when the mightiest of soldiers were retreating into that keep.” Elide’s lashes lowered as she looked away, as she often did when confronted with her own strength. “And how you thought up the plan that would defeat Erawan. And how you ran him through to keep him immobile so Yrene could finish him off.”

Silence was his only answer.

Lorcan sighed but let the quiet persist. His thumb traced back and forth over her abdomen, a motion that was meant to be soothing to her, but seemed to bring him comfort, as well. A spring breeze whispered past them, carrying the chirping of birds and the rustle of leaves on the trees lining the road. And echoing louder than any of the sounds of their journey was his wife’s silence.

“Elide.”

She didn’t answer, but she turned her head again and traced her fingers over his forearm.

“What’s wrong?” he prodded.

“Nothing,” she murmured, even as he felt her tense against his chest.

“You lie,” Lorcan crooned. “I know you better than I used to, Elide. You may be the cunning liar that thawed my cold heart, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to let it go. Tell me what’s bothering you.” His wife heaved a sigh, sagging into him.

“I am… anxious. About returning to Perranth,” she mumbled, turning her face forward again. His brows furrowed, lips pursing in confusion. Returning home, finding her queen, and rebuilding the city had been her aim as long as he’d known her – likely far longer.

“Tell me why.”

And just like that her back was straight again, shoulders tense, the small space between their bodies like a chasm. Lorcan’s eyes narrowed.

“Elide.”

Still she didn’t answer.

And judging from her reaction to his praise moments before, knowing her, Lorcan had a sneaking suspicion that he knew why she was hesitant. It grated against him, how little she thought of herself – how she refused to acknowledge her many feats of bravery and strength.

A snarl rumbled through his chest as he swung down from the saddle. He grabbed Elide before she had the chance to give a startled yelp and tossed her, gently, over his shoulder.

“Lorcan! What in the gods names are you doing?!” she shrieked. Ignoring her protest, he turned to their travel companions and dipped his chin.

“We’ll catch up,” he grumbled with a scowl before stalking off toward the tree line. This nonsense needed to end, sooner rather than later.

“Lorcan Lochan, you put me down this instant!”

His lips ticked up at his new surname, and he was glad she couldn’t see his amusement. He found a small clearing, a boulder jutting out of the grass. Schooling his features, he carried the still-grumbling woman to the rock, pulling her back over his shoulder and plopping her gently atop it.

“Why?” he demanded, eyes boring into her midnight pools that darkened with confusion. Lorcan released a frustrated sigh. “Why don’t you see your own worth, Elide?” He studied her with a frown as her eyes widened and her lips parted in a gasp.

“Lorcan?” she breathed. He ran a hand through hair that had become unruly in his less-than-graceful prowl into the woods. Then, taking a deep breath, he cupped her cheeks, allowing callused thumbs to graze over her high cheekbones.

“Do you think you’re strong, Elide?” Her eyes narrowed as she stared back at him, uncertainty painted across her pale features. Her answer, however, came quickly and assuredly – proof to the male that her belief was deep and unyielding.

“No.”

Lorcan flinched.

He lowered his gaze, doing all in his power to keep his breathing even. It was all he could do not to pace across the clearing in anger and frustration. “Elide-“

“I’m a cripple, Lorcan.” Her voice trembled slightly, and his eyes shot back to hers. They were hard. Uncompromising. As if her perceived weakness was just an unfortunate truth that she had come to terms with. Gods, it enraged him so – that she had practically been raised to believe that she had such little value. “I can barely walk, much less fight. I was a prisoner in my own home. For years. And after that I was little more than a slave. For ten years I was only allowed to live because someone else willed it. And in those ten years I did nothing for Perranth, for Terrasen. And what have I to offer now?” Lorcan cursed the shimmer of silver in her lashes as she pulled his hands away from her face and lowered her chin.

“I can’t even read, Lorcan,” she whispered wetly, her delicate hands clutching his. With a growl he pulled his hands away, fisting them in his hair as he, indeed, began stalking back and forth across the clearing. His ire was a living thing, writhing under his skin. What he would give to have her uncle in front of him now, so Lorcan could tear him apart like he deserved.

“Are you angry with me?”

The roaring in his head ceased in an instant, the timid question ringing clear as a bell through the heat boiling in his blood. He practically ran back to her, grabbing her face again.

“I’m not angry with you, love. Never. But it is absolutely infuriating that you believe it. That you have been made to believe it” Lorcan leaned pressed his forehead against hers. “You, Elide Lochan, are one of the strongest people I’ve ever known. I have fought beside fae and humans, men and women, the legendary and the ordinary. You are brave and strong and so incredibly clever.”

The lithe woman in his grasp opened her mouth to argue, but he pushed her chin back up.

“It…” He swallowed, realizing the vulnerability he was about to show. “It hurts me, Elide. When you just dismiss all the amazing things you’ve done. When you speak as if you have nothing to offer your queen, your home. When I found you, you were walking to Terrasen. And I have no doubt you would have made it. You picked up an axe against the Ilken. You rode out into the hell of Anielle in the face of certain death. You concocted the plan that defeated Erawan. Someone who is weak would not have done any of those things.”

Elide’s eyes bore into his, wide and shimmering. He leaned away, trailing his hands down her arms until he could link their fingers. Lorcan didn’t dare break that gaze, didn’t want to.

“Please. Please, try to acknowledge that. For me.”

“Well that’s not fair,” she laughed, tilting her head back. “Not when you put it that way.”

“I never said I would fight fair, wife,” Lorcan chuckled, then leaned in to capture her lips in a kiss, moaning when she immediately opened up to him. He explored her with his tongue – he would never get tired of her mouth on his.

Elide pulled back, breathing ragged. “We should probably get back,” she sighed. “They probably think we’re doing any number of questionable things.”

His large hands found her hips and tugged her to him, earning a startled giggle. “Well I would hate for them to be wrong.” He kissed her again, sliding his fingers below the band of her breeches. She gasped against his lips, and he snickered in response.

“Lorcan,” she hissed as his lips moved to her jaw, planting kisses up the sharp line. A murmured ‘mmmm’ was his only response as his fingers deftly unknotted the ties to her pants. “Lorcan, people will talk!”

“Let them talk.” His voice was like silk against the shell of her ear. “There is nothing wrong with a male wanting to pleasure his wife.” Elide’s hands fisted his hair, and he slid a hand between her legs to dip a finger into her. He felt her soft cry vibrate against his lips at her throat as his finger slid further, finding heat and wetness. “It would seem that your protests aren’t entirely heartfelt, Elide,” he purred against her neck, inserting a second finger.

“Oh Gods!” she panted. With a growl, he lifted his head and crushed his mouth over hers – a possessive, demanding kiss. He pistoned his fingers inside her, bringing the heels of his palm to rub against that sensitive bud. She mewled against his lips, and he pumped his fingers deeper as he swallowed every gasp and moan that lifted from her throat. Lorcan pulled back, watching Elide’s delicate flushed features lift and scrunch, reacting to the pleasure he was giving her. He wrapped his arm around her, supporting the small of her back with a hand that nearly spread the entire width of her body. When he brushed his callused thumb over that bundle of nerves, he felt her body tremor against him.

“How do you feel, wife?” he snickered, fingers never faltering. Her breathing became increasingly erratic, those little noises growing more frantic.

“Godsdammit,” she cried. He plunged his fingers as deep as they could go and held them there, then flicked his thumb across her again. Her hips bucked as she howled.

“If you want to cum, you will do as I say,” Lorcan growled, a feral grin spreading his lips. “Do you want to cum, Elide?” He wiggled his fingers inside her for emphasis.

“Yes! Gods, Lorcan,” she groaned. He started pumping inside her again, slowly and deliberately. He leaned in so his lips brushed right under her ear.

“Tell me that you are brave, Elide,” he crooned, continuing his ministrations.

“Wh-what?” Elide panted, pleasure and arousal clouding her comprehension of his request. He flicked his thumb over her again, her body convulsing.

“Tell. Me,” he demanded. He could feel her body shuddering around him, and he kept his rhythm slow and steady, drawing out her pleasure and forcing her to wait for her release.

“I- I’m brave!” Her voice cracked as her breath sawed in and out of her. “Lorcan!”

“Tell me you’re intelligent,” he murmured, pace increasing ever so slightly. Elide moaned, a guttural sound from her chest.

“I’m intelligent! Gods, please Lorcan,” she begged. Her fingers clung desperately to his shoulders, and he felt her trembling as she rode his hand.

“Tell me that you are strong, Elide.” His mouth dipped to the soft, sensitive skin below her ear, suckling there as he curled his fingers inside her. “Say it, love.”

“I- I… I am strong!” she gasped. Satisfaction rumbled through his chest. Her frantic pants surrounded him as he unleashed himself, long fingers pumping and thumb grinding into her most sensitive spot.

“Yes, you are. Now cum for me,” Lorcan groaned against her before lifting his head, watching his wife as she rode his fingers. A reverent smile graced his features as she finally found her release with a hoarse scream. Pulling her panting form against him he tucked her head under his chin, a hand stroking through her hair and over her back while he pulled his other hand away from between her thighs. “You are strong. You are beautiful. Perranth is lucky to have such a woman to lead them, and the world is fortunate that you saw fit to help save it. Never forget that.” He pressed his lips to her hair as he listened to her breathing return to normal.

“I love you, Lorcan Lochan.” Elide’s contented sigh vibrated against his chest, dainty fingers tracing soft paths over his stomach. How long had he lived, never knowing that happiness like this could exist for him?

“I love hearing that name. Knowing it’s mine.” Lorcan pushed her shoulders, gently pulling them apart so he could press a soft kiss to her lips. “I love you, Elida Lochan.” Reaching down, he tightened the laces to her breeches. He knew the rest of the ride probably wouldn’t be the most comfortable, and he cursed inwardly that he had been so impatient that he hadn’t at least thought that it would be better to just take them off. “We’ll find an inn tonight. Get you a proper bath. Get these clothes washed.”

A dusting of pink colored her cheeks, realization of why she would need those things heating her face. Lorcan chuckled and stood, letting a hand graze her jaw and tuck a lock of onyx silk behind her ear. “Come, wife,” he declared as he swept her up in his arms, cradling Elide against him as he started walking toward the road. She giggled, winding her arms around his neck and craning to plant a kiss on his cheek. Lorcan smiled down at her, grateful for the path that had led him to her. Grateful that their futures were forever intertwined.

“Let’s get you home, Lady of Perranth.”

Tag list: @tealnymph-writes @trashforazriel @secretlovelybeauty @meher-sumedha @imsointobooks @positivewitch @tanvee1231 @imwritingthesewords @camreadsum @vikingmagic33 @shisingh @gwynrielsupremacist @sagureads @katiebellf @deedz-thrillerkilller16 @sv0430

*NOTE* I used the tag list that I have used for all my other fanfic posts, but those have all been ACOTAR. If you would like to not be tagged in Throne of Glass or From Blood and Ash posts, please let me know. Otherwise, I will continue to use the same tag list for all of my fanfic posts!

[sebastianshaw]

Hello it is time for Lourdes headcanons - In addition to being a MASSIVE DRAMA QUEEN she was kind of ditz. Not unintelligent, but like the type to miss stuff very easily. Coming from a sheltered rich girl background helps. Definitely had a few “it’s banana, what can it cost, $10?” moments that made Shaw double-take. Also has drama-queened so hard she’s fallen off balconies before and made Shaw freak the fuck out for a good split-second before she teleports back up there and continues. - As a friend put it, she has chihuahua energy. She is small and dainty and ladylike and also aggro as fuck. - Which is why Shaw never corrects her English. He just lived with trying to work out what “horse tornado” and “spider lobster” meant.  - Despite her being the one with chihuahua vibes, she frequently treated Shaw like a purse dog or a baby instead of, you know, a wild mountain gorilla - Would have loved boba, but it wasn’t popular in the West when she was alive, alas - She loved Easter lilies - This one came up in a fic by @sammysdewysensitiveeyes and I’ve never forgotten it---she wore orange blossom fragrance. - Lourdes introduced him to horses. Shaw was a poor city boy, he’d probably never even MET a horse before, let alone been on one. I think he was probably very freaked out by these animals and very wary of hurting one or fucking up. I’ve been acquainted with horses and riding since I was a toddler, so I’ve never been afraid of them in my life, but a lot of people who meet them in later life tend to be intimidated. Which I get, horses are big and their body language and mannerisms are VERY different from cats and dogs, and they’re EXTREMELY nervous and squirrely and there are all these rules you have to follow like not standing in their blind spot or walking behind them, and fucking these rules up can genuinely result in your death. I’ve never ridden somewhere that didn’t have me sign a waiver stating that if I get fucked up or killed, I promise not to sue.  Now, Shaw can’t get hurt, but like, I think he was still nervous about these animals because THEY are so nervous. Especially since I see Lourdes liking really slim fine-boned breeds like Arabians. And they are BEAUTIFUL, they are undoubtedly the supermodels of the horse world, but they are VERY high-strung. One of the reasons I love drafts so much is because they are CHILL AF. . .and one of the horses I learned to ride on was an Arabian, so like. . .it gave me the reflexes to be ready for anything, but I’d also rather just take a calm horse, thanks. There’s also the fact that Arabs and Akhal-Tekes are built like greyhounds and I think Shaw just looked at them and was like “ok I cannot get on that, I know I’ll be fine but I don’t want to kill my girlfriend’s horse in front of her” (I’ve heard Arabs can actually carry surprisingly heavy people, especially if the person is tall because of how the weight distributes or something, but Shaw doesn’t know that and he’s not risking it) She eventually got him a fleabtten-grey Lipizzaner to learn on. Yes, that’s actually the name of the color, fleabitten-gray. It’s actually much prettier than it sounds, it’s basically a white horse with an abundance of tiny grey freckles. 

[kiribaku-queen]

The Blood King and his Queen [3]

Pairing: Bakugou x reader

Romance, Angst, Drama

Word count: 2.3K

Summary:  From being a mere servant girl to marrying the scariest prince in existence, your world changed right before your eyes. Exchanging places with the princess, you knew, wasn’t going to be easy. But could you have found love on the way? Or was it never meant to be?

A/N: I hope you get just as much second-hand embarrassment from this episode as I did. Thank you for waiting and being patient! I hope this chapter was worth waiting for! Look forward to the very end for a special ending scene. Honestly, I was imagining it like an anime and its like an extra that they put in... idk please bare with me. I thought it was funny! Let me know if you’d like to be added to the tag list! :) happy reading, loves!

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Dinner was eaten in silence. After your smart remark, you didn’t have anything more to say to each other. At least, you didn’t know what to say to him. Was it the best choice to be sassy with him? Probably not. But did he deserve it after being rude to your first? Absolutely.

You looked up from your meal to see Bakugou stuffing his face in an angry matter. Only, Bakugou wasn’t angry. He was just like that, little did you know.

The next morning was no different. Breakfast was eaten in silence. If it wasn’t for that small interaction you had with him the night prior, you would have sworn the mighty Blood Prince was mute. But Kirishima swore to you that the prince doesn’t usually act this way. You’d believe it when you see it.

You had joined Bakugou for breakfast and to your surprise, the table was full with dishes; dishes you recognized and dishes you’ve never seen before. Everything was neatly organized and pretty to look at. It was a sight that you’ve seen before. You don’t know why you’re shocked every time.

“Princess,” Bakugou’s deep voice greeted you out of nowhere. You were startled and confused to hear the prince greet you. Up until this point, he has never even greeted you let alone acknowledge you when you step into the room. Was he finally out of his ‘bad mood’, from what Kirishima told you?

“Your Highness,” you greeted him back with a small bow. Kirishima led you to your spot at the table. When you got situated in your seat, he moved like how he did the previous night and stood guard while you and your ‘fiancé’ enjoyed your meal.

The food presented to you, although foreign looking, looked mouthwatering. And when you looked closer, there were many dishes that you actually knew but only plated differently. So of course, you dug in. Like a princess, no doubt. Or, what you thought like what a princess would do. You took itty bitty bites with your best posture: back straight, chin high, careful not to spill any food on you. Since you don’t have many chances to talk to his highness, meal times are the only times that you could make an impression. Last nights endeavors didn’t seem like it made a lasting impression of hate. Looks like its time to bring it up a notch.

“Excuse me for the corniness, your highness,” you started. Bakugou glanced up. Once again those piercing red eyes made you hold your breath for a second. You raised a spoonful of the yellow corn that was on your plate and gave a cheeky smile. “But this is really a-maize-ing!”

Only the sound of your laughter echoed throughout the dining room. Kirishima’s jaw physical drops in shock. Meanwhile, Bakugou stopped chewing, stopped eating and stared at you.

“Lettuce celebrate to our engagement,” you continued to joke, stabbing your fork in the green leaf and held it high as if you were giving a toast. Bakugou’s face didn’t change one bit. But Kirishima looked mortified. He looked back between you and his angry-looking friend, afraid of how he would react to your not-so comical puns.

The longer he stared at you with his blank eyes, the more cold sweat you began to accumulate. The more cold sweat, the more nervous you became and thus, the more panicky you became. He wasn’t laughing at anything you were saying. You panicked. This was not the reaction you were hoping for. You had to say something. You gave him a nervous laugh again and frantically searched for the next best thing.

“Kiwi at least be friends?” you lifted up the delicate fruit with a glimmer of hope in your eyes. Again, no reaction. Kirishima wanted to cover his face so bad. He couldn’t take this torture anymore! But he had to remain professional. “No? Okay,” you gave up, your voice disappearing into a whisper. Pouting and looking down, you ate your meal quietly. You’ve never felt more embarrassed for yourself than in this moment. Heat rose to your cheeks and you wanted to hide away, never to be seen again.

The moment you looked down in embarrassment, Bakugou tried to stifle a laugh. The sides of his lips couldn’t help but curl up in a small smirk. He tried to eat something to calm him down, but as soon as his lips met the metal fork, his lips curled into a side smile that couldn’t be hid. But you were unable to see this side of Bakugou due to your mortification. Kirishima, on the other hand, raised a brow in amusement. This wasn’t a sight you could see every day.

“Kirishima,” Bakugou addressed the red-head. Straightening his posture, Kirishima put his hands beside his back and raised his chin high.

“Your highness,” Kirishima answered.

“Make sure the princess is ready by the time the horses are packed. We have a long trip ahead of us,” the prince announced and was about to leave, but not before you stood up to stop him.

“Trip? Where are we going?” you asked in a frantic matter. There was a moment’s pause.

“As my queen-to-be, you should know the kingdom, no?” he glanced back. This time, his eyes were not so aggressive. There was amusement and a hint of a challenge, as if he was trying to challenge you. The prince made his way out of the dining hall and back to this residence.

 After taking you back to your room to get ready for your trip around the kingdom, Kirishima made a pitstop at the prince’s quarters to pay visit.

“I saw that,” Kirishima commented, relaxing the moment the door closed behind him.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Bakugou tried to brush it off, but he knows that he’s been caught.

“I’ve never seen you like that around a princess, before. You like her?” Kirishima teased. Bakugou let out a breathy smirk.

“She’s interesting, that’s for sure,” he admit.

“I mean, what was she saying out there? Out of character for a princess, right?” Kirishima finally let out a laugh.

“So out of character that it was funny,” Bakugou, too, let out a small laugh. A moment of laughter passed and Kirishima got serious.

“You think she’s the one you’re looking for?” he asked. But Bakugou couldn’t say for sure.

“We’ll find out after this trip, won’t we?” Bakugou grabbed his iconic cape, draped it over his shoulders and powerfully made his way to the front entrance.

By the time that you were finished getting ready, you made your way to where Bakugou and a group of soldiers was getting geared up. You were dressed in a lighter, more fit for travel, dress. If you moved, the dress wouldn’t be in your way. Although white, your servants packed you many more dresses just like the one you were wearing. Your hair was flowing naturally down your face, leaving an ethereal, fairy-like appearance.  

Bakugou has brought several soldiers along for the trip, all either carrying a box, securing it on the cart, or making sure that all the materials are present. Insides the boxes ranged from a variety of things: food to wood to medicine supplies. You weren’t sure why you need so many things, but you thought it was for safe precautions? Bring more so you don’t worry about it.

“Your highness, everything has been prepared,” Kirishima announced, saluting to his highness. Bakugou stood tall with his signature glare that didn’t seem to faze Kirishima at all.

“Double check?”

“Yes, your highness.”

“We have extra food and clothing?”

“Yes, your highness.”

“The tent is packed?”

“Yes, your highness.”

“Weapons are secured?”

“Yes, your highness.” Bakugou flared his nostrils and nodded his head.

“Good man. Let’s head out!” he bellowed. On cue, all of the soldiers that were coming were hopping on their horses. You looked around nervously. You had never ridden a horse before, let alone seen one in person. Did they expect you to know to ride one? But there was no extra horse for you. You were about to ask Kirishima but then, a hand is reached out to you. Turning around, you see the Blood Prince, himself, giving you his hand.

“My lady,” he gently grabbed the tips of your fingers, bringing them to his lips. His gaze never leaving yours for a second. You were expecting him to kiss your hand, but instead, he gently laid his lips on top of his thumb where it rested between his lips and your fingers. Heat rushed to your cheeks and you couldn’t stop the shocked expression that was blatant on your face.

The prince helped you on the horse but what you weren’t expecting was him to hop on the same horse right behind you. His presence closer than what you have wanted in such a short amount of time. His arms reached around your waist to grab the ropes, unexpectedly pulling you closer to his chest.

Sitting in front of him, you were as stiff as a board. You couldn’t relax your shoulders because if you did, you would be resting against his body. The beginning of the ride was met in silence. No talking was happening, not even among his solders. Talk about an awkward trip. You hoped it wasn’t going to be like this the entire trip. You would be so miserable.

It took a while to escape the palace grounds, but once you did, you were surprised by how beautifully green and luscious the scenery ahead of you was. The sight bestowed upon you was nothing like your imagination. From the rumors, if the prince was that bad of a person, then surely his kingdom would portray that same image: full of poverty, death, killing, blood. But no. His kingdom was thriving.

In order to continue on with the trip, you and your crew had to pass by the local town. The people looked content and happy. They were flourishing! There were many stands selling essentials such as clothing and food. Others were selling odd objects foreign to you. The smell of meat grilling and sweets filled your noise. Kids were running around without a care in the world. There was so much going on that you didn’t know what to focus your eyes on.

Bakugou happened to look down at you, only to see your eyes wide with excitement and wonder. Your head twisted left and ride to grasp the whole world around you. Bakugou looked at you and back at what your eyes were focused on. Behind you, he had signaled his soldiers to halt and move to the side. But you had noticed immediately.

“Why are we stopping?” you asked, curiously.

“One of these idiots forgot something.” Bakugou made up on the fly.

“But we didn’t forget anything,” the soldier with electric blonde hair commented, so quietly that you couldn’t overhear him. Kirishima just nudged him in the gut to shut him up. “Would you like to explore with me while they get it taken care of?” Bakugou asked. You were surprised but intrigued by his question. This was probably the only time in your whole life that you could explore in such a manner. You had to take advantage while you could.

“Please,” you say.

And just like that you looked like a child exploring the world for the first time. And really, that’s what it was. All your life, you served the princess. Your earliest memories were of the palace. You never knew what it was like outside the palace. Everything fascinated you: the food, the smells, the sights, the clothes, the jewelry, the accessories, the people. How could you not know about any of this?

Bakugou watched you closely as you explored on your own and smiled to himself. He was not expecting the princess to act like such a kid.

“You must never get out much in your kingdom,” he comments. You look at him with a shy smile.

“Was it that obvious?”

“Maybe just a little,” he jokes. Your shy smile turns in a more comfortable, laid back laugh.

“I’ve never been outside the palace walls. It’s a first for me,” you say. You weren’t wrong. You were speaking for yourself, but you’re sure the real princess was able to explore her kingdom.

“Now that won’t do. Get whatever you want, my treat,” Bakugou offers to you. Your eyes up once again like a kid. Bakugou gives you his head of approval and now your options were opened like you never imagined. Anything you wanted? What did you even want? You felt like just looking was a treat for you. You were about to decline until the sight of the street food caught your attention. You got a closer look and the smell just enticed you immediately.

From there, it was nonstop to discovering new foods. You tried all these sweet that you didn’t know existed. It moved from food to trying on luxurious clothing and feeling fabrics that was foreign on your skin.

You were following Bakugou around blatantly. He was commenting on some things to help educate you better. But your eyes were so easily distracted. Due to the overflow of people, if you didn’t pay attention, you could easily get lost within the crowd. Unlucky for you, the moment you looked away, the prince had already disappeared from your vision. Panic ensued in you. No matter where you turned your head, you couldn’t see that tall, blonde anywhere.

“Bakugou!” you reached out, terrified. Thank god Bakugou has good ears. The instant you called his name, he was already looking back for you. You reached out and grabbed his forearm, tightly, determined not to let go. Your actions caused Bakugou to become flustered.

“Don’t get lost,” he scolded. Idiot¸ he thought while covering his mouth and looked away. He wanted to hide the very clear blush that was on his cheeks.

A/N: As always, I would love to know your thoughts! The adventure officially begins now! If you would still like to be tagged for future chapters, please let me know! They are always open!

Spoiler! Next chapter will make your heart go doki-doki <3

Tagged: @superblyspeedydragon​ @melasnchz-things​ @animexholic​ @bkgwrites​ @sam-i-am-1025​ @apexqueenie​ @katsukibabe​ @germfart3​ @tspice283​ @angie-1306​ @bakugous-trauma​ @bakugousmrs​

After scene credits:

“Oi, you seeing what I’m seeing?” Kaminari, one of the soldiers chosen to tag along, observed. Kaminari and Kirishima were resting on top of the roofs, getting a clear view of you and the prince.

“Shut. The. Fuck. Up. Kaminari,” Kirishima rubbed the temples of his head. Kaminari pouted and continued to drink out of his canteen.

“I’m just saying,” he mumbled, sadly.

[systlinsideblog]

Part 7

The fall of the great walled city of Turia came on a day shimmering with heat, but with storm clouds building on the horizion, looming heavy as they built into great mounds over the prairies. The air smelled of the promise of rain; that was good, Systlin thought. A good heavy rain later would wash the blood off the streets.

Turia’s towers glittered white in the sun. The walls were high and proud and in excellent repair; the warriors manning the top of it were said to be skilled. Everyone she’d spoken to had told her the same; Turia was home to a million and a half people. Turia was the jewel of the prairies, the Ar of the South. Turia was home to marvelous markets and one could find any luxury one wished there. The people of Turia were grand and wealthy and proud, and though they loved luxury their fighting men were excellent.

Its walls were high and thick. Its wells were deep and never ran dry. There were food stores to outlast the greatest of sieges. The nine gates were thick and strong and guarded zealously; while attackers died at the walls, the people of Turia would relax in their bath houses and dine on delicacies and laugh.

Turia was splendid. Turia was rich. Turia had been sieged many times, but never once had Turia fallen.

Systlin rolled her neck and shoulders, cracking any tension out.

She remembered Myr. Turia reminded her strongly of it. Myr too had been rich, and strong, and undefeated. Myr as well had thought itself safe behind tall, thick walls and strong gates, guarded by skilled fighters. Myr as well had laughed at the army camped on the plains before it. The walls of Myr had famously been bound in Power, power laid so deeply and thickly by generation after generation of Myrish earth witches that there had been more power than stone to the walls. Breakers before her, born to the desert, had tested those walls. Breakers before her had exhausted themselves against them and failed and died.

She had tried herself against them anyway. She had not failed. There was a hundred foot gap in the walls of Myr now, named for her. “The Mitraka’s Gate,” they called it. The legend of how she’d brought down the famously unbreakable walls of Myr had spread north to the Skyfire reaches and south to Sielauk before she’d even left the deserts.

Turia’s walls were not as high or thick as Myr’s, and they were not spelled for protection. Against a Breaker of the least power they’d be useless, and Systlin was the strongest Breaker ever to live. She eyed the warriors on top of them, still out of bowshot, and for a moment felt a flash of pity for them.

It was gone quickly. She wondered how many of those proud men had women chained to their beds. A million and a half people, but that number did not, she knew, count slaves. Counting slaves, it was said that the number was at least twice that, and likely higher.

Foicatch was watching her. He had not been at Myr when it fell, but he had been there since. He’d ridden through the Mitraka’s Gate. He knew, of course, that she was remembering.

“Been a bit,” He said at last, as they waited for Myr to send out its famous tharlarion cavalry, and honestly though she found herself growing fond of the kaiila the Wagon Peoples rode and could admit that the vicious reptilian tharlarion were impressive, she wished she had a good, normal horse. “Since we had a real battle before us.”

“Hmmm.” She agreed. The last time, indeed, they’d been fighting a mad god and his creatures. She’d killed a god, in that battle. Killed one god and threatened another. “Do try not to die. I’d hate to have to find a new royal consort.”

A snort. “I’ve no intention of dying today. I want to see you on the throne of that city.” A pause. “I’ve always had rather a fantasy, actually, of you on the throne of freshly conquered city, and me on my knees…”

Oh. Well. That did sound interesting. She gave him an appraising look. “Have you? You could have said something.”

“Well. It’s always been so busy when we’re breaching a stronghold, and things were all happening so fast at the time. You were so intent; I wasn’t sure you’d take it well.” A shrug. “Early days of us and all. By the time I knew better, you had the North in line again, and when we fought the Fallen One there weren’t many strongholds to breach or thrones to make use of.”

That was fair. “I’m going to hold you to that.” She said thoughtfully, even as the great gates ground slowly open and ranks of fighting men on those two-legged sharp-toothed reptilian beasts began to file out. She eyed the gleaming lances they carried disapprovingly; those were, of course, going to be the first thing she did away with once things got going.

Using her power in pitched battles was risky; she did not like doing it to kill. Not more than needed. But shattering some lances was no issue at all.

He grinned, that familiar and beloved flash of white teeth against that dark beard. “Oh, excellent.” He shot the enemy cavalry a look, and then looked back at her and raised an eyebrow. She nodded once. He leaned over, and she leaned to meet him; they exchanged a kiss, brief but sweet, and he peeled his kaiila away and headed to take command of the left flank.

She looked back over the prairie. There were several thousand riders now, forming ranks. A few men wearing particularly gleaming armor with extra gold leaf seemed to be conferring in a huddle; she waited.

“Ubara?” Dina said softly, from her side. “Ubara, should we…” There was nervousness in her voice.

“Not yet.” Systlin was the veteran of many battles of this scale; Myr was much larger than Turia, and that had been only the first city she’d taken. Dina was not. Even in a seasoned warrior, nerves before battle were normal, but Dina had taken up a spear only a year and a half past. She’d fought and killed, but the other tribes and towns and cities they’d taken were nothing on the scale of Turia. “They’ll send someone to talk, like all the others have. I’ll either kill him or send him back, like all the other times. I’ll break their lances; that will be the signal to charge.”

She looked to her side. Dina’s face was drawn tight. Systlin remembered that Dina, before slave chains, had once been a free woman, and had been born in Turia.

“You have a father, don’t you?” Systlin said, more softly.

“I do.” She whispered. “He never took a slave. He loved my mother, a Free Companion, and never took a slave; he has mourned her since her death. He is of the baker’s caste, as was my mother. He makes sweet rolls and gives them to children, and the best bread and pastries. I do not brag; he was famous in the city, and rich women and men came to buy from us. He and my brothers and I worked hard and were proud of our work.” She paused a moment. “I do not know if my brothers have taken slaves. And if they have…” Another, longer pause, and she looked away. “If they have, I will not beg mercy for them, but I will mourn what they might have been had their minds not been poisoned.”

Systlin thought of her own brother, dead so young. Of laughing and competing and playing with him, of the friendly fighting between close siblings. Of his smile and his laugh, and his sharp wit. She wondered, if her place and Dina’s had been switched, if she could have watched him killed for slaving and rape.

She probably could have. She knew it in the deepest place in her heart, where she worried sometimes at her own coldness. She probably would have done it with her own hands, at that. She’d executed her uncle and aunt with her own hands, in that battle to bring the warring lords tearing the North to bloody scraps to heel. But she was a famously hard and coldhearted bitch when it came to matters of justice, as any noble in the North of Ellinon would tell. “The Iron Bitch”, she knew they called her behind her back. “The Iron Bitch with the frozen heart.”

She’d have done it, yes. But she’d have mourned intensely after, for what might have been.

Dina was loyal and dear to her, a good friend. But if her brothers were rapists and slavers, Systlin knew that even if Dina begged, she would not grant mercy unless the offended girls asked it. It ran counter to everything in her to do so.

Goddess of Justice. The Lady’s voice whispered in her head.

Fuck off, she thought in return. I’ve shit to do.

“We can hope,” she said. “That they take after your father. And we’re not here to loot; if your father is in his shop and not with the fighting men, he’s quite safe.”

That seemed to ease Dina slightly. The woman was still used to the Gorean idea of war, where taking a city meant sacking it utterly, looting and burning and slaving. No army under Systlin’s command would ever fight so, though. She’d kill the soldiers responsible with her bare hands.

“Baker’s caste,” Dina said. “Do not fight, not unless they must. They will not be on the walls. Those on the walls and on the field here are warrior caste.”

Systlin would have to investigate this caste system more thoroughly. She did not like the idea on principle, but it seemed a force of social stability that most Goreans were very attached to. From what she’d gathered there were provisions for moving through castes if one wished. However, she’d heard that some, such as weavers and spinners, were considered ‘low caste’.

Systlin had attempted such tasks before; her mother was fond of spinning and weaving, though she was Queen Mother and needed never touch a spindle if she didn’t wish. After fifteen minutes spent at it, Systlin had come to the conclusion that the work that went into cloth was absurdly complicated and skilled, and had never touched a spindle since. She did, however, have a reputation for never haggling when it came to buying cloth or paying her seamstresses.

Low caste her arse. The idea of any of the most essential tasks…potters, farmers, fishermen, herders…being lower than any others raised her hackles. Perhaps the idea of low or high caste could go…

Across the grassland, a small party of men, led by one of the men in gleaming gold-chased armor began to ride towards them. Systlin put aside other concerns and nodded once to Dina, who nodded back and went to lead the right flank.

Her kaiila could sense that battle was coming, and shifted under her, tossing her head in eagerness. Systlin held her steady, and waited.

They headed, of course, for Foicatch. Systlin sighed and rolled her eyes, and nudged her kaiila forward. The creature sprang forward in that long, loping predator stride, and she headed them off in moments. They glared at her, all hostile intent. She regarded them in what was probably a dismissive manner, but so far as she was concerned these men were already dead. They were nothing that she had not seen on this world already, in the smaller towns that lay outside Turia. She’d killed a thousand like them since coming here.

“You know full well that I lead this army.” She said bluntly. “You’ve heard the stories.” She sighed. “It makes me curious…”

“Stories of trickery and nonsense about sorcery.” The man with the glittering armor said loftily. “A few villages might fall to some unnatural woman, but this is Turia. We will not be afraid of a tribe of women who think themselves the equals of men.”

“…As I was saying,” Systlin raised her voice slightly. “It makes me curious as to the full degree which you, meaning men on this world, are capable of deluding yourselves. I’ve been halfway through conquering towns and tribes and the men would still be telling me that I couldn’t hope to carry through, because I was but a woman.” She shook her head. “Almost sad, really. I’ve an army of  twenty five thousand camped before your gates. I know you have heard the stories of how I’ve conquered cities across the prairies and brought all the tribes of the Wagon People under my rule. I am Ubara-Sana of the plains, by my own hand, and I’ve crushed every force sent against me. And yet here you are, still claiming the same old tired thing.”

She looked him in the eyes. “This is the part where, if you are smart, you will confer with your people and you will open the gates, lay down your arms, and have a chance to survive this.”

He scoffed. Entirely predictably. “This is Turia, woman. The plainsfolk may not have been able to humble you, but Turia will. We’ve ten thousand cavalry, and that is not counting the fighting men on foot. You and your slave girls with swords can batter yourselves to ribbons against us, and we’ll put collars on those of you not killed.” A slow, lewd smile, because apparently he felt he hadn’t dug his own grave deep enough. “Maybe I’ll put mine on you, woman, and teach you to obey a master’s word.”

“Well.” Systlin shrugged. “I did give you a chance.”

She’d learned knife throwing from Stellead, but the Arms Master of the Bloodguard had been dubious of its effectiveness and the instruction had only been basic. It was at the Iron Mountain, under the tutelage of the master assassins of the Master of Knives, that she’d learned how to properly throw a knife.

She’d killed the Master of Knives, of course. He’d taken the contract on her father, and sent out one of his Shadow Hands to kill a king. She’d killed the Brother of Shadow who’d wielded the knife, as well, and many others besides. The Iron Mountain stood empty now, the bones of those she’d killed gathering dust in the halls.

Her knife took the golden-armored warrior through the eye. He looked quite shocked as he slid from the saddle and fell. His men started in rage, and went for their lances.

Systlin smiled at them. Her power rose, a cold sweep through her bones, tingling under her skin. She raised her hand, and flicked her fingers negligently at them, mostly for show.

Their lances shattered into splinters. So did at least five thousand other lances of the leading ranks of the famed thalarion cavalry of Turia.

A great confused sound went up, and thalarion shied at the strange scent of Power in the air, sharp as ozone. And as fighting men scrambled for their secondary weapons, Systlin’s forces charged.

Ice took the first man before her just under the chin. She didn’t quite behead him as her coal-black kaiila shot past, but slashed the big artery on his neck open. Blood pumped, and the sound he made as he fell was a terrible gurgle.

She wheeled her mount and ducked the frantic sweep of a sword. The riders were startled, off balance, and that was death when facing a warrior of her caliber. Her kaiila darted in and took the throat of one of the slower High Thalarions, tearing it open. The beast went down, and its rider with it. Systlin kneed the sides of her kaiila and it leapt; the final warrior managed to parry her first blow, a slicing cut at his neck.

She twisted her wrist, reversed the grip on Ice’s hilt with a little twist and clever movement of her fingers that Stellead had made her practice ten thousand times, and drove it into his chest under his ribs. Drew it back with a sharp jerk as she wheeled her kaiila again, and flipped it back around in her hand. She did not have to think about the motion; she had not missed the catch on the twist since she had been a child training under Arms Master Stellead.

Then her kaiila was running, and she pushed it hard for a few paces until she regained her place leading the center. Lances glittered to either side of her, and she felt a fierce pride in the women she’d trained.

She eyed the gates of Turia, behind the regrouping lines of thalarion cavalry. Arrows arched from behind, as her mounted archers began picking off the front ranks of the Turian forces as they came into range.

Arrows returned, from on top of the walls, and one bounced off of her wraithen-scale armor. She lashed out with her power, still simmering under her skin, and five hundred bows shattered. Cries of dismay went up a second time.

She eyed the great gates of Turia, even as her kaiila gathered itself to leap and the first of her lance-fighters neared the front lines of the Turian cavalry. She eyed them for a half a second before she hit the front lines of the Turians, and she Broke them.

The great gates of Turia, and fifty feet of the wall to either side, crumbled into splinters and sand. There was a great cry of horror and dismay from the city, and cries of “UBARA! UBARA!” from her own warriors, delighted.

And then her front line was smashing into the Turian cavalry, and there was no more time for thought.

The Turians were skilled, but they were off balance, had lost the advantage of their long lances, and had not truly been expecting a proper fight. Systlin and her best lancers hit them like a hammer, and pierced deep into the ranks before the Turians quite knew it was happening. The Turians were down to swords now, and only a few of the rear ranks still had lances. Systlin’s riders had long lances with reach, and their kaiila were faster and more nimble than the high thalarion the Turians rode.

And, of course, they had her.

Systlin was no stranger to mounted combat. She’d ridden with the tribes of the desert at Sura’s side for years, and was as deft a hand at mounted combat as any Rider. She’d never have been accepted, otherwise.

It felt, she had to admit, as she turned a sword aside with Ice and flicked the sword around, down, and up, taking off the man’s sword hand at the wrist, very good to be at it again. The man screamed, but she was past him. A lance glanced off of her armor, and she wheeled her kaiila. The beast snapped, catching a leg, and tore the man off of his mount. His thalarion turned and went for her mount, but her kaiila shook its head and was leaping away before it could do any damage.

Systlin fought with all the skill and speed and cunning she had. She fought viciously, the whole time willing that her army would not fail now, would not quail because this battle was larger and closer-fought than any before. She willed it, imagining that she could throw wide her arms and take under her shadow all of her proud free mounted warriors, and through sheer will alone keep them fighting.

And she did what she had always done, in battle. She led on the front line, and fought like nothing the Turians had ever seen before. Men rose before her and men fell; she was past Power now, and killed with pure hard-won skill and naked steel. She cut faces, necks, torsos, limbs. Ice’s blue-tinged blade was purple with blood, and blood spattered her all over. She killed, and killed, with all the skill of those long hours of training and decades more of fighting for her life. She fought, and killed, her blood sang with it.

You were never made for peace. The Lady’s words. It was true; she knew it was true. She loved battle, though she knew it spoke of her basically coldhearted and vicious nature that she did. She was a warrior born and trained and blooded, and she was at home on the killing field.

She’d fought three wars, leading from the front. She’d won each, and the sight of her at the forefront of her warriors, in her element, bloody and screaming and bringing death with her, was absolute horror to the men of Gor.

The sight that horrified the men of Turia stiffened the spines of her warriors, and to the endless horror of the men of Turia, the former slave girls, now screaming warriors with lances and swords, cut into them with a fury they’d never seen.

With her at their front, her mounted warriors smashed the Turian lines apart, just as the left flank led by Foicatch drove hard at the gap left at the rear, pushing the cavalry of Turia away from the broken gates and cutting them off from retreat into the city. Foicatch himself set himself in the middle of the smashed gate, and Systlin caught glimpses of him engaged in fierce close fighting now and then as foot soldiers pressed forward from the city to try and relieve the cavalry she was driving like a herd of sheep across the prairies before Turia.

But the fighting men of Turia were skilled, and proud, and they began to regroup. Men were shouting orders, and the remaining lances managed to form up defensive lines. The fighting grew vicious, even after Systlin Broke more lances, and their advance ground to a crawl. Their armies were nearly matched; Systlin’s warrior women had better armor and better reach, but the Turian fighting men had more experience, and it began to show as they got their feet under them. Systlin’s troops fought like mad wildcats, and she was so proud; they were still winning forward, inch by inch, but she was not about to spend more lives than she had to.

The Turians began to press back, and her advance ground to a halt. Systlin smiled, because she heard the galloping of the kaiila, and knew.

Dina’s mounted archers swept past, and the women turned on their kaiilas with those short but powerful recurve bows of wood and bosk horn. Strings slid from thumb rings, and three thousand arrows hammered home through that light leather armor that the men of this world favored. The kaiilas wheeled, and the women turned again, as they’d practiced a thousand times, sitting backwards on their mounts. Strings sang again, and arrows flew as thick as rain.

Turians died. Systlin yelled and plunged forward again, and to shouts of “UBARA! UBARA! WHIP-BURNER! CHAIN-STRIKER!” her warriors followed.

The Turians had nowhere to retreat from Dina’s archers, except back onto the lances of Systlin’s mounted spear-women. No rescue came from Turia; Foicatch was stacking the bodies of fighting men four deep in the ruin of the shattered gates.

The fighting outside the city drug out a big longer; it took time to slaughter ten thousand cavalry and their mounts. But caught between Dina’s wheeling mounted archers and their storm of arrows and the lances of Systlin’s cavalry and Systlin’s own sword, they were cut to bits.

It was then that Systlin regrouped her lancers and led them to the shattered gates, where the foot soldiers of Turia were approaching more cautiously than before. The shattered gates themselves were a charnel house; fighting men and women both lay dead alongside wounded and dead and shrieking kaiila, and blood was red over the stones of the road and the rubble of the gates and walls. Foicatch and his warriors held, and the fighting men of Turia seemed reluctant to approach within reach of Foicatch’s sword.

They parted to let Systlin through, and her lancers flowed around to guard the sides of the ranks of warriors.

Systlin joined Foicatch at the front lines. She must look a terrible sight; she was head to toe blood and mud, the colors of her wraithen armor dulled under the coating. Foicatch’s own set of wraithen scale armor was similarly filthy. There was a cut high on his temple, a glancing blow that was not serious but bleeding freely. Even as she joined him she felt a trickle of Power as he flicked droplets of blood away from his eyes.

A lull in the fighting; the soldiers of Turia drew back, appalled at the sight. Foicatch eyed her, gaze flicking head to toe to check her for injuries. She gave him a slight reassuring shake of her head, doing the same to him. The cut on his temple seemed to be the worst of it. She turned to eye the soldiers before them.

“Your cavalry,” Systlin informed the fighting men before them. “Are dead. My throat slitters are making short work of any survivors this very moment. You did not hear the offer I made before, I think, so I will make it one more time. Lay your weapons down now, and you may find mercy. I will not give you another chance.”

Not one fighting man moved, save for the one who yelled in defiance, pulled a knife from his boot, and hurled it at her head.

It was a good throw, she thought, as she twisted her head to the side even as his hand swept up with the blade. It was a good throw. Had she not been taught by Stellead and the Shadow Hands of the Iron Mountain, it might have struck home. As it was, it simply scraped her cheekbone in passing; a shallow cut that would heal quickly and cleanly.

Answer enough, she supposed. Foicatch was already moving, and fell on the knife-thrower with a single-minded viciousness that was poetry to see. Systlin was moving almost as quickly, and that was where the battle in the city began.

It was nasty work. Street by street, driving the fighting men before them. Many of the freed slaves in Systlin’s forces had been from Turia, and as planned they now took the lead. As Systlin had suspected, their knowledge of the city was invaluable; meeting places and baths where warriors gathered were found out. Attacks from small alleys were anticipated. Cobbles went slick with blood. A nasty dagger opened a long cut into Systlin’s left forearm, and some of the slick blood under their boots and the kaiila’s paws was her own. She bound it with a strip torn from her own shirt, cinching the knot tight with her teeth, and pressed on.

Turia was a city of millions; it took hours to work their way through, even with the size of her army. It was late afternoon when at last she realized that any warriors found out were fleeing rather than fighting, and being quickly ridden down by archers. Systlin stopped, at last, sitting high on her kaiila, and knew that she was Ubara of Turia, and by extension all of the plains in truth, by right of conquest.

Dina was staying close now, guiding them through the streets. She saw the same realization dawn on Dina’s face; Foicatch was already smiling that grim satisfied smile she remembered well.

“Take me to the throne of Turia.” Systlin said, and Dina did.

The first drops of the storm hit the bloody dust and thunder growled low when the reached the great palace of Turia. It was in a vast central building, half law chambers and half a throne hall. It was all in the same white stone that the city seemed to favor, with a great dome over the hall where the Thrones of Turia sat. They were very fine; there was, Systlin was sure, wood somewhere under the silver and inlaid semiprecious stones, but it was difficult to make out. She left footprints of blood and mud across the spotless tiled floors.

She’d made instructions clear before the first spear was lifted; her warriors knew what to do. One part of being a leader, her father had said long ago. Is finding competent people that you trust, and then trusting them to do their jobs without your having to hang over their shoulder.

He’d been right. Her people were competent, and she did trust them. So while she waited for her warriors to ferret out the various guild and caste leaders and other important persons, Systlin ascended the nine steps to the dais…it was gorgeously carpeted, and inlaid with ivory and gold…and sat herself down in the larger throne, the throne of the Ubar of Turia.

Foicatch eyed her. There was an answering warm pulse that went down her spine and pooled insistently between her legs; there was nothing like battle to get the blood up. But…She raised her eyebrows back at him. “Not yet.” She said, somewhat reluctantly, and motioned with her chin at the smaller throne, the throne where traditionally the Ubara sat. “Not quite yet. It’s not properly conquered until I explain things to the important people, is it?”

“I suppose not.” But his eyes were lingering on her lips, and slid down over the length of her legs and the curve of her hip even so. She could feel the heat of it, and dearly wished to answer it.

But it was about at that point that people…some of them bedraggled, some begging and pleading, some silent and apparently numbly shocked into silence, all led by her fierce and triumphant warrior women, began to file into the great throne chamber. All were drenched; Systlin could hear rain rattling against the roof now, and thunder rumbling quite often.

They stared. Systlin knew what she must look like. She sat, and waited. Her shoulder ached; she’d been slammed into a wall at one point, and probably had a spectacular bruise. Her arm where she’d been cut stung. Her muscles burned from exertion; she’d been fighting on and off for hours. The cut on her cheek had scabbed, and pulled when she moved or spoke.

None of it mattered. Victory was pounding in her veins along the adrenaline. Even now, she knew, her warriors were removing chains from slaves; she could taste it on the air, and it was as sweet as honeyed wine.  

Goddess of justice and war.

She ignored the voice of the Lady whispering.

Dina was conferring with the other women native to Turia. They looked fearsome; all were armored and armed and bloody. Most of the blood, to Systlin’s immense pride, was not their own. They had wounds, true, but most were not serious, and every warrior will earn scars. They were standing and moving and speaking with a new edge of confidence that had not been there even this morning, and Systlin knew why.

Stories would be told of this, she knew. Stories would be told, and the warriors who’d fought with her to take Turia would be legend in their own right. And they knew it as well; had proved something to themselves that could never be taken away.

Yes, these warrior women would say, years from now. Yes, of course I know of the Fall of Turia. I was there. I fought at the Ubara’s side. There would be looks then, as awed as any Systlin herself had ever received, and she knew in her bones how the legends would be told in decades to come.

Dina of Turia, who led the Ubara’s archers and broke the Turian cavalry with the Ubara.

Sabra of Turia, the first of all who had her chains struck off, who rode with her lance at the Ubara’s side, in her honor guard, and who fought so fiercely that none could stand before her. Never in the battle for the city did she leave the Ubara’s side, and she walked through blood ankle-deep that day.

Hula of Turia, Doreen of Turia, Hireena of the Tuchuks. Tamra of Ar…

The list went on and on, and pride was a bright warmth in her chest.

Dina said something to Sabra, who nodded and turned to cross the hall and climb the steps. Systlin remembered that first day; Sabra clutching, terrified, at her sleeve. There was little trace of the frightened and beaten slave girl now; Sabra was one of her best with a spear, and she wore thick bosk-hide armor sewn with metal plates. Her arms and shoulders were strong, and her blonde hair braided tightly back. There was blood and mud crusted in it, and a vicious bruise showing around one eye. Her nose had been broken at some point, and hastily reset,. The dried blood from it was still on her chin. She was smiling a smile of victory.

“Ubara sana.” She said. “The guild leaders, councilors, and other important leaders of the city are assembled.”

“Thank you, Sabra.” Systlin smiled back, just as fierce. “And well fought. Fierce as a she-panther.”

The grin widened. “Thank you, Ubara-sana!”

“I told you,” Systlin said, still smiling. “You doubted me, but here you stand. When I secure the treasury, you are to take as much as you can carry, as a mark of my esteem. I name you now to my personal guard, for as long as you desire the post, but you must promise to tell me if you ever wish to leave. You were the first to have her chains thrown off, and I’ve no wish to ever bind you with others.”

Sabra blinked rapidly, and Systlin realized that she was blinking back tears. “I will, Ubara sana.” She said. “But I do not think that day will come.”

“Well. If it does, let me know. And I’ve another duty for you; you were the first to take up weapons, even before Dina. If you will, once things settle more in a few days, go among the women of Turia and tell them your story. And if any of them wish it, bring them to me, and help me train them as warriors, as you trained yourself.”

A light like fever lit in Sabra’s eyes. “Ubara sana,” she whispered. “You honor me, and I will do this.”

“You won your honor yourself, with your own hands and by your own actions.” Systlin said. “I merely handed you the tools to do so. Bring them all forward, then.”

Foicatch, she realized, was staring at her with an intensity that was scorching.

“You will never have any idea,” he breathed, very quietly, as her warriors herded the frightened rich and powerful of the city to the base of the raised dais the thrones sat upon, “the effect you have on people. What it’s like to see, from the outside.”

“Hush.” She murmured back, just as softly. “You’re biased.”

“I am. But I’m also right. Every woman in your forces would have followed you to the death this morning, but after this they’d follow you past it as well.”

“Hmm.” She allowed, but it was a pleased sound. “I try only to be what they deserve.”

“Yes.” He said. “Yes, and that’s why.”

She eyed the small crowd at the foot of the dais. They were frightened and soaked from the storm, bedraggled and sullen.

“Foicatch, darling.” She said. “Our guests appear to be soaked. Could you give them a hand?”

He made an agreeable sound and lifted a hand. She tasted Power on the back of her tounge, ozone and burnt cinnamon.

There were gasps and screams as the water streamed and spiraled off of the huddled leaders of Turia. Foicatch pulled it into a hovering globe above his hand, and then rather negligently flicked it aside. It splashed to the tiles, leaving the people in the crowd quite dry.

Dina clicked her tounge against her teeth. “Are you all sorcerers, on your world?” A year and a half of following Systlin, one of the strongest fire witches and the strongest Breaker ever to live, had rubbed the novelty off of seeing Power worked.

“Not all of us.” Systlin lifted a shoulder. “But a good many.”

“My mother’s a stronger water witch than me,” Foicatch said absently. “I’ve only half her gift.”

“Wait until you see him really angry,” Systlin said. “And see him tear the water from a man’s blood.”

“I have.” That was Hireena, herding the Turians forward. Her voice was low, and she looked at Foicatch with deep respect. “At the gates, as we fought.”

“Did you?” She said, with interest. Systlin had seen it done before. It had been….compelling. Hmmmm.

Later. Later. More important things first.

“Turia.” She said, her voice clear. “I greet you.”

Furious, frightened faces looked up at her. Mutters went around. Systlin remembered well what she’d been told.

“I greet you,” she said. “As Ubara Sana of the plains, won by my own hand. But of course, you are Turian, and the power in Turia lies with the merchants.”

“It is so.” One veiled woman said. She was looking up curiously; her robes were of exquisitely fine silks, and embroidered with gold. Pearls hung from the edges of her sleeves, and crystal beads glittered across her gown.

“That,” said Systlin. “May change. I understand, of course, that you’ve already well established trade routes, and I’ve no wish to interfere with them. But I am Ubara Sana now, and the old laws will change. You may have heard that, on the plains, slave chains have been outlawed, and all slaves freed. It is true, and as of this moment by my decree every slave in Turia is freed.”

There was a roar of arguments and shouting and disapproving noises.

“…cannot simply…”

“…My business is slaves! How am I to…”

“…an outrage!...”

Systlin waited them out, patient. As she did, another of the Turian women jogged in through the great door; the rain had washed away most of the mud and blood, but she was limping, a strip of cloth bound around one thigh. She murmured something to Dina, who nodded once and took the nine steps up to the dais two at a time.

“There is a problem.” Dina said. “Saphrar, a wealthy merchant, one of the leaders of the Merchant’s Caste in the city. He’s a fortified compound, and has walled himself up with his mercenary forces.”

“Tell everyone to pull back.” Systlin said at once. “Keep an eye on the compound; let no one escape. After I finish here, I’ll come and tend to his gates myself.”

Dina smiled thinly, and went back down, murmured this to the other woman. The other woman grinned like a wolf, and hurried out, swift despite her wounded leg.

“Have you all finished?” Systlin raised her voice above the crowd.

“I will contract with the Guild of Assassins for this!” A man with thick dark hair and wearing gold and white robes said furiously. He had a hand raised and was shaking a finger at the sky. “I’ll have your head in my vault. I swear it on the Priest-Kings! “

“I take it that you deal in slaves,” Systlin said dryly.

“I do! It is an honorable trade, and I have been dealing in slave meat for…”

Systlin nodded at Dina, who moved quickly. Her knife gleamed, and the man’s throat opened ear to ear. A gurgle, and a red rush of blood, and utter shocked silence.

“Slavery,” Systlin said mildly. “Is one of the greatest crimes, and slavers are condemned to death. Those who procure and deal in slaves for their own wealth are doubly damned. Throw his body to the kaiila; they must be hungry after the fight. What was his name?”

Silence.

“I asked,” Systlin said, voice going cold. “For his name. I expect an answer.”

Another moment of silence dragged out, and then…“Kazrak.” The veiled woman who’d spoken before said. “Kazrak of the Merchant Caste. His mansion is next to mine, and his warehouse is in the low streets, near the slave market.”

“Did he have a Free Companion, any children?”

“Both.”

“Then half of his estate shall go to them, and they shall maintain their home. The other half of his assets are forfeit, and will be redistributed between his slaves, who are now free.” Systlin raised an eyebrow. “Might I have your name?”

“Aphris.” Said the woman. “Of the Merchant Caste. I deal in silks and wine, not people.” She shot a somewhat vicious look at the dead Kazrak, as he was dragged off, leaving a smear of red on the tiles. “And he was cruel, and it does my heart good to see justice done him. I take it then that we, the free women of Turia, are not to be put in slave chains?”

“Bloody pits, no.” Systlin said, repulsed.

“I did not think so.” Aphris said, cool and collected, a point of calm in the angry and terrified crowd. “But many freewomen feared the worst. It is, after all, how war has been done on Gor for a very long time. You can understand the worry.”

It was a reasonable worry, Systlin supposed. “Of course. But have no fear, no hand will be raised against you. You are free, and will remain free. Aside from that, by my laws it will be punishable by death if anyone, from anywhere, ever attempted to enslave you, and I would hunt that man down and kill him for daring to put chains on one of my subjects.”

There were many free women in the crowd, and at the words there was sort of a sigh that ran through them, and a sense of some great tension lifted. The men looked startled. Systlin gestured, taking in the concealing robes all of the free women wore.

“It is no longer required,” she continued. “That you wear full Robes of Concealment in public. A free woman may dress as she likes and go where she likes. If you feel more comfortable in your robes, of course, then you are welcome to wear them, but it is not required. If you choose to set them aside and experience difficulty from anyone, you may make a formal complaint and the matter will be dealt with. I will make people and resources available to deal with such matters.”

A murmur. More looks of outrage from the men.

“Many,” Aphris said. “Will welcome this. But for myself, Ubara, I think I will choose to wear the robes, at least for some time longer.”

“Of course.” Systlin inclined her head. “And I am afraid, of course, that Turia will be judged.”

“Judged?” One man snapped. “Like you judged Kazrak?”

“Yes. Precisely how I judged Kazrak.” Systlin smiled unpleasantly. “There are three great crimes; the murder of an innocent who has done no harm, the rape of another, and enslaving another. The penalty for all three is death.”

Silence. Dead, horrified silence. And then,

“You cannot mean,” another man said, carefully. “That every man who held a slave will be killed.”

“No.” Systlin shook her head. Sighs of relief, but she continued. “Because some slaves, for whatever reason, beg mercy for those who held them. It will be up to any slaves you hold what your fate is. But,” and she grinned again, more horribly. “If a single slave you’ve held and raped chooses death for you, I will put a knife in her hand and hold you down myself for the sentence.”

“What.”

“You cannot mean…”

“Not all…”

“All.” Systlin said, merciless. “Every man in Turia. If a freewoman held male slaves…I’m told it happens…then her life is forfeit as well. I will not abide it. Have no fear; I will establish many courts to see to it. It will take us months to work through the city, but it will be done. And those of you who are guilty, I will hang your bones from the white walls as a warning.”

“You,” Said one man, who had until then been silent, staring angry daggers at her from the front of the crowd. His robes, she noted, were the finest in the room, and edged in purple. “Are mad.”

“Not the first time I’ve been called that.” Systlin said easily. She looked him over, matching up features with descriptions. “Phanius Turmus, I presume?”

“Ubar of Turia.” He confirmed, chin high. “You are defiling my throne, woman.”

“You were.” She shook her head. “But you lost. You’re simply Phanius now, and you’ll be judged with the rest.”

“I think that perhaps I shall contract with the Assassin’s Caste for your head.” He didn’t flinch or break eye contact. “Your head would look well in my vaults, I agree with Kazrak.”

“Oh, please do. I ought to make their acquaintance. It’s been some time since I trained with the assassins of my own world, and tore their master’s throat out with my knife. So yes please, do. It would be an exciting challenge.”

Foicatch sighed resignedly. “Really, love?”

Phanius was giving her a stare of pure and utter horror. “What are you?” He almost whispered. “What terrible hell did you crawl from, to plague us? Have you no respect for those of high caste?”

“My mother would be terribly offended by calling her a ‘terrible hell’.” She made steady eye contact with each person in her horrified and enraptured audience. “The terrible hell is her sister, who taught me to fight. And no. Every caste. From low to high. All will be judged the same. If any have offended in these ways, I will see justice done upon them. No one is exempt.”

“You’ll kill thousands!” One man cried. “Tens of thousands!”

“Oh,” Systlin said, cold as steel in winter. “Hundreds of thousands, I expect.”

“You cannot…”

“Poor choice of words.” Foicatch sighed again. “I could have warned you; there’s no better way to get her to do something than to tell her, earnestly, that she can’t.”

Systlin stood, and let Power rise. Not the terrible cold of Breaking, but her other gift, hot and furious and wild. Fire bloomed around her for a moment, and was gone too quickly to set fire to her clothes. But it had the desired effect. Silence fell. Horrified silence.

“I am not bargaining with you.” She said softly. “I am not suggesting. I am not your old Ubar. I stand here by right of conquest. I breached your walls and killed my way to this throne, and I am going to kill a great deal many more before I am through. The merchants and caste-masters are not ruling Turia any longer; I am.”

She moved a step down, drawing closer to them. “To put this in terms you understand, which I gathered from women you had kidnapped from a world not yours and forced into slavery; you had best get used to this new way, or you will die. I am telling you how things now are. You can flee the city, if you wish, but I will not stop here and I will find you. Be it when I take Ar, or Ko-Ro-Ba, or any other city, I will come. I am going to end slavery on this world, and I fully expect to do it at the point of a sword. I am Ubara Sana of the plains. I rule this city now. These are the great crimes that will be punished, and how they will be punished. This matter is not open for negotiation. If you dislike these words, you are free to take them up with any of the twenty thousand of my soldiers in your city. They’ll be thrilled to discuss them, I am sure.” She descended another step. “Until the courts are established and judging begins, no one is to leave the city. I control the entirety of the plains and other bands of my warriors have seized trade routes. I have the wealth of Turia at my disposal; you will not go hungry. And now, you are free to return to your homes; I have things yet to do tonight. One of you has decided to fight tooth and nail; I’m off to crack him out of his nutshell. Dismissed.”

She swept past, not looking back, and felt their eyes on her back as she went.

[sad-sweet-cowboah]

Tricksters

Summary: On a hot day, you decide to take a dip at a local secluded lake. When Arthur comes to join you, the two of you begin to have an interesting conversation before an untimely interruption.

Warnings: Swearing. nudity, and smut. Ya know, the norm.

Word Count: 7411

A/N: This is the first place prize from my 2k followers giveway! As requested by @lindleyjo​, she wanted a creative way of how reader interacts with a younger Arthur.

Support your local content creators and reblog!

Heat.

A sweltering, heavy blanket of humidity settled upon the land after a powerful thunderstorm raged through the previous night. Everyone within camp had slept uncomfortably, tossing and turning in a desperate attempt to shake the crushing atmosphere. If you weren’t out in the open, you yourself would have stripped naked just to have a few hours of peaceful slumber.

With the morning sun peeking over the horizon, the camp’s sleepy members arose and began with the morning chores and duties. After getting dressed you wandered out into the open, observing your surroundings. Some of the women were already working on chores, scrubbing shirts or washing dishes from the night before with Susan Grimshaw at the helm. You paused once you saw her, knowing full well she’d put you to work the moment she realized you had nothing better to do.

You turned heel in the wet grass, hurrying toward the opposite side of camp in hopes to look busy. Toward the edge of camp were a few bags of feed strewn about, and a perfect way to keep yourself from Susan’s radar. You bent over to pick one up, nearly buckling as its awkward weight shifted upon you. Still, you’d managed to place it over your shoulder.

Just as you began to step forward, you heard someone call your name.

The feed sack blocked your view, though you recognized that voice instantly. Arthur Morgan. A young and otherwise cocky gang member and a favorite among Dutch and Hosea. Shuffling your feet to face him, he appeared in your view quicker than you’d expected.

“You, uh, need help with that?” he asked with a somewhat sheepish tone.

You smiled at him. He was always offering to help you with heftier tasks, even though you’ve told him multiple times you could handle it quite well. As boisterous as he was, he was always polite with you and the other women of the camp. Sometimes it seemed as if he gave you a little more attention, unless it was just your imagination. “I’ve got it, Arthur,” you assured him, shifting yet again as the feed inside began to weigh down uncomfortably. “Thank you.”

“Thought you’d say that,” he responded with a soft chuckle, bending down to grab another. “Thought I’d offer anyway.”

“I know,” you giggled, walking around the edge of camp to where the horses rested. “Truth is, I’m just avoiding being a wash maid today. Too hot for that.”

“So you opted for heavy liftin’,” Arthur remarked, stepping by you to place his bag upon a hay bale. The horses nickered excitedly at their arrival. “Don’t seem like it’d be any cooler.”

“As long as I look busy, then Susan won’t put me to work.” You pointed out, dumping your feed bag alongside his.

Arthur dusted his hands and snickered. “’S'pose that’s fair.”

You straightened up, catching his eye briefly. The summer sun reflected in his bright blue eyes, layering a golden hue amongst the oceanic orbs. He averted his gaze once it lasted a second too long. “Er, need anything else?”

You opened your mouth, only to be interrupted by someone calling Arthur’s name. It was Dutch Van der Linde himself. The two of you turned toward his gruff voice, noting the gang leader standing by his tent, standing casually with a lit cigar resting between his lips. Hosea stood next to him, looking on expectantly.

Arthur turned to look at you again. “Never mind, duty calls. See you later?”

Giving him a short nod, you bid him goodbye while he stalked off to join the two men. They were too far away for you to listen to their conversation properly, yet you caught wind Dutch had some grand scheme planned that required Arthur’s hand. A bank or stage coach robbery perhaps. You considered volunteering yourself to come along, the thought of big money was enough of an incentive to take your mind off the heat.

“Hey! Can I come along?” a new voice tore through your thoughts. High-pitched and gritty with the transition to manhood. You watched as John Marston came galloping up to the three men.

Dutch gave a hearty chuckle and reached out to ruffle John’s mop of hair. “Sorry son, just us three.”

“You’ll come along for the next one,” Hosea promised as John opened his mouth to protest. “It’s a small job, we don’t need an extra bodyguard.”

Arthur’s lips moved, most likely mumbling to himself. Whatever he said however, John’s face turned indignant. His body tensed like a predator about to spring on its prey. Hosea stepped in between the two immediately.

“Easy now,” he said with amusement, although gave Arthur a stern glare. “Don’t tease him, Arthur.”

Arthur only rolled his eyes and folded his arms. Since John had been brought in by Dutch and Hosea a few years ago, he and Arthur have almost always been at odds. Both headstrong in their own ways, they acted more like brothers; even when Arthur adamantly denied it. John was still young and immature, thus he’d stay in camp more often than not. He huffed and stormed off, grumbling to himself while Arthur just watched with a smirk on his face.

The three of them took their leave shortly after, saddling and mounting their horses before galloping away. You watched as they disappeared from view, sighing and turning to face camp once again. It was tempting to jump onto your own horse and follow; a wishful thought.

“Y/N!” Susan’s sharp voice pierced the air. “Get your butt over here and pick up a dish rag!”

You stifled a groan, knowing you were standing idle for just a little too long from your own volition. Before Susan could come over and ream your ass, you headed over and picked up an unused rag to help the others.

After a good hour of washing dishes and mending holes in jeans, you were free. You straightened up, stretching out your aching back and cracking your stiffened hands. Sweat pooled in uncomfortable places, soaking through awkward parts of your garments. Wiping a layer of sweat from your brow, you needed relief.

Stepping into the shade of the tree line, you breathed out a sigh. Though still humid, being away from direct sunlight certainly helped. Getting away also prevented Grimshaw from finding even more work for you to do. You leaned against a trunk and fanned yourself, wishing nothing more than to dip yourself in some cold water right now.

You paused, remembering there was a lake not too far away. You’d ridden by it a handful of times, saw a fisherman once or twice. Perhaps the heat was enough to drive away any unwanted eyes. With a plan in mind, you headed back to get your horse.

The woods provided some relief to your otherwise overheated state. Thick leaves and multiple branches allowed some cover from the sun. As you trotted along a small path, a slight breeze carried through, rustling the dense green shrubbery and provided a cooling sensation to your exposed skin. The lake wasn’t too far now, and you urged your horse into a lope in impatience. Up ahead, the canopy broke away to reveal a sheet of water gently disturbed by another breeze. Glimmering beautifully under the bright sun, the surface appeared inviting. The hard packed soil and bushes soon turned into a sandy beach. Gently pulling your mare to a halt, you dismounted and stepped onto the softly shifting terrain. Your gaze scanned the circumference of the lake, only stopping to find you were alone.

Perfect.

You tied your steed to a nearby tree before eagerly shedding your clothes. You made a home for them on the rocks to dry out the sweat before you padded toward the shore. Gentle waves lapped up toward you, kissing your toes with a near frosty sensation. One foot in front of another with a slow step, you were soon embraced from the waist up. The dramatic temperature difference was almost shocking at first, fine hairs raising along your skin. It only took a moment for your body to adjust, and you sunk in further. Wrapped in the soothing cold, you reached your arms out and began to swim.

A few minutes passed by of you lazily floating through the calm waters, relaxed and uncaring of the rest of the world. You were perfectly content in that moment, free of gritty chores and the judgmental or curious eyes of others. You could spend the entire day out here, as long as no one else would ruin your peace.

Time soon became lost to you amongst the calm surface, though you couldn’t care less. Being out here was much better than drowning in your own sweat back at camp.

A thought crossed your mind. You wondered if Arthur, Dutch, and Hosea returned from their heist, and if it went successfully. Your curiosity almost had you swimming to shore to find out.

Yet with the sun still high and the sky and the air still stifling, you didn’t want to move. You’d find out later anyway.

Amongst the distant sounds of nature, you caught the shrill whinny of your mare. You immediately turned your attention to her, the horse’s head high and ears pricked forward, facing the forest. She nickered into the trees. Something had caught her attention.

Seconds later, you could hear a responding whinny, further away and still out of sight. Your heart lurched and you ducked low, keeping your eyes an inch above the water to watch. With your gun and knife still on shore, you had no way to defend yourself.

Movement in the trees formed itself into a horse and its rider, stepping from the shady canopy into the open. It were as if the Gods heard your thoughts. The beautiful coat shimmering in the sunlight belonged to Boadicea, and Arthur’s prominent face hidden under the brim of his hat. The two mares nickered to each other in greeting.

Relief flooded through you as you watched Arthur look at your horse, then glance left and right in confusion. You had to make yourself known now, lest he thought you were in trouble or worse. He hadn’t spotted your clothes yet. Despite your nudity, it didn’t bother you to be this way in his presence. With how long you’ve been a part of the gang, you’ve been around him in your undergarments multiple times. You were comfortable enough around him to know he wouldn’t attempt anything crass.

Pulling yourself up to just above chest level, you called out, “Arthur!”

His head shot up to the sound of your voice. “Y/N? Whatchoo doin’ out here?”

“Cooling off,” you responded, swimming closer to him. “What about you?”

The closer you got, you began to realize he was splattered in blood. Though the majority of it painted his vest and pants, you noticed patterns streaking across his exposed forearms, neck, and face. It wasn’t an unusual sight to see, knowing how dangerous this lifestyle was.

This tugged at your mind. Had he gotten injured in any way? “Are you hurt?” you ask.

“Er,” his gaze swept across the shore, and finally landed on the rock which your clothes lay upon.  Eyes growing wide, you could see the rosy tint in his cheeks as he looked away. Clearing his throat, he answered, “Blood ain’t mine. Actually, I was gonna come wash up out here, since I can’t exactly go back to town n’ do it… Guess this lake’s already occupied.” He tucked his head down sheepishly.

His answer allowed you to smile in relief. Though you understood his reasoning to come out here, he was one of the few you wouldn’t mind sharing this space with. No reason to force him to go elsewhere. “No it ain’t,” you responded. “There’s plenty of room for the both of us.”

“N-no, you ain’t even decent,” he stammered, biting his lip from underneath the brim of his hat. “I’ll just go –”

“Arthur,” you interjected. “It’s fine, I promise. It’s a big lake, not like we’ll be on top of one another. I don’t care.”

He refused to look at you directly, instead cast his attention across the lake in deep thought. A full moment passed before he sighed and dismounted Boadicea. “Guess I can’t really argue that…” he murmured. “Can you jus’…turn ‘round please?”

You nodded, smiling a little at his modesty. Turning yourself around and swimming further out, you waited until you heard him stepping into the water before facing him again.

He stood in waist deep water, arms held to the front of his body. The somewhat clear water was dark enough for you not to see below his navel. You’d only seen Arthur shirtless a handful of times, and each moment of stolen subtle glances you appreciated more than the last. He was certainly built nicely, his frame decorated with just the right amount of muscle.

“Don’t stare please,” he mumbled.

You abided to his wish, instead swimming a little further out with only your head above the surface. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see him beginning to bathe himself, albeit awkwardly. You had to wonder how often he would have a bath girl do the work for him. Or perhaps it was your presence skewing him? Arthur was usually arrogant and carried himself with confidence, without a care in the world of who thought what of him. It was only in the presence of those close to him did he show a different side, and you were no exception.

After a few moments of silence, the questions from earlier arose in your mind. Maybe it would be less awkward for him if you were to initiate some casual conversation. Shifting to cast a glance his way, you called out. “So how’d the job go?”

He avoided your eyes, keeping his fixated on his forearms, running his hands along to remove the stains. The water soon tinged crimson with blood pooling around him. He hesitated for a moment. “Pretty good, actually. We made out with two thousand dollars.”

Two thousand? That certainly was much more than you were expecting to hear. Out of every heist you’ve done, you’d never made it out with more than a couple hundred. “You must be pretty happy with yourself then.”

His eyes flickered to you for a brief second. “Yeah,” he agreed with a slight chuckle. “Was much more too, only had a short time to gather what we could ‘fore the law came down on us.”

“That’s a shame,” you commented. “Sounds like you needed an extra hand after all.” You remembered that little conversation John had with them.

He turned his full attention to you now, however still avoided looking at your face. “John’s too young n’ headstrong for bigger jobs right now.” He said pointedly.

“I meant me. I was gonna volunteer myself until I saw Dutch deny John.”

Arthur blinked in surprise. “Oh, uh…why didn’t ya anyway?”

You shrugged, leaning back a little to stare at the sky. “I figured he’d say no anyway. And I know you three are perfectly capable without an extra hand.”

He hummed softly in response. There was a moment of silence before he spoke again. “I don’t think he’d say no. I woulda vouched for ya anyway.”

You smiled at his comment, lifting your head to look at him again. “Thanks, but I’m sure John would have been pissed if he heard that.”

He let out a soft chuckle. “Ah, he’s still a kid. He’d get over it.”

“True,” you agreed with a giggle of your own. “Think we would have gotten away with more if I’d come along?”

Arthur gave you a crooked smile. “I think we’d get away with everything they had if you’d come along.”

You couldn’t deny that. Almost every job you’d attended ended in a successful plunder, thus earning praise from everyone in camp. You took pride in your skill even though you didn’t boast it. Dutch and Hosea saw you as one of the most productive members of the gang, of course they would have been happy for you to come along. You reminded yourself to volunteer next time despite what little Johnny Marston thought. “Guess I’ll volunteer next time, since you boys obviously need my help.” You smirked.

Arthur scoffed in response. “Hey now, that was uncalled for.” He laughed, sinking further to almost shoulder height.

You smiled at him, daring to swim a little closer.  “It’s true, ya know. Pretty sure any of those other heists wouldn’t have gone as smooth if I hadn’t been there.” You commented jokingly.

“You sayin’ we ain’t as good?” Arthur asked with a quirked eyebrow, although he couldn’t hide the amusement plain on his face.

“I’m saying that some things need a woman’s touch, even robbing.” You teased, grinning widely at him.

He rolled his eyes, stretching his arms out to propel himself slowly through the water. “Think I changed my mind, with talk like that.”

It was your turn to scoff. You knew he was only fooling with you, though while he was distracted, you took a chance to raise your arm up and splash a bit of water in his direction. Splattering across his face and head, he yelped in surprise and flinched away, raising his arms in defense.

“Damnit, Y/N!” he huffed, wiping his face of the droplets. “The hell was that for?”

You chortled in response, swinging your arms behind you to swim further away. “Don’t be angry, you’re already wet!”

Despite a prick of annoyance shadowing his features, the way his lips curled into a smile told you he certainly wasn’t completely irritated. The furrow in his brow relaxed before he spoke, “You better be careful, next time I won’t be so forgivin’.”

You paused to look at him. “Oh, that’s some big talk, Arthur Morgan!” you exclaimed, changing your direction to swim toward him once again. You stopped just a few feet away, the closest you’ve gotten so far. Shooting him a smirk, you continued, “What would the scary outlaw do to me?”

“Somethin’ not nice,” he answered, the smile never leaving his face. “Don’t think you wanna find out.”

Those words posed a challenge. As childish as this was, you weren’t going to deny yourself a little bit of fun for the time being. The two of you were still shoulder height above the water. With his wide frame and thick torso, he could have easily outmatched you on solid ground.

You launched yourself forward, throwing your hands out to slap them onto his shoulders. With a swift kick to propel your body further, it provided you with enough strength to shove him completely beneath the surface. His eyes widened in surprise and terror before his face was engulfed by the somewhat turbid lake. Immediately you yanked your hands away, spinning around as fast as the weight of the water would allow. Paddling quickly away from him, the sound of splashing and spluttering filling your ears. It would only be a matter of time before he caught up to you.

Hurrying toward the shore, his nearly beastly roar soon carried across the lake. He called out your name, and you didn’t dare to look back. He was growing closer, faster than you could reach the shallows. In a few short seconds, he was on you. Thick arms wrapping around your torso and stopping you in your tracks. You squealed out in surprise, automatically wanting to break free of his embrace. Though your struggle proved useless as he was far too strong.

“Arthur!” you cried out, voice shuddering with laughter. “C’mon, lemme go!”

“Ya pushed me, woman,” he growled in your ear. “Think I’d let ya get away with that?”

You still tried to wriggle from his grasp, only further proving it as a fruitless effort. “Was worth a shot!” you said proudly, smiling widely.

Expecting him to serve the same fate, you shut your eyes and waited for the inevitable cold grip of the water to engulf you completely. His hands grazed across your abdomen, halting at the curves of your waistline. He paused there, prompting your curiosity.

“Arthur?”

A mere second passed and the warmth of him disappeared. Waves shifted around you in the absence of him, and you turned in confusion. He had his back facing you.

“Arthur? What’s wrong?” You inquired.

“Weren’t right for me to do that,” he answered quietly. “‘M sorry.”

You frowned in confusion. Just moments ago the two of you were playing like two kids uncaring of the world. “You didn’t scare me if that’s what you meant.”

“No,” he said flatly. “The way I grabbed ya. You’re naked, weren’t proper. Stupid o’ me…”

That hadn’t even crossed your mind. The awareness had flung out the instant you began your tomfoolery, and even now you didn’t even care. “So what?” You scoff. “Nothing happened.”

“Still ain’t right,” he grumbled, moving closer to the shore. “I shouldn’ta –“

“Arthur,” your tone sharp. “We were playing around. I don’t care if I’m clothed or not, it didn’t bother me.”

He mumbled something you couldn’t hear. There was something else on his mind. In shallower waters, more of his torso was visible, streams of water cascading down his strong back, shining beautifully in the sunlight. Your breath nearly caught at the sight, but the minor distraction hadn’t removed your original intention.

“Arthur!” You called out. “Don’t leave yet!”

He froze in place.

“Talk to me, please. What’s really wrong?”

He hadn’t uttered a single word for a full minute. He breathed in again. “Don’t matter, Y/N. Sorry for bein’ handsy with you, I shoulda known better.”

He was lying. You knew him well enough by now. You sighed heavily and stood up completely, allowing your upper torso exposed to the air. Moving a little closer, you said softly, “look at me.”

You half expected him to be stubborn and walk away. Instead, he slowly turned, his eyes fixed away from your figure. Your heart began to hammer wildly in your chest. It hadn’t been too long since your state had been graced by a man’s presence. You were confident enough to not feel shy about yourself.

Especially not around Arthur.

His eyes slowly raked up your body, finally meeting your patient gaze.

Taking another deep breath, you murmured to him, “Talk to me.”

He swallowed audibly. “It ain’t important –”

“Don’t give me that. Tell me what’s wrong please,” you interjected. “Whatever it is, I won’t be mad.”

He appeared conflicted, chewing on his bottom lip in hesitation and tearing his eyes away. “It’s, uh…” he gritted his teeth and swore to himself. “Damn it, Morgan!” He ran his hand through his damp hair in what seemed to be frustration. “It’s you.” He finally uttered.

“Me?” You repeated in confusion. “What’s wrong with me?”

“No, nothin’ ain’t wrong with you, it’s…” he trailed off, becoming more flustered with each passing second. “I…I like you, Y/N.”

Out of everything in the world, it was a confession you hadn’t expected to hear. Blood roared in your ears as your heart did somersaults beneath your ribs. Arthur Morgan, liking you? Words couldn’t formulate in your mind as everything you wanted to say disappeared just as quickly as they appeared. You wanted to say something, anything, a simple response to accommodate for your lack of reaction.

He must’ve taken your silence negatively. A deep frown appeared on his face and his head hung in defeat. As he began to turn away, your hand shot out and grabbed his wrist. He stopped at an instant, slowly lifting his head to stare into your eyes once again.

His eyes. A beautiful blue-green hue twinkling brilliantly from the sunny reflection of the lake. You observed every feature of his face, from his thick sandy colored hair, down to his chiseled, stubbled jaw. Truly such a stubborn, ruthless beast who would land a bullet between a man’s eyes only to turn around and offer you help, and dance with you on cheerful occasions. Too many days you spent admiring him from afar. Too many nights spent in crowded saloons, picking up some random cowboy to swoon and come back not completely satisfied and wishing someone else would share that hotel bed with you. Too much time wasted attempting to deny your ever growing feelings for this man.

You would never admit it out loud that Arthur Morgan had your heart, long before he even knew it.

Your lips curved into a soft smile. Sliding your hand to capture his, you sensed his hesitation when you entwined his fingers with yours. “I don’t see that as a problem.” You whispered to him.

A slew of emotion flitted through his eyes in a long-lasting moment. His lips parted in attempts to speak, only to hear him release a disjointed breath. “It is,” he said sadly.

“Why?” you pressed.

“Mary.”

Mary. That one name that plagued your dreams for far too long. Arthur had been head over heels for this high society woman who frowned upon his lifestyle. She was polite every time you’d come across her, yet you saw clearly through her façade. How difficult it was to keep your mouth shut every time she peered at you with thinly veiled judgment. “Fuck Mary,” You spat it as if reciting the vilest of curses. He stared at you in surprise. “How long has it been, Arthur? Since she left you?”

“Uh, a few months…” he mumbled.

“A few months,” you repeated. “You hold no obligation over her anymore, Arthur. She’s gone. And I’m here now.”

“I know, I know,” he sighed heavily, dipping his head yet again. “It’s stupid o’ me to even keep thinkin’ ‘bout her. Every time I’ve tried tellin’ ya, I get stuck on her. It’s jus’ hard… I don’t wanna have her on my mind no more.”

The conflict hung heavy in his voice. You couldn’t be angry with him over this; he loved Mary for reasons you could never fathom. She left him to be wed and bound to live the life she dreamed, a decision that wounded Arthur deeper than any gunshot or stab of a knife.

With your free hand, you reached up to caress his jaw, prompting him to look at you. “Then let me help you forget,” you uttered.

He blinked in silence, his eyes never leaving yours. Seconds ticked by as you watched every inner thought of his displayed plain on his face. You were worried he’d refuse, until he gave a small, simple nod.

That was all you needed. Trapping his face gently between your palms, you tilted your head up, pulling yourself closer to lay a tender kiss upon his lips. A brief moment of tension felt soon released when he melted to you, kissing you with equally returned tenderness.

He relaxed completely to your touch. Large hands made their presence upon your hips, so loosely held against your bare skin. You encouraged him by taking one step closer. The heat radiating from his body negated the cool waters surrounding you. He moved to rest his palms upon your lower back, ever so hesitant to further progress. Releasing his face to favor his neck, your arms latched to him to pull your body flush with his.

Arthur’s breath hitched, his grip tightening in reaction. He parted his lips from yours, peering into your eyes. A sweet softness reflected in his, though below the seafoam surface lurked a deeper musing.

“Been wantin’ to do that,” he murmured to you. “Guess I’m too foolish to make myself wait for so long. I’m sorry.”

You shook your head in disagreement. “I don’t think you’re foolish, you’re just too stubborn to realize your own feelings.”

He gave a singular laugh, a short and deep chortle that pulsed against your chest. “I s’pose you’re right, guess I got some catchin’ up to do.”

With a hum of response, you carded your fingers through his hair. “You’ve got all the time in the world with me, Arthur Morgan. And we’re here now, just the two of us.”

A half smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. One hand released your waistline to cup your cheek, his thumb tracing the curve of your lips. Wordlessly he drew you in for a second kiss. Moving his hand to the back of your head, his fingers tangled within your locks.

Despite his large frame, he held a certain tenderness unlike any other man you’d been with. A lack of urgency and force to indulge in a lustful night. Every blissful moment here you wanted to last forever, remaining in this lake and far from any civilization.

The kiss soon deepened, easing your tongue to invade him. He allowed you to, following your lead without a moment of hesitation. His arm encircled your waist completely, pinning you to him without excessive strength. Every subtle movement allowed you to appreciate him more and more, handling you like precious cargo rather than a sack of feed.

Fingertips thickened with callouses traced patterns along your back, a touch so feather soft your skin tingled in his wake. Trailing toward your butt beneath the surface, ghosting ever so slightly across the crest. You hadn’t been surprised by this at all. Sensing a small tinge of hesitation, you offered subtle encouragement with your own touch. Smoothing your palm along his muscular shoulder, trailing your fingers down his arm, pausing to gently grip his wrist.

He pulled his head back to look at you, a look of shame crossing his face and his mouth agape in the beginnings of what you assumed was an apology.

You however just smiled, moving his hand to rest against the curve of your butt. You watched as his eyes widened in surprise, sputtering out incomprehensible noise while his face began to show a hue of fuchsia.

Hushing him gently with a finger to his lips, you rubbed his arm soothingly. He was after all still a man, and why deny those thoughts lurking below his otherwise respectful nature? “Touch where you’d like.” You whispered to him.

An audible gulp emanated from his throat, his gaze sweeping over your face as if searching for any notion of disapproval or repulsion. When finding none, he uttered, “You sure?”

Giving a small nod, your other hand rested against his chest, running a single digit across the ridge of his collarbone. “I trust you.”

Reluctance still hinted in his face as he considered your words. His lips twitched as if to say something, though not a single sound came out. You waited quietly to see what his next move would be.

And then you felt it. The beginnings of a light caress as his palm rubbed your smooth skin. Nails scraped along the surface in a small, experimental squeeze. You giggled softly and smiled even wider, running your own hand down the midline of his chest. Admiring him from afar paled in comparison to right now, appreciating every hardened muscle you once only dreamed of holding.

The soft grip on your head disappeared entirely as the rough skin of his other hand moved slowly down your back and rested at the dip of your waist. His eyes flickered downward for a fraction of a second, taking in the plain sight of your naked breasts before looking back to you. Giving him a small nod, he moved from your waist, trailing his fingertips along the front of your torso. Carefully, he fondled one, his eyes never leaving your face. With slow progression his confidence began to grow, and you moaned encouragingly for him to continue. A delicate massage accompanied by his thumb teasing your nipple, he smiled.

“You feel so soft…” he murmured to you.

You hummed in response, thoroughly enjoying this moment. You weren’t sure how far this would go, though his touch was prompting you to explore further. From his chest down to his abdomen, enjoying every swell and plane decorating his frame, you dipped your hand beneath the surface. He tensed once you reached below his navel, although did not offer any notion of backing away. Your eyes met his, unblinking and waiting.

And so you continued further. The heat of his arousal was a stark contrast to the cool liquid surrounding him. Your fingers traced along the soft skin, observing every inch with growing interest. From the tip to the root, your hand turned to rest your palm on his hardened length. Wrapping your entire hand around it you found him to be blessed with girth.

One pump, and another, as smooth as the water would allow. Arthur’s hold on you loosened as a low moan slid from his lips. A simple sign for you to continue, thus you did. Watching his eyelids flutter and his head tilt back, a small smirk tweaked the corner of your mouth. He was soon malleable in your capable hands, his entire figure relaxing for you.

Leaning in to him, you cupped his neck and pressed your lips to his damp skin, leaving light kisses along the junction of his shoulder. His breathing heightened accompanied by a disjointed sound of surprise and pleasure. He spoke your name in a soft, low groan.

“Yes?” you answered him.

“I –” he paused, his hands returning to your body, running his fingers tantalizingly along your curves. “I wanna have you.”

Those words, the sincerity laced within them threw your heart into an erratic rhythm. Surely this was your imagination, your mind baked from being in the heat and sun for far too long. “Really? Here?” you asked quietly.

He nodded. “Like you said, we’re here now,” He replied with what you’d said to him earlier. “Might as well make the most of it, ‘less you don’t want to.���

The mere thought stoked the already smoldering embers within you, curling into a small fire. You bit your lip, weighing your considerations. Your body yearned for him; the pressure deep in your belly too incessant to ignore. Would it be worth it to wait until the two of you found a hotel to stay in, or an abandoned cabin to avoid any unwanted eyes?

However, the lakeside had been quiet for as long as you both had been out here. As unorthodox as it was, the thought of giving to your primal desires within the arms of nature’s embrace seemed invigorating. Staring deep into his awaiting eyes, you finally murmured, “Yes.”

As soon as the word passed your lips, he drew you in for another kiss. Deep and urgent, his tongue hadn’t hesitated to dance with yours. His touch grew fervent, sweeping across every curve and swell your body had to offer. One hand gravitated to your breasts, toying with each and drawing out a few muffled moans from you, while the other snaked further down. Like your own endeavor, he didn’t have trouble finding his target. Warm pads searched your folds briefly until resting upon that little bundle of nerves, creating small circles amongst your sensitive flesh. In turn, the grip you had on his cock hastened. Short and heavy breaths pierced the air as he pulled back, muttering out a swear.

Arthur’s movements soon became erratic, his fingers dancing feverishly against your nub. It didn’t take long for the fire to erupt into a blazing inferno, coiling stronger and tighter with each passing second. You panted out his name, gripping his shoulder for support as pleasure rolled through your body. Eagerly he moved to your entrance, testing it briefly before sinking two digits in. You weren’t sure if you were truly that wet or if the water aided his entry, but the thought quickly swept from your mind the moment he pumped his fingers in and out. You could have melted then and there if he wasn’t supporting you.

Closing your eyes, your mind soon became too addled to focus. The pressure within your core bubbled and threatened to burst. Your head tilted back and moaned your pleasure to the heavens, the fleeting arrival of your climax exploding through every inch of your body. Nails melded into flesh as he coaxed the final waves from you, your lips gasping out his name.

“Arthur…” you groaned, your heart racing. “My God, you know your way with a woman.”

“That surprise you?” he asked with a proud smirk.

Your prickling curiosity as to how far he went with Mary was not something you wanted to delve further into, yet Arthur was a young and handsome man. You’d witnessed him catch the eye of willful saloon women more than once. His handle on you lacked the clumsy and blunt nature of a virgin. “How about you show me further?” you prompted, your hand still resting against his length. Trailing your fingernails along the underside, you watched as his entire body shuddered.

“Mm, gladly…” he growled to you, moving his hands to grip your thighs. Without hesitation you wrapped your legs around his waist, your arms following suit to his neck. He seemingly had no issue supporting your weight, wading through the water until your back rested against a warm, gritty surface. He’d placed you on a rock, and soon released you to straighten up, peering at you with a gleam in his eye. “Turn ‘round.”

You listened without hesitation, immediately understanding what he wanted. Sinking partly back into the water, you turned away from him and bent over, swaying your hips at him. A growl of satisfaction rumbled from him, his rough hands taking place on your hips. The heat of his arousal pressed against the divide of your ass, rubbing it along your soft skin.

Soon he honed in for your lower lips, prodding your entrance once before pushing his way in. You gasped; the pressure surprising at first. His girth stood true,  expanding your inner walls further than you anticipated. Hips flush with your butt, he pulled back and drove into you, erasing any prior thoughts from your mind. The pressure was soon replaced with pleasure provided by his unrelenting thrusts.

Swearing out loud, your fingers scrambled on the rock to ground yourself. He was not offering any leeway, using you to his advantage. His grip was tight, deep enough to definitely leave bruises. He groaned and growled, whispering how well you were taking him.

Such talk wasn’t foreign to you, yet hearing it from Arthur created a new thrill. You arched your back for him, allowing nature to hear your song. The subtle change of angle brought a greater difference, allowing the tip of his cock to drag along that spot.

You gasped out his name, your eyes rolling as another coil of fire burned with fury within you. It wouldn’t be much longer until he ripped a second climax from you. Still you clung to that rock as if for dear life while he took every inch. His speed and precision were pushing you closer and closer to the edge with each passing second.

“Shit,” he grunted, voice wavering from his movement. His fingers made their presence known between your legs, rubbing you with vigor. “C’mon, girl,” he coaxed in that lovely baritone voice. “Give it to me.”

Oh Lord, how could you not give to him? That last command was all you needed to bend to his whim. Much more explosive than the first, your legs trembled and your back arched even more as it overtook every part of your body. Every being within the immediate area knew his name, you calling it out like a prayer.

With a noise of satisfaction he gripped your hips again, driving himself even faster, milking your orgasm of every last drop. A string of expletives fell from your mouth. “Arthur – fuck!” you huffed, attempting to halt the trembling overtaking your muscles. You stiffened against the rock, your skin catching somewhat uncomfortably though you didn’t care at that moment. Your eyes rolled from the sky to the trees to the shore, though focusing on nothing.

Until something caught your eye. Something along the sandy terrain that wasn’t there before. You blinked, ripping yourself back to clarity. Searching for it again, your gaze landed on it directly. A person standing just yards away, fixated on the two of you. It only took half a second to realize it was John Marston.

Your heart dropped into your stomach. Where the hell did he come from? “Arthur –” you grunted, mustering up as much breath as you could despite him pounding into you. “Arthur, stop!”

He halted immediately. “Wh-what’s wrong?” he breathlessly asked.

“Someone’s watching.” You hissed, your head twitching toward the shore.

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see his face twist in confusion. He followed your line of sight and the bewilderment was quickly swept away with surprise. “Marston?” he pulled out of you immediately. “What the hell –”

You hid yourself better behind the rock. Turning your head, you looked just in time to see a conniving grin spread across John’s face. He turned and grabbed a pile of clothes – Arthur’s – off the ground. “Payback, Morgan!”

As the teen darted towards the trees, Arthur’s growl of anger sounded over you, followed by the splashing of water. You watched as Arthur stormed toward the shore, attempting to go as fast as he could. “Get back here, damnit!” he roared, finally reaching solid ground. Butt naked and his wet skin shining in the sun, he briefly stopped to yank his boots on before sprinting after John, who had disappeared amongst the shrubs already.

Arthur soon also disappeared into the woods, his shouts soon becoming muffled by the thick canopy above. John’s laughter grew further away. You waited, listening to their voices growing more distant. You pondered whether or not to try and help, but two naked people running through the woods certainly wouldn’t remedy the situation, and getting dressed would just waste time.

John hadn’t touched your clothes, only Arthur’s. Perhaps the young teenager was putting revenge over whatever Arthur said to him earlier. Typical sibling behavior as it were, you thought with a small smirk to yourself.

A few more minutes ticked by while you were wrapped in silence. You hadn’t heard either of them, and wondered how far John got, or if Arthur managed to catch up to him. Your unasked question was answered when the rustling of leaves and branches caught your attention. The sharp crunch of boots snapping twigs soon revealed Arthur, disgruntled and still very nude, though his body was peppered with forest debris.

You had to admit, as good as he looked, the sight of his defeated face and in nothing but his boots was quite amusing.

“What’re you smilin’ at?” He grumbled as he made his way to the water, kicking his boots off with unneeded force.

You started to giggle, standing straight to gesture to him as a whole. “Never thought I’d see Arthur Morgan running after a kid, stark naked!”

The scowl he gave you was heated, though didn’t faze your ever growing laughter. “Yeah well, don’t get used to it.” He huffed, breaking the surface to slide back in.

“Couldn’t catch him huh?” You chuckled.

He sighed heavily. “Lil’ shit got to the road. I had to stop chasin’ him or else give an unwanted show to some passin’ stagecoaches.”

That only prompted a harder laugh. “What, I’m sure someone aboard them would’ve appreciated it!”

With a scoff, Arthur sank further into the water, attempting to wash the debris from his body. “Now I’m stuck here without clothes. How am I gonna get back to camp without people seein’ me like this?”

The mere thought of it brought even more amusement to you. Arthur trying to sneak into camp, probably holding his hat over himself in attempts to cling to a shred of his dignity. No one in camp would let him live that down.

“Well, John didn’t steal my clothes,” you pointed out, gesturing toward the rock where your garments still lay out. “I can run back and grab yours, if you want.”

“Like I got a choice,” he mumbled dejectedly. “Jus’ hurry, will ya?”

“Sure,” you say, making your way to land and stepping out into the hot air once again. “Can’t let anyone see big bad Arthur Morgan stuck out here in his natural state!” you cackled.

[harrylilies]

The Royal Series | Pt. IV

The Royal Series Masterlist

"Your Highness," One helper tipped his head at you before, discreetly, glancing at Harry who was in awe by the surroundings.

"I'm taking Noir on a walk, can you please get her ready for me, Albert?” You asked with a smile.

"Of course, your Highness. I'll get her ready this instant." "And Albert,” you tilted your head, “Don't tell Granny about this unless she asks." You said, watching as he glanced at yours and Harry's intertwined fingers for a split second.

"Of course, your Highness." By nodding at him, he was off to get the white horse ready.

"Are you sure this is okay?" Harry asked, looking down at you.

You looked up at him and a smile instantly was drawn on your face, "I'm not."

He chuckled, shaking his head at you. "Your grandmother hates me, doesn't she? The Queen hates me?"

You sighed, stepping closer and facing him, letting his hand fall from yours as you place your hands on his chest. "She doesn't know you to hate you. She just had," you paused, mind rushing to the plans your grandmother had for you that were the reason behind the tension in the relationship between the both of you, growing uneasy to tell Harry just yet about the Prince she was persistent for you to marry. It was too early to let it slip like that. "She had some plans and dreams for me. But she'll come along when it's the right time." 

"You know I don't want to be the reason to start issues with your family, right? I mean, it doesn't take a rocket scientist to know that I'm not the person your family wanted you to be associated with."

He was gentle. The emerald green colour that you loved so much was beautifully – almost – painted in his eyes that pooled with care and genuineness.

But despite that, the smile on your lips faltered a little. "Are you having second thoughts?"

Instantly, Harry replied. "No," he shook his head, "Told you I'm not scared, didn't I?"

You hummed, waiting impatiently as he leaned down, pressing lips on to yours in a soft kiss that had your insides fluttering.

"Your Hi-Oh," you pulled away, looking at Albert who blushed, diverting his eyes to the ground. "I'm sorry, your highness."

Yours and Harry's cheeks were tinted red as you stepped beside him instead, a small bashful smile on your faces. "It's okay, Albert."

"Noir is ready, your highness."

You grinned excitedly, holding Harry's hand and dragging him behind you inside the stable, giving a "Thank you!" over your shoulder. "Noir is the gentlest horse ever, you'll love her!"

"I haven't ridden a horse since I was so young." Harry chuckled, letting you drag him behind.

"Don't worry, she's friendly when I'm around."

You led him towards a place where you kept the costumes and other safety equipment. "Here," you handed him a brown helmet. "I'm sure there are boots your size."

After helping Harry with the equipment and wearing your own, the both of you walked out of the other end of the stable where you found one of grooms standing beside Noir.

"Good morning, Ken."

"Good morning, your Highness." He smiled, tipping his head.

"This is Harry." You smiled, watching as they greeted each other with a polite nod and a “hello.” Turning to look at Harry, he almost melted at the smile of excitement adorned on your face, "Do you need help getting on?"

Despite looking at the white horse you had talked to him for hours on end, taking it not only its beauty, but size, Harry shook his head.

Watching you gracefully get on the beautiful white horse's back, his hands seemed to grow clammy as you held the reins.

Almost as if he remembered his mother, Anne, taking him and his sister, Gemma, horse riding when they were younger, Harry was thankful that he remembered how to simply get on a horse, though not as graceful as the Princess before him.

He got on Noir's back who fidgeted in her place, only calming when you stroked her hair in assurance, "Easy now."

Harry was seated behind you, his chest to your back which was enough to have you feeling flustered and blushing but nevertheless, you slowly began riding your horse down the greenery. "And this, is Noir."

Harry smiled to himself, his hand stroking the white horse softly. "She's beautiful. Has she been yours for long?"

"Ever since I was 4. She was only a filly of one year when Grandpapa got her for me. This babe is 17 years old." You proudly stated, patting her head.

Amused, Harry let out a small whistle. "She's old."

Gasping feigned shock, you moved one hand to gently swat Harry’s knee, “Where are your manners?” Harry laughed, wrapping one arm around your waist.

“My apologies, dearest Noir.” He said dramatically, making sure his accent sounded thicker.

“Grandpapa has one that’s 23 years old." You giggled, glancing behind your shoulder at him.

"So, the entire family is into horses? I mean, I have seen it in the news of some of your family horse-riding but are they really into it?" Harry asked.

You nodded, "Pretty much. Will, Har, and I were trained when we were only 3. Although we don't ride horses now except for friendly polo matches but Noir here, is someone I frequently take a walk with. Has a special place in my heart." You smiled before giving him a shake of your head, "Enough about me, what's something you used to do back home in Cheshire? It's quiet there, isn't it?"

"It is. Quite peaceful. I actually used to work in a bakery." He sounded so happy about it, almost as if he was reminiscing. Deciding against telling him that you've been a fan for long and knew about the fact, you let him continue. "Barbara, who still works there, would always just pinch my bum. She's the sweetest old, child-at-heart, woman you can ever meet."

You laughed, "You know quite the cheeky people, huh? Even in your shows, your fans can be quite cheeky."

Harry laughed, "Facts,” he nodded as he wrapped his arms around your waist, “Think I can be, too.”

“Oh, I know alright.”

---

"I think-I think this one goes here," you attempted to put the piece of puzzle in your hand in one of the empty spaces as you sat cross legged on Harry's floor, the puzzle on the table in front of you, with Harry sitting right opposite, attempting to complete the picture with you. "Or not."

"I think we should've seen the picture, love." He chuckled, looking at the image you had created that was yet to be comprehendible.

"Where's the fun in that?" You shrugged, "There! We're done with the sky."

"I think it's a tree house, I'm not sure." Harry tilted his head, looking at what you both had finished so far. "Me, too," you nodded, "Like, that's the lad-" You were interrupted by Harry's doorbell, making you look up and towards it.

"I ordered Chinese while you were in the loo, hope that's okay." Harry smiled, standing up.

You tried to hide your shock – and excitement – by nodding, watching as he took his wallet and walked towards the door.

The sound of Harry's socks-clad feet against the floor made you straighten up and clear your throat, attempting to act natural, smiling slightly and looking at him.

"There we go," Harry smiled, putting the bag beside the puzzle you had been trying to complete for the past 40 minutes. He took out two boxes, unaware of your confused but curious face, your eyes traveling between the square boxes. "Chopsticks or fork?"

You didn't even know what was inside but since you knew how to use chopsticks, you answered the former which Harry handed you. He took his box closer to him, opening it, as if he was a natural and so used to it. You, on the other hand, remained wary and in place, eyes only set on the box that was supposedly yours.

As he was about to put the noodles in his mouth, Harry's eyes landed on you, closing his mouth and setting his chopsticks in the box when he noticed your confused face and your untouched box. "Do you not like Chinese, love?"

You hummed, your head snapping towards him. "Wh-what?"

He smiled, seemingly absorbing what his mind was telling him, "I asked, do you not like Chinese?"

You looked bashful; cheeks turning to a tint pink as you put a locket of hair behind your ear. "Well..."

"Y/N?" Harry's tone changed, leaning his head closer, "Have you-Have you never had Chinese?"

At this, it seemed like your entire face was pink. You let out a small groan, covering your face with your hands. "This is so embarrassing."

Harry chuckled in surprise before crawling towards you, "No, no," he took a hold of your wrists, prying them from your face. "Come on, look at me, please."

You let out a soft giggle, looking up at him. "Fine. I've never had-never had whatever that is. They don't allow things like that. Just McDonald’s if it’s a good day."

"So you've never had Chinese takeaway?"

"I just said that, stop making me repeat it." You groaned, looking down.

Harry laughed, wrapping his arm around your and bringing you closer to his chest, hugging you. "Awwwe, Y/N,"

"You're so annoying." You laughed, swatting his chest.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I promise I think it's cute." He assured you, leaning back a little to have you look at him. "It's okay, means you get to try something for the first time with me. So what do you say? Want to give Chinese takeaway a chance?"

You nodded eagerly, looking back at the box and bringing it closer to you, "What's inside?" You looked at him right before opening it.

"Noo-"

"Hush, let me get surprised!" You grinned, opening the box, "Ooo, noodles." Harry chuckled, leaning on his palms and staring at you in amusement. "Is that- Oh, is that chicken?"

"You had sweet and sour chicken on our third date so I figured you'd like it." Harry answered casually, oblivious to the butterflies in your stomach at the fact that he remembered that tiny detail.

"Alright," you smiled, taking a hold of your chopsticks. "Let's do this." You took a hold of some noodles, glancing at Harry before you eat. "I'm so nervous."

Harry grinned, sitting straight and rubbing his hand on your back. "Come on, love. Give it a try." You nodded, putting the noodles in your mouth and slowly chewing so you could get every taste just right. "Well?"

Your eyebrows were raised as you chewed before swallowing, "Oh my God," You quickly dug in for another, making sure to try the chicken.

Harry grinned, wrapping both arms around your waist, "Like it?"

"Love it! What restaurant is that?”

---

You adjusted your brother's, Har's, polo collar as you sat in the car alongside him. "Guess what I had today."

"Hm?"

"Guess what I had today." You repeated impatiently, tugging on your simple and plain navy-blue blouse.

"What?"

"Chinese takeaway." You grinned, nodding as he laughed.

"And how was it?" He raised an eyebrow.

"It tasted heavenly! Have you tried it?"

He nodded, "The good ol' rebellion days."

You frowned, "Hey! Why didn't you bring me some?"

He laughed, raising his hands up defensively, "I'm sorry. I'm a fool. Didn’t want them having my neck for staining sweet little Princess Y/N by getting her fast-food that doesn’t go with her diet."

"That you are actually." You smiled, nodding.

"Wait," Your brother furrowed his eyebrows, leaning back the window, "How did you try it?"

"Uh," Your mouth hung open and your hand reached to scratch your temple. "You know, I was out and about this morning."

He hummed slowly, crossing his arms across his chest. "So instead of being saucy and cheeky with your boyfriend, you try Chinese takeaway?"

"One, he's not-not really my boyfriend and two, you want me to get saucy and cheeky with someone?"

"God, no, Y/N," He cringed, his face twisting in disgust. "Let's just, change topics."

You snickered, looking out the window to see your father's home, Clarence House. "We're here." You announce quietly.

Walking inside, you meet up with your oldest brother who instantly greets you with a kiss on the cheek. "Where's Pa?" You ask.

"He-"

"There you are!" William was interrupted by your father's excited and cheerful voice, making the three of you look towards him and Camilla walking towards you.

You grin, letting your father embrace you. "You look lovely, darling."

"Thank you, Pa." You rub his back for a second before pulling away, watching as he moved to greet Will. Camilla instantly opened her arms at you, making you smile as you let her pull you into a hug, feeling her kiss your cheek.

"Shall we get to dinner? Made your favourite, darling," Your father said, holding out his arm for you to link, "Shepherd's pie."

"This is why I love you." You joked, leaning your head on his shoulder for a second as you giggled.

"Only cares about food." William joked as you all walked towards the dining room. "You're my least favourite sibling." You joked, not looking at him.

"This is no way to talk to your older brother, Tiny." William teased you as the rest laughed at your banter.

"The only brother I have is my dearest Har here. I don't know you."

"Y-"

"For the love of God, you two!" Prince Charles laughed, putting his hand on top of yours.

As you took your seats on the table and began eating, it was natural for the family to joke over the smallest thing in the day – that, until one name was mentioned.

"Charles, when's Fred coming tomorrow?" Camilla asked, oblivious to what she started.

Your hand stopped midway, all heads turning to look at you except for Camilla who looked at your father. You let down your fork, looking up to look at Camilla. "If I may ask, who's Fred?"

"You know, Prince Fred." She said before taking a bite of her food.

You looked at your father who sighed and laced his fingers together on the table, avoiding eye contact. "I wasn't aware of your friendship with Prince Fred, Pa."

The tension in the air was thick and enough to have your brothers quietly let down their utensils and look at your father, waiting for an explanation.

"Darling, your grandmother especially requested this dinner with the young man."

"My grandmother requested a lot of things, Pa," You chuckled half-heartedly, "Like marrying him."

"Y/N, I-"

"You told me I can control my own life," you started, shaking your head in disbelief. "What was that then, huh? Were you getting my hopes up for nothing?"

"Of course not, Y/N! Listen, Y/N, it's-" he sighed, closing his eyes momentarily before looking at you, "It's complicated."

"Complicated?" You asked in disbelief, furrowing your eyebrows, "It's my life!" You laughed bitterly in shock.

"You have to understand that it's not easy to change your grandmother's mind and Fred's family is entirely depending on the marriage. We gave them a word years ago, Y/N." He spoke softly, something that contrasted what you felt, “This is politics, darling, and politics is messy.”

You slumped in your seat in disbelief, looking down at your lap for a second.

"I think we should all calm down a little." Your brother, Har suggested gently, glancing between your father to you.

You looked up after taking a breath, tilting your head to look at your father. With a calm and collected voice, you spoke, "I'm not marrying anyone I'm not in love with and no one is changing my goddamn mind." With that, you stood up, your chair screeching as you pushed it back, eyes set on your father, “It’s your word against mine.” And with that, you stormed out of the room, Har instantly standing and jogging after you.

William sighed, rubbing his face with his hands before looking at his father who rested his hand on his temple in distress. "This is unfair to her, and you know it.”

“Your grandmother believes this will strengthen the ties between our family Fred’s! It was agreed on ever since your sister was a child.”

“Well she’s not anymore, is she?” William replied, tossing his napkin on the table before standing up and walking away.