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vaya-writes · 4 months

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The Wyvern's Bride - Epilogue

When Adalyn gets sacrificed to the local wyvern, she’s a little annoyed and a lot terrified. Upon meeting the wyvern, she discovers that he’s not particularly interested in eating people, and mostly wants to be left alone. In a plot to save himself from the responsibilities his family keep pushing on him, Slate names Adalyn as his human Envoy, and tasks her with finding him a wife.

2300 words. Cis female human x Cis male wyvern (slow burn, arranged marriage, eventual smut). firefly-graphics did the divider.

Masterlist - Previous

Thank you for your patience. It's only been (checks notes) almost nine months. If it's not fresh in mind, I wouldn't force yourself to reread. The style of this chapter is slightly different, doesn't require much coherency with the rest. Anyway, thank you so much for sticking with me this long, and I hope you enjoy the final installment of The Wyvern's Bride. No content warnings for this chapter. Unless PDA makes you uncomfortable xo

There are memories tucked away in each corner of The Wyvern’s Flock. The façade may have changed, but Adalyn can still see herself in the foundations of the building. She still knows the number of steps from the entrance hall to the doorways. The bakery where she’d received customers has been rearranged, a taproom in its place, but the kitchen remains, equipped with the oven her father had modified. She can see it, past the counter where Grace greets them and takes their orders.

Slate holds Adalyn’s hand when they enter what had once been her dining room. It’s still a dining room, part of her is glad to see. The fireplace still burns, and there’s a new clock over the mantle. But smaller tables and benches fill the area. Where once walls had hung bare, they’re now decorated with paintings and tapestries. Adalyn is taken aback by how much colour they bring to the establishment.

There’s a pause in conversation when they enter the room. It doesn’t quite fall silent, but people still stare as they sit by the window. Adalyn goes as far as to put her back to the room, to better blot out the distracting eyes. She’s not here to mind the gossip. Only to have lunch and spend time with her husband.

Word that a wyvern had settled in the valley had spread like wildfire, and people had come from far and wide, just for a chance to see him. It had started with the locals. People trying to sell their livestock. Craftsmen offering skills. The young and unmarried asking after serving positions.

Then word had spread further. Merchants had visited, scrabbling at the chance to trade from Slate’s hoard. Niche craftsfolk had come next. There had been sculptors (mostly turned away), glass makers (temporarily contracted), painters (generously commissioned). Then the jewel smiths, the weavers, alchemists, scribes and tinkerers, until Slate was referring them elsewhere, interested in single purchases and commissions, but not yet ready to hire every person with a trade who came to his door.

With all the skill and money coming to and from the valley, it’s no surprise when the area goes through an economic boom. The area flourishes. The trade festival becomes renowned. Northpoint and Tuscany both double in size as new folk migrate to the region.

The Wyvern’s Flock reflects this easily. The seats are full and the atmosphere is lively. Grace and Gwen have nearly finished paying off Adalyn, years ahead of schedule. As far as Adalyn is aware, the ladies have no regrets. Moving away from their families had been a boon to them both. Grace gets to run her own business, and Gwen gets to run her own kitchen. There’d been obstacles (refurnishing, family drama, local pushback), but things have settled enough that the women now run their business together without raising too many brows.

People stare at Adalyn though. Or perhaps Slate. He’s in his demi form, boldly grasping Adalyn’s hand over the table, sharpened teeth glinting as he talks. She used to shy from the attention. Feel judged by the stares; grow defensive at the scrutiny.

Adalyn squeezes his hand.

Slate pulls back to retrieve some papers from his bag. He moves his chair around the table, so they can pour over the blueprints side by side. She doesn’t flinch when his hand comes to rest on her thigh, though her cheeks do colour with blush. The gesture is under the table, hidden from public eye, and they are married. There’s nothing inherently wrong with the touch.

It still thrills her. A smile plays at her lips.

They chatter about their latest project. Adalyn’s first draft of the stable, drawn almost a year ago, had been cleaned up and heavily referenced in the newer blueprint. It always fills her with warmth, when Slate takes her ideas on board.

The project can’t be put off any longer. With the workers streaming in, they’ll need a permanent stable. A safe way to deal with the offers for work and commerce. Currently mail is left at Fleecehold for Adalyn.

The path through the Spires is steep and crumbling; twisting and incredibly narrow in places. Adalyn can’t help but admire those persistent and skilled enough to make it to the castle entrance.

Most don’t. The path is dangerous. People are attempting to navigate it with alarming regularity. It’s gotten to the point where The Wyvern’s Flock receives a stream of complaints about lost packages, twisted ankles, and near falls. She knows it’s beginning to frustrate Grace and Gwen, despite their assurances otherwise.

It only reinforces the need for a stable. One at the bottom for travellers to stow their horses and swap them out with mules. And one at the top for the animals that complete the journey. They’re considering hiring a guide too.

Because the couriers don’t stop coming. The work applications and correspondences don’t slow. Slate had built himself a castle. It needs staff to maintain it. And there is no shortage of offers.

Adalyn strokes the back of Slate’s hand with her thumb.

He squeezes her leg back, automatic, before stopping suddenly. He gives a rueful wince. “Was I getting off topic?”

She smiles. “No.”

“But I was rambling.”

Adalyn rolls her eyes. “I don’t mind. You know this.”

His cheeks tinge grey with blush, before he presses a kiss to the back of her free hand. “I’m sorry, I’ve spoken about nothing but work.”

She glances pointedly at the blueprints. “That was the plan.”

Slate shares a soft look with Adalyn, his eyes sparkling. “I love you.”

“Yes. I know.”

Slate straightens. Places his hand over his chest in mock indignance.

Adalyn relents, grinning again. “And I love you too.”

Slate puts away the blueprints. “We can revisit this again when the materials are ready. Will you tell me about your morning?”

Adalyn had worried that she’d be left with little to do when she sold her bakery. That the kitchen in the Spires would only keep her occupied for so long. That she’d finish reading Slate’s collection of books, and grow bored. She’d been wrong.

In the days passed she’s practically become Slate’s manager. And that’s just regarding how he handles construction. Half of her job is keeping Slate on task. Reminding him to finish buildings before starting new ones. Helping him prioritise. Making a hard copy of his mental to do list.

It takes patience and understanding. Slate tends to hop between projects on whim. At first she can’t fathom why he’ll be lengthening the servant’s quarters one morning, and then building a hunter’s lodge in the East Forest by the afternoon.

Sometimes he needs it. Needs that project rotation, to prevent him from falling to tedium. Other times he jumps tasks so he won’t forget his new ideas. It’s her job to learn the difference. To gently coach Slate back on track, to take note of his ideas so he can come back to them later. He seems grateful for the assistance. And she appreciates being deferred to. Doesn’t mind the extra work.

Adalyn’s tower had been left unfinished. A side project Slate returns to from time to time, in between other buildings. A servant’s wing had been higher priority. Their staff require a dormitory, a kitchen, a dining area, easy access to running water and a path to the mainway. Slate adds to the quarter every month or so, as more staff are recruited.

When she’s not helping Slate, Adalyn deals with administrative errands. Sorts the mail. Handles the budget. Manages staff. Somebody has to draft contracts and organise pay and give the hapless craftfolk wandering their halls some semblance of an orientation. Scatterbrained as he is, Slate tends to hire people first and ask questions later.

They’d first hired a goatherder, one who was willing to double as a poulterer. Adalyn didn’t want to head to Fleecehold every time she needed supplies, and having her own source of eggs, milk, and cheese (and somebody to mind the animals) is one of the first luxuries she put Slate onto.

While construction was still underway, Slate had started hiring crafters directly. Many he would source from the valley – several professionals, and the occasional apprentice. Others he sent away for. Until there’re a modest collection of people living part time in the Spires, commissioned to create and build at Slate’s whim before the next year passes. A smith busy with hinges, nails, and other iron fittings. Woodworkers and carvers to furnish the place. Niche workers from afar for the more lavish fixtures.

Then Slate hires artists.

Decorations are a must. If not for his rich tastes, then to help tell the many corridors and caverns apart. People to spin tapestries, depicting Slate’s family history. Tanners, to produce leather and fine furs from Slate’s hunting, working in tandem with an upholsterer to ensure that seats and lounges are adequately cushioned. Weavers, to create an ample source of bedding for the servant’s quarter, and spinners, to make and provide thread and yarn for aforementioned weavers and fibre artists. Until Adalyn is dizzy with the sheer number of craftsfolks wandering their halls.

Some of the art comes from further abroad. A handful of paintings and tapestries are commissioned. Slate hardly has the need for stonemasons and sculptors, but he still hires a few. He decorates the halls in limestone reliefs. The scales and wings of his family are repeated motifs. There are also hints at domesticity here and there. Designs featuring the valley; carved sheep in odd places, and crops and foods in others. Patterns peaking from a wall in the kitchen, or near the garden doors.

Mostly they’d hired serving staff. As Slate’s castle grows, so does the housework. There is too much floor space, too many oil lamps and braziers that require maintenance. Adalyn has enough on her plate without handling the laundry or the sweeping and polishing.

She’s still the only person allowed to wander the Tower. Slate had deemed his horde too valuable; hadn’t wanted anyone else handling their possessions. Adalyn figures he just doesn't want anyone fussing.

Next they’ll have to hire a stable hand. And look for a guide, to take people up and down the Spires. But those tasks can wait.

Grace arrives with their food. Cheese toast sprinkled with salt and rosemary for Adalyn – who makes a note to try cooking it at home. And a haunch of meat, dripping and rare, just the way Slate likes it. There’s wine too; the ladies had a trade deal with Ivar’s brewery, and Adalyn’s visits to The Wyvern’s Flock are a rare chance for her to indulge in his reputed winterberry wine.

Adalyn digs into her meal while her friend lingers, catching her up on the latest happenings. Adalyn doesn’t get to be social very often, and she’s grown to appreciate the comradery and tentative friendship that the Grace and Gwen have offered her.

They chat about Lindel. The woman had kept in touch with Adalyn, writing regularly. She still lives with her family, farming and spinning with the rest of the women in her village. Her life hadn’t changed much in the last year, but being the semi-final contender to marry Slate had bought her some respect amongst the others in her village. Even if she keeps the details of the trials to herself.

Errah comes up too. She’s still a bit of a recluse, shepherding in one of the smaller settlements. Neither does she write, though Adalyn suspects that has more to do with her ability, rather than her desire.

One of Slate’s cousins had been checking in on her, and the occasional sight of the silvery wyvern has been a fierce topic of gossip. Adalyn listens avidly. Lune hadn’t bothered visiting the Spires. It’s apparently poor etiquette for one wyvern to visit another’s territory and not declare themselves, but Slate doesn’t mind.

Adalyn decides to visit Errah. If Lune is attempting to court her, then she’d probably appreciate the hard earned information Adalyn could share about that particular experience.

Gwen wanders over, and conversation turns towards business. Repayments on the building. Mail collection. Food orders.

The sun sets and the stars wheel gently overhead by the time Slate and Adalyn leave. They walk the settlement for a while, and Adalyn is struck with the fond memory of when she’d given Slate his first tour of the area.

The night grows cold and Adalyn shivers.

Slate wraps his arm around her shoulders and steers her towards the courtyard. He transforms, without a care for who sees him. Adalyn can’t help but smile again, reminded vividly of the first time Slate had landed here in this form. The power he’d given her at his entrance.

What’s with that look?

Adalyn shakes her head. “I’m just feeling nostalgic.”

She brushes her fingers against his scaled snout. Smiles up at him, before leaning in and kissing him on the cheek.

He rumbles; a sound of contentment.

“I had a nice time tonight. Thank you.”

He doesn’t reply, nuzzling his face against her shoulder instead. His tongue flicks out across her neck, playful and affectionate. Adalyn yelps, before dissolving into laughter at the ticklish sensation.

Slate lowers his head further. Nudges her side, more forcefully.

Climb on already. I want to take you home.

She nearly flushes at his directness. Feigns shock with a hand over her mouth. “So forward, Slate?”

His huff sends a breath of hot air at her face, but he doesn’t otherwise reply. He’s familiar with the joke. It’s not the first time she’s made it.

Adalyn kisses him again before climbing up. Jests aside, she looks forward to getting back to the Tower. To whatever Slate might have in mind for the evening.

Once more, the shadow of a wyvern passes over Clearwater Valley.

#holy shit #im actually kind of emotional posting this #its finally done #woah #anyway #vaya writes #wyverns #dragons #monster romance #also i got so sick of the word smile while editing this

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itbmojojoejo · 3 months

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Fractured Moonlight / Pt 3 / Finan x OFC

Pairing: Vamp!Finan x Vamp!OFC

Summary: A prince forced to relinquish his title so that he may have a home, a princess begrudgingly doing her duty to ensure her lands survival, a king trying his best to keep their world from unravelling as war begins and a brush with death that reveals a secret threatening to destroy it all.

Warnings: MDNI18+ NSFW. Descriptions of injury detail, death, violence, blood, alcohol, and arranged marriage.

Wordcount: 5.5k | Part 1 | Other works.

Authors Note: Another huge thank you to lovely @bhxrdy 💜 will I ever learn good punctuation? Maybe, maybe not lmao.

Pale yellow candlelight flickered casting shadows along the stone floor, a gentle breeze flowing through the open window and smoothing over Marlena’s skin. A light huff was forced from her lungs as Adalyn harshly tightened the laces of the corseted gown, threatening to stop her breathing altogether.

“Almost done princess,” Adalyn’s sweet singsong voice soothed, securing the final knot before coming to stand in front of Marlena and admiring her work, “It truly is lovely.”

“You don’t think it foolish of me to be wearing my aunt’s dresses?” The princess’s fingers fiddled with the delicate gold chains that strung iridescent pearls across her chest and shoulders, contrasting against the blood-red silk.

She had wondered if dressing in the late queen’s clothes would somehow tie her to the same fate; destined to slip into a madness she could feel snapping at her heels, to be hidden away from the world until the sickness claimed her entirely.

“They’re going to waste locked away in that tower, she likely would have gifted some to you herself anyway.”

Marlena hummed, taking a swig from her cup and quickly scrunching her nose at the bitter bergamot laced blood washing over her taste buds, quietly cursing Osferth’s suggestion that it would help calm her before the celebratory ball.

“I hope I’m not intruding,” Hal called into the room carrying a slim dark wooden box, kicking the door closed behind him.

Adalyn gave a small curtsy before attempting to exit but was stopped very quickly in her tracks.

“No, don't leave Adalyn, I will require your assistance. I’m not sure how to put this on her without damaging it,” He chuckled nervously, tapping Marlena’s hand for her to hold the box.

Opening the lid, he revealed glistening rubies encrusted into a thin gold band, with pearls hanging from it similar to her dress; it was Isobel’s diadem.

“Where did you get that?” Marlena stared at her brother in disbelief.

“The old man. He knows you’re angry at him so he sent me,” Hal smiled, lifting it onto her head as Adalyn held the chains away until it was in place.

“I’m not angry at him. I’m angry at all of it,” She muttered, admiring the band sitting along her brow.

“Look at that! The stones match your dress, and the gift Wihtgar paraded around Father's office earlier,” He ignored her comment, quickly lifting the hem of her skirt to the ankle, “Clever move avoiding a heel. He’s shorter than I remembered.”

“A gift?”

“Try to look happy when he gives it to you?” He pleaded softly, “I won’t be here to protect you from his sour mood if you upset him.”

Her brother was due to travel out with Aelfric and their forces to start readying their defences. He was always a welcomed whirlwind of playful humour, able to handle a serious conversation if needed, and a recent source of comfort she will miss.

“I promise to be on my best behaviour tonight on the condition you answer some questions for Osferth.”

“Fine, but I can’t guarantee I’ll have answers,” Easily giving in to his younger sister’s wish, he hooked her arm around his, “Well come on, let’s get this over with.”

In the grand ballroom located on the ground level of the keep, Marlena stood out amidst a sea of blue and indigo, alongside her betrothed who had settled on a bold yellow tunic heavily embroidered with gold thread.

Sitting beside King Helier, Aelfric and Hal at the top table overlooking the guests, she’d tried her best to wear a sincere smile as Wihtgar presented her with a ring, a large ruby accented with delicate emeralds. He’d insisted she wore it right away, the metal chunky and cold against her skin.

“You eat?” Wihtgar’s question dripped with disgust as Marlena rolled a plump peach in her hands.

“I like the flavours, can you not stomach it?”

“I have no need to,” Scoffing, he swilled his chalice wafting the scent of ripe blood.

“You’re missing out,” Marlena bit into the peach, fighting against a smile at his disapproving look as she chewed.

“Enjoy it while you can, princess. Northern weather is harsh, apples and pears barely survive growing and I hear the ones that do can be…bitter.”

Hal abruptly stood from his chair before Marlena could respond, “I think it’s time we had dancing!” He proclaimed, inciting the flutes and harps to play.

When will this pageantry end?

The only thing giving Marlena comfort as she took to the floor with Wihtgar was that his pained smile mirrored hers. It was becoming clearer to her that neither of them was truly thrilled with the idea of this union.

His hand against hers did not spark flames or excitement, it was cold like ice. Her mood didn’t improve as the dancing continued, elegantly turning and moving from partner to partner.

Finan was currently twirling the daughter of a high-ranking changeling, the quickening of the girl's heart and flushed cheeks, barely hidden by blonde curls, were hard to ignore.

Envy crept its way through Marlena’s veins that not even her brother’s whisper could wash away, “Fix your face, sister,” and then she was spun on to the next partner.

Her breath caught in her throat as she met the burnt umber eyes she knew so well, casting her gaze away as he took her hand, the familiar warmth she missed briefly returning.

Spinning her once he lifted her with ease, a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth as he brought her back down.

“Is that a smile I see, princess?” Finan spoke discreetly.

“No.”

A lie. The apples of her cheeks gave her away, no matter how hard she pressed her lips together, she was smiling. She hated it.

“Looks like one,” He smirked.

These were the first words they had spoken since his last visit to her room. She’d returned to the council sessions just to catch a glimpse of him, every bit of anger she held melted away the moment he was in her line of sight, quickly replaced with sadness.

Marlena’s face fell, his “I made a vow that when the time came to give you up, I would.” hitting her all over again.

“How's my performance so far, Lord Commander?”

She watched a frown form on his face, the implication of her question slowly realised and she turned on her heel, leaving the dance.

Finan quietly stepped away from the shuffling group, making his way back to his table, Marlena in the corner of his peripheral the entire time.

“I think that one likes you,” Osferth chimed, nodding towards the blonde Finan had danced with as he handed over his cup.

He took a gulp, watching the princess leave the ballroom in the direction of the gardens, followed by Sihtric, “She can like all she wants, it’ll never happen.”

Quickly refilling his drink, he kept close to the back wall, inching closer to the gardens while dodging the hopeful eyes of young ladies wanting to enjoy an evening of festivities.

Pushing through the large door, the barely cooler air hit his skin, stagnant fountain water and drying plants filling his nose. Sihtric was unshocked at his approach, simply pointing him in the direction of Marlena perched on the fountain wall, leaning back against a stone pillar with her fingertips skimming over greening water.

“Your Highness.”

She didn’t look at him as her words stopped him in his tracks, “That’s close enough.”

“Nice ring,” He sighed, leaning on the pillar opposite.

“No, it isn’t.”

The gold band was bulky on her slender finger, and the large ruby was cut in an inelegant style that didn’t match the smaller emeralds.

“You’re right, it’s not but I was being polite.”

“I wish you wouldn’t be,” Marlena scoffed, finally meeting his gaze, “What do you want?”

A multitude of answers sat on the tip of his tongue. To ask if you’re alright, tell you to rest, apologise, and say I miss you…

“I’m leaving for Westwatch Fort soon, things aren’t going too well down there and I was hoping you’d be able to mention a small matter to the council.”

“Ah, so this is about politics?”

“Not quite, I’ve mentioned it to the king but he dismisses it. They still haven’t replaced you for patrols on the northwest coast, I’m worried about what might happen in Nordale if no one’s watching it.”

Water droplets dripped as she pulled her hand away from the water, disturbing the still surface, her look contemplative before finally responding, “I’ll mention it, can’t be ignored if the council is made aware.”

A light breeze stirred Marlena’s hair, the hanging pearls glistening, the scent of bergamot reaching Finan over the stale lily pads.

“You look beautiful,” The words tumbled from his lips before he could stop them.

Her eyes stayed fixed on him as her head turned in the direction of Hal’s voice.

“Uh, you can’t be out here alone, especially with him.”

“We’re not alone,” Marlena clipped, pointing at a silent Sihtric who pursed his lips.

Osferth quickly rounded the fountain and dipped into a bow, “Prince Hal, Princess-”

“Don’t bother, I’m going to bed.”

“Shouldn’t you tell Wihtgar?” Hal’s question had Marlena roll her eyes as she stood and motioned for Sihtric to follow.

“You deal with him, you’ll have kinder words. Talk to Osferth.”

The three remaining men watched her figure disappear, leaving them alone in the late spring night.

Hal sighed, putting himself in the spot his sister had just left, “You may ask your questions, mage.”

“Thank you, I’ve been struggling to locate records for when your father stepped in as prince regent. There were quite a few councilmen not mentioned again after Isobel’s last council session, I was wondering if you knew what happened to them?”

The prince looked at Finan for reassurance, and he nodded to say Osferth could be trusted.

“That was before I was allowed to attend court, they probably died in the early days of the war as my mother had. I was just a boy when this happened, I was kept away from it until after the coronation,” Hal spotted Finan’s drink and unabashedly took it for himself.

“I wasn’t aware your mother was a fighter?” Osferth’s brow furrowed, hands clasping behind his back.

“She wasn’t. When the shadows broke their peace treaty they did it inside the city walls, that’s how she- and probably the others- died.”

Finan stood up straight, bewilderment painting his face, “I’m sorry, Your Highness, did you just say - when the shadows broke their peace treaty?”

“Yes, that is usually how a war begins…”

In all his time serving King Helier not once had anyone mentioned the reasons behind the shadow walker attacks. It was never discussed in full; Finan had always been led to believe it was just in their nature to be violent towards the West.

Osferth stammered, the unexpected information breaking his thought process, “Wh-where was Isobel when this happened?”

“Already isolated for treatment, not that Pyrlig was any good at quietening her pleas. He was equally useless with Marlena too, I don’t know why my father kept him around,” Hal sipped the infused wine, his nonchalance the exact opposite of the other’s expressions.

“Isobel was pleading?”

“Yes, begging to be let out because of a promise that was made or something. It was so loud you’d hear her from the bailey, poor soul.”

“And what was wrong with Marlena?”

Hal stopped swilling his cup, a flicker of confusion in his eyes, “That’s not in the archives either?”

“No…” Osferth breathed.

“Then I can’t help you there I’m afraid. I only saw her on her good days a handful of times before she was properly presented to the court. Now if you don’t mind, I have a lovely lady waiting inside for a dance,” He handed the wine back to Finan, slipping away from the pair who stood in a state of shock.

“I don’t have a good feeling about-”

“Not here,” Finan cut Osferth off, motioning to the gardens surrounded by doors that led back to the keep.

As Marlena’s furious steps carried her through the halls of the keep, her head spun with the whispers of Adalyn, “I heard him say that it should be the Lady Sigunn wearing that ring and not you.” and Rypere, “He speaks of her too fondly to Yahya, princess, he is angry that Aelfric refused to allow her to travel here.”

She ignored the bowing staff as she climbed the stairs of the south tower and Sihtric’s quiet pleading that she should wait until he could intercept a letter as more proof.

This was her way out of the betrothal, and as she burst through the door into Helier’s chambers, her voice didn’t waver, “Father, this marriage cannot go ahead.”

“And why not?” He asked calmly, writing a letter undisturbed.

“I happen to know on good authority that Wihtgar is romantically invested in Lady Sigunn, the woman they intend to have as my handmaiden.”

“You are hardly one to pass judgement for that type of behaviour, Marlena.”

“A behaviour I have had to change, but I’m sure you are already aware of that. This is different and I refuse to allow this wedding to take place.”

Helier sighed, placing down his quill and standing from his chair, “Have you considered looking at the bigger picture for once instead of sitting in that chamber with a solemn face while wearing your ridiculous gowns that everyone knows the meaning of, and sulking in the training yard? I do not need to explain how men of nobility behave and treat their wives as a secondary object, Marlena, you know this! You have been a witness to this your whole life!”

“I have always been looking at the bigger picture! I am to marry Wihtgar to save these lands, a decision you made and one I did not fight against as much as I could have. I will not ask your forgiveness for telling you the hard truth, he IS in love with another woman and I AM in love with another man but the difference is I have to suffer through his love being around me, constantly reporting everything back to him and my love-”

She took a sharp inhale realising how easily her emotions for Finan fell from her lips, “You think what you have done is honourable. I only see this union ending in disaster, and yes, I may be a queen for a time if I survive that long, but at what cost to me?”

Helier barked a laugh and shook his head, “You are in no position to be selfish. You forget you are property of the crown and as KING I say what happens to that property. As for your love, you are giving him the chance to survive, we are closer to perishing than you realise.”

“Then request aid from the east!”

“I ALREADY TRIED!”

She didn’t shrink away from his anger as he caught his breath, taking slow steps towards her.

“Alfred refused. Aethelred refused. Edward is still not of age to give authority. Time was against us, so I couldn’t ask the other covens. Aelfric was the only choice. Believe me, when I say I tried to ensure you could remain here, I truly did. I know the north will not be easy for you Marlena, but you must do this,” His voice calmed as hands reached out to hold her arms.

Shrugging away from her father's touch the reality of her circumstances started to sink in, “Fine, I will tolerate his insults, but whatever comes of this, it’s your burden to bear.”

Marlena had hoped to relieve the growing stress by training, but it only increased once she reached the yard.

As she went through spear drills with Sihtric, she had to suffer through hearing thick iron arrows thump against the practice boards. Wihtgar wasn’t even dressed for training; he wore his finest clothes, a thick cloak draped over his shoulders while showing off a ridiculous crossbow he was too lazy to load himself.

He prattled on about the glorious design to Finan and Marlena knew him well enough to tell that he didn’t care for Wihtgar’s contraption, feigning interest as he oversaw the yard.

“I don’t have any skill with a crossbow, Your Highness,” Finan clarified, again.

“I don’t suspect you do, you strike me as more of a shield wall man.”

“The best place to lead from.”

“And what of you, Princess? Any skill with a bow?” Wihtgar called out over the yard, blindly taking back the loaded weapon.

“No, I was trained by the lord commander.”

“Of course you were,” The prince muttered, taking aim and shooting at the target once more.

Marlena came to stand beside him, her head tilted as she took count of all the arrows stuck into the board. Not a single one had hit the centre target. Correcting her stance, she twirled the spear in her hand before hurling it at the board, the wood cracking slightly as it struck the gold.

She caught the smile Finan failed to hide by looking to the floor as she turned to Wihtgar.

His unamused stare filled her with a small sense of joy, and his voice laced with venom helped it bloom further, “Why do you still insist on training? You have no men to lead.”

“If we continue to lose these battles and our enemies make it into the city, do you expect me to sit in my chambers waiting to die?”

“Princess!” Clapa’s booming voice prevented Wihtgar from responding, and Marlena was glad to have an excuse to leave his presence as she walked towards the giant on the edge of the yard.

“Is everything alright?” She asked, following him through the bailey to the smithy.

“Yes, Your Highness. I have something here for you.”

Inside the steaming workshop, she was directed to a table with two smaller-edged blades on top of it.

“What’s this? Your version of an engagement gift?” She smiled.

“No, they were commissioned by the lord commander, he said you’d need them.”

She carefully picked up the black steel handle, admiring the silver inlay flowing through the curves, her brows raising at the glinting tip of the stiletto dagger.

“They’re beautiful, Clapa.”

“And deadly in close combat too. They may look fragile but that steel is strong, they have a much easier time penetrating armour and here, look,” He picked up the second and rested the bolster on one large finger, “Perfectly balanced, even in dainty hands like yours, princess.”

The bailey was busy with horses being readied as Finan headed to the stables for his own mare, his eyes narrowing as he spied Marlena struggling with a clasp on his saddle bag.

“Sabotaging my saddle, princess?” His accusation was playful as he came to look over her shoulder.

“No.”

She huffed and held up the perfectly folded square between her fingers, not looking at him as she stroked the hazel horse with her other hand, “It’s a thank you note, nothing more.”

“Nothing more?” He smirked, feeling her annoyance at being caught as he took the small letter.

Turning to face him she left little room between them, melancholy glittering in her dark irises, a sombreness in her quiet voice, “Not as long as duty exists.”

He dared not watch her as she slipped away, intent on burying the unneeded emotions as he continued readying his mare, throwing out the odd order to the men waiting for his direction.

Please don’t do anything foolish, he thought as he gave Marlena one final look before leading his forces out through the gatehouse.

After riding out, Finan paused at the top of the hillcrest overlooking the black sands littered with the carnage of recent battle stretching up to Westwatch Fort, torches burning along the tall walls and corner towers facing the sea.

Ship sails dotted the horizon line, many more than he had expected to see, but he kept a brave face as he stood in the courtyard listening to the troubling reports.

“Even with your arrival we still have fewer than what we first came with and there are no trebuchets left, commander.”

Finan stared at the young soldier, his armour shockingly clean compared to the others around them, “Outside that gate is a forest, did no one think to get out there with an axe?”

The group murmured and shifted from foot to foot unsure of how to respond; Finan’s impatience got the better of him, “What’re you standing there for? Go!”

Standing in a watch tower under dancing firelight, Finan watched as the number of approaching sails grew. The fort would only withstand a siege for so long before he’d be forced to meet the sea barons in battle, or he could face them straight away.

Looking across the bay, he could make out the faint lights of the keep's towers in the distance. He finally turned his attention to the folded paper in the palm of his hand. Carefully peeling back the corners to reveal petite forget-me-nots, the blue petals pressed flat against an inked sketch of his family crest.

Marlena stared at her reflection in the bronze mirror, a deep blue silk draped around her form and pinned in place. Adalyn’s gentle touch added the pearl embellished material around her neck, careful not to prick her skin as she slid another pin into the fabric on her shoulder, idly passing comments with the seamstress as they worked.

As far as wedding gowns went, Marlena believed the finished garment would look beautiful, but it brought her no joy. Her head turned to the door before Sihtric knocked and opened it, concern written all over his features.

Her quick steps, half running, half walking, carried her down the echoing steps and through the windowless back corridors as she bunched up her unfinished billowing skirts and entered Helier’s private office.

“Your Highness, this is hardly appropriate-” Yannic started to berate Marlena for her appearance.

“I was sent for with urgency and there is no safe way to get out of this quickly without damaging it,” She barely looked at Wihtgar who sat in the corner with Yahya, turning her attention to the king, “You asked for me, Father?”

“I did, Westwatch Fort is under heavy attack and it’s likely to get worse by nightfall,” Sighing heavily he picked up an item from behind the desk and placed it down, “This was sent over the sea wall along with the message that the city is next.”

Marlena picked up the bloodied helmet, running her finger along a split down its centre, her stomach sinking as Helier continued.

“Prince Wihtgar, when can we expect the rest of your forces from the north? We’ve been waiting for some time, they still haven’t been spotted by Nordale.”

“They’re coming, but I am unsure of an arrival date,” The prince responded too calmly for anyone’s liking.

“I suggest you send a messenger to find out. Yannic, would we be able to divert Hal from Haywood?”

“Westwatch will be lost by the time he arrives, Your Grace.”

Finan will be lost, Marlena’s mind rapidly spun through the horrific ways he would meet death and the possible ways they could prevent that from happening, “Send me.”

“I would advise against-” Yannic attempted to speak but she cut him off, throwing the helmet on the desk.

“Westwatch is too important to lose. It’s our largest defence on the coastline, if the barons take that fort, King Aelfric and Hal will be stuck between them and the south fighting on two fronts. We’ll have no army left.”

Wihtgar stood from his seat, “She is not permitted to patrol.”

“It is not a patrol, it’s warfare. Father, please, You named me a protector of the realm and duty is all you speak of now. Let me do what I was trained for and lead my men still here while I can.”

Marlena placed her hands on the desk, willing her father to look up from the map and meet her desperate gaze. She may have had ulterior motives for wanting to go but she was right about the fort being too important to lose.

Helier rubbed at his temple, “You go only to bring it under control, understand?”

Determination had Marlena back in her chambers quickly, ridding herself of rich silks for thick leather trousers and a linen undershirt.

Grimacing under the weight of her mail collar she helped Adalyn as best as she could, holding plates of armour in place as they were fastened. Cuirass first, then pauldrons, rerebraces, and vambraces.

Before picking up her sword she harshly tugged Wihtgar’s ring free from her finger, tossing it onto the vanity table.

“No greaves?” Sihtric asked on their way to the stables.

“We’ll be fighting on sand, I don’t want the extra weight.”

Marlena addressed the gathered warriors under the rising moon, her voice carrying with ease, “Let me remind those of us who may be so inclined, do not feed from the barons! You never know which ones are under the influence of their potions until it is too late.”

Wihtgar quietly sidled up to a horsed Sihtric, “Be sure she returns in one piece.”

“She always does, Your Highness.”

Without a glance back, Marlena gently eased her mare into a walk, passing through the gatehouse to the sight of the city’s occupants peering out of windows, some opening their doors to get a better look at what was happening.

It didn’t take long to travel from the city to Westwatch, and as the cohort arrived at the thick treeline running parallel to the sloping hills and dunes Marlena dismounted, “We continue on foot. I don’t want them to know we’re here until we’re on them. Get the archers some fire, tell them to focus on the ships and anyone trying to reach them.”

“They cannot flee without ships…” Osferth stated.

“Fleeing isn’t an option, they will die on this beach. If that’s something you oppose, I suggest you carry onto the fort and wait it out behind the walls.”

She watched Osferth look at Sihtric and Rypere nervously. In normal circumstances, she wouldn’t be so brutal but the more sea barons they took off the field now, the less they’d have to fight at a later date.

“I’m coming with you, princess.”

“He’ll be fine, he can handle himself,” Sihtric reassured, patting the mage’s shoulder.

Marlena ensured the leather straps holding the freshly forged daggers to her thighs were tight before removing her clunky sword belt, her grip flexing on the handles of her sword and axe. With her fighters following, she crept up to the hillcrest, jaw clenching at the sight below.

Her feet sunk deeper into the black sand the further she descended the dunes, eyes flickering over the unsuspecting bodies engrossed in hard battle, ears trying to block out the overwhelming onslaught.

Taking a long inhale, Marlena gave her sword a single spin and ran out into the crowd, rapidly hacking through sea barons.

Swords clashed, pikes pierced chainmail, screams gurgled, cries were harshly silenced, and commands were cut short underneath a flurry of burning arrows flying through the clear night sky.

As Marlena twisted her blade through the guts of the man lying at her feet, she was sharply yanked backwards by her thick braid, hitting the ground with a grunt. A heavy boot slammed into her chest forcing her back down. She didn’t see the determined face of her would-be killer, their blood already wetting the sand.

“What’re you doing here?!” Finan bellowed; His hand gripping the neck of her armour and pulling her to stand.

“You are overrun!”

“You should be at home,” He spun her away, slicing at another body, “PLANNING A WEDDING!”

“FUCK THE WEDDING!” She retorted, picking up a discarded spear and launching it through the air, seamlessly hitting her target.

“This isn’t the time!” Sihtric called from behind, axe and sword chopping through enemies.

Bright flames engulfed the ships, their wooden hulls creaking and groaning as they crumbled into the calm waves, their unruly passengers now stranded on the shore.

Salty air, charring wood, sweat, and death mixed created a pungent aroma that carried on a light breeze, along with a distinct screeching spilling over the hilltops.

Everyone stilled. Vampyres, changelings, and mortals, all stared at the crest.

The tall figures slowly descended, followed by hulking four-legged creatures, their shimmering grey veils shifting around their forms, shadow walkers.

“Marlena, get to the fort…” Finan breathed beside her, tightening his grip on his weapon. She’d never fought shadows before, and none of them had fought their latest additions.

“Not without you.”

“I’ll call a retreat but let me buy you some time-”

The men in front were unexpectedly barrelled through by wolf-like shapes, their screams cut off, a separate attack from the dunes.

“Go!” Finan barked, pushing Marlena back and so she turned to run.

The world was in chaos around her, wails, snarls, whistling screeches, bodies shining with gore falling to the ground, burning arrows hitting any target they could as she ducked and weaved as fast as she could towards the gates at the far end of the beach.

“Fall back!” She cried, picking up a young squire hiding behind a stack of beechwood and dragging him along as he sobbed. Her command echoed through the others, relieved they could attempt to flee to safety.

Air was knocked from Marlena’s lungs, her feet were no longer on the ground as she was severely rammed from the side by a solid mass.

She spat the sand from her mouth, quickly rotating onto her knees coming face to face with a grey shimmering beast. Saliva dripped down its canines, growls rumbled in its throat, and dark eyes focused on her.

Marlena’s eyes flickered from the hulking hound to her sword just out of reach, her chest heaved calculating her next move, “Fuck.”

And with that, she launched forward, hand just grabbing the hilt of her sword as the beast lurched at her, burrowing her blade into its belly with its jaw savagely biting into her shoulder taking them both down to the floor.

Sharp incisors and claws tore at her armour, ripping through her skin with ease. Reaching for her daggers with gritted teeth, she punctured the snarling beast over and over, its dark ichor seeping into her worsening wounds. The pain became unbearable; the blood-curdling scream ripped from her lungs and filled the open sky, contorting into a shrill cry matching the calls of the shadows, silencing the beach.

The ground thudded beneath her, a deep guttural roar sounded, a flash of burly fur collided with the dying wolf on top of her, and she was free of its clutches.

Through ringing ears, Marlena heard the order of protection called and the sound of a shield wall raised, the softer clinking of chainmail coming closer, her ragged breaths and Finan’s voice.

“I’ve got you,” He soothed shakily, lifting her into his arms and carrying her away, flanked by Osferth and Sihtric.

They quickly made it to the end of the beach, through the gates and into a small back room. Sihtric wiped everything clear off a table where Marlena was gently placed down, her shaking body beginning to convulse, eyes squeezed shut at the increasing pain while Osferth instructed the pages to place a trunk of supplies down and leave.

“Marlena?” Finan brushed the messy strands of her hair away from her face.

Her eyes flew open with a grunt as a viscous shudder gripped her body, revealing a jet black stare, the whites of her eyes non-existent and a strange grey current moving beneath the surface of her skin.

Finan stared back at her in shock, “What the fuck is happening to her?”

“I don’t know,” Osferth glanced away rummaging through the box for comferi leaves and linen dressing.

“Could it be poison?”

“Maybe, I can’t be sure.”

“Infection?”

“I don’t know!” The mage shot back, coming to the table with his supplies and shaky hands, “I have never seen or heard of this happening before.”

As Osferth moved to unfasten the crimsoned pauldron crushed into Marlena’s shoulder she weakly slapped him away, sobbing in protest, warm tears streaking the drying blood on her face.

“Look at me, focus on me,” Finan instructed her calmly; His hands gently cradling her jaw, watching the black waters shrouding her eyes ripple away and the murky current under her skin still, “We have to clean you up, alright?”

Finan hushed her noises of discomfort as he sat her up, his hands making fast work of unclasping her armour.

She gripped the edge of the table, bracing herself as the splintered steel embedded into the wounds was pulled free, fresh blood trickling down her shoulder and spilling from her chest and waist, no longer able to be soaked up by the already drenched linen shirt covering her body.

Taglist: @deandoesthingstome @arcielee @gemini-mama @persephones-journey

#the last kingdom fanfic #finan x oc #finan fanfic #tlk fanfiction #tlk fanfic #tlk au

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elleniemae · 3 months

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New oc babyyyyyy

Her name is Adalyn or Addie. She has time magic. Details subject to change lol

May or may not make a webcomic about her with my friend? Idk we’ll figure it out.

#digital art #my art #orginal character #oc #fantasy #magic

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storyofmychoices · 1 year

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Malia Alaina Lahela (OC)

Malia means calm, serene, or peaceful. This meaning is reflected in the name's origin, as it is associated with the beautiful and serene Hawaiian islands. Malia can also mean "of the sea"

Malia is the Hawaiian form of "Mary", which is Olivia's grandmother's name.

Alaina is a Hawaiian Name that means precious.

Parents: Bryce and Olivia Lahela Birthday: November 23, 2023, 10:23am (Thanksgiving Day) Sign: Sagittarius Personality: honest, adventurous, intellectual, passionate, optimistic, curious, opinionated, reckless (at times), may seem egotistical due to her advanced knowledge

Skin Color: Warm tan (lighter in the winter, darker in the summer) Hair Color: Brown with red highlights Eye Color: Hazel/green at birth but change to Brown in a couple months

Future Career: Neurosurgeon, then Chief of Surgery

Facts and Headcanons

Malia loves the water (eventually). Malia is unsure about water at first, it takes some coaxing, much to her parents chagrin, but once she discovers the wonders of water, they can't keep their little mermaid out of the water.

After feeling her brother move when Olivia was pregnant with him, Malia thought he was going to be a fish.

Malia is ambidextrous. Both Olivia and Bryce are left-handed so at home, they always taught her to use her left hand. At school, her teachers taught her to use her right hand. Malia had no idea there was a difference. She thought one way the "at school way" and one way was "at home way" and she just assumed everyone could use both hands with equal fluency. This skill helps her become a very incredibly skilled surgeon due to her flexibility

Malia has many nicknames: Lia (pronounced L-EE-uh), Mali (pronounced Maa-LEE), little mermaid, and sometimes Mia (MEE-ah), and LiLi (LEE-LEE)

Malia is the inspiration for Olivia's children's books. Olivia and Bryce want to have quality children's books with medical themes for Malia and later Makoa, so Olivia writes (and eventually publishes) her own.

Middle Name HC: her parents settled on Malia quickly because it was a Hawaiian name (Bryce) but a form of Mary (Olivia / her grandmother. They went back and forth with her middle name. Olivia had suggested Adalyn so her initials would be MAL like MALia. But Bryce wanted Taylor (he's a closet Swiftie). Eventually, they settled on Alaina (a Hawaiian name that means precious). When they heard it, they both decided that was the perfect name: Malia Alaina Lahela.

More to come...

For more information check out:

[All things Olivia Hadley] [Bryce Lahela x Olivia Hadley Masterlist]

Malia is an female original character in the Open Heart Universe.

#bryce lahela #bryce lahela x mc #malia lahela #open heart #open heart oc #moodboard #april2023 #playchoices #lovealexhunt #aesthetic #character profile #oc character

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made-by-marlow · 10 months

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feminine (& some neutral) character names: big list two

Inspiration: pinterest, books i'm writing, people I know, words that are cool, names from media I like

Adalyn

Addie

Agnes

Andrea

Arianna

Ariel

Ashley

Audrey

Brooke

Clover

Cora

Eden

Ellyanna

Emery

Emmerson

Ezra

Flynn

Gianna

Hadley

Isla

Ivy

Jade

Joey / Joie

Josephine

Juniper

Katherine

Kayla

Kaylee

Khloe

Lani

Leilani

Lia / Leah

Lila

Lilianna

Liz

Lydia

Maggie

Margret

May / Mae

Meg

Melanie

Nemona

Nevaeh

Paris

Piper

Quinn

Reagan

Rian

Rose

Rosemary

Sydney

Taylor

Tilly

Valentine

Virgo

Vivienne

#character name ideas #character names #aspiring writer #creative writing #writeblr #my writing #writing #writing blog #writers on tumblr #original character #tumblr writers #writerscorner #writers and poets #character design

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caitylove · 9 months

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EEEP! Thanks @cleverlycrusher for tagging me. I'm gonna try to do this now, otherwise my brain will 100% forget.

3 ships: Only 3? I am such a big shipper, its a huge part of my personality. Mulder/Scully and Bill Adama/Laura Roslin and probably SwanQueen are the ones I have shipped the hardest.

first ever ship: So the X-Files was my introduction to fandom when I was like 11 (which was like 2001...) so it would absolutely be Mulder/Scully. (I er... may have accidentally even gotten my sex ed from MSR fics... oops.)

last song: Blinding by Florence and the Machine

last movie: I honestly think it was Barbie.. Which was great. Go see it.

currently reading: I'm currently reading Foxglove by Adalyn Grace. Plus a million fanfictions. SO many fanfictions. The amount of fanfic I consume is probably dangerous. I AM rereading my all time favorite fanfic: (aka listening to the podfic of it) Parabiosis by Penumbra. Its literally a classic and just so so good. If you are an X-files fan and never read it, please do!

currently watching: Ashoka, Doing a Major Crimes watch, and a slow Battlestar Galactica and X-Files rewatch when I have time

currently consuming: ... Water.

currently craving: For my vacation to get here in a few days and chocolate.

9 people to tag: Shit. 9? Thats so many people... @holy-ships-x-red-lips, @divine-feminine-etc, @fracktastic, @ryuhoshi, @erablaise-blog, @scullys-scalpel, @telemiel, @smarchit, @kate04us. Definitely don't feel obligated. <3

#tagging game #thanks for tagging me!#tag game

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unseededtoast · 10 months

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Rectify | Bucky Barnes

Part 3/37 | Part Two & Part Four

Summary: I've lived every day for the past five years looking over my shoulder. I knew they'd come for me, it was inevitable. I was foolish to think I could outrun my past. It's followed me everywhere I go, lurking in the shadows, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. Never would I have anticipated that the shadows would lead me to the light.

Bucky Barnes x OC

Series Warnings: Discussion of human trafficking, alcohol consumption, graphic depictions of violence, sexual content, discussion of suicidal thoughts.

a/n: Hi everyone, thank you for checking this out, I appreciate any and all support! This series is also posted on Ao3 and Wattpad if you prefer those formats/platforms! This is a completed series, and it's going to take some time for me to transfer it to Tumblr, so please bear with me!

"A few weeks ago we came into contact with one of Hydra's weapons...We found ourselves in possession of this weapon but we are unable to decode whatever it is Hydra installed."

The chains clink against the metal fixture on the desk as the handcuffs are released from my wrists. I rub them, feeling the small indents they left on my skin and stay seated though I am free from restraints. I watch Director Fury closely, knowing I'm not entirely free and am still under his command.

"I'll be right back, don't leave this room." He instructs and I remain seated, not willing to move and jeopardize the new start I have been granted. A few moments pass and he brings in a bowl of water and some plain white cloth.

"You need to wash up before you leave this room, there's no time to waste for your assignment." I grab the cloth and wet it with some of the water, cleaning off my face and hands of the dead man's blood. The water turns a dark reddish brown as I continue to wet the cloth after wiping off the blood. I wonder what can be so urgent that they're going to assign me to something only moments after I pledged loyalty. I find it very peculiar that they're giving me an assignment instead of placing me under observation for a while. For all they know I could be lying about everything, something seems off. But, I can't question it or I'll look even more suspicious.

As I finish cleaning myself up, Director Fury beckons me to follow him out of the room. I stand and follow the man,

"I want you to meet some people. They're working on a project dealing with memories. Perhaps you can enlighten them and speed the process up given your background. It would be most beneficial that our scientists understand this as much as you do. It's a time sensitive matter. But make no mistake you will be watched, and if you try anything we will handle it." He explains in an authoritative voice as he leads me through hallways. What can be so time sensitive about my work? I ponder the question and feel uneasy about what the answer may be but remain optimistic.

The Director opens a glass door, where there are two people working. I recognize one of them as an Avenger. The lab is full of top of the line equipment and the most advanced technology I've ever seen. My palms begin to sweat as memories flash through my mind, the same scenario, different years. But I know this time it's different, it has to be. There's just no way I pledged myself to repeat the same mistake all over again.

"Bruce, this is Adalyn Averina, and she's been so kind as to provide her expertise on the project." I'm grateful that Director Fury opted to leave out the grittier, less pretty details for my sake. I nod to Bruce, who I know is also the Hulk from numerous tv broadcasts I've seen over the years. I'm introduced to the other scientist as well, she's a grad student at a local university here on an internship. The Director leaves the lab wordlessly, leaving me without any specific tasking. I feel lost and very much out of place. Everything seems to be happening at a very rapid pace, and it's not only disorienting but peculiar as well. I rub my arm anxiously and look to Bruce for any sort of direction.

"Yeah, as Fury said I'm Bruce, it's nice to meet you Adalyn, welcome to the team." He warmly smiles, eroding away some of the nerves. I smile back and approach him at the table he's working at. I see he has microscope slides laid out on a table, and I try to decipher what they are.

"It's nice to meet you as well, I assume we're lab partners then?" My eyes break away from the slides and up to his, they glimmer with humor.

"Yeah, I guess you can say we're lab partners. Oh, these are all brain matter, the subject suffered from severe Alzheimer's. Tony's been on a kick about retrieving memories, some childhood trauma thing I think. It just so happened that the project aligned with Tony's interests." Bruce rambles on and I nod, following what he's saying though I don't even know what the project is specifically about, or what the goals are.

"Well, I don't mean to interrupt your own research, it's just that I've already conducted these studies. I still have more to do, but I've got this much down." I say, hoping he doesn't take offense. His eyebrows raise in surprise.

"Really? That's remarkable. Do you have anything published? I swear I've looked everywhere for this information." I shake my head at his question.

"No, nothing is published publicly, but I do have a substantial amount of experience under my belt. I can explain it all to you, if you want of course. I'm not trying to stop you from doing your own research." I say, becoming more comfortable in his presence.

"By all means, please. I'm all ears." He sits down on a stool and I nod.

I explain the very basics to him, the parts of the brain and their functions, and how diseases such as Alzheimer's wear away at the brain matter. I briefly explain that with electrical stimulation, some of the parts of the brain can be programmed, in a way, and that this method can be used for several different uses. I explain that memory retrieval is very difficult and usually has to be handled on a case-to-case basis; treatment has to be tailored to the individual's experience, it's not a cookie cutter situation. I spare the details of what my experience is, and thankfully he doesn't ask. Hopefully he assumes my experiments were conducted on lab rats. He sits in silence after I finish my spiel, he rubs his chin as he thinks it all over.

"I think you might be the answer Tony's been looking for. I don't know where he is right now, but when he gets back you'll have to fill him in. You've got some good stuff, how old are you by the way? You seem a little young to be this educated."

"I'm 24." I answer and he nods.

"Well, that's very impressive and I'm glad we've got you alongside us now." I smile appreciatively and look to the noise coming from behind me. I see a short girl dressed in the standard Shield uniform.

"I was sent to get you." She speaks to me and I nod, following her. She leads me to another part of the building and up to the third floor.

"I'm showing you to your room where you will be staying for the duration of your time here." I stay silent and follow her down the hall. The hall only has six doors in total, I'm guessing some other employees live here. She stops at the third door on the right and nods to me,

"This is your room, and I've been told someone will come retrieve you momentarily." She says and walks off, leaving me alone. Shield sure does trust new recruits a lot to keep leaving me alone. I don't know if I would be as trusting of someone with my background. But perhaps I'm under surveillance, and they're observing what I do. That would be the smart thing to do.

I watch her walk out of the hall and then turn the door's handle. The room inside is bare. There's a single bed in the middle with a nightstand on one side, a lamp beside the door, a dresser against the wall opposite of the bed with a mirror hanging above it. I walk inside and shut the door behind me, familiarizing myself. I see an attached bathroom, noting that it also is small and basic. I stare at the bed longingly, this has been the most exhausting day I've had in a long time. I sit on the bed and stretch, soaking in the little peace I've had all day.

Though I should feel anxious after everything that's happened, I know I'm in the safest place I could possibly be. I'm too tired to worry about anything, the anxiety will have to wait until the morning. I close my eyes and breathe in the cool, crisp air of the room.

Although my bed at home was far more comfortable, this one offers a sense of security that my old one could've never provided. And though it's less than ideal to be working for another organization, it sure beats being on the run for the rest of my life. I'm just nervous to see what the project is about, and why they're looking for someone with my skill set. A sudden knock on the door startles me from my momentary peace and I jump up to answer the door.

"Miss Averina, I hope you're finding the accommodations to be up to your standard?" Director Fury questions and I nod,

"Of course, sir. Thank you." I pay my gratitude and he starts walking down the hall.

I shut the door behind me and follow him. People stare as we walk by and I wish I could vanish. They could know absolutely nothing about me, or they could know everything, there's no way for me to tell. Ignoring the stares is easier said than done, but I focus on the back of Fury's bald head, hoping the light reflecting off of it is enough of a distraction.

"Time to meet your new team." Fury says, opening a door.

We step in and I see four people sitting around a table. I recognize them all. I feel uneasiness creep into me but I try to ignore it. I rub my palms together as I look at each of the people at the table. Luckily, I've already met one of them.

Bruce sends a warm smile my way and I return it to the best of my ability, the others watching my every move. I take a seat next to Fury and wait for anyone else to say something, I cannot stand the tense silence in the room. From the status of the people in this room I'm concerned about what the project could be, it's obviously not something small if four Avengers are involved.

"So, it seems that we're in God's good graces as he's sent us someone who I believe can crack the code." Fury begins speaking, all eyes lingering on him except mine. I continue to look at the people in the room, knowing they could all single handedly kill me in a split second if they so desired.

"Bruce has already met the newest member of the team, but I'll let her speak for herself." Fury turns the attention to me and I nod shortly. I wasn't expecting to be put on the spot. I lick my lips and wipe the palms of my hands on my thighs.

"I am Adalyn Averina and I am a professor specializing in brain anatomy and physiology, with a focus in memory functions. I have an extensive background in this field and I am happy to help in whatever way I can." I keep my introduction short and sweet, not giving up too much information.

"Sorry, but with all due respect you don't look a day over 20. Bruce and I have been working on this for weeks now and haven't been able to figure it out but you just so happen to understand everything?" The man sits forward in his seat, looking intensely at me. This must be the Tony Stark charm I've heard rumors of. I nod my head, hoping to calm the rising tension.

"Yes, like I said I have extensive experience and research into this topic, I've been involved in it since I was a little girl." I see him internally trying to piece things together.

"Okay hold on. So you're like a child prodigy or something? And you have a Russian accent, I hear it. Fury where did you find her? You're sure she's not another spy?" Tony seems paranoid, and I can't blame him because I too find this situation unconventional.

"It is highly unlikely that she's a spy, Stark." Fury defends my credibility. Tony stays quiet but stares.

"She was in the lab earlier with me Tony, she knows her stuff." Bruce also sticks up for me. It's weird having Fury and Bruce defend me though I've known them both less than two hours. The blonde haired man sits up straighter in his seat and makes eye contact with me.

"I know Bruce and Tony have a scientific interest in your work, but it's a little more personal to me. If you can help us, I will be very grateful." I give him a small smile. I like him, he seems just as he appears on the television. He is the personification of honor.

"I will do my very best to help. I am unsure of what the tasking is, I'm still in the dark about that." I admit, looking between all the people at the table. The one redhead has been quiet the entire time, though she's been studying me with slightly squinted eyes. I hear Fury sigh and I look to him,

"A few weeks ago we came into contact with one of Hydra's weapons. The timing could not have been a coincidence, we've found a few Hydra spies in the past few weeks but we've eradicated them. We found ourselves in possession of this weapon but we are unable to decode whatever it is Hydra installed." I scrunch my eyebrows, concentrating on what he's saying. It doesn't make sense, I'm not a weapons expert.

As if I had run into a brick wall, it feels like the breath has been knocked out of me and my eyes widen a bit, there's no way they could possibly be talking about my Hydra mission, though it would all make sense. I suppress my anxiety and focus on the matter at hand. Fury turns in his chair and plays a video on a hologram.

I watch the scene unfold. Steve is fighting with a man on a highway that's been blown to hell. My stomach drops and I feel like I'm going to pass out. There's no way. My eyes are intensely glued to the video, and I watch as knives get twirled and punches are thrown. I watch as the metal clashes on metal, and I tear my eyes away from the fight being displayed. I stare at the table, trying to not hyperventilate. I hear the video pause and the room is eerily silent.

"Fury she looks like she's going to pass out." Bruce points out and I continue staring at the table.

"Do you know him?" The nice blonde man from earlier, Steve Rogers, asks. I meet his blue eyes and see the desperation in them. I nod my head, gripping the sides of my seat.

"The Winter Soldier. He was my mission." I manage to say without throwing up all over the table. This has to be some sort of nightmare I'm trapped in, there's no way this is reality. The rest of the table silently looks at one another in shock.

"Your mission?" Steve asks, leaning on the table, getting closer to me. I sense both curiosity and hostility.

"I worked for Hydra since the day I was born, my father was a man of Hydra notoriety. I was indoctrinated and trained. I had a special talent for understanding how people work, how the mind works. It was my job to improve what Arnim Zola created during World War Two. I didn't want to do it, but I didn't have a choice. I programmed their most efficient and deadly weapon and ruined a man at the same time." I admit. Steve stares at me with a blank expression, and I quickly meet his gaze with one of sympathy and regret.

The rest of the members take this information in and process it. There's no easy way to explain what I did, it's more of a "rip the band-aid off" situation and mend relationships from there. I feel shame and guilt wash over my body as I recall my earlier days working for Hydra. I remember every second of what I did, the pain I inflicted and the lives I've ruined.

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